Taken by the Others

by Jess Haines

  I shuddered once the last of them was out of sight. The guy at my side gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, his words punctuated with sofft, shaky laughter. “That was really something. For a second there I thought we were toast.”

  “For some reason, Royce has a soft spot for me,” I said, my laughter wavering more than his. “It’d be a shitty way to stay in my good graces if he went and killed all the people who saved me just because they got here first.”

  He nodded, his nervousness fading as he gave me a lopsided smile. “The name’s Devon, by the way.”

  “Shiarra,” I replied, letting go of his hand and taking in the surroundings. We were in the woods. The big house–more of a mansion really–stood by itself in the forest, a whole crapload of cars parked every which way on the grassy lawn and scattered over the dirt road winding through the trees. I could see the moon peeking out between naked branches, illuminating cars in the clearing that varied from jeeps and SUVs to unassuming compacts to high-end sports cars. Where the heck did all these people come from?

  “Jack told us you needed help. He’s been … uh …”

  “Tailing me?” I guessed. Devon looked sheepish, but still nodded. Guess not all White Hats are equally crazy or use the same methods. “I figured. That’s how you guys found me so fast, huh?”

  He nodded again, clearly relieved that I wasn’t pissed. “Yeah.”

  The big guy with mahogany skin, who had come along with Jack to bully me into joining the White Hat cause a long time ago, fell into step beside us. “Jack wanted us to give you a message. He said to tell you the offer is still open, if you know what side you’re on now.”

  I thought about it. Really thought about it. As crazy as their methods might be, the White Hats knew what they were doing. I had watched them take out a vamp with my own eyes. They had experience, access to all kinds of weapons, and were willing to save my ass if an Other decided to get too up close and personal.

  “I don’t know yet,” I said as we stopped beside a beat-up jeep, its dark paint covered with scratches and dents. Devon held open the passenger-side door for me, and I pulled myself up with a groan to settle in the seat. “Give me some time.”

  Tiny grinned, a flash of white teeth against dark skin, before opening the rear door to slide into the back. “You’ve got until we get to Jack’s to figure it out.”

  Chapter 13

  The drive took forever; Devon was concentrating on driving and Tiny didn’t seem to be in a talkative mood. I didn’t recognize the area we were in, and the back roads that cut through the woods surrounding the vamp house were mostly without signs of human habitation. I didn’t see any telephone poles or power lines, so I presumed the house was extremely old, off the grid, abandoned and forgotten. Which would also explain why the only illumination in the place was from candlelight and gas lamps.

  The other White Hats were following us in four beat-up jeeps and SUVs. When we finally pulled onto a paved road, we only had to go a few blocks to get onto an expressway but I still didn’t know where we were. Then, after a long time, we pulled onto the 87, a road I recognized.

  I must have been out like a light for hours for the bad guys to drag me this far away from Queens. No wonder it took so long for Royce and the White Hats to get to me. We were way out, upstate, in the ass-end of nowhere.

  It gave me a chill to think of what might have happened if Jack hadn’t kept a tail on me. Would Max have used me as bait for Royce? Turned me into a vampire? Somehow I didn’t think he planned to keep me around for an eternity.

  I pondered where we were going once we got to the George Washington Bridge. The steel beams and cables were lit by glittering bluish lights running along their length, brighter white lights illuminating the two towers that supported the massive structure and cars trickling along both levels. Traffic on it was crawling, as usual, even at this time of night. At the peak of the graceful arch of the bridge, I studied the skyline shining with lights like stars fallen to earth, scattered all along the waterfront. With the moon hanging high in the sky and the mixed lights from the bridge and city far across the span of concrete and steel reflecting off the water below us, a deep sense of relief and calm overtook me.

  I was home.

  It took a while for us to make it into the city, and I took careful note of the streets when we exited somewhere in the Bronx. We were headed more toward the East Bronx than South, but to my surprise, we ended up on City Island, crossing a tiny three-lane bridge over Long Island Sound.

