Alexandra Sabian 2 - Blood Secrets

by Jeannie Holmes

  Alex had been in there, recently.

  Circling the bed, he noted the signs of a struggle and knelt before a window. A few drops of blood stained the hardwood floor. He dipped his finger in one of the congealed puddles and rubbed together his finger and thumb. The warmth of his skin released a faint smell of leather and decay.

  He stood, wiping the blood on the leg of his jeans. It was the Dollmaker’s blood, not Alex’s, and he suppressed a smile. If she was fighting hard enough to draw blood, his chances of locating her greatly increased.

  Another thump sounded nearby and this time he was able to determine it came from the hallway. Sliding to the door, he peeked around the corner and saw only an empty corridor. He waited a moment in case someone appeared from one of the other rooms. The hall remained empty.

  Varik left the bedroom to resume his search, passing an oversized print of Duchamp’s Nude Descending a Staircase. A small draft ruffled his hair as he passed, and the scent of jasmine and vanilla combined with leather and old blood hit him once more. He turned back to the framed print as it swung outward and a body slammed into him, knocking him to the floor and sending his Glock tumbling down the stairs.

  He used the momentum of his attacker and kicked upward with both feet, launching the assailant over his head. Varik completed the backward somersault motion to land in a kneeling position.

  A tall blond vamp charged him, the flash of metal in his hands.

  Varik blocked one blow but the other found its target. He grunted as a scalpel sliced open a gash along his left biceps. The blond vamp continued to slash at him. Varik gathered his legs beneath him and, with a roar, launched himself into the other’s midsection.

  They crashed into the wall beside the stairs, cracking plaster and sending plumes of dust into the air. Varik used his knee to dislodge one of the scalpels while he kept a grip on the Dollmaker’s other arm.

  Peter used his scalpel-free hand to punch Varik in the side of the throat. Varik gagged and stumbled back. He tried to clumsily dodge another swipe with the remaining scalpel but the thin blade connected with his chest, opening a wound diagonally from his right shoulder to his breastbone.

  “She’s mine,” Peter snarled, dropping into a crouch. “She came to me!”

  “You took her,” Varik snapped as they circled.

  “I saved her! I showed her the truth about you, about her father, and now she loves me, not you.” He smiled. “She’s already forgotten all about you.”

  The blood-bond opened and Varik cried out as pain seared his mind. He sank to his knees, helpless as Peter manipulated the bond to show him the hell in Alex’s mind.

  Memories—their memories—were nearly all gone, burned away and new ones erected in their place. Tears of agony tracked down his cheeks as he writhed on the floor at the Dollmaker’s feet.

  “You see now,” Peter said calmly, kneeling beside Varik. “I’ve already touched her more deeply than you could ever dream of doing.”

  Varik groaned as another wave of fire burned his brain.

  “I made her forget about you. Only a few memories to go and then she’ll be completely mine.” He grabbed the front of Varik’s bloody shirt, pulled him to his feet, and walked him to the stairs. “And after I kill you, I’ll finish what I started. I’ll mindfuck her and when she no longer even remembers your name, I’ll fuck her body until she cries out my name.”

  Teetering on the edge of the first step, Varik growled, “I’ll kill you first.”

  “You can try.”

  Varik frantically grabbed for Peter and then the stair railing as he was shoved backward. He hung suspended in mid-air for a moment before crashing into the hard edges of the staircase. He felt something snap in his lower left leg as he tumbled head over heels to land in a battered heap at the bottom.

  Laughter rang from above. “And he sticks the landing!”

  Using the banisters and handrail, Varik maneuvered into sitting position. Footsteps banged on the stairs overhead. Groaning with the effort, he pushed to his feet and gritted his teeth, ignoring the sharp pain in his left leg as he hobbled to the fireplace. He found a set of rusted iron tools and grabbed the longest poker.

  Peter skipped the last two steps, laughing as Varik haltingly turned to face him and hefted the poker like a bat. “You’re going to beat me to death with a poker?” He snorted with laughter. “Oh, now that’s original.”

