“Get back in the car!” Asher tacks on. “We’re right behind you.”
“I can’t wait,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
I reach out and tap the touchscreen, cutting them both off. Two seconds later, I’m tiptoeing down the street, cursing my shoes and heading for the door. I don’t know what I’m going to do once I’m inside, but I can’t stand out here, helpless, useless…
Especially now that I can hear the sounds of a struggle, Jess’s muffled screams, the muttered warning of “Shut her the hell up.” Sucking in a breath, I ease into the building and keep my back pressed flat against the wall. I’m in a loading area, surrounded by dusty pallets and shelving full of unidentifiable industrial parts. The only light in the room struggles through a row of filthy windows set high up the walls, near the ceiling. I work my way slowly to the source of the noise: a back office, lit up with pale blue halogens. Pausing behind a stack of massive tires, I can make out the open metal cabinets, surgical equipment, hanging transfusion bags. The scents of blood and rubbing alcohol hit me at the same time, and it’s all I can do not to retch.
They’re strapping Jess down, hooking her up, and I watch in sick horror as crimson fluid makes its way toward her, a steady drip of poison that I know is going to burn. Sure enough, the second it hits her vein, the muffled screaming starts again, an echo of my own nightmares.
Before they can activate the second IV, I start shoving at the nearest set of shelves. It’s heavier than expected, so I put my shoulder to it and push hard. As soon as it starts to topple, I sprint down the aisle, ducking behind a pallet loaded with crates and spiderwebs. The shelf and a dozen metal pans hit the floor with an almighty crash, and there’s a flurry of shouts from the office.
“What the fuck—”
“Someone’s out there.”
And a voice… his voice says, “Finish the job. I’ll go check.”
Two sets of footsteps, but only one set of wind chimes. There’s the click of a heavy light switch, then another, but nothing happens.
“The wiring in this building is for shit,” he mutters, flicking it over and over again, each one like a gunshot fired off in my head.
A second voice answers. “Yeah, well, we’re not exactly using this part of the warehouse, Tiberius.”
The nightmare has a name.
“A pile of shit fell over,” he says. “Now, get back in there and stick her with the other needle—”
But then he—Tiberius—stops himself. Turns in a slow circle. Two hands rise up from the darkness and push back the hood of his sweatshirt, exposing the sharply-cut planes of his face to the glow of the streetlights. He tilts his head up ever so slightly, and then smiles.
“I can smell you, love,” he says. “Still wearing that same sweet perfume. Like peaches. Brings back good memories every time I catch a whiff.”
I don’t move. I don’t breathe. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. His footfalls are heavy on the concrete floor and I take a moment to reach down, to snap off the spindle heel of one shoe, then the other.
Sorry, Christian…
“Last I heard, you were in a body bag, headed for the incinerator. One more little lost soul.” A clucking noise, almost like he’s amused by this turn of events. “But nothing quite sticks on you, does it? Not even death.”
I’m crouched down, balancing on the balls of my feet, watching as he meanders up the main row like he’s searching for a Mänsklig Flicka at Ikea. I don’t have a weapon; all I have is my backup, which may or may not arrive in time. Jess’s muffled screams turn into full-fledged shrieks, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
Someone must have taken out the gag.
“I love that sound.” A soft chuckle. “Do you remember the screaming? I do. Like music to my ears.”
He’s getting closer, homing in on me like a bloodhound. He stops at the last second, turning and squinting into the darkness. I catch the quick flash of a rat as it scurries through the debris, and the animal holds his attention right up to the point where I back into the nearest shelf. A metal tire rim clatters to the floor, and Tiberius’s head snaps around, those eerily-mercurial eyes fixing on my face. No hope that he doesn’t see me, because he peers through the wide shelves and various pieces of metal and junk, then smiles and takes a step forward, crouching down for a better look.
“’Allo, love. Why don’t you come around here and we can have us a little chat?”
Another scream pierces the air, and I clamp down on the metal ledge behind me, drawing in air through flared nostrils because if I open my mouth, I’ll scream too. I don’t speak until I know my voice will be steady, and even then I don’t dare chance more than three words. “Let her go.”
