The Unseen Road

Chapter Twenty-Seven

During what felt like the eighth or ninth hour of her captivity, Celeste Jacobs found herself running low on ways to keep herself occupied. Ever since she had spoken with Beatrice, it was hard not to become emotionally drained with every passing moment of her stale confinement. In addition, there was still no word on Kylie or of her being found, if they had decided to look for her next. Celeste had trouble deciding whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

She sat in the corner of her cell with her back against the cold wall, drawing shapes into the dust with her finger on the dusty floor between her bent knees. The turbid water that Beatrice had soaked her with had only partially dried, leaving her with an uncomfortable, waterlogged feeling with every movement her arm made against the fabric of her clothes, and every time her sleeve collected dust from the ground, not only feeling wet but also gritty. The moldy air wasn't improving her situation, either. She was beginning to think that it couldn't get any worse.

Well, she thought listlessly, at least there's not a dead guy in the corner.

The entire cell block, in fact, was quite empty. The only thing that kept her company was the small collection of dust spores that cached the ground and floated suspended in the air where the shaft in the roof spilled in wan sunlight. However, occasionally Celeste would hear the echo of a cough bouncing down the cell block, either belonging to an old woman or to her own paranoia. Sometimes, she would hear other sounds as well- a sniff, a sneeze, a moan. The third particularly troubled her whenever she heard it.

It was an uneasiness that proved still applicable when she heard another moan- for the third time in the simple course of an hour.

"Oh my god!" she yelled suddenly; from hysteria or frustration, she didn't know. The guard on post, a young, impatient-looking Vampire sitting on a stool in knee-length boots at the other end of the hallway, gave her a dirty look and brandished his whip threateningly. Knowing that he wouldn't actually use it unless she started to become particularly obstreperous, Celeste rolled her eyes. "Whoever has the flu down here, I sure as heck hope you don't pass it up here!"

She looked at the guard again. "Please tell me you have a way of controlling epidemics here," she pleaded, half sarcastic and half dazed. "Quarantine, maybe? No?"

The guard only averted his gaze coldly and continued writing in a small, leather-bound book. He wasn't going to be paying any more attention to her.

She slumped back against the wall, dangling her dusty fingers at her side. What the hell, she thought; and she prepared to wipe them on her pants when she heard yet another moan.

She sighed, no longer histrionic; she decided to give up that act for the time being. "Are you kid—" she began, rolling her head exasperatedly to face the direction from where the sound had been coming for the past hour.

But then, she thought to listen harder.

What she thought had been a moan, wasn't a moan at all. It was a croaky whisper, low and disguised, almost like a frog.

"Girl," the voice said. It was an odd way of addressing her, but Celeste now realized that it was somebody trying to get her attention without getting the guard's, using the guttural sound of the word as cover.

"What?" she whispered back, not daring to move.

There was a pause. If the person to whom the voice belonged had been waiting the entire hour for a response, no doubt hers had surprised him or her. Or relieved. Although no longer disguising it as much as a moan, they kept their voice low.

"You- you're from Agrelind, aren't you?" they asked in a hushed voice.

Celeste drew her eyebrows together. "Yeah, I am, how did you know?"