Blood Judgment (Judgment Series)

by Nickie Asher

  In more pain than he’d ever known, he tried to get up. And fell back with a groan. Did he have internal injuries, too? Probably. Didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting away.

  The van screeched to a stop a little further down the ramp.

  He forced himself onto his injured knees, hissing at the pain. His stomach churned, but he ignored it.

  Behind him, the van doors slammed. The officers were coming after him.

  He lurched onto his feet. His body a mass of agony, he struggled over the guardrail and nearly plummeted down the embankment. Fighting to stay upright, he made it to the bottom.

  Ignoring his body’s efforts to make him stop, he ran back toward the city, each jarring step impacting his injuries. He didn’t care. He was home free. He would be laid up a long while, but it was better than dying. He’d come close to losing his life.

  Maybe it was time to go underground for a while.

  Chapter Fifty-one

  SURROUNDED BY confined males, Saranna huddled in the corner of a too-small cage. She focused on the others in an effort to keep herself from thinking of her own fate.

  One male clawed, and even bit at the bars holding him in. Blood ran from his mouth as he attacked the unyielding metal. He’d been there long enough that the drugs had worn off and his eyes were glazed with fear. She estimated him at about sixteen years old.

  An occasional scream by a vampire being processed punctuated her terror, and she huddled tighter, arms over her stomach. The minutes crawled by.

  A dozen males, including the youngster were taken out one by one. Of the dozen, half were eventually returned. What had become of the others? None of the young ones had been brought back.

  Chills prickled her skin. Oh, dear Lord. Were they killing the juveniles? Her heart squeezed. Sure they were. They’d done it before. They were culling young males. Had to be. They’d killed the little male who’d tried to chew his way out.

  Her eyes burned and her vision doubled.

  Two men came into the room and this time, they headed for her. Her insides twisted into painful knots.

  The technician unlocked the cage and opened the door. “We can do this the hard way or the easy way. It’s up to you, honey.”

  Heart in her throat, she said, “Don’t call me honey.”

  “Fine. Bitch. You like that better? Now, get your ass out of the cage.”

  She shrank back until she pressed against the rear bars. He grabbed her wrist. She yanked away.

  “Listen, you can come out of there on your own or we’ll hit you with the electric and knock you out.”

  Fearing an electric jolt would hurt her baby, she had no choice. But making herself move took every bit of courage she had. Shaking, she crawled from the cage.

  “Move it.” The man pointed to the door.

  With silent tears trickling down her cheeks, she walked in front of him. He shepherded her into a hallway with doors lining both sides.

  “Don’t worry. We don’t brand females. Only males are violent enough to warrant it.”

  In his own way, Saranna surmised, he was trying to be kind.

  He opened a door to a small room, much like a doctor’s examination room, and ushered her inside. “Strip down.” He ordered.

  “Wha… what?”

  “Your clothes. Take them off.”

  “Please, no.” She backed away from him.

  “Listen, I’m trying to make this as easy as possible. The officers who brought you in said they were almost positive you’re pregnant. If so, that’s going to be bad enough.”

  He closed the door behind them. “I’m not going to hurt you and I’ve seen at least a thousand naked females. Now strip and be done with it.”

  Tears leaked from her eyes. “Please, mister.”

  “Take them off.” His voice had gone cold.

  Shaking, she turned her back and removed her clothes. When she stood nude, she looked at the floor, wanting to disappear. If he wanted to rape her, no one would stop him. A boulder of fear lodged in her stomach.

  “Stand against the wall.”

  He photographed her, front and back, and took her fingerprints.

  “Get on the scales.”

  She stepped on the scales and allowed him to measure her. Trembling, she crossed her arms over her breasts and lifted one leg enough to try to hide her pubic area.

  He opened the door. “Harvey,” he called, “I need an assist with a blood draw.”

  Another man came in. “Sit your pretty little ass down.” He pointed to the chair.

  She backed away, shaking her head in refusal.

  The men rushed her, grabbed her arms, and dragged her toward the chair. She squealed in panic and wrenched free. The one who’d come to help pulled a control device from his pocket and advanced on her.

  She was afraid to let them take her tell-tale blood, but she was even more afraid of the device. “Don’t, I’ll sit.”

  She sat and crossed her legs, trying to keep herself covered. The man placed a piece of tubing around her arm and yanked it painfully tight.

  Without cleaning the site, he jabbed a needle into her vein and drew blood into a vial. She bit her lip at his rough treatment and just wanted it to be over.

  He looked at her jewelry, the only thing she wore. “Those stones real?”

  “No,” she whispered the lie. The green jasper had turned blood-red which made the diamonds look pink.

  “From your boyfriend?”

  “My mother gave them to me.”

  The man pulled the tube loose, finished the collection, and withdrew the needle from her vein. He handed her a wad of gauze to press over the bleeding stick mark. “Get dressed.”

  Both men watched while, face flaming, she pulled her clothes on.

  “You got a male?” The second man asked. “You’re a pretty little thing. Yeah, I’m guessing you have a mate.”

  “Answer the question.” The first man prodded.

  “I have a mate.”

