Blood Unleashed (Blood Stone)

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  He was right. The chances that Ilaria might be alive were remote, grading down to zero. Nevertheless, Marcus wanted to sprint to the address they’d been given, just to make sure.

  Rick was still thumbing out a text.

  “You’re telling Nial?” Marcus asked.

  Rick hit ‘send’ and put the phone on the floor next to Marcus’. “We’re going to spring the trap,” he said, “but I don’t want to rush in there without back-up and preparation. Unfortunately, Heru knows me as well as I know him, so anything I think of now he has had days to devise counter-moves to defeat me.”

  Marcus picked up his pants and thrust his legs into them. He was going to have to buy new clothes at the first opportunity. He’d just lost his entire wardrobe. “Then maybe I’d better do the thinking,” he suggested.

  “Whatever we do, we should do it fast,” Rick said. “There’s only three hours of daylight left. I don’t want to still be there when Heru stirs.”

  * * * * *

  Marcus peered through the tinted limousine windows at the apartment block. It was a run-down building with old-fashioned siding and broken windows. The garden beds where shrubs and plants would once have thrived were patches of weeds and bare soil. There were three palm trees spread out across the front of the lot, but they were desiccated, dying specimens, their leaves brown and hanging forlornly against the trunks.

  “This is one of the League’s locations,” Rick said, next to him.

  “It wasn’t on your list,” Sebastian said. He was sitting on the back seat with Nial.

  Nial rapped his knuckles against the window next to him. “Sunset in just under an hour.”

  The limousine sat across the road and fifteen yards down from the apartment block. Roman, Garrett and Kate were in their own car, on the other side of the block facing the back of the apartments. Winter and Dominic were on the roof of the building across from the apartment block, as observers.

  Everyone was linked into the communications net Sebastian had set up. It was hands-free and live at all times. If someone spoke, everyone heard it.

  Marcus checked the clip in his borrowed gun. His Glock 35 was buried under a ton of smoking timber and whatever else was left of his house. Roman had also supplied Rick with a pair of Berettas. Marcus wasn’t happy about having to use a gun he wasn’t familiar with. On top of that, they didn’t have any of the pyrrhus bullets, so the guns were going to be of limited use.

  Rick had been blasé about the limitations. “If you shoot them between the eyes, you’ll slow a vampire down long enough to move on. Besides, we’re trying to sneak in. Firing off fifty rounds is going to tell them we’re there before we want them to know that.”

  Marcus pushed the gun into the waistband of his jeans and pulled the shirt out and over it. Tension was coiling in his gut. “Okay,” he said.

  Rick was sitting like a statue next to him. He had barely spoken on the journey here. The few sentences he had uttered had been short and icy. It had taken Marcus a while to puzzle out that this was how Rick behaved around most people. No one else in the limousine had seemed to notice anything odd about his manner, or his barely veiled impatience over stupid questions. Given that they had not been able to give Nial a full explanation about Heru and Ilaria before Marcus had been called to his blazing house, there had been a lot of questions. Most of them were what Rick would consider stupid because the asker could figure out the answer for himself with a little thought.

  “I don’t like the two of you going in alone,” Nial said. This wasn’t the first time he had said it, but Rick had insisted that if anyone other than the two of them entered the building, then Heru would spring the trap.

  Marcus touched the two-way communicator bud in his ear. He didn’t like the buds, but it was imperative they remain linked to Nial’s team at all times and they couldn’t use phones to do that while they were carrying guns. “Time, gentlemen,” he said. “We have to move now.”

  Rick nodded and reached for the door. Marcus went out the other door and they met on the pavement and walked silently and openly over the road to the apartment block. This had been Marcus’ idea. Rick had wanted to find a back entrance, or basement entrance, or anything other than the front door, which was why Marcus had refused to consider it. “He’s expecting you to look for a sneaky entrance,” he told Rick and the others sitting around Nial’s living room. “So we go in the front door, bold as brass. So far, he’s been keeping a human face on his affairs, so they look like humans doing human business. He won’t take us out in the foyer, in full view of the public.”

