She had spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, unable to sleep. She kept seeing Walden's unmoving body. He couldn't be dead. He must have been Stunned. If he was dead, what was left for her out there?
She'd thought about suicide, plain and simple. It wasn't something she would have considered in other circumstances, but the situation was dire. Greyback was apparently impervious to magic and the wandless spells she'd attempted to unlock the door of her cell had proven useless. She suspected that magic couldn't be used inside the perimeter. If that was the case, what other weapon did she have at her disposal? She was locked up in a prison cell and surrounded by Merlin knew how many werewolves. The situation was dire indeed. At least if she died she would take the bloody beast with her.
The worst part was that she couldn't even wish for rescue. She knew Walden would try to find her at all costs – if he was alive – but what if he did? Even if the whole Order turned up, they would be badly outnumbered and unable to cast any magic besides. They didn't stand a chance.
And then there was the fact that she was linked to Greyback. What sort of magic could possibly be at work here? She'd never heard of anything remotely akin to that curse. Of course, her case was peculiar to begin with and Greyback had seemed as puzzled as she was, so it was nothing he had done – at least not wittingly. She wondered idly if she was connected in such a way to Antonin as well, if maybe it was something in her that had caused the bond she shared with Greyback, somehow. She might never find out now. What also troubled her was that the werewolf had healed as fast as she had. She'd never read anywhere that werewolves regenerated quickly.
Dawn had come and gone and no one had come to check on her. She was starved.
It was another hour – to the best of her estimation – before a man she hadn't encountered before appeared with a tray. He was about forty, tall and massive, with an unkempt beard and very little hair on his head. He eyed her quite thoroughly for a long moment, as if he'd never seen a woman before. He kept sniffling all the while. Maybe he had a cold.
When she'd had enough of his staring, she arched an eyebrow and addressed him as politely as she could manage. Maybe he wasn't here of his own free will, after all. "Can I help you?" Well, it came out a bit sarcastically.
He seemed to regain his senses at the sound of her voice. Shaking his head, he placed the tray near the metal gate of her cell. It was a full breakfast, with eggs and bacon, sausages and beans and even some toast. There was some coffee, too. Her stomach rumbled at the sight of that feast. How was she supposed to eat it through the gate, though?
The man cleared his throat roughly. "Um… I'm gonna open the door now," he said hesitantly in a thick Mancunian accent. "Um… please stay on the bed while I do that. And um… don't do nothing stupid. Please," he added sheepishly. Merlin, was he scared of her? She was half his size, for crying out loud!
Then she realised he was more likely afraid of Greyback. The Alpha must have admonished his puppets to be careful around her. Well, he shouldn't worry. What could she possibly do? Wrestle with him? She giggled at the thought and he threw her a troubled glance before walking away, presumably to activate the opening mechanism. The door slid open a moment later but she waited for him to come back before moving. She didn't want to perturb him more than he already was.
"Um… you can have the food now, if you want," he muttered. She noticed that he maintained a safe distance between them.
She got up, picked up the tray and sat down on the bed to eat. She didn't look at the man again but heard the gate close a few seconds later. She ate everything but left the coffee. She didn't like the bitter drink, especially black. She hoped someone would think to give her some tea or water at the very least.
When she was done, she lay down on the bed once more and waited. She didn't have anything else to do. She'd saved the knife and fork that were provided with the meal and kept them within easy reach but she wasn't sure she could bring herself to use them. What would be the point, anyway? Even if she managed to kill one of them – and murdering presumably innocent people certainly didn't appeal to her – she wouldn't be any closer to getting out of here. It would only enrage Greyback – not that she cared about his feelings, obviously, but he might decide to take it out on the other wolves, since he couldn't harm her.
Everything considered, she was facing dire straits.
Scabior came by some time later, around lunch, she assumed, since her stomach was already acting up. She ate a lot more than she used to since she'd been attacked by Greyback the year before. As far as she could see, the only good thing that came out of it was that she didn't put on weight anymore. A very good thing indeed.
Scabior had removed the drape after their short discussion the night before so she saw him arrive. He bore no tray, she noticed with marked disappointment.
"Fenrir wants to see you," he announced without preamble.
