Firestorm: Heart of a Vampire #5 (19 page)

For a long moment, he could only stare after her, stupefied. “Woman!” he shouted, running to his SUV and driving after her.

* * *

Cat parked in front of a dark warehouse. She didn’t see any other cars, but if this was an underground party, they were probably moving them somewhere else, avoid attracting outside—and mortal—attention.

She got out and donned her wings, not caring that the snow still fell heavily around her. Still numbed, inside and out, she didn’t feel the cold. She was already encased in a block of ice that was holding back the pain in her heart. In her soul.

A door squeaked open and Jeremiah stepped out. He glanced around, then beckoned her forward.

“Where’s your brute?”

“I left him at home.”

Jeremiah grinned and something slithered down her back before the fog in her mind pushed it away. “Good. Let’s go inside,” he said, taking her arm. They walked inside and down a darkened hallway to a set of stairs leading to the basement.

The stench of death hit her, sparking her emotions and breaking through the haze. She stopped, her instincts screaming that all of this was wrong.

She turned to ask Jeremiah about it.

He read her face, then smiled, predatory. “Welcome to our playground,” he stated, just before shoving her down the stairs.

She tumbled over hard, sharp stone, then collapsed in a ball of writhing pain at the bottom. Jeremiah reached her, seeming surprised she was still concious.

He bent closer, his fetid breath sweeping over her as he said, “Sleep now. We have much fun in store later.”

He laid a hand on her forehead and magic filled her mind, then nothing.

* * *

As Eric drove, flying down the road like a bat escaping from the labyrinths of the deepest pit in the hells, the sorceress’s laugh filled the car.

Pain flashed along his back. The brand on his thigh flared to life.

But this time, he refused to descend into madness. “You no longer have a hold over me,” he growled.

Her laugh grew louder, mixed with that of his king’s sister. Their voices blended together. The pain burned brighter.

“Damn it,” he shouted, punching the steering wheel. “Cat makes you go away. She stops you. I can damn well do the same. I don’t have time for you right now.”

To his shock, the pain faded, the laughter dimmed, growing fainter, even if it didn’t completely disappear.

He grinned. It was a beginning.

Now he just had to reach Cat and make her listen to him. Without his even knowing, she’d began to heal his damaged mind. And his fractured heart.

He had to tell her, make sure she knew.

Eric pulled up near a cluster of buildings and slammed on his brakes, stopping right behind Cat’s tiny car. Jumping out, he glanced around. The air was heavy, the place seemingly deserted. There was supposed to be a party here?

He headed for a door, found it locked. Frustration welled and he drew his axe, bashing the flat of the blade against the handle. It popped off and the door creaked open.

Cat’s scent drifted to him, but it was overpowered by the dark stink of magic, and the stench of decay. Of death.

His instincts urged him to flee from the magic as fast as he possibly could.

But damn it, he refused to leave Cat.

He pushed inside and glanced around a deserted hallway. A thumping sound came from below. Wasting time, he searched until finding stairs leading down. Once more, he scented Cat. And her blood. Drops of crimson splashed over the stone steps sporadically.

His vision darkened with the same reddish haze. He hurried down the stairs, silent, cautiously listening. All was quiet.

At the bottom, a bigger pool of blood reflected dim light. Three hallways led into darkness, the stench of death overpowering. He moved down the first hallway, only to have it abruptly end at a brick wall.

Turning back, he retraced his steps, and moved down the central corridor. Luck—or fate—was with him as he spotted another droplet of blood on the floor. He slowed, worry filling him, screaming at him to rush in and save his woman. Yet he didn’t know what the hells was going on. He had to figure it out if he had any hope of getting them both out of here safely.

The hallway opened up into a cavernous area. Lights flashed on, blinding him for a second. When his vision cleared, he gazed at the other end of the room, stupefied.

Cat’s coven member, Malia, sat on a raised dais in a throne made of human bones. Once more wearing only a bra and panties, her face and skin were painted with strange symbols. Painted in blood. At her side, a woman stood, also only wearing a bra, underwear and blood. There was something familiar about her, though he couldn’t figure out what. He suddenly caught Jeremiah’s scent... coming from her.

Along the sides of the room, people and Arcaine creatures were chained. Some hung limp, obviously dead. Others moaned, nearly unconscious. Between those chained, stood others, their eyes vacant, staring but unseeing.

Voodoo created zombies, like the man they’d captured.

He took another step inside, facing Malia and the woman. “Where’s Cat?”

Malia laughed. “Ah, sleeping. Don’t worry. You’ll see her soon.” She raised her hand, and as if one, the zombies around the room moved toward him. “Jenna, how long do you suppose he’ll last?”

“Not long, my love,” the woman, yet another incarnation of Jeremiah replied.

He raised his axe, ready to fight. Arms clasped him from behind. He hadn’t heard or sensed anyone at his unprotected back. He jerked from their grasp and spun, slashing with
BrynTröll
. His vision turned a deep red as he downed one, then another. More reached him.

Hands grasped.

Nails scratched, digging deep.

Teeth sank into skin and muscle.

Magic shuddered through the room, and some of the people shifted into animal form. Wolves, a couple bears. Howls and screeches from the creatures rose, echoing deep into his mind, blending with the memories of the sorceress’s beasts.

Fire flickered over him from somewhere. Nails were replaced by claws, slicing through his clothes, then skin.

He hacked with his axe, spinning, slashing, but there were too many.

His memories rushed to the fore, blocking his vision of the present. He could see only a dim light, outlining familiar dungeons. The sorceress’s laughter filled him with ice and a shudder of weakness and fear engulfed him.

