Watcher in the Darkness, Book 3: Imprisoned

Chapter 20

Sleep held me like a lake of syrupy quicksand. It was as though my tired body was determined to undo weeks of insomnia in one deep, dark, dreamless session. I was aware of the distant but gentle sting of sunlight on my face and the chirping of birds, but if I stopped struggling toward consciousness even for a second, oblivion would suck me back down.

The hollow ache in my stomach finally brought me around, and I found myself in a strange bed. I sat up on my elbows, stiff and sort of hung over, but otherwise fine. Great, in fact. Much better than I'd felt in months, if only I could figure out what the hell was going on.

The room was small, like a walk-in closet that had been converted into a bedroom. The ceiling was slanted, the floral wallpaper faded. The furniture was mismatched, but sturdy and very clean. The single window was covered in lace and thick iron bars.

I threw the handmade quilt aside to discover I was naked. Naturally. A moment later, I noticed the jeans, underwear, tee shirt, and hoodie folded in a neat stack on the corner chair. I could reach the clothes without having to get out of bed, so I dragged them over to put them on, then realized they were mine.

Karen.

I finished dressing then checked myself in the mirror, which was old and covered in discolored spots. My hair had been brushed smooth, my skin was clean, and my fangs had half-grown back. I could almost pass for human, if not for the yellow eyes.

I pulled back the curtain to look outside, and immediately knew where I was. This was an older section of town, a short trip from the boardwalk, but not all cheap and touristy. These few blocks housed antique shops, specialty clothing stores, and other small businesses too rich for my blood.

The window didn't open, and the bars were welded into the frame. The only way out of the room was a thick wooden door covered in flaky white paint. I braced myself as I tested the knob, but it turned without hesitation. I poked my head out into the hall, found it deserted, then stepped out of the room.

I was at the end of a long, very narrow, unlit corridor. I could hear a woman's voice hum a lullaby at the opposite end, so I eased my way toward the sound. I walked on the balls of my feet with my back against the wall to avoid creaking any floorboards. I opened my senses, then recognized the voice as belonging to the demon, Gwen.

"Who's my sweet boy?" she said, making me wonder if she had a dog. I didn't smell a dog. All I could smell was...oh, fuck me.

The door to the room was open a crack, so I gave it a shove to announce my presence. Inside the brightly-colored nursery, the demoness rocked an armful of infant human. It had fat, pink cheeks and a mass of curly blonde hair. The child's bottle was almost empty and its eyes were closed, but it continued to suckle in its sleep. There was a second baby in the crib, not as large as the first and dressed in pink ruffles. I had no experience with babies—tiny humans freak me out—but they looked to be about the age people are when they started to walk.

"Who's my little darling? Yes, you are. Poor, hungry lamb." Gwen looked at me at last. Her tone remained unchanged, but her eyes hardened in warning. I was only slightly offended. With the horrible exception of Elaina, I was no kiddie-biter, but I was still a vampire.

"Look who's awake, my sweet boy. Is it Tobias? Yes, it is. Do you think you're ready to go back to sleep so I can talk to our guest? There's my little angel." The baby started to fuss the instant Gwen tried to place him in the crib. She sighed as she put him back on her shoulder, then said, "There, there. I know it hurts. You don't want Gwen to go? As you wish, my little prince."