Enslaved By the Others (An H&W Investigations Novel)

by Jess Haines

  It probably wasn’t going to help much, considering what I was wearing, but I took a little time to finger-brush my hair and pluck the worst of the burrs and dead leaves off of myself. I’m sure I still looked like a slice of hell warmed over. I know I felt like it, anyway.

  Pulling out a twenty, then stuffing the wallet in an inside pocket, I hobbled my way across the pavement and just inside the doorway, squinting against the bright lights as I got my bearings. The teenaged clerk behind the counter stared at me, his gum falling out of his mouth to land with a wet “plop” on the magazine he’d been reading.

  “Um, hi,” I said, then cleared my throat to sound less like an asthmatic smoker. “Got a pay phone?”

  He shook his head, eyes never leaving my face, still giving me a mute stare. I scrubbed a hand over my cheek self-consciously, breaking eye contact to see if there was anything in the store I could use. Ooh, potato chips. That sounded awesome right about now.

  Limping across the linoleum, I got myself a bottle of some red sports drink, a bottle of water, some chips, and a handful of protein bars. The coffee was tempting, but I didn’t think it would be a good idea with how wind-burned my chapped lips felt. I dropped the stuff on the counter, plucked a container of lip balm out of a display bin next to the register, and put the twenty down.

  “Look,” I said, as the guy rotely began ringing up my items, finally remembering his manners as he focused on the pile I set before him. “I’m lost and I don’t have a car or a cell phone. Do you have a phone I can borrow to make a couple calls? Please? I’ll pay you.”

  He gave a nervous laugh. “Sure. Jeez, lady. Are you okay? Do you want me to call an ambulance or something? You don’t look so good.”

  I shook my head, probably harder than necessary. “No. Thank you, but no. Just a phone. Maybe a number to call a cab?”

  He pulled an ancient phone book out from under the counter and a very modern cell phone from his pocket. I took them and the sports drink with me and moved a few feet away to get a semblance of privacy. The kid watched me like I was his favorite reality TV show. Probably looked more interesting than whatever was in that magazine he was reading.

  I dialed Royce first, sipping at the drink. I almost choked on it when he picked up. He was better at answering his phone to unknown numbers than I was, that was for sure.

  “If this is a new number, Euphron, I’m having it blocked. You put the agreement in writing and send it via Athena, or no deal.”

  “I’m ... uh ... it’s not Max.”

  Royce didn’t respond right away. When he did, his voice was hushed, strained, like he didn’t quite believe it was me. “Shiarra?”

  “Surprise,” I said, sounding lame even to my own ears.

  “I—gods above and below, I thought—”

  I wanted to tell him how much I missed him. How much I needed him, and how scared I was—but I didn’t have time for it. If the words passed my lips, I was going to start crying and never stop. I didn’t want to end up falling into hysterics and scaring the poor kid who was watching me so avidly. There would be time for that later, once I was alone.

  “I’m on a borrowed phone,” I said, voice thick around the lump in my throat. “I just—Royce, I need—I just got away from Max. Sara’s still there. Still with him. She needs help. Please.”

  “Gods be damned. Why didn’t Francisco say—your pain—the fear and the ... I thought I’d lost you. What in the name of the gods happ—no. No, there will be time for that later,” he said, sounding more rushed and flustered than I’d ever heard him before. I was a little too shell-shocked to be startled that he knew I was hurt, but a part of me was glad that our connection was strong enough that he understood just how bad off I was without me having to explain. He took a shuddering breath, audible even over the cell phone connection. “Where are you? Give me the address.”

  I turned to the clerk, who scribbled it down on a piece of paper for me when I asked. We were in a suburb of Illinois I’d never heard of. Of course. Max’s home stomping grounds were in Chicago, so why was I even surprised? After cursing my luck, I then repeated the information back to Royce. The vampire didn’t ask twice, which was good, because I wasn’t sure I had enough strength or nerve left to focus on that chicken-scratch writing to repeat it again.

