by D B Nielsen
Sleep.
Yes, she would sleep now.
But some instinct whispered, Wake up.
Wake up. It’s time.
Chapter 15
“Aislinn, wake up!” Stanislav shouted over the cacophonous blast that had been set off down the tunnel at a blocked-off and forgotten ventilation shaft. Marauding vampires could be heard fighting with Marcellus’s guards as they poured in after Zhenya. The clash of steel blades and the stutter of semi-automatics smothered the desperate yells and curses of the men in battle. Ignoring this, he turned toward his steely-eyed companion and asked, “Why don’t you take those things out of her? What’s wrong with her?”
“Dark magic. Don’t touch them. Careful, they’re pronged. If I don’t do this properly, it’ll do more harm than good, possibly even kill her, she’s lost so much blood already.” Nikolaus’s face was grim. He reached into the med-kit satchel he was holding and drew out several glass vials and a syringe. Shouting over his shoulder, he demanded, “Benjamin! Get over here and decipher these alchemical symbols for me, will you?”
Benjamin slammed the heel of his boot into the face of one of Marcellus’s men as he writhed on the floor. At Nikolaus’s cry, he turned toward Varya. “Finish him off for me.”
He didn’t wait for Varya’s nod before crossing to where Aislinn lay unconscious on the bloodletting table.
“Help me with these symbols,” Nikolaus said, motioning to the IV drip filled with its glowing, fluorescent liquid. He deliberately stopped the flow by closing the roller clamp on the IV tubing but was wary of doing more. “There’s something on the plastic tube at the bottom. I can’t make it out.”
Benjamin was careful not to touch the tube. “I don’t need to know alchemy to tell you what’s being pumped into her. It’s a sedative laced with absorbed radiation. Ultraviolet. I suppose I should be surprised she isn’t dead, but that’s our Aislinn.”
“Chyort! Ultraviolet? Is true? How the Vlad is she able to do that?” Stanislav shook his head in amazement.
There was no time to answer as shouts were heard from the other side of the tunnel, accompanied by a rush of heavy boots as guards poured into the room, heralding the arrival of Marcellus and the dark mage from elsewhere within the twisting labyrinth.
“Idi syuda! Come on!” Stanislav screamed at them, buying his people some time and then rushing toward the dark mage. “Schas po ebalu poluchish, suka, blyad! That’s right, you heard me, motherfucker!”
“A five-pronged hook,” Nikolaus said quietly, concentrating solely on his patient. “Embedded beneath the tissue, holding open the artery. I don’t dare pull it out without her conscious. But I can stop the flow of blood with clamps.”
Benjamin nodded impatiently. “Give her the booster shot.”
“Hold her steady if you don’t want to lose your manhood. She’s going to try to rip your balls off when she comes to.” the unusual blue-gray eyed vampire advised as he slammed the needle filled with pure adrenaline into the middle of her sternum and injected the liquid Epinephrine directly into her aorta.
It was a good thing Benjamin was pressing down with all his weight because Aislinn immediately lunged upright—or tried to—breaking the barbed restraints and Benjamin’s nose as her forehead slammed against his face. Blood gushed briefly onto her cheek. Not hers, his.
“What took you so long?” was the first thing she said to them. The second was to Benjamin. “Your nose is broken. Have Nikolaus reset it, or I will. Believe me when I say that Nik will be much gentler.”
“She’s lost a lot of blood, I’d just ignore her bad temper,” Nikolaus recommended as Benjamin eased away. “Here, help me remove these restraints. Hurry. She may need a transfusion.”
“Ms. PMS needs a personality adjustment more than a blood transfusion,” Benjamin griped, the lower half of his face covered in blood, smeared on like warpaint. But he took the hemostatic clamp and, with a gentleness at odds with his size, began removing the embedded spikes from her chest while Nikolaus paid greater attention to her opened arteries.
“You wouldn’t say that if my hands were free,” Aislinn said, slowly regaining her wits as the world came back into focus.
