Now Alex was missing—abducted by a madman who Varik said was obsessed with her.
Emily traced the outline of Alex with her finger. Tears welled in her eyes. No matter how much she fought, how much she tried to protect them, it seemed the world was determined to rip her family apart, and she couldn’t let that happen.
She angrily brushed away her tears and traded the photograph for her cell phone. She dialed Gregor’s number and listened to the steady ringing on the other end, counting each tone as they passed unanswered. After ten rings, she sighed and hit the button to end the call. Where was he?
Lost in her own thoughts, she ignored the chime of the doorbell and Janet’s hurried footsteps. Stephen had left earlier for a meeting with investors regarding the rebuilding of Crimson Swan. Emily had insisted he keep the appointment despite what had happened with Alex. He needed the distraction. He would’ve gone insane with worry had he stayed home.
A startled shout and the sound of a man’s angry voice drew Emily from the kitchen. “Janet?” she called, hurrying into the living room. “What’s wro—”
The barrel of a revolver shoved in her face stole her words. Angry golden eyes bored into her from behind stringy and sweat-soaked brown bangs. The scent of blood, pepper, and sage was strong in the air. The hand holding the revolver wavered slightly as the stranger spoke, showing fangs. “Who the fuck are you?”
Her gaze flicked to the frightened Janet, held tightly against the unknown vampire’s side. “Emily,” she replied, surprised by her own calm. “I’m a friend of Janet’s.”
The stranger inhaled sharply. “You smell like a vampire, but I don’t see fangs.”
“I had them filed down and capped a long time ago.”
He grunted. “You’re one of Janet’s clients?” He didn’t wait for Emily to respond before tightening his hold. “I never knew you swung both ways, Janet. That would’ve made for more interesting suck and fucks. A little girl-on-girl action, huh?”
“You’re hurting me,” Janet whined.
“Let her go,” Emily said.
“You are not the boss here, bitch!” He cocked the revolver’s hammer and Janet sobbed. “I am!”
Despite the wild pounding of her heart, Emily spoke calmly. “Yes, you’re in charge, but you’re obviously injured. I can smell the blood. If you let Janet go, I can help you. That’s what you want, isn’t it? You want someone to help you?”
Several moments passed in silence while the stranger stared at her and Janet sobbed at his side. Finally, he shoved Janet into Emily’s arms, where the girl sobbed even harder and clung to Emily like a frightened child. “No tricks,” the stranger rasped. “Or you’re both dead.”
Emily nodded her understanding. “Come into the kitchen where there’s better light.”
She guided Janet into the kitchen with the stranger following slowly. They reached the counter where Emily had been sitting, and she indicated for Janet to sit on one of the stools.
The stranger entered, eyes darting from one side to the other, revolver held at the ready.
Emily swiped her coffee mug and cell phone from the counter while he was distracted. She slipped the phone into her bra and dumped the coffee into the sink. “No one else is here,” she said with her back to Janet and the stranger. Turning to face him, she pointed to the stool most distant from Janet and grabbed a clean dishcloth. “Sit there.”
Wincing in pain, he obediently climbed onto the stool.
Emily patted Janet’s arm as she passed. “Show me,” she ordered the stranger. Standing next to him, she could not only smell the blood but see where it had soaked through the side of both his shirt and jacket. She also caught the faint scent of alcohol on his breath.
He clumsily removed his jacket and lifted his shirt. Blood seeped from an angry gash along his ribs. It was short but deep, and its placement made for a painful wound.
She pressed the small towel against the gash and he hissed in response. “I’ve seen worse but you’re going to need stitches.”
“No doctors,” he growled.
“I thought you’d say that. I can do it but I’ll need to get some supplies from the bathroom.”
He leveled the revolver on the counter, aiming at Janet, and fixed his golden gaze on Emily. “If you’re not back in two minutes, I start shooting.”
She dropped the towel on the counter, and Janet whimpered as Emily stepped around the stranger, leaving the frightened girl in his direct line of fire.
