by Kate Serine
“A great injustice,” Nicky said, shaking his head. “You were intended for a life of ease, not working in a place like this.”
“Exactly so.” She glared at us for a moment, then stepped back, opening the door wide. “I suppose I can let you in for a little while. Just don’t upset any of the inmates.”
“We only need to see one of them,” Nicky assured her. “Renfield.”
Her brows shot up. “That man is completely deranged. Why would you want to see him?”
“I’m sorry, but that’s classified,” I told her. “Just tell us where he is and we’ll find our way.”
“Third floor,” she spat, obviously not as impressed with me as she was with Nicky. “Cell forty-two.”
“Insufferable woman,” I muttered as we trudged up the stairs to the upper levels. “How dare she call the patients here monsters? Only some of them are completely beyond help. If anyone’s a monster it’s that detestable woman. The way she treated Jane Eyre . . . How could you possibly be polite to that harpy?”
“I’ve had to be polite to a lot of assholes over the years, doll,” Nicky said. “It makes my ass twitch every single time. But if you want to get anywhere, you sometimes have to dance with the devil.”
We were silent as we navigated the dim, clinically sparse halls of the Asylum. The dirty light cast by the bare bulbs spaced in even intervals along the ceiling cast dark shadows, creating corners that weren’t there and bathing the passageway in an eerie, murky glow. I edged a little closer to Nicky and he reached for my hand, clasping it tightly in his.
There were unintelligible mumblings floating toward us and beneath the static of voices I heard a woman keening in sorrow, another weeping, punctuating her grief with sharp yowls that made me start each time her mournful screech split the air.
Nicky’s fingers tightened around mine. “Here’s forty-two,” he said, jerking his chin toward the number hanging over a heavy steel door with a barred window.
I nodded. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”
Nicky blew out a sharp breath, then slid the blind to the left and peered through the bars. “Renfield.” There was a scrabble of movement inside but no response. “Renfield, we want to talk to you.”
We waited in tense silence, listening for any response. Suddenly a face appeared at the bars, making Nicky jump, which startled a little yelp out of me. I clutched at his arm, my heart racing.
The grimy face before us twisted into a grotesque smile, revealing filthy, rotting teeth. He chuckled, the sound as harsh as sandpaper. “Have come to visit me, have you?” he rasped. “Come to talk to the freak?”
“We need to know about Dracula,” Nicky said, cutting to the chase. “We need to know where he is, what he’s planning.”
Renfield chuckled again. “You won’t find the master,” he assured us. “Not until he wants to be found. And then he’ll find you.” He looked pointedly at me. “But you already know that, don’t you?”
Renfield suddenly darted to one side and there was a soft shuffling inside the cell. A moment later he reappeared, chewing on something crunchy. His eyes rolled back into his head as his lids fluttered shut, and he moaned with ecstasy. “The blood is the life,” he murmured. “The blood is the life. . . .”
I gagged a little, trying in vain not to imagine what manner of creature Renfield had just ingested. I’d read his story and knew his obsession with consuming insects and whatever else he could get his hands on in the assumption that it would make him stronger, grant him a measure of immortality.
“Renfield,” Nicky said, “could you tell us what you know about Dracula? Has he communicated with you lately?”
“He has promised me life!” Renfield rasped, grasping the bars of his cell. “He will come for me when he is ready for me to do his bidding and free me from this damnable place! And he will make me an immortal with his blood. He has told me so!”
“He can’t make you any more immortal than you already are,” I told him. “We’re Tales, Renfield—we don’t age here. We don’t die except under very extreme circumstances.”
Renfield blinked at me, his unfocused gaze suddenly becoming laser sharp. “You are wrong, pretty girl. The master can make me stronger, can teach me the ways to find the blood that gives life. He has promised it.”
“When did he tell you that?” I asked, beginning to wonder if Renfield even realized he was no longer trapped within the pages of his story. It was possible he could no longer differentiate between what had occurred in his novel and what had taken place since coming over.
