Pamela Palmer - [Vamp City 02]

by A Kiss of Blood

  Quinn’s stomach clenched.

  Arturo took her hand. “She will remain at the castle with you, Fabian, as you wish. But while I am here, I would have her remain by my side. It brings me pleasure.”

  Fabian’s eyes narrowed as his gaze moved between them. His mouth tightened. But, finally, he nodded grudgingly. “While you are here, she is yours.”

  Her hand clung to Arturo’s, her heart still pounding though the effects of the elixir appeared to have dissipated with their lovemaking.

  “I must take my leave, for now, and search for the sorceress, Fabian,” Arturo said calmly, his voice still husky with lingering passion.

  “Later,” the vampire master snapped. “Sit and fondle her. I am not through with you two.”

  Arturo’s hand tensed around hers, but he did as commanded, pulling her onto his lap as the other inhabitants of the room resumed their inventive rutting. She curled her arm around Arturo’s neck and stiffened only a little when his hand went to her breast, fondling her through her clothes. Despite the multiple orgasms, despite the elixir’s effects having worn off, her body lit up again with that simple touch. And beneath her hip, she felt his erection once more begin to rise.

  Fabian was never going to let them out of here. And, at this rate, Vintry was going to die before they ever got a chance to talk to him.

  If he wasn’t already dead.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was another hour, and three orgasms later, before Fabian finally acceded to Arturo’s thinly veiled demand to find “Jillian” food and a bedchamber in which to sleep.

  “See her fed, then return to me at once, Mazza,” Fabian called, as they reached the door behind their guard escort. “Our feast awaits!”

  They’d no sooner entered the back hallway when another guard stepped forward.

  “I’ll take them from here.”

  Quinn immediately recognized the voice if not the man. Micah.

  The original guard nodded and left.

  “I found Vintry,” Micah said when they were out of earshot of the guard. He looked nothing like himself, his hair long and blond, his face broad as a bowling ball. His glamour was pretty amazing. Then again, so was her own. “He’s in the dungeon, locked in a cell in the very back. Alone. They’re afraid of his death wind. Access is through the second pantry, behind the wine casks, but I’ve yet to find the key to his cell.”

  Micah was speaking fast and low. “I asked him if he could help the sorceress, and he said yes, he could, but he would not. He hates vampires, wants us all to die, etc., etc. Then he started yelling bloody murder for me to leave. A bitter old cuss.”

  “I’d probably be bitter, too, if someone locked me in a dungeon to die,” Arturo muttered. “We’ll have to grab him out of there and run. Perhaps Tarellia can convince him to help us.”

  “You’ll be implicated in his sudden disappearance. But you can spin it easily enough.”

  “I can. Find us an empty bedchamber close to the dungeon where we can set up base.”

  “Already done.” He led them down a second hall with far too many doors, which meant the rooms were microscopic. Probably the Slavas’ quarters. Pushing open one of the last doors, Micah stepped back for them to enter.

  The room was just as she’d expected, a dingy little closet with a tiny bed that took up the majority of space. She took a seat on it since there was so little room to stand.

  Arturo’s hand rested on her shoulder, but he turned back to Micah. “I must return to Fabian for the feast, but once it is done, we’ll move. Find the key.”

  “Roger that.”

  Arturo squeezed her shoulder. “Stay here, cara. I’ll find you food. You should be safe here.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on her,” Micah promised.

  Quinn wasn’t entirely sure she wanted Micah keeping an eye on her. There was no way she was sitting here twiddling her thumbs while Arturo attended Fabian. Not when Vintry could be freeing her magic and might die at any moment.

  As Arturo started for the door, the sound of a commotion erupted nearby, along with the unmistakable sound of a crying child.

  Arturo froze.

  “What’s a kid doing here?” Micah muttered.

  The two vampires strode forward as one. Quinn pushed off the bed and followed, horrified at the thought of a child’s witnessing, let alone experiencing, anything that happened in Vamp City.

  They didn’t have to go far to find the source of the disturbance. A couple of doors down, the hall crossed with another. As they turned, Quinn caught sight of the two pantries Micah had mentioned, one with wine casks in the back.

