Over the next few days, Cohen took stock of his situation.
There were three floors to the underground base. The top floor held the hacker experts, or at least, that was what Cohen overheard. He’d never been upstairs.
Fifteen mercenaries were housed on the middle floor: some heavy and muscular, others slim and silent, but they all crackled with pent-up energy, pacing, sharpening, waiting for further instruction.
On the third floor, at the bottom of the stairwell, were the six Huma followers, plus Sydel and Huma herself. They were shielding the base from surveillance and infusing the weapons supply with energy. Sydel refused to participate, despite bribes and threats from Keller, and was only protected through Huma’s intervention. During their daily visits, listening to her recount, Cohen burned with fear for the girl. He already felt nauseous most of the time, worse if he thought about their situation too much.
And Keller didn’t help with Cohen’s anxiety. The strange man came to see Cohen often, drawing him into private conversations, reminding Cohen that he must be ready to prove his worth at any moment. In the same breath, Keller would remark on how satisfying it would be to get his well-deserved revenge on Huma. Cohen only nodded in response as his insides twisted.
On the fourth day, Keller’s shadow entered the second floor. Cohen desperately looked to Nox for rescue. But the man was in the middle of a raucous conversation with the other mercenaries. Nox didn’t seem to see how twisted this all was; there was a thrill in his voice, no matter the topic of conversation. Well, Cohen didn’t care how much money they were offering or how much potential Keller saw in him. He would never forget the feel of electricity ripping through his spine.
With no available distraction, on command Cohen followed Keller into that now-familiar stairwell and down to the third floor platform. Cohen remained on the bottom step, as Keller wandered over to the door marked 3. The man leaned his forehead against the door: at first gently, and then harder, so the exposed parts of his brow grew white.
“If you had Huma to yourself,” Cohen heard the man murmur. “What would you do to her? Would you want her to suffer, or to die outright?”
“I don’t know,” Cohen responded, his throat tight.
Keller turned his face towards him. So Cohen faked a laugh. “I’d make it quick. But brutal.” The consonants echoed up to the rocky ceiling.
Keller pressed his back against the metal. “It’s so hard to stay on this side of the door when all you want to do is tear them apart.”
Cohen flinched involuntarily. Keller caught it. “Not your girl, of course,” the man added. “Though you understand why I am wary around her.”
“Of course,” Cohen agreed in a hurry. “After what happened to you and your cousins, of course.”
A long stretch of silence. Then Keller spoke again. “I hear you refuse to touch the infused weapons. Why?”
For once, Cohen felt like he could be honest. “Whatever it is, energy, essence, whatever, it’s creepy. I don’t want any part of it.”
Keller grinned. He pushed up off the door, clapping a cold hand on Cohen’s shoulder. “It was all Xanto, you know, getting Huma involved. I never wanted a part of them. I suppose they serve a purpose, for now, but you’re right, we shouldn’t rely on their tricks.”
If I keep agreeing with him, Cohen thought the whole while, if I keep on his good side, he’ll let me go. If he likes me enough, he’ll let Sydel come too.
It was something to cling to, as Cohen moved through the day, watching the slow build of anticipation, praying for some kind of clue on how to get out.