“You will if you know what’s good for you,” Zakara snapped and flicked her long fingers toward Christine’s door. “You’ll stay still until we reach my lair.”
The latch snapped shut, and Christine’s arms immediately went to her sides, pinned by some unknown force. She struggled against it, but she couldn’t do a thing. The magical spell Zakara had woven was far too strong for her to break.
Christine could only look straight ahead at the coming night. Dark purple fingers spread like bruises across the sky in an effort to drown the vestiges of the dying sun. She blinked. Drake wouldn’t save her, especially once he knew what she’d planned. She was able to lower her head. She got exactly what she deserved. Drake, I’m sorry. I love you! Her mind cried. Always remember that.
Christine focused on the road ahead, taking in the scenery around her. Drake had told her countless times that, since he’d drunk her blood, he held a special bond with her. “Do with me what you want, but don’t hurt the baby or Drake.”
Zakara’s low, throaty laugh, full of menace and evil, filled the car. “Oh, I intend to but first, I don’t want you to see anything. The last thing I want is for Drake to find you—or what’s left when I’m through.”
Christine’s vision clouded over and turned black. She wanted to cry or scream at the injustice, but with Zakara’s hold, she could do nothing. How in the hell was she going to get Drake to find her?
Maybe, if he still loved her, she could provide the clues to her whereabouts she saw before Zakara took her sight—that is if he chose to come and claim her.
* * * *
“Drake, I’m sorry. I love you! Always remember that.”
The moment Christine’s words drifted into his mind, Drake shot his head up from the plans he’d been going over with the architect who was designing his new club.
“So you see, with the aesthetics here,” the architect pointed out on the stack of blueprints, “you’ll have the most unique club there is.”
Drake closed his eyes and listened to every thought echoing through his head. He felt her fear and tasted the terror racing through her mind.
“Show me more,” he commanded.
Searching through the vast connective tissues of her brain, he discovered what he wanted. Liz pulled up to the curb in front of some clinic downtown, Christine bending in the window. Liz stated that he was hurt…his fists clenched as raw unabashed rage pounded against his system, causing a red haze to form in front of his eyes.
“We’ll discuss this another time,” he snapped as he walked out. “My secretary will make another appointment for you.”
He disregarded the architect’s protests, but he didn’t care at the moment. Christine and his baby were in trouble, and Zakara had a hand in it.
Drake jumped into his Jaguar and flipped the key. The engine roared to life, and he sped off to his house. On the way, he dialed Raphael. “Meet me at my house and bring the others.”
“What’s going on?”
“Meet me there in five minutes.” He snapped his phone shut and drove carefully through the streets all the while trying to keep a lid on his emotions. Damn that bitch to hell! How dare she take what belonged to him?
* * * *
Raphael stared at the silent phone in his hand. Ending the call, he set the phone on the nightstand. Drake sounded odd, as if his emotions were running out of control. He’d never heard his friend like that.
“Get up,” he ordered Liz, still not liking the ring of desperation in Drake’s normally controlled voice. “We’ve got to go to Drake’s.”
Liz shot up, holding the covers up to her bountiful, naked breasts. “What’s going on?”
Raphael bolted out of bed, drew on a pair of jeans, and slammed his feet into his boots. “I don’t know, and I don’t like it. Whatever the situation, I’m sure it has the stink of Zakara’s touch all over it.”
Liz’s expression dropped. She shot out of bed and dressed with lighting speed. “What in the fuck are we waiting for? Let’s go!”
He grinned. His Elizabeth. One thing he had always loved about her was her senses of loyalty and love. “You got it, sexy lady,” he said, swatting her on the ass playfully.
His cock hardened and lengthened behind the metal zipper, becoming quite uncomfortable quickly. He grinned. Somehow, she always the power to excite him no matter what the situation.