“Wait,” he said, grabbing Emily’s wrist as she passed. “Empty your pockets.”
Emily slowly turned out her pockets, placing a few coins and an old crumpled shopping list on the counter. “Satisfied?”
“No. You.” He motioned for Janet to join Emily. “Pat her down.” His face contoured into a wicked grin. “I’m sure you remember how it’s done.”
Janet’s hands shook as she quickly ran them over Emily’s waist, legs, and torso. “She’s clean,” the girl muttered.
“Check her bra.”
Emily kept very still as Janet tentatively ran her hands over her chest.
Janet stepped back. “Nothing.”
The stranger smacked the back of Janet’s head, making her cry in pain. “Get your hand in there and feel between her tits, you stupid cow.”
Anger rippled through Emily but she forced herself to remain still. If she attacked him, he would undoubtedly kill them both. She could only hope Janet didn’t betray her and left behind the phone she hid in her cleavage.
“I’m sorry,” Janet whispered.
“It’s okay, dear. Just do what you need to do, and we’ll get out of this.”
Emily kept her focus on Janet as the girl reached inside her blouse. She felt Janet’s hesitation at finding the cell phone and saw the question in her eyes before extracting her empty hand.
“She’s clean,” Janet said, her voice a little more steady.
“Good.” He grabbed Janet’s arm, pulled her roughly against him, digging the revolver’s barrel into her side, and glared at Emily. “Your two minutes start now.”
Emily purposefully kept her pace to a brisk walk, determined not to let him see either her anger or her anxiety. Once in the hallway bathroom, she pulled her cell phone from her bra and grabbed bottles of rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide from beneath the sink. She used a hand towel to muffle the sound of her phone’s keys as she quickly typed in a text message:
NEED HELP. GUN.
“One minute,” the stranger called from the kitchen.
Emily hit the send button, dialed a preprogrammed number, and then switched the phone to silent mode. She stuffed it back into her bra and rummaged through the medicine cabinet, grabbing dental floss, tweezers, bandages, and a roll of tape. She gathered the supplies and hurried back to the kitchen as the stranger began a countdown from twenty.
“Took you long enough,” he grumbled when she dropped the supplies on the counter. He pushed Janet onto the stool beside him. “You stay there, where I can see you. I’ll need a snack after this, anyway.”
She ignored him and focused on Janet. “I need a needle. Do you have a sewing kit?”
Janet nodded. “Top drawer beneath the microwave.”
Under the stranger’s watchful gaze, Emily opened the drawer and riffled through the various take-out menus, expired coupons for Vlad’s Tears, paper clips, used twist-ties, and spare batteries until she located the small travel-sized sewing kit. She added three bowls, a roll of paper towels, and another clean dish towel to her pile of supplies.
Silence reigned between them as she filled one bowl with water and poured equal amounts of alcohol and hydrogen peroxide into the other two. She measured out several lengths of floss and dropped them into the alcohol along with the two small needles from the sewing kit. Finally she scrubbed her hands with hot water and a liberal amount of antibacterial soap. Using the water in the bowl and the towel she’d first used on the wound, she cleaned the site until she could see the edges.
/> “What’s your name?” she asked the stranger while she carefully threaded one of the needles with the sterilized floss.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because I’d like to know the name of the man whose flesh I’m about to stick a needle into.”
He studied her for a moment before answering. “Kirk.”
“Well, Kirk, I’m going to need you to hold very still and bite down on this.” She handed him the clean dish towel.
He looked at her in confusion.
“I don’t have any way of numbing this wound,” she explained. “It’s going to hurt. A lot. Unless you want the neighbors to hear you screaming and call the cops, I suggest you bite down on that towel.”
Kirk hesitated, apparently gauging her seriousness. “Just make it quick,” he said and stuffed the towel in his mouth.
“I’ll do my best,” Emily replied and drew a steadying breath.