Evey sighed. "He could have come himself. It would have saved you the trouble." She stood up to face him. "Well? I'm locked up, mate. You have to open the gate if you want me to come with you," she pointed out wryly.
He gave her a blank stare but made no reply as he moved to activate the door mechanism. She stepped out of her cell as he made his way back to it but he didn't seem bothered that she'd taken the initiative. He simply kept on walking silently along the corridor and Evey followed.
"You should stand up for yourself, you know. You don't have to do everything he says. You seem like a decent person. Why do you serve him? What did he promise you? What's holding you here?" Pestering him with questions hadn't worked the night before, but she hoped that he might get irritated and let something useful slip. He didn't. He kept his eyes firmly ahead and refused to acknowledge anything she said. Well, if he thought he could out-stubborn her, he was in for a surprise. "Whatever he promised you, I trust you're smart enough to realise it will never happen. He cares only about himself. Did he even tell you why I'm here? Did he explain that to you, o faithful second?" she asked with a smirk.
"Do you ever stop talking?" he mumbled in annoyance.
Ah. Progress. "I do not. Do you really condone murder? All of you here? I find it hard to believe that so many people could be like-minded, even if Greyback recruits only former inmates. Does he? Is that why you settled here?" She wouldn't put it past him.
"What the hell are you going on about?" he said suddenly. "Murder? He's not going to harm you, girl. He forbade anyone to even get close to you without his express consent."
She halted in the middle of the corridor and Scabior did likewise a moment later, though reluctantly. "He bit me," she told him fiercely.
"Yeah, I know that," he retorted impatiently. "He explained it all to me."
"Oh? Did he really?" she asked sarcastically. "And what excuses did he make for butchering my family?"
Scabior narrowed his eyes at her, obviously confused. Explained it all, my aunt Fanny, Evey thought wryly. "Maybe you should enquire about the details. But regardless of that, he still bit me, and I'm a woman. He couldn't have known I was going to survive, could he?" she went on. Scabior was shaking his head slightly. "He's deceiving you, Scabior. How can you not see that?" she added softly.
"What a pile of tosh," the werewolf muttered. He started to walk again. "Come along now. He dislikes waiting."
"I take it you met Sherlock?" Greyback asked as she settled in the chair opposite him.
She made certain to keep her eyes on his. "Sherlock?" she repeated blankly.
"The wolf who brought you your breakfast. I know, it's an uncommon name, but his mother was crazy about Conan Doyle."
"Why do you keep introducing everyone?"
"Because it's the polite thing to do and because you're going to be here for a while. You might as well get acquainted."
"Did you have me come to your office just to tell me this?" she demanded. And did he honestly believe that being polite was going to make her more amenable?
"I wanted to know if you were settling in comfortably."
Codswallop. "Wouldn't it have been easier for you to check on me in the cell instead of having Scabior bring me all the way here?"
His face hardened. "You'll have to come to terms with the fact that I'm in charge here, girlie. I don't go to people. They come to me."
"And what are you going to do if I refuse to comply in the future?" she asked him sweetly.
"I'll wager I'm more resilient to pain than you are," he replied quietly.
Before she had time to respond, he grabbed a letter opener on his desk and stabbed himself in the chest – right in the liver, if her knowledge of the human body served. That was all she had time to register. She went into shock and found herself suddenly unable to breathe. She slowly slid off the chair and fell to the ground with a crash, whimpering, tears of agony leaking down her face. The world went dark.
When she regained consciousness, it was all gone – the wound and the pain, anyway. Her already dirty T-shirt was now caked with blood. She wasn't even sore as she heaved herself back in the chair but the memory of the pain was still fresh in her mind and she winced reflexively at the sight of the letter opener.
"I'm sure you could get used to it," Greyback told her flatly – he looked as though nothing had happened, despite the blood that stained his shirt, "but surely you'll agree that it would be more pleasant for you if you weren't living in constant pain – or fear of it." He gave her a pointed look.
She made no reply. What could she possibly say? The man was obviously insane.
He nodded as if she'd just agreed to his words and called out to someone outside. He asked the newcomer – Marko, a dark-skinned werewolf in his late twenties – to take her to the showers then back to her cell, but to leave the door open and to rehang the curtain.
Well, this was going to be even more fun than she'd anticipated.