  A short distance farther, the hall opened into a huge kitchen. Standing in front of the door at the back, a trembling young woman cradled a towheaded boy. He couldn’t be more than three or four, tears running down his cheeks as he hiccuped with sobs.

  The pair were flanked by men Quinn assumed to be vampires, talking to a third dressed in guard’s black.

  One of the vamps smiled. “Found them outside, just wandering around. They must have escaped the Traders.”

  Arturo’s eyes narrowed, tension stiffening his shoulders even as his face took on a casual, curious expression.

  “Has the ban on children been lifted, then?” he asked with mild curiosity bordering on indifference. An indifference she sensed was wholly faked.

  “Apparently so,” the guard said, “since they were declared fodder for the next Games.”

  Fodder. Children . . . toddlers . . . sent into the arena to die?

  Quinn swayed, grasping the nearest wall. Her gaze flew to Arturo as he and Micah exchanged looks, something passing silently between them. A question, a nod, a shrug.

  “I’ve seen those two,” Micah said, stepping forward. “They were running from Sakamoto’s contingent several hours ago. I’d have grabbed them myself, but those who steal from Sakamoto have a bad habit of turning up dead.”

  The two vampires blanched. Sakamoto sounded a lot like Cristoff.

  “They were alone,” one of the two complained. “We didn’t steal them.”

  “I’m heading out now to do a perimeter check. I’ll see if the contingent is still out there and hand them back before Sakamoto declares war on Fabian’s Palace.”

  The vampire pair stepped away from the woman and child like they’d suddenly become radioactive. “Sure, sure. Take them.”

  The woman stared around her, visibly shaken, pale as snow and clinging to her toddler for dear life. But to her credit, she wasn’t crying or begging. Just trying to figure out how to keep her and her son alive.

  “Come along,” Micah said, gripping the woman’s arm lightly. Quinn thought she saw him wink at the woman. “You don’t belong here.”

  The woman didn’t fight him, allowing him to steer her out the back door.

  Arturo stepped forward. “My Slava is in need of food,” he bellowed, drawing all attention. “Where can I get food?”

  Most who’d gathered to witness the commotion dispersed. One woman hurried to him with a sandwich on a plate and a can of Coke. Arturo took them from her and walked away, brushing past Quinn without a glance.

  Playing her role, Quinn followed him as meekly as she could manage back to her bedroom. But the moment she closed the door, she dropped the façade. “What’s Micah going to do with them?”

  Arturo handed her the plate, then opened the Coke for her, cocking his head in challenge. “What do you think a vampire will do with two fresh humans?”

  Rolling her eyes, she took the Coke. “He’s either going to set them free or take them somewhere safe.”

  “You’re so certain?” The look in his eyes told her that her answer mattered. Very much.

  “Yes, I’m certain. I saw the look on your face when you heard that kid, Arturo. You turned to stone.”

  “Children do not belong in Vamp City.” His brows drew down in an expression of bafflement. “It is the law. It was the law. No children. Ever. When did it change? When did everything
change?”

  Now it was her turn to cock her head. “Your reaction was more than annoyance at unauthorized rule breaking. You were horrified.”

  “Yes.” Arturo met her gaze for a long moment before answering her first question. “We are a quarter of a mile from the Boundary Circle. He’ll find a way to set them free.”

  Thank God. But her curiosity was peaked. “You feel a certain protectiveness toward kids, don’t you?”

  “They deserve a chance to grow up.”

  She sensed there was more to his reaction. The situation had hit a nerve, but he clearly didn’t feel like talking about it with her. Not here. Not now.

  She picked up her sandwich. “Micah won’t be able to get that key, now, will he?”

  “Not yet, no. Unless he runs into trouble, he’ll be back very soon.”

  As if trouble didn’t stalk them at every turn.

  Arturo eased past her. “I have to return to Fabian. Sleep, if you can. I’ll fetch you when I am able. Lock the door as soon as I leave.”

  “Enjoy your dinner.”

