Bloodlines (Demons of Oblivion) (29 page)

“Because you still have your free will, correct?” Sean said, sounding quite amused.

“And because this is such a lame idea,” I repeated. “There are only so many vampires in the world, and it takes a goddamn decade to make new ones. Why don’t you just summon demons like a normal evil person?”

“That is an excellent question,” Sean said. “Demons, you see, cause a disturbance in the walls between dimensions. When someone summons one forth, it’s as if there’s a huge beacon leading straight to the summoner. Hunters are becoming more and more sophisticated now, gaining better ways of tracking demons and the warlocks bringing them to this world, which poses great restrictions on how often one can use them.”

“My heart is breaking for you.”

“But vampires—”

“But big, scary, pissed off vamps don’t, and anyone can be made into one. I get it. It’s still stupid because as soon as you let one out of its cage, it’s going to get a human, feed, and the freaky-ass monster look will be over.”

“You should probably gag her,” Jamie told Sean. “Or else she’ll just keep interrupting you.”

“Not necessarily,” Sean continued as if Jamie hadn’t spoken. “During the past year, we’ve been fine tuning the experiment. The changing time varies from vampire to vampire, based loosely on age and the particular bloodline it originated from. The process can be reversible up to a certain point. Take Dragomir, for example. We’ve taken him to the brink, then fed him and brought him back again and again. As of only a week ago, this change was completely reversible. Now it’s not. Had he been only a century or so old, it might also be reversed. But not anymore. No matter how much he eats, this is what he will be until his death. It’s all very fascinating.”

“You were one of those stereotypical nerds in high school that everyone always make fun of, weren’t you?” I said, as if I hadn’t been listening. “Like The Trio on that TV show.”

“She’s still not impressed,” Jamie said.

“On to room nine, then,” Sean said. He motioned for me to take a look in the cell next to Dragomir’s.

Ilona, Dragomir’s only lover for at least half a millennia, was in number nine. Unlike her husband, she appeared just as I had seen her last, three centuries earlier. Her dark brown hair was swept back from her delicate face, her arms hugged her body as if she was cold, and she sat upon the only piece of furniture in the room: the single table that every cell had. They’d given her a pair of dark yoga pants as well, along with a tank top. She still looked frail—as she always had—but I knew that within those waif-like arms and slender body was enough power to snap a man in two. Ilona was as vicious a killer as any of us could be.

I stepped closer to the door, and Sean punched in something at the panel beside it, presumably switching off the one-way glass, for she suddenly looked up at me. She sprang from her seat and ran to the door, pressing her fingers to the pane.

“Ana?” Eyes searched mine, darting back and forth.

Part of me loathed them. They changed me, left me stuck in the mausoleum, locked me away after I murdered Pavel’s children...I deemed them the reason for so much of the hell in my unlife. If Dragomir just let me die when he killed me, maybe I would’ve had peace. I never would’ve known the man I loved paid to have me killed. Never would’ve lived three centuries still having nightmares of the dark place.

But my eyes burned with tears. Ilona was in so many ways my family, and the whole fucking situation was just
wrong
.

“So you have free will?” Sean stepped closer to me, but not so near that I could grab him in any way. “I suppose you know how much these two love each other. Jamie tells me he heard from Mr. Fields that they were together for a very long time.”

“Do you really have to preface whatever your point is with a five minute speech?” I snapped.

“Very well.” Sean stepped to the control panel once more. He pressed a button, and suddenly the wall between Dragomir and Ilona’s cells shot up into the ceiling, making their two prisons one.

“Dragomir,” Sean said into the intercom.

Dragomir looked around wildly, searching for the source of the voice.

“He still understands a bit of language,” Jamie whispered to me.

“Dragomir, you want to feed?”

The monstrosity that was once my maker flew to the door, pounding his fists so violently I swore even the floor shook.

“Kill her,” Sean commanded.

Ilona’s eyes got wide as Dragomir spotted her. She backed up as he stalked toward her.

