by L. D. Rose
Nabila had taken Blaze back to midtown Manhattan, dragging him into the rotting behemoth that was the Chrysler Building.
The Chrysler Building. Of course.
Of course that motherfucker would set up shop here, overlooking the city, watching over the pit where he’d kept Blaze prisoner five years ago. He’d probably watched Blaze destroy it too, blowing it to kingdom come with his spawn inside.
Good. Blaze relished the thought, no matter how dire his situation was now. At least he’d taken out three of them, cutting a gaping hole into Chimola’s elite little army.
Nabila had covered Blaze’s hands with tungsten carbide encasements, his wrists cuffed in an attached chain. She’d used the same safeguard on him in M42; if he attempted to use fire, he would just roast his own hands. Of course, the contraption was now clean where it had once been covered in his own filth, the metal shining in the sunlight that should’ve sent Nabila straight back to the hell she’d come from.
All thanks to the mutant blood running through his veins.
Blaze cursed under his breath as she towed him by the chain through the 42nd street entrance, dragging him through dust, rubble, and grime. His body tremored of its own accord with painful muscle spasms, his stomach cramping in an iron grip of agony. He ground his molars, trying to keep from making a sound, unwilling to give Nabila the satisfaction as she pulled him through shards of glass and twisted metal.
He focused on his surroundings as she kicked open the door at the center of the massive entrance and yanked him over the threshold. The door rebounded off the wall and whipped back to strike his head. Bright stars burst before his eyes, a blade of pain sinking into his temple. She didn’t acknowledge the blow, moving onward toward her destination as if nothing had happened.
The matching rotating doors on either side of the entrance were still intact and Blaze was surprised she didn’t try to drag him through one of those for shits and giggles. The huge network of paneled glass above the entry had been broken, hence the shards burrowing into his back and slicing through his skin. However, the framework remained whole, resembling a giant spider’s web from this angle on the floor.
Another violent spasm from the krait venom seized him and his back arced as he slid across the littered floor of the building’s once famous lobby. Pillars loomed over him along with the ceiling fresco he couldn’t see. All of the long, rectangular art deco lights had been blown out, casting the mammoth room in darkness despite the brilliant sun outside. Nabila towed him toward a bank of elevators, passing the broken turnstiles, and headed for a freight elevator at the far end of the hall.
The faces of the passenger elevators appeared viable, but it was likely a deception. After nearly five decades of decay and inactivity, Blaze sure as hell wouldn’t tempt fate and climb inside one of them.
But he didn’t really have a choice now, did he?
Nabila dragged him across a steel diamond grate and threw him against the back wall. His already shallow breath whooshed out of him as the tiniest of whimpers escaped his throat. He swore, biting back the pain that surged through him as another spasm took hold of his gut and spread through his limbs. At least he sat up now, propped against the cool metal.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Nabila chuckled as she unwound the chain from her dainty fist. Her burqa made her look like an old fashioned executioner, the kind who chopped off heads with an axe and hung people in gallows. She yanked down the steel mesh door and it clattered against the broken tiles, the crash echoing into the lobby. “You’ll go numb again eventually.”
Her tactless reassurance only stoked the fire in his blood as he glared at her. She pulled off her veil, smiling like a pleased jaguar. “Cat got your tongue, firestarter?” She raised a brow as she hit the panel and the elevator began to ascend.
“Fuck you.” His angry words came out ragged, wheezy, much like they had when he was deprived of oxygen not so long ago. His ears popped as they rose through several dozen floors, the metal gears creaking and the cab trembling precariously.
“Creative,” she mocked as she removed her head wrap, releasing her long thick hair. “You’ve always been an eloquent one.”
Blaze would’ve found her beautiful if she wasn’t such a sadistic vampire bitch. He couldn’t even look at her without his stomach turning, without tasting bile. “You’re a waste of breath,” he panted. “At least the others faced me without tricks or poisons. But that’s always been your way, you and that fucking coward you call sire.”