  “Stay right there, love. I’ll have someone pick you up, take you somewhere safe. Don’t call anyone else, and don’t go with anyone unless they tell you I sent them. I know you’re hurt, but stay away from the local public services, police and hospitals. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I said, wanting to say so much more, but not finding the words.

  Love. He’d called me love. I almost didn’t hear anything else he said after that. For one brief, blessed moment, I forgot my pain and fear. He really did care about me. I wasn’t just property. Not to him. Not to anyone, ever again.

  “Call again if you need me. Stay there. I’ll send someone right now. Ask for Analie’s name to confirm they’re one of mine. We’ll speak again once you’re safe and sound.”

  I nodded. Realized he couldn’t see my reaction to the command, and rolled my eyes heavenward at my own airheadedness. “Okay.”

  He clicked off without another word. I wasn’t sure I had anything else to say either.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The coffee was scalding my tongue, but I barely felt it. The taste didn’t really register either. Cradling the cup in my hands, trying not to slosh it all over myself from the head-to-toe shivers wracking me, I watched the parking lot and tried not to think too hard about what might happen to me now.

  The kid, Dustin, had a raging case of white knight syndrome. When I steadfastly refused to let him call the cops or an ambulance, he insisted on loaning me his coat and gloves. Sat me down in a plastic chair that he dug out of the supply room in the back and set next to the register where I could keep an eye on the parking lot. Paid for a microwave soup and the coffee, too, and made me drink it instead of the sports drink. Said it was more important that I warm up, and deal with the dehydration after my core temp was raised. He was very insistent that I needed to submerge as much of my body as possible in a hot bath as soon as I got wherever I was going.

  There was no small measure of fear in me that Max would send men out looking for me beyond the bounds of his own property line. That they would find me here, kill this sweet kid who smelled too strongly of Noxzema and breath mints, just for presuming to help me. Putting his life in danger was no way to repay his kindness, but I had to wait and hope that Royce’s contact would get here first.

  The soup was long finished and the coffee tepid by the time a black pickup truck with flames emblazoned on the side pulled into the lot. The oversize tires made me think of the monster truck rallies my dad used to watch on TV, and it was blaring some kind of pop music so loud I could hear it inside the store.

  A tall, slender Asian woman stepped out, hopping from the step on the driver’s side down to the blacktop. She was practically engulfed by a glaringly pink down jacket lined with faux fur at the cuffs and collar. She was working it with skinny jeans and matching pink Uggs with fur trim. It looked like the kind of outfit you’d see a model wear as she strutted down the runway, not somewhere in the back woods of Middle of Nowhere, Illinois. It was the kind of outfit Ken, Royce’s fashion director for his nightclubs, might have instructed some of the eye candy at The Underground to wear.

  I was a little too busy gaping to remember to hide myself before she came in. Dustin was pretty amazed, too, his eyes bugging as he took in the girl’s striking figure. If she was one of Max’s people, I was screwed—but I found it a little hard to believe he’d have someone who voluntarily dressed like that on his payroll.

  Her mouth twisted into an O of surprise when she spotted me, cotton candy pink lacquered nails soon lifting to cover her expression. Cripes, even her eyeliner was sparkly pink. “Oh, Shiarra, I’m so sorry. I got here as fast as I could. Alec didn’t say you were . . .”


  Her voice trailed off, and I wondered what she thought had happened to me. I probably still had twigs in my hair and blood under what stubs remained of my fingernails.

  Though I wanted to get out of this place more than anything, first I had to make sure she wasn’t sent by Max to lure me out. “What’s the name of the little girl staying with Royce right now?”

  She didn’t hesitate, and didn’t seem offended by my paranoia. “Analie. We both know she’s not just a little girl. I promise, Alec sent me, not who you’re thinking.”

  And I could have wept, knowing I was safe.

  “Come on, we need to get moving.”

