Along Came a Spider tt-3

by Kate Serine

  If he had been a Tale, such an opening would’ve resulted in Ian spilling his guts in a grand soliloquy. Tale villains really just can’t help themselves. It’s a compulsion. They have to gloat about their plans, hold it over the heroine’s head, thereby providing valuable time to come up with a way for said heroine to take them down in an exciting climax. I guess it’s true what they say: You can take the Tale out of Make Believe, but you can’t take Make Believe out of the Tale. I just hoped Ian was arrogant enough to fall into the same trap.

  Ian’s lips curved into a grin. “You’re right,” he said, nodding. “Why screw around? We’ve known all along that Dracula was attempting to contact Tess Little—”

  They did?

  “—but it was a bit of a surprise when he switched things up and started contacting you.”

  “Yeah, it was to me, too,” I admitted, not seeing any point in denying what Ian already knew. “How’d you find out?”

  Ian’s smile grew, reminding me of the grin Nicky often wore when conducting business. But Ian’s wasn’t nearly so charming—and was twice as deadly. Nicky’s smile had a conscience. Ian’s . . . well, he’d proven over and over that he had no inner Jiminy Cricket. “It seems starving a vampire has some unintended consequences. Makes them bat-shit crazy, as it turns out.” He chuckled at his pun. “We were hoping only to control him, keep him weak enough not to try to escape again. We never expected him to spill his guts in those rants of his.”

  I stared at Ian, my mind racing. They actually had Dracula in custody? All this time we’d been operating under the assumption that Dracula was roaming free, that the vampires Nicky had taken down were somehow his creations meant to exact revenge against the FMA and create the army of undead he needed to claim the power he so desperately sought. God—how wrong we’d been. I swallowed hard, trying to figure out how to play the situation with Ian without letting on that he’d just totally blindsided me. Luckily, for an Ordinary, he was surprisingly forthcoming with the info. Sweet.

  “So, how long has Dracula been here?” I asked, keeping my voice even to appear unimpressed with his revelations.

  Ian shrugged. “Two years? It was right after the thing with Sebille Fenwick. Happened to catch him off-guard when he was feeding on some whore in an alley. Total fluke. Right place, right time, and all that. Lost two agents trying to take him down, but it was worth it.”

  So, they finally had captured themselves a Tale. . . . And not just any Tale—an extremely powerful Tale with the kinds of abilities they’d been dying to carve up and study for decades. I hated to think what they might’ve discovered about our kind in the last couple of years. “When did you realize he was trying to contact someone on the outside?”

  “Soon after he turned the first person,” Ian admitted. “It only took a few weeks to starve him into submission. Unfortunately, he was so ravenous when we finally fed him that he drained dry the first woman we gave him, so we sent in another one. He didn’t kill her, but drained her enough that she was near death. And then he gave her his blood before we could stop him.”

  Holy shit. So he had been behind the vamps. . . .

  “What happened to her?”

  “She was useful. For a while, anyway. But being a one-off, she wasn’t as easy to control. We had . . . issues. And that bastard the Spider ended up taking her out before we could bring her back in. Did us a favor, really. But the rest of the ones he killed? Well, we didn’t appreciate that so much.”

  “A one-off?” I repeated. “What do you mean by that?”

  “They were human—well, Ordinaries, to you,” Ian explained, brushing the leg of his trousers as if he was bored out of his mind. “Our attempts to make Dracula turn a Tale were . . . unsuccessful.”

  I blinked at him in dismay. “How many?” I demanded, my throat tight. “How many Tales have you killed in this twisted little experiment of yours?”

  Ian tilted his eyes up to the ceiling, mulling over my question. “Oh, perhaps a dozen? Maybe more.” He chuckled. “I really can’t say. We had to dump the bodies quickly before Nate Grimm showed up to collect them. But don’t worry—for the most part, the Tales we chose were nobodies, nameless characters from literature, generalizations and archetypes from mythology. I doubt their deaths even made the Tale newspaper.”

  “They were still people, you son of a bitch!” I hurled at him, advancing a few angry steps, my fists balled up at my sides to keep from beating the arrogant indifference off his face.