The elevator stopped, the abrupt change in motion wrenching Blaze’s gut. Sweat dripped into his eyes, burning them, and he could do nothing but blink the moisture away. She closed the distance between them and crouched before him, lips twitching.
“Soon he’ll be your sire as well.”
Blaze smiled humorlessly, but he wasn’t sure how much of it showed. “I’d rather die.”
She tilted her head, disturbingly childlike. “Then you haven’t learned anything, have you?”
“I’ll tell you what I’ve learned.” He sucked in another ragged breath. “I’ve learned your master can lock me up for another seven months, torture me for another fucking eternity, and I’ll never bow to him or his fucking whore.”
Fury ignited her eyes, filling him with satisfaction. Nabila was all bitter cruelty and cold calculation, so to elicit such a response from her meant he’d pushed a hot button. It would only backfire on him, but he didn’t give a fuck.
She grabbed his face, her nails clawing at him as she hissed like a cobra. “I cannot wait to tear your flesh open and gorge on your blood. Then we’ll see who’s the whore—”
“Nabila,” a deep bass reprimanded, the distinct African accent unmistakable, thickening the air to oil. Nabila whipped her head around to meet her master’s gaze. “Enough.”
As if on cue, another full body spasm attacked Blaze, momentarily scrambling his brains. When his contracted muscles relaxed and his nerve endings stopped firing enough to allow awareness, he stared into the dead eyes of his mortal enemy, his darkest nightmare come alive.
“Blaze.” Chimola’s smile was full of malice, his thick lips peeled back to reveal knife blade fangs. “We meet again.”
And Blaze did the only thing his raging mind told him to, the only thing he was capable of doing.
He spat in Cyrus’s face.
The vampire’s big hand fisted in Blaze’s T-shirt, lifting his two-hundred fifty pound weight up off the floor like a rag doll, and slammed him violently into the grated wall. The blow left Blaze gasping, precious air knocked out of him once again as Cyrus wiped the spittle off his face and flicked it away in disgust.
He didn’t growl, didn’t hiss like Nabila, but fury lit the coals of his eyes like brimstone.
“So much strength.” Those burning eyes raked over Blaze’s body, making him feel violated. Blood dripped down his chin onto Chimola’s hand, from the furrows Nabila had left in his face. Cyrus lifted his free hand and wiped at the blood before bringing it to his lips. Blaze’s stomach roiled at the fleeting expression of bliss on the bastard’s face. “So much power. And the tattoos, that’s a nice touch, as if you could hide my marks from the world. You’ve recovered well, hybrid. I’m impressed.”
Then, without warning, Blaze was airborne before he collided with the floor and tumbled across a rotted carpet. The room was awash in sunlight, warmth coming from every direction. He nearly kissed a pair of leather boots, his body curling of its own accord as another wave of brutal spasms crashed over him, drowning out the light.
This time, when he came to, he found himself hogtied to a metal chair with tungsten chains. His head lolled to the side uncontrollably as he took in his surroundings with half-lidded eyes. He was in an office of some sort, the furniture overturned and destroyed, piled in a corner at his periphery. The wall in front of him was made up entirely of broken wind
ows, revealing a breathtaking view of ravaged Manhattan.
Two stainless steel gargoyles of eagle’s heads stretched out on either side beyond the balcony, still glimmering in the warm afternoon sun even after all of this time. The sky was clear and the wind was calm, whispering ghosts across his face. A snapshot of Valerie smiling tenderly as she cupped his cheek flashed before his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came.
His heart ached as the rest of him grew anesthetized, the tide of spasms now receding and leaving cold numbness in its wake. The tremors soon followed suit. His body sagged in the chair, welcoming the relief.
“I must admit I’ve missed the sun.” Chimola’s voice reverberated against Blaze’s eardrums, barely eliciting a response. “It reminds me of the Congo, of home.”
