Haven

by Celia Breslin

  My power was still online and I used it to obliterate the psychic barrier in my head and broadcast to anyone who could hear—and I hoped a whole city of super-powered, undead good guys tuned in—Help Me! At the W-T!

  No reply.

  Two gunshots and a sudden overwhelming pain in my right leg and arm sent me sprawling to the ground, screaming. Greg, the bastard, shot me. Jesus, two bullet wounds, two head injuries. I was going to bleed out.

  What happened to the need-me-alive-to-get-paid part of this kidnapping?

  Greg knelt over me. “Fuck magic. We’re doing this old school now.”

  He backhanded me across the face. The world flashed white and my ears rang. He grabbed my injured arm and dragged me across the floor. I screamed, the sound bouncing off the gallery walls.

  Greg dumped me by an empty body bag. Paolo appeared, grabbed my wounded arm and squeezed. My vision swam, the world reduced to black and white spots. He slapped his other hand over my mouth, fingers digging into my jaw. “I’ll make you beg to die, bitch.”

  Greg whipped out a pair of handcuffs and secured my wrists. Paolo released me and limped away. I was relieved at his departure, but it didn’t change the fact I was screwed. A wave of nausea made me retch and I coughed, spewing blood all over Greg. Oh great, internal bleeding. Yep, majorly screwed. Greg backhanded me again and I blacked out.

  I came to, zipped up to my waist inside the body bag. Greg appeared, a small white cloth in one hand.

  “Please,” I croaked.

  “Ah, how the bitchy has fallen.”

  I eyed the cloth. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Do you want money? I have money.” I coughed. No blood this time, but pain speared my body, making my eyes roll up in my head.

  Greg knocked on my forehead with his knuckles until I opened my eyes. “It’s not about money. Well, actually it is, but it’s also, I just don’t like you.”

  I coughed, causing another jolt of pain. “You are so fired.”

  Greg snorted. “Cute, real cute.”

  “The charges are set. Let’s move,” Paolo called out.

  “Charges?” I didn’t like the sound of that.

  Greg nodded. “Explosives. Can’t leave any useful evidence behind, now can we?”

  No. Not the museum. I loved this place.

  “Besides, blowing up shit is fun.” He pulled a small brown bottle out of his coat pocket. “If we’re lucky, your boys will be inside when it blows. That’s the goal, anyway.”

  “What—?” I broke off and swallowed painfully, mouth so dry. “What did you do to Stella?” I grasped at straws, but I needed to know.

  “Me? Nothing. The monsters took care of that lethal bitch.”

  The last shred of hope died in me. Greg opened the bottle and poured some liquid onto the white cloth.

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  The bastard grinned. “Actually, yes, yes I do.”

  I moved my head to keep the cloth away from my face, but it was no use.

  He smashed it against my mouth and nose. “Say goodnight, bitch.”

  Twenty One

  Movement and pain forced me back to consciousness. I lay in the half-open body bag in a vehicle. Every stop, go, turn, and bounce tortured my battered body. I swallowed my pained cries, unwilling to let my captors know I was awake. I didn’t want to be drugged again. Or beaten. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood and listened to the two men.

  Paolo was throwing quite a tantrum, for such a tough guy. “Let’s kill her.”

  “No.”

  “Fine, I’ll kill her then.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “Easy words for you, man. You weren’t the one who got your balls jammed up your ass. She’s fuckin’ strong, freak-of-nature strong.” He groaned. “I think she cracked my fuckin’ ribs.”

  “So? You’ll recover. Quit whining like a girl.”

  “I’m gonna fucking kill her.”

  “Don’t be a fucking idiot,” Greg snapped. “Your ego is bruised ’cause you were taken by a girl, so fucking what? Get over it.”

  “Not just any girl, that girl, and her supernatural shit.” Paolo let out another pained groan. “We should’ve taken her at Adrian’s when we had the chance. That magic shit fucked up everything.”

  Greg snorted. “Shoulda, coulda, woulda. Calm down and stick to the plan.”

  “Well, they better fucking kill her.”