Benjamin laughed. It was a deep rumble in his chest. “That’s exactly why I said it. I’m not an idiot. You’re the most badass badass around.” He motioned his head toward the melee. “If I had to choose between that lot and you, I’d place my bets on you any day.”
Stanislav raced past them, past Varya who was finishing off another two guards, past Zhenya who had finally returned from chasing down the cowardly guards breaking ranks to flee down the tunnels, toward the dark mage. But he was too late. One second before he fired the semi-automatic, the dark mage released his spell in a spiral of red sparks.
The next second, a wrecking ball smashed into the back of Stanislav’s head, and he pitched forward, slamming into the ground at the mage’s feet. Several bones crunched beneath the impact of the blow. Blood poured onto the brick and concrete. He tried standing up. More blood poured down his face.
“Why are you fighting me? You must be aware that you’ve been lied to by your Creator. I can bring back souls from the well of eternal darkness.” The dark mage watched him. His face was a mask of deceptive pity. He did not care.
Stanislav knew the deceiver dabbled in black magic, the darkest arts. He knew the cost of a bargained soul in the death of his brother. He did not trust the words of a rogue mage who stole the lifeforce from other living creatures and would gleefully betray his own business partners for lordship and dominion.
“You’re still so shortsighted. You still believe, despite your immortality, that in the end all things perish and die. Even now, you cannot understand the true laws of nature. Why is it that we pass from this realm when nature moves in cycles?” The dissembling guise of the dark mage fooled no one, despite his charmed words. “The ancient oaks. The climate. The tides. All you see is a dying universe and the clay of a cold star. But what if I told you that death is merely a gateway? You may pass through it on your journey and on your return. Join with me, brother. All I need is the blood of the daughter of Kayne.”
Stanislav spat on the floor. He could taste his blood, even as the wound began to heal. It was the familiar metallic taste that kept him on his feet, a memory of his boyhood in Moscow when he had been beaten senseless by the Tsar’s soldiers for stealing vegetable scraps from a farmer’s pigpen that was meant for his pigs. That was the day he realized rage and the desire for revenge smelled and tasted like blood.
“You are not my brother! Suka, blyad!” he shouted in response just before he raised his semi-automatic at the dark mage again, who was already fashioning another deadly spell.
Without a word, Marcellus lowered his head and charged like a bull on steroids. He knocked the semi-automatic weapon from Varya’s steady hand, so fast she was unable to take aim and fire and didn’t see the blow coming. She didn’t see the fist that smashed into the side of her neck, hurling her into the tunnel wall. The brickwork splintered and cracked on impact, as did several bones.
“Pathetic. I honestly expected more from one of Caleb’s most skilled warriors.” Marcellus’s voice was flat and emotionless as he approached at speed. “I’ve waited a long time for this, and you’re such a disappointment. Let’s finish this quickly then.”
“Bring it.” Whirling, immediately on her feet, Varya unsheathed the dagger at her hip, but the jacked-up Praetorian was too fast, delivering a body kick that landed clean. She was thrown backward yet never even hit the ground as Marcellus erupted into the air, faster than the eye could follow, leaping forward to encircle her throat.
Varya convulsed as his left hand squeezed tightly and lifted her up so that they were eye-to-eye. She kicked out aimlessly.
“Bastard,” she managed to squeeze out.
“My pleasure.” Marcellus gleefully slammed her against the wall, the back of her head hitting the solid brick with a resounding crack so that she saw da
ncing lights and stars and felt a sudden shock of clammy darkness close around her.
“Get away from her!” Aislinn shouted.
Marcellus raised his head, slinging it around toward where Aislinn was still pinned to the bloodletting table. His eyes were fathomless, dark quarries. He had a stone heart that showed no pity and no remorse, intent only on the kill. He bared his teeth like a predator sensing its prey, sniffing the air as if devouring her scent, relishing the moment when he could drink her blood in a drug cocktail.
Distracted by the daughter of Kayne, Marcellus failed to notice Varya’s recovery. This time when Varya lashed out, she kneed him in the groin, followed up by a kick to the left femur. Marcellus released her with a howl.