“What the fuck did you do?” I shouted at Sean. “What did you do to him? He would never—”

“Why
wouldn’t
he attack her?” Sean returned. “Because he ‘chooses’ not to? Because he loves her? He hasn’t fed in months. He knows nothing but the hunger now.”

I watched in horror as Dragomir leaped at his beloved.

She tried. She tried
so
hard. Ilona shrieked, clawed, fought, tried to throw him off of her. But she was pale and starved, and in that state, he was too strong.

I slammed my shoulder into the door, shouting my frustration. “Get him off her!” I screamed, ramming my arm into the door again and again, no matter how it ached.

“
You
can give it a try,” Sean said, sliding a key into the lock beside the panel and turning it to the right. The door abruptly opened, sending me flying into the room, then it shut behind me.

There I was, hands and legs bound, and on the floor in front of a very pissed off looking vampire-monster.

Shit.

Chapter Thirty

Free Will

Dragomir was crouched over Ilona’s unmoving body. He looked up at me, blood dripping from his mouth and streaking down his chin.

He snarled.

Oh boy.
I slowly pulled myself into a crouch, then eased to a stand. “Dragomir...”

He growled in response.

“It’s me, Ana.” I swore I heard laughter in the hallway outside the cell, and really, I couldn’t blame them. Dragomir had no idea who I was. If he did, he didn’t care.

“Okay, so you don’t know me,” I said. “I don’t give a fuck—get the hell away from her.”

He started to stand, then stopped. Keeping in a half-crouch, a low growl rumbled from his throat, seeming to thrum the air around us.

My body tensed in preparation for the attack. Though I was certain his speed had increased, I was quite a bit smaller in comparison, which just might mean I had agility on my side. Of course the shackles on my arms and legs impeded me more than a little.

I jumped up—keeping my body still but bending my legs so my knees came to my chest—and swung my bound wrists in an arc under me just before my feet returned to the ground. A very Jet Li move. I wasn’t sure if that would really help the situation, but I preferred my arms to be at my front rather than my back.

Dragomir must have perceived the movement as a threat, for he let out a deep bellow of anger and charged at me.

I dove out of the way; he anticipated me. With one swat, the back of his hand connected with my shoulder and flung me across the room. My legs tied, I could do little to correct myself midair. I landed on my side on the cold tile.

My legs were rubbery beneath me, head still pounded with the after effects of the sedative. He snatched me up by my shoulder and lifted me high off the ground. Long nails dug deep into my flesh, drawing blood.

I grabbed the arm that held me and swung my legs to hit him square in the chest as hard as I could.

Not only didn’t he release me, but he barely even staggered. And
my
muscles ached after the movement.

Not an encouraging development.

He swiped at me with his free hand, claws slashing across my cheek. Blood ran, snaking down my face, stinking of copper and salty on my lips.

His eyes widened, focused on the blood. He didn’t care if I was human or not: he just wanted to feed. My throat was as good as any.

I let my fangs grow, then I bit down on his hand, twisting and tearing through the flesh. I tasted no blood—his body had been emptied of it. Instead, the tissue was dry and flavourless, like ash in my mouth. A strong reminder of what I didn’t want to become.

Enraged, Dragomir threw me against the table and let out a roar. I landed hard, bruises blooming, ribs cracking. I rolled onto the floor, seized the table leg, and flung the whole thing against the wall with enough force to break it back into its original pieces. Screws and bolts scattered across the floor.

Dragomir bolted in my direction.

I threw the table leg.

The makeshift stake struck his heart; he slumped to the ground.

Well,
at
least
I
know
a
standard
stake
will
slow
them
down
. Maybe wood wouldn’t, but metal. Metal I could find, in case I had to fight more. He still lived, though. His head would have to be taken off to kill him, but the stake would keep him from rising.

I turned to Ilona, who hadn’t moved from the spot on the floor where her former lover had left her. Her throat was torn right open, the wound so deep that the stark white bone of her spine peeked through the gore.

A sad, human-like breath left me in a defeated sigh.

“Ana,” she whispered.

I knelt next to her. Cold blood seeped into the knees of my jeans.

