23 Hours: A Vengeful Vampire Tale(37)

Clara was shocked. “How did you ever end up in this job? If you feel that way, then why would you even want it? I would think if you devoted your life to caring for prisoners, you would at least try to believe in them.”

Bellows rolled her eyes. “I was young once, like you. I thought big, grand thoughts like that. Then I saw the reality. It’s been years since I thought of myself as a caretaker. And that’s not even the job anymore. We used to talk about rehabilitating prisoners. That was the term we used, the justification for why we lock them up in such brutal conditions. Now—the term we use is warehousing. This prison, all the prisons like this all over the world, they aren’t places of healing. They’re places where you store people, like you would store toxic waste.”

“That’s horrible. I can’t accept that,” Clara said.

The warden shrugged. “Accept it or don’t, I’m just stating fact. I don’t care—society doesn’t care—if Malvern eats every single piece of human wreckage in Marcy The women in here don’t care about each other, even. They fight constantly. They kill each other over the most pathetic of slights. They certainly don’t care about me. I can’t walk around this place without wearing a stab-proof vest. So why should I care about them? What I do care about is myself. My continued existence. I wasted my life, I see that now. I just want a second chance to get it right, and if I have to drink blood to get it—if I have to rot away slowly, fine. It’s better than the alternative, which is death. Life is always worth more than death.”

“And you think Malvern’s doing this out of the goodness of her heart? Did it ever occur to you that she’s just using you?” Clara fumed. “Did you think it’s a coincidence that she approached you only after Laura Caxton was sentenced to this prison? This particular prison? She doesn’t care about your second chance. She cares about getting to Caxton, and that’s it.”

Bellows laughed bitterly. “Of course! I’m not an idiot, and you should make a point of remembering that. Of course she’s using me. And in return, I’m using her right back. That’s how it works. That’s how it always works.” She glanced up. Malvern was beckoning to her. “Come on. If you walk too fast, you’ll know it.”

Clara shuffled forward, glaring over her shoulder at the warden as she followed Malvern out of the office. Franklin, the CO who had brought Clara in, brought up the rear. He seemed to be the warden’s personal bodyguard or maybe her chief of staff.

A receiving line of half-deads stood outside, lined up against the walls of the corridor. Most of them were wearing the uniforms of COs, COs who had to be dead by now. It looked like the half-deads were running the prison now, on Malvern’s behalf.

Clara thought about the crime scenes she’d investigated with Glauer, the audacious murders Malvern had committed in the days just before she took over the prison. She realized why things had gotten so explosive now. They’d thought it must be because Malvern needed so much blood. Clearly she’d also wanted as many victims as possible—she needed her own private army of half-deads to run the prison. Each and every one of these creatures had been a living human being once with a family, with friends. Now they were just slaves.

Clara found it hard to sympathize, though, when they sniggered and leered at her as she walked past.

The four of them, Malvern, Clara, Franklin, and the warden, made their way through the maze of locked doors deep into the prison. There was no waiting at control gates this time or any checking of IDs. The doors were mostly unlocked, and those that weren’t opened before Malvern even reached them. Clara glanced up at the ceiling and saw there were cameras watching every hallway, every small room they passed through. There must be half-deads in a central command center somewhere, watching.

She was starting to worry that everything was not going to be okay. That even Laura couldn’t save her from this situation. The idea had never occurred to her before that moment, but once it arrived she couldn’t get it out of her head.

She could die there, in that prison. Worse, she could be used as bait to lure Laura into a trap. And then both of them would be killed. Or worse. She was pretty sure that Malvern intended to make Laura a vampire. Malvern had done that to other vampire killers, in the past. She seemed to find it deliciously ironic.

As for herself, Clara doubted she’d be given the same option.

The four of them passed through one last door, a massive sheet of reinforced iron. Malvern smiled and stepped aside. “Best if they don’t see me as of yet,” she said. “You go first, child.” She gestured for Clara to step forward, through the door. Clara shuffled forward and was instantly engulfed in noise. They had reached one of the dormitories—what a previous generation might have called a cell block—and the women housed inside were going crazy. The noise was intense and oceanic. Though it had to be made up of individual shouts and questions and profanities, the stone walls and steel bars of the prison reverberated with the noise and made it just one clamorous roar.