A Wicked Night (Creatures of Darkness 2): A Coraline Conwell Novel (14 page)

One last time, she tilted the tray and the scalpel rolled toward her. As soon as she palmed the handle, voices drifted from outside the room.

Her mind reeled, and then her hand jumped into action.

Twirling the knife-end toward her straps, she began slicing. The first few cuts were arduous, the angle she had to work with awkward. The leather refused to give more than a few tiny scores in its hide, but she continued to work, yanking the blade in gawky movements. Soon scores turned to gouges, gouges to a unified slit. Already her hand was growing tired and cramped, but she would not allow herself to pause for a second.

The voices came nearer.

Another slice, another thrumming heartbeat pounding in her ear, escalating the adrenaline that urged her on, even though part of her already recognized she wasn’t going to make it.

Halfway through!

“What the…?” The doctor paused in the doorway, surveying the scattered instruments with unhindered bemusement. Then his gaze darted to the scalpel in her fist.

Muddled by desperation, she twirled the handle and gripped it as if it were a weapon—as if she could jump up and use it against him!

His expression blazed with fury. Two aggressive steps brought him to her side. With pathetic ease, he ripped the scalpel from her grasp and then leaned over her, bringing the small blade close to her face, just below the outer corner of her right eye. “I don’t fancy my patients trying to escape.”

Where the cool metal tip touched her skin, a bead of liquid welled.

She swallowed a gasp. Everything in her stumbled to a halt, becoming as still as stone.

“The master doesn’t need you pretty,” he threatened. “I can do what I want to you as long as you’re alive when I’m through. Remember that, because if you try anything like this again, I’m going to pluck out your eyes and make you wear them around your neck. I wonder if you’d heal from that, hmm?”

A quiver of dread rumbled through her at the gruesome visual.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t,” an unfamiliar baritone voice remarked from the doorway.

The doctor retreated, lowering his weapon.

The tall newcomer was dressed to the nines, as Winston would have said. He appeared as though on his way to a fund raiser rather than a visit to a dungeon. His shoulder-length hair was so black it boasted little to no definition, even in the light. His irises, too, were jet black, merging seamlessly with his pupils, making them look like bottomless pools that eroded away any color that dared encroach. He wore a dark sport coat layered over a black shirt tucked into matching slacks. It was as if he’d woken this morning and declared war on color.

She didn’t know why she did it, maybe exhaustion and extended hours of torture was making her delusional, but she snorted out a caustic laugh.

It was the cape draped over his shoulders, reaching to the ground down his back.

She giggled again, unable to stop herself. She was surely going mad. Or maybe she was losing her ability to care what they did to her. “Who wears a cape?” She chortled.

He entered the room with a causality that spoke of stoic propensity. To Cora, that made him even more terrifying than the doctor. He obviously thought nothing of seeing a woman strapped down and threatened at knife point.

Her laughter cut off as a thread of sanity slapped her in the face.

Though he wasn’t outwardly responding to her mocking, she instinctively understood that this man was not to be laughed at. Not if one hoped to keep one’s life. Which she still did.

His obsidian gaze bore into her, taking in her features with a tilt of his head.

She shuddered, momentarily sinking into the twin abysses that threatened to suck her down into their murky depths forever.

Near the edge of her subconscious came a feather light touch. A brush of…something she couldn’t describe, had never felt, but instantly feared.

Oh no.
Was he attempting to compel her?

After another harrowing moment, his mouth curled up. She noticed two sharp points peeking out from under his lips.

She had suspected what he was from the moment she’d caught sight him, but seeing the evidence solidified her doom.

The vampire raised his hand to her cheek, extending his finger to lightly swipe the flesh near her eye where the doctor had pierced her. His finger came away with a drop of red. Without hesitation, he brought that drop to his lips.

She made no indication that she was shocked or frightened. In fact, this was more familiar territory than her hazy experiences with the doctor.

However, when her mind endeavored to close in on itself, to escape the anticipated terror to come, she fought it. Mace had warned her of the dangers of becoming too docile around a vampire. Sure, it might put them at ease, and keep them from getting riled, but it could also draw out a predator’s nature. A viper to a wounded rat. Or more aptly, a crazed vampire to a frightened girl.

She squared her shoulders as best she could in her position and met his gaze. “If you don’t let me go, the VEA will be all over your asses.”

The two shared an amused glance.

“If the VEA were coming for you,” the vampire replied smoothly, “they would have been here already. After three weeks, they’re either at a dead end, or they’re not even looking. I’m inclined to believe the latter.”

Three weeks? Oh, goddess, Mason! Please be okay.

The vampire continued. “Especially when my connections have not mentioned a word of your absence.”

Not a word?
What could that mean? Was Mace not looking? Had Knox and Trent convinced him to leave her for dead, hoping their bond would be severed without them having to interfere?

Would he be relieved if it were?

She bit back a wave of emotion.

When she gazed back at the vampire, a memory played along the fringe of her mind. The way he looked at her now was so familiar, like she was pivotal to him in some way.