“There’s no hope,” she whispered, as the brand on his left thigh blazed in fiery agony. “Have I not shown you this?”

Fiona’s voice joined in, filled with a crazed childlike glee. “Hurt him, hurt him. Make him beg.”

Teeth and claws and nails ripped at his skin. His axe was yanked from his grip. He could barely move, as if once more in the sorceress’s chains.

He fell to one knee. The press of bodies all around him was suffocating. The stench of decay all encompassing.

“No!” he screamed. Cat’s face came to mind. “I said leave me be. You will not keep me from her.”

His vision began to clear of the past, bringing him back to the present. He could smell Cat. She was nearby.

Had to reach her. Save her.

But though he’d managed again to push his damn memories away, the hands and claws and teeth around him were immense.

He fought harder, relishing the power flowing to him from his berserker strength. Blood covered him, the floor. But it wasn’t only his.

He blinked, and Jenna stood in front of him, gazing at him, assessing.

As more creatures slipped past his guard, biting and scratching, grabbing hold of his arms and legs, trying to bring him down, she smiled.

“I see into your mind,” Jenna whispered. “You are too far broken. Let me help with that.”

The world went blank and all Eric could see were flames surrounding him, burning him beyond belief.

“No!” he screamed, but the agony of the fire, eating him alive, took over everything else as the sorceress and his king’s sister laughed.

Chapter Twenty-One

W
hen Cat woke, she was in the strangest place she’d ever seen. Across the room, people dangled from chains hooked to the ceiling. She caught a glimpse of some familiar faces, but her thoughts circled uselessly.

She couldn’t put a name to any of them, though she felt certain she should be able to.

A headache throbbed at her temples. Her senses were hyper-aware. Her heart beat loudly and each breath she took was a whooshing of air rushing in and out of her lungs.

Someone moved and the rattle of chains sounded like a jazz band playing right next to her ear.

Slowly, through the fog, a scent came. Masculine and musky. Comforting, though she couldn’t remember why.

“Ah, you’re awake. Good,” a female whispered.

Cat blinked, staring at a beautiful, dark-skinned woman. “Who are you?”

She laughed softly, and Cat once more felt comforted, as if she knew her. Not the person the familiar scent was coming from, though.

“Who am I?” The woman smiled slyly. “So my potions are working on you. I wasn’t sure they would. You see, Jacques was far too strong for them. It seems I can only bend younger, less powerful creatures to my bidding.”

A sharp spark of fear inched up Cat’s spine. The words didn’t make sense.

Jacques? Who was he?

Potions?

“Who are you?” Cat repeated.

The woman scowled. “I am your mistress. Your queen.”

Cat searched her thoughts, but something about this woman, no longer comforting, screamed danger. “My queen?” she asked hesitantly, as if trying out the words.

Chains rattled and a weight lifted from her wrists and ankles.

“Rise,” her queen commanded.

Cat stood.

“Good, pet.” The woman circled Cat. “I always thought you weaker than you appeared. Why, Jacques, even after many potions, never did succumb. You only needed four doses.”

“Potions?” she asked, her confusion growing. This wasn’t right. None of it.

The woman slapped her hard enough for Cat to stumble backwards. “I did not give my pet permission to speak.”

An urge to apologize, to drop down and grovel at her queen’s feet filled her. Biting her tongue hard enough to draw blood, Cat resisted.

Queen? She had no queen. Did she?

Across the room, one of the people suspended from the ceiling screamed, thrashing against their chains.

“Blake,” the woman commanded. “Silence him.”

A dark haired man, his eyes glassy, blank, strode by without a glance. Again, Cat felt a pang of familiarity, but again, it was uncatchable and faded.

A whip cracked, the scream came again. Then silence reigned.

The woman pushed Cat’s chin up, staring into her eyes. “Hmm. Not complete control, I don’t think. Let’s test it. What shall I have you do first?” Her dark eyes lit. “I know. Follow me.”

They left the room and headed down a narrow hall to another door.

Inside the large room, more people were chained to the surrounding walls. Metal beds were scattered through the room. Cat felt another flash of familiarity.

Death... Lying on those beds.

The people here, though, seemed merely unconscious. Her queen led her to a large man on one table. Covered in so much blood, she wondered how he still lived.

He mumbled in his sleep, hands fisting and jerking against the shackles at his wrists, his mouth twisted in a scowl.

Heat rose from the pit of her belly, a deep anger mixed with that same niggle of recognition at that scowl. And she realized the familiar, comforting scent came from him.

Yet, it was flames of fury that fanned her sense of knowing this man.

“What should I do to him?” the woman asked.

Cat’s first thought was to set him free, but she was certain that wasn’t the answer she needed to give. “I don’t know.”

The woman slapped her again.

Cat stumbled. The scent of her own blood spiked into the air. She wiped her mouth, her hand coming away with a crimson stain.

“You will address me as
My Queen
, understand?”

“Yes.”

The woman raised her hand to strike and Cat mumbled out, “Yes, My Queen.”

Triumph blazed in the woman’s eyes and she lowered her fist. “Good. I enjoy a fast learner.” She turned her attention back to the man lying on the bed.

Cat glanced around the room, not sure what exactly she was looking for, just feeling the need to find... something.

“No,” her queen finally said. “Perhaps he’s not the best to begin with. I see the recognition in your eyes.”

“I don’t recognize him, My Queen,” Cat replied.

There was something about him that drew her, called to her. She felt the deepest need to make sure he was all right. All that blood... She shuddered as an ache grew in her chest, worry and fear for the man.