A Fork of Paths

“You can head off now, Beatrice,” Mark said. “I’ll handle things from here.”

She nodded and, eyeing me briefly once more, took off toward a line of elevators on the opposite side of the room.

Mark led me to the reception desk.

“I need a room in the east wing,” he said to one of the receptionists.

She eyed me briefly before consulting a computer. “56A is unoccupied,” she replied.

“That’ll do fine,” Mark said.

The woman walked to a cabinet and withdrew a key. She handed it to Mark, who then led me toward the elevators. By now all of the other hunters had cleared off, and as the elevator arrived and we stepped inside, I was left standing awkwardly, alone with this stranger.

He pushed the button for the third floor. On arrival, the doors dinged open and we emerged in a wide corridor which was mostly empty except for the odd hunter moving in and out of rooms. There was a line of large, beechwood doors to our right, while to our left was nothing but glass, granting us a view out onto the snowy terrain. My stomach was too tense for me to admire how beautiful it was.

We reached the end of the corridor and arrived at the entrance of a glass tunnel. It was a walkway, connecting this building to the neighboring one on the opposite mountain peak. It reminded me a little of the glass walkways that connected some of the treehouses in the Residences back in The Shade. As we moved through the transparent tunnel, to my discomfort, the floor was also made of glass—allowing a more than generous view of the steep drop below.

I began to lose track of where he was taking me after that. We wound around more corridors, stepped into more elevators, and passed along more transparent walkways from one building to another.

All the while, I wished that Mark would stop being so tight-lipped and just put me out of my misery. He already knew that I was helpless. Just knowing my location wouldn’t make it any easier for me to escape. I was certain that they’d already searched me thoroughly for any kind of communication device. I had no way of communicating with the outside world.

Eventually, as I’d just about had enough of all the walking, we arrived inside a huge enclosed courtyard. Its dome ceiling was—no surprise—made of glass, allowing sunshine to stream through and illuminate the place. As he began leading me along one of the wide verandas, I found myself peering through full-glass doors into… prison cells? To my shock, they appeared to be filled with supernaturals—grotesque birdlike creatures that resembled harpies I’d read about in fairytales, ogres in some of the larger cells, and other strange creatures that I wasn’t yet knowledgeable enough to even put a name to. He kept walking, leading me deeper into the courtyard until I spotted a large tank of water filled with merfolk. There must have been at least thirty in there, men and women alike.

Where did they get them all from? Perhaps that was a dumb question. I guessed that the supernaturals must have ventured into the human realm and gotten themselves caught. Strangely, I couldn’t spot a single vampire. The fact that the hunters had been intending to kill Derek, Sofia and Aiden on that cluster of rocks, coupled with the lack of vampires here, made me think that perhaps the hunters weren’t that interested in them anymore. Perhaps the hunters had learnt all they wished to know over the years, and now simply saw vampires as a pest to be exterminated.

Mark led me closer to the tank of merfolk. Their unpleasant faces were livid as we approached, and they began pounding their fists against the glass container so violently I feared they’d smash it. I could only wonder how the hunters had managed to make the glass so strong as to withstand the strength of all these supernaturals. Finally, Mark stopped outside a glass door, directly opposite to the merfolk tank. He opened it with a key and pushed it wide open for me to step inside.

“This will be your room while you’re here,” he said, entering after me and glancing briefly around the room.

While you’re here. Again, his choice of words gave me hope that perhaps there was light at the end of the tunnel. I just wished that I knew how long this tunnel was.

To my surprise, Mark reached for my wrists and freed me of the restraints. Then he swept across the room and out of the door, locking it behind him. I listened to the sound of his resounding footsteps disappearing down the veranda.

I gazed around the empty room. There were lots of things I could fault the hunters for, but cleanliness certainly wasn’t one of them. If anything, this room appeared to be even cleaner than the cabin they’d given me in the submarine. The bed also had a softer, deeper mattress and two perky pillows. The floor was sparkling clean, cleaner than many a restaurant plate I’d eaten from in the past. Rubbing my sore wrists together, I checked out the basic bathroom furnishings before taking a seat on the bed, testing its softness. There was a small bedside table with a lamp, and what appeared to be a fresh set of clothes—plain black clothes, a top and pants—just like those the hunters wore.

Heaving a deep sigh, I shuffled backward on the mattress until my back hit the wall. I wrapped myself in the wool blanket. Although the temperature was moderate in this room, I was still recovering from the cold outside. At least I felt a little less tense now that I was on my own again. For the first time, I realized that I was starving. My stomach ached. I had to hope they’d give me something to eat later.

I leaned my head against the wall and stared out of the glass door at the tank of merfolk, perfectly positioned for me to have full view of. To my discomfort, they were all glaring at me. There weren’t even curtains or a blind I could pull across the door for some privacy.