Blood Judgment (Judgment Series)

by Nickie Asher

He licked the brand on the inside of his arm, hoping the mild healing agent in his saliva would help. But the stroke of his tongue sent waves of pain rushing up his arm and the foul taste sent his stomach into a nasty roll.

  His parched mouth had a nasty coating, like someone had dumped dirt in it. He tried repeatedly to swallow, but his tongue, swollen to an impressive size from where he’d bitten into it to keep from begging for mercy, lay in his mouth like a wadded-up sock. He rubbed his scratchy, burning eyes. He hadn’t had a single sip of water since his capture and dehydration compounded his misery.

  With a total lack of emotion, the realization that he’d shit himself filtered into his consciousness. He groaned and tried to roll onto his side to relieve the discomfort of lying on the floor.

  His body didn’t want to move.

  Using his left hand, he pushed himself onto his side. His legs tingled with a strange numbness. He pinched his thigh, but didn’t feel it. He must have lain in a bad position.

  He stilled. This was the first time he hadn’t been in a cage. Could he find a way out? Hope fired to life. Maybe he wasn’t going to die here after all.

  He pushed himself upward and the room swam in dizzying circles. He groaned, lowered his head, and tried again. Nausea twisted his insides and he gagged, but he had nothing in his shrunken stomach to throw up.

  Once he stopped gagging, he gave sitting up another shot. This time he managed it.

  Drawing his legs under him was another story; they were dead things attached to his lower body. He tried again.

  Wasn’t happening.

  He positioned his legs with his hands and pushed himself onto his knees. They held him upright, but wouldn’t move. He had no feeling in his legs at all except the awful tingling.

  Unable to move and not knowing what else to do, he collapsed back onto the concrete with a jarring thud. He moaned and waited for the pain in his body to back off enough so he could at least think straight.

  When he was able, he used his arms to drag himself across the floor. The broken arm sent waves of unrelenting agony through him, but he refused to stop until he reached the door. Groaning, he eased back to the concrete and lay shaking.

  They hadn’t bothered to cage him because it wasn’t necessary. Paralysis crippled his legs.

  Had his back been injured while he was unconscious? He didn’t know, but he didn’t think so.

  The knob turned and the door opened until it came to a sudden halt against his body.

  “Son of a bitch is lying against the door,” a man he’d come to know as Frances said from the other side. Terror zinged through him. He feared Frances the most. The door slammed into his back and pushed his body across the floor. He didn’t give them the satisfaction of the cry that wanted to rip out of him.

  Frances and another man came in. Frances pushed the door closed. “Hold his shoulders down.”

  Panic iced his blood. What in God’s name were they going to do now?

  The technician leaned on Vali’s shoulders and mashed him against the concrete. Too weak and in too much pain to struggle, he lay at their mercy, heart thrashing his ribs.

  Frances pulled a knife with a serrated blade from a sheath at his belt and bent over Vali, who sucked in his breath and waited for him to plunge the blade into him with a killing strike.

  Instead, Frances slashed downward and cut a ten-inch slash in Vali’s lower leg.

  It didn’t hurt.

  He didn’t feel anything at all.

  He fixed on the blood soaking his ruined jeans. The scarlet liquid’s scent made his stomach knot with need. He moaned.

  Frances looked disgusted. “He didn’t feel a damn thing. Just like that other little fucker.”

  His companion nodded. “Shit doesn’t work right.”

  “Not yet, but those lab boys will get it eventually.”

  SO FAR, Saranna hadn’t been raped.

  She sat cross-legged on the peach-draped, queen-sized bed that served as the room’s focal point.

  Done in shades of cream, peach, and gold, with lush furnishings and lovely decorations, the room was stunning. If she’d been there voluntarily, she would have felt like a queen in such surroundings.

  But the opulence provided nothing more than fancy camouflage for a prison. The decorative bars on the windows and locks on the door made sure of it.