  The minuscule island held a quaint town like you’d see on a picture-perfect New England postcard. The streets were lined with shops selling high-end antiques or boating and sailing goods. Seafood restaurants abounded. Due to the hour, most, if not all, of the shops were closed. There was no traffic, and it didn’t take long until we were cruising down a back road, passing homes out of a Victorian fairy tale.

  Soon we pulled up in front of a charmingly rustic house with a gorgeous view of Eastchester Bay. The faintest scent of wood smoke was in the air, mixing with the cool, salty ocean breeze. Lights gleamed from the wide windows across the front of the house. The White Hats who had been following our lead found their own parking spots, scattered here and there along the quiet street.

  As we stepped out of the car, parked under the protectively outstretched limb of an enormous oak, someone opened the front door and stepped out on the porch to meet us. With the light from inside the house shining behind him, I couldn’t make out his features clearly, but from the slender frame and blond hair I could tell it was Jack. Clearly he’d been waiting up, expecting us.

  Jack was the last person I would have expected to live in a place like this. For one thing, his (very illegal) gun shop was in downtown Manhattan, a hell of a commute. The affluent neighborhood didn’t strike me as his thing either. Did he make enough money to afford digs like this? What was the sort of place I expected to see him living in? A spartan apartment with minimal furnishings and guns and weapons scattered around the empty floors maybe. Not a sprawling, pastoral house with wind chimes hanging from the eaves of the porch and a ship’s anchor leaning against a wooden barrel filled with sand and seashells, propped in place by a thick coil of rope.

  A wave of dizziness swept me when I stepped out of the car, and I had to clutch at the door to keep from going to my knees. Silly as it sounds, I’d forgotten how weak I was from the blood loss and wasn’t expecting the abrupt wave of nausea and vertigo that hit me. Tiny, who’d already started walking toward the house, turned back at the little cry I gave. He and Devon were soon on either side of me, supporting me so I could walk. Embarrassing, but without their help I never would’ve made it to the front door.

  “Being bitten takes a lot out of you,” one of the other White Hats commented on our way up the walk. His gruff voice was sympathetic; it occurred to me that some of these hunters might not be as crazy as I’d thought. “Once you get some fluids and protein, maybe a little rest, you’ll start feeling better. Do you know your blood type?”

  I had to think hard for a second to dredge up the answer. “O-positive.”

  Tiny said, “Jack, do we have any on ice?”

  “I think so.” He held the door for us as the guys practically carried me through. They took me into a spacious living room, setting me down on one of the plush couches. I was grateful to be off my feet; sitting down helped the dizziness pass. Even better, they put me in the spot closest to the stone fireplace, which was radiating blessedly welcome warmth from a brightly burning stack of logs.

  The other White Hats filed in, taking seats or disappearing deeper into the house. Jack stood across from me, a low coffee table between us. He was eyeing me speculatively, disapproval written all over his features. Knowing Jack, I’d bet dollars to donuts he thought I’d wanted to be bitten. “We’ll get you something to eat and drink in a moment. Did Max make you drink any of his blood?”

  The thought alone made me gag. Making a face, I shakily sat up a bit more in the thick cu
shions. One of the other White Hats sidled closer, taking my arm. I was a little slow on the uptake, not thinking to pull away before he jabbed me with a needle and took some blood. Like I hadn’t lost enough of that already. I glared ineffectually after him as he disappeared around a corner.

  Jack cleared his throat, bringing my attention back to him. “Well? Did he?”

  I growled out my response. “No. Of course not, that’s disgusting.”

  Tension I hadn’t noticed at first suddenly left him relaxed and smiling. He wasn’t glaring at me anymore. Huzzah.

  “You’re right, it is disgusting. It’s also how a vampire bonds a still-living human to them, and part of the process of turning you into one of them. You’re sure?”

  I had to swallow back bile at the thought. “I’m sure.”

