Nightshade (1)

by Michelle Rowen

  “Stop this car right now,” I demanded.

  “I don’t think you’re getting that you aren’t in control here.”

  “Oh, I’m getting that. You have the gun so you’re the one in control. You’re also the one who’s going to get us both killed.”

  “So you believe that we have some blood servants on our collective ass right now?”

  “No, you’re going to kill us by crashing this car.”

  “Trust me, I’m a very good driver.” His good eye flicked to the rearview mirror again. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll answer a few more questions for you. Help you get your mind off things.”

  He took the next corner so fast I would have ended up in his lap if I wasn’t wearing my seat belt. I grabbed hold of where it cut across my chest and held on tightly.

  The moment I had the chance, I’d get away from him. With or without that cell phone. Escape was all I wanted right now.

  Questions. I had so many of them, but where to begin? I sorted through the cluttered mess in my head and latched onto the first thought that presented itself to me.

  “How did you lose your eye?”

  “Noticed that, did you?”

  “The eye patch gave it away.”

  “Figured it might.” He touched it casually, as if he wasn’t going a hundred miles an hour. “Lost this to a rogue who clawed it out with his fingernails. I’d dragged him into the sun. As the eyeballs were melting out of his head and he was screaming in pain, he decided to share a little of the misery with me. It was my own fault for thinking I had him beat. His mate had already scored my face up pretty bad with a knife before I managed to kill her. The blood in my eyes made it difficult to see properly.” He trailed his fingertips along the spiderweb-like scars and then glanced at me. “Glad you asked me to share that fun little anecdote?”

  He said it with such detachment. Such a horrible experience all around, and it was as if it was just another day at the office for him. I wasn’t sure if I should feel bad for him or disgusted.

  I chose disgusted. It was the easier of the two. I wiped my sweaty palms on my thighs. “Thrilled. Guess you need to be more careful now. You only have one eye left.”

  “Thanks for the suggestion. Two more questions and then you hold true to our bargain about shutting that pretty little fucking mouth of yours for the remainder of this trip.”

  He took another abrupt turn, spraying gravel out from under the tires as the car went from a paved road to a dirt one. I braced my hand against the window next to me.

  “Have we lost them?” I couldn’t see the silver car in the side-view mirror anymore.

  “It’s possible. Now you have one more question.”

  I glared at him. “That wasn’t a question, it was a ... an inquiry.”

  “One question left,” he said again.

  I blinked and felt the sting of tears. Frustration and fear. It was getting to me. I was trying to hold it together, but I was finding it more difficult with each passing moment.

  “Would you have killed me in that alley if you’d been told to?”

  “Yes,” he replied without hesitating.

  I’d expected that answer, but it was still enough to send an uncontrollable shiver through me. “Do you always do everything you’re told?”

  “You’re officially out of questions.” He brought the car to a lurching stop behind what looked like an abandoned gas station. We’d reached an unpopulated area a few miles off the highway. He inched the car forward until we could see a bit of road past the building covered in peeling white paint.

  “Declan—”

  He held a hand up. “Be quiet.”

  I pressed my lips together and waited. There was a churning sensation in my stomach that didn’t feel right. I touched my forehead to find it damp with perspiration. My hands were now clammy as well.

  “I don’t feel so good,” I said.

  And I didn’t. It was like a slow-moving wave coming for me. I saw it in the distance and knew what it meant, but there was no way for me to get out of its way in time.

  When my stomach cramped, it brought with it a sensation like a knife tearing through my core.

  I gasped for breath and reached for the handle. “Let me out.”

  “You’re not going anywhere. We’re waiting here until we see the servants go by. Five minutes before we get back on the road.”

  My heart had doubled its pace. I kept trying to open the door but it was locked. I couldn’t find the strength to unlock it.

  “Please.” My voice was so weak that it sounded truly pathetic. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t brace myself against the agony that ripped through my body. It felt as if I’d ingested the poison orally. It centered on my stomach and lashed its razor-sharp claws out in all directions.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you?” Declan asked gruffly before he grabbed hold of my chin and moved my face so he could see me. A frown furrowed his brow as he registered that I wasn’t faking. “Fuck.”

  The pain let up for a moment, enough for me to take a great gasp of breath. “I’m going ... to be ... sick.”

  Without further argument, he reached over me and fumbled with the lock, popping it up and pushing open the passenger door. Then he undid my seat belt. I still couldn’t move. I couldn’t run if my life depended on it. And, actually, it currently did.

  It only took seconds before he’d exited his side and come around to mine, grabbing hold of me and pulling me out of the car and over toward a small patch of dry, dead grass.

  “Then be sick,” he said.

  And I was. I puked everything that was in my stomach and that, too, felt like knives carving their way out of me. It tasted like acid, sour and rancid as I threw up onto the grass. I shuddered and felt my cheeks wet with tears.

  I heard a ripping sound and a moment later there was a piece of black cloth at my mouth. Declan had torn off a piece of his shirt so I could mop the vomit off my lips.

  What a fucking gentleman.

  That was my last coherent thought before my eyes rolled back into my head and everything went dark.

