“We heard screaming.” Marcus shook.
Leaning with my back against the cold stone, I wrapped my arms around my legs.
“What did he do?” Marcus’ gaze fixed on my shirt. “Where’s Lilly?”
I looked down, ashamed.
“Whose blood is that?” he said.
I glanced at my soaked shirt, and then up at Ted. His shallow breaths signaled that he neared death.
“Can you help him?” Marcus asked.
“Let him die.”
“What?”
“At least one of us will be at peace.”
Marcus slumped against the wall.
“I want to find my son, find Sunaria, and go back to Spain,” I murmured.
“You’re our only hope of getting out of here.”
I sobbed.
“Whatever happened in there,” Marcus said, “it wasn’t your fault. He’s a monster.”
“I’m the monster.” My vision blurred with tears.
“No, Delacroix’s a sadist. You, me, we’re the victims here.”
“I’ll never forgive myself,” I whispered.
“God will forgive you. He forgives those—”
“Don’t spout religion at me,” I snapped.
“I’m just trying to help.”
“You’re not.”
“It’s always comforted me.”
“What? Like after you steal, you ask for forgiveness? How convenient.”
“Don’t you dare judge me. You don’t know me.”
Ted moaned.
“I just need quiet to think.” I rubbed my wrists.
“Taxes forced us into the city.” Marcus’ nostrils flared. “But they hire children. It’s cheaper. We work for virtually nothing, twelve hours a day, seven days a week, and all we get is scraps. So yes, when we heard this place was empty, we foraged. We trespassed.” He held up his wrist and the chain dangled. “But I think I’ve served my time. Don’t you?”
Ted coughed.
“Sunaria, that’s the name of your friend?” Marcus asked.
I nodded.
“Well, she needs you.”
“It’s my fault she’s in danger.”
“Delacroix’s the one to blame. Shit! Coming here was my idea,” he said.
I climbed to my feet.
“When we get out of here,” Marcus gestured his belief that we would, “I’m going to show you the London that I know. The street acts, poets, and playwrights, and the artists. Have you ever been to Covent Garden?”
I checked the door and found it locked. “No, I’ve been a little busy lately.”
“Venetian’s best painters have traveled to London and—”
“Sounds lovely!” It was impossible to suppress the sarcasm in my tone.
“I’m going to help you find your friend,” Marcus vowed. “And then all three of us can visit artist’s row.”
A bang rattled on the other side of the door.
We shared a glance and I stepped back, ready to fight.
Benjamin entered.
I looked at Marcus. “Do you know him?”
Marcus shook his head.
“I’m sorry about earlier.” Benjamin blinked several times. “He told me he’d kill me if I didn’t do it.”
“What did he do?” Marcus asked.
“Where’s Delacroix?” I asked.
“He’s gone out,” Benjamin said.
“And he lets you just roam around?” I considered his shifty eyes. “I don’t believe you.”
“Have you seen Lilly?” Marcus asked.
Benjamin gave me a sorry look. “Perhaps you should, um . . .”
I hated Benjamin for suggesting it. I turned to Marcus. “I’ll carry you.”
“There’s no time.” Benjamin’s expression hardened.
I hesitated. “I’m not leaving without him.”
“Delacroix has Sunaria.” Benjamin scratched his chin and looked away.
I stepped closer, wanting to believe him.
“I saw her.” He nodded and glanced my way.
“Where?”
“Upstairs, in one of the bedrooms,” Benjamin said. “I couldn’t leave without telling you.”
“How do you know it was her?” I asked.
“Kind of glimpsed her when I,” Benjamin glanced at Marcus and then back at me, “you know.”
“Is she guarded?” Marcus asked.
“No.” Benjamin pulled at my shirt sleeve. “We don’t have much time.”
I knelt at Marcus’ side. “I’ll get Sunaria and then I’ll come back for you,” I whispered. “Your sister’s at the River Thames Inn.”
Marcus nodded. “If you see Delacroix, kill the bastard.”