  She’d been locked in the elegant cell for almost two weeks. While her captors had given her water and juice, she hadn’t had a bite of food. And now her belly cramped for blood. Hunger played a part in whatever they had in mind.

  Her keen hearing picked up heavy footsteps accompanied by the staccato clicking of high heels on hardwood. The tromping and clicking stopped outside her door. Her empty, aching stomach clenched into a sick knot.

  A key turned in the lock and a fashionably dressed woman, well past her prime, and two large men came into the room.

  The man to the woman’s left carried a set of padded restraints.

  Saranna launched from the bed and backed away until she pressed against the wall. She’d gone without nutrition long enough that her strength had diminished to not much more than a human female.

  The men could overpower her.

  “Listen here, missy.” The woman’s cold gray eyes bore into her. “I paid good money for you and I expect you to perform in the capacity you were purchased for.”

  Saranna tried to back farther away.

  “This is Jeff and Bobby, my trainers.”

  Trainers? Oh God, had the foul creature said that?

  “They’re going to teach you how to please men. In the days to come, if you want to eat, you’ll learn to perform. When they say you’re ready, you’ll entertain customers.”

  “Please don’t do this. Please let me go home.” Panic tied knots in her intestines with icy hands.

  “Think about your boyfriend. It’ll be better if you’re focused on him.” She laughed mirthlessly. “You were captured with a male, were you not?”

  Saranna mentally crumpled at the mention of Julian.

  The men closed on her. Jeff grabbed her arm. She yanked against his hold, but he caught her other arm and held her facing him.

  She struggled frantically. Jeff let go of one arm and backhanded her hard across the face. The blow half stunned her, and she sagged in his grip.

  “Don’t bruise her face,” the madam barked.

  “Sorry, Margo” Jeff muttered.

  Bobby ripped her blouse open, popping and scattering buttons.

  Bare underneath, she cringed in Jeff’s grip. She hadn’t worn a bra to work the night they were caught, and though she’d been given a wardrobe, a bra hadn’t been among the tacky garments. She squirmed and tried to cover her breasts.

  “Please,” she cried, “leave me alone.”

  Jeff picked her up and tossed her on the bed. He pinned her down while Bobby fastened the restraints on her wrists and attached them to the bed frame.

  Jeff kicked off his shoes, undid his pants, and stepped out of them. He climbed onto the bed, his erection huge and ready.

  She clamped her legs together.

  Jeff pried her knees apart and positioned himself so she lay open and exposed.

  Tears trickled from her closed eyes. “Please don’t.”

  Jeff moved over her. His dead-fish breath blew into her face.

  She was going to be sick.

  He pushed up between her legs, forcing them wider. His thick cock brushed her flesh and she jerked. “Oh, God, oh, please don’t.”

  He rammed inside her.

  Saranna screamed.

  AN ETERNITY later, after both men had raped her multiple times while the madam watched, they left Saranna alone in the room.

  She crawled from the soiled bed, squeezed between the wall and a large ornate dresser, and sank down on the floor. Huddled in the corner, she wrapped her arms around her drawn-up knees and tried to make herself smaller.

  She ached and burned between her legs and sticky wetness clung to he
r thighs. They’d hurt her, but she didn’t know how badly. The beasts’ scent on her skin turned her stomach. Bile rose in her throat, but she fought it down. How long before they came back and raped her again? She rocked back and forth and moaned.

  She wasn’t sure how long she sat on the floor, minutes or hours, she had no idea. She wanted to remain tucked in the corner for eternity, but she had to clean herself.

  Please, God. Help me!

  But neither God nor anyone else was going to help her. She had no one but herself.

  Uncurling herself from her hiding place, she crept into the bathroom and turned on the tub faucet. She turned the temperature up until steam rolled off the water.

  She eased into the hot, soapy water and gasped at the pain.

  Thoughts of Julian flooded her and tears welled in her eyes. She wanted him to save her. She wanted him to hold her in his arms and keep her safe. She wanted him to love her and never let her go.