  The next thing I felt was the sharp sting of a slap across my face, and I gasped as I came to. Still on the grass. Still kneeling there with Declan standing next to me. How long had it been? Only seconds?

  “No time for weakness. We need to get going.”

  He’d slapped me. Bastard. And he’d said he didn’t hit women. He’d kill them if ordered to, but he didn’t hit them.

  I tried to punch him, but he deflected it easily.

  “Really? Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Just kill me,” I begged him. “The pain ... it’s too much.”

  “Life is pain, princess. If this is the worst you’ve ever felt before, then you’re one lucky bitch.”

  Nice.

  Before I could comment on his heartwarming philosophy, he’d grabbed me around my waist and hoisted me back up to my feet. Instead of moving toward the car, though, we moved in the opposite direction, toward a run-down shamble of a house fifty yards behind the gas station.

  “Car?” I asked feebly, the taste of death mixed in my mouth with the bagel and cream cheese I’d had for breakfast.

  “Last-minute change of plans. They’re here. The blood servants have found us. We wouldn’t make it back to the car in time.”

  The pain in my gut now fought with fresh panic. “What?”

  He glared at me. “Like I said before, you’re way too distracting for me. And that weakness is going to get us both killed.”

  4

  I TRIED TO PULL MYSELF TOGETHER. AFTER THROWING up and passing out, the pain was finally lifting. If I had anything to be thankful for today, that would be it. Nothing like experiencing severe pain to make you appreciate not being in pain.

  I didn’t have to be told that we were being followed. Rather, stalked would be a better way to put it. At the house, which was as abandoned as the gas station with dirty, broken windows lining the porch and four rickety s
tairs leading up to the front door, Declan released me. His gun was in his right hand, held slackly at his side even though I could see the muscles flexing up and down his arm.

  Two men and a woman walked past Declan’s car; one of the men took out a knife and slashed the tires. Declan swore under his breath.

  My stomach sank. Couldn’t go too far with a car with flat tires, could we?

  The blood servants slowly approached us. The man in front, sporting a shaved head and black goatee, appeared to have no weapons. He held his hands up in front of him.

  “We don’t want any trouble,” he said.

  “Oh yeah?” Declan raised his gun. “Then get back in your car and leave.”

  “Declan, right?” the man said. “Declan Reyes? How’s the old man doing?”

  He came to a stop about ten feet away, his associates five feet on either side of them. The woman was a blond, nearly as light as I was, and she wore a knee-length black leather coat despite the heat of the day—it was easily over a hundred degrees out here. The other man had cropped red hair and wore a faded gray T-shirt emblazoned with the logo of a rock band I’d never heard of.

  “He’s just fine,” Declan replied.

  “Who’s your friend?” The man’s eyes flicked toward me.

  “She’s not a friend.”

  “She doesn’t look so good.”

  “The flu’s going around.”

  “We want the formula.” The man’s associates remained silent but watchful, and didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by the gun Declan now had raised at their leader’s head.

  “What formula?” Declan asked evenly. It was without humor or even challenge. It was just a question.

  “You didn’t have to kill him, you know. Anderson was worth more to you alive than dead.”

  “I get an itchy trigger finger when somebody’s trying to shoot me. What can I say?”

  “We know about the formula. He told us. We went there today to retrieve and destroy it. Instead, we walked in on a murder scene. Your father isn’t going to be very happy about that.”

  “What do you know about my father?”

  “We know that he likes things just so. And putting a bullet into Anderson’s head isn’t just so. Bad move, Declan.”

  “Like I give a fuck what you think.”

  “Give us the formula and we’ll leave you and your little girlfriend alone.”

  “I’ll cop to killing Anderson, but he didn’t have anything on him. He was trying to flee the city, said something about mindless blood servants after his ass. Maybe I did you a favor. He wasn’t very trustworthy.”

  The man’s lips curved into a smile and he looked past Declan at me. “You sure you want to get involved with this guy, honey? He’s bad news.”

  “I don’t want anything to do with this.” I swallowed hard. “I just want to leave.”

  “Hear that, Declan? That’s got to sting, huh? A face like yours can’t keep the attention of a pretty lady like that. I guess having the flu doesn’t help her see past the fug.”

  “The flu”—Declan turned his head and snarled under his breath to me—“that you need my father’s help to cure or you’re not going to get better. Try to remember that.”

  There was a warning if ever I heard one. And I hated the fact that I believed him.

  He’d told me doctors couldn’t help me. That going to a hospital could only lead to my death—and possibly more blood servants like these ones coming to get me when they realized what I was poisoned with.

  Only one thing stopped me from begging this stranger for help and a ride back to the city, and that was the fact he’d said they meant to destroy the formula. Being that it was inside me at the moment didn’t exactly convince me that the trio would shuttle me to the nearest hospital.

  Even if they did, even if Declan was wrong, he was right about one thing. A normal hospital might not know what to do with me once I got there. It wasn’t as if I’d been doing shots of Drano and just needed my stomach pumped. I had a prototype poison in my blood that had been secretly developed to kill vampires. Hell, if I told a doctor that, they’d have me admitted to the psych ward.

