by Kara Jaynes
I frown. “Why would they want her?” The thought of them poking her full of needles, keeping her in a cold, dark dungeon makes my blood boil in rage.
Lyra shakes her head. “I’m not certain they got her, but if they didn’t, someone else has. You know she'd never just up and leave Quinn. Maybe one of the gangs got her.” She grimaces. “That might mean worse for her.” Anger and fear glitter in her dark gaze, and she clenches her fists.
“I’ll find her,” I promise. I gesture behind her. “May I come in? I want to see if I can find any clues in her room.”
“If I said no, would you come in anyway?” she asks.
I shrug. “Probably.”
She sighs. “Fine.” She opens the door wider, still watching me. “Wow, you’ve put on some muscle. You look pretty hot, Wilder.” She snorts. “Just don't tell Stella I said that. She’ll have my head.”
I don’t respond and brush past her. Her ears can’t catch the screams and shrieks I hear, several blocks away, but I suspect the streets aren’t particularly safe right now, and I want to get inside.
Dishes are piled in the sink, and crumbs gather in corners, the counters covered with clutter. The disorganization sets my teeth on edge.
Stella’s room isn’t much better. Books are stacked next to her mattress, clothes thrown in an untidy heap.
I close the door in Lyra’s face. “I’ll only be a moment,” I tell her.
She unsuccessfully tries to open the door. “Why did you close the door, you creeper?” she calls. “Let me in.”
I ignore her and inhale deeply. Stella’s room smells like the cheap vanilla scented perfume I once bought her, and like the pages of old books. And like her, of course. I’d spent a lot of time in here. We were two shy fools in love. We’d never gone past kissing.
My fingers curl into fists. Just kisses. That will change. I step closer to her bed. When I find her, I'm going to—
The door opens, and Lyra stalks in. “What are you doing?”
My thirst is building, and my mouth waters. Lyra is so close; I can almost feel the rise and fall of her breath. I can smell the blood that pulses through her; sharp, tangy, delicious blood.
Time to leave. “I'm going to find Stella. Take care, Lyra.”
With that, I'm out of the house and bolting down side streets in seconds, following the thin, almost faded scent of Stella. I feel like a hound, set to catch its quarry, and the thought makes me cackle.
This hound will catch the vixen.
Her scent leads me to the elven fortress, and I don't like that one bit. That's better than the dungeon they kept me in, but still. What could she possibly be doing here?
The screams have died away. I have no idea what that means, but I need to lie low for a while. I’m not keen on entering the elven fortress right now. Not until I get a better idea of what is going on.
In the meantime, it's time to pay a visit to some old friends. Payback is long overdue.
23
Wilder
I race through the streets, groaning with the effort of resisting the temptation of blood. This city is packed with blood. Red. Wet. Enticing.
I grit my teeth and increase my pace. No. I must resist. I don’t even need it; I’m still full from feeding on the elf woman. So why do I still crave it?
My skin prickles, and I glance up at the sky. I’m not sure how I know, but it’ll be dawn within a couple of hours. I must be in the cover of darkness before that happens.
Reaching the docks, I sprint to an abandoned warehouse, dilapidated with age, its walls seemingly made of rusty metal and peeling paint.
It’s not abandoned, the same as when I last visited this place.
I skid to a halt before its door, my heart pounding, but I’m not tired. Maybe I’ll never feel tired again.
Knocking on the door and waiting for nearly fifteen minutes had been the standard procedure in the past, but not tonight. I’m done playing the role of a pawn.
I’m going to make the rules. I will be the one who takes and gives nothing back. Revenge hums through my veins.
With a running start and a tremendous leap, I’m scaling the wall, up to the nearest window. I can smell humans inside, but there’s something off about them. I can’t tell what.
Breaking the small glass window requires no effort, and in a moment, I’m inside. My eyes adjust almost immediately, and I take in the scene.
