“No. That’s what they call me. My name is Karma,” the woman said, looking up. Her eyes were a light brown, almost topaz.

Right. Grace moved closer to the glass. “You have to help us.” She now saw there was kindness in the woman as well as fear. Grace realized the shadows in the photographs hadn’t come from her. They’d hovered all around her.

“I can’t.” Karma pointed to the food. “You have to eat to keep strong. The food is good and not dosed with anything.” She turned to go.

“Wait,” Grace said. “What about Rose? The little girl. Where is she?”

Karma clasped her hands together and turned back. “She’s safe right now.” She angled her neck to study Benny behind Grace. “He needs blood to heal.” Then she looked up at the corner, ducked her head, and scrambled back down the hallway.

Grace glanced up to find a camera mounted in the corner. Great. They were being watched. She pulled the food toward Benny and sat next to him.

“Okay, Ben,” she whispered. “Karma was right.” She’d have to force blood down his throat somehow. The food was simple oatmeal, accompanied by a couple of spoons and juice boxes. No knives. How was she going to cut her wrist? It wasn’t as if she had fangs.

She gingerly opened Benny’s mouth and pushed on his damaged gums. Nothing. She looked around the cell. There was nothing sharp anywhere. Her gaze caught on the bathroom. She suddenly had to go. Bad. Wincing and feeling self-conscious, she hurried over to take care of business. Hopefully the bathroom wasn’t visible on camera, but just in case, she barely took her jeans down and covered herself with her sweater. She flushed, and partially turned to view the toilet. It was standard.

She took off the lid as the water slowly filled the tank.

The stopper was held in place by a thin chain. That’d do it. She unhooked the chain as fast as she could, just in case there were other cameras around.

Nobody came running, so she sliced into her wrist, scratching more than cutting. Darn it. Holding her breath, she cut as deep as she could, pressing her lips together as the pain increased. Soon she had a decent wound. Holding her wrist to her body, she hustled over to Benny and sat on her knees, spooning some of the oatmeal at the same time. She bent over his body, her back to the camera. “You have to eat this oatmeal,” she said, shoving it in his mouth and following with her wrist.

Her blood mixed with the oatmeal in his mouth.

That was so gross.