  His father had helped develop this. His father might be able to help me.

  Might.

  At least the wave of nausea and pain I’d felt before had nearly completely passed and I was well enough to stay on my feet, despite the shakiness and the cold sweat dripping steadily down my spine.

  “Stay behind me,” Declan growled.

  I did as he said. For now. After all, being behind the gun was a great deal better than being in front of it.

  “Why don’t you give me the keys to your car?” Declan said to the bald man. “And I’ll let you and your friends live.”

  “You’d do that for us? That’s so nice of you.”

  “I’ll give you ten seconds to comply or I have three bullets in here with each of your names on them.”

  “But we haven’t even introduced ourselves yet.”

  “I’ll make up names for you. Ten ... nine ... eight ...”

  “Matthias wants that formula. And he won’t take no for an answer.”

  There was an almost imperceptible catch in Declan’s voice before he stopped counting. “Matthias.”

  The blood servant nodded. “So you see why it’s vital that we don’t go back empty-handed.”

  “Right,” Declan replied drily. “Wouldn’t want to upset your lord and master, would you?”

  The man smiled. “You’ve met?”

  “Never had the pleasure. If I had, he’d be dead right now.”

  That earned a laugh from all three of the servants. To me, it hadn’t sounded as if Declan was attempting to do stand-up comedy.

  “If you think for a moment you could defeat Matthias, you’re an idiot. He’s king for a reason, you know.”

  I’d moved to an angle that let me see Declan’s lips stretch humorlessly over his white teeth. “I heard he’s only king because he keeps the real king locked away in a coffin somewhere.”

  The laughter faded. “You heard that, did you?”

  “I did.”

  “From where?”

  “You’re not the only one with sources.”

  “Our sources are reliable.”

  “So are mine. Now, we were talking about those car keys of yours? You did slash my tires. It’s the least you can do.”

  “Seems we’re at a bit of a standoff. You want my keys and we want to know where you’ve stashed that formula.”

  “I don’t have it.”

  The man shrugged. “I guess I just don’t believe you.”

  Did these people know that Declan was a dhampyr? Would that make any difference to them? And what were they talking about with this Matthias person. A vampire king?

  I had no idea that going out on a coffee break today would help me take a nosedive directly down the rabbit hole.

  “Declan—” I wasn’t even sure what I wanted to ask him. Maybe for some assurance that everything would be okay. How insane was my day if I was now looking for assurances from somebody like him?

  “Keys,” Declan said to the man again, ignoring me. “Or you’re going back to Matthias in a body bag.”

  “Thing is,” the leader said with a fierce look on his face, “I embrace my death. I’m loyal to my king where others may falter. Laying my very existence on the line in order to help him destroy the poison you and your ignorant people had developed to annihilate an entire species—”

  “That species doesn’t deserve to live,” Declan bit out through clenched teeth. “They’re evil leeches who drain the life from their victims, leaving bodies in their wake.”

  “Sounds like a hunter to me.”

  “I only kill what needs to be killed.”

  “Everything and everyone deserves a fighting chance at life, be it predator or prey.” The leader took a step closer. “And who the fuck are you to say any differently? Nice god complex there, asshole. Did you learn that from your father? I�
�ve heard things about him and the people he works for. Bad things.”

  “Everybody’s a critic.”

  “Declan,” I said louder, but he paid no attention to me. I had a very bad feeling about where this was going.

  “I choose to give my life for Matthias,” the man said, taking yet another step closer. “So he can live eternally.”

  The next moment, he launched himself at Declan. I jumped at the sound of the gunshot. The bullet hit the man in his chest and he staggered back a few steps, looking down with surprise at the wound before he raised his fierce gaze, bared his teeth, and surged forward again.

  Declan didn’t hesitate. He fired two more shots, one to the chest and one to the head. That ended it. The man dropped heavily to his knees and then hit the ground at Declan’s feet, face first.

  “Bad choice,” Declan said to the dead man.

  A strangled cry escaped my throat and Declan turned to look at me.

  “Get back to the car and lock yourself in,” he said. “Now.”

  What happened next was so quick I could barely follow it.

  The woman approached Declan fearlessly and kicked the weapon away from him. Without lowering her leg she kicked again, higher, thrusting the sharp stiletto heel of her shoe deep into Declan’s shoulder before he could dodge the blow.

  Blood streamed down his bicep, past the short sleeve of his shirt. Declan grabbed her leg, pulling the silver heel out of his injured shoulder, and twisted it hard, forcing her to hit the ground heavily.

  Then he turned and smashed his fist into the other servant’s face, who had in his right hand the knife he’d used to slash Declan’s tires. Blood burst from the man’s mouth and he stumbled back a step.

  The woman jumped back up, eyes flashing. She was adept at some kind of martial arts, like something out of a movie. She aimed her foot, lethal-heel out, toward Declan’s jugular this time. He deflected it and got her fist in his face instead. He grabbed her, his arm coming around her throat, but she fought hard against him and broke free, spinning around to kick him again with her sharp heel.

  I’d never seen a woman fight like this in real life. For a blond no taller than me, she was deadly.