Текст книги "A Bargain So Bloody"
Автор книги: Vasilisa Drake
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A Bargain So Bloody
Vasilisa Drake
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Copyright © 2025 by Vasilisa Drake
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
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Contents
Content Note
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
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Content Note
The Kingdom of Dark Magic series deals with many dark themes. For a full list, please visit https://vasilisadrake.com/content-notes/
Your mental health matters.
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To anyone who has ever wanted a monster who would burn the world for them.
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Chapter One
I snatched a scrambling rat before it could retreat to its hiding hole, breaking its neck in one smooth motion.
Samara, a princess is not meant to hunt vermin.
That’s what my mother would have said if she saw my dirty fingers grab the rat’s matted fur, likely as her delicate fingers pinched her nose. I’d have meekly apologized for my unladylike behavior.
The dying squeak chased away the echoes of her imagined reprimand like smoke. It had been more than a decade since I’d last heard her voice, pained and pleading. Now, I went days, a week at a time, without uttering more than the occasional grunt. It was better that way. Safer. It was all too easy to remember I wasn’t a lady, and despite my mother’s wild wishes, I’d never been a princess.
The prison allowed no delusions.
I slid the carcass into the makeshift pouch in my skirts with the others, and hustled down the hall to check my traps, adding several more unlucky rats to my collection. My cloth-wrapped feet scraped over the rough stone as I worked systematically through the halls. Time. Somehow it passed too quickly in a day, and too slowly in a year.
A dozen rats weren’t easy to catch, even with the traps I’d made.
Especially not today.
A new prisoner had come in. That wasn’t so unusual. But whoever this prisoner was, he’d set off the rest of the inmates. The halls had echoed with screams for hours, the rough crack of the whip their metronome. The guards liked to have fun with the new ones. When the other prisoners cried out, they’d have the whip turned on them as well.
Catching rats was tricky at the best of times, but the yelling and carrying on had made my job all the harder. They hid in small corners and scratched and bit to try to escape the inevitable, even after they were caught.
Not that it ever worked. Something I knew all too well.
My mother would have thought it was horrific. Me? I was numb to the task after all these years. The disgust of being around dead vermin wears off pretty quickly once you realize it’s keeping you away from the living ones.
As I walked into the kitchen, Nelson was at his preferred post, the single half-functional chair in the main servants’s chamber. It might as well have been a throne by the way he ordered everyone about. “Hurry up, you lazy shit!” he snapped with his scratchy voice. “Kitchen won’t wait all day.”
I picked up the pace, taking care not to drop my haul.
Nelson leered at me as I passed. I made a show of speeding up, hoping that would soothe his ego. He wasn’t as highly ranked as a guard, but rather was a disgraced noble’s son, which made him our superior. He lorded his status over us. He was constantly imagining infractions against him.
That was how you got sent to clean the toilets. It wouldn’t have been quite so terrible if everyone took their turn. Instead, Nelson let his favored few skip their shifts, worsening the smell until some unlucky sap was sent to clean up. Unlike the rest of the Witch Kingdom, magic was inaccessible in Greymere, meaning the feces had to be scraped by hand instead of washed away with an enchanted card.
I eased through the doorway, trying to avoid the other servants. The kitchen was half the size it needed to be for the number of prisoners we had. It was the only warm room in the prison, except you couldn’t enjoy it. The air was always sticky with sweat from the workers.
I deposited the rats near Cook, who was brewing the main course. He accepted them with a grunt, and I didn’t bother to acknowledge him before starting on my next task.
There was always more to do, and if you looked like you didn’t have enough for even a moment… toilets.
I’d delivered the rats just in time to be added to this supper’s stew. Next on my rotation was washing the dishes from breakfast. Technically, Robbie was supposed to do that in the morning, but as Nelson’s lone friend and co-bully, he got away with slacking off more than anyone else. Usually, he put the blame on me when the dishes weren’t done by the evening.