Renfield ignored the question and instead looked me over, his head cocked to one side as he studied me. “You remind me of her,” he said. “That Mrs. Harker who came to see me once. You do not resemble her—no, no. Not in that way. But you have a sweet face, a beautiful face. And you, too, have heard his voice, haven’t you?”
My blood ran cold at his words. “Yes. I’ve heard it.”
Renfield shook his head. “A pity, madam. He will never let you go once you’ve heard his voice in your head. I have heard it, you know. Have heard it howling on the winds that seep through the cracks of this very building. Have heard it in the stillness of the shadows. He draws ever closer. And soon he will come for me. As he will come for you, too.”
Nicky bristled at my side and pulled me a little behind him, shielding me from Renfield’s view. “Talk to me, you lunatic.”
Renfield’s eyes trained on Nicky now. “You come to me, demanding answers, but you ask the wrong questions, sir. You have not asked me what it is you truly need to know.”
“And what’s that?” Nicky demanded.
Renfield’s parched lips spread into another grotesque smile, his skin cracking and beginning to bleed. “Ah, but you bring me no gifts to tempt me to answer. I have asked over and over for a little kitten to love and care for, but I have received none. Am I to be denied even an ounce of affection?”
“You’d just eat it, you sick son of a bitch,” Nicky replied.
Renfield sighed dramatically. “Such is my existence. I am misunderstood, madam. Do you not see that?”
I edged out from behind Nicky and approached the door. “I can’t offer you anything, Renfield,” I admitted. “But will you tell me what it is you know about your master and his plans? I’m afraid lives depend upon it. Perhaps even mine.”
He beckoned me closer, glancing from side to side as if he expected someone to suddenly appear inside his cell. I took a cautious step forward, shaking off Nicky’s restraining hand. Renfield beckoned again, more urgently this time.
“Give me your hand, pretty lady,” he demanded.
I lifted my hand, but Nicky grabbed my arm. “Trish—”
I shook my head at him. “It’s fine.” I slipped my fingers through the space between the bars.
Renfield grasped them with a lascivious little gasp and began stroking them with his own filthy fingers. I resisted the urge to recoil from his touch, determined to see where this would go.
“Such lovely fingers,” he murmured. “I can hear the blood coursing through your veins. Little rivers of power and vitality. So much life . . .” To my horror, he closed those disgusting lips around my index finger and sucked in one long motion, his tongue savoring the taste.
“Jesus Christ,” Nicky spat, balling his hands into fists, straining to keep from bolting forward and tearing my hand from Renfield’s grasp.
But I shushed him. “What do you have to tell me, Renfield?” I ground out, swallowing the bile in my throat. “Please, I must know what your master has told you.”
He pulled my finger from his mouth with a little pop. “You already know what I know,” he said, leering at me. “You’ve tasted the master’s blood. And he has tasted yours.”
I shook my head. “No. That’s not true.”
He chuckled. “Oh, but it is. You’ve felt his bite. You have his mark upon you.”
“That was a dream,” I insisted. “The mark I had has faded. It was probably
just psychosomatic.”
Renfield went back to stroking my fingers, his eyes taking on a disturbingly hungry look. “So you say . . . but you’ve tasted of him, madam,” he assured me. “You took his blood into you, have brought part of him into your body.” His grasp on my hand suddenly tightened to the point of pain and he jerked me forward, knocking me off balance. When I fell against the door, he grasped a handful of my hair. Nicky bolted forward in an instant, working to pry the man’s fingers loose.
“Do not deny him!” Renfield shouted. “Do not deny him, madam! He is the giver of life. The blood is the life! The blood is the life!”
Nicky finally managed to free me and jerked me out of Renfield’s reach. “Are you all right?” he asked, his brow furrowed with concern.
I nodded, my eyes still on Renfield, who was sobbing hysterically now. “She doesn’t listen!” he whimpered. “She denies you, master! Leave her in peace, I beg you! Leave her be!”