“I know you,” she blurted. It wasn’t like with Devon, where she got a deja vu kind of recollection. This man she had actually seen up close and personal. She had tugged on his long dark hair…and marveled at his pointy teeth? However, she couldn’t grasp hold of the memory before it slipped through the cracks of her mind and she returned to her original premise that she was going insane.

The man’s expression turned pleased. “Miraculous that you remember, if you in fact do.”

“I don’t know what I remember. I just feel like I’ve seen you before.”

He took another moment to study her. “My sources also tell me that your magic has been bound.” He paused. “That is both convenient and inconvenient.”

What did he mean by that? And who was this source of his? The only people who had connections to the VEA and were aware of her predicament were Mace, Knox, and Trent. Had Mace bothered to inform Trent of the unbinding spell performed by Saraphine? If not, there was a good chance he was in bed with the very people he claimed to be hunting.

“Tell me, young one—”

Even that epithet was familiar.

“—are you a
lurela
, like your mother before you?”

She stared at him blankly, unable to reconcile his statement. She didn’t know her mother, not really. Whether because of the binding spell or her young age, she hadn’t retained much about either of her parents, let alone if they could block a vampire’s compulsion.

Then his phrasing caught up with her.

“You knew my mother?”

Sara grasped the letter, flourished by delicate script, in her fists and ripped it in half.

Two weeks?

How could they fathom waiting another two whole weeks to convene?

She cursed and crumpled up each half of the parchment as she headed into the back room of Wicked Wares.

Of all the coven leaders to have replied to her request…and like this? With such an air of indifference? Sara had not expected such callousness from Audrey. The spry old witch had been among her favorites.

She mentally ran through the note’s finer points: …
not of immediate importance…currently more pressing matters on the agenda…and the ever repetitive, Edeena will be missed by all
. The only part that gave Sara any hope was the last, where Audrey encouraged her to remain vigilant until they could arrive in person to address the accused.

Sara ran impatient fingers through her hair. Hadn’t they read the section of her summons where she mentioned time sensitivity and holding not one, but
two
vampires prisoner in her cellar?

Mace’s phone buzzed on the counter. There was another message from a guy named Trent who had recently started contacting Mace about some job. VEA business, she deduced. The VEA were like the police of the vampire nation. They investigated crimes connected to vampires—and Mace was a bona fide agent!
Way to pick your battles, Sara.

This newest text read
:
Anything new?

Sara typed back
:
Nothing yet. Will let u kno
w
.

She tried to be as vague as possible when responding. And she
had
to respond. She couldn’t risk this Trent person getting suspicious by Mace’s absence and setting out to find him.

The very first text Trent sent had put Sara on edge
:
Back from checking out Rickmond. Man’s clean. Left Rolo to stake out just in case. Who’s next
?

She’d stared at it for a full hour before braving a response
:
Was Sure about Rickmond. Were u thorough?

Do u not know me?

Her heart had slammed at that
.
Just think he’s hiding something is all
.
Dble ck.

Then she’d started to sweat. It had taken a heart-wrenching thirty minutes before she received a reply
.
Alright. Will do. Keep looking thru those name
s
.

K.

After hitting send, she’d slapped a hand on her forehead. Did vampires text things like
kay?
But it seemed to have postponed further correspondence for a few days.

She set the phone back down.

Time to feed the vampires.

She’d been putting it off, not wanting to subject herself to their manipulation and guilt mongering. So far, she’d done little more than poke her head downstairs to check on them, but she couldn’t continue to starve them. How often did vampires need to eat, anyway?

The last time she had peeked in was a few days ago. Mace had been sleeping, and Knox had been seated with his back against the wall. They had looked well enough.

Then Knox had given her a glower of such menacing reproach that she’d hurried back up the stairs without a word spoken.

Even locked up, he scared the shit out of her.

Steeling her resolve, she retrieved two bags of blood from the cooler where she’d been storing them over the last couple of days and headed down into the cellar.

Mace was once more asleep, curled on the floor, and Knox was in his typical position, seated against the wall, his head tipped down, eyes closed. However, at her entrance, his gaze flashed her way, halting her with his palpable ferocity. She raised her chin and tossed a bag through the bars at his feet, not daring to get too close. He wouldn’t be able to compel her, she was immune to vampire compulsion, but he could use his speed to rush the bars and grab her by the throat, were she in reach.

He glanced at the blood bag, then back at her. “Where’d you get that?”

“Our local clinic isn’t exactly a high security establishment. Thought you’d have known that.”

“I like my food fresh and warm, straight from the source.”

“We humans love to be referred to as food.”

He made no move toward the waiting bag. “You think that will do anything for me?”

“It’s blood. Murderers don’t get the luxury of being choosy.”

“That tune’s getting old,
cher
. Try a different note.”

“I will once you’ve been convicted. My coven will be here any day now to take you into custody.” Not exactly a lie.

Knox gave a knowing grin. “What’s the delay? Thought by now I’d have been tossed into a river to see if I float.”

“Is that supposed to be funny because I’m a witch?”

“No.” He shook his head “It’s supposed to be funny because you’re acting as daft as those Puritans were, believing whatever you want without proof.”

