Just a little more and we’re there.
My waist and shoulders began to inch through the opening. The bricks hadn’t moved. My body was literally seeping through the barrier. The entire thing must be an illusion. I pressed my face into the ward and found it was black like a void.
We’re almost inside. I gave one more internal shove, throwing the last of my power into the final nooks and crannies, and passed completely through the bricks with a loud pop. Absolute darkness consumed me. The Trows shrieked their displeasure on the other side. They sounded muted from in here. I was relieved they hadn’t been able to pass through. Surprisingly, it didn’t feel claustrophobic inside the ward, but I knew if I stayed much longer, a possible phobia might develop.
I extended my arms outward, testing.
My power was still all around me, keeping the space open, but the ward pressed down against us, trying to beat my power back. We’re in a no-man’s-land. We need to blast through to the other side and we have to do it before the ward chokes our power out.
I closed my eyes, even though it was dark, and concentrated on the energy around me. The only thing we can do is gather our power and try to force it back out in a blast and hope it’s enough. I exhaled, and in one motion, sucked all the power that I’d encased in the ward back into my body. It plunged back in like a shot, making me stumble. The ward compressed as I took my magic back, stealing the air out of my lungs.
I braced my hands in front of me.
As quickly as I could, before the ward crushed the life out of me, I shot a concentrated blast of power out in front of me. A big boom of thunder hit my ears and the next thing I knew, I was sprawled on a dirt ground panting.
I blinked and looked around.
I think we’re out.
I sat up slowly, dusting off my hands. I twisted my legs around and examined them for Trow damage. I’d been so amped up on adrenaline and power, I hadn’t felt the continued assault. My spandex was full of holes, but it was still intact. Everything is healed already. Thank goodness those little shits didn’t have any venom. I was in my Lycan form, and apparently my muscles were harder to ravage.
Brushing off my legs, I stood and tried to figure out where I was.
It was dark, and I took a step forward, right as something rammed into the back of my legs. I crashed to the ground, rolling once before I shot to my feet, crouching low, arms out to the sides in my fighting stance.
“It’s wonderful you could join us,” a voice whispered in my ear. “We’ve been waiting.”
17
There was no one in front of me. The tunnel was empty. It was not as dark as where I’d just been. My eyesight adjusted and I saw there was a slight incline leading uphill, which I assumed would eventually lead me out of this underground hell to freedom.
The breathy voice hit my ear again as soft prods, like invisible fingers, landed all over my body. “We need you, Jessica. Come help us.”
Another voice, this one childlike, cried, “You took too long. I want to see my mommy.”
My fur sprang on end as my skin erupted in millions of goose bumps.
Ghosts.
Yuri had said the tunnels ran under a cemetery. No, no, no. Please don’t tell me we’re trapped underground with a healthy number of ghosts. My wolf’s ears were pinned back. Don’t panic, I told her—but really, I needed those words myself. I cringed at the thought of ghosts. How do you fight against something you can’t see? My wolf was equally freaked out. Her canines were exposed, her lips curled. It would be hard to defeat beings who had such little power and no magic.
I had no idea how to make them go away.
“What do you want?” I asked, taking a few steps forward. Currents of air continued to brush against my face and arms. There was no way to know how many were here with me.
“We want to be free,” a voice whispered right next to my ear.
“Outside. I want to go outside.”
“My mommy is calling. Can’t you hear?” Something shook my pant leg.
Baby ghosts?
Did I really need to be assaulted by infant specters? I tried to rack my brain for a reason why I deserved to have tiny invisible children haunting me, but I came up with nothing.
Vicious Trows were worse than being trapped in a tunnel with a few ghosts, right?
I needed some perspective. These ghosts obviously wanted something from me and I needed to find Naomi. Maybe they would make a trade and leave me alone. “I don’t know if I can help you,” I called around me, cautiously moving forward. “But if you help me, I will try and help you. That’s all I have to offer.”
“Power.” Something glided by my face, shifting the air currents around me. “So much … power.”
“Come with us.” The voices sounded far away yet close, like an invisible hand was toggling a huge volume control knob.
“We will show you the way.”
“You will take care of us.”
Invisible fingers prodded me forward and I let them guide me. I addressed the crowd at once. “I’m looking for a vampire named Naomi. Do you know where she is? Medium height, chestnut hair, pretty features, smart as a tack?”
“Yes.”
“We know her.”
“They brought her here.”
Hope pricked along my senses. “Is she being held somewhere close? Do you know if she’s safe?” I asked.
“Awful.”
“Sad.” A ghost started to cry.
Jesus, when ghosts cried, you knew the news was going to be as shitty as possible. “How badly is she hurt?” My voice rose several octaves, and even though I had no idea where I was going, I started to trot down the tunnel. It leveled off after the first small hill and started to twist and turn. “What is this place? Where are we?”
“The House of Death.” Voices clamored around me, echoing the word “death.”
Well, that was nice.
I tried to project my inner voice out to Rourke and my brother. If we were all out of the mansion, it may work. Can you hear me, Rourke? I switched channels. Tyler, are you out there? What’s going on?
“They cannot hear you.”