I began to tremble as his deranged wailings continued. “Renfield—”
He lunged at the bars again, clinging to them and pressing his face against the iron until for one crazy moment I thought his head might actually squeeze between them. “What the master wants the master gets. He will not be denied, madam. The red one he loved denied him and he went mad with grief. And now he will seek revenge upon you all! You will be sorry you denied the life giver! Flee now while you can! Flee! Fly like the sparrows I would consume for the life they give. I pray I never see your sweet face again, madam!”
“What revenge?” I demanded. “What is he planning to do, Renfield? You must tell me if you want me to be safe.”
He shook his head, his tears leaving streaks on his grimy cheeks. “You are lost, madam,” he sobbed. “Lost!” Then he stabbed Nicky with an accusing glare. “This is your fault, sir! You brought this sentence upon her head.”
When Nicky didn’t immediately respond to refute the nonsense Renfield was spewing, I glanced over at him, startled to see that he had gone pale, a tense expression of concern furrowing his brow. “Nicky?” I whispered, placing a hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”
“You, who call yourself the Spider,” Renfield raged on, his face twisting in disgust. “You slink along in the shadows, chasing the master and trying to destroy what he has built. But the master has told me all about you—you are no spider! You do not consume the blood that is life! You only take, take, take until the blood flows—wasted—on the ground! He would’ve left her alone if you had not interfered, but he saw what was in your heart! And he will rip it from your chest, sir. He will devour it before your eyes and revel in your horror and sorrow as he has before!”
“You, there!”
Nicky and I glanced up at the man in scrubs who was jogging down the hall toward us. “What the hell are you doing here after hours? You’re riling up the patients.”
Nicky took my hand and made for the stairs, shouldering past the orderly. “We were just leaving.”
We bolted down the stairs, Nicky fairly dragging me after him. “Nicky!” I gasped, out of breath from our mad dash. “Stop!”
“I’m getting you the hell out of here,” he mumbled, pulling me out the front door and shoving me into the waiting Escalade. When he got behind the wheel, he sat there for a full five minutes, hands grasping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white.
I sat in silence, waiting for him to explain what had just happened, but his frown only seemed to deepen. Finally, I couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “Nicky, honey, are you okay?”
He started at the sound of my voice, then threw the SUV in gear and stomped on the accelerator, not so much as glancing my way as he sped back toward Chicago. I waited until we were on the interstate and his shoulders started to relax a little before I said, “So, what was that all about?”
He shrugged. “Renfield’s a fucking lunatic. Who knows what the hell he was talking about?”
“Well,” I said, “considering you bolted out of there like your hair was on fire and your ass was catching, I’m guessing you do.”
Nicky’s jaw twitched as he ground his teeth. “Trish—”
“Don’t even finish that sentence,” I interrupted. “I can tell by the tone of your voice that you’re about to give me a load of bullshit. I’m not about to just turn a blind eye to what’s going on, Nicky. There’s more to the story than you’ve told me. So you either spill it right now, or you can drop me off at my apartment and bring me my cat. We’re done.”
It pained me to have to draw such a hard line, but I’d seen just how smooth and charming Nicky could be. And he sure as hell had proven he could charm the pants off me. I wasn’t about to fall for his bullshit and pretend everything was hunky-dory. He’d pulled that with his wife and I’d seen where it had gotten them—even if he didn’t.
He heaved a resigned sigh and cast a glance my way, looking at me for the first time since we’d left the Asylum. Then something in his expression changed dramatically. It fell. The strength and devil-may-care defiance I’d seen there from the moment I’d met him vanished, and he suddenly looked . . . scared.
“Nicky, what is it?” I asked, my tone gentle now.
He reached for my hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to my fingertips. “I never meant to involve you in this. I just wanted . . .” He shook his head.
“Nicky, whatever it is, you can tell me,” I assured him.