“Let’s just say, we disappoint each other, but I’m more than happy to disappoint you,” Varya taunted her opponent. Flourishing her dagger, she struck at his stomach and twisted upward. “You’re right. Let’s finish this.”
Chapter 16
“For Vlad’s sake, Aislinn, stay still,” muttered Benjamin, working at the restraints.
“Then hurry up,” she insisted, craning her neck to see Stanislav and Varya under assault and needing her assistance, ignoring the pain the pronged needles caused as they dug deeper under the flesh from her agitated movements. But she was in no condition to help them yet, even without the immense blood loss.
Nikolaus paid particular attention to the injuries on her forearms, her neck, and her face. Blood streamed from the reopened wounds on her chest, arms, and thighs as they removed the barbed chains. When the restraints were finally off and the last spike was extracted from her right thigh, Aislinn struggled to sit up.
“Aislinn, please,” Nikolaus begged with quiet intensity, trying to push her back down on the table. “Hold still. We need to find a way to remove the pronged needles from your arteries without causing more damage and blood loss.”
“I don’t have time for that,” she grumbled, shaking her head which only caused her more pain and a sigh from Nik.
“Stop it. You’re not thinking clearly.” Good advice. Her neck hurt. She felt dizzy and nauseated. “You won’t have time at all if you don’t let me do this slowly because you’ll be dead.”
“Fine. Just do it.”
“Vlad’s nuts, she’s a pain in the ass,” exclaimed Benjamin to the young medic, readying himself to do battle as another blast was set off and more rubble fell from the ceiling, coating them in dusty gray powder. “Exactly what do you see in her? No amount of great sex is worth dealing with her angst.”
“So eloquently put, Beefcake,” she fired back at Benjamin, who gave a seraphic grin in return. “Angst? You haven’t seen anything yet. Just go make yourself useful.”
“Yes, ma’am,” a dust-covered Benjamin said with a salute and rushed off into the fray.
The bloody holes where the spikes had been embedded into her muscles had healed over, but the full-pronged needles remained. Nikolaus looked down at them as if they were fishhooks and she was the fish.
“How about I just yank them out?” she offered.
“Just give me a minute,” he said, looking at her sharply, dumbstruck for a second that she would even suggest such a crazy thing.
“I can’t exactly leave them in there. I look like a marionette doll with these tubes coming out of my arms.”
“Like I said, just—Oh fuck!” He never got to finish his sentence as Aislinn tore the bloodletting needle out of her left forearm. Bloody tissue was attached to the end of the prong as she ripped it out in one brutal motion, looking like a tiny alien embryo bursting out of its host’s sternum.
“It’s just like pulling out a tooth.”
“That’s barbaric. Dentists are butchers.” Nikolaus took the hypodermic needle from her hand with a pair of tweezers and crushed it under the heel of his boot in a single, swift motion. “Let me see your arm. I mean it, Aislinn. I’m not letting you rip out another pronged needle without checking that you’re able to heal.”
“You won’t let me?” Her tone was dangerous, like a rattlesnake readying to strike.
“Stop talking,” he warned her. “And hold out your arm. Keep it steady. Could you have done a better job of messing up your arm?”
Right. Like that was my plan. I think I’m going to punch your pretty face with my other arm.
Because she’d lost so much blood, the process of knitting together sinew and muscle was slower than normal, not the instant snap-of-the-fingers et voilà she was used to. But it did eventually heal. And every moment it took made Aislinn a little more angsty as she saw the chaos and carnage around her.
She watched as Stanislav was crippled, down on his hands and knees before the dark mage, blood splattering from his face to the floor in a shower of crimson. His lifeforce.
Varya was being pummeled. Marcellus’s fists were using her friend as a punching bag. His movements were so fast, they were a blur. Varya couldn’t even predict where they might land to block the blow. Disgusted, he flung her limp body from the train platform to the empty berth below where they once housed the steam trains. But the trained fighter refused to go down without a fight. Rolling onto her stomach, she pushed herself up as Marcellus jumped down into the pit to join her. He slammed a boot into her neck, stamping down hard, crushing her cheek against the track.