Washing dishes had some advantages. It was the one place in the prison where we could actually use soap, even if it was the lousiest sliver of soap going. Baths were a thing of the past in Greymere. I got used to the smell after a while, sure. But inevitably, my fingers were plastered with blood after breaking the necks of the rats all day.
The blood was the worst part. It never really left, not completely, no matter how much I scrubbed.
The downside of washing dishes was that it left you exposed in the kitchen. Out of sight, out of Nelson’s mind, meant you were safe. The kitchen, which Nelson peered in on with all the impudence of a cat surveying paralyzed mice, left you directly in his line of sight.
It took ages to clean the dishes. Long enough that Cook finished making his rat soup and supper had been dispersed to the prisoners. He poured one cup—a generous one, with big chunks of meat—and left it at my side without a word. I nodded my thanks, my stomach rumbling at the sight.
The nobles at the capital would’ve been repulsed. But when it’s prison slop or starvation, you stop being picky in a hurry. I only got one meal a day, if that, and it was mostly due to Cook’s charity.
I placed the last dish in the drying rack and reached for the cup. It was barely warm and would be cold by the time I scurried off somewhere safe to eat it, any heat sucked out by the prison’s chill. But I’d be safe, and safety trumped comfort.
I reached for it, and readied to make my exit, when Nelson’s nasally voice cut through.
“You’ve been slacking off,” Nelson snapped, appearing so suddenly I just knew he’d been waiting for me to finish.
The kitchen was empty now. I just kept my eyes down. Cleaning the privy at this hour meant I wouldn’t sleep until nearly dawn.
He lifted a bowl with an appraising eye, then another. “These are all still dirty.”
They weren’t, but I ground my teeth and didn’t say a single word as he dumped a pile of bowls back into the sink.
“Do it again.”
I said nothing, praying to any number of unspecified gods that Nelson would move along once I washed them again. Unfortunately, he wasn’t satisfied.
He looked at the cup Cook had left me. It was small, a quarter of a normal portion the others got, even less compared to what Nelson claimed. I braced for him to dump it out and toss the dirty dish into my pile. My stomach clenched at the thought, even though I was no stranger to hunger. Not anymore.
Instead, he looked from the cup, to me, and back. And spat in it.
He didn’t say another word, walking away with a spring in his step.
Whatever. I’d eaten worse.
Three years. Just three more years, and I’d be free of this place. Once my sentence was finished, I would go to the Monastery. They would take me in despite my criminal sentence. I’d finally have a place where I belonged. Where I was safe.
I just had to make it until then.
I continued on the dishes, my fingers pruned from the water. By the time I set the last one to dry, it was well past midnight. I stumbled out of the kitchen, the cup of soup clutched between my hands.
I just wanted to rest. Just a few hours.
But Nelson was still at his perch, a smirk on his lips. He slid a glass jar over to me. A healing balm, weak and non-magical.
This day just got better and better.
“You’re to see to the new prisoner. Cell 48, Block D.”
The one that had set off the other prisoners screaming.
The balm wasn’t a gift, not really. Sure, limbs rotting off from infection might sound unpleasant, but in Greymere, the only escape was death. The balm would take the latest captive that much farther from its clutches—though from the hours of whip-cracks I’d heard, it might not be enough.
I was so tired, I dared to ask, “Can this wait until tomorrow?”
Nelson shook his head, not dropping that infuriating smile. The fact he didn’t slap me for insubordination was even more worrisome. “This fellow could use a woman’s touch after the day he had. The guards were quite diligent with ‘em. I heard they didn’t leave the cell until after nightfall. Besides, I hear the new guy is a night owl.”
His little joke barely registered. All that whipping had been on one prisoner?
I snatched the balm from the desk and left before Nelson could come up with some other task. Block D was on the opposite side of Greymere from the kitchens, where the most dangerous prisoners were kept. Not that it mattered. Even the strongest witches on the outside were powerless in Greymere. Cut off from magic, they invariably went mad.