  “I don’t give a shit what they do with her and you shouldn’t either. Focus on the prize, my friend, that fat, seven-digit prize.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Paolo sounded quieter now, but no happier. “She’s close enough to dead, anyway, I guess, since you shot her. Why the hell did you do that?”

  “Why the hell didn’t you?”

  Silence.

  “She won’t die,” Greg continued. “I didn’t hit anything major. Just winged her.”

  “Too bad.”

  “Shut the fuck up, man.”

  Their Neanderthal chatter faded away. I knew this meant I was passing out again, but I welcomed it, invited the darkness, the cold, the calm, because if I had to die now, I didn’t want to do it listening to those two idiots.

  ~ * ~

  Darkness. Fresh ocean air, boots on gravel, rough hands on my body. Tugging. Lifting. Cigarette smoke, antiseptic, iron. Cold metal against my back. Hands, hands all over me. Something sharp sliding along my skin. Cloth ripping. A voice.

  Rina. It’s Faith. Can you hear me?

  My eyes shot open. I sat on a stone floor, in a long hallway lit by wall sconces, wearing a...pink nightie?

  Oh great, not this dream again, I complained to the empty hallway. At least no bad guys this time.

  You’re not dreaming. But you’re unconscious. And trapped. I am, too.

  I glanced around. Faith? Is that you?

  Yes, Rina.

  Why can’t I see you?

  That’s not important right now. Listen, your body—

  What about it?

  You’re hurt.

  Yes, I’m aware of the brutal beating I took from Team Evil. From the second string players. What a confidence shaker. So we’re having a psychic chat in this imaginary hall in my brain because I can’t wake up, right?

  Yes. And they can’t help you. Listen.

  “She was to be unharmed,” Dr. O’s deep voice rumbled.

  My eyes widened in surprise. Dr. O’s a bad guy?

  Faith shushed me.

  “She’s alive,” Greg replied, tone defensive.

  “She is gravely injured.”

  “But she’s one of you. She can heal fast, right?” Greg’s voice cracked, his confidence fraying.

  “What she is or is not, is none of your concern, human.”

  “We had no choice.” Paulo snapped the words in defiance.

  Silence.

  “Drain them.”

  “Oh fuck!” Paolo yelled at the same time Greg protested, “You can’t do this. We did what you wanted. You owe us, we—” His words cut off.

  A female voice spoke next. “Heal her, Oliver.”

  Brigid. Fucking Brigid.

  I told you she was evil! Why didn’t any of you believe me? God dammit! Now I knew the source for dead witch Tiffany’s enhanced power.

  “I have done what I can,” Dr. O replied to her. “But she bleeds inside, here and here.”

  Brief pressure in my head and gut. Dr. O’s touch?

  “She requires surgery we cannot provide. That, or a miracle.”

  Fear gripped me at his words.

  “She is not so weak. Feed her the blood of the two who failed us. Her body will do the rest.”

  “Do not tell me how to do my job.” Judging by his tone, he didn’t like her much. Useful info, if I could wake up. Oh, and not die.

  “You all forget she is human,” Dr. O continued.

  “Half human.”

  “She is all too human and you have cut her
off from her vampire bloodline, ripped her from her fountainhead, and imprisoned her essence in this battered shell. Even with a meal of fresh blood, her vessel cannot combat the internal bleeding quickly enough. She must reconnect to her source, for only her father can save her now.”

  “Lies. You would say anything to help her escape us. I know you do not believe in our cause.”

  “I cannot lie to you. Revenge is for fools.”

  Brigid huffed. “It is not solely revenge we seek.”

  “But revenge drove you to this evening’s foolishness. I speak the truth. Without the blood of the Father, she will perish and you will fail in your quest for your vengeance and her power.”

  “No, Oliver, it is you who will die if you do not heal her. Need I remind you I can remove my protection from your person at any moment? My will alone keeps you safe within this circle. I do not wish to see you reduced to dust, my friend, but...”

  “Do not threaten me, old woman. We are both far too old for such petty threats. You should be grateful I answered your call at all. The price for your betrayal will be great.”

  “It is not I who will pay this evening.”