  “Who said it was for you, asshole?” Varik rasped and swung the poker at the nearest display case.

  “No!”

  Glass shattered and porcelain doll heads disintegrated. The stench of decay intensified as the blood contained within the heads was exposed to the air for the first time since being sealed away.

  Peter shrieked and clutched his head in pain.

  Varik raked a line of dolls off a shelf, destroying them.

  Peter howled.

  He smashed another display case.

  Peter roared and leapt forward.

  Varik met his charge, thrusting the poker like a sword before him. The poker pierced Peter’s flesh below the breastbone, impaling him on the hooked end.

  The Dollmaker dropped to his knees, eyes wide. He clawed at Varik and blood bubbled from his mouth as he tried to speak, but no words came forth.

  Varik released the poker and let him crumple to the floor. For the first time, he heard sirens wailing, growing louder as they approached. His eyes shot to the stairs. “Alex.”

  Using the wall for balance, he stepped over the struggling vampire and limped toward the stairs. He reached the steps and balanced himself between the wall and handrail. On one foot, he bunny-hopped up the first flight.

  Sirens whooped outside as Damian and the others arrived. Varik gritted his teeth and repeated the process to hop up the remaining flight of stairs to the second floor.

  Downstairs, the front door banged open and a cacophony of shouts filled the house.

  Varik located the oversized Duchamp print in the hallway. He knew it concealed a door, if he could just find the opening trigger.

  “Varik!” Damian’s voice boomed downstairs.

  He didn’t answer. He ran a hand over the edges of the ornate frame and felt a hidden latch. When he flipped the trigger, the concealed door swung open to reveal another narrow set of stairs.

  “Baudelaire!” Damian called. “Answer me, goddamn it!”

  He tried to bunny-hop the new stairs but their narrowness prevented it. “Alex!” He listened for a response or any sign of movement. “If you can hear me, answer me, baby!”

  Silence rang in his ears.

  Fear spurred him into action. Grimacing with each step that scraped over his injured leg, he crawled on hands and knees up the stairs.

  He reached the attic and saw Alex lying motionless a few feet from the stairs. “Alex?”

  She didn’t move.

  “Baby,” he called, crawling to her. “Baby, it’s me. I’m here.” Her face was turned away and he gently moved her head toward him.

  Unseeing emerald eyes stared into his soul.

  “Alex?” He shook her shoulders. “Alexandra!” He felt for a pulse at her throat and found none. “No, no, no! Don’t do this to me! Alex!”

  Stampeding footsteps rushed up the stairs. Damian and two Enforcers carrying medical kits entered the attic. One of the medics knelt beside Alex and began CPR while the other attempted to check Varik’s wounds.

  “I’m fine,” he growled and pushed the medic away. “Help her.”

  The medic glanced at Alex and then Damian, who nodded, and the medic slid over to assist his partner.

  Varik stayed beside her, holding her hand. “I can’t lose her, Damian,” he whispered as the big vampire squatted next to him. “Not like this.”

  Damian gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

  As the medics continued to work on Alex, tears fell from Varik’s face to land on Alex’s hand. Minutes ticked by with no change and it took Varik a moment to realize the medics had ceased their ef
fort.

  “Why did you stop? Don’t stop! She’s not—” His words ended in a strangled choke. “She’s not …”

  “Varik,” Damian said softly. “They’ve done all they can. She’s gone.”

  He shook his head. “No. I don’t believe that. I would know. I would feel it!”

  “You have to let her go.”

  “No!” Varik shoved Damian away. “She’s not dead! We’re bond-mates! I would know!” Pain ripped through him, tearing his soul in two. He brushed away the hair from her face. “I would know,” he whispered.

  He gently gathered her in his arms. As he looked into her unblinking eyes, anger burned away his grief and he lifted his head, shouting at the ceiling. “Bernard! You bring her back to me! Do you hear me? Bring her back like you brought me back!”

