Lucca grips the end of the stake firmly and rips it free of your body. It vacates your chest cavity with an obscene sucking sound, glistening with the wetness of your dark, sluggish Blood. She steps back before you can move to join her and pushes a button on the wall. A door of thick steel bars crashes closed in front of you, propelled by some unseen mechanism.
The air feels disturbingly sterile and a quick sniff informs you that the walls and floor have been heavily scrubbed with bleach as well as several other chemical cleaners. It's similar to other interrogation chambers you've encountered—two chairs, off-white walls, and an uncomfortably bright fluorescent light scorching the center of the room while leaving the corners dim. There's not much of a question as to where the focus point is.
"Stand back, away from the bars," she warns. "They're warded by blood sorcery. The state you're in, that might just be enough to finish you off; and despite what Corliss may have said, I don't think you deserve to suffer that kind of final death."