Blood Bound

by V. J. Devereaux

  That meant whatever had happened had happened fast or someone would have noticed something, like a pool of blood or a body, and called the police. So they’d been taken somewhere else. All she could hope was that they weren’t already dead.

  Somehow she sensed that she would know if they were.

  Which meant Holbrooke was holding them for some other reason. Her blood chilled at the thought.

  His golden eyes darkening, Sasha said, his jaw tight as he glanced around the room at the other detectives there, “And we don’t have probable cause for raising the alarm.”

  “Not yet,” Barnes said.

  He looked at both of them.

  “Let’s go find some.”

  Relief flooded her. She hadn’t even had to ask.

  Their motorcycles were impractical for what they needed so they took Barnes’s department issued vehicle.

  Both Julian and Nico were ancient vampires, old and experienced, for all of Nico’s apparent youth, she reminded herself. Both were smart and extraordinarily strong.

  Something was wrong, though, she could feel it.

  Julian’s office building was dark but she had a pass card into the garage.

  His Mercedes was still in its usual parking space. Nor was there any sign of disturbance. She was growing colder.

  The building where Nico had said he was working that day was also dark.

  Barnes’s badge got them into the garage of the building since he was driving.

  Nico’s motorcycle, a twin of hers, was still there. The garage attendant didn’t recognize his description as one of those he’d seen leaving.

  Both would have thought themselves safe, living in a civilized age where laws protected people against this sort of mayhem. But nothing protected anyone completely. Times had changed.

  There was still no proof that anything had happened to either of them. No blood, no signs of violence.

  They stopped at a few of Julian and Nico’s favorite haunts to see if they were there and had gotten caught up in conversation or something. It had to be done, the possibility eliminated. Sometimes the music was so loud you couldn’t hear your cell, as Rafi knew from experience. Usually they called her, though, and invited her to join them.

  Even without that, Rafi knew something was wrong.

  “It’s not enough,” she said, softly, in frustration.

  It wasn’t, not by departmental standards.

  Both men were adults. They’d have to have been gone for more than a day before an alert would be or could be ordered. That was too much time under the circumstances.

  “If Holbrooke has them, where would he take them?” Rafi asked as they drove up the long drive to Julian’s house.

  Although they were on duty, this wasn’t something they could handle from division headquarters. Even so, none of them doubted that a crime was in progress.

  Barnes shook his head. “There’s too many possibilities.”

  “A better question might be, where is he staying?” Sasha speculated. “With one of his constituents?”

  Barnes shook his head. “No, not for this. He couldn’t trust them. It’s one thing to ask someone to hide him but it’s too great a risk that they might develop a stronger conscience if they discover he’s planning outright murder. He’ll want privacy, and no witnesses.”

  “Then he’ll need a place to stay,” Rafi said, “and not some name-brand hotel but someplace where no one will ask questions. A no-tell motel. Which narrows our search down considerably. All we need is a phone book.”

  It was low tech but a lot easier to use than the internet, which sorted the way it thought you wanted and by quality. The little listings in the yellow pages were what they needed.

  Sasha sat up a little at the thought there was something they could do.

  With an effort, Rafi reminded herself again that Julian and Nico were smart. They’d survived for more than a thousand years against people like these.

  “Would Holbrooke risk using his own name?” she asked as they walked into the house.

  Taking a breath, Barnes considered it. “Possibly. He’s known back east but not here. He might feel safer and he wouldn’t want it to look as if he were hiding, as if there was something he was ashamed about. Besides, no one here knows his name.”

  It was a risk calling places like these motels just with a description. The chance existed that if Holbrooke was alerted he might just kill Julian and Nico outright rather than risk arrest and imprisonment.

  They couldn’t use their police connections, not without proof the two men had met with foul play but that still left them with good old-fashioned police work. Rafi pulled out the phone book, opened it to hotels and motels and the three of them got to work. They called one by one until they finally hit the jackpot. Barnes asked to be connected to Holbrooke’s room but no one answered.

