Blood Judgment (Judgment Series)

by Nickie Asher

  And of course, following that wonderful memory come the nightmare scene of his father’s death. None of them knew the details. The truth. He wouldn’t talk about it, couldn’t. But it replayed in his sleep, three or four times a week, keeping it fresh and raw.

  If he’d just ignored the girl. But her beauty had enthralled him. Human or not, he’d wanted her and she’d given herself. Both of them virgins. It had been hot, clumsy, messy, and fast. He’d bit her when he climaxed. She shrieked and her father, who had come home sometime while they were having sex, charged into her bedroom.

  Now, he didn’t remember how he’d gotten out of the house. Her father had gone nuts. A lot of it was a blur. He’d grabbed his clothes off the floor and run. Her father chased him. More people joined in.

  Lungs on fire, he’d made it home. And his father had interceded. He’d sent Vali out the back door and faced the men. And they’d killed him.

  He had hid across the street, too scared to go hand himself over and save his father. They’d gotten his father down, sheer numbers overwhelming him, and cut his head off.

  Vali had vomited and vomited until he thought he was going to die. He’d hoped he’d die. He deserved to die.

  His father shouldn’t have been the one to be killed. He’d caused his father’s murder and he deserved every horrible thing that had happened to him since.

  He deserved being a whore. He deserved the pain and degradation that went with it. He deserved the humiliation when he involuntarily climaxed despite his revulsion of allowing men to have sex with him. He deserved being captured and taken to the Security Center. And he deserved every bit of pain they’d inflicted on him and more. No matter how much he suffered, it wouldn’t pay his debt.

  He’d been so close to death. If only they’d let him go… Because he didn’t have the courage to kill himself.

  At least, not yet.

  THE FOLLOWING night, Julian slipped out before Saranna awoke and made his way to his father’s apartment building. Apprehension gnawed a hole in his gut as he clung to the concealing shadows.

  You’re fucking pathetic. He doesn’t want you. Accept it and go home.

  Wasn’t happening.

  He desperately wanted to know his father. Even if it meant being shoved away, he had to try to make his father acknowledge the truth.

  He swallowed hard. Maybe he should let it go. His father knew the truth. He didn’t want Julian in his life.

  But before he made a decision, his father exited the building and strode down the street.

  Julian slid away from the darkened crack between the apartment building and its neighbor and tailed his father. He hung back, not sure of what he was going to do.

  His father walked fast, drawing Julian deeper into the city. He rounded a corner and stopped. His father had vanished.

  Confused, he drew in a deep breath. His father’s scent filled the air. A slight scraping sound, like nails on brick, drew his attention upward.

  His father dropped on him, taking them down in a pile of flailing limbs.

  His father had been clinging to the wall above him and now Julian lay pinned under him. The older male hissed and he instinctively submitted, lying motionless.

  He grabbed Julian’s arm and looked at the brands with disgust. “No son of mine would be dumb enough to be captured and marked.”

  “You’re my father.” A lump lodged in his throat like a wad of tough steak.

  He backhanded Julian, bloodying his nose and numbing his face. “Stop following me, you little whelp. I want nothing to do with you. Don’t you understand that?”

  Blood slid down his throat. “You’re my father. Whether you like it or not. Whether you like me or not. Whether you want to be or not.”

  He hit Julian again. “I am not your father. Leave me the hell alone.”

  “Why? Why can’t you admit it?” He sniffed, trying to clear his clogged nose.

  “I’m nothing to you and you’re nothing to me. Leave me alone. You don’t want to keep fucking with me.” He drew back his fist.

  Julian didn’t flinch. Not that it mattered. His father had to hear his jackhammering heart.

  Christopher lowered his hand. “Get the fuck away from me, whelp.” And in a blink, he was gone.

  Julian gained his feet and stumbled down the sidewalk. He covered miles without going anywhere. Walked blocks without seeing the people and things he passed until he stood outside their apartment. What kind of reception would he get from Saranna?

  Gritting his teeth, he entered the apartment.

  She shot him a shriveling glare from her position on the sofa. The expression vanished. “What happened?”

  He wiped at the dried blood on his face and shrugged. “Father wasn’t happy to see me.”

  “Oh, Julian.” Her features softened. “I’m sorry.”

  “He hates me.”

  She stood. “Let me clean you up.”

  He followed her into the bathroom and sat on the commode lid while she washed his face and hands.

  “Please don’t be mad at me.” He sounded more like a child than an adult. He didn’t think he could stand it if she shoved him away, too.

  “I am angry. I know you have rights over me, but… I didn’t think you’d pull the macho shit.”

  “It’s not that. I’m afraid something will happen to you. I can’t lose you, Saranna. I don’t have anybody.” The time he’d spent alone on the streets had been the worst days of his life.

  She slid into the space between his spread legs and drew him close. She held him against her like a mother comforting an injured child.

  She stroked his hair. “I have to help, just like you do.”

  “We’ll find another way, okay? I don’t want you taking people to the shelter, but we can work something out to get them there.”

  “Okay, Julian, you win.” She touched a scar on his forearm.

