The nice thing about not being Acrien was not having to do what Wade told him. And the nice thing about being in Abandon with a broken phone was that he wouldn’t have to do what Angela Estrada told him. He was a free agent until he checked in. And at the moment, he had better things to do.
“All due respect, Wade, but tend your own business.”
The younger vampire threw up his hands. “What is the point of being leader of this clan if no one listens to me?”
Serena ignored him and spoke to Will, “You’re going after her?”
“I am.”
She glanced at Wade hesitantly.
The young leader dragged a hand over his face. “Yes, I know. You are too. Fine, give me a couple hours, let’s gather who’s left. Strength in whatever numbers remain us.” He glared at Will. “Can you bear to wait for us?”
Twelve hours. Stretching longer, nearly thirteen now. “I’ll give you one hour. No more.”
Wade grumbled under his breath and stalked into the crumbling apartment building.
“We’re going to find her, aren’t we, Will?”
“We will.” He sounded so much more sure than he was. But they would, he was sure of it. He just prayed it wouldn’t be too late.
∞∞∞
Rene woke slowly to find it had not been a nightmare. She should have known better than to hope. Vampires didn’t dream.
Moonlight slanted across the floor, but it hadn’t come close to her spot in the corner yet. She winced and rolled her stiff shoulders. Vampires weren’t supposed to get backaches either. She started to stand and hissed, falling back to the floor abruptly as her leg gave out. A mewling cry escaped her throat against her will as she looked down to see the burn had blistered in the middle, with the edges crispy like overdone bacon.
Fists clenching, she eyed the door again. The person or persons responsible for her current state of affairs were going to die. As soon as she was able to stand. Maybe sooner. Gritting her teeth, Rene reached to pull herself up against the wall, carefully leaning her weight on the good leg. She limped toward the bars, using the wall for support. Once she reached them, Rene peeked her head about halfway through. She was in a hall of sorts, carved out of dirt and stone. At each end of the narrow hall was a set of stairs leading up. The stairways were dark, but the hall in between was bathed in watery moonlight. The other cells were spaced with two-foot-thick stone between them. The one across from hers was empty, but she couldn’t see into the others. She counted six in total.
It wasn’t the Catacombs. The prison that lay beneath the immortal City of Genocide had been carved into a bedrock of iridium and housed creatures of all shapes and sizes who had broken Hadrian’s Laws and were judged to be unfit for society, but not bad enough to kill. She had never seen the Catacombs herself, but Tanner had described them once. Between his description and the rumors abounding in the immortal gossip chain, the Catacombs were a labyrinthine hellhole one could only hope to escape with a guide. The place she currently found herself residing in wasn’t intimidating in the slightest. The bars in front of her seemed rather weak and spaced too widely. If she tried, she might be able to fit between them.
No guard was posted inside the prison. She eyed the bars, then the hall. This couldn’t keep her caged. Even hurt. As soon as she found something to sink her teeth into, she was out of there. Gripping the bars, Rene closed her eyes and listened. No, nothing else resided down there with her. Except for a couple of rats. If one came close enough . . . she made a face. No, she couldn’t drink from an animal, let alone a rat. Disease carriers. And animal blood . . . her stomach heaved.
Beyond the prison, she could hear a few heartbeats. They were fast and too warm. Werewolves. A long, low hiss escaped her throat. They were going to die. All of them.
The only other creatures she heard were the owls in a nearby forest, and a few dumb deer straying far too close to a werewolf settlement.
A werewolf settlement.
Her eyes flew open again. Werewolves didn’t have settlements. They were campers at best, nomads. They followed the food, the thrill of the hunt. Typically, they steered clear of big cities. Werewolves didn’t settle down in one spot and start a village.
Where in the hell was she?
“Hey!” she shouted through the bars. No time like the present to find out.
No one answered, nothing stirred.
“Where in the fuck am I?!”
Silence.
“You idiot moon-howlers, why do you have me in here?! Oy, don’t ignore me when I’m shouting at you, mangy flea-bags!”
