Sucked In

by Charissa Dufour

Chapter Forty-Four

  I awoke.

  It was a surprise. I hadn't really expected to wake up.

  The room had transformed, to say the least. Those who had been standing by, watching me die, were fighting for their lives against an army swarming in through the main doors. I quickly spotted Samuel grappling with Isaac. It looked strange to see a gray-haired man wrestle with a young man in his prime, but Samuel was winning. I was pretty sure Samuel was the elder of the two.

  Just to the left, Mikhail and a vamp I didn't recognize were tearing the head off one of Richard's thugs. I recognized other members of Mikhail's seethe fighting to the death.

  In the center stood a man I had never seen before. And boy, would I remember him. He was above average in height but had a fairly slim build. That was all I could see of his physique past the dark blue cloak accented with gold circles. What stood out about him was his ability to fling bolts of blue energy at my friends—well, I should say at those that weren't my enemies. His very presence demanded attention, and that thought gave suggestion to who he might be. The warlock. That one whose existence required my death.

  Only I wasn't dead, and he was most definitely alive.

  Before I could further contemplate the strangeness of it all, a pounding heartbeat accosted my ears. I didn't stop to think. I was too thirsty, too damaged to have any sort of self-control. Of course, that was just an excuse and a pretty flimsy one at that.

  I flung my legs forward, snaring one of Richard's human servants, dragging them close enough to bite. With my legs wrapped around their waist, I managed to clamp my mouth over their shoulder. My sharp teeth pricked their skin and I drank deeply. When the blood ran out, I unwound my legs and let the body drop to the floor with a heavy thud. It took a while since I had not managed to find the main artery. When it was finally over, I began scanning the crowd for another heartbeat.

  But one face stood out from the crowd, capturing my attention.

  Of course, the smell of the blood slowly dribbling from a blood bag helped. Nik stood, his expression a mixture of regret and relief. I licked my lips, tasting the salty, sweet liquid. I wiped my face as best I could on my arm—still tied above my head. Nik dropped the bag and moved to my side, an industrial size knife in his hand. He reached up and deftly cut the thick rope that attached me to the ceiling. I collapsed in his arms. He dropped the knife and pulled me into a fireman's carry.

  “No,” I said with difficulty, the gash on my neck allowing air to escape where it shouldn’t. “We have to stop him.” Though that was the main reason I didn't want to go with Nik, there was another—a distrust I couldn't completely explain.

  “Silence,” he hissed. From my position hanging from his shoulder, I could see the battle continuing. I could also see my blood trickling down his back. There was Josh, looking so small beside the others. He had disengaged from the fight, by staking his enemy, when he noticed us nearing the door, and followed. We had just reached the wide steps leading up to the double doors when a small group of Richard's men stepped in our way.

  Nik slowly lowered me to the ground. I couldn't see what was happening above their knees, but I knew we weren't out of the fight. Not by a long shot. Nik lunged forward, shortly followed by Josh's smaller feet, garbed in Chuck Taylors with Peanuts cartoons on them. Their feet and those of the enemy danced around, narrowly missing my body. I tried to squirm away. After about six inches I gave up and let myself give in to the misery.

  As I lay there, I noticed the growing swath of blood staining the concrete. Though I was healing, it was barely noticeable, and it seemed to be entirely focused on the gash across my throat, as though my body was prioritizing. No wonder I was so weak.

  Before I could figure out what to do about it, a foot tripped over my leg. I looked up to see a boy, barely the age of a high schooler. He stumbled to his knees and scrambled away.

  I rolled to see what was pursuing him. It was Samuel, his speckled gray hair an odd juxtaposition to his torn shirt, sculptured muscles, and vindictive anger. He leaped over me, pounced on the young boy, and tore his head from his body. The head and body dissolved into dust. I noticed other piles of dust around the room as more vampires lost their lives over me.

  My stomach began to twist and heave at the waste of it all; all over me. Samuel crawled to my side, taking a blow to the shoulder by a dismembered arm that had been hurled across the room. I turned my head, trying to find the body it belonged to. Samuel lifted me from the ground and began dodging the crowd, heading in the general direction of the door. I was too exhausted and dazed to argue or worry about the others.