  “This bitterness is beneath you. Our Prince has been a just master to you, when in truth, he could have destroyed you. This is how you thank him? You forget, there was good reason he destroyed the Dark One, so blinded are you by your love for the fallen one. One might almost accuse you of being too human in this regard and that, old woman, that will be your downfall.”

  “Enough!” Brigid’s voice wailed through my imaginary hallway like a banshee.

  Dr. O remained unfazed. “Yes, it is enough. While we stand here mired in past angst, the princess slips further away into a permanent darkness from which she will never awake.”

  “Waxing poetic now? That does not make me believe your words.”

  “Then let her die. I will say I told you so, but it will not make me happy to have been proven correct.”

  “Damn you, Oliver!”

  “We are both already damned.”

  Brigid spat out a torrent of Gaelic and the conversation faded away.

  You still here, Faith? I asked my empty hall.

  Yes.

  So, I’m bleeding internally and—

  You’ll die if you don’t use your Key.

  Wait, what? Dr. O hadn’t mentioned Alexander. Hospital, miracle, my father.

  They don’t know what you’ve done. That he can save you. You have to show them.

  Uh, hello, stuck in psychic hell hall here. Why don’t you tell them? You’re out there.

  Faith sighed. I can’t. My body...she poisoned me with her black magic. I can’t move or speak.

  Panic squeezed my heart. Are you dying?

  No, I’m paralyzed and still mind-blind. I’m not even sure how I managed this visitation with you, though I suspect we have the vampire marks to thank for it.

  Okay not dying. Good. So what now?

  Summon your Key.

  But—

  Do it, Rina. Please, her voice faded. Save yourself, then save us all.

  Faith?

  No reply. She was gone.

  You forgot to tell me how. I was stuck in my head, a figment of my own imagination, unable to touch Alexander or manifest any real power. Oh, wait. Faith said summon, as in give him a call.

  Alexander.

  Nothing.

  Maybe I needed to amplify the call. More words. Magic words. Not my forte but I had nothing to lose and my life to gain.

  Hear me, Alexander. By my blood you are mine. By your blood, I am yours. Come to me. By blood we are bound and you must be here now. There, not bad. But would it work?

  A roar filled my faux hallway. A surge of hope. I rose on trembling imaginary legs. A door appeared in the wall and I banged on it. Alexander? I’m in here! I need you! Can you hear me?

  I hear you, Brigid replied from behind me.

  I whirled. Her magic hit me in the chest, pinned me to the door, my feet a few inches off the ground. She glared at me with midnight blue, hate-filled eyes, mouth an angry red slash on her face. You summoned the Youngling. Oliver insists you are human, dying, yet you managed to break our hold on the young one, awaken him and call him to your side. How do you suppose that is possible?

  A rhetorical question?

  Speak!

  Okay, not rhetorical. We’re uh, married.

  Brigid crossed her arms, eyes narrowed to evil slits. Explain.

  What, married didn’t say it all? Fine. We did a binding thing. Last night.

  You bound yourself, one to the other? Her voice sounded blasé, but rage flashed in her eyes.

  Yes.

  How?

  I didn’t want to answer her, especially not with a blow by blow, but I had to give her something. I needed out of this dream hallway before my body died for real. We shared blood.

  And? she growled.

  And we exchanged vows.

  She scowled, staring at a spot above my head. She has confirmed the Youngling’s story. Did you know of this, Oliver? Her voice was calm, but the tone threatening.

  Dr. O’s voice sounded from behind the door. “No.”

  Your word?

  “My word of honor. I swear to you, I was unaware the binding had come to pass.”

  Around us, the hallway shimmered, like a mirage threatening to disappear.

  Dr. O called out. “Decide, Brigid. She is failing.”

  Failing? As in dying? Shit. Alexander, Alexander, Alexander. I clung to his name, my lifeline.

  Brigid closed the small distance between us. Her palm shot forward and smacked me in the forehead. Wake up, mongrel.

  ~ * ~

  My body thrashed on a metal table, restricted by hands on my arms and legs and a hard chest pressed against mine. More hands grabbed my head preventing it from hitting the cold steel under me. My mouth opened and closed like a dying fish as I screamed a silent scream, the pain, too much pain, choking me.