* * * *
Drake zipped into his driveway and flew out of the driver’s seat, tossing the keys to Henry, his car caretaker. He stormed through the foyer down the hallway to his study. He stepped inside, fighting the urge to plant a fist through the wall while a million questions stormed his mind. What was she doing at the clinic in the first place? Did she think she would have an abortion and he not find out about it?
He paced with the rigor of a tiger ready to pounce, his muscles tense and ready to snap at any moment. She’d better still be pregnant—or else.
Drake stopped his pacing and closed his eyes. He connected with her and tested the rhythm of her body. Using his powers, he traveled down her veins and arteries until he reached the main artery into her uterus. His child lay nestled inside a protective bubble of amniotic fluid peacefully asleep, unaware of what was going on, its thumb firmly planted in its mouth blissfully.
He fell to his knees on the floor. Dear God, she’d changed her mind.
She is still pregnant.
“What’s wrong?” Liz cried out the minute she entered the room. Immediately, she fell to her knees next to him and wrapped her comforting around him.
“Christine’s still pregnant,” he said with a relieved sigh. “That means she still alive and Zakara’s got her somewhere.”
“That bitch,” Alex grumbled the minute she came into the study. Dark flashes of rage raced across her countenance, and her full lips drew tight. “We should have killed her last time.”
He slewed his head in Alex’s direction. “You know we can’t. She’s too strong, and with her father being Satan, he’ll destroy us all.” Drake bolted to his feet. “We’ve got to find her before it’s too late.”
Nicholas laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Just cool your jets for a minute. What we need to do is find where Zakara’s taken her and figure out a way to get past her minions. Is your bond with Christine fairly strong?”
“Oh, yeah. I locked onto her before and managed to see the baby, and I was able to taste her fear of the entire situation. Other than that, nothing.”
“It’s a start,” Nicholas surmised. “Go and search her mind again. She’s a woman, not to mention a cop. They always memorize landmarks of some sort to get where they’re going. Maybe she’s memorized a trail for you to follow.”
Drake dragged his shoulder out from under Nicholas’ hand, one fist pounding his open palm. He should have looked for those as well as checking on the baby. Damn it, how could he have been so stupid? “Give me a minute and I’ll have a bead on her.”
He moved to the window and leaned against the jamb, closing his eyes. Using his increased mental capabilities, he pushed through the myriad of land, earth, time, and space. Normally, he’d be able to get a reading, but this time, dead air greeted him. If his heart had been beating, it would have stopped by now.
Damn it, let me know she’s all right! he demanded of whatever god was listening to his plight.
Unfortunately, nothing about Christine or her whereabouts came to light. Rage colored his vision, making everything appear red and hazy. He’d never been so angry in his life, not even when Zakara turned him against his will. He shook. That bitch had better not take another woman out of his life again, or so help him, he couldn’t be responsible for his actions against her. Liz’s sweet voice broke through his tense wall of thought and his berating.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t fucking get a hold on her,” Drake answered in a very controlled voice, his sanity almost coming into question. “That bitch must have a blanket spell on Christine to keep me from finding her.�
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“Do you remember anything when you went through her mind? Any pictures, landmarks, or anything?” Nicholas probed.
Drake stopped his tirade and leaned against an overstuff leather chair, his head hung low. Closing his eyes, he thought back to his previous connection with Christine and desperately tried to remember anything other than the baby. There were her thoughts then the baby—he slammed his fist against the oxblood leather. “I’ve got it. There were a few things she briefly thought of, possibly markers of a trail she meant for me to follow.”
“Tell us!”
Drake’s anger dissipated like the slow melt of ice in the Norwegian spring. He had something in mind for Zakara. “In a minute, but I’ve thought of a way to punish Zakara and possibly bind her for quite a long time.”
Raphael’s brow lifted. “We’ve tried that before, but somehow she manages to break through with the help of her father.”
He glared at all of them. “Leave it to me.”
* * * *
“Don’t hurt this one,” Zakara ordered in a chillingly controlled voice.