  He shook his head. “So, how do you want to handle this?”

  “There are other ways,” she said, “but most will be even more dangerous for Julian and Nico. We have to get Holbrooke to take us to them. He probably doesn’t know I’m a cop.”

  Both men gave her their full attention. It was clear they had a pretty good idea what she had in mind.

  Sasha spoke softly. “Bait.”

  He didn’t like it but he also knew their options were limited. As was their time. If Holbrooke had them, he wouldn’t wait very long.

  “You can’t go in there unarmed,” Sasha said, firmly.

  Rafi smiled at him crookedly. “I won’t, thanks to my time in Vice and Narcotics.

  She’d worked her way up through the ranks and divisions, always with her detective’s shield in mind. Most of her career had been spent undercover.

  In her mind’s eye, she could see their faces, Julian, Nico. Her heart wrenched and she fought the urge to weep. It wouldn’t help.

  Debating a number of possibilities, Rafi chose Julian’s dark green Jag, the least conspicuous of his cars. Barnes’s department issued vehicle would be spotted for what almost instantly but the Jag wouldn’t be so unexpected. Most of the residents would assume it belonged to a john.

  Barnes rode shotgun while Sasha slid into the back. Rafi drove to the High Point Motel.

  The place certainly didn’t live up to its name being an old, shabby frame building with nicotine-stained curtains covering grimy windows. Bedbugs would be the least of your problems in a place like that.

  “A B. Holbrooke matching our Holbrooke’s description is registered in room 23.”

  She found a place in the parking lot to tuck the car away.

  Room 23 was dark.

  Barnes tapped her shoulder, then he and Sasha slipped quickly out of the doors of the car.

  What was happening to Julian and Nico? Terror shot through her. Her breath came in gasps. Ruthlessly, she locked down control. It would do them no good if she lost it. If they were in trouble, they were depending on her.

  There was a soft tap at her window.

  Sasha.

  “The room is empty. We’ll have to wait.”

  *****

  Dazed, confused, his sense of smell assaulted by the reek, Julian awakened and looked around in the darkness. The small room he occupied was clearly in a basement or cellar somewhere, there was an industrial feel and smell to it. Oily puddles dotted the floor and he saw movement from the corners of his vision. Rats probably. Over the centuries, he’d fed on them a time or two. It all had an air of familiarity about it.

  The walls were made of reinforced cement with iron rings driven securely into them. Shackles bound his wrists. The chains connecting them to the wall were very thick. Clearly someone had been prepared for him.

  A thousand old memories tormented him. How many times had he found himself like this over the centuries? He’d thought those days were over.

  Fear whispered through him.

  And Nico? If they knew about him, did they know about Nico, also? Was he all right? What about Rafi? Would whoever had done this have gone after her
as well? It wouldn’t have been the first time over the ages that someone dear to him had lost their life because of what he was.

  Even with all the discussions about vampire hunters he hadn’t expected anything, hadn’t seen this or them coming. It had been a long time since someone had the temerity to target him. This was a civilized society, far more than many. Even so, he and Nico had kept a low profile.

  Mentally, he berated himself. He should have seen it, should have expected it. He’d counted too much on his heightened senses, his greater speed and strength.

  What he hadn’t counted on was the weapon they used.

  Tasers, it appeared, worked just as well on vampires as they did on ordinary men. As did whatever narcotic they’d shot into him while he’d been rendered helpless. It had taken him down into oblivion in moments.

  He thought of all those other victims.

  This was too coincidental to be mere chance. No, this had been planned.

  Fear burned through him.

  If they hadn’t taken her as well, he knew Rafi would be looking for him, the bond between them alerting her even if she didn’t know what it was. With or without it, he knew her well enough to know she would come.

  Shaking his head in an effort to clear it, he twisted his wrists in the shackles to test them. It was hardly the first time he’d been imprisoned. However completely they might have prepared he wouldn’t stop fighting until he was dead.