  My brain was lingering in the place between sleep and consciousness. I couldn't seem to pull myself free of the haze or allow myself the respite I so desperately needed. We had just reached the door when I felt Samuel jerk and lose his grip on me. I hit the floor with a thud that was drowned out by Samuel's own fall. He landed on my feet. It was a minor pain compared to my shredded back, piercing wound in my gut, or gash across my throat—all of which were beginning to mend. The rate of blood flow had diminished noticeably but not enough to keep me from worrying.

  Samuel jumped to his feet, ready to battle the most recent threat. While he punched and grappled, I rolled onto my stomach and tried to climb to my feet. I didn't get very far. I was barely on my knees when Nik reached my side and tossed me over his shoulder. I grunted and gasped as more blood—my blood—spouted from the wound in my stomach; the movement tore the wound afresh. Just like Samuel, Nik jerked as someone pounded him in the back. This time, being draped over his shoulders, I was able to see his attacker, or rather attackers.

  Two of Richard's vampires, one of which was the man with the shaggy, eighties mustache that had been reciting the ritual, had lined up to take on Nik. Mr. Mustache pummeled Nik's back with his elbow. Nik didn't fall like Samuel, but he didn't keep moving either. He turned toward them, ready to fight, even though I still hung limply from his shoulders. He blocked the next blow easily, taking a kick in the hip before he was dropped by a blow to the back of his knees. Evidently, others had joined the fight. The momentum sent me off his shoulders and over his head. I hit the edge of the steps and thumped down to the main level. Meanwhile, Nik defended himself from the multiple attackers.

  Again, I tried to climb to my feet but slipped on my own blood. The fall, short as it was, bashed my head against the concrete, bringing stars before my eyes and causing my stomach to give a little flip of surprise. I shook my head, trying to clear my mind. Before I could try again, another pair of feet came into view. I glanced up to see Mr. Mustache leering down at me.

  But he never got the chance to snatch me up. Josh slid up behind him, grabbed the man’s loose slacks, and yanked. They came down with an audible swoosh and settled around his ankles. With a smirk on his face, Josh gave him a shove and crawled to my side, followed closely by the yipping ghost of the dog from the graveyard. The tiny animal danced around Josh before noticing Mr. Mustache struggling with his pants. The dog jumped forward and tried to grab hold of the offending pant leg, but did little more than startle our enemy. Josh carefully picked me up, ignoring the antics of the dog.

  I suddenly felt the need to add handles to my daily wardrobe.

  I didn't want him to carry me. Like all the others, he would just end up dropping me. If they'd just give me a few minutes of calm and quiet I could handle the tumult surrounding me. Evidently, Josh was small enough to go unnoticed. We reached the door without incident, even made it to the stairs leading to the ground level before anyone stopped us. Sadly, the one to block the narrow stairway was the crazy warlock himself.

  The hood of Sedgrave's cloak, which appeared to be more of a raincoat type thing, was thrown back. To my great surprise, the tall though slight man looked to be no more than fifteen years old. He had soft blond hair that swooped mostly to one side. His skin was clear and very young looking, as though he had never seen the sun. A touch of baby fat still hung about his face, thou
gh what muscle he did have was long and lean, rather than bulky. He smiled slightly, his light green eyes brightening with an excitement that sent a chill to the very depths of my stomach.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, his voice soft and youthful. It didn't seem to match the many rumors and myths we'd heard. The simplicity of the question didn't fit with what was going on behind us. I had expected a harsh, gravelly voice in a coarse, old man.

  Before Josh could set me down, or even blink, the warlock flung power at us—sheer, blinding power. It hit like an invisible wall of gelatin that molded around our shape and forced us back down the hall toward the carnage. We collided with the far wall. My neck snapped to the side and my skull banged into the concrete. A bright light shone in my face—like a car's headlights. I blinked a few times to clear the sudden increase of moisture from my eyes.

  Josh quickly scrambled out from under my limp body and rushed the warlock in a rather headlong manner. To my surprise, he managed to move fast enough to tackle the warlock like a linebacker—which is impressive, considering how small Josh is (He's not above five foot five and maybe a hundred and fifty pounds, dripping with molasses). Still, he was up against a teenager. But this youth could fling what felt like walls of electricity.

  The warlock fell against the steps, hitting his head. I noticed a patch of red form on the bottom step and inhaled the sweet scent. Without thinking or feeling my pain, I climbed to my feet and pounced. I'd just gotten my teeth to the warlock's neck when his hands began to glow with a bright blue light that flowed up his arms, to his shoulders, and washed over the rest of his body.