  I put the coffee down. Braced myself to get out of the chair. A riotous shock of pain flared from my hip, jolting down to my knee and up to the base of my skull, so harsh and sudden I nearly blacked out. Sitting down for so long had made something—either some kind of pus seeping from the brand or maybe the salve Max had used—adhere to the pants. Sitting up felt like I was tearing whatever nerves were left down there out by the roots with rusty pliers as the material peeled away from my skin.

  Dustin was by my side before the woman, practically flying around the counter to get to me first so he could put a hand on my shoulder to keep me in the chair. Though I flinched from his touch, he didn’t seem to notice. Instead of sympathy, he scolded me, which did a better job of taking my mind off the pain than her nervous fluttering.

  “Why didn’t you say you were hurt? I should have called that ambulance. Stop moving, I’ll call them right now—”

  “No,” I croaked, grabbing his arm to keep him from pulling his phone from his pocket. “Don’t. Please. Just trust me on this, Dustin. Don’t tell anyone I was here. Not a soul.”

  “You’re afraid you’ll be arrested?”

  I started at that. He didn’t fight my grip, but he did give me a hard look that might have made me shrink back if I had felt guilty about something, and if it wasn’t coming from a kid who was probably half my age.

  “I remember who you are now. I remember seeing stuff about you in the news.”

  The girl moved in, her expression darkening as she tapped his chest with a pink lacquered nail. “Look, kid, you don’t want to get involved—”

  He gave her a withering look as he cut her off. “It’s a little late for that.” His expression, when he turned back to me, was pained. “Look, I’m sorry you’re afraid to get help from anyone, but you’re hurt and a lot of people are looking for you.”

  “You’re telling me,” I said. “Dustin, thanks for everything. I’ll find a way to repay you, I promise. But I need you to stay quiet about this, pretend you never saw me. Just for right now.”

  His eyes narrowed, and he took a step back out of my reach so he could pull out his phone. “I can’t do that. I’m sorry. You’ll thank me for it later.”

  The lady, who still hadn’t told me her name, held out a hand to me. “Come on, he’s not going to listen. Let’s get out of here.”

  She was a lot stronger than she looked. Though I had a hard time moving my left leg, with her support, I got out of the chair and on my own two feet again. She scooped up my bag of goodies and acted as a crutch, letting me lean on her as I limped to the door. Dustin, though obviously frustrated, didn’t try to stop us. His voice followed us out as he spoke into his cell, describing me and my injuries to the person on the other end. Probably a 9-1-1 dispatcher.

  The moment she held the door open for me, a gust of cold wind carrying a few stray flakes of snow blasted me in the face, reminding me of my brush with hypothermia. Shivering, I hobbled outside first, clinging to the door for balance. My frantic, adrenaline-fueled strength had long since deserted me, but there was no time for delays. If an ambulance or cops were on their way to investigate, we had little time to get out of here, and less chance of going unnoticed in that beast of a car.

  A sense of foreboding crawled over my skin, colder than the hint of fresh snow on the wind.

  Once I was outside with enough room for her to squeeze past, the lady grabbed my arm, hauling me to her car at a faster clip than I was ready for. Dustin followed us out, still on his phone. Though the pain and dizziness made it hard to focus on anything other than putting one foot in front of the other, I scanned the tree line at the edge of the parking lot, then stiffened. If she hadn’t been dragging me along, I might very well have given up then and there.

  Max was watching us, hands pocketed, head lowered, only the embers of red glowing in the depths of his eyes giving him away. That, and the brutal wrenching in my psyche the moment our eyes met as he fought to tear my control away from me and force me to come to him.

  Away from the lights. Witnesses. The security cameras.

  Panting, I tore my gaze off him, sudden warmth oozing down my lips and chin. Blood gushing from my nose. “Hurry,” I begged, though I was the slow one here.

  Her fingers tightened on my arm, but other than that she gave no sign she heard me. Once we reached her pickup truck, she practically threw me inside, somehow shoving me up to reach the cab in next to no time.

