by Kresley Cole
"What does it do, vampire?"
Damn it, he wore gloves? "Take off a glove and touch it." Be the last one to touch it. "You'll better understand its power."
Chase gave him a shrewd look. "No, I don't believe I will."
"If you keep it here, you will bring evil down upon this place." She was coming for him. But he had to get back to her. He still had crumbs of her mummy flesh in his pocket. Still had gold flakes from her body.
"What kind of evil?"
"Hers!" Once the waters receded, she and her foul guards would come.
"As no evil can get out of this facility," Chase said, "I'm confident the reverse is true as well."
She could reach Lothaire across time if she needed to. A mere mortal jail couldn't keep her out.
"You play with a god's power. She wants the ring."
"What does it do? Why do you want it so badly?"
Lothaire just stared at the ceiling, counting down each second to the time when the Gilded One arrived.
"Tell me what it does. Now!" Chase launched his fist against Lothaire's face, the blow like an anvil hit.
Lothaire shook his head hard, then grinned up with bloody fangs. "Blyad'! You're no normal mortal."
Another hit, this time with more rage. No wonder this male was able to take me! Though Lothaire sensed Chase wasn't an immortal per se, he was somehow enhanced.
Probably taking some chemical to increase his strength. The male's pupils were enlarged, and a sweet scent emanated from his skin. "I wonder what you'd taste like."
"You filthy leech, answer me."
Lothaire sighed. "Chto ty nesesh'?"
"Why am I bothering you with this? Is that what you said?"
"You speak my tongue?" Lothaire asked.
"Enough of it. Now, answer me!"
"Or what? What can you do to me that hasn't already been done?" With a laugh, he related, "I've been hung from a tree with the length of my intestines. I've been unmanned with a whip made of razor wire. Naturally, that took many lashes. I've watched a Lykae lord eat my eyes after scooping them out of my skull with a rusty spoon. Of course, I could only watch the first; for the second, I listened to him chewing it wetly, until there was a pop that he seemed to particularly enjoy."
And when Dorada got hold of him? Now, that would be torturous.
"You see, that's the thing with you detrus," Chase began in a contemplative tone. "Your bodies are abominations. If I severed your arms--"
Lothaire yawned loudly.
"--you'd merely regenerate from the injury. You might experience pain, but you wouldn't suffer the horror of permanent loss, not like a human."
Lothaire grew increasingly bored by this. "When I get free, I believe I'll show you your spine. I'll hand it to you so casually, politely even, as if expecting you to remark upon it."
Ignoring that, Chase continued, "Of course, mortals also don't suffer from ... the sun." He flipped a switch, and overhead, the lights changed.
Lothaire's skin began to burn. UV bulbs.
Chase ripped open Lothaire's shirt, exposing his chest. Though Lothaire was older and not as sensitive to the sun as other vampires, this was intense. "Chase, my master thanks you for this." With a laugh, he grated, "You prepare me ... for trials to come."
As charred flesh began to fall from his body, he writhed in agony. His hair turned to soot, the tip of his nose and the ends of his fingers disintegrating.
And he couldn't stop laughing.
"You're glowing," the kid told Regin. He stood to his full towering height and pointed at Natalya. "And your lips are black." He gave a strained chuckle, looking like he was about to start banging his head again. "Snakes have arms and can talk, and men have horns, and--"
"Take a deep breath, my poor lad," Natalya said. "Here, have a seat next to me." She guided him over to one of the bunks and sat close beside him.
"You both have pointed ears."
"I'm a dark fey called Natalya. That's Regin. She's a Valkyrie."
Regin said, "So, you got a name?"
He absently replied, "Thaddeus Brayden, ma'am. Everybody calls me Thad."
Ma'am? "How did you get here? What do you remember?"
"I, uh, I drove to my date's house to pick her up," he said warily.
"Go on." Natalya patted his knee.
"While I was waiting, her dad kept looking at me funny, questioning me about stuff. But then he seemed to calm down, even gave me a shot of whiskey. When I woke up, I was here, seeing things. Things that can't be right."
Regin asked, "What are you?"
"A senior, ma'am."
