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.”