Christine still couldn’t see or move, but she could hear everything going on around her. With her vision taken out of commission, she concentrated on her surroundings. Distant running water meant she was probably close to the WalsallaRiver. Owls shrieked in the distance as they swooped up and down looking for their evening meals. Coyotes bayed, and she assumed the moon started rising. Okay, twilight had fallen.
“Listen to everything I’m hearing, Drake,” she said silently. “This will give you some indication of where I am.”
Sharp creaks of wood groaned in the night air, mingled with a much smaller sound of water running over stones. She listened harder, trying to remember where she’d heard that before.
Rough hands guided her on a nonexistent path. The shrieks of wood against wood rose in her right, almost seemingly like it was a wheel moving back and forth.
She stiffened under the strong fingers digging into the meat of her arm. Now she realized where she was! The old abandoned wheat mill near the WalsallaRiver. It had been abandoned midcentury for being all too archaic, especially when large companies could grind the flour for half the price.
Christine had been here many times as a child, sometimes having hidden out here for a day or two when Mom was on her crack kick. Mentally, she drummed up an image of the building she remembered with its weathered, loose boards and scary mill wheel. Owls roosted in the empty attic, the squeaks of their owlets mingling with the sharp wildness of the night. “Follow me, Drake. Remember everything.”
Twigs snapped beneath her feet, and it seemed as though she walked for an eternity. Her legs grew tired, and she needed to rest, but she didn’t dare ask the vampire bitch if she could stop. Besides, she didn’t want them to think she was weak and easy.
A tiny voice echoed in the halls of her mind. “Where are we going, Mommy?”
She almost halted in midstride, unable able to comprehend what just happened. Did her baby just talk to her? Christine dismissed the notion as a figment of her imagination. She was just too tired and worn out.
“I want my daddy,” the frightened voice said. “Where’s Daddy?”
The small, childlike voice creeped her out completely. How could an almost five-month-old fetus talk? This was utterly insane. She’d heard of pregnant women doing strange things but had never heard of hearing strange voices.
Hollow clinks of rock against rock rose in the air, replacing the soft grass and dry leaves. So she must be close to Duffy’s Cavern near the old mill. They probably chose this place because of its dark, shadowy remoteness.
The well-muscled hand holding her arm jerked her to a stop. “Wait here, ma’am,” he ordered in a soft Southern drawl and held her in place.
Soft footfalls glided toward her, mingled with a strange exotic perfume. Zakara must be nearby.
“I’ve decided to give you your vision back to you,” she stated in a flat tone.
Christine kept her chin held high. “Aren’t you worried I’ll be showing Drake visions of where I am?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Fear pounded along her spine but she refused to show it to Zakara.
“I’ve shrouded you in a spell to keep you from Drake’s prying eyes. By the time he finds you, there won’t be anything left.” Zakara laughed low and evilly. “Have your sight back.”
The black haze started to clear with a pinprick-sized hole in the center of her vision, widening farther much like a camera lens. She blinked hard a few times, clearing away the last of the cloudiness. Night had indeed fallen with the stars twinkling in the dark sky like tiny diamonds. She blinked and fought back the tears. How was she going to get through to Drake?
Chapter Eleven
Her captor hustled her into the unwelcoming opening of the cavern, the wide mouth yawning like a toothless old man in his bed. Christine carefully put her hands out to avoid any traitorous objects sticking out or anything that could potentially trip her.
She looked back at the dying light at the entrance and saw the person who had dragged her over what seemed like miles. His brown hair touched his collar, and his sideburns were a lot longer than what was in fashion. He wore a normal-looking T-shirt and jeans, yet he still seemed out of place.
“Come along, ma’am. We ain’t got all day,” the man behind her said. She detected a slight Southern drawl in his accent. Texas perhaps? “Gotta keep moving.”
“You’ve got a nice voice. Where are you from?” she asked in a friendly tone, hoping to possibly find some help in her situation. One of the best things to get someone to lower their guard was to get them to talk about themselves.