  He pulled his sleeve down.

  “You know you can always talk to me… I mean, if you feel like you need to do that.”

  Unable to meet her gaze, he said, “I can’t help it. Sometimes I have to do it. It’s all that helps.”

  She touched his cheek and he forced himself to look at her.

  “I understand. I do.”

  She didn’t. She couldn’t. Because he didn’t understand the humiliating compulsion himself. He bowed his head and rested his forehead against her. “I’m sorry. I wish I was normal. You shouldn’t be stuck with a half-breed nutbag.”

  “You aren’t those things. Please don’t think like that.”

  But he was those things. His blood was diluted, making him less than them and no normal person would get relief from hurting himself. “I’m sorry.”

  She bent and kissed him lightly on the mouth. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her onto his leg. He deepened the kiss.

  “I have to help those in need.” She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his before he voiced a protest.

  He wasn’t going to have it. But right now, he was going to have her. He stood and scooped her into his arms.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  THE FOLLOWING evening, Vali rubbed his aching, empty stomach as the others filed out to go to the firing range.

  Though any of them would feed him, he was loath to ask. But the clawing hunger wasn’t to be ignored any longer, letting it get out of hand might not be a good idea.

  He considered calling Rene, his longtime, feeding partner, and asking her to come to him again, but he nixed the idea. She’d already come to the apartment twice. The pity and sorrow in her pretty eyes was too much.

  Self-loathing coursed through his veins like poison. He shoved his hair back from his eyes. He would go to Rene. After a quick call to make sure she was home, he grabbed the crutches, hoisted himself up, and hobbled to the door.

  BY THE time Vali reached the halfway point, his arms ached where the crutches pushed into him with each step and he trembled with exhaustion.

  He stopped. A ting
ling sensation crawled up the back of his neck and the hair lifted off his arms. A sense of wrongness enveloped him in a smothering cloud.

  Eyes. Watching every step he took.

  Vali slowly took in his surroundings, but nothing seemed amiss.

  Panic sunk claws deep into his belly.

  He lurched back down the sidewalk, his progress slow and clumsy. While he crept along, the feeling of being watched remained strong.

  Arms shaking from strain and exhaustion, he stopped to rest a minute. He stood head down, panting.

  His heart seized up and froze rock hard.

  He couldn’t go home.

  If they didn’t apprehend him on the street, they would follow him. He would endanger everyone.

  He had to hide.

  Yeah, right. How the shit was he going to do that when he wasn’t able to go any faster than a sun-baked slug? He sensed them behind him and his heart galloped in a race between panic and despair.

  He lumbered forward, tried to go faster, and lost his balance. Unable to catch himself, he sprawled on the sidewalk. His forehead hit the concrete and stars blazed before his eyes. Head throbbing, the warm wetness of blood trickled over his skin. He lay unmoving in a heap of twisted limbs and crutches.

  Two women approached, then gave him a wide berth and kept on going. The brands on his splayed-out arm were plainly visible. No one would offer help.

  Fear pushed him to struggle into a sitting position. His head thumped and his vision blurred. He waited until his sight cleared and pulled himself up with the aid of the crutches.

  A sob of icy terror tore out of him and he careened over the concrete. Dying was one thing; being starved and tortured to death was another.

  Openmouthed and struggling for breath, praying for a hiding place, he cut into an alley.

  The building to his left appeared vacant and he headed toward a double set of mottled rust and white doors.

  His sensitive hearing picked up the heavy clumping of booted footsteps approaching the alley.

  Balancing on the crutches, he put his shoulder into the door and pushed with his weight. Luck favored him. The door gave under pressure and there was no sign of the men at the mouth of the alley. He maneuvered inside and pushed the door shut.

  He leaned against the cold metal wall and used the crutches to lower himself to the concrete.

  Only a trace of light filtered through a few windows set high above the floor. But it was enough for him to see the vast emptiness of the warehouse.

  Hoping to sleep, Vali pulled his legs into position with his hands and curled up on the cold, damp floor. If he slid into the blackness of sleep, he wouldn’t be aware of his hunger or anything else.

  JULIAN HELD the pistol with one hand and steadied his aim with the other. He squeezed the trigger and a neat hole appeared in the target.

  Ashton nodded approval. “Remember, hitting a moving target isn’t the same as pegging a piece of cardboard.”

  “I know.” He reloaded and emptied the clip again.

  Ashton leveled his weapon and squeezed off a shot.

  Julian had spent a good deal of time over the last week at a hole-in-the-wall firing range with Ashton and Slade. As it turned out, he mastered the weapon much quicker than any of them expected.

  Much to his pleasure, his natural ability with a firearm rivaled Slade’s skill. Having a feel for shooting gave him smug gratification every time he thought about it. That his skill irritated Slade made it even better.

  With the gun tucked in the back of his waistband, its reassuring weight felt right. The gun was an equalizer.

  “We’re done for tonight,” Ashton said. “You did well. Tomorrow night, when we go out, you’re coming with us. Assuming you want to.”

  “I want to,” Julian said. Holy shit. Ashton had cracked the door for him. He’d proven himself worthy of getting a chance and he sure as hell wasn’t going to blow it.

