Nestor’s heart had climbed into his throat and he was fighting the urge to bolt.

“N--”

He clamped his hand over Sylvie’s mouth, but the woman was already turning curiously toward the sound. She stood in sharp relief against the bright red light behind her and Nestor realized he wasn’t able to see just where she was looking. He cursed. Was the light reflecting on their faces? He didn’t dare duck behind the crates and risk movement.

Sylvie went very still beside him as the woman took a step in their direction.

“Who’s there?” the woman demanded. She took another step and stopped. “If it’s you, I’ll be hiding mealworms in your bedding for the next month!”

He stopped breathing, not wanting to risk the sound or the movement. They sat like that for a small eternity before the woman finally turned away. She strode over to the glowing thing and scooped it up, with a final look all around the room, she stepped out, the door clanging behind her.

Neither Nestor nor Sylvie dared to move until long after the woman’s footsteps faded. He still had his hand over her mouth and dared to loosen it, but kept his other arm firmly around her.

At last, Sylvie shifted under his grip and stood up. Part of him wanted to pull her back down to the safety of the crates, but he drew in a deep breath. They couldn’t stay here.

“That was horrible,” Sylvie said with her voice trembling. The room had been cast into near darkness, but he thought he could see something shining on her cheeks in the faint red light. She ran over to the collapsed woman and Nestor leapt up to follow her.

Sylvie was already feeling along the woman’s neck when he caught up to her.

“She's dead, isn’t she?” Sylvie asked.

The woman lay there limp, those crystalline eyes staring vaguely into the distance.

Nestor swallowed and placed a hand on Sylvie’s shoulder. “Come on, we need to get out of here,” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady. He didn’t manage it.

“We could have saved her,” Sylvie said. She was still gazing at the crystalline woman and was now trembling all over. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

Nestor grasped at her hands, trying to pull her away from the horrific sight. She hardly budged--didn’t seem fully aware that he was even there. “You saw what happened, there was no way we could have stopped that.”

At last Sylvie tore her gaze away from the limp woman and looked up at him. She nodded and wiped at her eyes.

“Henry’s a part of this,” she muttered. “I have to stop him.”

“Not right now,” Nestor said as firmly as he was able. “We have to leave before we can save anybody, ok?” The bright red gaze of the woman seemed to bore into him as he said it and sent his insides squirming. They couldn’t have saved her. She hadn’t even wanted them to try! He pulled Sylvie towards the door, relieved when she followed with one last look at the table where the woman lay there as limp as a discarded doll.

He had just touched the door handle when the sound of footsteps filled the hallway once more, but this time instead of just one set of clicking boots, there were two, just out of sync with each other.

Sylvie dove into action before he could recover from his shock. She pulled him back to their pile of crates and the both of them were crouched back behind them just as the door began to creak open.

“You really lost another one,” a gruff voice laughed coldly.

Sylvie’s breath caught and her fingernails dug into Nestor’s wrist.

“It’s what we pay you for, Henry,” the haughty voice of the woman said as she stepped back into the room. “I’d assume you’d jump at the chance for any extra money right now. “That shop of yours hardly runs itself.”

“It will once I get my niece to behave,” Sylvie’s uncle stepped into the dim, red light. Under the garish color, his ruddy cheeks were thrust into sharper relief and his eyes reflected a muddy brown instead of their brilliant green that matched Sylvie’s.

“Yes,” the woman said with a disdainful sniff. “And how’s that going? The little firecracker finally told you off, didn’t she? You’re hardly going to be able to go much longer before people start to notice.”

“She’s safe in one of the cells. I think I’ll have to donate her little friend to you soon though. Letting her see this operation might be exactly what she needs to whip her back into shape.”

Sylvie’s fingernails dug further into Nestor’s arm and he risked gently pulling her hand off of him. She glanced at him, her eyes wide and the corners of her lips twitching in an open snarl.

He raised his hands in a peace making gesture, but she had already turned to the conversation unfolding before them.

“Donate?” the woman asked. “Surely you’re not that generous.”

The man grinned, his teeth glinting red in the light. “You know me well. He’s a pirate and off the official log book. Perfect candidate for…this,” he gestured at the woman’s crystalline body.

The woman in the dress nodded, considering. “Is he strong?”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Enough.” Henry shrugged. “He’ll probably last a couple of days at least, maybe weeks if you're careful.”

“How much?” the woman asked.

“How does 50 pounds sound?” Henry paused and looked at the table. “Where did you put the catalyst?”

“I moved it. It has plenty of energy from this poor woman, and I doubt it’ll need more for a few days at least.”

“Ah,” Henry said, sounding disappointed. “I suppose that means you won’t be wanting the boy then.”

“Perhaps next week, and yes, we’ll give you 50 pounds for him.” The woman straightened further. “Payment for her removal should get you through until then.”

“I…yes, of course.” Henry bent over the crystalline woman and threw her over his shoulder with surprising strength. He started towards the door but the woman cleared her thoat, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wait, Henry. I think there’s a rat in that corner, would you be so kind as to kill it for me?”

Henry slowly turned toward her, an expectant smile plastered over his face.

“Yes, I’ll pay you extra,” she sighed.

Henry dropped the woman to the floor. She hit with the dull thud of rock on rock.