“Miss Lain,” Sean said as the door slid open. “You did a very fine job dispatching of Dragomir, though you should know that of course I would not allow you, nor his missus, to be permanently harmed. You’re all far more useful to me alive.”

He was so fucking dead. I didn’t know when, didn’t know how, but I’d kill him.

I kept my attention on Ilona. Her dark eyes were glassy. Skin went pale as blood pooled on the floor around her. “I do not wish to become that,” she said softly, slipping into Romanian. I hadn’t heard my native tongue in years, didn’t think I could speak it, but caught the meaning of her words. “Ana...do not let me become one.”

Behind us, several men came into the room. They scooped up Dragomir and returned him to his cell. I paid them no notice as they looked over Ilona, then returned to Sean to make their findings known.

“Her neck is badly torn, sir, but she’ll live,” one of them said. “She has lost a good portion of her blood.”

“Well then, she’ll be ready for the change,” Sean replied.

“Ana, please,” Ilona whispered. Tears formed in her dark eyes, then pooled down the sides of her cheeks to hit the floor.

I understood. Understood what she asked me for. Understood her reasons for it. Sean was right; we didn’t have any other choice. We weren’t getting out and my allies were dead. The only people who would dare track down someone like Sean were Hunters, and they would kill us all in the process. Energy drained from me; my shoulders sank, head dropped. We weren’t going to win.

I nodded and she started to smile.

“Thank you, child.” Her eyes closed.

I placed my hands on either side of her skull. Felt silky hair and smooth skin beneath my fingers. With a sudden twist, I wrenched her head free from the last bits of muscle, flesh, and remaining bones that attached it to her body.

And Ilona was dead.

Dragomir gave out an anguished howl in the other room, as if somehow he felt her passing. Enough of his true self was left to allow him to mourn the death of his love, but, so help me, he’d be joining her if I ever got the chance to kill him.

“Come now, Zara,” Sean called. “We really ought to return you to your room.”

I stood, keeping Ilona’s head clutched in my hands. As I turned, I flung the skull at him and it struck him in the chest. Anger blazed in my eyes, daring any one of the other people there to come near me.

“Looks like Ilona is AWOL.” I didn’t fucking care if they saw the tears rushing down my cheeks. If they thought me weak. A joke. “I guess you’re down one recruit.”

Sean looked down at the bloody mess on his designer suit, then at the vampire’s head. He gave it a swift kick back into the room, straightened his collar, and gazed at me, uncaring. “We now have you to make up for it. Put her back in her cell.”

His guards—whose numbers had doubled to six—came in and surrounded me. They braced themselves for a fight, but two of them had Tasers, the others still had guns and stakes, and I was pretty sure that if I had a chance to break free, now wasn’t my moment. I went willingly from the room, crossed the expansive hallway, and returned to my cell.

Sean entered the room after me. “You ought to lie down.”

I walked to the table and leaned against the edge. “I kinda feel like standing.”

With a few muttered words from Sean, my back shot down onto the table. Struggle as I may, my body remained frozen under the spell, and I could only watch as the warlock strolled over and released the heavy shackles from my wrists and ankles. From there, he pinned each limb down with a set of thick metal cuffs attached to the table. He re-buckled the three straps across my chest, stomach, and lower legs. As the spell wore off, I yanked and twisted, but it was no use. My arms, legs, and torso were each strapped down too tightly for me to move any more than half an inch, and could do nothing as he brought out a pair of surgical scissors and sliced at my clothes.

Chilly air touched my skin and I squirmed. “You know, if you’re going to starve me, the least you could do is let me wander around my prison a bit.”

“The blood in your body will keep you in your normal state an extra couple of months,” Sean said. “I’m done with experiments—I need my army ready now. Since you’re of Dragomir’s bloodline, it shouldn’t take long.”

Jamie came in then, wheeling a machine with several long, skinny tubes running into it. He pulled off my boots and socks while Sean slid off the last of my clothes, then two men took the free ends of the pipes and drove them into the veins of my arms, legs, and even my throat.

Agony burned as Sean flipped the machine on and blood pumped from my body.