Natalya murmured, "I could just eat--him--up." She scooted closer to him until their thighs touched.
Regin glared at her, then asked, "I meant, are you human?"
"Of course, I'm human! Wh-why ask me something like that?"
"Because you're in a Lore supermax," Natalya said. "A prison for immortal creatures."
"I don't understand."
After Natalya relayed the basics about the Order and the Lore, he said, "These people made a mistake. I play ball, go to church on Sunday. I'm an Eagle Scout! I never heard of any of this stuff." He raked his fingers through his tousled hair. "I just want to go home."
Regin snorted. "Don't we all?" Actually, she only wanted to get to Lucia. Would her sister still be in South America?
Natalya patted his knee again. "What'd the dad say before he micked you?"
"That I play ball better than anyone he's ever seen. But I get that all the time, you know," he said without conceit. "I've set all these records and everything. So I thought he was going to accuse me of juicing, but I don't touch that stuff."
"Records, huh?" Regin said. "Sounds like super-human strength and speed to me."
He exhaled. "I guess. But if I'm not human, then what am I?"
"We don't know," Regin admitted. "You don't have horns or pointed ears, no glyphs or scales."
Natalya added, "I thought you might be a vampire, but you have a tan line."
In a measured tone, he asked, "How do you know that I have a tan line?"
"I checked to make sure you weren't a vampire," Natalya said. "You see, we're enemies with the vampire Horde."
Regin narrowed her eyes at the kid. "Hey, you didn't use tan in a can, did you?"
"Of course not. I was out in the sun over the weekend, playing touch football. I was on the skins team."
Natalya was all but purring. "Did you hear that, Regin? The lads played touch football. And Thad was shirtless."
Regin rolled her eyes. Luckily, Thad was too preoccupied to notice the cougar going into heat right beside him.
"So does this mean I'm like invincible to bullets or something?"
"No, you're still totally vincible," Regin said. "At least until you stop growing and reach your full immortality."
Menacing growls sounded down the corridor as another fight broke out. Thad's eyes started to go buggy again, so Regin snapped her fingers. "Hey, Thad! Stay with us, kid. Tell us about yourself. What are your parents like?" Really strong? Probably don't look much older than you do? "Anything unusual?"
"My mom's a widow. My dad died on the work site when I was four. They'd adopted me not long before that."
An orphan. No wonder Thad had no idea what he was.
"I live with Mom and my grandmother now. Nothing unusual. Mom likes to cook. Gram sews."
"So you eat your mom's cooking?"
He glowered. "She's a great cook."
Talk about ruffled feathers. "I meant, do you eat?" Clearly, nobody better talk bad about Thaddeus Brayden's mama.
"Of course I eat."
"When was the last time?" Regin said.
"I had a burger yesterday."
Natalya said, "Not quite so, my boy. You've been here for over a week."
"A week!" He shot to his feet, towering over them. "I'm not even hungry. How's that possible?"
"Some species don't have to eat a lot. Regin's doesn't have to eat at all. Ther
e are phantoms, ghosts, succubae, incubi. Maybe half a dozen more." To Regin, she muttered, "My money--and my hopes--are on incubus."
"I can't believe I've been here that long! Oh, man, I missed a game Friday. Coach is gonna kill me."
If the mortals don't kill you first. ...
"Mom and Gram are gonna be worried sick. I've never even broken curfew." Then his voice went low. "Is my family gonna be safe?"
"We don't know," Regin said. "But since you were adopted, they're probably mortal, which means they'll likely be left alone."
"If anybody touches them ..." His eyes flickered. Black.
She and Natalya shared a look. Black indicated vampire, or possibly demon.
Then Natalya's gaze flittered toward the corridor. "Ah, gods, Valkyrie. Look."
Guards were dragging by Uilleam MacRieve. The werewolf's blue eyes were glazed, his body shuddering, his skin bloodless. Dixon had vivisected him, leaving a line of staples down his broad chest. His ears were bleeding.
"Wh-who is he?" Thad croaked.
"One of my allies," Regin said. The Lykae were now united with the Valkyrie, part of the Vertas army. In fact, Regin was distantly related to Uilleam by marriage. Her halfling niece Emma had wed his cousin, the werewolf king--a king who gazed at Emma with utter adoration and wolven protectiveness.