A woman is huddled beside a small electric heater, shivering uncontrollably. I think it has less to do with the cold, and more to do with the three men standing over her, arguing with each other.
They’re like me, vampiric creatures. They must have escaped from the dungeon, too. I recognize them as gang members of the Gold Fist. These are the men I’d often come to for doses of the star-blood.
They turn to face me, and my lips peel back in a snarl. I do my best to make it a false smile. This will be harder than I anticipated. “Gentlemen.”
“Well, if it isn’t ol’ Cringy.” One of the men laughs, his pale, scarred face twisting into a sneer. Burt. He’s a thug of the worst sort. My stomach roils with pent-up rage as I remember all the crimes he had me commit once he knew I was under the thrall of star-blood. I’d stolen, kidnapped and even killed, and it’s only now I can recall all that I’ve done.
All done for this depraved, selfish idiot.
I hadn’t known he’d fallen under the effects of star-blood, but if he was a vampire now, he must have.
I spread my hands in a gesture of friendliness. “Long time, no see.”
“I see you no longer need the star-blood,” Burt grins, revealing fangs. “Real blood is where it’s at, now. Am I right, Cringy?”
“I go by Wilder, now,” I say mildly. “And you are correct. I’m not in the business for star-blood.”
Burt’s eyes gleam. “Oh, yeah? Then why are you here?”
“Two reasons,” I reply. I take a step closer. “First, I want to know why the elves turned us. You have an uncanny talent of hearing things you shouldn't, Burt. Do you have any idea why we're like this?”
Burt's large nose wrinkles. Even as a vampire he isn't much to look at. “I haven't heard nuthin’,” he says. “The elves seemed none too pleased to find us like this. Started killing us, remember? Only some of us made it out alive.” He cocks his head. “Must have been some sort of mistake. A science experiment gone wrong.” He cackles. “We can beat them down, now. We're as strong as they are.’
“Hmm.” I tap my chin. That is disappointingly little knowledge. It is extremely frustrating not having more information to go on. Were the elves really trying to heal us? If so, how could the spell, or whatever it was, turn out so spectacularly bad?
I glance at the woman. She hasn’t looked up, her gaze locked on the small heater. She’s rocking and mumbling under her breath, but my improved hearing can make out the words.
She’s praying.
Please protect me from the demons. Please protect me, please protect me, please, please—
It is time to end this. What the woman witnesses tonight might very well scar her for life, but hopefully she'll prefer it to becoming someone's meal.
As if reading my thoughts, Burt's red eyes narrow. “What’s your second reason for coming?” he asks.
No time like the present. “You owe me,” I say smoothly, “and I've come to collect my payment.”
Burt frowns, suspicion etching his features. “I don't owe you anything. You got the star-blood. I paid whatever I owed you, and not a pinch more.” His gaze flickers to the woman. “You can't have her. She's mine.”
“This isn't about what you paid me,” I say softly, “it's about what you did to me. Boys, it's payback time.” It's going to be three against one, but it's a risk I am willing to take.
I lunge at the closest vampire, a man who manages to look dull-witted even in his awakened state. He barely has time to react before I sink my teeth into his throat.
He bellows in pain, and we crash to the floor. I bra
ce my feet on the wooden planks, using my weight to pin him down.
His blood tastes awful. I pull away in disgust, spitting the vile liquid, and rake him across the face, leaving lines of dark red.
The other henchman leaps on me with a snarl, and I shoulder him off.
“Rip his head off!” Burt shouts. “That’ll quiet him for good.”
So that’s it.
Still gripping the collar of the first vampire, I use my other hand to silence him permanently, surprise flickering through me when I behead him with such ease.
The second vampire is on me, claws digging into my shoulders as he yanks me back.
Burt punches me in the face so hard I see stars for a moment. On instinct, I swipe my arm out, connecting with the side of Burt’s head. With a wrench, I fling the other vampire up and over, so the two collide.
I dispatch the second vampire and finally Burt. All is still and quiet except for my ragged breaths.