Holding tight to the bars to support her weight, Rene pulled at them to rip them free. If no one was going to answer her questions, she’d take them up the chain. Find the Alpha.
Except, the bars didn’t move.
Admittedly, she might have been weaker than she realized. Her head felt light and her veins were chilled.
“Let me out, you stupid sons of bitches!”
Too weak to escape, too angry to sit quietly, Rene shouted until she ran out of insults. Then she spent her time thinking up new ones. And shouted those too. If only she had a pad of paper, or her cell phone. Some of them were really good. Hopefully she didn’t forget them before she could tell Serena.
No one came, either to rescue her or tell her to shut the hell up.
Chapter 18
Rene woke after dawn, when the cell began to grow warm and the morning rays of sun filtered through the bars, gently caressing the wall opposite her. The sight of it burned her eyes and she covered her face with her hands. She had slept long and like the dead. Her body should have healed while she slept, but the lack of fresh blood in her system was a problem.
The burn on her ankle was still open, blistered and oozing thickly. Her side where she’d been stabbed ached fiercely, though a cursory examination showed that the wound had at least closed. The interior damage hadn’t been able to complete healing, and she worried it might be infected. Two hundred years had trained her to expect certain things of her body. She took for granted being whole by the time she woke up. Without a fresh meal, that simply couldn’t happen.
Without it, she was too weak to shimmer, too weak to break out . . . she was pathetically close to being human at the moment.
As the sun crept down the opposite wall, creakings and voices started to filter through the bars above her head. Like a camp slowly waking up. Door hinges squeaked, murmured conversations were had, faucets turned. Rene listened intently, but didn’t dare peek through the sunlight bathed bars. Heartbeats thundered by, too fast and too warm to be human. Would she be forced to make do? Forced to bite one of those wet-dog, musty moonlight wolves?
She gagged and closed her eyes. If it was between that and dying here, she’d do it. But she’d brush her teeth for twelve hours straight right after.
A sound echoed through the prison, a latch bolt being lifted, a heavy door swinging on iron hinges. Steps down the stairs. A snarl ripped from her throat and she was on her feet—well, foot—against the back wall in a second. Two sets of footsteps made their way through the hall, heavy and sure. The smell of wolf intensified.
Two large men, wolves in human form, stopped before her cell. The first, a six-foot three-inch mass of muscle and bright red scraggly hair, looked on her with curiosity. He stroked his long red beard a moment before turning to the other. “Just a scrap of a thing, isn’t she? Wouldn’t have believed she could cause so much trouble.”
“I don’t believe brute force is as much a factor for their kind.” The other man’s size was diminished only by the goliath standing next to him. A few inches shorter, and not quite as broad, his long black hair was drawn back from his face and his beard was well-trimmed and full. His dark eyes were sharp on Rene, cataloging her every movement.
The red man nodded thoughtfully, his gaze returning to Rene. “Have you sent word that we have her?”
“Yes.”
“Will he be here in time for the blood moon?”
“No,�
� the black-haired wolf said. “The pack is still in Hopedale, though I expect they will leave today.”
“Then it will be at least a few weeks, maybe more.” He regarded her with a critical eye. “She won’t last that long, in her condition.”
“We could move her to a darker cell.”
“No. I prefer her weakened, but the blood loss will be a problem.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Good. And Silas?” The red man turned to go. “Bring me the idiots who stabbed her.”
The black-haired man stayed behind a moment after the other left.
Rene was still against the back wall, her upper lip lifted in a silent snarl.
“He might never have found you, you know.” He looked at her almost sadly.
She hissed at him. Sunlight touched the floor near him, or she might have rushed the bars.
If you’d stayed in the shadows.”
∞∞∞
Three days on the move, following the wolf scent. The path had broken up more than once. The wolves were careful. The pack had gone off as one, but they split in two directions soon after. Will was able to pick up just the barest scent of her; blood splashed on the leaves of the forest, the hint of freesia. When the trail split yet again, three ways this time, it was more difficult to track. He’d chosen one option, only to backtrack an hour later. She’d stopped bleeding.