And the Lykae's prince? He was the werewolf in love with Lucia. The one who had better be protecting Luce since Regin couldn't.
Before all this had happened, Regin had briefly wondered if maybe she oughtn't call them dogs or crack Cesar Millan jokes in front of them. Then she'd shrugged and said, "Neh."
At present, she felt fiercely loyal to Uilleam. She leapt to the glass. "We're going to get out of here soon. MacRieve, just hang tough!" She watched until he disappeared from view.
"Allies? We need allies?" Thad's gaze darted to the wall, as if he yearned to start banging his head again. "Have they done that to you? Are th-they going to do that to me?"
Regin looked at Natalya. "Not if I can help it."
I couldn't break the vampire.
As Declan stormed down the winding corridor, guards gave him a wide berth and researchers skittered out of his way. He heard their whispers. ...
"It was grisly, even by the Blademan's standards."
"I almost felt sorry for a leech."
By the time Declan left him, Lothaire's skin had been seared away to the bone, his body more ash than flesh. Those UV lights burned vampires the way frostbite attacked a mortal--first the extremities, then spreading up the limbs like gangrene.
Declan had been merciless.
Yet nothing he'd done could make Lothaire talk. Toward the end, all the creature would say was, "She comes, she comes. She's going to want it back. ..."
Was the "she" even real, or a hallucination?
More soldiers cleared a path, their expressions wary. Declan knew they feared him, often overheard them talking about him. Recently, he'd heard a new recruit mutter, "Chase gives me the ever-living creeps. Like he'd slit your throat just for shits and giggles."
But Declan didn't give a damn how they felt as long as they followed his orders.
As he strode down the ward, he stared down any prisoners who didn't avert their eyes. Did they sense something about him, as the vampire had? "You're no normal mortal," Lothaire had told him.
Paranoia had Declan running a gloved hand over the back of his neck.
His shite day only continued to worsen. He'd been off his game with Lothaire because of his encounter with the Valkyrie. And MacRieve's escape attempt just highlighted the security risks inherent in overcrowding.
Yet Webb continued to accept prisoners, disregarding Declan's repeated recommendations for culling. The two would discuss this soon. Either I run this place my way, or Webb should come take over.
Then Declan had a flash thought. What if Webb agreed with him--and wanted to terminate the Valkyrie?
So be it, he assured himself. Yet the idea sent a chill through him. And he didn't know why! His job, his purpose on this earth, was to destroy her kind, one at a time.
If he couldn't do it, then why was he here? Damn her, what hold did she have over him?
Tomorrow I plan to torture her. Yet I'm drawn to her, attracted to her as I've never been to another.
And he hated her for it.
THIRTEEN
Hey, fresh meat!" a Ferine demon called from his cell as a burly guard led Regin down the ward. "Not so high and mighty when you can't get to us, huh?"
Regin was cuffed, shaking off the effects of poisonous gas, and on her way to be either interrogated or vivisected.
Now demons were going to taunt her? She half-lunged, half-stumbled toward the cell.
"Easy, Valkyrie," the guard said, drawing her back in line. She believed some inmates had called him Vincente.
The demons shrank back from the glass. As she passed, she heard one say, "That Valkyrie made me eat a crab trap last summer."
Regin smirked. She'd thought she recognized him. Her smirk faded when she spied the occupant of the next cell over.
Carrow the Incarcerated, one of Regin's good friends and a party-hearty pal. The black-haired witch stood at the glass, forcing a smile. "It's like a bad hangover that won't stop, huh?"
Behind her was a sorceress Regin recognized, the Queen of Persuasion. Sorceri were tricksy, some good, some evil. "You all right in there?" Regin asked, as if she were still a badass Valkyrie bosswoman who'd fix the sitch otherwise.
Carrow nodded. "The sorceress is cool. So, you heading for an interrogation? Or an ... exam?"
Regin made with the stiff upper lip when she casually said, "Dunno. Chase or Dixon. One of them will have my foot up their ass directly." She shrugged. "Catch you on the flip side, witch."