  The door, clearly a new installation - iron, thick and designed to hold someone like him - opened and a man stepped inside.

  Tall, the man was heavy and well-fed, his belly thick and soft. His shoulders were broad and his chest deep, his hairline receding back from his forehead in deep widow’s peaks. Time had engraved grooves around his thin mouth and etched dark circles beneath his glittering eyes. A large cross, carved roughly of wood, dangled from a chain around his neck.

  Julian fought the chains in rage and despair. If there was time, he could break them but would there be time?

  To his fury and horror, several armed men entered the room. Two of them dragged a barely conscious Nico between them, his cousin clearly battered and bruised. It was obvious he’d tried to fight them.

  They chained him to the wall as well.

  Julian’s heart burned for him, anger ran like fire through his blood.

  “Bastards,” he spat. “Nico?”

  Raising his head, Nico looked at him and nodded weakly to let him know he was all right. For the moment. It was a small measure of relief.

  One that didn’t last long.

  “Do it,” Holbrooke said, with a sharp nod.

  They went to Nico first because he was closest and still the most dazed.

  Julian fought the chains as they drew their knives and opened Nico’s veins.

  “No,” he shouted in helpless fury. “Leave him alone. We’ve done nothing to you. Nothing.”

  Despite his bruising, his evident weakness, Nico fought furiously as the blades cut. Blood spilled to the floor, soaked into it, the smell ripe in the confined space.

  “Remember,” Holbrooke shouted with all the fervor of the Pentecostal preacher he was, “They are abominations, unnatural. They’re demons, they don’t deserve to live. The Bible says so. God is on our side. We must destroy them if we are to return to His good graces. Steel yourselves against their wiles. They’re already dead. Remember that.”

  “No, we’re not,” Julian shouted. “No, goddamnit, we’re as alive as you are. You bastards, leave him alone.”

  They ignored him.

  Then it was his turn.

  Julian fought, too, but in the end they opened his veins as well.

  As his blood drained away so did most of his strength. He cursed slowly and steadily as weakness washed through him while Holbrooke watched, making sure that every drop was gone.

  Julian knew his body would heal but it would take energy. Energy he couldn’t replace without blood. Hunger was certain.

  A hopeless expression in his eyes, Nico’s jaw tightened in determination as he fought the chains weakly. The hunger would already be growing in him. As it would for Julian very soon.

  How many times had they faced this, either together or apart?

  By morning they would be ravenous. A few hours after that… Despair and fear settled around Julian’s heart. It had been a long time since he’d been that hungry. It had been bad enough before Rafi, but now?

  Cursing wasn’t enough. As the night grew later he grew rapidly weaker…and hungrier. Very hungry.

  He wasn’t an animal, though, he was a man, a vampire, his hunger did not and would not rule him.

  Julian kept reminding himself of that as the night wore on and both hunger and cold seemed to settle into his bones.

  Chapter Eleven

  Watching from the Jag, Rafi saw a car drive into the motel parking lot. At this late hour there weren’t many visitors. She recognized the driver as Holbrooke from Barnes’s picture as he got out of the car and the streetlights hit him. He wasn’t alone, he’d brought a few bully boys with him. By the plain wooden crosses they wore, they were more members of Holbrooke’s church. Something about them said ex-military. Facing Julian and Nico, Holbrooke would have needed all the trained help he could get. Her plan was a gamble but she thought it would work. She hoped and prayed that it would, that she wasn’t condemning Julian and Nico to a terrible death.

  Though a lot of vampire lore was myth, a stake through the heart would be fatal for anyone, even a normal human. Just the thought of it made her shudder.

  Holbrooke and his people went into one of the rooms.

  She gave a nod to Sasha and Barnes. Both shifted into wolf form and disappeared into the shadows around the motel. They could stay hidden much better that way, and their sight and hearing would be improved as well.

