Coming to, I had a dull ache in my head. My throat felt horribly parched. It was agony just to swallow. My heavy eyelids slowly lifted open and gradually my vision came into focus. Propping myself up against my elbows, I realized in a panic that I had chains around my hands and ankles. And I was in some kind of dungeon. A pitch-black dungeon. In one corner there was a rickety wooden stool—the only piece of furniture in the room—and beneath me there was… straw. Straw which, strangely, was just as disconcerting as the manacles that bound me. It gave the feel of some kind of medieval prison.
What the hell is this place?
My breathing coming fast and uneven, I hauled myself into a sitting position. Then I tried to stand but I was too tall, my chains too short. I was forced to slouch, even as I strained against my restraints. They were stuck fast to the stone wall.
“Hey!” I rasped, wincing as my throat burned. “Hey! Where am I?”
My voice echoed eerily off the bare walls. I broke out in a cold sweat, fear coursing through me.
Damn it!
I was about to yell again when I caught the distant sound of footsteps approaching outside. I froze, my heart pounding. The heavy footsteps drew nearer and nearer until they stopped outside the door. Keys clinked and scraped against metal. A bolt was drawn, and then the heavy oaken door creaked open with agonizing slowness. A warm glow spilled into the dungeon from the corridor, and inside stepped the same man who had kidnapped me. Only this time, he wore no mask.
Derek Novak.
Fear turned to fury.
“You!” I hissed.
Derek eyed me with infuriating calmness. He walked over to me, stopping just far enough away from me that I could not reach out and swipe him.
I let out a growl. I couldn’t stand the thought of Derek Novak making a victim out of me. I would rather be staked immediately. Since I was unable to reach him, the only act of defiance I could manage was to spit at him, but he dodged, my saliva missing its mark.
“You do not like darkness?” he asked, his voice deep and rumbling.
“What?” I snapped.
“I’m quite positive that you heard my question.”
“No, I don’t like darkness!” I replied, hating that I was having to play along with his game. I might’ve been a creature of night, but no vampire liked to be stuck in a room completely devoid of light.
“Then you will want to step into the light, will you not?” He gestured toward the inviting glow of the corridor.
“Just get to the point,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Very well,” he replied. “Once you have agreed to stop living in darkness, I will let you into the light.”
“You’re the one who put me here—!”
Derek bulldozed over me. “Once you agree to accept the truth about your father and stop blaming myself and my family for wrongs we didn’t commit, I will set you free.”
Every inch of my skin prickled at his words. How dare he do this to me. How dare he!
I cursed at him, stringing together as many swear words as I knew.
At this, Derek merely nodded and even smiled slightly. “Not ready yet?” he asked. He shrugged his shoulders. “Okay.”
With that, he turned his back on me. Sweeping out of the door, he closed it behind him, plunging me back into darkness.
Ben
The first signs of true life showed in the ghost as I spoke his name. Slowly, he leaned closer toward me, his jaded blue eyes narrowing. His face, gaunt and worn, twisted as he scrutinized me.
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice faint. Though as washed out as his tone was, it was uncanny how much it resembled my father’s.
“Benjamin,” I replied, still stammering with shock. “Benjamin Novak.”
His dead eyes sparked with alarm, and then he began shaking his head, forcefully for one I’d presumed to be so lifeless.
“No!” he gasped. “Not again! Not again!”
His hands shot up around his head and he scrunched his eyes tightly shut. His face contorted as though in some kind of agony, he moved back into his corner, where he curled up and hid his head behind his knees.
“Not again!” he whimpered. “Don’t do this to me!”
What is he talking about?
The man must’ve lost his mind.
How long had he been down here? He had died before my sister and I were even conceived. That meant he’d left his body almost nineteen years ago. The nature of his death had been sudden and unexpected—with my grandfather taking him down with a bullet. I guessed that was cause enough to become a ghost. But had he really been trapped in The Underworld all that time? I recalled Marcilla’s words, how all of these ponds were ordered chronologically—the older the recruit, the deeper they were in The Underworld. We were deep. Very deep.
“You’re not my son!” he shrieked. His voice rang horribly loud through the water. So loud I feared it would attract the attention of the ghouls. Even some of the other ghosts, comatose against the ground, stirred a little, their heads tilting toward him. “You’re not my son!”
“Shh!” I hurried toward him as he continued to shout, cursing that I was unable to grab his shoulders and shake him into silence. “Please, Lucas! You must be quiet!”
But he only continued to howl and insist that I was not his son.
Utterly bewildered as to what the heck was going through his mind—why does he even think he has a son?—I moved close to his ear and spoke as quietly as I could to avoid making any more noise than we had already. “I know I’m not your son!” I hissed. “I never said that I was. I’m your nephew.”