  With a small smile, Arturo left, closing the door behind him.

  Quinn got up and threw the dead bolt, one hundred percent certain it wouldn’t actually keep out a vampire who wanted in. But it might dissuade one who didn’t want to suffer Fabian’s displeasure.

  Returning to the bed, she wolfed down the sandwich and Coke. She was exhausted, desperately in need of sleep. But Vintry was still alive and might not stay that way much longer.

  Her pulse began to escalate as she formulated a plan. Not only were there vampires out there, but most of them were males with no compunction about taking what they wanted from any human, female or otherwise. Especially a Slava.

  She palmed her switchblade, opened the door, and peered cautiously down the hallway. When she saw no one, she stepped out, closing the door behind her, and strode the short distance to the second pantry, then ducked inside and slipped back to the wine casks visible in the light flickering in from one of the small wall torches in the hallway.

  She found the door behind the casks just as Micah had described. Though wooden and old, it was well oiled and barely made a sound when she pulled it open. But whatever lay beyond was dark as a crypt. She was going to need a light.

  Stealing across the hall, she pulled one of the torches out of its holder, hoping no one would miss it before she returned. Once again, she made her way to the cellar door and pulled it open. Her light illuminated a long, wooden stair and a dark void beyond. A tingle of dread danced down her spine, though she found it reassuring that Micah had just been down there and lived to tell the tale.

  Then again, Micah was a vampire.

  Swallowing her trepidation, she closed the door behind her and descended the stairs to the hard-packed dirt floor. Lifting her torch, she saw that the path led out from the stairs a good hundred feet, lined on either side by rows and rows of prison cells.

  Though she listened, she heard no noise. Another chill skittered down her spine, and magic began to buzz lightly beneath her skin as she strode down the path, glancing into each cell. Empty, every one. Until she reached the very last.

  She found the old fae lying on a pallet on the floor. He appeared small in stature, his hair almost gone, his skin as wrinkled and leathery as any ancient male’s, though this one was far more ancient than any she’d come across in the real world. He was wearing worn brown trousers and a flannel shirt that looked as if it hadn’t left his body in several decades. His feet were bare, and he had one arm flung across his eyes. What a lonely, sad way to die.

  “Douse the damned light,” he growled.

  “Vintry?”

  “What do you want?”

  Spying a torch holder on the wall a few cells down, she planted the torch and returned to Vintry’s cell, now cast into shadow.

  “Tarellia said you might be able to help me.”

  “She lied.”

  Dying and bitter, just as Micah said. Not that she could blame him. “I know you’d just as soon Vamp City failed. But what will happen to the other fae if it does?” she asked softly.

  “What do I care?”

  Biting back her frustration, Quinn launched into the truth. “I’m a sorceress, Vintry. Apparently the sorceress. Maybe the only one left.”

  The old fae’s arm moved, his head turning to peer at her through rheumy eyes. “You?” He couldn’t have put any more derogatory disbelief into the word if he’d tried. The little prick.

  “It’s true. And my brother has somehow gotten tangled up in my magic. He’s suffering from a magic sickness, and if Vamp City dies, he will, too. I’ll do anything to keep that from happening.”

  He turned back, covering his eyes again. “I can’t help you. Go away.”

  Not a chance. “Tarellia believes I have both Blackstone and Levenach blood. That my Blackstone magic is being obstructed by the Levenach curse. That as long as it is, I’ll never have any real control of my magic. She believes you can help me break my Blackstone magic free of the curse.”

  Once again, Vintry lowered his arm and peered at her, but this time, the look on his face was different. Almost intrigued. “Blackstone and Levenach, eh? What’s your name, girl?”

  “Quinn Lennox.”

  His eyes narrowed, but he was no longer scowling at her. “Do you have the key to my cell?”

  “No.”

  Her heart leaped as he pushed himself slowly and stiffly from the bed, his body bent and arthritic. “Damned aging,” he muttered as he crossed the floor and gripped the bars tight with one hand as if to stabilize himself. Then he held out his hand. “Put your hand through, girl. This might hurt.”