I stuck to the shadows, clutching Nelson’s skeleton key in my hand. Theoretically, it should’ve been safe to wander about the prison since all the inmates were locked up with no chance of escaping.
Only a fool would think the worst part of the prison was the prisoners, though.
Three more years.
My footsteps were nearly silent as I approached the cell. The screams had quieted at least, the inmates asleep. I didn’t relish waking this one up, but he’d be too weak to attack me if what Nelson said was true about what the guards had done.
I slid the key into the lock and opened the door, the metal letting out a loud, angry creak. A glint of red flared against the darkness. A rat? was my stupid thought. But those eyes were far too big for rats.
I dropped the key with a clang.
Nelson had sent me to tend to a vampire.
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Chapter Two
I wanted to run screaming from the cell. If I disobeyed Nelson’s order, he’d punish me. He might do something worse than simply sending me to the toilets.
But to have to touch a vampire…
Which was worse? His copper manacles glinted in the torchlight—copper instead of the normal thick iron shackles used on witches. He was bound, arms tied together in front of him, his legs tethered to a stake in the ground where he stood.
My stomach revolted. I swallowed down the bile and set my cup down, grateful I hadn’t downed it on my way over.
“Is that supper I smell?”
His voice was… unexpected. Stronger than it should have been after the beating he’d taken. Not an animalistic growl, but a silk-smooth voice that curled around me.
“It’s not for you. You don’t eat food, anyway.” My voice was shaky.
“Oh, I can eat.” It was almost a purr. “I just have other appetites.”
His words made me flinch before I was able to hide it, and I didn’t miss his eyes narrow on the movement. He was a predator. Any fear would be taken as a sign of weakness.
I squared my shoulders. Acting meek around Nelson might have helped me survive, but the bloodsucker would just see me as an easy meal.
“I’ve come to tend you,” I said, making up my mind. He was bound. I could deal with this. “But I’ll go if you give me a hard time.”
It was an empty threat. I had no power here, but it’d be easier if he thought I did.
“Then by all means.”
I stepped further into the cell, the door creaking behind me.
The space was dark, only the dim torchlight from the halls offering any guidance. The cells weren’t large to begin with, but the presence of the vampire seemed to swallow more space than his build should’ve justified.
I clutched the jar of ointment like a talisman for protection, sticking close to the edge of the walls until I was behind him.
A sharp inhale through my nose was the only surprise I let myself show. Cruelty and violence had been constant companions in my time at Greymere. But this…
His back was flayed. I’d seen animal carcasses less mangled. I dipped two fingers into the salve, debating where to start. His right shoulder still had the most skin attached, so that was where I pressed. Part of me wanted to abandon the salve, to dig my nails in and finish the job the guards had started. Rip him apart. Take revenge.
The exposed flesh oozed blood, a dark red canvas. If he was a monster, what did that make the guards who’d done this?
I swallowed the thought. Of course he deserved it. Worse. Who cared if he looked no different from this angle, with his red eyes turned away from me, than any other male? He was an evil creature. I’d seen exactly the kind of cruelty vampires were capable of.
But I kept my press gentle. It must’ve been unfathomably painful. How was he even standing? The only hint of his discomfort was a single hiss, cut off with half a breath. Then, nothing. Did vampires even breathe? His chest moved under my touch, but they were the undead. It’s not like they needed air.
No, just blood and blood and blood—
“Do you intend to continue, or just tempt me with the sound of your pulse all night?”
His words were unhurried and teasing, like a cat batting a mouse around. Totally belying the mangled state of his back. They snapped me from my dark thoughts. I resumed my movements, collecting more salve and covering his back in large swaths. I wanted to be done with this.
“You—you don’t want my blood.”
A soft snort. “I don’t see why you’d be the authority on that. You’re close, and your pulse is pounding like a filly’s out on her first run.”
