Follow Me When the Sun Goes Down (Forged Bloodlines)

by Olsen, Lisa

  I held my breath, tensing with him until Volkov pulled the poker away, half a second before I thought I might break and scream for him to end it. I couldn’t do this… it wasn’t worth it. But the rattle of Bishop’s cuffs drew my attention, as did his shake of the head. If I broke now, Rob’s pain would be for nothing and we’d all be dead.

  If Volkov noticed the brief exchange between Bishop and me, he gave no sign of it, continuing as if nothing interrupted his private monologue. “And such a tolerance for pain,” he added, a touch of admiration in his voice, holding the poker back over the flame again, burning away the bits of charred skin that clung to it. “Let’s see how far it goes.” Without skipping a beat, he pressed the hot poker on the exact same spot. Only this time, he didn’t stop. This time, he pushed it slowly, inexorably towards Rob’s heart, burning and stabbing as Rob let out a scream that tore my soul in two.

  “Stop! Stop it! Stop!” I shrieked, starting forward, only to be forced back in the chair by three of the guards, my head held still so I couldn’t avoid watching the torture. “I’ll tell you what you want to know, just stop it!” Tears fell in earnest as the smell of burning flesh tainted the air and Rob screamed himself voiceless.

  “Interesting,” Volkov paused, but didn’t remove the poker from Rob’s chest.

  “You’re killing him! Please, stop… stop…” My voice came out as little more than a hoarse whisper through my jagged sobs.

  “Anja, he’ll kill us all anyway,” Bishop yelled.

  “I don’t care, just make it stop, I’ll do anything… please!”

  Volkov removed the poker, but held it at the ready. “Let’s hear it then.”

  I drew in a shaky breath, trying to tell if I’d been in time to save Rob, but he’d slumped over, thankfully unconscious now. There was very little blood, the poker cauterizing his flesh as Volkov stabbed, but the smoking hole in his chest gaped terribly. He needed help, and he needed it fast.

  “My name is Anja Evans! I’m not Anja Gudrun, I’m only pretending to be her,” I rushed out. “Now let him go.”

  Volkov clucked his tongue. “That gives me a name, but little else.”

  “Ask me another question then, but let me help him.”

  “Are you the daughter of Carys?”

  “No, I was only turned a couple of months ago, I never even met Carys. So you’re right, my papers are forged, but I did that, not anyone else. It’s all on me.”

  “Surely you don’t expect me to believe that,” Volkov scoffed. “We both know you’re much older than a few months or you wouldn’t have been able to withstand the torture for so long. Now, stop this game or I’ll begin another.” He lifted the poker to Rob’s shoulder this time, and Rob groaned in his sleep at the touch of hot metal.

  “No… stop! I’m telling you the truth. I’m a complete phony, a total sham. The only reason I’m tougher than other newbies is because my Sire was so old and powerful himself.”

  Volkov lifted the poker away. “Is Bishop your Sire then?”

  “No, he’s not. You can have me tested, it’ll prove he’s not my Sire,” I brightened, remembering something Jenessa once said about testing bloodlines.

  “Anja, don’t,” Bishop shook his head. “It’s no use, don’t you see? There’s only one way to make this stop now.”

  Volkov ignored Bishop, his eyes glittering like wet stones. “Whose daughter are you?”

  “I can’t say.” He lifted the poker again and I strained against my captors. “No… it’s not my secret to tell. Ask Sylvius, he knows who I am. He can back my story up and tell you anything you want to know. Just stop,” I pleaded.

  Volkov set the poker down on the table, his smile stretching wide. “We’re finally getting somewhere.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Bishop rested against the damp wall, the jagged stone biting into his exposed back, but he didn’t care. His nerve endings had long ceased screaming at him, and his whole body had become one big, throbbing wound. The deepest among them had already healed, but the toll was great.

  He needed to feed, and soon, or his body would shut down. He could feel it coming.

  Looking down at his arms, the veins stood out starkly in the dim light, his muscles already starting to atrophy. Rob’s blood called out to him from across the small cell, but he ignored it. How long he’d be able to… was another story.

