Undefeated

by HELEN HARDT

  My only recourse was to not go back to that dungeon.

  “Why? I can be of much more use to you here.”

  “You’ve not yet completed your training, Dante.”

  “Torture is not training”—I swallowed a lump—“my queen.”

  She smiled at me, shaking her head. “You really have no idea, do you?”

  “No idea about what?”

  “About how important you are. How you can change things for our people.”

  “By being tortured?” I bared my fangs. “If I’m some catalyst for great change, you should treat me as such, not torture me, not force me to fight for my very survival.”

  “But Dante—” She touched my cheek.

  I resisted the urge to cringe.

  “You can only fulfill your destiny if you’re prepared. Everything you endured has made you stronger, and it will make you stronger still.” She bared her fangs. “Are you hungry?”

  Nausea welled in me, traveling like a centipede from my stomach up to my throat. “Not especially.”

  “I am.” She moved toward my neck. “I’ve missed you.”

  No. Just no.

  I stood still, my body rigid.

  “Your pulse is rising,” she said. “I can see the beat in your carotid artery, just waiting for me.”

  “Take me to Lucy,” I snarled. “You will not taste a drop of my blood before I see her.”

  “Oh, Dante,” she laughed. “Just who do you think is in control here?”

  “Wasn’t my blood enough for you?” I seethed. “How long had you been feeding from Erin before I escaped here?”

  She laughed again. “Did you truly think you were my only sustenance? I don’t have to tell you how sweet Erin’s blood is.”

  “You took from her femoral artery. From her thigh.”

  “As I took from yours. Honey is always sweetest closest to the pot.”

  “Why? Why her?”

  “Why not her? Her scent is irresistible.” She sniffed. “Come to think of it, I didn’t scent her when she showed up in the entryway. Why is that?”

  “Maybe your nose is failing.”

  She inhaled. “My nose is just fine, thank you. I can still smell the little wolf’s musk. She is sweet as well, not that I knew that before she was brought here. I didn’t take her blood above ground. Only Erin’s.” She inhaled once more. “I can’t scent you, as you know, but your blood, Dante… Nothing has ever satisfied me quite so well. Made me yearn for more the way yours did.”

  “You’ll get nothing. Not until I see Lucy.”

  “I’ll take what I want from you and anyone else,” she growled. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

  I snarled, and my teeth snapped down farther. “Who am I? I am what you made me.”

  The dark energy bounced through me, as if it were a ball frantically looking for a landing place. I fought against it, snarling and snapping.

  “Give in to it, darling,” she said. “Only then will you be what you’re meant to be.”

  Give in to it. Give in.

  Yes. Give in. I’d let the darkness give me strength. And then I’d use that strength against her.

  The black energy swirled through me, warming my blood as it raced through my vessels.

  “Take. Me. To. Lucy.”

  Her eyes went wide for the tiniest of seconds. For the briefest of time, she’d been…frightened.

  Good.

  No way was I going back to that dungeon. If I could frighten her enough to show me where the women were, I could free them.

  Then I’d deal with her.

  “Again!”

  I twisted my hips and kicked the boxing dummy under his armpit.

  “Again!”

  “Again!”

  “Again!”

  New kicks. New jabs. Then calisthenics until my body was ready to give out.

  “Again!”

  “Again!”

  “Again!”

  My whole body ached, but it was better than being chained down and readied for torture.

  This new training at least gave me a tiny piece of freedom, a chance to exercise my body.

  “Again!”

  “Again!”

  “Again!”

  Then someone entered, clad head to toe in cushioned armor.

  “Fight!”

  I did not move.

  “Fight!”

  No. Would not move.

  “Fight!”

  My opponent moved.

  And then I fought.

  Roundhouse to the cheek, uppercut to the chin. Knife-hand to the neck, front snap kick to the groin. Axe kick to the top of the head.

  He went down.

  Another opponent entered.

  The same.

  The same.

  The same.

  When I was sure I would drop to the ground if forced to work any harder, the trainer finally said, “You’re ready.”

  Fight or die in the arena.

  New memories always jarred me, and this one sent the dark energy from me like steam rising from boiling water.

  I’d known someone must have trained me. I didn’t learn how to fight by osmosis. And now I knew why my muscles didn’t atrophy during my captivity. She had always told me it was her blood that kept my muscles healthy.

  More likely, it was the forced training and workouts.

  My body was robust, and the power growing within me was getting stronger. My ability to control it was strengthening as well.

  How much did she know?

  I’d keep it to myself as long as I could.

  One thing was sure. I would not go back to that dungeon. She’d have to kill me first.

  “Are you taking me to see Lucy or not?”

  “No, Dante. The wolf is a disgusting creature. She has no self-control.”

  “A disgusting creature? She’s a nurse. She cares for patients.”

  “Yes, and she’s Erin’s best friend. That’s what this is really all about, isn’t it? I can understand your concern for your sister, but Lucy doesn’t deserve your concern. She’s been nothing but trouble since she got here.”

  “Then why didn’t you let her go? You let two of the others go. Why not Lucy?”