“You don’t,” I insisted. He was in chains, but that did nothing to soothe my nerves. “The rats eat better than I do. The water I drink is half mud. My blood would taste awful.”
“With the amount of blood I’ve lost, I suppose I wouldn’t be too discerning,” he said glibly. “Lean a little closer, and we can find out.”
I pictured it, at his words. Tipping forward, his fangs sinking into me.
Blood and blood and—
I wanted to vomit. I slammed the salve’s lid shut. I had mostly finished, but even if I’d barely started, I was at my limit. Let Nelson send me to the toilets for a month. It’d be better than spending another second in this cell.
I backed away, sticking as close to the wall as possible as I left.
“Before you go. Look at me.”
His words shouldn’t have stopped me, but the vampire’s voice was pure command. I obeyed before I even had a chance to think it through.
I hadn’t let myself look into his eyes since I’d first walked into the cell. Despite the fact his back was ripped open, he stood tall, proud. His chest was bare, and though the front was bruised as well, it did nothing to hide the definition of his muscles. He had a warrior’s body. Odd, for such a parasitic creature. His face, though. Even bloody and bruised it could only be called beautiful. It wasn’t a gentle, regal beauty. It was a ruthless kind that, if anything, was enhanced by the cuts on it. His jawline was sharp, casting a shadow over his neck in the torchlight. His brows were stark white, matching his hair.
His red eyes snared me.
“Let me out of my chains.”
Unlike his commanding tone, this he spoke in the same soothing tone he’d used before.
Did he think I was insane?
That’s what I got for daring to speak with a vampire.
“No.”
His brows rose, as if surprised.
“Unlock my chains.” The commanding tone returned, promising violence if I didn’t obey.
This time I didn’t answer. I quickly gathered my supplies and turned towards the exit.
“Free me from my chains, and I’ll let you escape with me,” he hissed at my back.
I slammed the cell door shut behind me.
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Chapter Three
I barely slept. By the time I got back to one of my sleeping spots—it wasn’t good to stay in the same place too many nights in a row—it was hardly three hours until I needed to be awake. As usual, I fell asleep quickly. No matter what kind of day I had, I couldn’t afford to skip a chance to sleep.
But my dreams were haunted by unnerving red eyes.
Greymere was quiet when I finally woke. My morning routine consisted of tucking away the one threadbare blanket I’d managed to keep from the others for the past year. It also meant I was nowhere near the warmth of the kitchen.
The cold stone of the prison floor always left me sore, even after all these years. My back ached. My shoulders were tight. Grooming amounted to little more than cracking my neck and running my fingers through my hair to clear out some cobwebs.
The hollow hunger was a frequent companion. There was no point trekking over to the kitchen for breakfast. If I tried to get some when it was fresh, I inevitably got elbowed away, delayed from starting my chores—which got me in trouble—and usually didn’t even succeed.
I was scrawny. I couldn’t elbow back. It was better to keep my head down and stay away, so that’s what I did.
I didn’t have time to waste. At least the witch prisoners had the luxury of sleeping in. I wasn’t so lucky. Voids convicted of crimes unlucky enough to be sent to Greymere didn’t sit in cells—they served. Born without magic, we were the only ones who could physically tolerate working in Greymere. No void volunteered to live without the comforts magic offered. The witches weren’t the only prisoners here.
I set off to check my rat traps.
I’d devised the traps from pieces of half-rotted wood, some spare twine, and metal scraps. They would’ve worked leagues better if I had any food to bait the rats with. Without, I caught at most three on a good day.
I’d gone to Nelson when I’d devised the first prototype. I was young then, maybe nine years old. I’d cast Nelson into the role of a guide, a leader. I’d thought he might be proud of me.
Instead, he snatched the prototype from my tiny hands and threw it on the floor, crushing it under his foot. Of course, that just set off the trap, catching his foot. He yowled, and I’d been so surprised I had actually laughed.
He beat me after that. And I learned not to ask Nelson—not to ask anyone—for anything.