About ten cells down from Carrow was Brandr--Aidan's kinsman. Who'd taken his vow to his leader and friend very seriously.
"Regin!" He leapt up from a bunk.
"Well, well, the gang's all here." Nix must've given him Regin's whereabouts. Again.
"I'm going to get you out of here," he said, his green eyes aglow.
She snorted. "Let me know how that works out for you, Job MacBangup." Seeing Brandr here just brought her situation into stark relief. "It's curious though--you don't usually show until it's time to bury him."
Brandr flinched, and immediately Regin felt guilty. Both of them had a role to play in this curse. Regin forever triggered Aidan's death. Brandr was forever too late to save him. No matter how hard that man tried.
Many in the Lore had begun to call him Brandr the True.
In a milder tone, she said, "You know who brought me here?"
"Yes, it's him, though I barely believe it. Regin, just hold on. I'll figure something out ..."
Vincente forced her along the corridor.
When they passed the centaur king's cell, Volos pointed at Regin and slid his forefinger across his throat.
She replied, "Hey, didn't I see you in a donkey show down in Tijuana? No? You've got a twin then--"
"Move on," Vincente said warningly.
She gazed up at the guard. He looked like an ex-prizefighter--heavyweight--with a pronounced brow, a brick-end chin, and a five-o'clock shadow that she'd bet no razor could KO. He was dark-haired, his features a compelling blend of Native American meets mafioso.
He was the first human here not to gaze at her with animosity.
"So, where are you taking me, big guy?" No answer.
Yesterday, guards had hauled Lothaire by after Chase had finished "interrogating" him. The vampire's shirt was ripped open, revealing skin seared to ash. His hooded red eyes had flashed to Regin, and he'd hissed something in Russian.
Lothaire was an enemy--one who'd hurt the Valkyrie in unimaginable ways--so it'd been impossible to muster up sympathy for him. She'd hissed back, "Do svidaniya, bitch."
Now it was Regin's turn for an appointment with either Declan or the mad scientist.
In a lower tone, she asked th
e man, "So am I going to get a zipper in my chest?"
Had there been a barely perceptible shake of his head?
"Am I about to be interrogated?"
Nothing. Shit, interrogation it is.
Soon after, he led her into an austere room with a camera in the ceiling, an obvious two-way mirror on one of the white walls, and a table with two chairs in the center.
Vincente pointed to one of the chairs, the one bolted to the floor. "Sit."
"S'all the same, I think I'll stand--"
He shoved her down, hooking her cuffs to a bar in the back of the chair, immobilizing her.
Once she was all battened down, a tech in a white lab coat entered to sink an IV into Regin's arm. The clear line snaked up to a bag, most likely filled with some kind of pharmaceutical torture juice.
Regin got the gist. The interrogator would be able to push a button and serve a dose.
After Vincente and the tech had left, Chase entered, his expression drawn, his ink-black hair still wet from a recent shower. He'd shoved it back off his smooth-shaven face, revealing more of those chiseled features, as well as the thin scars that climbed up his cheek. Dark circles marred his chilling gray eyes.
For all his faults, Declan Chase had a kind of sinister, wretched attractiveness. She took comfort in knowing that, for some reason, the man was as miserable as she currently was.
Without a word, he sat across from her. He wore his usual military threads, but today his wool pullover stretched tighter over his deep chest and broad shoulders. He was more muscled than she'd initially thought.
"Well, don't you look all butch today?" When he shot her a killing look, she stomped one foot. "What? What'd I say?" It'd been a compliment.
Up close like this, there was no mistaking his unsettling hatred. Though she'd resisted any escape plan that involved Chase remembering his past, now she realized she might have to declare him a misfire regardless.
She gazed around with a bored air. "This feels just like Law and Order. But shouldn't you lawyer up before I throw the book at you? No? So what's in the IV bag?"
"Pain poison. Taken from the Sorceri Queen of Agonies and replicated for our purposes."
A queen was a sorceress more powerful at manipulating a certain element than any other Sorceri.
Bottom line: this is gonna smart.
"Another tool cribbed from the Lore? Like with these torques. And rumor has it that this facility is mystically hidden. You use mysticism when it suits you, even though that's our realm."