  Anja’s shackles had been replaced, and her head lolled to one side, her eyes half lidded, watching Rob quietly. She had to be feeling the need to feed as well, but the way she gazed at Rob had nothing to do with hunger. He should’ve known her tender heart would betray them in the end, but there was little any of them could do about it now. Volkov would learn the truth from Sylvius, and then it was anyone’s guess what would happen to them next.

  Anja didn’t have any need for license or registration being the daughter of an Ellri, but forging documents was against the law and at the very least, Bishop knew he’d be punished. Still, he didn’t blame her. It was part of why he loved Anja, her capacity to care for others. In the back of his mind it bothered him that she’d caved in the face of Rob’s torture and not his own, but he also knew she expected him to survive it.

  But when Volkov reappeared at the cell door, there was neither the triumph nor chagrin Bishop expected to see at finding Anja the daughter of Jakob. There was a slope of disappointment to his shoulders that led Bishop to believe he’d found the Elder not making much sense.

  “Did he explain everything to you?” Anja’s head came up in anticipation, too unacquainted with the man to read his tells.

  “Sadly, Sylvius was not as receptive to conversation as I’d hoped,” Volkov admitted. “No matter. The details will come out eventually. For now, I have enough to satisfy me that you’ve defrauded the Order and must therefore be put to death.”

  “What?” she gasped at the same time Bishop launched to his feet.

  “This is bullshit, she’s done nothing wrong, it was all me! I forged the documents,” he shouted, his protest losing some of its effect as he overcompensated and nearly tripped over the leg shackles.

  “Bishop! He’s nuts, it’s not his fault at all,” Anja insisted. “I’m the one responsible, it’s all on me.”

  “Ah, Bishop, how you disappoint me,” Volkov shook his head sadly. “I’ve trusted you above all others so many times. I thought you might even take my place one day. However…” The man found his smile again, and it scared Bishop more than the disapproval. “I can’t let a sterling record, hundreds of years in the making, go to ruin all because you had your head turned by a pretty girl.”

  Bishop didn’t want to know what he had in mind, especially when Volkov motioned for the guards to remove his chains. Flexing his wrists, he tried to gauge whether or not he had enough strength left to bust them out of there. Maybe he could make it on his own, but there was no way he’d leave Anja behind.

  “I doubt you could manage it,” Volkov said, as if he could read Bishop’s mind. “But I have something else to offer. Another way for you to redeem yourself.”

  “I don’t want your redemption.”

  “Listen before you make a snap judgment,” Volkov cautioned. “As I said, I value you and your place within the Order. But your crimes are serious. The only way to welcome you back to the fold is if you prove your loyalty to the Order above all else.”

  Bishop knew what was coming next, and his eyes closed, trying to shut him out.

  “If you kill her, I’ll let you live. You’ll be demoted, of course, but you may yet work your way back up through the Order in time. If you refuse… I’ll kill you both.”

  His head was already shaking before Volkov even finished speaking, but before Bishop could answer, Anja spoke up.

  “Do it.”

  Bishop’s eyes popped open to find her staring at him, her entire body sagging with defeat. “You know I won’t.”

  “We’re both dead if you don’t. Do it and save yourself.” Her eyes locked upon his, holdi
ng him fast. “I’m ordering you to do it. There’s no sense in us both dying.”

  “No… this is crazy. I can’t.” He could feel her catch hold of his will, and panic seized him that he might be forced to close those lovely blue eyes forever. Bishop didn’t have it in him to fight her off, he was hers to command, yet he didn’t make a move against her. “I can’t…” he said with more vigor, stunned to find it was true. Anja couldn’t compel him into doing something he truly didn’t want to do. Did that mean… was the rest of what he felt for her all real?

  Volkov had no patience for Bishop’s epiphany, letting out a heavy sigh. “Fine, kill them both then.”

  “No!” Bishop yelled, buoyed by his revelation. “You have to tell them about him, Anja. It’s the only way to save your life.”

  Anja’s brows drew together studying him in confusion at his refusal to obey her. “No way. I don’t have any proof anyhow.”

  “Proof of what?” Volkov demanded.