  Fresh tears flowed in the tracks left by others as he looked down at Alex. “Bring her back,” he whispered. He rocked in place with her. “Bring her back … bring her back … bring her back …”

  twenty-two

  ALEX OPENED HER EYES AND DISCOVERED A GRAY GRANITE tombstone inches from her face. She sat up, looking around at the rows of stone monuments and scattered trees. It was a landscape she knew too well—St. Michael’s Cemetery in Louisville, the place where she’d discovered her father’s body.

  Resting her back against the grave marker, she tried to remember what happened and how she’d gotten to the Shadowlands. Her mind was a jumble of distorted images and emotions. The more she tried to make sense of it, the less sense the images actually made.

  “Hello, Princess.”

  She wasn’t surprised to see her father strolling toward her. “Hi, Daddy.”

  He stopped in front of her. Worry knitted his brow as he studied her.

  His silence wore on her. “Is there something wrong? Do I have something in my teeth?”

  “How did you get here, Princess?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I just sort of woke up here. Why?”

  “Look behind you.”

  Alex glanced over her shoulder at the tombstone and gasped. She spun around in order to better see the name carved in the stone. “Is this real?”

  “It can be. It’s for you to decide.”

  She traced the outline of each letter with her finger: Alexandra Marie Sabian. “Am I dead?” she whispered, looking to him as he knelt beside her.

  “Mostly. Your physical body has no heartbeat, no breath, no pulse, but you haven’t fully crossed over into the spirit realm. Your soul’s in limbo, for lack of a better term, which is how you came to be here in the Shadowlands.”

  Her head pounded in a staccato rhythm and she groaned, massaging her temples. Memories pressed forward, demanding her attention, only to be replaced by others in an overlapping and confusing tapestry. “How did it happen? I mean, how did I die?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “No. I remember being in an attic with someone.” A recent memory presented itself and she shuddered. “Peter—it was Peter. He attacked me, entered my mind.” A specter of pain rippled through her. “Oh, Daddy … he—” A choking sob replaced her words as the images playing in her mind fell into place and began to make sense.

  Her father gathered her in his arms, holding her tightly while his own voice shook. “I’m sorry, Princess. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”

  Alex clung to him as painful sobs racked her. “He stole them,” she choked. “My memories. Destroyed them.”

  He held on to her and let her cry.

  After several minutes, her sobbing turned to faltering gasps and loud sniffles. “Why? Why would he do that?”

  “Peter is insane, Princess. You can’t look for rhyme or reason with someone like him.”

  False memories of a life with Peter played in vivid color, but a few memories of Varik subverted the counterfeit ones, flowing beneath the surface in shades of gray and creating a confusing mess in her head. It was as though she’d experienced two separate, yet parallel, lives: one with Varik and one with Peter. “How can I still have some of these memories of Varik as well as the ones Peter planted in my head?”

  “The more powerful the memory, the harder it is to destroy. Plus you share a blood-bond with Varik. The bond will preserve some shared memories. It’s also why you haven’t crossed over to the spirit realm. Varik’s keeping you connected to the physical.”

  Alex pushed away from him, wiping her eyes. “Am I stuck here? A lost soul—like you?”

  He gave her a half-smile. “No, Princess, but you do have to decide if you want to cross over or go back.” He held up his hand to stop her from speaking. “Before you say anything, you should know if you cross over, the false memories Peter implanted will disappear. You’ll retain all your memories of the life you lived and of Varik.”

  “If I choose to go back?”

  “The memories Peter destroyed will be lost and those he gave to you will take their place.”

  “But you said the bond will retain some of the memories. Will I ever recover those?”

  “In time, perhaps, and with Varik’s help, but you should also know, Princess, the damage Peter caused was extensive. If you go back, you’ll only have a partial memory of Varik.”

  “It’ll be like I’m blood-bound to a virtual stranger.”

  He nodded.

  She slumped against the headstone bearing her name. “I need time to think.”