Sylvie gripped Nestor’s arm, staring at him in panic as her uncle drew closer to the crates. Her eyes were wide and wild, reflecting the dull red light of the room.

Nestor’s own heart had taken up residence in his throat. What would the pair do to them when they found him? He swallowed as Henry’s footsteps drew closer. Sylvie was valuable to Henry, he wouldn’t hurt her. Nestor though.

“Run,” Nestor whispered to Sylvie. The footsteps froze and he took his chance to leap over the crates, pushing off them to drive his feet into Henry’s chest.

The man fell backward with a yell. His eyes bulged from his skull as he glared at Nestor who found himself perched atop the crates.

“You,” Henry seethed.

Nestor nodded. “Me,” he agreed.

What’s the first rule about fighting, boy? Amos’s words rang through his mind and Nestor set his jaw.

There’s no such thing as a fair fight, a smaller version of him answered.

Nestor leapt from off the crates, landing on Henry’s chest. He skidded as Henry gasped for air and collapsed in a heap next to him, but the man was still gasping and he clamored to his feet before the larger man could regain control of his breathing.

“Sylvie, go!” he shouted. Through the corner of his eye he could see her standing beside the crates, frozen in shock.

“Sylvia?” Henry growled from beneath him. Nestor punched him across the jaw. The man growled and spat at him so he did it again. Again and again, falling into a rhythm that his knuckles ached under.

From across the room the woman began to laugh. “Really, Henry, is this the boy that was giving you so much trouble?”

Nestor froze, he had forgotten about the woman. In his split second of hesitation something grabbed his wrist and he found himself once again staring into Henry’s leering face. One of his teeth had been knocked loose and what remained were covered in sticky red.

“This is all your fault, isn’t it, boy.” He shoved Nestor off of him with a savage punch to his stomach. Nestor gasped, aware of someone screaming in the background and that he was laying across something hard and cold.

Not again! He thought desperately. He could not afford to fail again. He sprung up, but a hand with deceptive strength smacked him across the back of his neck and sent him tumbling back to the ground.

“NO!” Sylvie screamed.

There was a sharp crack followed by Henry’s cry of pain. Nestor managed to look up to see that she was holding one end of one of the wooden panels the crates were made of.

The other end lay by Henry’s feet.

Nestor shook himself and pushed himself to his feet. His head spun, but he managed to keep his footing.

“Come on!” he shouted, grabbing Sylvie’s hand. Her gaze snapped to him, anger still burning in her eyes. “We have to go!” he pulled her after him in a dead sprint towards the door. No guards greeted him when he wrenched it open, just inky darkness.

That would have to do.

“Are you going to help me or not?” Henry’s angry voice echoed through the hallways as Nestor and Sylvie ran.

“If you can’t deal with a couple of teenagers, that’s really on you,” she replied. “But fine, I’ll help.”

Nestor grit his teeth and put on a burst of speed. Which way was out? Could they hide? Every dark shadow and vacant cell looked the same to his eyes, which way had they even come from?

“Nestor!” a voice gasped out from behind him. He skidded to a halt, horror smashing into him as though he had just ran into one of the stone walls.

Sylvie had stopped behind him, her face ashen and pulling at an ankle that was somehow sinking into the stone. Dull blue light began to fill the hallway and she stared at him, terrified. “Nestor?”

He bolted for her, grabbing around her and wrenching with all his strength. A strange sucking sound filled the air as the stone fought him. He tumbled backward with her in his arms suddenly. The stone, which had been nearly liquid moments before solidified into something vaguely white in the blue light. He swallowed and glanced at Sylvie. She still had both feet, although one shoe was missing.

“Go!” He urged her, shoving her to her feet and in front of him. Some part of him whispered that their mad dash was hopeless, a part that he quickly banished.

“There’s no point in running,” a voice that echoed his thoughts called out. A feminine voice.

Nestor risked a glance back to see the woman in the red dress striding towards them. She held the odd gold object aloft, but instead of glowing violent red, it had turned to a deep blue.

“There’s nowhere you can go,” she called happily.

Nestor cursed. His feet began to skid and he looked down to see the cobbles fusing together into something slick and pungent smelling.

He skidded, nearly losing his balance, but Sylvie grabbed his hand and pulled him to her section of normal stone. Before they could start running again, the stone beneath them seemed to crumble and suck at their feet.

He pulled with all his strength, but the more he struggled, the more the stone seemed to hungrily suck at him. First his ankles, and then up to his calves embedded in the liquid-stone. Beside him Sylvie was hardly doing any better. She had stopped struggling and was sinking slower than him with her gaze fixed on the blue light that was drawing ever closer.

The woman in the red dress strode closer, laughing quietly to herself.

Nestor flailed one last time, but all that managed was for him to sink a couple inches further.

“My, my,” the woman said. “You really did give old Henry a run for his money, didn’t you?”

Sylvie grabbed Nestor’s hand. She was shaking, or he was, or they both were, he couldn’t tell. “Who are you?” she demanded.

The woman tilted her head, the silver strands in her bun reflecting the light of the thing in her palms. He stared at it, the bit of his brain that had been itching finally shifting into place.

Where it took two of her hands to cup it, it would have easily fit in one of Amos’s.

He had found the skeleton treasure.