“You don’t get to make demands,” Tiberius says. “You’ve got no leverage.”
“If you let her go. I’ll stay,” I tell him. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Oh, sweet girl,” he says, “you’ll do that anyway.”
A sound behind me makes me jump, but before I can pull away, two hands clamp down on my arms from the other side of the shelves. It’s the second guy, the vampire, his stronger-than-ten-men muscle pinning me in place. Tiberius disappears, his stride rapid and heavy as he rounds the corner. Panic envelops me as I wait for the executioner’s axe to fall. Flipping through any and every alternative, I come up with the only one that’s likely to work. Bracing my feet flat upon the floor, I push. Push until the shelf wobbles back, pull forward until it sways, then push again until the whole thing tips, spilling its contents all over my captor. The entire unit follows, falling down and taking me with it. My back hits the metal slats with painful accuracy, and I’m momentarily stunned, air knocked from my lungs. Gasping, I somehow manage to evade the flailing hands that keep making mad grabs for anything within reach.
Tiberius stops at the edge of the debris, smiling like he’s vaguely impressed. “You gonna run, love?”
“Yes,” I croak out, struggling for breath, struggling to get upright, struggling for purchase on anything more stable than a floor littered with ball bearings and metal hubcaps. “I do believe… I will run now.” My snapped-off Louboutin catches a metal bearing and skids, my foot sliding out from under me until my hip bangs against a wooden crate. “Maybe.”
He takes one menacing step forward and then another, picking his way toward me with lethal determination. More tentative tiptoeing on my end, and I clear the ball pit. The second my feet touch down on solid concrete, I take off at a full sprint, headed toward the room where they’re holding Jess. A glance backward tells me that Tiberius is still working his way through the mess I made. He ignores the neophyte wedged beneath the shelving and just keeps coming, like the Terminator and—
“Oof!” I slam face-first into a hard plane, one that I’m fairly sure wasn’t there a second ago. When I lift my eyes to look, I’m expecting to see the other vamp friend.
“Heya, Lo. Miss me?”
Fuck.
“Benicio,” I say, and swallow hard. “I, um…” Fuck! “Help me. Please?”
His smarmy grin turns into a frown as he looks over my shoulder at Tiberius, who’s marching double-time. The other vamp pops out of the smaller room and heads straight for us.
Just me and my serial killer stalker. No biggie.
Benicio trails a finger down my cheek. “I got this, Lo. I’m not going to let anyone else hurt you.”
Because he wants to keep that honor for himself.
As the one puny mortal in a room full of immortals, I have zero options right now. Suppressing a shudder, I muster a smile and look up at Benny in what I hope is an encouraging manner. His mouth is but a hairbreadth from mine, and I get the distinct impression that he’s about to—
Please, please don’t kiss me.
I’m already bracing for impact when Benicio turns, his hand catching the office vamp by the face. Before our attacker can get off a single scream, his skin turns gray. His entire body follows suit, and within seconds, there’s nothing left of Tiberiu
s’s henchman but a pile of ash and clothing. Blinking twice, I stare at the sin-eater, but he only gives me his signature greasy smile, hitching one shoulder as if he dusts vampires on the daily.
“Who the hell are you?” Tiberius demands, breaking into our little circle.
When I turn around, I find myself boxed in by the enemy. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Jess’s next cry dwindles to a piteous moan. Benicio’s hand clamps down on my shoulder, dragging me back and putting me behind the hulking shield of his body.
“I got this.” And he puts his hands out, Kung-Fu style, like he’s about to karate chop his foe to death. “Watch and learn.”
And then he’s off, my knight in Abercrombie & Fitch and a serious amount of Polo by Ralph Lauren. Benicio winds up and swings at Tiberius, the latter easily dodging the wide arc of the punch. A second later, Tiberius has the sin-eater in a choke hold, and I’m seriously rethinking the wisdom of siccing one killer on another. The tide turns when Benicio shakes the hold and manages to land a punch, clipping Tiberius on the jaw and setting those creepy strings of metal teeth to jangling. He doesn’t dust him like he did the other vamp, so either he’s out of juice or he simply can’t.
