Breach (The Blood Bargain) (29 page)

I replied with only with a grin. I didn't care if the girl face planted every ten steps as long as she got us in.  "Think Candice is okay?"

"I'm sure. This place isn't on alert far as I can tell. Which leads me to believe she broke that murdering sonofabitch in half."

In the hallway outside the surgical bay heavy footfalls thudded quickly in our direction. Panic washed over me as I played out the source of the sound in my mind.
Rylie just had to have said everything was fine, just had to. Shifting my feet, I readied myself for an attack. Perhaps whomever it was we could get a drop on, give us an advantage to-

Four teenage boys with dirt covered work pants walked by, roughhousing.
Rylie laughed as I cursed.

"A bit tense?"

"Aren't you?"

"Should I be? These are civilians,
complacent
civilians. Try marching through the mountains of Afghanistan." 

I couldn't even imagine what that had to be like. Sure I'd seen my share of war movies before the outbreak but living it was an entirely different story.  "Yeah I bet." I muttered.

"What were you...like ten when the outbreak hit?"

"Try fourteen."

He laughed, a hint of his Cajun accent carrying through. "Baby gurl."

"Old ass flabby fart." I countered, leaning back against the wall. He mocked offense at me calling him flabby. We both new damned well there wasn't an inch of flab on him, but it was I could come up with. Giving
Rylie a hard time made me wonder what Cole was up to. I could see him strolling about along the wall, frowning about nothing and everything. In an odd realization it occurred to me that I hadn't thought about him at all in the last few days. Not when I had been taken into captivity, not when I was falling asleep or bored in the car. Not once had his name or his-admittedly handsome-face crossed my mind. When they speak of true love, in books, movies, songs, its always at an obsessive level. You breathe, see, feel that person entirely. Cole...I guess it wasn't...as much as it pained me to think of. Don't get me wrong, I wished him safety. Now that I had thought of him I wondered what he was up to, but that was the same way I felt about Zoe or my Dad. There was no pain in my chest for him, no yearning, no wistful daydreams. All I could think of was-
Dimitri

I closed my eyes, just for a moment. He was close. The buzzing told me so. Soon we would be reunited and-
Stop that
, I told myself,
only reuniting you're doing is your fist to his devious mouth for tricking you into drinking that damnedable wine
.
End of.
To take my mind off my brooding I listened in on the Lake City native's happy reunion. Russ was talking excitedly to China, his hands moving in quick gestures. "I managed to get my hands on a few choice munitions, if you need them-or me-just say so. I have no problem putting my life on the line to get rid of those bastards."

"Much appreciated, but I'd prefer if you lived Russ."

"China Lynne Kane I am just an old man without a purpose these days."

Her face instantly flushed. "Hey don't call me-"

"I'm your godfather I'll do as I damned please missy." He let out a hearty laugh, clapping a dirty hand on her shoulder. "Seriously, if you need-"

"Okay here we go."
Lex was back with a large serving cart loaded with five covered plates. Her cheeks were flushed, breathing labored as though she had just run a great distance. Carefully, she divvied them up between us. "Walk slowly, don't spill. When we get in the tower, don't look the vampires in the eye, keep your gaze down and your shoulders hunched. We are lowly depressed servants and all that okay?"

"Yeah...I remember." China wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Be safe. Watch your six." Rylie more ordered than asked. With one last look over my shoulder at the overly concerned ex-army officer, I followed China and Lex out of the room down the corridor. There were no guards, or other impediments between the herbarium and the service elevator. Lex explained quite candidly that the vamps had no need. Everything was keycard based and those who resided here were too afraid to try anything to begin with. They kept to their lot in life, grateful to not be out amongst the throngs of dead below.

The light grey metal doors of the service elevator revealed nothing impressive, just a small steel box with a flickering overhead light on the right side, the left side was burnt out. After we all piled in,
Lex pressed the five button. Gears clicked and whirred as we ascended. The small overhead indicator progressing from two to five. After a slight jostling of the elevator car, the doors opened to a lobby with pastel furniture arrangements straight from the nineteen eighties and an overhead sign that read Oncology with indicator arrows. Nothing screamed vampire nest ahead. Which to me, was far more unsettling than black candelabras, red curtains and some hunchbacked minion playing an organ in the corner.

"Follow me."
Lex whispered, walking directly across the space to the wide medical door past the reception desk. She slid the keycard through the reader, the small indicator light flashing from red to green. An audible click began the mechanics, the wide doors opening to reveal a long hallway lit by only emergency lighting. Two figures emerged from the shadows.

"Welcome outsiders." The taller one spoke slowly, a wicked grin spreading over his face while the shorter one let out a high pitched manic laugh. Vampires.

"I'm sorry." Lex whispered behind us, stepping back quickly.

"You little-" China whirled around screaming, the loud bang of a gun resonated to my left, then everything went black.