  But if Ian was intimidated, he didn’t let on. “We’re supposed to be having a civilized conversation, remember?” he smirked. “Don’t make me resort to more aggressive methods.” When I frowned at him, not understanding, he motioned to the sprinkler system. “Holy water. We’ve found it works quite well when our vamps get out of hand. I’d hate to have to give you a little demonstration.”

  I almost laughed at the absurdity of his threat, but then I realized he wasn’t joking. He actually thought that I was a vampire. That must’ve been why he was so wary at the crash site and why he kept his distance now. I certainly couldn’t explain what had happened after the accident, how I’d been briefly endowed with superhuman strength, but I sure as hell wasn’t a vampire. But, hey, if the rep gave me an edge, I’d roll with it.

  I glanced at the ceiling, trying to appear worried. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

  “You always were a bright girl,” Ian drawled. “I almost regret the way things turned out between us, Trish.”

  “Yeah, well,” I drawled, “guess you’ll just have to live with the disappointment.”

  “Not for much longer,” he assured me. At this he rose from his chair and strolled toward me. “I’m tired of dicking around, Trish,” he snapped, walking a slow circle around me, his leisurely pace a direct contradiction to his dangerous tone. “So, let’s try this again. How the hell did Dracula turn you from here in his cell? And when? Ordinaries turn within minutes—is it different with the Tales? Your abilities don’t seem to be fully functional yet.”

  “A few days ago,” I told him, thinking of the night Amanda had attacked me and of my dream of the attack from Dracula that had left me with actual puncture wounds in my neck. I’d chalked it up to psychosomatic symptoms from the very vivid dream, but as I sat there staring at Ian’s eager face, I began to wonder if perhaps there wasn’t something to his theory.

  Did Dracula have to be present to infect another Tale? Hell, we hadn’t thought he could turn anyone at all, but he’d obviously created a shitload of Ordinary vamps for the Agency to play with, so was it really out of the realm of possibility that he’d be able to send out a piece of himself—his soul? his psyche?—to attack me that night? As Lavender had once told me, “We’re fairytales who were magically transported to the mortal world. Call me crazy, but I’m pretty sure anything’s possible at this point.”

  “Extraordinary,” Ian mused, shaking his head as he came to a halt directly in front of me. “Why you? Why did it finally work on you? Was it because he did it remotely? Is that the secret?”

  It was at that moment a blur of motion behind Ian caught my eye. I glanced toward it, and had to cover a gasp with a cough when I caught sight of the phantom in the mirror.

  Amanda.

  “Lucky girl, I guess,” I muttered, trying to watch her movements without Ian noticing.

  She gave me a wicked grin as she strolled the length of the mirror, her fingertips passing along the back of Ian’s shoulders. He shuddered a little, feeling her touch as only a shiver down his spine.

  With a wink, she transformed herself into a cloud of mist and when it solidified again, where she had been Dracula now stood. I started to cry out, but he held a finger to his lips with a silent giggle as if we were sharing a hilarious joke. And when I blinked, Dracula was gone and Amanda was in his place.

  Holy shit!

  Suddenly everything began to fall into place. It had never actually been Dracula stalking me, attacking me. It had always been his pha
ntom lover, masquerading as the notorious vampire, drawing me closer, forcing me to track down the man being held captive in the Agency’s dungeons. Christ. It all made sense now. I forced my eyes back to Ian, trying to focus on what he was saying.

  “—under observation for the next few days and see what happens.”

  “Sorry—what?” I gave myself a mental shake. “Put who under observation?”

  “You and Dracula,” Ian said on a huff as if repeating himself was beyond tedious. “I’d like to see how he reacts to having his favorite plaything right here with him.”

  My legs finally felt steady enough to push to my feet. “Didn’t you just tell me that he’d killed his other ‘playthings’?” I asked, giving him the finger quote treatment.

  Ian laughed, looking at me like I was a first-class idiot. “Trish, the purpose of my job is to observe and understand supernatural beings in our world so that we can keep them under control—and, more importantly, use their abilities to protect the good citizens of our fine nation. Do you really think I give a shit if you live or die if it means figuring out how to safely create our own vampire army? Can you imagine the possibilities?”