  She clenched her teeth, wiped away her tears, and ran her hands into her hair where they curled into fists.

  He’s dead! He can’t help you. He can’t love you. Now quit being a fucking baby and find a way out of here.

  She had to escape. She wouldn’t be a whore for that bitch and her minions. The window wasn’t an option. The door was always locked. She was too weak to kill them.

  How then?

  There had to be a way out.

  She eyed the huge mirror over the vanity. If she couldn’t get out, she would smash the mirror and slit her wrists with the shards.

  DR. SAM Bridger planted himself in the chair on the other side of Banks’ desk. Unlike most people who sat there, he didn’t appear in the least intimidated. Banks didn’t think Bridger was afraid of him, nor did Banks expect the man to squirm in his presence. Bridger, a master researcher and scientist, bowed to no one. Banks liked and respected him.

  Reengineering rabies as a biological weapon was brilliant, yet extremely dangerous. Bridger’s work was methodical and thorough. With him in charge, it was only a matter of time before the virus was perfected.

  “You’re positive humans won’t contract rabies?” Banks said.

  “Nothing will catch it except vampires. The modifications have been successful. Without vampire DNA to activate the virus, it’s shed from the host.”

  “What about half-breeds?”

  “They have vampire DNA, so, yes, they will become infected. Since they’re classed as vampires, you shouldn’t have an issue with it.”

  “I don’t. And it might work in our favor. If the bastards masquerading as humans become infected, it’ll spread panic.”

  “And the quicker you’ll be able to exterminate the community,” Bridger said.

  “That’s right.”

  “Don’t get the ovens ready yet, mein Fuhrer.”

  “Don’t overstep your bounds, Bridger. What we’re doing is for the good of the human race. Vampires are not human. They’re dangerous, cunning animals. And they have no right to life.” Banks leaned over his desk. “Human beings have the right to live without fear of attack by over-intelligent predators. The fuckers shouldn’t be roaming the streets and when I’m done, they won’t be.”

  “Take it easy, Banks. I happen to agree with you or I wouldn’t have accepted this project. What I’m telling you is the test subjects are still reacting in unpredictable ways.”

  “I have every faith in your work. I’m well aware vampires are difficult to infect.”

  “Yes, difficult, but not impossible. We’ve made great strides already. It’s only a matter of time to perfect the formula. Won’t be long before you can play merry hell on them.”

  “What about the second phase formula?”

  “We’re further along with that one. It was a lot easier to work with.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Isn’t it? You’re guaranteed to be the hero by the time phase two is completed.”

  Banks quirked an eyebrow.

  “I have to give it to you, Banks, it’s a brilliant plan. You should see a drastic reduction in the population by the end of the cycle.”

  “The dumb bastards won’t know what hit them.”

  “It’s ironic that they were outted because of a sick vampire.”

  Banks steepled his fingers. “Actually, that was the inspiration for this project.” He leaned back in his chair. “That psychotic fucker’s killing spree won’t ever be forgotten around here.”

  “It all plays in, doesn’t it?”

  “Of course. Why waste a perfect setup?”

  “People see sick vampires, they’ll panic and give you the green light.”

  “That’s right.”

  They’d sure as hell panicked when a psycho bastard had gone on a rampage and no one knew he was anything other than human. He’d killed over a dozen people before the SWAT team took him out.

  The autopsy had left the coroner dumbfounded and he’d refused to say the word vampire. At least until they’d raided the dead male’s home and killed a pregnant female and three younger males.

  After that, things were never the same again. And they never would be until every stinking vampire was dead or so subdued that they would never again be a threat to the human race.

  SWEAT TRICKLED down Julian’s back in the miserable heat of the metal building. It didn’t matter. He had a plan and tonight he would put it to the test.

  He wasn’t going to end up like Nickey—providing entertainment for a bunch of rich fucks pretending to conquer a predator.

  He drank his last liter of warm water and curled on the floor to wait for one of his captors to put in an appearance.