There were some wins. Zhenya and Benjamin had the upper hand. Stanislav’s men were holding their own against Marcellus’s guards.
But the enemy had an unfair advantage. Dark magic.
“Satisfied?” Aislinn asked, not waiting for an answer as she tore out the second pronged needle from her other forearm.
“For Vlad’s sake, Aislinn, let me at least take out the IV drip first.”
“No, wait. Leave it. I have plans for that.” Her brain was still playing hopscotch, but she pushed back the dizziness that hovered at the edges. “Just help me get rid of these tubes in my neck.”
Nikolaus’s hands stilled over the IV drip. He looked at Aislinn as if to confirm what he’d heard. Then sighing, he moved onto the tubes at the neck. “You’re sure you want me to do this?”
“Just get them out, Nik.”
The athletic, young Malum who oversaw the Blood Bank was much gentler than Aislinn had been. He could see the tiny pronged hooks embedded in the inflamed, puckered flesh surrounding her carotid artery as he lightly tugged. She winced. And then his practiced hands held the first tube, pinched between the tines of the tweezers.
In no time at all, he had the other.
“Thanks a million.” She immediately made to leap off the table, but Nikolaus stopped her.
“Not yet,” he cautioned. “You need a transfusion.”
“No time.”
“Without a transfusion, you’ll be growing weaker by the second.” Solid, dependable Nik. So intensely focused—and sexy with his high cheekbones, straight nose, and square jawline. He may have been a vampire, but he had a nice bedside manner.
“Then you know that I need to feed,” Aislinn said firmly. “It goes straight into the blood and brain.”
Nikolaus hesitated, as if considering the wisdom of his next move. Then wordlessly, he rolled back the sleeve to expose his right forearm and raised it to his mouth. The sharp incisors extended as he slashed the inside of his wrist, cutting easily through the flesh in a ragged incision. His blood began to flow.
He quickly stretched out the arm until the bloody gash was in front of Aislinn’s mouth. “Drink. It doesn’t mean we’re engaged or anything.”
She gave a short laugh, but in the next instant, the scent of his blood overwhelmed her. Her tongue lapped at the torn flesh, teasing the gash in the skin wider. Then she fastened her teeth upon it, sinking in deeply. Releasing a sigh of satisfaction, she drew long and hard against Nik’s vein, extracting fresh, life-giving blood.
Unlike human blood, Nik’s blood was rich with instant energy and higher in leukocytes, the white blood cells for defense and immunity, counteracting the loss of her own blo
od like a sugar rush. But she was conscious not to drink too much. Even though such a small amount wouldn’t drive her batshit crazy, vampires were forbidden from cannibalizing their own kind due to the long-term corrupting effects. Besides, Aislinn preferred not to drink from a vampire after her turning by Kayne, but there were always mitigating circumstances when an instant hit was needed.
There was something rather erotic in drinking another vampire’s blood. It was often part of foreplay when they had sex, an ancient mating ritual, exchanging the most intimate of bodily fluids. Luckily for Aislinn, the deep blush which colored her cheeks could be blamed on the kick of energy to her system as she could already feel the zing of Nik’s blood flowing through her veins, repairing the damage caused by the dark mage and his magic.
She wiped the back of her hand across her lips in an unconsciously sensual gesture. Nik tracked the movement like a hawk, his blue-gray eyes darkening like the onset of a storm. Embarrassed, Aislinn let her hand fall to her lap.
“I didn’t know you were left-handed,” she said, trying to defuse the tension.
“It’s not surprising. There’s a lot of things about me you don’t know.” The deep timbre of his voice was seductive, even with the cacophony of fighting in the background.
She wondered if she was feeling hot because of the dark magic or Nik’s blood warming her chilled limbs or for some other reason. She didn’t have to be reminded that it wasn’t the time to think about it now.
A great shower of sparks resulted in agonizing cries as a thrown dagger clashed into the brick wall and went bouncing and skittering along the concrete platform. Its owner, one of Stanislav’s men who had acted on orders to save his boss, was eviscerated by the dark mage and left to squirm in pain on the floor. But Stanislav was still alive.