  I gaped at him in disbelief. Hell, yeah, I could imagine the possibilities. And now their fairy dust thefts made sense, too. They weren’t just experimenting on humans to determine the drug’s effects; they needed the fairy dust to control the volatile, bloodthirsty creatures they were creating.

  “You have no idea what you’re screwing with, Ian,” I told him. “We spend years rehabilitating our vamps to keep them from losing control. Ours aren’t like the ones you’ve dealt with in the Here and Now.”

  Ian’s omnipresent smirk grew. “Well, we’ll soon find out just how different they are, won’t we?”

  I felt Amanda suddenly appear at my side. “You must get to Vlad,” she whispered, her icy breath crystalizing on the edges of my ear. “You are the only one who can help him.”

  My mind was pinging around like a pinball, rapidly going over my options, trying to figure out just how in the hell I was supposed to help a feral vampire being held captive in a government installation, rescue my lover who was God knew where, and—oh, yeah—somehow manage to avoid getting myself killed in the process.

  “I want to see Nicky,” I barked at Ian, going with the most important one first. When he looked like he might protest, I growled, “Right. Fucking. Now. Or this conversation is over, Ian—holy water sprinklers or not.”

  With an irritated sigh, Ian motioned toward the two-way mirror behind him. A moment later, the heavy steel door creaked open and Freddy the Ferret appeared in the doorway, his rat face twisted into a grotesque smirk. Then he stepped aside and another familiar face appeared, making my stomach drop so suddenly, I thought I was going to yack right there on the concrete floor. Alex McCain dragged Nicky into the room.

  Nicky’s hair was matted with blood, but thankfully his head wound had healed. His wrists were bound behind his back with heavy shackles, so he must’ve recovered enough of his strength to give them a hard time. But he still looked like shit. And based on the smug expression on McCain’s face, I had a feeling the Enforcer had played a hand in keeping him that way.

  “You fucking prick,” I ground out. “You lying, traitorous bastard!”

  Alex met my gaze briefly, then gave Nicky a hard shove, sending him sprawling onto the concrete.

  With a strangled cry, I scrambled over to Nicky on my hands and knees, helping him to his knees and wrapping my arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly.

  “It’s all right, doll,” he murmured into the curve of my neck. “I’ve got you.”

  I chuckled in spite of the tears pricking at my eyes. Leave it to Nicky to kneel there, bloody and bruised, shackled so he couldn’t fight back, and assure me that everything was going to be okay. I took his face in my hands and kissed him hard—twice—before two of Ian’s goons grabbed Nicky’s arms and jerked him to his feet.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I cried. Without thinking, I rushed the first guy and tackled him to the ground so hard, Nicky and the other agent nearly pulled a Jack-and-Jill and came tumbling after.

  The next thing I knew, I had three agents trying to pin me down, but there was no way in hell I was going to let them drug me up again. I kicked and swung savagely, my blows landing solidly if the sounds of their juicy curses and groans of pain were any indication.

  “Trish!” Nicky’s voice cut around my stream of profanity.

  My head came up just in time to see Freddy the Ferret swinging a nightstick down toward my head. I brought up my left forearm, blocking his arm, then drove my fist into his solar plexus. As the air shot out of his lungs he gasped and stumbled backward, grasping at his chest.

  “Enough!” Ian roared. McCain started for me, but Nicky bum-rushed him, knocking him on his ass. “I said enough, goddamn it!”

  Ian shook his head in disgust. “My apologies, Trish,” he said with a politeness I saw through in a fairytale minute. “My men seem to have experienced a troubling lapse in manners. You’re our guest here, after all. Isn’t that right, Freddy?”

  Freddy just glared at me with murder in his eyes. Yeah, well, I had news for the little bastard—two could play that game. And the look I sent back made it clear he’d better hope no one left him in a room with me or the shit was gonna get real. I glanced to where McCain was picking himself up off the ground. And that asshole was next.