As she guided the needle into Kirk’s side, the first of his muffled cries filled the kitchen.
sixteen
VARIK ENTERED THE INTERVIEW ROOM IN WHICH PIPER Garver sat, and waited for the girl to acknowledge his presence.
She looked up from the soda she nursed and flinched. “Who are you?”
“My name is Varik Baudelaire,” he said as he crossed the room, trying not to limp. “I’m an Enforcer with the Federal Bureau of Preternatural Investigation.”
“You’re a vamp?”
He nodded and sat down opposite her.
Her eyes scanned his battered appearance. “I didn’t think vamps could bruise like that.”
“No, we bruise same as humans. It just takes more force to do it and they fade quicker.”
She nodded and sipped her drink. “I’m going to jail, aren’t I?”
“Why would you think that? As I understand it, you’re one of the victims here.”
“I saw him kill that man and I didn’t do anything.” She choked back a sob. “I couldn’t do anything but run.”
“That was the smartest thing you could’ve done, Piper,” he said gently. He waited, watching her wipe away her silent tears with a shaky hand.
Damian had filled him in on the details of the attack. A vampire had tried to drag Piper from her car, and when a Good Samaritan intervened, the vampire had killed the truck driver coming to Piper’s aid. The man had left behind a wife and five kids.
When it seemed as though she’d composed herself enough, he leaned forward. “Tell me what happened.”
“I already told that other vamp. Didn’t he tell you anything?”
“Yes, but I’d like to hear your story from you.”
Piper sighed and took a swallow of her soda. “Okay.”
As she related her story, Varik listened, stopping her every now and then to ask a question. She finished talking and he nodded. “That’s good, Piper. That’s very good.”
She gave him a weak smile.
“I have a couple of more questions for you though.”
“Okay.”
“You said you and your cousin, Mindy Johnson, worked for your boyfriend, Kirk Beljean?”
She nodded.
“What kind of work?”
“He called us blood bunnies. He would send us out to clients—vampires—so they could bite us.” She toyed with a loose thread on the arm cuff of her sweatshirt. “We were paid more if we also had sex with them.”
Varik had encountered similar operations in the past. Taking girls and turning them into blood whores disgusted him. Many of the humans caught in illegal blood rings were desperate for money or were enamored with vampires to the point they weren’t able to pass the rigorous psychological testing registered donors faced.
Operations such as Beljean’s were dangerous because of the potential for a vampire to lose control and accidentally—or intentionally—kill their human donor. It was the reason the Central Donor Registry existed and legal blood bars were established.
“Do you know where Kirk may have gone after he attacked you?”
“No.”
“What about Mindy? Do you know who he sent her to last before she disappeared?”
Fresh tears tracked down her cheeks. “No. All Kirk would tell me is that it was a new client and the guy had a thing for redheads.” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. “She’s dead. I know she is. I hooked her up with Kirk. I killed her. Oh, God! Mindy, I’m so sorry.”
She fell into a pattern of repeating “I’m sorry,” and the interview was over.
Alex knew she was dreaming from the moment she opened her eyes. She sat in a straight-backed chair with her arms and legs chained to the bare cement floor. An odd oily sheen coated the dark walls only a few feet from her. The only light source came from a large video monitor, its screen a fuzzy haze of black-and-white pixels.
Sensing movement behind her, she turned as far as the chains would allow. “Who’s there?”
No answer.
“What is this place? What’s going on?”
The screen before her snapped to a flat blackness, plunging her into darkness for a moment, before returning with what appeared to be a film. A man and woman snuggled close in the flickering dimness of candlelight.
Alex felt her heart skip a beat. “Varik.”
The woman tossed her long dark hair over her shoulder and smiled. Focusing on the woman, she now recognized her as Morgan Dreyer. Varik stroked Morgan’s hair, brushing his fingers along her cheek and throat. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.
Betrayal speared Alex.
“You must say that to all your women,” Morgan replied.
Varik smiled, showing the full extent of his fangs. “No, just you, ma puce.”
