Lisa Jackson's Bentz & Montoya Bundle

by Lisa Jackson

  “Hey!” Bentz yelled.

  Jay flipped the switch. Nothing there. And the old fuse box wasn’t connected, its wires visibly cut. Nonetheless he opened the metal door and stared at the panel of old fuses, a thing of a bygone era, still in place. He pulled out the first and nothing happened. Waste of time. And then he noticed that one tiny wire, a newer wire, ran out the back of the box.

  He felt a little spurt of hope just as he heard footsteps overhead. More police no doubt, drawn by the gunshots.

  “Hey!” a big voice shouted as feet pounded through Wagner House. “What the fuck’s going on here?”

  He pulled another fuse plug. Nothing. Then another. And gears suddenly started grinding. Jay stepped back as a section of the wall, one devoid of doors, began to slide open.

  Swearing, Bentz was across the room in a flash.

  Without another word he and Jay walked into a tiny room with a narrow staircase. The door shut slowly behind them, plunging them into near total darkness.

  Kristi had no idea where she was going. The tunnel was long, narrow, and lit by thin, flickering lights on a track overhead. She’d made it to a corner when the door behind her opened and she heard a shout.

  Dr. Preston!

  Adrenaline spurred her on, but she was still weak, her hands bound, her brain not firing on all cylinders.

  It doesn’t matter. Just run. Until you come up to a dead end, just run. You have to escape.

  He was chasing her, his footsteps ringing on the cold stone floor, echoing through this narrow hallway, a tunnel of sorts. How did she get down here in the first place, she wondered, but just kept running.

  “Stop, bitch!”

  She didn’t bother to look over her shoulder, knew only that he was gaining on her.

  Faster, Kristi, faster!

  Her heart was beating wildly, her feet slapping the uneven floor, scraping on the stones. She was a runner…she could do this!

  And still he pursued her.

  Oh, God, she had to get away from him. Ahead was an opening, she saw it. Lights beyond. Maybe a way out!

  With a final burst of speed she raced through the archway and found herself in a huge room…like a dark, underground spa. The dark cavern was filled with candles and mirrors and a stone tub filled to overflowing, water cascading over its sides.

  A woman, a beautiful woman with dark hair and sharp features, was reclining in the water. She was taking a damned bath, for the love of God.

  “You have to help me!” Kristi said in a rush, and again wondered if this was all some weird dream or if she were still hallucinating from the drugs she’d been given hours ago. Maybe this was all just a weird, horrible reaction.

  “Of course I’ll help you,” the woman said, her eyes gleaming with a malevolence that made Kristi’s insides curdle.

  Wait. This naked bather was no friend.

  Kristi started to back up, but couldn’t; the doorway was now filled with Dr. Preston.

  “So, Vlad, do you want to try something new?” the woman asked.

  Vlad? She’d called Dr. Preston Vlad?

  Kristi was damned sure, like Alice before her, she’d fallen into a nightmarish wonderland. “What is this?” she asked, afraid of the answer as she scanned the room wildly, looking for escape. There was only one doorway and it was firmly blocked by Dr. Preston or Vlad or whoever the hell he thought he was.

  “Something new?”

  “Let’s pump her directly into the tub,” the woman suggested. “Just contain her, slip her into the water with me, and slit her wrists. So much easier than pumping all the blood out and dripping it into the tub.”

  Kristi’s mouth went dry as she backed away. Surely she’d heard wrong. No way were they going to pump the blood from her veins.

  Dr. “Vlad” Preston turned to Kristi. “Elizabeth wants to bathe in your blood.”

  Kristi could only stare, her brain devoid of rational thought as she tried to make some sense of this. “Elizabeth?” she repeated.

  “The name I’ve taken. Of an ancestor. You might have heard of her? Countess Elizabeth of Bathory?”

  Instantly Kristi recalled what she’d learned from Dr. Grotto’s class. About the sadistic woman who had killed young girls, innocents who worked for her, and bathed in their blood in an attempt to rejuvenate her own flesh.

  Elizabeth rested her head on the tiles and sighed as if she were in ecstasy. “She was right, you know. I’ve seen a difference since I’ve been using her treatment.”