  “I’m still at fault here, but Anja doesn’t need a license and registration,” Bishop responded, willing to say or do anything to keep her safe.

  “Bishop, don’t do this,” Anja pleaded. “This doesn’t have to get any more screwed up than it already is. I’m the only one who has to be punished here.”

  “I forged the documents, but she didn’t need them in the first place.”

  Volkov snorted in derision. “Why not? Are you expecting me to believe she’s Ellri?”

  “No, but I am,” a booming voice sounded from the hall.

  Bishop sagged against the wall, the sharp fear for Anja’s safety subsiding as all heads turned to the imposing man. He’d never been so glad to see him in all four hundred and sixty-four years of his life. The guards weren’t quite sure how to react to his sudden appearance, but could sense the power radiating from the powerful Ellri. Only Volkov’s face remained pinched with disdain, too wrapped up in his own self importance to realize penitence was advisable.

  “Jakob!” Anja sobbed, slumping against the chair in relief.

  “I am Jakob Thorssen and you have wrongfully detained my progeny. Release her now.” He stood a full head taller than Volkov, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. Dressed in an expensively tailored suit of charcoal gray, he looked entirely out of place in the prison wing, but his air of authority was not to be missed. Except by Volkov himself, who was too puffed up with his own importance to notice.

  “Jakob Thorssen is long dead,” the leader of the Order sneered. “And I resent you…” He didn’t get any farther as Jakob calmly reached over and ripped out his throat, tearing through vocal chords and sinew alike. Volkov stumbled backwards, clutching at his throat in mute shock, blood pouring down the front of his shirt.

  “Now then, would anyone else like to explain to me – why is my Anja still in chains?” Jakob looked pointedly to the three other guards still in the room. They scrambled to do his bidding, falling all over themselves in eagerness to set Anja free.

  Instead of going to Jakob’s side, or even Bishop’s, she hurled herself at Rob’s feet the instant she could move, hands fluttering like doves as she tried to tell how bad his wounds were.

  “You’re welcome, petal,” Jakob scowled at the pair.

  “Don’t just stand there, help me,” she cried, her sweet voice throbbing with emotion. “I can’t let him die.” Biting into her own wrist, even though the scent of Rob’s blood must be driving her insane with hunger, Anja pressed her wrist to his mouth, urging him softly to drink.

  And that’s when Bishop realized… he’d lost her. And it was entirely his own fault.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Forget the pull of sexual intimacy, I was far too freaked out over Rob’s state to feel much more than a slight discomfort as he drank from my wrist. Maybe it’s because I needed to feed myself, but I didn’t care. His heart beat far too faintly for my comfort, and the damage to his chest was so grotesque, I couldn’t look at it. “Please be okay,” I murmured, wrapping my free arm around him. “You have to be okay.”

  “You can’t let her give him much of her blood,” Bishop said to Jakob, who didn’t look too thrilled with it either, but knew better than to challenge me over it after what happened with Chad.

  “He’s in no danger of turning.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Have you taken a close look at her? She’s far too weak to part with any of her blood, she’s dangerously close to passing out herself.”

  “Why should she be…” Jakob looked at me, really looked at me for the first time, taking in my ruined dress and the crusty bloodstains, his mind assembling the pieces of what that must’ve meant for me, despite the fact that I bore very little outward sign of my ordeal. “What did you do to her?” he thundered, picking up Volkov by the shirt, only to toss him aside when he couldn’t make more than a gurgling sound in response.

  “Jakob, don’t…” I said weakly, but he ignored me, his rage too great.

  “You three, kneel before me.” Jakob’s eyes blazed as he exerted his will over them on the minute chance that they might disobey. “I set the Order to uphold the law, never to torture and maim. Did you know my Anja was being harmed in this cell?”

  The first guard nodded, his eyes wide as saucers. “Yes, but I didn’t…”

  In the blink of an eye Jakob snapped his neck. The guard slumped to his side, the wound severe enough to render him unconscious, but not dead. At least… I thought so. Volkov still bled out in the corner, holding fast to his throat. The scent of it made my mouth water.

  “We didn’t know she was yours,” the next guard sputtered, before Jakob could ask him a single thing. “We were just following orders.”