“Atlanta, ma’am.”
Christine stopped in her tracks and turned to him. Time to use her detective skills. “Let me guess. You were in the Civil War.”
“You mean the War of Northern Aggression? Yes, ma’am, I was.”
The expression on his face relaxed a bit, indicating his guard dropped slightly. He appeared young, not even twenty. He slid a chilly hand over her shoulder and spun her around.
“We need to move along.”
She shifted her feet. “Okay.” Somehow, she felt less threatened in his presence. Zakara disappeared somewhere, but she wasn’t sure where. The others went with her, leaving Christine alone with this man.
“What regiment were you with?” she inquired as the path opened up into a much larger cavern. A small fire burned near the center, the dim orange glow of the flames creating dancing shadows on the glittering quartz-encrusted wall.
“I was with the 24th regiment out of Georgia,” he replied and urged her toward the blankets lying out in front of the fire. “Have a seat.”
She lowered herself to the ground, completely grateful they’d at least brought several blankets for her. She stuck her hand out. He looked at her curiously for a moment then slipped his hand into hers. “I’m Christine McCall,” she told him. “What’s yours?”
The lines of tenseness disappeared from his features as he lowered himself to the ground as well, crossing his legs one over the other Native American style.
“Zachary Davis,” he offered. A dimple appeared on his left cheek. “I’m sorry about this, Miss McCall, but when the Queen demands something, she gets it.”
She detected a subtle note of regret in his voice. She could use his sympathy for her to help in her escape. “It’s all right, Zach—may I call you Zach?”
He nodded.
“My boyfriend is out looking for me right now, and well, I don’t think he’s going to be a very pleasant vampire to be around when he finds me.”
Zach’s light green eyes widened a bit. “You mean that big hulking Viking looking vampire is your mate?” His lips formed an o. “I’ve heard stories about him.”
“Enough about him for now,” she said with a smile. “I’d like to learn more about you.”
He blanched a little whiter when she said that. “I don’t think that’
s a good idea, ma’am.” Zach pulled a small haversack that saw better days over next to him and drew out a few items. “Are you hungry?”
“Always, now that I’m eating for two.”
Zach let out a long whistle and handed her a tin can of chicken spread and a few crackers. She accepted them, half wondering if it was poisoned.
“I’ve heard about women like you, but I ain’t never seen one,” he announced in that low Southern drawl she might have found sexy before she knew Drake. “I thought that was all legend.”
With a quick tug on the pop top, she had the can open and a cracker into the spreading, swirling the pale mush around. She shrugged, trying to play the situation off as casually as possible despite the terror screaming along her veins. “Apparently not.” She paused. “Can you tell me a bit about your life?”
Zach looked around as if checking to make sure no one else was around. She sensed that Zakara frightened the crap out of Zach. “I ain’t really supposed to be talking to ya, ma’am, but since the Queen ain’t ’round, I suppose it’ll be all right.” He leaned back on the heels of his hands and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. “Whatcha wanna know?”
“What was it like then?” She dug a bit of the tasteless glob out and slipped it into her mouth. She attempted to hold back her grimace. “You know, during the war.” She’d always been a closet reader of history, especially during the Civil War. Her great-great-great-grandfather had fought and died for the Southern cause.
“Not like now. We didn’t have no modern conveniences like you folks today have, like microwaves and TVs. We hadda cook our meal outdoors during the war and most of tha time it wasn’t edible. We ate it anyway ’cause it’s all we had. Right before the battle of Fredericksburg, I was so sick of horsemeat I could barely get on my mount.”
She caught the twitch of a grimace at the corner of his mouth, and her belly complied with a twist of its own. “That had to be horrible,” she commiserated, the bile rising in her throat. “I couldn’t imagine eating a horse.”
Ranson, Tracy L. - Prince of Darkness [Bloodborn 3] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 17