  “He’s probably shitting himself right about now,” the second man said.

  THE DRIVE took too long, but once the center was in sight, Julian wasn’t sure how to proceed. He slowed to a crawl and drove to the back of the building.

  A ramp curved down to the basement, ending at a large metal garage door. A sign read Sound Horn For Entrance. He turned into the drive and hit the horn. The garage door rattled upward and his gut clenched. Point of no return. He drove forward.

  The interior was a large, open space where vans pulled in for unloading. He remembered it from his own terrifying trip through the wretched place.

  Men walked around, some with clipboards, and a few who appeared to be doing nothing beyond loitering.

  He slid the van into a spot near a service elevator where a sign read No Cargo. He shut the motor off.

  No one paid any attention to him.

  He sat behind the wheel and checked his gun. Taking a deep breath, he hid the Beretta under his jacket.

  He stepped out of the van and grabbed the backpack. Waiting for a flurry of action to break loose, he shoved the door shut.

  Nothing happened.

  Heart hammering, chilled to the core in still-damp clothes, he walked across the parking area toward the door he’d been taken through for processing. He thought he was going to make it unscathed when someone shouted, “You! Hold it a minute.”

  Julian’s stomach cranked into a knot. He faced the officer.

  “Who? Me?” He forced his most innocent expression and kept his right hand beneath his jacket. His finger curled around the gun’s trigger.

  “Yeah, you. I’ve never seen you before. You new?”

  “Yeah, s’my first night at this gig. I was supposed to meet up with some dudes, but they didn’t show up.” He had no idea if the officers ever met up like that or if they left the building in teams. But it was the first thing that came to him.

  “They probably came here and got a good laugh at your expense. Go through there.” He pointed
in the direction of the door. “Go through the second door on the left. They’ll get ya taken care of.”

  Julian sauntered forward with a jauntiness he didn’t feel and went through the entryway. To his left was a long row of doors. They had initially taken him into a room on the right.

  He ducked his head around the doorway. Every cage was occupied. All the prisoners were male. Their fear was overpowering and he tried not to breathe the scent in, but it was impossible to avoid. He didn’t need their fear infecting him.

  SARANNA LAY in a small cage.

  The blood test had betrayed her pregnancy and, instead of being released, she was being held until an abortion could be performed.

  They’d given her a drug that had calmed and slightly sedated her, despite knowing they were going to murder her baby.

  She’d been left alone in a small room. An exam table with stirrups and restraints sat in the center. She placed her hands over her belly. She had to save her baby.

  She lifted her head. Something had changed. A subtle shift. But she didn’t know what. Her hand shot to her throat. The bloodstones warmed against her skin and vibrated.

  Julian.

  He was close. He’d come for her.

  Hope and fear tore at her. If they caught him, he would be held for execution, if not killed on the spot.

  “Julian,” she whispered.

  JULIAN STOPPED and growled.

  She was near.

  He inhaled, seeking her scent, drawing the stale air deep inside him. The combination of fear, pain, medicinal odors, humans, vampires, and the black scent of death was sickening in its strength.

  But the scent of Saranna burned through him.

  Following his senses, he tracked her. As he approached a door on his right, something that sounded like a whimpering dog stopped him cold. He stepped up to a small observation window and took in a sight that twisted his stomach into knots and sent glacier cold through him.

  A young male huddled in the corner. Huge eyes staring. Empty. Blood and vomit crusted a garish tie-dye t-shirt that had ridden up over his pale stomach. Long self-inflicted claw marks cut deep trenches in the pale flesh. He jumped at every sound. Strings of saliva ran from his mouth. Growling, he bared immature fangs at some terror only he could detect.

  Julian slammed his fist against the door in helpless rage. The youngster sprang off the floor. Growing like a mad animal, he threw himself at Julian and plowed into the steel door.

  He looked into the juvenile’s glazed eyes. Nothing reflected back except terror and blankness.

  The juvenile whipped his head to the side. Saliva flew in strings from his gaping mouth. He growled and hissed, nails scraping over the window. He slammed into the unyielding door several more times before collapsing in a whimpering heap on the floor.

  Julian stumbled away, his stomach clenched around a block of ice at its center. What in God’s name had been done to the youngster?

  But he knew. Didn’t he?

  The juvenile was a test subject for their drugs. For whatever the sons of whores were hatching. If he opened the door, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind the juvenile would attack the first thing he came in contact with, human or vampire.

  Julian retreated from the sick juvenile. He couldn’t help the pitiful creature.

  He moved on. Saranna’s scent was stronger. On silent feet, he ran down the hall until he sensed her. He went to the closest room and touched the door. “Saranna?”

  Nothing. No prize behind door number one.

  Shit.

  He went to the next door and called for her.

  “Julian, I’m here.”

  Relief rushed over him. He pushed the door open and slid inside.

  She huddled in a tiny cage. A desire to kill made his fangs ache with need. He sped to the cage. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay now that you’re here.”

  He grabbed the lock and pulled. It didn’t give. “Fucking hell!” He attacked it again.

  The door opened behind him.

  “The tech will be here later today…” The technician’s eyes bugged. “What the fuck?” Comprehension dawned. His clipboard clattered to the floor and he fled.