  The light reached me, sending tendrils of pain through my teeth and down my throat. I tried to scream and pull myself away, but the light held me still, frozen in a crouch. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Josh frozen in the same way. The powerful light had spread across the floor and up Josh’s feet.

  Sedgrave pulled himself free and stalked up the steps, the blue glowing light still spilling down his arms toward the ground, like fog from dry ice. I tried to think of a way to escape, but my thoughts came slowly, in a muddled sort of way. I tried to remember why I was stuck, but that, too, was long forgotten.

  What is wrong with me? I wondered. Was it just the blood loss and general mayhem done to my body? I couldn't think—or try to think—about it long. The smell of the warlock's blood filled my senses. My head began to pound as though I had a hangover. Due more to instinct than actual thought, I attempted another lunge in his direction. I, of course, failed.

  Once Sedgrave had reached the top of the steps, blood still flowing down his neck and taunting me, he released us from his invisible grasp. Josh and I stumbled down a step or two before we could get our balance. Josh didn't wait. He rushed up the steps, but the warlock charged up his hands again, whispered a word, and flung a ball of blue fire at Josh.

  I shrieked, terrified that Josh would be burned to a crisp. Josh just managed to dodge it, the ball of mystical flame slamming into the back wall and leaving a large, scorched crater. Josh didn't let the attack slow him more than a second. He continued in his headlong charge, this time hitting the warlock in the shins and flipping him over his shoulder. I guess Josh had watched a great deal of hockey. This wasn't the first time I'd seen him use that move, though it was more effective on the stairs.

  I didn't move fast enough. The flailing warlock caught me across the chest, knocking me from the stairs. We landed in a pile. I was glad to notice the blue fog that had surrounded his hands had faded. I didn't hesitate. I grabbed Sedgrave's hair, yanked his neck to the side, and sunk my teeth into his neck.

  I had intended to drain him dry, but he screamed a word I didn't recognize, slammed his fist into the concrete, and caused the whole building to shake. The concrete bunker sprouted cracks and the impromptu earthquake rattled me right off the warlock. I landed on a wooden, wedge-shaped door stopper. He didn't give me the chance to attack again. He tossed a ball of sunlight at me. It caught me in the shoulder with enough force to slide me across the floor and against the far wall.

  I screamed. The glowing light seemed to be alive, seeping through my skin to the muscles beneath, but the living glow didn't stop there. It dripped down my arm and the back of my shoulder like hot lava. The pain was beyond anything I had ever felt. It made me see red.

  Pain is one of those things that can either make you give up or get angry enough to ignore it. This was the latter. I got too angry to consider the wisdom of my next move.

  During all this, Josh jumped forward, trying to grab Sedgrave's legs. Instead, he took a kick to the face that had more force than a human should be able to manage. Josh flew back, pounding into the concrete. I heard a sickening crack and hoped it was just a few useless ribs, and not something important, like a spine.

  Josh started to climb to his feet, one arm clutched to his side.

  “Stop,” ordered the warlock, his eyes focused on Josh. To my surprise, Josh obeyed. “You don't want to fight me. I stand for peace… ”

  I didn't wait to hear what else Sedgrave had to say on the topic of peace. I grabbed the wooden door stopper and jumped to my feet, all thought of pain or injury lost to the fury surging through my veins. How dare he hurt my friend!

  “You too,” commanded the youth.

  I hesitated, surprised by this new tactic.

  “Hell no,” I snapped, charging forward and slamming the wooden door stopper into the wound on his neck. Evidently, my sudden disobedience came as a complete surprise.

  It took every ounce of willpower I had to ignore the spurting blood and grab Josh. He managed to shake off the warlock's control and we both stumbled up the stairs, equally determined to get away. I didn't know a lot about magical practitioners. For all I knew, a warlock could survive the wound I gave him, which would kill most humans without a surgical team standing by.

  Josh and I stormed through the flooring company, our movement rattling a few of the samples off their displays. They clanked against the floor, making our exit less than sneaky.

  I stumbled through the glass doors, landing on my knees with the last of my strength. “Josh?” I whispered, hoping I hadn't lost him. I felt a pair of hands on my arms as I swayed toward the hard looking sidewalk.

  Those hands failed to catch me.