  “Her wolf brain can’t be glamoured into misremembering, and memory-altering drugs have had no effect. Taking her was a mistake that unfortunately can’t be rectified by returning her.”

  “Let me see her,” I said again.

  “She’s in training.”

  “Why bother training her? If she’s of no use to you, why not just throw her in the arena and let one of your fighting vampires kill her?”

  She huffed. “That’s a tempting idea, and I did think of it. But I know Lucy. She would shift and then kill. Wolves are vicious and carnivorous creatures.”

  “Why not just kill her, then?”

  “Dante”—she met my gaze, her blue eyes icier than usual—“I’m not a killer. I’m creating life here, not taking it.”

  Chapter Nine

  Erin

  “Ready?” River met my gaze and then Jay’s.

  “Ready,” Jay said.

  “Ready,” I repeated.

  River pointed his gun. “Let’s roll.” He opened the wooden door.

  The fluorescent lights shone harshly, making me adjust my eyes once again.

  I blinked, almost expecting to see Dante and Dr. Bonneville across the oblong room, which, I realized, was really more like a wide hallway.

  River and Jay both held their pistols, and though they flanked me and I wore a bulletproof vest, I felt oddly exposed. “Dante and Dr. Bonneville went through that door.” I pointed.

  “Yup. And that’s where we’re going,” River said.

  I swallowed back my fear—or at least tried to—as we inched closer to the door that loomed in front of us.

  “We should have asked Julian what to expect through this first door,” I said.

  “We should have asked him a lot of things,” River said. “He didn
’t stick around, though.”

  “He needs to be with Dante,” I said. “The three of us have each other. Dante is alone in there.”

  “He’s not with Dante, either,” River said. “He’s with that nutty voodoo lady. I hope he knows what he’s doing.”

  “If Bea can get him through the shields, he can find the other women. His brother. Whatever else is hidden here,” I said.

  “We already know Em is here,” River said. “The others have to be.”

  We reached the door on the other side of the room, and River opened it, again leading with his gun.

  Another room ahead, lit with fluorescent lamps. I looked around. A door fabricated from stainless steel lay ahead.

  We walked forward.

  “It’s locked,” River said. “Now they decide to lock us out. Great.”

  My heart sped up, in a good way this time. “Dante is in there somewhere. I can feel it.”

  “What do you feel?” Jay asked.

  “I don’t know. I can’t describe it. I just know it. We have a bond, Jay.”

  “Your bond isn’t doing us any good,” River said. “I can’t pick this lock.”

  “Can you shoot it off?” I asked.

  “I could if it were a padlock, but it’s not. It’s a double deadbolt.”

  “Shit,” Jay said. “Now what?”

  River sighed. “We look for another way in, unless either of you can pick this lock.”

  “Crap,” I said. “Now we really need Dante. Somehow he learned to pick locks.”

  “While he was here, no doubt,” River agreed. “Why would he need to pick locks?”

  “I don’t know,” Jay said. “But it sure came in handy. Do you ever get the feeling that we’re rats in a maze? And someone keeps moving the cheese on us?”

  “All the time, partner,” River agreed.

  A maze was one thing. A puzzle was another, and this was a puzzle. The biggest puzzle piece in my mind was how I would feed Dante—and Dante needed to feed soon. I could feel it. I could feel him.

  I closed my eyes, urging my mind to recall the dream I’d had about the baby crying. About the blood bank full of B positive blood. Maybe I could find a clue in the dream.

  No use. Right now, my fear and my need to feed Dante overwhelmed all else.

  One thing I was certain of, though. We were meant to be here right now. I was meant to be here, to feed Dante.

  I had to find a way in.

  River and Jay were examining the lock on the steel door, so I looked around, scanning the room for anything that might lead us to something. I had no idea what I was looking for, but I was bent on finding it. I had to get to Dante.

  The walls were gray-painted concrete, the floor covered in thin gray carpet, some kind of industrial grade textile. I started at the door and began walking around the edge of the room. I got down on my hands and knees to check the thin carpet, but it was tacked down pretty solidly. Still I wandered around the perimeter of the room, scanning every crevice.

  Come on, Dante. Give me some kind of clue.

  If only Bea were here. I’d welcome one of her statements cloaked in a Shakespeare or Thoreau quotation. At least it would give me something to think about, help me extrapolate what to look for.

  Nothing. Nothing around the perimeter of the room gave me any hope.

  When I returned to the door, Jay and River were both shaking their heads.

  “No way to open this thing without a key or some very sophisticated lock-picking equipment,” Jay said.

  “Maybe we’re going about this the wrong way,” River said.

  “I’m no detective, but I just walked around the perimeter, scanning every inch of this room. I didn’t find any other way out.”

  “I suppose there’s the door we came in,” Jay said.

  “That won’t get us any— Oh!” I clasped my hand to my lips. “What if—” I walked quickly to the center of the room. “What if there’s something between the doors?”

  “Why would there be?” Jay asked.

  “Between the doors of perception.”

  “We already used that,” River said. “The old guy got us here.”