  Hands shaking, I settled myself in the huge leather seat. She raced around the other side, hopping in. When I looked up, Max was standing on the edge of the pools of light cast by the headlights, his eyes reflecting a phosphorescent sheen like a cat’s. There was some kind of dark, sleek sedan parked under the trees on the side of the road, not visible from the front door of the store. No wonder I hadn’t known he was there. Probably laying in wait to ambush or follow me somewhere without any security cameras.

  “Fucker moves fast,” my new friend said, her tone conversational as she started up the diesel engine with a roar and shoved the monster into gear. Blessed heat blasted from the vents, briefly fogging the windows. “Buckle up. There are napkins in the dash and, I think, a bottle of water under the seat if you want to clean up.”

  I gasped as I was thrown back, the tires squealing on the pavement as she hurled us straight at the vampire. One hand on the dash to brace myself, I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable collision—but it never came. Squinting one eye open, I looked ahead, but there was nothing but empty road before us. Twisting around to look behind us, I saw the convenience store fading fast in the distance, though one ... two ... four pairs of headlights flicked on and began to follow us.

  Max was still visible, a darker shadow against the tree line. I pressed a hand to the glass, mouth going slack with horror as he held his arm out to the kid, who was moving away from the lights and cameras and safety of the store to the vampire’s side. Dustin was making straight for the deeper shadows, where a sure, ugly death waited for him, all because he had done me a small kindness.

  “Stop! Stop, we have to go back!”

  She shot me a look. “We’ve got a tail, and you just narrowly escaped a nasty fate. I am no match for that thing and, in your state, neither are you.”

  “You don’t understand! Dustin! He’s going to kill Dustin!”

  “And you, too, if we go back there. Save your strength. You’re going to need it.”

  I stayed plastered to the window, staring back. I couldn’t see anything else. The wood and shadows swallowed up man and beast, and soon even the store was lost to the night.

  My vision blurred, tears stinging my eyes as I stared back, willing for some sign that Max was after me and not that poor kid. Though the vampire had severed the mental contact between us, cutting me off from feeling what he wanted, I was sure he had done it on purpose. He must have wanted me to sit and stew and feel guilty for leading him right to someone whose only crime had been to offer me temporary shelter.

  It was working.

  “Kumiho.”

  I wasn’t sure I heard her right, but I was too busy staring back the way we had come and feeling like a Grade A, gold-plated turd to ask her to repeat herself.

  “I could be wrong, but I thought the polite thing to say when someone introduces herself is, ‘Nice to meet you, and by the way, thanks for saving my ass
.’”

  A faint sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob rattled in my throat. I turned away from the window, pressing my fingers to my eyes to keep the tears in. If I let them spill now, they’d never stop. “I’m sorry. Kuh ... Kim . . .”

  “Kumiho. Or Soo-Jin, if you prefer.” She patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t be giving you a hard time, but old habits die hard. Listen, I’m sure all you want to do is sleep for a week, but as soon as I put some distance between us and that tail we’re going to have to stop somewhere so I can dig the tracking chip out of you. Do you think you can handle it without any meds? I don’t have anything to give you for the pain and Alec said the only flight he could get for the magi won’t arrive until tomorrow night.”

  Numb, I dropped my hand and looked at her, blinking owlishly like that might help her words sink in better.

  Her gaze flicked over to me, then back to the road. Her lips thinned. “Sorry, Shiarra. I really am. But I can’t take you to a safe house until the chip is out, and I don’t have the skills of a healer.” She flashed me a smile full of sharp little teeth, prompting a shudder out of me. “I’ve always been much better at removing things than fixing them.”

  From the hands of one monster and into another. What the hell was she, and why was Royce trusting her with my life?

  After my time spent with Clyde Seabreeze in California, I couldn’t help but question Royce’s judgment and taste in allies.

  “Do whatever you have to,” I said.

  “I’ll do what I can. We’ll put a few miles behind us, then I’ll take care of it.”

  “Dig it out of me, you mean?”

  She nodded, gaze focused on the road stretched out before us. I swallowed back rising bile and looked ahead, too. I wondered how she knew about the chip. If she knew where it was on my body. Had she worked for Max at some point? Or was she an escapee, like me?