Morgan laughed and playfully slapped him.
He easily caught her wrists and pulled her closer. “Je t’aime, ma puce,” he murmured and kissed her.
Alex looked away, tears stinging her eyes. She knew Varik had a prior relationship with Morgan, but knowing and seeing were two very different things.
A hand slid across her shoulders, caressing her.
Startled, she searched for the source but saw no one. Soft moans and whispers emanated from the video screen, demanding her attention.
Varik and Morgan had progressed from kissing to foreplay. Morgan ran her fingers through Varik’s hair as he trailed kisses down her exposed stomach and settled between her thighs.
Alex closed her eyes and strained against the chains that bound her. She tried to stand and was forced back into the chair by the short length of the chains. “What the fuck do you want from me?”
The unseen hands stroked her shoulders as one lover would comfort another. “He doesn’t really care for you.”
She looked for the source of the voice but it seemed to originate from everywhere and echoed throughout the small room.
“You’re just one of a long line of women.”
The image on the screen changed, shifting from Morgan and Varik to Varik and a parade of unknown women making love. Dozens of women’s faces flashed on the screen, ending with hers.
“You’re nothing to him,” the voice whispered.
“You’re wrong.”
“Do you truly believe he no longer has feelings for this one?”
The screen showed Morgan holding an infant, speaking to it in soft tones. Varik entered the room and Morgan smiled. “Look,” she whispered to the infant. “Papa is home.”
He gently took the baby from her arms. A mixture of love, joy, and pride shone in his eyes. “Hello, Edward,” he cooed and the infant gurgled in response.
Morgan wrapped her arms around Varik’s waist, leaning on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head in the picture of domestic bliss. More images flickered across the screen. Scenes of Varik chasing a growing child with dark hair, of holding Morgan in his arms while she slept with a sleeping Edward in her arms, and family walks in the sunlight flashed before her.
“See?” the voice intoned. “How could you ever compete with the mother
of his child?”
“Stop it,” Alex murmured, feeling the warm trickle of tears on her cheeks.
The images of Varik, Morgan, and Edward faded and were replaced with a view of Alex, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, humming as she busily chopped carrots in a galley-style kitchen.
“No,” she said. “Not this.”
Varik entered the kitchen, his face pale and drawn, a bandage on his arm.
The Alex on the screen looked up, smiling, but her smile quickly turned to a frown. “Holy shit,” she said, stopping her prep work. “What happened?”
Varik shrugged. “A Midnighter clipped me.” He fingered the bandage covering his biceps. “Took a plug out of my arm.”
“Are you okay? Do you need a doctor? A donor?”
“No, I’m fine. It’s not that bad.”
Screen Alex eyed him uncertainly. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Varik grabbed a piece of chopped raw carrot and popped it in his mouth. “But I’m starving. How long until this is ready?”
Screen Alex returned to chopping vegetables. “Not that long if you’ll help. Would you—Ow!” She dropped her knife and grabbed a towel. “Damn it.”
“Stop this,” Alex whispered to her unseen tormentor. “Shut it off.”
No response met her plea.
Screen Alex was asking Varik to find her a bandage. He didn’t respond except to move closer, his dark eyes shifting rapidly to molten gold.
“Stop it!” Alex shouted as Varik attacked her twin on the screen.
The attack was swift. He pushed her to the floor, straddling her and pinning her to the cold linoleum. Screen Alex screamed for him to stop, to get off, but her cries were silenced as his fangs ripped into the soft tissue of her neck. The picture froze as Varik rose onto his knees, fangs bared and her blood dripping from his gaping mouth.
Alex sobbed and covered her face with her hands, trying unsuccessfully to block the memory of the attack. “Why?” she whispered into her hands. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“To help you.”
Her anger flared, bright and hot. Chains rattled and groaned as she gained her feet and cast her chair aside, shouting, “How is torturing me helping? How is keeping me chained helping?”
Blood Secrets Page 20