“The Queen prevents it.”
“Hey,” I yelled. “Stay out of my brain!” I couldn’t feel them floating around in there, which is what I guessed they were doing, but I wanted my thoughts to stay my own. “Why can’t my Pack hear me?”
“The same reason we cannot get out.”
“And?” I asked. “What reason would that be?”
“The barrier.”
“Is stifles us.”
“It holds us tightly.”
This wasn’t getting me anywhere. I had no idea what barrier they were talking about, but Naomi was my first priority. “Is Naomi in the … House of Death with us?” I asked. “Can you lead me to her?”
“Crypts … crypts … crypts.”
“Are all the crypts connected?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Just underground.”
“Beneath the soil.”
They continued to usher me forward, their ghost fingers tickling my skin. Grainy outlines made maneuvering possible, but having the invisible guides made it much easier. “Are we moving toward Naomi?”
“Yes.”
“We will take you.”
“For a price.”
That wasn’t surprising. Everything had a price.
The tunnel changed course while I ran. They prodded me in the right direction each time I hit a roadblock—I hoped. I really had no idea. They could be leading me to someplace terrible and I’d be none the wiser. “Are we almost there?” Before they could answer, I spotted a wooden door up ahead. It was old and corroded, set into the earth on an iron frame, anchored by ancient timbers. It must be a way up to one of the crypts aboveground.
I slid to a stop.
“No, no,” a breathy voice said so close to my face I flinched. “That is not the one.”
“Mustn’t go up there.”
“He should not wake.�
�
“Danger to us all.”
“I take it this is the wrong door?” I said sarcastically. “You guys need to pick up the pace. My team is looking for me. I need to find my friends. Can’t we just head through here”—I gestured to the old door—“and take a more direct route through the cemetery?” Being underground was beginning to take its toll. It was so dark and dank it was messing with my state of mind.
“No. Can’t go.”
“Bad man.” A child’s voice began to whimper.
“He will harm us.”
My sarcasm was clearly lost on the incorporeal. “If this is not the right door, you need to show me where the right one is, and after I free my friend, I will try to … break the barrier you keep chattering about.” Maybe if the barrier went down, I could finally talk to my Pack.
“Yes. The barrier must come down.”
“Freedom.”
“We will show you the way.”
I started to run once again. Two more turns and several doors later the hands guided me to a stop. This door was the most detailed one I’d seen. It also appeared to be well used. It was decorated with ghoulish pictures of graveyard bandits, with masks and shovels, digging up graves. If I had to guess, this must be one of the main torture chambers. “If she’s not okay, I am going to seriously hurt someone,” I murmured to myself.
“Asleep.”
“Sleep of the dead.”
“Not much time left.”
A concentrated shove sent me tumbling closer to the door.
“No need to push,” I growled. “I’m going.” I grabbed on to the black doorknob and was immediately flung back by a strong jolt of power. “Cripes.” I recovered, shaking my hand until the sting abated. This door was spelled, and it was decidedly witchy. I had to be more careful in this madhouse. “Why didn’t you tell me it was warded?” I grumbled to my ghost posse. “That would’ve been extremely helpful.”
“Magic is weak.”
“Cannot keep us out.”
“We will help you.”
At once the door popped open, creaking on its old hinges. That was an unexpected surprise. “I could’ve used you guys in the Trow tunnel.”
“Cannot pass there.”
“Magic keeps us out.”
“Old wards are strong.”
“Okay, okay,” I said. “I’m going to try and dial my sarcasm down to a minimum from now on.” I ducked my head through the opening and tread carefully up steps made of packed earth. They were terribly corroded and barely counted as steps. They were more like lumps of dirt. Once I reached the top, a trapdoor made of thick, white marble loomed above me.
The bottom entrance to the crypt above.
“Is this warded?” I asked.
“It is free.”
“Vampires leave it so.”
“You may enter.”
Let’s make sure, I told my wolf. I tentatively pressed a single fingernail on the marble. A soft hum of magic met my touch, but nothing threatened me directly. It was probably residual magic. The main door to the outside of the crypt was likely heavily spelled, but whoever was in charge of the torturing must think warding the trapdoor was unnecessary.
“Here we go,” I said as I braced my palms against the cool surface and pushed upward. I had to use a considerable amount of strength because the marble was crazy heavy. “This must be two feet thick,” I grunted. “But it’s working.” There was no resistance, so I kept sliding.
Once it was fully open, the smell of blood hit me.
I caught Naomi’s scent immediately following.
I leaned up and peered into the room. There were faint Gothic shapes decorating the ceiling of the chamber. It was dark inside the crypt. Just like the tunnels, and I could tell from my position and the sloping beams of the roof it was big inside, more like a mausoleum than a crypt. “Is it safe to go inside?” I asked. “No other nasties waiting to attack?” Why not ask my ghost pals if I had the chance? I didn’t detect anything, but that didn’t mean something wasn’t lurking.
“You can enter,” a whisper floated by my ear.
“No one is here.”
“Can I see my mommy now?”
Good grief.
I eased myself through the opening, my body back to my human form. My change was automatic now, not even triggering much thought. I didn’t know if that was good or bad.