The telltale click of heels resonating from my own step as I moved forward in the shifting hall, echoing in an endless corridor of darkness. Broken music flowed all around me, its orchestrator unseen. A violin, out of tune. No, it was playing in reverse. Maybe both. Picking up the evergreen waves of my skirting I ran faster, I was late. There were waiting. No, following me. Faceless forms that made no sound stood behind me, unmoving yet always close no matter my speed. Growing weak I stumbled forward, my breathing hindered from the corset too tight around my ribcage. Jeweled necklace too heavy a tether rather than adornment around my throat. Tightening. Eyes wide I stopped, tearing at the choker at my throat. The pain, the-

"More wine?" I wasn't alone. Seated in opulent dining hall, my hands slowly lowered from my throat. Pins digging into my scalp, the weight of a heavy comb at the crown of my skull. Across from me a familiar form was seated, the ice blue of his eyes appeared to melt and shift in the candlelight. His face both handsome and demonic in
tandem. Oh how I had missed him, it seemed like only yesterday when he had left.

"I'm sorry-what?" Judging faces of nobility seemed to whisper my words to each other from behind gilded portraits on the wall. The reverberating echoes a serpents hiss as their perfect visages stared at me. In the corner to my left by the draperies a lovely blonde woman in a pale pink ball gown conversed with two male suitors in full livery. Her flirtatious laugh overplayed, drowning out the music.

"Would you like some more wine darling one?" Not waiting for my answer, a faceless butler scooped up the crystal goblet that lay before me. The silver decanter tipped, burgundy liquid flowed forth carrying a hint of raspberry that wafted upwards. Licking my lips, I waited for the goblet to be placed back before me, stomach churning with insatiable hunger.

Thirst, the walls whispered to me. Fingers hidden under lace trim reached forth for the cup, wrapping around the cool crystal.
Drink...drink and thine hunger shall be sedated
the foul choir moaned, my shaking hand raising to my lips. Gold rim of the glass touching my bottom lip as I begun to tip it up. The smile of my dinner companion gave me pause. His teeth long, pointed, unnatural. The wine dripping from the corner of his mouth, coating his lips and-
...drink...
fangs. The cup no longer carried the scent of raspberries, but assaulted me with a metallic stench. Caught off guard, I dropped the goblet, the glass falling in slow motion before shattering on the table, throwing its dark contents all over the fine china and baroque table linens. The shattering sound echoed, spilled liquid seeming to grow and stretch across the cloth. The feast upon the table lay rotten, maggots crawled in and out of the roast, fruit flies scoured decaying strawberries. The candelabras dripped red fluids rather than ivory wax. The violin crescendo, the minstrel scouring the strings.

"Are you alright my love?" Taking a bite out of the brown twisted husk of a rotten apple with his bloody teeth. The paintings, their faces-twisted and mutilated-howled at me.
YOU WILL DRINK-

Running water. Birds. The dull mechanical hum of a ventilation system. Sounds stirred me from my unconscious that had little to do with my last known
surroundings. The air smelled sweetly, warm against my skin. Rejecting this impossible reality I lay perfectly still, my mind trying to place logic to these elements. There had been screams. I was certain China had gotten a shot off. I had been reaching for the knife I had tucked into my belt and then...nothing.

Perhaps I am dead
, I mused. Maybe that foul place was not a dream but purgatory. If I opened my eyes would I find the pearly gates before me? Was the soft material under my bare feet clouds of heaven? Bare feet...I had boots on before. Suddenly I found myself acutely aware of what parts of my skin were exposed to air and which were covered with cloth. Not the rough massed produced material of the hospital scrubs either, but a soft thin fabric that draped over me in waves. Someone had changed my clothes and I highly doubted it was the work of angels. I had been unconscious and someone had stripped me and put me in this get up. Revolution replaced the need for courage, my eyes flittered open, determined to find out what exactly had been done to me.

Too bright.
With a hiss, my lids clamped shut. Sharp pain speared from my left temple with such intensity I feared I may vomit. Through controlled breathing I fought it, telling myself that the room was not spinning.

"
Zài mōle yī bǎ nàhǎn." A male voice, barely audible in the distance. The presence of another was enough for me to battle through the pain. Opening my eyes I blinked rapidly, wishing my pupils would hurry up and dilate to the point where I could view more than blurry green splotches all around me.

"
Bǎ tā." A second voice, deeper, frustrated. My breathing staggered, sitting up I wiped at my watering eyes. A blob to my left slowly defined into a hibiscus plant. A bird cage housing three yellow finches hung from the stuffy office tiled ceiling. An indoor waterfall machine sat between two large bushes with wide deep green leaves. I had to have been on the upper floors of the high rise, there was nothing but endless blue visible from the wide window. Swinging my legs over the side of the old hospital bed I fully intended to get a better look out of that window. However, when my gaze landed on my feet I paused.

My toenails had been painted a deep purple. As had my fingernails. Jeans and other effects had been folded on the chair to the right of the bed.