  Nial had unhappily agreed with Marcus.

  So now they walked up the path to the glassed-in front door of the building. The foyer inside looked empty.

  Marcus pushed on the door. There was an electronic click and it opened under his hand. He swore. “Well, now he knows we’re here. The door just told him.”

  “He always knew we would come.” Rick pushed the door open wider and stepped inside. He took out one of his guns and left it hanging by his side, his finger curled around the trigger guard.

  Marcus stepped in and let the door close. He looked around. The foyer was as empty as it had looked from outside.

  Rick turned his head, his eyes half shut. “Nothing,” he murmured. “No movement anywhere.” He looked at Marcus. “I think the building is empty.”

  “Fifth floor,” Marcus prompted him. “Room five-eighteen.”

  They took the stairs, checking each turn carefully before proceeding, but Marcus knew Rick would hear the slightest movement long before they spotted anyone. As they wound up the flights, the tightness in his chest increased. His mouth was dry and his heart was thundering. He had no idea what to expect. He didn’t know vampires well enough to begin to guess about the shape of the threat ahead of them, but Rick’s caution and his hidden fear let Marcus’ imagination paint terrible scenarios.

  The fifth floor was as empty as the other four. Nothing moved. The silence made Marcus’ heart ram against his chest. What hidden eyes were watching them? Were cross-hairs lined up on them right now?

  Marcus checked the room numbers on the two closest doors and turned right to head down the passage to 518.

  It was the third one from the stairs. They stood in front of the door, looking at the old, scratched numbers on it. “We’re here,” Rick said shortly, for Nial’s benefit.

  Marcus pulled out his gun. Rick reached for the second one under his coat.

  His heart was thudding so loudly in his ears and his mind that Marcus could barely hear. He was shaking. Adrenaline, he told himself. This was how he had felt the first few times during field operations, after he had been transferred from the lab. His training had been thorough and they had covered the physiological effects of adrenaline, stage fright, and the freezing that agents experience the first few times they were shot at, but the intellectual knowledge didn’t help when he finally had to commit himself to action in the theatre of the real.

  For nearly three months, he had thrown up after every operation. Eventually he had become used to the hot, sickly surge of adrenaline, and the shakes had diminished as he had developed more experience with field ops and the patterns they followed, plus the routines that would save his life.

  But now he was back to the shakes. What was behind the door?

  Rick reached for the door handle. He touched it experimentally, with his fingertip. Then he curled his fingers around the knob and turned it very slowly. The door clicked open. It was unlocked.

  Rick looked at Marcus, so he nodded. He wasn’t ready but then, he was never going to be ready. He lifted his gun to the rapid fire position and curled his other hand under the butt, stabilizing it.

  Rick swept the door open and Marcus strode in. Three steps, then a side step to clear Rick’s path.

  His gaze swept around the room. Shock sagged his jaw and lowered his gun.

  The apartment was empty, except for twelve blue plastic filtered water containers. All of them were
full, the plastic molded lids Marcus had used to seal them still in place. They sat in neat rows along either side of the living room area.

  In the middle of the room was a step ladder, opened up into an inverted “v”. On the top steps, straddling them, was an ordinary kitchen cutting board. Its edges barely reached either step.

  Sitting on top of the board was about two pounds of C4 explosive, bound together with ordinary duct tape. Wires protruded from each brick of the explosive. A cellphone was attached to the outside of the package, and a wire was plugged into it, too. The cellphone was counting down.

  But that wasn’t the worst of it.

  “Oh sweet gods above, pray for us,” Rick whispered.

  The worst of it was that Ilaria stood in front of the ladder. Both hands and ankles were attached to the ladder and her mouth was covered in duct tape. She was wearing a silky camisole thing with tiny straps, that stopped just above her navel, and panties. Her bare skin had been cut and slashed repeatedly, from ankle to neck. The cuts had healed, but the blood she had lost from the cuts covered her. It had soaked into the ground around her feet.