  “Hurry, Youngling,” Dr. O urged, from his spot securing my arms.

  “Working on it.” Alexander. The body pressing against my chest, the strong hands holding my head belonged to him. My eyes flew open and locked with his beautiful blues.

  “Carina.” He kissed my forehead, wiped pain tears from my cheeks.

  “Now, Youngling,” Dr. O warned.

  Alexander snarled at the other man, slashed his wrist and put the wound to my mouth. “Drink, Carina. By my blood I am yours. Take my blood and heal. Please.”

  No need to beg on that one. Blood gushed from the deep wound and I drank it in greedy gulps. A delicious warmth fanned out from my gut, chasing out the pain, healing me. Bye-bye internal bleeding. Gone. Like magic.

  Our magic.

  My body relaxed. Dr. O released my arms and whoever held my legs followed suit. I gripped Alexander’s forearm, pressing my mouth hard against his wrist, lips forming a tight seal while I drank and drank. His eyes, now vampire black, lost their glow of power, the light fading from their depths like a flashlight running out of batteries. His head slumped forward, resting on my chest.

  Alarmed, I stopped drinking. “Alexander?”

  He lifted his head and flashed me a weak smile I didn’t return. The wound on his wrist remained open. Vampire flesh heals quickly so why...Oh, crap. I took too much. I hurt him.

  “I’m sorry.” I pushed my fingers through the unruly brown locks falling over his forehead. He closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. I continued stroking his hair, letting my fingers linger on the skin at his temples, tracing his hairline down to his cheek. He put his hand over mine, pressed his face into my palm. He was cold, too cold.

  He opened his eyes and straightened. “You need to feed now.”

  “I think I should be the one saying that to you.” I felt fine, weak and tired, but otherwise pain free. Of course, I hadn’t tried moving.

  Alexander helped me sit up. Dried blood caked his bracelet and arm, his shirt in tatters, beautiful chest
riddled with bullet holes. Paolo and Greg had shot my man way too many times. A miracle he’s still here with me.

  I squeezed his hand. “Why haven’t you healed?”

  “Some bad-for-me herbs in the witch’s potion.”

  “And blood loss,” Dr. O added from the foot of the table.

  “Then feed him,” I snapped.

  The doctor stared at me with dark, unreadable eyes. “I am indeed sorry to say I cannot assist you, Princess.”

  I frowned and shifted my legs. Two beefy hands grabbed my ankles.

  They belonged to another vampire, a bald giant with a thick, auburn handlebar moustache. He stood well over six feet, a wall of muscle with a Santa Claus gut, all of him squeezed into black leather from chest to foot.

  I glared, refusing to be intimidated by his size. “Let me go.”

  “Release her, Aaron.” Brigid’s voice snapped in command.

  Aaron, the vampire, disappeared in a whoosh of air, jostling the remains of my shirt. Someone had ripped it up the middle. My jeans looked a mess, too, the left pant leg missing, the rest ripped and bloodied. My lacy, red bra and matching panties remained intact, but my shoes and socks were gone.

  Blood rushed to my face. Great, barely dressed and blushing in front of the bad guys.

  Dr. O glanced up from scrutinizing my rib cage, eyes locking with mine. “Brigid, might you have some attire for the princess?”

  I didn’t catch her reply because Alexander collapsed to his knees. “Shit.” I hopped off the table, but my legs were too weak to support me and I fell on my man, toppling us to the ground. I pressed my lips to his ear. “Feed on me.”

  “Not for this, Carina. You’re not food. Never food.” He tried to push me off and failed.

  “But you fed me. Why can’t I—?”

  “No, I helped you heal. My vampire blood isn’t a meal, so you haven’t yet fed. You’ll need to, soon.”

  “I’m fine, you’re not.”

  “No.” His eyes closed.

  “Please, Alexander. Don’t leave me.” I half-sobbed, panicked.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” He tried to joke, but he was cold, weak. His injuries might not kill him, but he was hurting, fading, drifting to some near-death state far away from me, and it wouldn’t do.