  “Blood baths,” Kristi said, scarcely recognizing her own fear-choked voice. From the corner of her eye, she saw Vlad approaching. He gave her wide berth, but closed in. “That’s what happened to the others? To Monique? Dionne?”

  “Yes, yes, and Tara and Ariel, those that are good enough.” She sat up then and said, “But I wouldn’t have the lesser. No tainted blood.”

  “Karen Lee wasn’t tainted,” Vlad said.

  “Not good enough for me, then.” Elizabeth settled back in the water and said, “Let’s do this before I shrivel up like a prune.”

  Kristi wasn’t giving that whacked out woman one drop of her blood. As Vlad approached, she reeled, kicking him hard in the shin again. She tried to sprint past him, but he was onto her plan. He threw himself at her and they went down in a heap, wrestling and fighting. He was strong as an ox and heavier, forcing her to the floor.

  “Vicious bitch,” he growled, grabbing hold of her bound wrists and forcing them over her head so that she was heaving and sweating beneath him.

  Elizabeth stood. “Don’t ruin her! Don’t crush her vessels…I want…”

  “I know what you want!” Vlad spat out, but he was staring down at Kristi. To her horror, she felt his erection, stiff and hard, through his black pants. She fought the urge to heave as a smile slid snakelike over his lips and he pushed his groin down a little harder, making certain she knew what was about to happen.

  She was going to be raped and drained of blood.

  Oh, God, she had to fight. This couldn’t happen!

  She tried to squirm, but got nowhere, and within seconds he’d bound her feet again and forced a pill down her throat by holding her nose until she gasped and coughed.

  Within minutes the drug, whatever the hell it was, started to take effect again and she was weak as a kitten, her brain disengaged as if she were drunk.

  She tried to flail, but her swipes found only air as he cut off the tape surrounding her wrists. While she wanly protested, he hauled her into the warm, almost soothing water.

  “About damned time,” Elizabeth complained petulantly.

  “I had to wait until the drug took effect.”

  “I know, I know.” Elizabeth slid to one side, her skin slick against Kristi’s. “Look at her skin. Flawless. Perfect…” She glanced up at Vlad. “She’s the one. Her blood will do it.”

  Do what? Save her from aging? “Nope. You’re done,” Kristi managed to say, but they ignored her, and though she tried to wriggle away, she couldn’t. To her disbelief, as if from a long way away, she watched as Vlad very carefully slit her right wrist.

  In a swirling plume, her blood began to stain the water.

  Mathias was dead. Murdered. Apparently while he’d been praying at his bedside.

  A statement? Mai Kwan wondered as she called in a report to her superior, then searched through the priest’s small rooms, trying to come up with a clue as to why the man had become a victim. And why did Kristi Bentz think he was involved with Wagner House and some kind of weird vampire cult?

  No vampire had been at this murder scene.

  Too much blood left behind.

  Montoya was with her every step of the way, through the slashing rain as thunder cracked, backing her up as they’d entered Mathias’s rooms. He hadn’t said much but had taken in the entire gruesome scene.

  “What do you think?” he asked as she bent over the body.

  “He pissed off the wrong guy. Look at this,” she said, pointing to the priest’s n
eck. “His throat is slashed, jugular, carotid, hell, nearly to his spine.”

  “Almost decapitated,” Montoya said grimly.

  “Rage. Whoever did this was in a blind fury.”

  “At a priest?”

  “This priest. It’s personal.”

  Which didn’t bode well for Kristi Bentz and Ariel O’Toole.

  Mai stepped over the body, walked to the priest’s desk and started going through his files, all the while wondering what Bentz and McKnight had found. If anything.

  Mai hated to think it, but she sensed that Kristi Bentz was already dead. And, judging from the state of Father Mathias’s body, violently murdered.

  Kristi tried to force her eyes open, to find some energy to fight, but she could barely stay awake, her muscles refusing to aid her as she lay in the soothing bath, the water turning scarlet.

  “I feel it,” Elizabeth said into her ear as Kristi tried to move away from her slick, clinging limbs. “I feel it rejuvenating me.”