Movement in the distance catches my eye. The vamp that was crushed under the shelves has finally managed to get free, and as soon as he gets his bearings, this fight’s probably going to be two-on-one. Turning, I sprint toward the office. Jess’s screams are jagged, heartfelt shrieks of agony that trigger some serious PTSD on my part. I skid to a halt inside the doorway, grabbing hold of the jamb to slow my momentum. She’s strapped to a stainless steel table—
Cold, unyielding. I’m kicking so hard my skin bruises. Screaming so loud my throat goes raw…
Breathing in through my mouth and out through my nose, I shove the memories aside and dash toward the table. Jess’s body arches, bowing at the middle as she lifts up off the hard surface. The blood—her blood—has already started pushing out of her pores, and it’s soaking through her clothing. My fingers find the place where the needles enter her arms, and I carefully pull the tubes loose, peeling back the medical tape and unhooking her from the haphazard warehouse camp clinic.
“Jess,” I whisper. Her eyes pop open, and I’m stunned to see that the deep brown of her irises has transitioned to a shocking red. When she opens her mouth to speak, I find myself searching for fangs, but apparently those come later. “I’m going to get you out of here. Can you walk?”
“Go,” she whispers. “Lolo, get away from—”
Another spasm hits her, cutting off the warning. I’ve got no choice but to wait for it to pass before I hook my hands around her upper arms and pull her into a sitting position.
“I’m not leaving you,” I tell her.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she gasps, but lets me slide her off the table and onto her feet. With her arm slung over my shoulder and mine gripping her waist, I guide Jess toward the office door. “You need to leave me and go, Lolo. Cas wouldn’t want—”
Her legs buckle and her body drops to the floor, dragging me down with her. There’s a few seconds of mad scrambling as my hands slide across the slick surface of her skin, trying to find purchase. Once I have her propped up again, I begin what seems like a forever-march. Benicio and Tiberius are still scrabbling, two titans clashing without realizing that their prize is getting away. They’ve reached some sort of impasse, neither one able to do much damage to the other. When the third vamp joins the fray, Benny catches his fist within his own, and the other henchman goes down in a second pile of ash.
“Lolo—”
“Shhh, they’ll hear you.” And I hate to say it, but I have to add, “Try not to scream.”
There has to be another door out of this place. Benicio and Tiberius are between us and the one I used to come in, and I doubt I could drag Jess through the mess I made when the shelf tipped over, anyway. Off to my right, there’s a huge rolling door, the kind that a semi could back into with a trailer, but the chain is padlocked in two places. My eyes track frantically, looking for any other option when they hit the faintest green glow where dust and more spiderwebs and a collapsed ladder partially obscure an exit sign. Thankfully, even the shittiest structure is built with concerns about potential fires.
“Go on, Lo,” Benny says, sounding unnaturally cheerful for a guy nuts-deep in a fist fight. “I’ll catch up.”
Awesome.
Still clutching Jess, I shove the ladder out of the way and put my hip to the door as hard as I can. It gives with a rusty screech, dumping us out on a loading dock on the back side of the building. I don’t know what the plan would have been if the door had been locked, and I don’t care. There’s no thought left for anything save getting Jess back to the Zenvo and as far away from here as possible. She’s wheezing, a horrible wet sucking kind of noise that indicates her lungs are full of fluid even before the tiny red bubbles start forming on her lips.
“Hold on, Jess. I’ve got you.”
And it’s a good damn thing she’s as petite as she is, because I’m half-carrying, half-dragging her now. By the time we hit the corner of the building, her head is lolling against my shoulder. Without warning, she stiffens and shrieks right into my ear. It’s the straw that breaks this camel’s back, and both of us go down a full block from the Zenvo. Jess’s eyes roll back, and it’s all I can do to hitch her up in my arms.
“Jess.” I shake her, but her head only falls to the side, long dark curls matted with blood that looks black in the streetlights. “Jess, you have to wake up.”
Headlights cut across us. A second later, Asher’s Humvee screeches to a stop in the gutter, and the boys bail out.
“They tried to turn her,” I yell before they can ask. “She’s bleeding out.”