He remained silent for so long, letting my words hang in the air, that I’d begun to believe our conversation was over. But when he took the exit for his house, he finally said, “Dracula came to visit me when I was in the hospital.”
Chapter Seventeen
I blinked at him in disbelief. “What? With everyone looking for him, he had the balls to come see you?”
“At first I thought I’d imagined it,” Nicky admitted. “I mean, I was half dead, lying there in the hospital bed pumped full of fairy dust to keep me calm so I could heal, and he just showed up at the side of my bed. And he was grinning. That motherfucking bastard was grinning.”
“Oh, Nicky . . .” I put my hand on his thigh, and his fingers found mine, giving my hand a squeeze. “What did he want?”
“He wanted to gloat,” Nicky ground out. “He and I had been vying for some of the same business interests. When I helped Red track down the information she needed, it gave Dracula the excuse he needed to order Sebille to take me down. Well, we know how that turned out.”
I wanted to tell him that he didn’t quite know as much as he thought he did, but I bit back my words. “Did he try to hurt you?” I asked, my protective instincts for the man I loved making my words come out more harshly than I’d intended.
Nicky grinned and reached over to cup my cheek for a moment. “No, doll—not physically. He wanted to drive the point home that he could take away anything or anyone I cared about. The bastard got down in my face and told me all about what he planned to do to Red once he had her in his clutches, once he’d finished playing their little game. And he told me there was nothing I could do to stop him.”
“Was that why you left town so abruptly?” I asked.
He nodded. “I wasn’t about to let him hurt anyone else I cared about. I was determined to take him out or die trying. I left a note for Red and stayed away. A few days after I left, though, I contacted Nate to let him know what was doin’ so he could protect Red. That was the last time I made contact.”
“I’m guessing that’s when Nate came to me and asked me to hide any leads from Tess,” I mused, going over the time line of events in my head.
Nicky nodded. “Probably so.”
I frowned at him. “And then what?” When he didn’t respond, I added, “Because, as infuriating and frightening as Dracula’s hospital visit must’ve been, I’m guessing that’s not everything that transpired.”
“No. Not everything.” He lapsed into silence again, his lips pressed together in a grim line. I waited patiently to hear more, not wanting to rush h
im but not about to let him off the hook that easily. My gaze on him was so intent that I didn’t notice he’d pulled off the main road and onto a gravel access road until the Escalade slid a little on the ice, slamming me into the door when the back end fishtailed.
“Where are we going?” I asked, glancing around us.
“I’m taking you in the delivery entrance,” he answered. “I don’t want to go in the front door in case Lavender’s spell isn’t up and running yet.”
I glanced around us, my eyes searching the dark woods that lined the road, half expecting something to come charging out at us. Being on the access road made me one hell of a lot more nervous than walking through the front door. Unless . . . “Do you know something I don’t?”
Nicky glanced in the rearview mirror. “Someone was following us after we left the Asylum,” he divulged. “I think I lost him a few miles back. But it’s not like where I live is a secret, and seeing as how your FMA pals fucked up my gates getting to me earlier today, I’m not taking any chances on someone camping out in the front yard, waiting to have another go.”
As he pulled into a circular drive behind his mansion, I turned in my seat to pin him with an expectant look. “Okay, so, do I get to hear the rest of the story now that we’re safely at home?” My eyes widened when I realized what I’d said and quickly amended, “I mean, now that we’re at your house. Sorry.”
Nicky’s lips twitched at the corners and he leaned over to give me a quick kiss that rapidly turned into a slow one. When he finally pulled back, he was grinning. “I like the thought of you calling this place home.”
My stomach fluttered with joy and I wanted nothing more than to drag him back to me for another kiss, but I leveled my gaze at him instead. “You’re changing the subject, Nicky Blue.”
Miffed at being called out, he shoved open the car door and reached under his seat, pulling out a Glock and keeping it down by his side as he came around to the other side of the SUV to help me out. As he led me to the door, his eyes scanned the darkness, searching for any movement.