  “No one should be treated thus while under your care. The fact that she’s mine only makes it that much more heinous a crime.” Jakob snapped his neck as well, turning to the third guard.

  “This isn’t what I signed up for when I joined the Order,” the third guard babbled. “When he hurt her it made me sick, I swear. Please, show mercy, master.” He cringed, hands coming up to shield his neck pathetically.

  I thought Jakob would snap his neck too without thinking twice, but instead, he straightened his shoulders. “Go and assemble every last member of your wretched Order and wait for me in the Hall.” Leaning close, he sniffed deeply at the man’s neck. “Do not think to cross me, I will surely find you if you choose to try escape.”

  “I’ll go get them at once.” The guard stumbled and almost fell over the fallen bodies of his comrades on the way out. “It may take some time to get some of the ones out in the field to come but… I’ll… I’ll get them here right away, yeah?” Once in the hallway, he broke into a dead run, and I almost felt sorry for the little rat. Almost.

  “And you…” Jakob whirled on Volkov who had recovered enough to drop his hand from his throat, but still lacked the power of speech.

  “Jakob,” Bishop said sharply.

  “What is it, Ulrik? You want the chance to settle accounts with your captor? You can have him after I’m finished with him,” Jakob replied irritably.

  “Anja…”

  Jakob’s head swung back around, almost as though he’d forgotten me sitting there with Rob half in my lap. Where Rob drank from my wrist burned now, but I didn’t stop him – he needed the blood more than I did.

  “Stop now, älskling, he’s out of danger,” Jakob crooned, offering me his hand. “Your need is much greater.”

  “I’m fine, I just need to give him a little more, to make sure he stabilizes.” I shook my head, more than a little worried when the room kept shaking even when my head stopped.

  “I’m much better, ta,” Rob said weakly, releasing his hold on my arm. The wound on his chest had closed up and I could feel his heart beating steadier, but he was still too weak for my tastes.

  “Take my blood, it will make you strong.” Jakob knelt before us, his brawny wrists held out as an offering.

  Ellri blood would heal Rob in no time, and the thought of
that heady nectar was enough to make me nearly swoon in anticipation. But I couldn’t, not yet. “Give some to Bishop too then, they were worse to him.”

  “I don’t need it,” Bishop shook his head, but I wasn’t about to let him wriggle out of it so easily.

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Ulrik knows his own mind. If he refuses my blood let it be on his head,” Jakob huffed.

  “I’ll take some of his.” Bishop’s eyes lit upon Volkov, lying helpless in the corner of the room. He’d lost a great deal of blood, but his body worked hard to replace it, rendering him just as weak as we were. Bishop fell up on him with a growl, fangs plunging into Volkov’s neck, despite the handicap of his hands still being bound.

  “I offer my sacrament, let it make you whole,” Jakob said formally, turning his back on Bishop to focus on Rob and me.

  Rob lowered his gaze to Jakob’s wrist, uttering the required response, his voice particularly hoarse, even for him. “I drink of your blood and pledge my fealty to you. May your line endure, childe of the gods.” Jakob seemed pleased by the words. I took hold of Jakob’s wrist and bit into it deeply, briefly tasting the powerful elixir before giving it to Rob, who lacked the teeth to manage it himself.

  Only then did I take the other wrist offered to me. “You came for me,” I said softly, breathing easier for the first time since I’d woken in the cell.

  “Of course, I came as soon as I heard.” Jakob’s face softened, his thumb brushing along my jaw. “I will always come for you, älskling.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I took your life once, I owed you this much, at least.”

  “Still, thank you.” I blinked back unshed tears, realizing how close I came to losing everything.

  “Drink now. We have time to talk later.”

  Nodding, I glanced briefly at Rob, who watched us both through hooded eyes, his thoughts unreadable. Jakob’s blood swept through me, bringing life back to my body. For the most part it felt invigorating and wonderful, but as the sensation flooded my abused limbs, it also brought with it a new series of aches and pains until it carried me past that point. I felt alive and strong after just a minute or two, the only part of me that still hurt at all was my knee, and I dreaded thinking about the bullet having to be removed.