The scent was over a day old by that point. He paced for an hour between the remaining two trails. Three wolves had gone one way, two the other. They had to have carried her off, there was no other tracks, nothing to match her size eight shoes.
Serena watched him too closely. Her eyes were a weight on his shoulders, his neck, digging under his hair and into his scalp. Will rolled his neck and crouched once more in the dirt, praying for something. A sign. Anything. Not that the Big Guy really was on speaking terms with him these days. They’d had words in the past. Will was willing to forget that, if only he could find her. Alive. Or, as alive as their kind got.
“The trail is cold, Will,” Wade said from somewhere behind him. “You’ll have to choose one and hope it’s right.”
The growl rolled out of his throat without conscious thought on his part. Their minuscule party of the eight remaining Acrien vampires was finding it more and more difficult to keep up this charade. None of them believed they would find Rene. None of them really cared. Rene hadn’t made friends in her new clan, much as she hadn’t made friends in her old clan. Only Serena regarded him with hope now. Wade was getting irritated, but he was too inexperienced to successfully pull rank on the small party.
Angela Estrada would have to make that his next training lesson in leadership. How to make people listen when you bossed them around. Will had a feeling it would go something like, “Tell them what to do. If they don’t, behead them. No, not figuratively. If anyone else balks, behead them too.” He smiled to himself. There was something to be said for the medieval vampires after all; their subordinates listened.
“Will,” Serena said softly from just behind his shoulder.
He resisted the urge to startle. She moved quieter than a ninja.
“I’m afraid he’s right, you’ll just have to pick one.”
But if he was wrong . . . He couldn’t fail her twice. Twice in one week. East or West. That was his choice. Closing his eyes, he thought of her face. Angry, telling him just what she thought of him and his heart. His soul clenched around the image of her. He didn’t know which way to go. Not one of his supernatural senses would rise to this occasion.
“West,” he said. And instantly regretted it.
Chapter 19
The higher the sun rose, the harder it was to stand. It crept across the cell much as it had the day prior, inching its way toward her. By afternoon, Rene once again found herself curled tight against the wall.
She was exhausted once it set, from nothing more than holding herself in the tightest ball she could manage. As the last ray disappeared from her cell, Rene collapsed in relief. She didn’t get long to relax. The sound of the prison door opening and footsteps down the stairs put her back on alert. Mind foggy and muscles aching, she still managed to stand up and face whatever the new threat might be.
The dark wolf, the one the other had called Silas, strode down the hall towing an elderly looking woman. Rene’s nose twitched at the scent of death that lingered on the human. More than half her weight was supported on the werewolf’s shoulder as he came to a stop in front of Rene’s cell. The human’s eyes were nearly shut and she seemed to be even more exhausted than Rene.
Rene glanced at the werewolf’s face as he unlocked the cell. Her mind screamed at her to rush him, but her fuzzy senses and aching muscles—not to mention the ankle that was still badly burned—warned she wouldn’t get far. The settlement was filled with werewolves. Healthy, vampire-hating werewolves. In her current state, she didn’t even think she’d get past the first one.
His dark eyes were knowing as he shook his head at her and carefully maneuvered the dying woman into the cell. The tension in his shoulders told her he wasn’t quite sure Rene had come to the same conclusion about her current state of affairs.
Rene hissed at him under her breath, but stayed still.
Closing and locking the cell, he crossed his meaty arms. “I wouldn’t wait long, shadow-lurker. She won’t be fresh much longer.”
“She isn’t fresh now.” Rene’s voice shot across the room like a barbed whip.
He shrugged and walked out of the hall.
Rene stared at the white-haired crone lying weakly against the hard stone wall near the entrance. Dressed in a diaphanous white gown, her hair sticking out at angles and no shoes . . . She looked as though she had just been lifted from a hospital bed and laid down in a nightmare. Her breathing was shallow and labored.