Blaze’s eyes slid languidly toward the left as Cyrus crossed into his periphery and stood before the skyscape. The vampire snapped the safety lid on an empty syringe with his thumb before he slipped it into his pocket. “It’s incredible to be able to see it again, to feel it again. You’ve given me quite a gift, hybrid. Many gifts.”
I’ve given you nothing.
Pins and needles spread over Blaze’s body, starting at his throat. He went rigid and squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth against the stabbing sensations. He felt them everywhere—in his belly, in his toes, in his gums, in his goddamn eyeballs—and he fought through them, his nervous system’s restoration becoming its own form of torture.
Cyrus kept on talking. “This city is beautiful, isn’t it? I can see why you’re so fond of it. It’s nothing like Miami, but I think it’ll grow on you.”
Through the fury of paresthesias, Blaze hardly registered the implication. Soon the piercing waves passed, leaving him gasping, limp, and utterly exhausted. When Chimola’s words finally seeped through the clogged corners of his mind, Blaze’s blood slowed in his veins.
“Miami?” The word came out less ragged this time, his lungs and vocal cords regaining some semblance of control. Anti-venom. Cyrus must’ve given him anti-venom.
“Yes, Miami.” Cyrus turned toward Blaze with a dark smile, his huge form backlit by the sun, a vision that should never exist. He still looked the same. Big, blunt nose, sharply hard jaw, strong African features along with a massive body that stood at nearly seven feet and weighed well over three hundred muscled pounds. “It’s my home now. Our home. I can’t risk keeping you here and chancing another escape with your brothers. Nor do I trust Konstantinov to keep his word.”
Konstantinov. So Alek knew. Shit.
Panic scraped at Blaze’s raw nerves, jumpstarting the engine of his mind. Miami. Christ, Miami had been wiped off the map years ago. The entire state of Florida was practically gone, one of the first victims of the Insurgency. But it made sense that Cyrus would hide there, denying Blaze his vengeance, testing out his brand new traits with a large stash of blood to hold him over.
Motherfucker.
“You know, I was afraid you would no longer have anything left to live for, that you’d make yourself a martyr once we met again. But this detective of yours.” Cyrus clicked his tongue. “What a surprise. Valerie, is that her name?”
At the sound of her name on his lips, rage exploded through Blaze, amplified by the lack of feeling in the rest of his body. If Cyrus so much as touched her, Blaze swore he would cut off the leech’s hands. “If you even—” Blaze stopped himself but the fiery burst of emotion escaped him, unchecked. He immediately regretted it as Cyrus smiled that predatory smile, entirely pleased with himself.
“Ooo,” Cyrus lilted. “Touchy. Especially since she rejected you after she received my little gift.”
Blaze’s blood boiled, his fangs snapping into place and pushing against his lips. “What did you do to her?”
Cyrus approached him like a thundercloud, closing the distance between them. “I showed her what you couldn’t. I showed her what you’d become, what you are, and where you belong.”
Blaze bared his fangs. “You know nothing about me. And I belong to no one.”
Except her.
Cyrus let out a rumbling laugh, exposing his own bright white incisors. “There it is. There’s the monster I’ve been looking for, still creeping so close to the surface. Look at you, Blaze.” The vampire circled him, making the hair stand on the back of his neck. “You’re a demon, a vampyr, just like me. I bet that monster inside you is stronger now, but we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?” Cyrus leaned into Blaze’s ear, bracing his big hands on the back of the metal chair as it groaned in response to the added weight. “But you’re still so full of emotion, so full of weakness. You love your little detective, don’t you?”
Blaze wanted to yank himself away from the sickening sensation of the leech’s breath in his ear, but he couldn’t. He wanted to burn this entire place down, to take the whole goddamn borough with it and make sure Cyrus never saw or felt the fucking sun again. “No.” The lie made his chest ache even though it was futile. “I don’t.”
“Then you wouldn’t mind if I take her, keep her for myself?”