  “Maybe there’s more to what he said.” I bit my lip, urging my brain to recall. “What was the quote Bea used? It’s from Aldous Huxley. I got it! ‘There are things known and there are things unknown, and in between are the doors of perception.’”

  “Yeah,” Jay said. “I don’t think that’s going to help us at the moment, Sis.”

  “Not unless one of you has some mushrooms or LSD,” River agreed.

  “We know what’s on the other side of that door.” I pointed to the wooden door where we’d entered. “But we don’t know what’s on the other side of that one.” I pointed to the steel door that was locked.

  “Sis, you’re a bright woman and a wonderful nurse, but right now, you’re stating the obvious.”

  “Bear with me. Bea used that ‘doors of perception’ quote right before she told us about the ‘most important work of all.’”

  “Which is…” Jay said.

  “She didn’t say in so many words, but she was clearly talking about the Vampyre Texts.”

  “Why would the Vampyre Texts be the most important work of all?” Jay asked. “If there are truly so few vampires left, how could that book be the most important book ever written?”

  “Maybe it isn’t the most important book ever written,” I said. “Maybe it’s the most important book to us. Right now. For our perception. Perception is our reality. ‘It’s not what you look at that matters. It’s what you see.’” I removed my backpack, unzipped it, and slid my hands around the leather-bound book my mother had given me.

  “Say what?” my brother said.

  “Thoreau.” Never had I been so thankful for Bea and my post-high-school Thoreau seminar. “The doors of perception aren’t supposed to be literal.”

  “The two doors we found above ground were pretty darned literal,” River said.

  “Yeah, true,” I said, “but I think Aldous Huxley and Bea have more to teach us.” I caressed the smooth leather of the book.

  “It’s worth a shot, Sis,” Jay said. “See if you can open it.”

  I held the book for a few precious seconds. Is it time? Will you finally show us your secrets?

  The book fell open.

  Chapter Ten

  Dante

  Not a killer.

  True. She’d returned two of the women she’d taken, and Em was alive and appeared to be well cared for—as well cared for as one could be while being held against her will, that was. Better cared for than I was when I was trapped here. Thank God.

  But Bonneville was a killer. She was going to have Lucy thrown in the arena to fight for her life, and her odds were on the vampires.

  “Maybe you don’t pull the trigger, my queen, but make no mistake. You are a killer.”

  The words fell like poison from my tongue. I risked punishment for them, but I uttered them anyway. She’d turned me into a killer.

  I hadn’t yet remembered the murderous strike from each time I had fought in the arena, but I remembered everything up to that point. My brain was probably shielding me from it to protect me.

  No longer.

  I needed total recall now. I needed to know who I truly was.

  You know who you are.

  The dark energy. Always with me. Always part of me.

  “I’m a physician, Dante. I’m a healer. I have been all my life.”

  “No. Whether you do the actual killing doesn’t matter. You force others to do your dirty work. You have Decker, Giles, and the rest. You have Logan Crown. You have…”

  Me.

  The word sat on the edge of my tongue, but I couldn’t say it. Couldn’t force it to drop from my lips.

  “Decker and his gang are thugs, but they’re not killers. And Logan Crown is a physician as I am.”

  But what about me?

  Say it, Dante. Say it. You deserve to know the tr
uth.

  No. Can’t face it. Can’t face the truth.

  “We don’t kill here, Dante. We have a much higher purpose. One that you’ll understand in time. One in which you have a large role to play.”

  As a killer.

  But I didn’t feel like a killer. Even with the darkness inside me, I didn’t feel I was capable of killing. To save my own life? Yes. To save Erin or anyone else I loved? Of course.

  But in the arena, where I was only going to go back to my torturous existence?

  Could I have killed?

  Fight or die in the arena.

  The darkness surrounded me. I must have killed. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be alive.

  Fight or die in the arena.

  Those words. They’d been the truth of my existence since she’d begun dropping me into that black cave of gladiator darkness.

  Had she said them?

  Had someone else?

  They were so formed in my mind, such a part of me…

  Where had they come from?

  “It is time, Dante.”

  “Time for what?”

  “You know what. It’s time for you to return to your dungeon.”

  “No.”

  “I fulfilled my end of the bargain. I allowed you to see your sister.”

  I dropped my fangs in a painful snarl. “You will release my sister. You will release my uncle. You will release Lucy and the others, or I—”

  Something bit at my neck.

  A tug.

  That undeniable tug.

  Chapter Eleven

  Erin

  I gasped.

  “Damn,” River said. “What does it say?”

  I scanned the two pages that were open to me. Most of it was in some sort of hieroglyphic gibberish, but one paragraph stood out.

  In English.

  I read aloud.

  “Though no actual blood bonds have been recorded since prehistoric times, there are a few documented circumstances that could be attributed to the phenomenon. In 1446, a French woman known as Cecile Volande wrote of her power over English Lord Edmund Theophile, known to the council to be a vampire. ‘I am his sustenance, his livelihood. Without me, he cannot exist, for I nourish him from my body, and he in turn provides for me. Our bodies and souls are entwined for eternity. I can bring him to me anytime simply by opening the door.’ Volande and Theophile died within two days of each other in 1478.”