  Her eyes were closed and she was shaking, making the ladder tremble.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Marcus put his gun away and moved forward, but Rick shot out his hand, halting him. “She’s deep in the grip of blood lust,” he said, his voice hoarse. “She’s trying to control it and not thrash about. If she does, the bomb goes off.”

  “Bomb?” Nial’s voice whispered in Marcus’ ear.

  “You should move away from the building, Nathanial,” Rick said shortly. “All of you.”

  “How far away?” Sebastian asked, reasonably.

  “New York should about do it,” Marcus replied. “No wonder the building is empty. He’s moved everyone as far away from this as possible.”

  “Talk to me,” Nial snapped.

  “It’s all here,” Marcus told him. “All two hundred and twenty four liters of pyrrhus.”

  “There’s six pounds of C4 strapped to a detonator, a cellphone counting down from twelve minutes and thirteen seconds,” Rick added. “Plus the bomb is linked to Ilaria, who is fighting off blood lust. There will be a tremble detector, Nial. If the C4 goes off, it will take out this entire building. Plus, it will set off the pyrrhus, and God knows what the pyrrhus will do. Get yourself and your people out of here.” He rammed his guns back into their holsters and shrugged off his coat.

  “What are you doing?” Marcus demanded.

  “We have to bring her out of blood lust,” Rick said. “I can’t disarm the bomb until she is removed from it.” He moved forward slowly, checking each step he took. Marcus knew he was looking for trip plates under the dirty carpet, and infrared beams, which he could probably see quite clearly.

  Marcus followed his footsteps exactly.

  They reached the ladder and after checking each end of the tape, Rick ripped it from Ilaria’s mouth. Her eyes fluttered open.

  “She doesn’t see us,” Rick told him. “The only thing she will notice now is blood.” He picked up Marcus’ hand. “You and I will have to feed her, to bring her hunger under control so she can stay still long enough to cut her away from the bomb.”

  “You can feed her? You? You’re a vampire.”

  “It’s not ideal,” Rick said, lifting his wrist up to his mouth. “But she would drain you dry, in this state.”

  For the first time, Marcus saw a vampire with his teeth descended. Rick opened his mouth and the long, white and sharp looking teeth descended until they were jutting out beneath his human teeth by half an inch. He didn’t hesitate. He bit into Marcus’ wrist.

  It hurt, for a split second. Then warmth raced up Marcus’ arm and spread throughout his body. Arousal gripped him and he moaned. All he could think about was the need to slake himself. He didn’t care who with. He needed release. Now.

  He realized Rick was moving his wrist toward Ilaria’s mouth. He watched with distant interest as her nose wrinkled. He saw her swallow. Rick gripped the back of her head, controlling her as her lips opened. Her teeth had already descended. She growled as she clamped her mouth on Marcus’ wrist, right over the open wound.

  He felt powerful sucking. He could feel the blood being drawn from him. But the arousal made him not care. It felt good, in an odd way, the pulling sensation. It almost felt sexy.

  He lost track of passing time, but after a while – it might have been a few seconds or long minutes – he noticed the arousal was growing less overpowering. He could take in other details. And, he was dizzy.

  He propped himself up with his hand on his knee. “Oh, wow....” he breathed. “Do humans ever get addicted to this?”

  “Frequently,” Rick murmured.

  “I feel like I’m out of my gourd.” He shook his head, trying to clear the muzziness.

  “That’s because she’s taking so much from you. You’re weakening,” Rick said. He pulled his wrist from Ilaria’s mouth. “That’s enough for you.” Then he did something even stranger. He licked Marcus’ wrist.

  His wrist began to tingle, and not with arousal. It grew warm, then hot. He winced. “What the fuck?”

  Rick let his wrist go and Marcus held it up. It was completely healed. There was no sign of a bite or the gaping wound he had seen before Ilaria’s mouth had clamped over it.

  Rick had pulled back the sleeve of his sweater and was biting into his own wrist. Once more, he held the back of Ilaria’s head and held his dripping wrist up to her mouth. She tried to turn her head away.