  Oh, for the love of God. No way! Again she tried to push away even though she thought that without Elizabeth’s arm around her she might sink into the tub, slide beneath the murky surface and drown in her own blood. The mirrors in the room allowed her to watch in horror and disbelief as her own face went white. Vlad the Horrible stood at the edge of the tub, ready to climb in with them.

  Her skin crawled at the thought and she wanted to scream, to rail at the heavens, to call for help. But it was too late. Her voice let out only the barest of whispers and Vlad, as he glared down upon her, knew it. The smile upon his wicked lips, the light of anticipation in his eyes, told her he enjoyed her suffering, her ultimate fate.

  He was a monster. A mortal who envisioned himself as something more. Who was this sicko who licked at blood, who pretended to be a vampire, who taught a class at the college all the while preying upon his students? There was no doubt that he adored Elizabeth, who almost seemed to be his mistress. Almost.

  “You’re like a dog on a leash,” Kristi said to him. “She uses you.”

  “As I use her,” he replied, irritated. He reached down toward her neck and Kristi expected him to try and choke her. Instead one finger locked on the gold chain and he ripped it from her neck. “This belongs to me,” he said, clasping the vial of blood in his hand much as he’d held a piece of chalk during his boring lectures. He slid a glance at Elizabeth. “We’ll have to save a few drops for one more.” His lips curled into an evil smile, revealing his needle-sharp teeth.

  “You’re such a fake,” Kristi said, feeling dizzy, hardly able to concentrate. As Vlad leaned forward again, she spat in his face, the spittle dripping into the tub.

  “What! No!” Elizabeth nearly freaked. “The water can’t be tainted!”

  Effortlessly, he scooped up the floating spittle and snarled, “It’s fine.”

  “But—”

  “Shhh. I said it’s fine,” he said more sternly, and Elizabeth, though irritated, quieted.

  Light-headed, Kristi spat again. This time the globule landed on Elizabeth’s leg.

  The woman screamed, and Vlad showed his teeth once more. “I’ll rip out your fuckin’ throat,” he warned, eyes blazing.

  Good! Get it over with! But the words didn’t form, with Kristi’s strength seeping away. Vlad saw her weakness and he gloated over her, his smile triumphant, his wicked, fraudulent fangs glistening in the candlelight. “She is ours,” he said, so loudly his voice echoed in the underground chamber.

  Kristi opened her mouth to argue, to scream, but only a small sound escaped.

  It was too late.

  She saw her own skin leeching of color, knew she was shivering despite the warm bath, felt herself slipping out of consciousness. Darkness closed and in a way it would be a welcome relief from this torment.

  No help was coming.

  She couldn’t fight.

  Her blood flowed, coloring the water a darker hue.

  She was, she knew, dying, slipping away.

  She would never see Jay again.

  Never argue with her father.

  All was lost….

  As the black curtain slid behind her eyes, she wondered faintly if there was a heaven. Hell? Would her soul rise and would she see her mother again? Jennifer Bentz, who had become little more than a memory as faded as the pictures in the old album she’d found in the attic. Would she actually see her again?

  Her throat clogged with unshed tears as she thought of the mother she barely remembered while being held afloat by a psycho who wanted, of all things, her blood.

  Dear God…maybe she should just let go.

  Never had she felt so alone.

  Jay, she thought weakly, and nearly cried with the thought of how much she loved him.

  She was cold inside and the blackness that was teasing at her began pulling her under. All her life Kristi had been a fighter; maybe, finally, it was time to succumb.

  Voices.

  Jay heard the sound of voices.

  He lifted his hand to Bentz, who nodded.

  Nerves strung tight, crouched and ready for an attack within the darkness, they each took one side of the long tunnel that opened to a large, dark chamber. The room was empty except for half a dozen chairs placed in an arc around a raised platform, like a stage, upon which a worn velvet lounge rested. A hazy mist rose from the floor and a red light pulsed, almost throbbed, as it illuminated.

  The voices emanated from an open doorway that led back to the tunnels.