  Julian dove and yanked him back into the room. Without a moment’s hesitation, he slammed the man into the wall so hard he crumpled and lay in a dazed heap.

  Julian dropped down beside him. Snake fast, he grabbed the man’s hair and forced his head back, exposing his throat. The technician moaned.

  “You better have the key to this lock, or so help me God, I’ll rip your heart out while it’s still beating.”

  “Calm down.” The man’s voice shook. “I have the key. You can have your mate. Don’t kill me. Please.”

  “Give it to me.” Julian yanked the technician’s hair.

  He fished in his pocket and offered the key to Julian.

  He snatched it with a snarl and the technician shrank back against the wall.

  “Please, I gave you what you wanted. Please don’t kill me.” His gaze was glued on Julian’s brands.

  “Why shouldn’t I? You were going to have my child butchered.”

  “It’s just policy. I was only following orders.”

  “What about the little male down the hall, the sick one? What the fuck has been done to him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Julian growled and leaned closer, fangs bared.

  “I swear. I swear. I don’t know. There’s a team that conduct experiments on some of the juvenile males. But none of us outside the team, and management, know what’s going on.” The man cowered before him. “They’re testing something that’s in development. That’s all I know.”

  “Do you have a phone?”

  The tech nodded.

  “Give it to me.”

  He dug in his lab coat and surrendered his phone.

  Julian hit the button. “Access code?”

  “Beagle.”

  Julian logged in and tested the video. The phone’s battery was nearly shot, only one bar remained, but that should be enough. “When’s break time?”

  “What?”

  “When do you fuckers stop torturing vampires and go take a piss and swill some coffee?”

  “Now. Been on break for five minutes.”

  “Fifteen minute breaks?”

  “Yes. Please don’t hurt me. I’ve done everything you wanted.”

  Ten minutes. Not enough time, but he’d been beyond lucky to get that. He slashed with his nails, raking across the man’s throat so hard his head bashed against the wall. The technician sank down flat and lay unmoving. Blood ran from four lacerations.

  Julian jabbed the key into the lock with trembling fingers. It turned with a soft snick. He yanked the door open.

  Saranna launched into his arms, almost unbalancing him. He pried her loose. “Come on. We have to get out of here.”

  He snatched the backpack and grabbed her hand, pulling her to the door. She stumbled.

  “Come on,” he said.

  “Sorry. They gave me something and I’m kind of loopy.”

  Terrific. “It’s okay, stick tight to me.” He opened the door a crack. No one lurked in the hallway, waiting to intercept them.

  “I’m going to level this place on the way out.”

  “But the others—”

  “Trust me, Saranna. Come on, we have to hurry.”

  She squeezed his hand. He led her into the hallway. “This way.” Keeping her close, he headed for the far end of the hall.

  “We can’t get out this way, can we?”

  “Trust me.”

  He checked his watch. Not enough time. At the end of the hallway, he stopped and yanked open the backpack. He took the first bundle of explosives and set the timer for twenty minutes. He placed it in an oversized potted fern.

  He snatched the pack and grabbed her hand. They ran back down the hallway. Her grip tightened, steadying herself. On a hunch, he tried the door opposite the holding room. Locked. He wrench
ed the knob with everything he had. The lock snapped. His hand cramped in protest. Ignoring the pain, he shoved the door open.

  Paydirt.

  A cabinet held an array of weapons. He shoved the door closed and went for the guns. The cabinet was likewise locked. He took the Beretta, reversed it, and smashed the glass.

  Hurrying, he grabbed weapons and clips. He shoved a Sig Sauer in his waistband. He couldn’t have more than fifteen minutes left. “Can you carry some of these clips?”

  “Yes.” She pulled up her shirt like an apron and stuffed in a dozen magazines.

  When Julian was loaded down with artillery, he said, “Come on, we’re getting short on time.” Shorter than he wanted to think about. The bastards’ break time would end before the explosives went off. They hurried out and across the hall to the holding room.

  A half-dozen males climbed to their feet. A few, so drugged they were unable to rise, stared, the others sat in resigned hopelessness.

  Julian snatched the ring of keys off the peg. They were numbered and so were the cages. He breathed a silent prayer of thankfulness for that bit of luck.

  Were any males chained to tables, waiting for their tormentors to return? He feared there were, but he didn’t have time to check each room. It made him sick, but there was nothing he could do except hope they died fast.

  “I’m going to get you out,” he said. “I have a few weapons. You’ll have to help each other. Turn right. Straight down the hall is an elevator. Get in it, all of you together. Be ready to kill anyone on it. Be ready to kill anyone who tries to stop you.”

  Working fast, he opened the locks. The males didn’t fuck around, once free, they grabbed guns and supported those who couldn’t stand on their own. When the last male was released, Julian checked his watch. “You have eleven minutes to get out before explosives go off.”

  Amid hisses and gasps of fear, the males moved in a wave, almost running out of the room, dragging the incapacitated ones with them. One lone male stopped. “Do you need help?”

  “I’ve got it covered. But thanks. Get going before they leave you.”