This was not a jail I was familiar with. If it was a jail at all? Tugging at the hem of the knee length skirt, I worried at the other possibilities. My combat ready threads had been replaced with an oriental printed silk wrap dress. Thankfully much to my relief, my bra and panties had been left on. Sitting up straighter I caught my reflection in the mirror at the far end of the room. I was wearing makeup; heavy black lines circled my eyes, lips tinted red, way too much blush on my cheeks. Yuck. I made a mental plan; first I had to change and get this crap off of my face, then I needed to get out of-

The door burst open, in strode the short vampire from the ambush. He was of Asian
descent, classic dark hair cut just above his brow in the front, the back ends touching the collar of the obsidian dress shirt he wore under his crisp white suit. His facial features were flawless, perfectly proportioned to the point where he appeared as though someone had ripped him out of a CGI video game sequence.

Hovering at the lights edge his feet were planted just beyond the guest chair by the doorway. "Come with me."

"Screw you."

"I command you-"

"No one commands me." There was something about an unforeseen fate that made me obstinate. If he was going to kill me, he was going to kill me. No amount of begging or pleading would change that fact, so I saw no reason to be pleasant or subservient. Screw. Him.

White suit shifted his feet, clenching his jaw in
irritation. "Come here."

"Step into the light and we'll talk." I sneered at him. If he did in fact step forward he would be vulnerable. Not the phony burst into flames vulnerable, but mortal. Woundable. I could break the leg off the wooden chair perhaps, or hit him with one of the plant potters.

Licking his lips, he replied. "You will come with me. Now. Or I will kill your cohort." His flat uninterested tone reminded me of Antonia. Honestly, that scared me more than his words. The fact that he did not use plural nouns in that sentence gave me hope that Candice, Rylie and Ben were still undetected.

No wanting to insinuate there were others, I mocked worry. Widening my eyes, I gasped. "How do I know she is not already dead?"

"Mistrust is not a liberty available to you." So right that was. With a heavy heart, I followed my captor into the dark. The air changed, the sweet smell of my room replaced with stale disinfectant filled air. 

He bade me to walk in front of him, the linoleum floor cool under my bare feet. The chill carried through me, forcing me to shiver.

There were no windows in this traditional hospital hallway, just row upon row of rooms once intended to heal. Sounds emanated from behind closed doors as we walked along, a myriad of voices murmuring in various states from unbridled joy to horrific pain. To my left someone or something was methodically pounding against the wooden door the systematic reverberations sent a shiver down my spine, so akin to the methods used by the dead. They wouldn't dare keep deadheads up here...would they?

"Through here." With his arm level to his waist he gestured to the stairwell. Standing next to me I noticed not only did he wear far too much cologne but he had mismatched eyes. One was blue while the other was hazel.

"Where are we going?" I was not surprised when he didn't answer me. Like a statue he waited, following only when my feet consented to press on.

With each ascending step a dull hum grew under my skin. Misplaced anticipation that could only be associated with one thing.
Dimitri was close. At the stair landing there was a latter extending to a trap door indicating this was the top floor of the high-rise.

The plaque that hung on the wall read Dr. and Mrs. Weinstein memorial conference hall. Once upon a time the good doctor had probably shelled out a small fortune to construct this top floor upper class symposium for lectures-more likely fundraisers-on all sorts of subjects.  Unfortunately, behind the heavy oak doors nothing remained that would give an indication this space had ever served a productive purpose for mankind.

The massive conference hall had been transformed, transported to a different age. No, a different continent. Once lit by large overhead fluorescents, the space was now only illuminated by candlelight in sharp contrast to the human tower. All of the conference furniture had been emptied from the space. Red silk draperies had been hung from the ceiling like cascading ribbons leading to the gold trimmed throne built several steps up from the floor on a wide platform. Cloth banners hung in deep umber on either side of the seat, decorated in mandarin calligraphy. Every outer wall in the hall was hidden behind large bolts of cloth, some covered with gold framed paintings of a variety of scenes; battles, mothers and children, dragons. Two large gold sensors carried peaceful jasmine into the air, I wondered briefly if it was to mask the smell of the recently deceased caged in the front right corner by the entryway. Three deadheads-all female and none over the age of fifteen-moaned and rattled about inside a cage meant for large dogs. None of the living in the space seemed to pay them mind, human girls-with heavily marred necks-in dresses much like mine wandered about the hall watering plants, dusting and primping the three scantily dressed vampiric females-all of Asian descent with supermodel quality beauty-that lounged on the large bed behind the throne. One of the humans played a erhu softly, seated on the floor just to the left of the bed. It was a nest, a full-fledged vampire nest and at the center of it all sat an Asian man cross legged on the throne.

Zhang
Qi.

He did not look as I expected. I guess in my mind I stereotyped him into Fu Manchu; ancient, gray haired with a long stringy beard and mustache. None of that was accurate. He was young, visibly a decade younger than myself. Clean shaven, his black hair was braided in the back, the end pulled over his left shoulder and reaching down to the center of his chest. Smooth olive skin, a pronounced jaw, high cheekbones and hollow cheeks would have given his face the appearance of youthful beauty if it had not been for his haunting eyes. There was no color to them, both were the palest white with only a pin prick of retina and yet, for some reason I did not think that he was blind.