A Den of Tricks (A Shade of Vampire #54)

He breathed heavily, almost hyperventilating, as he processed my words. He exhaled deeply, his shoulders dropping as he concluded that, indeed, I wasn’t going to hurt him. He was definitely more alert than the others, but still physically weakened.

“What… What do you want?” he mumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest, his cuffs jingling with each movement. “Who are you? How do I know you’re not a daemon, just playing with my head?”

That last one was a stretch. Even he probably knew it, given how his voice pitched higher toward the end of the question.

“I’m definitely not a daemon because if I were, I’d literally be draining the life out of you, and you probably know that, after last night.” I groaned, rolling my eyes. He couldn’t see me, though, which was a shame. It would’ve made my statement a lot more dramatic. “I’m Fiona, and I’m using the same cloaking spell that the daemons are using.”

“How… How did you get it?” He blinked several times, visibly dazed.

“That’s a long story. What’s your name?”

“Merin,” he replied, not sure where to look, since he could see right through me.

“Merin, why are you in prison?” I asked, trying to get the ball rolling, as I noticed him slowly loosening up.

“I… I stole gold from a Mara lady,” he sighed, guilt drawing shadows on his pale face. He wrapped his arms around his calves, pulling his legs closer to his chest. “I don’t know how long I’ll be here… A few months, maybe a year… If I live that long.”

“Why wouldn’t you live through it? Are they hurting you in here?”

His bitter chuckle made me rethink my question. He looked terrible, obviously not the recipient of any five-star treatment.

This is prison, Fiona. And it’s not your world. Focus!

I would’ve made a fantastic human rights campaigner, had I not been born and raised in The Shade.

“Did you not see those creatures trying to kill us last night?” he muttered, resting his forehead on his knees. “Not that I could see them, per se… but I could hear them. The others screaming and crying out in agony… They didn’t reach my cage, but the others behind you… they didn’t stand a chance…”

I glanced over my shoulder and saw the empty cages—six of them, to be precise, the iron bars bent, the locks broken, and the shackles discarded in a corner.

“What happened to the bodies?” I asked.

“The Correction Officers took them away, I guess… I don’t know, I’m mostly sleeping these days…”

“Merin, I don’t think the daemons will come back,” I told him. “We’ve sealed the tunnels, and we put a protection spell over the city. Hopefully last night was the last time you will see them.”

He shrugged, then let a sigh roll out of his chest. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, though he deserved to be in here. You’re supposed to pay for your crimes, after all.

“Hopefully,” he echoed.

“How did you know about the daemons? How did you know they’re called daemons?” I asked.

“They’ve been… part of our folklore for ages,” he murmured, staring blankly ahead. His tone felt a bit automated. “They’re evil and big, with red eyes and long claws… and they eat your soul.”

“Was last night the first time you saw them, so to speak?”

Merin blanked out for a moment, as if looking for the memory. He shook his head.

“I… I think so. I’d remember it. Right?”

“Why are you asking me? Were you mind-bent?” I replied.

“Would I know if I was mind-bent?” The corner of his mouth twitched. Yeah, he was definitely mind-bent, and I wasn’t going to get much out of him regarding the prison.

“That makes sense… sort of,” I muttered. “Listen, Merin, I need your help. If you can, that is. I’m looking for my friend Demios. Arrah’s brother? He worked in the Roho mansion. Do you, by any chance, know him?”

“Mm-hm…” He nodded slowly. “Most of the Imen my age know Demios. He used to be such a rascal when we were kids. One time, he almost burned down the White Star Hotel by accident, and we—”

“Merin, I’m in a bit of a rush here,” I interrupted him. On any other occasion, I probably would’ve endured one or two childhood memories, but my clock was ticking. I was maybe fifteen minutes away from needing a refill on my invisibility spell, and I had to be in Demios’s presence when that happened, so he could see me. “Do you know where they’re keeping him?”

“I do,” he said, pointing up above his head. “They let the inmates from above out once in a while, for ten minutes. He came by to see me. He’d heard me scream when they first brought me down here, begging to be reformed, not jailed. I wasn’t that lucky…”

Merin’s attention span was downright dismal.

“Where are they keeping him?” I persisted.

“Up on the third level,” he conceded. “Cell number twenty, he told me. As if I could do anything with that information while I’m stuck down here…”

“Well, turns out you just did something with it right now.” I wished he could see me smile. “Thank you, Merin, you’ve been really helpful. I promise I’ll speak to the Correction Officers in charge and see if we can get your sentence reduced or something.”

I was being honest. Of course, I wouldn’t tell them about how he helped me get to Demios, since I was going to break Arrah’s brother out of jail. But I was definitely going to speak to Lord Kifo about it… Maybe make up a little story about how he provided important information regarding last night’s daemon attack. Whatever worked.

“Thank you,” Merin replied, tears glazing his eyes as he pressed his lips tightly together.

“Hang in there,” I whispered, then left him and snuck up the metal stairs leading to the cellblocks above.

I walked past a Correction Officer, then checked the top side of the cells as I moved forward. Number five… ten… fifteen… twenty.

There was a young Iman lying in his scruffy single bed, staring at the ceiling. His facial features were the only thing he had in common with Arrah. His eyes were dark brown, and his hair was long and black as a crow’s feather. I found the striking difference between Demios and his sister quite odd; Arrah had a beautiful pair of pale green eyes and light brown hair.

I fumbled through my pockets for my lock-picking tool. It was a simple metal object resembling a very slim nail file. I couldn’t see what I was doing, but this wasn’t my first lock—nor was it going to be my last. My fingers worked on instinct until I heard the much-needed click, and I slowly pushed the cell door open.

Demios shot up into a seated position, his eyes wide with fear. Since he couldn’t see me yet, I could only imagine the horror going through his head, as he probably expected to get his soul eaten or something.

“Please don’t scream or anything,” I whispered, and pulled the cell door shut behind me, careful not to make any unnecessary noise. “I’m not a daemon. I’m not here to hurt you, I promise.”

He raised his eyebrows and gave me a brief nod. I realized then that he was looking right at me. I glanced down and noticed the invisibility spell fading away, revealing me.

“I can see that now… That you’re not a daemon, I mean,” Demios replied. “They’re ugly, scary beasts…”