Fury surged through Blaze once again, and he tried to contain it, tried to hold it in, but he couldn’t stop the flood. His weary body burst into action, struggling violently against the binds, fighting to break free and wanting nothing more than to tear that bastard’s heart out.
“You’ll never find her!” he roared, knowing his brothers would protect her once they realized he was gone. They had to have known by now. They had to.
Chimola’s laughter only fed Blaze’s hate as the vampire came into view again, squatting down in front of him and remaining just out of reach. Cyrus’s eyes glittered with amusement, enjoying every second of Blaze’s outburst. “What if I already have her in my possession? What if she’s behind you, bound and gagged, watching us right now?”
Fear slashed through Blaze’s heart, abruptly chilling his burning blood. The image of her doing just that invaded his brain, but he shoved it away, unwilling to believe it. If she were here, he would’ve felt her. “Liar, you’re a fucking liar.”
Cyrus smiled wickedly. “If that’s what you want to believe. Maybe I’ll let you watch while I rape her, right here in the sun. Maybe I’ll starve you before I give her back and watch you tear her apart yourself. Maybe you’ll watch her burn.” He snapped his long fingers as a flame flickered between them briefly. It was dull, weak, a mere glimmer of what Blaze held. A growing anger churned in the vampire’s eyes, swirling bright red in Blaze’s vision. “So you can breathe in her death as I had with my own.”
Blaze’s lips twitched. If that bastard thought he could threaten him with his own element, he was dead fucking wrong. “Ling was the only one who burned, and that was under the sun. The rest bled.”
Cyrus sprang up and seized Blaze’s chin, nearly crushing his jaw under the iron grip. “Then you will bleed like they had,” he growled, the thunderous sound vibrating the walls and filling the sunlit air with dust. “And I’ll make sure you feel every moment of it.”
Then, without warning, Cyrus wrenched Blaze’s head to the side and buried his fangs in his throat.
TWENTY
Valerie was back at the mansion in no time.
Dax interrogated the hell out of her, and in her panicked state, she spilled everything to him—the video, how she got it, what was on it, when Blaze showed up, the confrontation, the screaming, the door slamming, her collapsing onto the floor. He listened quietly, azure eyes locked on the dark road, passing no judgment whatsoever. When she was through, she was near tears again, and they’d pulled onto the rotary.
He asked her just one question. “Were you really going to kill him?”
She glanced at his profile, his exotic face set in stone. “No,” she murmured. “Something inside me told me I had to, but I couldn’t.”
He nodded as he parked the
car and looked at her. “Neither could I.”
His eyes and words held so much weight it left her staring, speechless, as he silently exited the Jeep. She wanted to ask what he meant but didn’t press, knowing this wasn’t the time or place. She just followed him inside, her mind in a drone.
All the hybrids were in the conference room, geared up and ready to go. Conversation bounced back and forth as Kaj and Jon surrounded a huge Mac computer with Kasen in the hotseat. The console seemed to come from beneath the rosewood table, as if elevated on a platform. They were attempting to track the Jeep Blaze had left in, but it looked like the GPS had been destroyed.
“The last signal I got was in the Upper East Side, so he must be back down in Manhattan,” Kasen called out to Rome and Shaul, who spoke quietly to one another on the other side of the room.
“Bastards probably took him back to Grand Central,” Kaj muttered, but Jon shook his head.
“Doubt it. The place is obliterated. There’s no way they could get him back down there, at least not through the terminal.”
“Any luck?” Dax asked, announcing their presence as all the men’s eyes settled on Valerie. Her stomach somersaulted beneath the intensity of their gazes.
Talk about nerve wracking.
“No,” Kasen answered as he frowned, lines of stress apparent on his face. “Not anything concrete.”
“Any contact?” Dax made his way over to the console as Kasen shook his head.
“Nothing.”
Meanwhile, Rome walked straight toward Valerie in long, determined strides, setting alarms off in her head. She tensed, bracing herself, waiting for him to invade her mind any second now—