  “As you see, I’ve not harmed your lover,” Ian said, clasping his hands behind his back. “However, I’m afraid that thanks to this little altercation there might be some hard feelings that could impede our discussions. How regrettable.” He sighed theatrically and motioned to his men. “Please escort Mr. Blue out so that Trish and I may continue our conversation.”

  “No!” I rushed to Nicky, reaching him before any of the agents worked up the courage to get in my way. I grabbed the lapels of Nicky’s jacket and ground out through clenched teeth, “I’m not letting them take you away from here.”

  Nicky shrugged and forced a grin. “Forget about it. I’m sure it’s nothin’.” He turned his gaze on Ian. “I’ll just go hang out in the other room. Right?”

  “Of course,” Ian said too quickly.

  Nicky winked at me. “See? It’s all good.”

  I knew it was bullshit. And Nicky knew it, too. They’d let him live to prove Ian had kept his word. And they’d keep him alive for probably a little while longer, just in case they needed to use him against me. But then all bets were off. We were both living on borrowed time and we knew it.

  “I love you, doll,” Nicky assured me as McCain and Freddy dragged him toward the door. “Always have. Always will.”

  My fear choked me, making it impossible to respond. And the ominous thud of the steel door slamming felt like someone had just closed my coffin lid. I needed help if any of us had a chance of getting out of there. And at the moment, the only person I had on my side was the ghost of a dead Ordinary.

  I was so screwed. Unless—

  “Now, where were we?” Ian asked, assuming that infuriatingly smug nonchalance.

  “You were about to take me to Dracula,” I reminded him, a plan—albeit a seriously fucked-up plan—beginning to form. “Might as well get on with it.”

  Amanda’s spirit sent me a look of such gratitude and relief, it was a little heartbreaking. Even in the afterlife she still had it bad for the vampire who’d ended her life. Talk about a dysfunctional relationship. . . .

  The two agents who had remained in the room—the better to glare daggers at me, from the looks of things—came forward with a pair of wicked-looking iron shackles in hand.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I snapped, pulling my hands back before they could slap them on. “Not without Nicky. You don’t have to shackle me.” When Ian’s eyes narrowed at me, I added, “Besides, I need to use the restroom.”

  The men frowned with such identical scowls it would’ve been comical had it been in a diffe
rent context. “Pardon?” Ian asked. “Now?”

  “When you gotta go, you gotta go,” I insisted.

  He sighed and mumbled something indecipherable about women under his breath but gave one of the agents a nod. All three of them escorted me from the room to a door down the hall. The biggest one, whose nose was still bleeding from the earlier smack-down I’d doled out, opened the door and took a quick look inside. I don’t know what he expected to find. It’s not like I was planning to come out swinging with the plunger. And no matter what the martial arts films would have you believe, I had serious doubts that I could lob the Glade Plug In effectively enough to knock out all three of them. Although they might smell nicer.

  “Make it quick,” Ian ordered.

  I was relieved to see the restroom was little more than a closet with a toilet and sink and—thank God!—a mirror.

  “What are you doing?” Amanda hissed, having joined me. “You’re wasting time!”

  I shook my head, frowning, and held a finger to my lips. “I can’t go with you guys listening!” I called out.

  “Then run some water or something!” Ian snapped.

  Perfect. So far, so good. . . .

  I turned on the faucet and prayed the water would actually be hot. Fate was smiling down on me, apparently, as the water was generating steam in seconds. Between Amanda’s spirit making the air even colder than normal and the heat of the water, the mirror began to fog up exactly as I’d hoped. I whispered the words Lavender had taught me and sent the call out to the universe, praying like hell it would be heard.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  We were underground. Had to be. We’d traveled down several floors in the elevator before finally coming to a stop, and when the doors slid open, we stepped into a hallway made of thick layers of concrete; bare lightbulbs lined the ceiling in evenly spaced intervals. It looked more like a bunker than a prison.

  “You’ve been keeping him down here the entire time?” I asked, glancing toward the doors we passed, wondering who or what was trapped behind them. Angry hisses greeted us as we walked by each of the doors, and I swore I heard dark, sinister laughter beneath the feral susurration.