I have blood up to my elbows, dark and sticky. I must look a sight. I glance at the woman, and she cowers back, whimpering whines bubbling from her throat.
She smells so good, I can hardly stand it. I can see myself curled around her frail form, draining her of all her blood, leaving her quiet.
Dead.
My face contorts, my body tense. I must hold myself back. I already killed one woman. How many more will die?
“Get out,” I say, my voice savage. “Get out!”
Scrabbling to her feet, the woman bolts, the sounds of her sobs and footsteps fading.
If she’s smart, she won’t go outside in the night ever again.
Monsters live in the dark, now.
I should probably be more bothered by the three corpses lying beside me, but I’m not. I peer out the window and sniffing the air, know that it’s close to dawn. I’ll stay here, today, and never mind the bodies.
It’s a shame I can’t eat them, and the thought stops me short. “Pull yourself together,” I snap at myself. “You may be stronger and faster than ever, but that doesn’t have to make you a complete beast.”
I close the window and pull down the rickety shutters.
Searching the different rooms, I find an old bed, the mattress stained and lumpy. I creep under the frame. It’s the darkest place I can find in this warehouse. I can’t explain it, but even the idea of daylight makes me shudder.
Heaving a sigh, I close my eyes and try to sleep.
I hope Stella is all right, wherever she is.
24
Stella
It's been almost two weeks since my capture. The first bleak threads of hopelessness have tightened around me.
What if Lyra left? That’s foolishness. She'd never leave Quinn unless circumstances made her staying impossible, I am almost sure of it.
But then, I'd been sure I could escape. Yet I am still here.
It's early afternoon, and it's sunny outside. Rare for Liberty, especially in the winter. I'm sitting at my window, looking out. Not much to see, same as always. I can hear the bustle of city life, though, a distant drone in my ears.
I put my head in my hands with a groan. There's nothing for it. I will have to tell Eldaren about Quinn and beg him not to conduct any scientific experiments on him. Surely, he won't. But what if he does?
As if thinking of him is a summons, my door opens, and the prince walks in.
“I’m going to trust you,” Eldaren says, as soon as he sees me.
“With what?” I ask.
“I’m letting you go,” he says. “Onto the streets of Liberty.”
I try very hard to keep my voice neutral. This is my chance to slip away and never return. My only chance. I can feel it humming in my veins. “Okay.” I smile tentatively at him.
It’s then I notice Eldaren is dressed strangely for an elf. He’s wearing a slouchy knit hat that’s pulled over the tips of his ears; his long black hair pulled back into a tail. He’s replaced his well-tailored clothing with a tight t-shirt, bomber jacket, and loose jeans. He still manages to look perfect, even in such casual attire.
“You even have sneakers,” I remark. “Why the new outfit? You look—” my eyes narrow, “—like a human.”
“Good.” The elf glances down. “You humans dress horribly, by the way. No sense of fashion or self-respect, whatsoever, particularly since the nineteen-fifties onward.”
I chew the inside of my cheek as I regard him. “You’re coming with me, aren’t you?”
Eldaren blinks. “Of course. If I allow you to go alone, you’ll slip away and hide. Don’t bother to deny it. It’s very likely I’d have to dig up the entire city to find you, which is an inconvenience I’d rather avoid. Plus, I want to keep you safe.” His expression darkens as if he remembers something. “We need to be back before dark.”
“Why?” I ask. I look down at the training clothes I'm wearing. I should change into something that doesn't look so elven.
My mood sours when I turn my gaze back to the prince, taking in his clothes. “Why the disguise? Why not march me around like the prisoner I am? Why take me into Liberty at all?”
“Two reasons,” he says evenly. “One, you are not a prisoner, you are my—” he pauses, “girlfriend.” His nose wrinkles. “I think that's the right word. Girlfriend, wife, romantic interest, consort; you have so many titles for ‘mate,’ that I can't remember them all. Reason number two, you said you’d tell me why you like history if I let you go into the city. I want to know why. I intend to learn all of your secrets, Stella.” He tilts his head. “Now that I think of it, there's a third reason. I want you to love me, and I suppose if I show you what humans perceive as kindness, that will improve my odds of winning your affection.”