  She eyed him warily, but did as he asked. Wrinkled, gnarled, surprisingly warm fingers curled around hers as the old fae closed his eyes. Quinn stared at him, noting the profusion of age spots, the wisps of hair, the hook of a nose. His ears, she noted, had the slightest point at their tips, making her smile. He really was an elf. She was holding hands with an elf.

  Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. He stared at her, his eyes, amazingly, filling with tears as he began to smile. “I thought I’d missed you.”

  “Excuse me?” She resisted the desire to pull her hand away.

  “You are the one foretold, girl. The Healer.” He patted her hand as she stared at him in stunned confusion. A gleam leaped into his eyes. “Is the snake with you?”

  “Arturo? Yes. How . . . ?” Maybe Micah had mentioned him.

  Suddenly, the old fae’s eyes went wide, and he jerked away, stumbling back. But as he stared at her, his face softened with understanding, and he began to laugh. “Glamour.”

  She jerked her gaze down to her hand, her pale true hand. “Shit.”

  Vintry waved his hand. “Return with the snake, and him alone, and I will help you. He must be here, too.” He turned away and began making his way back to the bed. “Now go!” he admonished, though his voice was warm this time. “Take the light with you. And don’t delay, or I’ll be dead.” He began to cackle.

  Quinn turned away, relieved, and more than a little dazed. The Healer? At least Vintry had agreed to help. The trouble was going to be getting Arturo away from Fabian in time. Oh, and the small fact that she’d lost her glamour. Again.

  At least her room was close by. Quinn made her way swiftly up the stairs to the pantry, briefly debating whether to leave the torch in the prison instead of taking it with her, and decided against it. Vintry didn’t want the light, and she’d need it to make her way through the pantry since she’d removed the light that had shone into the space in the first place.

  Hearing nothing through the closed door, Quinn opened it slowly, wishing to hell she still looked like Neo’s sister, then slipped into the pantry and closed the door behind her. The torch holder sat on the wall just across the hall, taunting her. Because as long as she held the torch, there was no hiding.

  Squaring her shoulders, she stepped into the hallway and nearly ran into two passing vampire
guards. Dammit.

  “Who are you?” one of them demanded.

  Quinn froze, heart pounding as she debated her options and came up with not a single decent one. Throw the torch at them and run? Right. Vampires were lightning fast. She could demand to be taken to Arturo, but admitting she’d been hiding behind a glamour, that he’d had the sorceress with him all along, would, best case, get them thrown out of the castle. Worst case . . . she didn’t even want to think about it.

  Going with instinct, she threw the torch at the nearest guard and pulled her switchblade. In the blink of an eye . . . a human eye . . . the torch was back in its holder, her blade was gone from her hand, and her wrist was caught tight in a vampire’s hold. Too damn fast.

  The vamp who held her began to smile. “She’s a freshie, Bill. What’s a freshie doing sneaking around our pantry?” He leered at her. “Trying to steal food from us, girlie?”

  Quinn’s heart began to pound. Magic started to tingle beneath her skin, but not quickly enough.

  The guard turned to the hallway she’d first come down and pulled her along with him, striding fast and sure as if he knew exactly where to take her.

  Her mind grasped for ideas even as she worried that Arturo would feel her emotions, her fear, and come for her, giving himself away. There was no fighting the vampires to get free. And she could think of nothing she could say that would help her. With dismay, she realized where the guard was leading her seconds before they entered the orgy dojo. The smell of sex hit her hard, along with the coppery scent of blood. Almost every vampire in the room had his fangs in someone, if not his cock.

  Including Arturo.

  She found him on the chaise where they’d metaphorically blown the roof off with their orgasms, a naked woman draped across his lap, his arm around her waist as he drank from her neck. He, at least, was fully clothed and appeared to be doing nothing but drinking.

  Though he continued to feed, his eyes lifted as she entered the room, spearing her. She felt, rather than saw his surprise and his frustration with her. If she’d stayed in the room where he’d left her, losing her glamour wouldn’t have mattered. No one would have seen her. But that was water under the proverbial bridge and she was in a boatload of trouble.