* * * *
I followed Benjamin up the steps and through the house, vigilant for any sign of a wayward vampire, and wary that this seemed too easy. We reached the landing and Benjamin pointed to an oak door, a few rooms down.
“In there?” I asked.
Benjamin nodded.
I didn’t sense her as I approached.
“She’s unconscious,” Benjamin said, as though reading my mind, but closing his.
“Now get out of here.” I turned the handle.
Benjamin strolled away, back down the corridor.
The room was pitch black. I sized up the shadows. In a corner chair sat Delacroix.
The panic hit me like a fist. “What is this?”
Delacroix’s grin caused a chill. Benjamin sauntered in and sat on the floor next to Delacroix.
“So how old are you really?” I asked Benjamin.
“Fifty.”
I scowled at him. “You snide little shit.”
Benjamin shrugged. “Got a lot of stuff from that little drink I had.”
My knuckles were white. “Sunaria was never here, was she?”
My filthy jacket lay on the end of the bed. Delacroix picked it up and offered it to me.
“I’m free to go?” I studied them, listening to my gut feeling that screamed danger. “Just like that?”
Delacroix wrapped my jacket around my shoulders and patted my back.
I tried not to cringe. “What about the others?”
He strolled over to the bed and lay upon it, placing his hands behind his head.
Benjamin folded his arms. “He wants you to go back and finish off your cell mates.”
“Yeah, right.” I headed for the door.
Delacroix’s gaze fell on my jacket pocket and I reached in and pulled out a silver locket, immediately recognizing it as the one I’d given to Jacob. My legs felt weak.
Delacroix snapped his fingers and Benjamin jumped up like a well-trained dog and dropped to his knees beside Delacroix, who patted his head and scrunched his hair. Benjamin’s eyelids flickered in pleasure.
“Do you want to see your son again?” Benjamin asked.
I glared at Delacroix. “Why doesn’t the count ask me this himself?”
“The offer is about to be rescinded,” the count mumbled.
* * * *
I entered the cell.
“Did you find her?” Marcus asked.
Kneeling beside Ted, I tilted his head and bit into his neck and he trembled beneath me. Lost in the drink, I followed the pathway of another life. Marcus screamed but his cries sounded distant, as flashes of images flooded my senses. Ted’s breathing quickened and then became shallow.
And then ceased, proceeded by the slowing, and then stilling of his heart.
Marcus hacked through his wrist with a splinter of stone. Blood spurted. His spectacles tumbled off as he collapsed and I reached for his bleeding wrist and suckled, glimpsing his wavering thoughts.
I forgive you, he conveyed. Now find your son.
Jolted out of my trance, I slowed. With my fangs buried into my wrist, I drew blood and shoved my arm against his lips. Marcus gasped for air, unable to resist the supernatural snare. His hips pumped the air as he rode out the bliss, the perfect pleasure betraying him.
Marcus lay dead in my arms.
I jumped when he shuddered, his mouth wide in a silent scream.
Reborn.
Realizing what I’d done, I pushed him off me. Marcus reached for the stone again and I kicked it out of his reach. His hair was now a striking titian and his green eyes were piercing. He pulled up his trouser leg to see his injury healed, the bruises gone.
He flew at me. “What is this?”
I shoved him back.
Marcus slammed against the wall. “There is no Sunaria, is there?”
“What?”
“You work for him?”
“No.”
“What have you done?” Marcus found his spectacles and with fumbling fingers, he picked them up and put them on.
I gasped. “He has my son.”
Marcus fiddled with his glasses.
“If Delacroix finds out that you’re alive,” I leaned forward on my knees, “my son is dead.”
* * * *
Delacroix met me halfway down the corridor.
I tried to control my rage. “It’s done.”
Benjamin loomed nearby. He glanced at the cell door.
“Now tell me where my son is.” I said.
Delacroix held a wide grin.