  Their jailors checked on them every night and brought two-liter soda bottles filled with water. The men also came in during the day while they slept to check on them and empty the waste buckets. But those daytime visits were useless for what he had in mind.

  He didn’t have to wait long before the outside door rolled open. He prepared himself. Now or never. If he failed, there wouldn’t be a second chance.

  Footsteps approached the cells.

  He let out a pitiful moan.

  The man stopped in front of Julian’s cell. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Sick.” Julian gasped and moaned again.

  “Nah, that’s just your belly wantin’ a little blood. You’ll be all right.”

  Julian rolled over and moaned. With his back to the man, he jammed two fingers down his throat, triggering his gag reflex. Jerking into a sitting position, he vomited a watery mix of bile and other foul tasting fluids onto the floor.

  He dragged himself into the corner. Once there, he shoved his fingers down his throat again and triggered another bout of vomiting.

  “Son of a bitch!” The man went for the ring of keys.

  Julian made eye contact with Xalend. For realism, he made himself gag again. He didn’t need the ability to read minds to know the man thought their valuable property was sick, maybe too sick to provide entertainment in a few days. Or even worse, sick enough to die. Julian lay on his side and shivered as if he had chills. He moaned for effect.

  The man opened Julian’s cell door.

  Julian trembled without faking. Holding himself in check, he groaned and coughed, waited like a spider for an unsuspecting fly to land in his web.

  Cursing, the man grabbed Julian’s shoulder and turned him over. Julian lunged upward and destinies realigned with one quick twist.

  Snarling in triumph, Julian buried his fangs in his struggling jailor’s throat.

  The man screamed.

  Julian locked his hand on the man’s throat and choked him into silence. With starved abandon, he drank until there was nothing left to take. The hunger pain in his stomach eased.

  He lifted his head and the ecstasy of feeding drained away. Jesus Christ! He’d killed someone. A lead knot settled in his gut. “Shit.”

  He crawled off the man and crossed his arms over his stomach. “Shit, Xalend.”

  “You’ve
never killed before?”

  Julian shook his head. His gut clenched. Clammy sweat slicked his skin. “I think I’m gonna puke.” He barely got the words out before his meal came up. When he finished, he staggered to his feet and wiped his mouth clean with a shaking hand.

  “You’ll be all right,” Xalend said. “Trust me.”

  Julian stared at the corpse and threw up again.

  What the hell was wrong with him? The sons of bitches were going to kill him, so why the hell did it bother him anyway? Fuck. How the hell was he supposed to hack being a fighter if killing one murdering piece of shit made him puke his guts up?

  “Julian! You’ll get over it. Trust me.”

  He nodded and bent over the dead man. He hoped Xalend was right. He snatched the keys off the body and stood on trembling legs.

  He left his own unlocked cell and hurried to Xalend’s. The sixth key he tried clicked the lock open.

  Xalend slid out. “Thanks. I owe you a major favor. Now, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  They crept from the building and raced like shadows through the darkness.

  “We have to get off this damn property,” Xalend said.

  Julian stared at the house. The grandeur of the shining white jewel was sickening. A mansion built on blood and death.

  They followed the driveway past the house and slid into the cover of dense trees. A tall chain-link fence ran across the front of the property and vanished into the trees at either end.

  A guard’s booth and an impressive set of gates sat between them and the road, blocking their freedom.

  “Come on.” Xalend motioned for Julian to follow him. “We can climb the fence.” He started forward, but Julian grabbed his arm and jerked him up short.

  “What the hell?”

  “You didn’t believe it would be easy, did you?” Julian picked up a stick and threw it at the fence. The snap when it contacted told him what he needed to know. “It’s hot. Probably enough juice to cook us.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Come on, act like we have every right to be here. Maybe we can just walk out.” Julian headed for the guardhouse.

  “Don’t count on it.”

  An older man poked his head out the window. “Can I help you fellas?”