  Her father stood and sighed. “Of course, but don’t wait too long. The longer you’re away from your body, the harder the transition will be if you decide to return.”

  Alex watched him walk away and disappear among a small stand of trees. She drew her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her shins, and rested her head on her knees in an effort to hide from the predicament in which she found herself.

  In order to retain her memories of Varik, she had to die. However, she could live out her life with him if she returned, but she would bear the false memories implanted by Peter. Regardless of her choice, she would lose Varik in some way, whether it was their past or their future.

  Assuming they had a future. If she returned, she still faced a Tribunal inquiry. If they ruled against her and found her guilty of corruption, the verdict would carry an automatic death sentence. If she crossed over to the spirit realm now, there would be no inquiry.

  But could she be so selfish? Wasn’t it better to answer to the charges and spend any remaining time with Varik, even if that time was spent getting to know each other again?

  She raised her head and was surprised to see a young boy dressed in wet clothes sitting on the headstone across from her.

  “Hi,” he said, a familiar smile lighting his pale face.

  “Hi, Edward.” She leaned back against her headstone and sighed. “What are you doing here?”

  He shrugged. “I wanted to see you.”

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “I heard Papa crying. I think he misses you.”

  She swallowed the painful lump that had formed in her throat. “I miss him, too.”

  “Are you dead?”

  “Not exactly. I’m in limbo.”

  “I’m dead.” He swung his legs back and forth, his heels scuffing along the back of the headstone on which he perched. “What does ‘limbo’ mean?”

  “It means I have to decide if I want to go back or move on.”

  “You could stay here.”

  “I don’t think that’s an option for me.”

  “If you go back, Papa will be happy again. He’s always happy when he’s with you.”

  A smile tugged at Alex’s lips. “Yeah, he makes me happy, too.”

  Edward grinned, reminding her so much of Varik, and Alex knew there could be only one choice for her.

  Tasha paused to allow the medics exiting the attic to pass before she scurried up the steps. Word had spread quickly of Alex and she hadn’t believed it.

  Until now.

  She hovered close to the stairs, watching i
n silence as Varik cradled Alex to his chest and slowly rocked in place with her. His hushed chant of “bring her back” was the only sound in the room.

  Damian moved to stand beside her. “Any word on Strahan?”

  Tasha shook her head. “They’re still working to stabilize him.”

  He nodded grimly.

  “What are you going to do about him?” Tasha whispered, nodding toward Varik. “And her family?”

  “I’ll deliver the news to her family personally. As for him, he needs medical attention. Some of those cuts are deep.” Damian sighed. “There’s only one thing to do.”

  Tasha watched as he stepped forward and knelt opposite Varik, speaking in low tones.

  Varik remained unchanged, as if he hadn’t heard.

  Damian reached for Alex’s body and Varik came to life. He grabbed the larger vampire’s wrist and growled. When Damian laid his other hand on Varik’s shoulder, Varik released the arm he held to bat away the other hand. The two began a war of hands that ultimately ended with Varik grabbing Damian’s sidearm and shoving it in the Chief Enforcer’s face.

  “Get out,” Varik commanded. “No one touches her. She’s coming back. She can’t be moved.”

  “Varik,” Damian addressed him calmly. “Put the gun down.”

  “I said, get out.”

  “She’s not coming back.”

  “Don’t make me kill you, Damian.”

  Tasha held her breath as the two vampires faced off over Alex’s body. Varik’s reluctance to accept Alex’s death was understandable. Even though she’d had her own issues with Alex, it didn’t prevent her from feeling the loss.

  Movement drew Tasha’s attention to Alex and she frowned. Had her fingers twitched? She watched and jumped when she saw the fingers on Alex’s left hand close. “Oh, my God,” she said, pointing at the newly formed fist. “Look at her hand!”

  Damian and Varik both glanced at her and then down.

  Alex suddenly drew a deep breath and immediately coughed it out again.

  Varik dropped the gun to help Alex as she fought to sit up.

  Damian was already on his feet, running to the stairs and shouting for the medics.