She scoffed and turned to Mace, calling his name. She wouldn’t toss in the other bag till he woke, fearing Knox would bogart both.

“Mace,” she repeated when he didn’t stir. Then again, louder.

“Good luck,” Knox said. “Man’s been out for two days straight.”

“What? Why?”

Knox shrugged. “Cursed, I supposed. Dying, maybe. Unless you’re magnanimous enough to do something about it.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “This is a trick, isn’t it? He fakes being ill, I come in there to check on him, whereby you jump me.”

“Just because I believe you’re crazy, doesn’t mean I think you’re stupid. Smart thing that, being ready for us when you were. Took some planning, no?”

She jerked her chin toward Mace. “Wake him.”

Knox ignored her. “Come up with that plan on your own, did you? Right brilliant. Convenient timing, too, I’d say.”

She rolled her neck in irritation. “Convenient for whom?”

“For that wanker who kidnapped Cora, of course.”

Yet another deception. Although, it was rather suspicious that Cora hadn’t shown up looking for Mace yet. But then, maybe she had smartened up and bolted away from these two fiends.

Or maybe she really is in trouble
, her mind supplied.

“Been thinking about it,” Knox continued, “with all this free time I have. That boy you had googly eyes over, checking our each other’s naughty bits and such—”

Sara scoffed. “I did not have googly eyes, and there was no naughty-bit checking.”

“—Mace said that boy’d been in the middle of seducing you at that restaurant, and by the looks of you, he’d been pretty damn close. He probably asked questions about us, too. About Cora? Threw them in to the conversation all nonchalant-like. Maybe planted this little coup in your head. Could have been watching you for some time. Figured we’d come to you for help if she up and went missing. Also probably figured out you’d do anything prosecute me. Built your confidence that this flimflam would work in your favor. Then he most likely trailed Mace from the restaurant back to the cottage.”

“That’s ridiculous. He’s not like that.”

“Oh? You know him so well already?”

She pursed her lips.

“You two BFFs? Made bracelets for each other and everything? Is he up there right now, awaiting your return so that together you can revel in having gotten one over on us big bad vampires?”

Irked, she glanced away.

Knox made an
ah-ha
noise. “So he’s
not
up there? But I suppose you have plans, then, to meet up with him later? No again?”

She clenched her fists. What was he, a mind reader?

“Why, I bet you haven’t seen him in weeks. Three, to be exact.” He rose unsteadily—
because he is weak?
Or was he faking it?

He crossed to lean his chest against the bars as if for support. The way Sara had concocted the spell, the bars would only electrify if someone was attempting to break through them so that if she needed to open the doors, her own spell wouldn’t shock her. But right now, she was regretting that little stipulation. With his arms twining around a bar on each side of him, Knox looked too relaxed for his current circumstance. She suspected he was just trying to piss her off with his cavalier show. And it was mother friggin’ working.

“What’s your point?” she drawled.

“You’ve been used,
cher
. Manipulated. Tricked. Outsmarted…by the man. He got you to do his dirty work while he escaped with the prize.”

“He’s not like that,” she repeated with a little less vigor.

“’Course not. What’s he like, then?” he folded his hands under his chin, imitating a girlish pose.

She didn’t believe for a moment Devon could be as callous as Knox was suggesting. In Knox’s messed up mind, that was probably how everyone operated—inclined to use others without thought or consideration. Sure, Devon had left her hanging that night, bud he’d had a good excuse.

Maybe his boss had needed him. For most, good work was hard to come by these days. If she hadn’t inherited this shop, she’d cut and run for a gig that paid half as much as she earned now. Hadn’t he acted like he just received urgent news…right after Mace had shown up at the restaurant? Didn’t mean he was a kidnapper.

But then, just hypothetically, why should she care if Devon had used her to get what he wanted? Cora was nothing to her, and Sara had gotten what
she
wanted—one Knox, locked up tight. Big whoop if Devon had used her to his advantage…

Not that she believed he had.

No. There was another reason for his absence. Cora’s too. She just had to think of one.

“He’s a nice guy,” she finally replied. “Something you’d know nothing about.”

“I might not know nice, but I know ruthless. Your boy Devon is as ruthless as they come.”

“I’m sure you think everyone is like that.

“Not everyone. Not you. You play ruthless like a broken instrument. Every time I mention Cora, I see guilt in your eyes. Every time I mention that boy, I see anger, hurt, and even a hint lust.”

She flushed.

“You’re soft, weak, pretending otherwise. You’re in over your head.”

“I am not!”

“You might not be able to do much about Cora’s fate—that’s just something your bleeding heart will have to live with—but you won’t let Mace die. He’s done nothing to you. And, once Cora’s gone for good, which I don’t expect will be long now, you’ll owe him big time for facilitating the death of his beloved.”

“Oh, you think so?” She ignored a troubling slither of unease.

“I’m betting on it.”

“Well, you’re wrong…on everything. Everything you say is wrong.” She threw the remaining bag at him. “Here, have both for all I care.”

He caught it in midair and, as she raced back up the stairs, called, “Maybe I should reconsider my stance on your intelligence.”