Asher puts on the brakes and doubles back to the trunk. “Where are the kidnappers?”
“Two piles of dust inside the building, plus the guy I told you about before. Last time I saw him, he was fighting with my stalker.”
Then it’s Xaine’s turn to skid to a halt. “So Benicio did follow you here?”
Before I can answer, he turns and follows Asher. There’s a brief, muttered conversation, then Xaine comes at me with a small medical kit and Asher’s off and running with a bow slung over his back and a UV pistol in each hand. Eerie to watch a guy that big move without making a noise, but he manages it, heading straight for the fire exit. Hope like hell that he remembers not to let Benny make contact; the last thing we need right now is a doped-up commando.
Xaine lands on his knees next to me, cracking open the box and rummaging around until he finds a silver case. It holds what looks like an EpiPen, or it would, if it didn’t have the words “Property of CasDec” and “Prototype” stamped all over it. He wrangles it out of its protective plastic even as he checks Jess for a pulse.
“Is she—” I start to ask.
“It’s happening fast. Too fucking fast.” He cracks open one of her eyes and gets a good look at the crimson of her irises. “Fucking A, Cas, I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Without another word, Xaine hikes up Jess’s skirt and jams the needle into her leg. Holding my breath, I wait for any kind of response. I don’t know what he gave her, but I’m sure as hell not expecting her to turn her head to the side and cough blood all over the sidewalk. Every muscle in Jess’s body constricts, and liquid spatters the concrete and a nearby chain link fence. It’s like a horror movie, looping over and over until she coughs one last time and her body goes lax. She’s still breathing too quick, pulse thudding too fast, but those issues seem minor in comparison to what just happened.
“What the fucking fuck.” Xaine seems more horrified by whatever was in that tube than the fact my roommate coughed up three quarts of crimson all over the sidewalk.
“What is it?” I ask. “What’d you give her?”
Xaine’s quiet for a long moment, staring at the cylinder he’s holding. Then he’s up, spinning in a circle, and I catch a softly mutter
ed “sonovabitch” before he hurls the injector pen against the fence and shouts, “Sonovabitch!”
“Xaine—”
“He fucking did it. Just two hundred fucking years too late.” There’s a wealth of unspoken sentiment in that simple proclamation.
“Are you…” I start to say, but find myself rephrasing. “Did he find a cure?”
Somewhere around the corner, there’s the sound of an engine turning over, rubber spinning against asphalt, tires spraying gravel as a vehicle speeds away. Xaine kneels next to Jess, pulling back her eyelid even as she swats him away with a muttered, “Don’t touch me, pinche.”
“No,” he tells me, shaking his head. “Not a cure. He’d be selling it otherwise, but maybe… an emergency injection. If you can catch it before it takes hold.”
“So, she’ll be all right?”
“She’ll be fine,” Asher cuts in, heading toward us with that purposeful walk I’m getting to know so well. He stoops down and hefts Jess up in his arms, carrying her toward the black Humvee like she weighs nothing. “I’ll get her to the hospital. I want you two at the mansion. I’ll send a team to run security until we track down these assholes.”
“What, you didn’t take care of them?” Xaine reaches down and hauls me to my feet, scowling as he digs in my skirt pocket for the Zenvo’s keys. “What the hell good are you, Boy Wonder?”
“The guy with the piercings cleared out as I went in. Left Benicio standing there holding his nuts and the hubcap he was using to beat the other dude’s face in.” Asher fastens Jess’s seatbelt and slams the passenger door shut, then circles around to the driver’s side. “Benny’s definitely a sin-eater, but the other one is… something else. And not a vampire, either, or he’d be dust like the other two.”
“Wait!” I take a step toward the Humvee as he clambers in. “I’ll come with you.”
“Like hell,” Xaine protests even as Asher shakes his head.
“I’ve got this,” he said. “If you’re there, you’re a target, and I don’t need the distraction.”
“Way to make a girl feel special,” I mutter, touching my hand to the window. Jess is curled in on herself, but breathing normally now, and I have to trust that Asher’s the capable guy I take him for. “Don’t fuck it up, Flipper, ’kay?”
Lost Angeles Page 18