  “Excellent. Our facilities aren’t the best, but we have a makeshift hospital set up in the basement here. Dr. Morrow will give you a transfusion once he’s prepared the equipment. I’ll let you get some rest, but in the morning I’d like to get the details on what happened.”

  “Sure.”

  He nodded sharply and backed away, settling into an empty seat and falling into quiet discussion with Tiny about the events of the evening. I found myself looking around curiously.

  It seemed Jack had a thing for the beach. There were shells and miniature sailboats lining the mantel, and on the whitewashed wall, a gorgeous oil painting of a harbor with hundreds of boats lining the beach. The floors were honeyed pine varnished and waxed to a pale golden glow, and the furniture was upholstered in dark blue with treated wooden accents slightly darker than the floors. There were bookshelves with books on sailing and the sea, more little boats, some large pieces of frosty sea glass, and even a tall jar with sand and brightly colored seashells inside. All in all, a cozy, lovely place. It completely skewed my impression of him and his hunting buddies.

  Said hunting buddies did look out of place in that bright, cheerful sailing enthusiast’s haven, what with all the leather, fatigues, and combat boots. Not to mention the weapons bristling from every pocket, peeking out from under jackets or casually propped up beside chairs. They all looked tired and drained. A couple guys appeared to have fallen asleep in their seats.

  Devon, who had disappeared into one of the other rooms after helping me to the couch, reappeared carrying a tray. A tall, slender woman dressed in hunter’s garb accompanied him. She introduced herself as Nikki. They offered me sandwiches, which I didn’t feel much like eating, but the hot tea with honey and lemon that Devon pressed into my hands was welcome.

  “Drink that, then I’ll help you downstairs,” he said.

  I did as I was told, closing my eyes as I sipped at the tea. There was a faint medicinal undertone to it that made me wonder what he’d laced it with.

  A few minutes later, Tiny was nudging my shoulder. The soft murmur of conversations between the other hunters in the background–or whatever was in the tea–had lulled me to the edge of sleep. “You still awake?”

  “Ugh. Yeah.” Opening my eyes was phenomenally difficult.

  He grinned down at me, holding out a hand. “Let’s go see Dr. Morrow. Then you can sleep as long as you want.”

  I nodded wearily, taking his outstretched hand in both of mine. He engulfed my fingers with his, bringing me up to my feet. I stumbled along with Jack, Devon, Tiny, and the hunter woman hovering over me. They helped me down the wide wooden staircase into the basement, which had been converted into a tiny hospital complete with beds, IV drips, and even lab equipment. Squinting against the harsh fluorescent track lighting, I spotted two other “patients.” They were swaddled up in clean sheets and warm blankets, both fast asleep. I could see that the leg of one was in traction. The left forearm of the other was sprawled across his chest, showing bloodstains seeping through white gauze wrapped around it. It was the guy who had been bitten in the hallway while we were escaping.

  Tiny lifted me up, despite some protest on my part, and laid me out on one of the empty gurneys. A short, bookish-looking Asian man with thick glasses, who reminded me a great deal of Arnold, came to the bedside. He was pushing an IV drip with saline solution and packaged blood already hooked up.

  “Shiarra Waynest, right? I’m Dr. Morrow.”

  I tried to keep my eyes open as I returned his warm smile. “Hi.”

  “I don’t know if you remember me. I treated you for shock after that fight you had at the Embassy Suites.”

  “You did?” I blinked, trying to recall. Everything, from my thoughts to my vision, was hazy. Whatever they put in the tea was working fast.

  “Mm-hmm. Just lie back, relax, and I’ll start the transfusion.”

  His voice was soothing enough that I did what he said without protest. A pinprick in my arm made me wince, but that was all. I was incredibly tired, but somehow managed to stay awake and listen to Jack and Dr. Morrow talk about me like I wasn’t there.

  “Any idea how much blood she lost?”

  “No,” the doctor said, sounding concerned. “It must have been a lot to cause such a severe reaction. She’s lucky we had some of her type on ice.”

  Jack sighed. “How long before she’s on her feet, do you think?”