A long sigh escapes me as I stand and walk over to the wardrobe. “Well, at least you’re honest.”
“Naturally. I have no reason to lie to you.” His face is carefully guarded against emotion, but I can see the raw hope in his gaze. He's hoping this excursion will soften my cold, stony heart.
Not a chance. At least, not until I can get Quinn somewhere safe. Then maybe there will be. But I will not allow myself to think about it.
I fling a hand toward the door. “I need to get into something more appropriate for the city. If you wouldn’t mind . . .”
Eldaren doesn’t move. His face is impassive, but color rises to his cheekbones. “I am your companion, Stella. You shouldn’t feel uncomfortable around me, regardless of the circumstances, or what you are doing.”
I point to the door. “Out. Now.”
He scowls but complies, closing the door behind him.
Excitement surges through me, and I dress quickly, slipping into jeans, a white T-shirt, and a black leather jacket. All of them are newer and nicer than anything I've ever owned. They are of a normal cut and style though, and don't look elven. I open the door and run into the hall, almost colliding with Eldaren.
“I'm ready,” I say.
“Then we shall depart.” The prince turns and strides down the hall, and I almost have to run to keep up, taking three steps for every one of his.
It is so surreal to ditch this place, even if it’s only temporary. We are leaving the elven base. In a few minutes, we step beyond the gates and are out in the city.
One of the guards eyes me askance as we pass. “Would you like an escort, my prince?”
“No,” Eldaren replies, and the guard nods.
“Strange,” I say, walking down Fourth Avenue with him, “most rulers take armed guards wherever they go. You know, for safety reasons.”
“There isn't a danger in the city that I cannot handle,” he replies. I study his face as we walk, but I don't detect any pride or conceit. He takes it as simple fact.
“Well, it's good to know that I'm so safe.” Not.
“I'm glad,” Eldaren says solemnly. His gaze flickers over the road and buildings, scanning the area for signs of trouble. “Is there anywhere you'd like to go?” His eyes turn back to me. “Perhaps you have some items at your o
ld home you'd like to pick up and bring back to the base.”
I have to admire how casual he makes it sound, but I know why he wants to know where I live, and it's not happening.
“Let's go down to the market,” I say with a forced smile. “There are lots of interesting things to see down there.”
“I had to clear some of it out,” Eldaren responds, slowing his pace so I can keep up. “There was a fair amount of dangerous and illegal goods being sold. So, it won't be as big as you remember.”
“I was there not too long ago,” I say. “And I approve. I'm not as frightened to be there, now.”
“Ah. Good.” The prince sounds pleased. “I haven't been there myself since I gave the order to have it cleaned, so I am interested to see what it is like.”
“You'll find out soon enough,” I say. It'll be the perfect place to slip away. Yes, the space elves cleaned it of some of the shadier shops, but it's still packed with people.
“If we are separated, promise me you’ll return to the base,” Eldaren says suddenly.
I eye him curiously. “Do you think we’ll become separated?”
“No, but this is Liberty, after all. It’s not safe, even when it feels like it is.”
“I am aware of Liberty’s perils,” I snort. “Fine. I’ll, um, go back.” Just not right away.
The market is down on First Avenue, by the waterfront. I smell it before we even see it. It reeks of fish. I wrinkle my nose, and, as the press of people begins to thicken, I step closer to Eldaren before I can catch myself.
He doesn’t notice. The prince’s gaze is scanning the crowd. His body is tense as if he expects an attack at any moment. “Is something wrong?” I ask.
“No. Everything is fine.” He glances at me for a split second before his eyes rove over the crowd again.
“Are you looking for someone?”
“No.”
“What are you doing, then?”