She may have been short on blood, but Rene was not one to be drawn to the scent of death. She craved life, youth, refreshingly hot blood. This poor old woman, this grandmother, held no appeal. Rene felt the base of her fangs aching in spite of that fact, felt her muscles bunching in preparation to pounce. Her body knew what her mind avoided. Blood was blood. She needed strength, she needed to heal. And as the werewolf had said, if she waited too long out of choosiness, she would be sucking cold blood from a dead body.
Tongue too thick in her throat, she gagged at the thought.
“Fine,” she muttered and crossed the cell slowly. It wasn’t just her damaged ankle slowing her down, she didn’t want to scare the old woman. Normally Rene wouldn’t bother with soothing her victims, but normally they were young ne’er-do-well men who had her brand of retribution coming. The old woman opened her clouded pale eyes as Rene approached.
“Miriam?” she whispered.
Rene halted.
“Have you come to take me home?”
Her throat tightened further. She couldn’t do it.
“Miriam, come closer. Won’t you put your arms around me when you do it?”
“Shit-fire.” Rene put her face in her hands. She would just sit next to the old woman, let her go in peace. She wasn’t even hungry. She wasn’t.
Her fangs ached mournfully.
Lowering herself to the ground next to the old woman, she stopped breathing entirely to block out the scent of impending death. The woman reached out one trembling hand to her, but seemed without the strength to do more. Rene scooted closer. “Shh, grandmother. It will be time soon.” Her own fingers weren’t all that steady as she took the woman’s hand. It was nearly as cold as her own skin. She could feel the blood pump sluggishly through the old woman’s tired veins.
“Miriam, will it be warm there?”
Rene closed her eyes. Leaning her head back against the wall she whispered, “God, I hope so.”
They sat in silence for a time until the woman fell asleep. Rene opened her eyes and stared down at the frail skin that covered bones and little else. Gently she squeezed the woman’s hand. “You deserve better. I’m sorry.” Lea
ning down, she pressed her teeth as smoothly as she could into the woman’s flesh and took what little life there remained.
The aged blood might reknit her blistered flesh, but nothing would clear away the heavy mark on her heart.
∞∞∞
“You deserve better.” The vicar kept his voice low as he sidled up next to her. “Your father is turning in his grave.”
She trembled and kept her eyes down.
“Sarah, leave that household. The church will protect you.”
No one could protect her. He would come for her. No matter where she went. Only death would save her now. She gave a sharp shake of her head and stepped away. “Thank you, sir. But leave me be.”
“Sarah—”
“Sarah,” another voice interrupted. Smooth and deep and grating down her spine. She stiffened, willing her legs not to weaken. “Why are you taking up all of the vicar’s time? Get yourself home and help mother.”
“Yes, Ira,” she whispered. Turned away from them both, ready to run to the house.
His hand stopped her, grabbing her arm in a bruising grip. “Don’t be rude, Sarah. Take your leave of the vicar.”
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes as she turned back around and curtsied. “My apologies. Good day, Vicar.”
The middle-aged man looked as if he was about to say something. He hadn’t missed the deep impression Ira’s hands made on her arm. Or the tears shining unshed in her eyes. Ira released her just in time. She turned again as the tears scored her cheeks.
“I’ll be right behind you in a few minutes.” The threat followed her down the path and haunted her all the way home.
∞∞∞
The bulbous moon rose just above the tree line, pregnant and ready to burst in only a few short nights. The creatures of the forest quieted as the small group of vampires crouched behind trees and unkempt shrubbery, watching. The camp was average sized, all things considered. About thirteen serviceable but worn tents in varying camouflaged colors filled the small meadow. All was silent as the occupants rested. Soft yips and canine snores filled the air. A whispered discussion from inside one of the tents revealed a mated pair arguing.
Weaken the Knees (The Immortal World Book 6) Page 16