  “She should have at least four or five days of bed rest. I want to keep an eye on her for a few days in case there are any complications. Don’t push her, Jack. I know what you’re thinking, and she’s not ready for it. Not by a long shot.”

  “We’ve had other hunters bitten and up on their feet the next day.”

  “Leave it alone. A quick bite is a lot easier to treat and recover from than being drained from a prolonged feeding like this.” Dr. Morrow sounded irritated. It was too hard to open my eyes to see, so I just listened. I could picture the little frown lines appearing between his eyebrows, and found the idea of the smaller man glaring at Jack comical. “A bit more and they might have killed her. Don’t you find it odd that she’s still having a hard time finding her balance even though it’s been hours already? That she practically needed to be carried down the stairs? Trust me on this. She’s not ready for what you want.”

  Jack cursed, and I heard the sound of a few pairs of feet tromping away. Devon’s voice surprised me; I would have thought he’d left with the others. “Will she be okay?”

  “Yes,” Dr. Morrow said, more tired than annoyed now. “She should be fine given some rest and time to recuperate. I’m just afraid Jack won’t wait that long.”

  Devon’s voice followed me into the blessed dark of unconsciousness. “I don’t think any of us can wait that long. We need her.”

  Chapter 14

  “For the last time, I need to go home!” I shouted, struggling to sit up on the gurney. “People are looking for me!”

  “And for the last time, you are staying put! Doctor’s orders!”

  Devon was laughing at my efforts to sit up, easily pushing me back down thanks to how weak and shaky I was. I’d swear his eyes were positively twinkling with laughter. The patient with the busted leg was also chuckling, not helping my bruised ego any. The guy who’d had his arm bitten was back on his feet and upstairs with the other hunters, so it was just the three of us down here in the basement.

  With a low growl of irritation, I sank back, too exhausted to keep fighting. It was great that someone sawed the chain apart while I was asleep, but I found myself rubbing impatiently at the cuffs locked on my wrists. Feeling the stupid things chafing my skin made me feel trapped, like my brush with death had only been temporarily delayed.

  It didn’t help that I felt cut off from my friends and family in this makeshift hospital. Without my cell phone, I didn’t have any phone numbers with me. I was starting to regret not keeping them memorized. I could wait for Jen to get in the office tomorrow morning or somehow get to my computer. There should be an e-mail somewhere with Arnold’s phone number. Sara and Arnold both had Chaz’s number. I should call Officer Lerian, too; the police were undoubtedly looking for me, especially with Royce’s enc
ouragement.

  “Look, if you need something that badly, one of us can go pick it up for you.”

  I shook my head, making the tape holding gauze over the bite marks crinkle. No way was I going to give anyone connected to the White Hats the passwords to unlock my computer. Even Sara, who is the sister I never had, doesn’t get access to my e-mails.

  “What will you tell the police if they’re staking the place out and see you trying to break in? ‘Hi, Officers, just trying to pick up some stuff for the lady who was kidnapped yesterday. Nope, can’t take you back to the White Hat supersecret hideout, where she’s recovering from an unreported vampire assault. So sorry.’ ”

  Bo, the guy who had his leg in traction, was laughing heartily. “Admit it, Devon, she’s right. Even you couldn’t charm the cops with that one.”

  A lopsided grin curved Devon’s lips while he rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, okay, I get the point. I guess I can take you there. Dr. Morrow won’t be happy about it, though. Neither will Jack.”

  “Jack can kiss my ass.”

  “Not a very nice thing to say, missy,” Bo said. “If he hadn’t been keeping an eye on you, there’s a good chance you might be dead right now.”

  I shrugged uncomfortably, pulling at a loose string on the button-down shirt I had to borrow from Jack since my T-shirt got trashed with blood stains. “Royce showed up shortly after you guys did. He would’ve gotten me out of there.”

  Devon tilted his head to one side, curious. “How is it that you came to be a hunter but still deal with Alec Royce? He’s practically king of the vampires. I’m surprised he lets you live.”