  “Good.” Ashton stuck his weapon in his waistband. “Let’s pick up Saranna and call it a night.”

  JULIAN PUSHED open the door and revealed a dark, empty apartment.

  Saranna moved around him and flipped on the light. “Did Vali say anything about going out?”

  “No.”

  “It’ll be light in a couple hours.” She worried her lower lip with her teeth.

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” Ashton said. “He probably wanted to get out for a little while. He’s been cooped up for days.” Ashton didn’t look like he believed what he’d said.

  “Oh, no.” Saranna sat on the sofa with a plop. “I bet he was hungry. I didn’t even think about him. He hasn’t fed since…”

  Julian watched her mentally calculate the days.

  “It’s been way over a week since Rene was here. He had to be hurting.” A cloud of guilt passed over her face.

  Ashton cursed. “No one thought about it. Vali must think none of us give a shit. Do you know where his blood partner lives?”

  “No,” Saranna said. “He’s quiet about his habits. I just know it’s a young female.”

  Julian felt bad for her. Her body language spoke louder than words. She blamed herself.

  He felt worse for Vali.

  ”He can’t defend himself,” Slade said. “We better go look for him.”

  “Come on.” Saranna snatched her keys and herded them out of the apartment and on to Ashton’s car.

  As Ashton drove the streets, Saranna kept dialing the landline at the apartment, hoping he’d returned, but no one answered.

  Julian hated the pain he read in her eyes. He pulled her tight against him. It wasn’t her fault. None of them had given Vali’s feeding needs a second thought.

  He didn’t want to think something might have happened to Vali. But unless he’d made it to his feeding partner and planned to spend the day with her, he should be home. And he would have left a note or called if it was a last minute change of plan.

  Something was dead ass wrong.

  VALI OPENED his eyes and didn’t know where he was until reality kicked in. His head pounded. He touched his forehead and crusted blood flaked off.

  Biting his lip, he hauled himself off the floor with the crutches. Dawn was coming on and he had to move his ass fast. He almost laughed. Yeah, he would haul ass all right. Maybe he should hole up there for the day. He didn’t relish the idea of being incinerated on the sidewalk.

  He crutched to the doors and cracked one open. Quiet darkness greeted him.

  He eased out and made his way back to the street. At the mouth of the alley, he scanned the sidewalk in both directions before leaving the safety of the shadows.

  Dawn would break over the horizon in about a half hour. He should have ten minutes or so to spare by the time he got home. Unless he misjudged the time, in which case he was going to get a suntan.

  Other than a few early morning business people, a cluster of homeless men, and a stray vampire on the other side of the street, he was alone.

  Nonetheless, he looked over his shoulder every few steps until the apartment building loomed ahead.

  Relief flooded him. He’d made it. Maneuvering as quickly as possible to the steps, he hauled himself up to the doors. One hand on the knob, he surveyed the street one last time.

  And there they were.

  Two uniformed men. One spoke into a cell phone. The other gave him an evil smile that spoke volumes of intent.

  “Fuck me.” Vali hobbled through the double doors.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  A HEAVY thump against the apartment door brought Julian and Saranna to their feet.

  Julian yanked the door open. “Damn, Vali, you scared the hell out of us.”

  “Where have you been? What happened to your head?” Saranna reached for him before he made it inside.

  His balance lost, Vali fell against her. “I was hungry,” he snapped as he tried to steady himself. “I have to feed sometime.”

  “At least everything’s okay.” Julian took Vali’s weight from Saranna and
helped him to the sofa.

  “Wrong. Everything’s perfectly fucked up.” He dumped the load on them in a quick rundown of what had happened.

  “Fuck.” Julian’s insides knotted. “We’re trapped in here.”

  “They don’t know which apartment we’re in.” Saranna’s hands fluttered like frightened birds.

  “They’ll know soon enough,” Julian said. “Call Ashton and let him know what’s happening. We’re going to have to fight them.”

  Saranna made the call and spoke in low, panicked tones. She ended the call quickly. “He can’t make it here before dawn. We’re on our own until tonight.”

  Julian hadn’t expected Ashton to come to the rescue. He had the loaded gun and three spare clips. When he ran out of ammunition, they were going to be in trouble. The call had been in case none of them survived until nightfall.

  FRAMER STRODE toward the two officers standing outside the decrepit apartment building. “You’re sure it’s the juvenile they broke out?”

  “It’s him,” Mike Riley said. His partner, Richard White, bobbed his head in agreement.

  Framer unfolded the warrant. “Okay, I’ll find the manager and see which apartment he’s in.”

  He entered the building and paused at the tenant directory. The manager resided in apartment three.

  How had the juvenile survived after being injected with the virus? He should have died about a week later. His survival showed a major flaw in the virus. Carriers couldn’t be permitted long-term survival.

  He wrapped on the manager’s door.

  A middle-aged woman answered his summons. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m Charles Framer from the Vampire Control and Security Center. May I come in?”

  She opened the door and stood aside. “My husband will be right with you. He’s the manager.”