  The sudden mental image of Holbrooke driving a thick wooden stake into Julian and Nico’s hearts and then cutting their heads off was maddening, terrifying. Had he already done it? It had been too dark to see if there had been blood on his hands. Was that why he was here?

  If they had, they’d regret it. She’d dedicate herself to hunting Holbrooke and his people down like the madmen they were.

  She banished the image, scrubbing her face with her own hands to clear it.

  With an effort, she pulled herself together, got out of the car, leaving the keys behind for Barnes and Sasha as she strode across the parking lot to the hotel desk.

  This was the first part of the gamble. She’d spent the previous day in their gated home, so unlike Julian and Nico Holbrooke hadn’t been able to get to her if he’d wanted her, too. If he didn’t the fact that she’d tracked him down to the motel would alarm him. He wouldn’t want any attention. With luck, if he didn’t kill her outright – which Sasha and Barnes wouldn’t allow - he’d take her to where Julian and Nico were, while Sasha and Barnes followed either in wolf form or in the Jag.

  Rafi needed Holbrooke to take her to them but she wanted him to think it was his idea. A direct confrontation would make her seem more of a threat. Then she’d get nowhere. She’d have to be close, but not too close.

  The door to the hotel lobby had a bell that hung over it. It jingled as she walked in. The clerk hurried out at the sound, his smile not reaching his eyes. An older man, his hair graying, he was worn down by life, his expression perpetually dissatisfied.

  “Can I help you?” he said.

  “Yes,” she said, “I’d like to talk to Mr. Holbrooke. I heard he’s staying here?”

  “There’s no Holbrooke here,” he said. “You’ve come to the wrong place.”

  It didn’t surprise her. The clerk who spoken to Barnes must have mentioned the call to Holbrooke. She almost hoped he had. She wanted Holbrooke worried but not panicked.

  Shrugging a little, she said, “I just want to talk to him.”

  The man’s eyes lit up at the fifty dollar bill she slid across the desk.

  “You a cop?”

  Gest
uring at her clothes – jeans, a heavy hoodie from a local college and running shoes – she looked at him incredulously.

  “Do I look like a cop?”

  With those clothes and her height, she hardly looked intimidating.

  “There might be a Holbrooke staying here,” he said, taking the fifty. “Let me go check the book.”

  With luck, he was actually going to warn Holbrooke

  Her breath came short as a dozen ghastly images raced through her head. Julian or Nico dead, with a stake driven into their chests, blood gushing like a bad B movie. It still horrified her.

  The man came back, shaking his head sadly. “Sorry, can’t help you.”

  It was the answer she’d expected. All she could do was hope he’d called Holbrooke.

  Sighing dejectedly, she said, “Are you sure?”

  Angrily, defensively, he said, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  With a shrug, she nodded, turned and walked out the door toward the Jag.

  She never saw it coming, any more than Julian or Nico had, she realized as the pain hit.

  The taser was an unpleasant shock, quite literally. She barely registered the sound before the jolt hit her. Every muscle in her body locked up, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Tumbling to the pavement, she shuddered helplessly. All she was grateful for was that when she fell there was no clatter from the gun and badge strapped between her breasts.

  Holbrooke appeared in front of her as they tied her hands behind her and snatched a fistful of her hair to force her to look up at him. He wrenched her head to the side as his minions tugged at her wrists.

  “Harlot,” he spat at her and then slapped her. “Both of them?”

  Startled, she stared at him. How did he know?

  Then it came to her and she closed her eyes on an intake of breath.

  Although most wouldn’t know them for what they were, the scars on her wrists and throat were clear evidence of vampiric feeding to those who did.

  His eyes narrowed speculatively as he considered her.

  Slowly he nodded and smiled.

  Rafi went cold at the sight of that thin smile.

  “It’s a sign, brothers. Clearly, God has delivered us our proof. No innocents need die. If she wants to see her companions so much let us return her to them.”