The first thing I noticed was a long, rectangle slab of stone perched in the middle of the room.
Normally it would’ve held a coffin with a dead person inside. Instead there was a single shrouded figure lying on top. This wasn’t like Selene’s lair with torture devices hanging all over the walls. This was obviously a place where they took vamps to make sure they didn’t wake. Naomi had once told me she knew how to incapacitate a vamp. I should’ve asked for details while I’d had the chance. Now I was left to my own devices. I hope she’s not badly hurt. That mummy wrap doesn’t look too promising. It could be hiding a lot of damage.
I paced toward her slowly, scenting everything I could.
There were traces of Valdov’s signature, but he hadn’t been here recently. I couldn’t identify anyone else, because I’d never smelled them before. I scented lots of blood—mostly Naomi’s, which smelled oddly like me. But the white sheet wasn’t swathed in red. How do you think they’re keeping her unconscious? I smell blood but I don’t see any.
“You must hurry.”
“It takes too much.”
“Cannot regenerate the bloodletting.”
“Bloodletting?” I asked, alarmed. I rushed to the fabric containing her and tore it apart. It ripped easily, falling onto the cold mausoleum floor with only a whisper of a sound. She was swathed in a few layers so it took me some time to get through it all. “Come on,” I urged as I tore. “Please be alive.” The first thing I uncovered was her chest. It was unmoving, but that was to be expected. She was still dressed. I took both my hands and split the last layer of cloth straight up to her neck. There was a loud zzzzzzip as the fabric fell apart in my grasp.
A still, bone-white face stared back.
Her eyes were closed and there were heavy dark spots sunken just above her cheekbones. She was so still she appeared to be dead. I had to remind myself that was still normal.
“The arm.”
“Must take it out.”
“It’s hungry.”
“Blood fills the walls too quickly.”
What walls? I didn’t hesitate. Her arms were each wrapped separately. I tore the cloth completely away. One of her arms was hooked to what looked to be a tiny silver funnel. Where it touched her skin, a patch had burned away completely. It was oozing thick red blood. Anger bubbled up inside me so fiercely it took all I had not to bellow my rage and alert everyone within a twenty-mile radius. I reached over her body and tore the funnel from her arm. It burned my fingers, but it didn’t register. As I did, a plastic tube I hadn’t noticed flew with it, breaking from wherever it had been secured, spraying blood all over the room.
“What the hell was that?” I yelled, jumping out of the way, wiping blood off my face with my forearm. “Why was she hooked to a tube?” I leaned over and picked up some of the discarded fabric and blotted the blood off Naomi’s pale skin, hovering over her hoping she’d wake.
“You must feed her quickly.”
“She yearns for blood.”
“The walls are almost full.”
“What walls are you talking about?” I shouted in frustration. “Can someone please tell me what’s happening in more than three or four words?”
“You must look below.” Something shoved me from the back, prodding me around the side.
I complied and walked around the thick marble structure that held Naomi’s unconscious body.
“She feeds it too quickly.”
“She is not like other vamps.”
“She is strong.” The whispers came quickly, jumbled together like they were all talking at the same time.
For some reaso
n the ghosts seemed suddenly nervous.
I spotted a circular hole near the bottom where the tube must have been hooked. My stomach lurched. Naomi’s blood had been draining into this thing, filling it up. I inhaled, moving closer to the small opening. There was so much blood. As fast as she could regenerate, it was being siphoned away.
That’s how they kept vamps incapacitated. They knocked them out and drained their lifeblood, making them too weak to fight or even wake up.
But what her captors didn’t realize was she didn’t have ordinary blood running through her veins.
She had mine.
It made her stronger, so she would survive. She had to survive. “Who did this to her?” I demanded. I addressed the ghosts, because there was no one else around to question. My wolf snarled and snapped her muzzle, urging me to free her. We just need to feed her and give her more blood. Then she’ll be as good as new. We have to believe that.
I maneuvered myself next to her, leaning over her stark face, whipping my wrist up to her mouth, ready to tear my skin with my teeth.
“No!”
“You must wait.”
“Have to stop it first.”
The voices rushed up against my ears urgently and hands jostled me in place, forcing me to drop my wrist.
“Stop what?” I yelled. “You said two minutes ago I had to feed her. She clearly needs my blood or she’s not going to wake up.” I glanced down at her arm where the silver had been secured. It wasn’t healing. “What do I need to do? Stop giving me one word answers and tell me.”
“Must release the blood.”
“What do you mean release the blood? You’re not talking about the blood in the bottom of this altar, right? Please tell me you’re not talking about the blood that has been draining from her all this time and is now sloshing around in this giant marble bathtub.”
“If the blood is not freed, she cannot heal.”
“It keeps her here.”
“The blood binds her to it.”
They were definitely talking about something I didn’t understand.
My arms prickled. Shivering, I stepped back and searched the room again, but I didn’t feel any spells. I glanced down at Naomi. The only it they could be talking about had to be inside the stone altar. Tentatively, like reaching out to pet a rabid animal, I placed both my palms on top of the white and gray veined marble platform.
Cold Blooded jm-3 Page 17