  “No, drink,” Rick insisted, holding her head steady. “You’ll die – we’ll all die if you don’t.”

  Her eyelids were still lowered so that only a sliver of her eyes was visible, but Marcus saw her gaze shift to look at Rick. She was pulling out of the blood lust. She was beginning to focus.

  “Drink,” Rick ordered, his voice hard and sharp.

  Ilaria opened up her mouth, the teeth hovering over his wrist. She bit and tore it open again, for it had healed closed while she hesitated. With a throaty growl, she fed.

  Marcus tried to stand upright without propping himself up. It was tempting to reach out and grip the ladder for support, but that would trip the bomb. He straightened and swayed, trying to stay on his feet.

  “Bite again,” Rick murmured to Ilaria. “Open it up. Go on.”

  Ilaria moaned and Marcus heard the tearing of flesh and winced.

  “Too much and you’ll be a risk to all of us, Cyneric,” Nial murmured in their ear.

  “Risk how?” Marcus demanded.

  “If he loses too much of his own blood, he’ll trigger his own blood fever,” Nial replied. “Watch him, Marcus.”

  “I’m fine,” Rick said shortly. He dropped his wrist from Ilaria’s mouth and stroked her brow. “Ilaria. Look at me.”

  There was blood on her chin and around her mouth. Her eyes were closed. Rick tapped her cheek. “Look at me,” he commanded.

  Her eyes fluttered open. Her gaze fell upon Rick, then moved to Marcus. Her face crumpled. “No, no, non dovresti essere qui.” She swallowed. “Go away,” she whispered.

  You should not be here.

  Rick moved very carefully behind her and examined the bomb. He closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath. “It’s a collapsable circuit. I can’t disarm it without it going off.”

  Marcus drew in a breath that shuddered, as he looked wildly around the room. What to do? What to do?

  His gaze fell on the cellphone counter. Three minutes. And six seconds.

  No way out.

  Calm washed over him. The breath of icy air touched his face. Utter silence enclosed him and high overhead, he could hear the wind in the treetops.

  “We can’t get the pyrrhus out in three minutes! Fuck!” Sebastian’s voice, hard with fear, was rattling in his ear.

  “This is a high density urban area,” Garrett said over the top of him. “There are thousands of people in a quarter mile radius. It will take them all out...”<
br />
  “Winter, take Dominic and run like hell—” That was Nial.

  Marcus removed the bud and dropped it. “Throw the pyrrhus out,” he told Rick and pointed to the window. “You’re strong. So are Sebastian, Nial and Garrett and Roman. They have to catch them. Put them in the cars and drive. Now. Do it now.”

  Rick’s eyes widened. “Nial, did you hear—?” Then he nodded and turned and picked up the nearest bottle of pyrrhus by the handle. He went to the window, moving faster than Marcus had ever seen anyone move. He didn’t open the window. Instead he smashed the pane with the base of the bottle. He looked out the window, leaning far over to peer at the ground at the base of the building. Then he held the bottle out and let go, then turned back into the room for another one.

  Marcus dug in his pocket for the Swiss Army knife he always carried. There was a small pair of scissors folded up inside it. He opened them out and bent to Ilaria’s ankle. He had to prop himself up on the floor as dizziness swept over him again, and wait for his vision to clear. Then he closed the blades of the scissors over the nylon rip-tie and worked at cutting through the tough plastic, holding the side that was attached to the ladder as steady as he could with his left hand.

  “Two minutes,” Rick said breathlessly. Marcus could hear him moving from the window back to pick up bottle after bottle. He closed his mind to that part of things. Worrying about if Rick would get them all out would slow him down. He kept cutting until he had gnawed his way through the first tie.

  Then he stood up, and waited for the wash of weakness to pass, and started cutting the tie around her wrist. Inside his head, the seconds ticked away.

  The tie parted and dropped to the ground.

  Too weak to bend over again, Marcus shuffled around to her other wrist and began to cut.

  “Marcus,” Ilaria whispered.