Today, the first trap I checked actually had a rat. I made quick work of it, snapping its neck with practiced ease. It should’ve been a fortuitous start to the day.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
To start, aside from the first, the rats were harder to find than usual. The screams of the prisoners resumed, amplified when the whipping began. The halls of Greymere must’ve been engineered to carry sound especially easily, because no matter where I went, I couldn’t escape it. It wasn’t that the screaming was so unusual. After all these years, I could normally ignore it.
But not today. Instead, one question ricocheted back and forth over and over.
Was he screaming?
I couldn’t picture it. Even when he tried to order me to release him, his voice had barely risen above its low purr.
Did he really think I would throw everything away to help him?
Perhaps he was simply desperate to escape his fate. They were whipping him. That, I didn’t doubt. The wounds on his back would be barely sealed with the salve. A single stroke would tear apart any healing that had come from last night. Could you kill a vampire that way?
Why even capture a vampire? In all my years at the prison, I’d never seen one. All I had seen was every manner of witch be driven mad.
If he doesn’t die, will he go mad too?
“Look who finally decided to show up.”
I stiffened at Nelson’s voice, cursing the vampire for dominating my thoughts so completely I’d failed in my main task.
My official job was to find the rats. The real one? To avoid Nelson by any means necessary.
I couldn’t say what Nelson did during the day, except that it seemed to be the same thing he did during the evenings: make everyone around him miserable. The air soured from the scent of alcohol on his breath. Nelson had gotten his hands on some spirits. That always made for a worse encounter.
He saw the rat in my hands and snatched it from me. I forced my fingers to loosen, letting him take it.
He lifted it, testing the weight.
“Scrawny.” He gave me a look. Did he want me to seem impressed at his powers of observation? We were coming out of winter. All of us were starving. “You’ll need to find more. Fatter ones.”
“There aren’t any more. They’re all scared of the damned bloodsucker!”
The words flew from my mouth before I could stop them. For a moment, we just stared at each other. When was the last time I’d talked back to Nelson?
“Oh yes, the bloodsucker you spent the evening with. The guards have been busy with him again today. Maybe you should pay another visit to him tonight.” He gave me a meaningful look.
This time I said nothing. I forced myself to lower my eyes. I didn’t need another sleepless night. Nothing could be worse than another evening in the cell with that awful creature.
He tightened his grip around the carcass. “I’ll take this for my luncheon. Maybe it’ll make you realize you can’t slack off under my watch.”
A whole rat for himself. My entire morning’s work.
I bit down on my tongue so hard it bled. Nelson turned, and I should’ve been relieved it wasn’t worse. Instead, anger rolled through me. Indignation. Feelings I’d do well to forget.
“It’s not forever.”
I meant the refrain to comfort myself, but Nelson heard it even over the choir of screams that rolled down the hall.
“What was that?”
Nothing. That’s what I should have said.
But this time I raised my gaze, forcing myself to really take a look at my bully. I’d spent the night in a cell with a vampire, argued with him, defied him. Somehow, Nelson didn’t seem quite as scary by comparison. Where the vampire was tall, Nelson’s shoulders slouched like he was always falling towards you. His hair was matted, the same dark dirty brown like all of ours was, because even his elevated position among us didn’t allow for bathing.
“It’s not forever,” I repeated. “My sentence. I only have three years left. Then I’ll be released from this place. You’ll still be here, still taking rats, but I’m going to be free.”
I braced for the slap. For the fury. In that moment, I even convinced myself it would be worth it.
But Nelson didn’t slap me. His face didn’t contort with rage.
He laughed. He laughed so hard the rat he’d stolen dropped to the floor; he clutched his stomach, rolling his head back with laughter.
“Free?” he said between laughs. “You, free? That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in years.”
“Fifteen years. That’s my sentence. I’ve served twelve already.” My words were clipped, quick arrows trying to cut through his laughter.