  Without a word they split, each taking one side of the next tunnel. There were offshoots, doorways that appeared locked. But at the end of the darkened hallway a room glowed in flickering light, as if lit by a hundred candles.

  On silent feet, they headed toward the doorway, and the voices reached Jay’s ears.

  “Her blood flows, Elizabeth…washing over you…it’s almost finished.”

  Jay’s heart nearly stopped.

  Jaw set, he exchanged glances with Bentz, nodded, and they burst into the room where Kristi lay, white as a sheet, in a tub that overflowed with thick red water and was occupied by another woman who was looking upward at a naked man who was about to step into the tub.

  “Hands over your head!” Bentz roared.

  Dr. Preston’s head snapped up.

  The woman turned and Jay nearly faltered.

  Althea Monroe? The woman he’d replaced? The professor who was supposed to be taking care of her frail, displaced mother? She was in a blood-filled tub with Kristi?

  “On the floor!” Bentz ordered. “Now, cocksucker!”

  “Vlad!” Althea screamed. “Kill them!”

  As if she had complete control over him, Preston whirled, knife in hand. With incredible precision, he threw the knife at Jay and in the same motion, launched himself across the room, straight at Bentz. Hands outstretched, teeth bared, he leapt.

  Jay ducked, the knife glancing off his shoulder, pain shooting down his arm.

  Bentz fired, unloading into the naked man as he fell upon him. Jay was at the tub in an instant, dragging Kristi from the murky, red water. She was unconscious, her body limp and pale, the slits on her wrists dark with smears of crimson. He tore at his shirt, making strips for bandages. He couldn’t lose her now. No way. He had to save her. Frantically, he wound the fabric over her right arm.

  “No!” Althea raged. “I need her!” Climbing from the tub, she pounced, her eyes bright with her madness.

  Blam, blam, blam!

  A gun fired and Althea’s body jerked as the bullets ripped through her flesh.

  She gasped, covering her wounds as she fell, screaming, “No, no…oh, no…Scars…I can’t have…scars….” Blood bubbled from her mouth with the final words.

  Montoya stood in the doorway, his weapon still aimed at her.

  “Call 9-1-1!” he yelled as Jay wrapped the strips of cotton over Kristi’s wrists.

  “They’re on their way.” Mai was already at Bentz’s side as he pushed Preston’s body away. “You okay?
”

  “Fine.” He was on his feet and crossing the room to kneel beside Jay, who was cradling Kristi. The slightest pulse was visible at her neck, but Jay knew she’d lost too much blood.

  “Hang in there, Kristi, you just hang in there. Don’t you dare leave me.” His throat was thick and though he knew Bentz wanted to touch his daughter, to hold her, Jay couldn’t let her go. She was breathing, but just barely, and he willed her to survive as Althea Monroe breathed her last.

  Through the veil, Kristi heard the crack of gunfire, smelled the acrid odor of cordite, and heard voices…frantic voices. People shouting. People running. People screaming. She felt herself being dragged from the water and one voice was louder than the others.

  Jay?

  She tried to open her eyes but couldn’t, and though she felt his arms around her, heard his muffled voice telling her to hold on, it was impossible.

  “Don’t you dare leave me….”

  Another voice. Her father’s?

  If she could just pull back, if she could find the strength to open her eyes, to push back the curtain to…

  “Kristi! Stay with me, darlin’! Kristi!”

  Jay’s voice was steady, determined, as if he were willing her back to him, but it was too late. She wanted to tell him she loved him, that he shouldn’t worry about her, but her lips wouldn’t move, the words wouldn’t come, and she felt herself slipping ever deeper, floating away…

  It seemed to take forever for the paramedics to arrive, but when they did, Kristi was still breathing. Shallow breaths, but still alive. The EMTs administered to her, placed an oxygen mask over her face, and carried her out on a stretcher.

  “I’m going with them,” Jay insisted.

  “Me, too.” Bentz was covered in blood, Charles Preston’s—Vlad’s—blood, but otherwise unhurt. Jay’s wound was slight and he assured the EMT that he would be fine until they reached the hospital. He asked Mai to check on Bruno in the truck, then hurried to keep up with the stretcher.