“You have no intention of freeing me, do you?” I glanced at the prison. “They died for nothing.” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Benjamin’s smug smile. “At least show me that loyalty is rewarded.” I tilted my head, casually.
Benjamin’s grin fell.
Delacroix’s eyes flickered, and with that small gesture of permission, I strolled over to Benjamin and peeled back his shirt collar. Benjamin reflected excitement intermingled with frightful anticipation. He whimpered when I bit and, despite his struggle, I had him.
Swallowing both Benjamin’s blood and his memories, I traced through his dark domain, the hidden images, suppressed by him, deep within. I stormed further on.
And then I found her.
It wasn’t only Marcus who’d fled through the central tunnel last night, but hours later Sunaria had, too. Delacroix had entombed her in a coffin and then sealed off the exit with a wall of mud.
I let go of Benjamin and bolted down the middle tunnel.
* * * *
They flung me into the chair.
I assumed the stake sticking out of my side was the cause of my inability to move. Pain radiated down my right leg. I’d almost reached the end of the tunnel, but they’d gotten to me first. The torture chamber reeked of blood and fear—my own.
I realized that was how they forced Sunaria to remain in the coffin, using a similar stake. I cringed at the thought, and wondered if she, like me, couldn’t even talk.
Delacroix loomed over me.
Feeling pure terror like I’d never known, taking small breaths, grateful for that at least, I thought of Sunaria being so close. My inability to rescue her was harrowing.
Delacroix’s fingers lingered at the end of the spike and he muttered something, but made no sense. My gaze followed his over to a cabinet and I gulped my dread.
Get me out of this fucking chair!
He lifted out a large jar. A decapitated head—a grotesque sight—bobbed inside, the likeness to Delacroix uncanny. The same mop of black hair, pasty, mottled skin, eyelids closed, and a drooping mouth in a sorrowful expression. Delacroix peered into the jar.
The idea that Sunaria suffered provoked an inner force within me and stopped me from passing out. Delacroix placed the jar down on top of the cabinet and reached in. His maniacal gaze reflected affection. With all my strength, I strained to move my right hand, but a weak twitch of my middle finger was all I could muster.
Delacroix carried the wet, grisly head back to me.
You’re insane.
He held it close and droplets of fluid plopped onto my trouser leg. Cold soaked through to my thigh. The walls closed in and my surroundings swirled.
“I was right,” he mumbled. “You’re the perfect build.”
Chapter 38
FEAR LIKE I’D NEVER known gripped me.
Despite being paralyzed, my entire body trembled, so much so, that the chair squeaked beneath me. Delacroix pressed the jagged blades of the saw against my throat. I begged him with my eyes.
Time slowed.
Blinding pain as the blade punctured and then sawed, and bright, red blood squirted and spilled and warmth burst down my neck and chest as he cut deeper. Blood gurgled in my throat and my stomach readied to spew. I hoped madness would possess me and take my mind with it.
Dear God, save me, but more importantly, save her.
Outside, sudden chaos, strange sounds carried, alluding to an unearthly brawl. Delacroix rested the saw on the side table and left.
Silence.
I struggled to breathe as the gaping gash restored. The scarlet flow slowed and receded and the agonizing spasms dissipated. In the corner lay my discarded jacket. Jacob’s locket was in one of those pockets.
Delacroix returned, dragging Marcus in with him. Marcus’ spectacles poked out of his tattered shirt pocket.
Get me out of here!
“This is a nightmare,” Marcus whispered.
“One that I control,” Delacroix seemed to say.
Marcus scrambled to his feet and did a double take at the jar. Delacroix picked up the saw.
“He isn’t tied down?” Marcus uttered, and then his wide stare shifted to the stake protruding from my side.
“Do you want to see your sister again?” Delacroix handed Marcus the saw.
A rasp escaped my lips.
Marcus swallowed a sob. “I want to know why.”
I was caught between survival and the need for it to be over. In a trance-like gaze, Marcus traced the serrated edges along my neck. Delacroix loomed close behind him, clutching the head. His hands appeared to shake with excitement.