They bounced off Nelson’s chuckles uselessly. If anything, they made him laugh harder and harder, until he coughed, and his spit flew at me.
Choke, I thought. I pictured it, wrapping my hands around his neck the way I did the rats. Pictured myself twisting.
“You’re too funny. You really think they’ll let you walk out of here? Caria’s tits, that’s a good one. I’ll have to tell Robbie. You’re so simple, Sam.” He loved the sound of his voice dearly. “There’s no end.”
“There is,” I protested. “Three more years.” Just three more, and I could leave these dark, scream-filled halls behind and join the Monastery.
He smirked. “Who d’you suppose is keeping count? Anyone who knew you has forgotten you exist. No one is going to come get you. Think, Sammy.”
My normal revulsion to his assigned nickname was drowned out by the roar in my ears as the implication hit me.
Forgotten by everyone.
“Someone has to sign off on your release. And that someone is me. Your sentence is done when I write to the king and say it’s done.”
My gut twisted. Technically, Nelson wasn’t a prisoner like the rest of us. He was a noble, and while in high society he would’ve been as valuable as a gutter rat, here he had absolute power.
He grinned at my obvious distress. “Who knows? In another ten, twenty years, Sammy, we could be friends, and you’ll talk me into letting the royals know your sentence is finished. But mark my words, you will never leave without my blessing, and you’re nowhere close to earning it.”
Acid boiled in my stomach, a mix of fury and nausea.
“You can’t do that,” I protested, even though reality was forcing the walls to close in on all sides. Because yes, he could.
My future hinged on Nelson’s charity.
I was doomed.
“And who would stop me?” He shrugged, as if it was just a fact of life. “Besides, you’re better off in here than out there. Even if ol’ King Stormblood himself came down to pardon a gutter rat like you, do you know what kind of life you’d have? No one would hire a filthy thing like you. Even the brothels wouldn’t take you, except to have something cheap on the menu. When they used you up, you’d be on the streets. See how much you make begging with your ugly face.”
Nelson laughed again, then turned, collecting the rat once more.
This time, I didn’t say anything.
His words played on a loop over and over. Twelve years I’d been here. I’d be here ten more. Twenty. Forever, if it was truly up to Nelson. Until either he grew so tired of me he killed me.
Or I killed myself to make it end.
I bent into a corner of the hall and heaved, vomiting up what bit of precious food my stomach had held. The smell, foul as it was, actually drew the rats forward. I killed them with only half a mind, still turning over Nelson’s speech. Even as I killed their brethren, they came forward. They were starving, and any chance of food, at survival, however disgusting, was worth it to them.
Did they know they were doomed?
One came slower, dragging a trap half caught on its neck, squealing, squealing. I snapped its neck. Put it out of its misery.
I collected the last of them and brought them to Cook.
Nelson left me alone. Apparently, he’d had his fill of tormenting me today.
But there would be tomorrow.
And the day after. And the one after that.
He’s lying. He has to be. I nearly vomited again in the sink, but there was nothing in me but the barest bit of water. The acidic taste clawed my throat while I forced myself to swallow it down. Now was not the time to show weakness.
Nelson’s taunts played over and over in my head.
My life.
Forever.
If Nelson had his way, I’d never make it to the Monastery.
I’d never see the sun again.
I can’t do this. I can’t.
Death on my terms would be better than a life like this. A life of dark hallways, of killing rats, of Nelson’s taunts.
I took my time with the dishes, my mind clouded and hot. Even when the kitchen emptied, I kept scrubbing dish after dish, my mind turning over what I’d learned. I’d thought about escaping before—it was impossible. Especially for someone like me.
But maybe not for everyone.
Once everyone else had gone to sleep, I tip-toed behind Nelson’s desk and slipped the skeleton key into my pocket. I hid in the shadows and kept my footsteps silent, counting the cells until I hit number 48.
The key slid into the oiled lock without a sound.
Red eyes flared open, meeting mine.
“I’m going to let you out.”
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