“You manipulated me.” Marcus held my gaze.
I couldn’t let your sister die, I conveyed.
“Manipulated us.” Marcus swung round and sliced through Delacroix’s throat.
Delacroix staggered back, aghast. Blood gushed from the gash, and the head he held landed with a thud. Marcus spun round to face me and reached for the stake in my side, grasped the wooden handle, and yanked it out.
Delacroix vanished, leaving a bloody trail. Marcus kicked the head across the room.
I flew out of the chair and we headed into the corridor.
“I owe you my life.” I resisted the urge to touch him.
“You owe me more than that.”
I pointed to his spectacles. “You won’t need those anymore.”
“I noticed.”
“We’ll talk.”
“I’ve got to get to Rachel,” he said. “The River Thames Inn was it?”
I nodded.
“I’m coming back for him.” Marcus sped along the corridor.
“Don’t take him on alone,” I called after him. “Avoid the sun!” I cringed at my damp shirt, stained with residue from the glop, mixed in with my blood. I ran in the opposite direction, down the central tunnel.
Someone had carved their way through before me. I climbed into the muddy hole following in their tracks, and soon reached the other side. Benjamin sat beside a black coffin, its lid off. He rocked Sunaria in his arms, talking to her. She looked paralyzed.
“Let her go.” I spoke the words slowly.
Benjamin clutched her close to him. “He wants me to bring her to him.”
“You and I both know that’s not going to happen,” I said.
“I drank from him. I saw things.”
“Saw what?”
“His power.”
“He gave you up to me.” I stepped closer.
“I did whatever he asked because I’m scared of him.”
“It’s me you should be scared of.”
Sunaria slid out of his arms and I caught her. Grasping the end of the stake in her side, I eased it out. I’d never seen her so vulnerable. Her dress was
filthy, evidence that she hadn’t surrendered without a fight.
“I’ve got you now,” I whispered.
I grabbed Benjamin’s arm and, controlling his squirming, clutched the scruff of his jacket and held him over her. Even with Sunaria’s face nuzzled into his neck, I could see her color returning.
I peered down the tunnel and wondered where it led, considering that it may very well be like the others and lead nowhere, though the faint sound of water hinted that it may lead to freedom.
When Sunaria pulled back, having had enough, I shoved Benjamin out of the way. A fine, scarlet line trickled from her mouth onto her chin.
I wiped away the bloody smear. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” I kissed her, my tongue searching her mouth, tasting the tangy remnants of the blood.
Benjamin staggered off and dived through the clay hole.
Sunaria rubbed her dissipating wound. “That bastard stabbed me with silver.” She stared at the state of my clothes. “What happened to you?”
“Later.” I led her after Benjamin.
She pulled her hand out of mine. “Where are we going?”
I wrapped my arm around her waist and we trekked down the passageway. Sunaria covered her nose, the smell having reached us. I pushed open the door to the torture chamber and locked gazes with Benjamin. He held the head.
I glared at him, my patience fast fading. “Give it to me.”
Sunaria looked disgusted.
“He’ll let me live if I return it.” He stepped back. “What are you going to do with it?”
“End it.”
Benjamin wavered.
“We’ve all been through enough,” I said, calmly.
Benjamin looked at Sunaria and then back at me. “And you’ll let me go?”
“Sure. Take off your shirt.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.” I unbuttoned my shirt, removed it, and threw it.
Once Benjamin’s shirt was off, I grabbed it from him and put it on. It was a snug fit, but clean at least. I reached for my jacket and withdrew the locket from the right pocket. “Delacroix had this.” I showed it to her.
Sunaria looked puzzled. “He found it on me.”
“What?”
“I found it in a jewelry store. Delacroix stole it from me before I could find you.”
“He recognized me from the portrait.” I cringed. “And Benjamin, you filled in the holes.”
Benjamin sidled along the wall.
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