Firestorm: Heart of a Vampire #5 (20 page)

The woman spun, baring her fangs. “Do not lie to me.” She stalked forward until Cat was forced to step away. “Do not act like some useless male. They lie. Women do not treat one another that way,” she spat with fury.

Cat felt the wall at her back. There was nowhere else to go. She must apologize. She’d made the queen angry. Yet, she couldn’t push the words out. Something deep inside her stopped them from even forming.

Another woman, tall, with spikes of dark hair, approached. “Malia, what are you doing?” she asked.

The queen turned. “Now you dare question me, Jenna?”

Jenna smiled softly. “Of course not.” She held her arms open, and Malia walked into her embrace.

Within the other woman’s arms, Malia turned back to Cat. “I want to test her. Make sure she’s truly under control. I don’t trust this one.”

“That is smart,” Jenna replied, staring at her with a distant coldness that made Cat shiver. The woman grimaced, baring sharpened teeth.

Cat realized it was supposed to be a smile.

“Test her with this man. If she breaks, we will know for certain.”

Malia glanced up. “You don’t think that would push her past the point?”

With a shrug, Jenna replied, “If it does, so what? We’ll up the dose and try again.”

“Fine.” Malia waved to the prone, unconscious man. “Wake him and we will see.”

* * *

Eric slowly came awake, though he kept his eyes closed. He could smell Malia and Jeremiah, and now, Cat. Struggling not to tense, he flexed his wrists, finding them shackled.

His mind was hazy, his thoughts mixing between past memories and the present.

He forced his mind to slow.

Building. Basement. Hordes of Arcaine under some voodoo spell. His body reminded him of the fight as every part of him began to ache. He needed to save Cat.

“We know you’re awake,” Malia said.

He slowly opened his eyes, only to wonder if he wasn’t still dreaming of past tortures. He stood in front of a wooden cross in the shape of an X. Chains on his wrists led to rivets in the top of each of the cross’s bars. He glanced down, to see his ankles attached to more chains leading to the bottom posts.

Malia drew closer, trailing a sharp nail over his shoulder. “The whipping post is an excellent device. Designed by men, of course,” she stated. “But do you know how quickly men break down and beg for release? Not one man has ever come close to lasting as long as I was forced to do.”

She raised a hand and the chains jerked tight, forcing his chest, arms and legs against the rough wood. “Let’s see how long you can go before crying, begging for mercy.”

He looked at her, jaw tightening. “You will not break me,” he stated. He couldn’t allow it. Cat needed him.

Her scent filled the air and he craned his neck until he could see her.

She stepped up next to Malia, the woman who smelled like Jeremiah holding her arm. Jenna, Malia had called her.

Jenna handed Cat a whip, then pushed her forward. “Punish him. Bring him to his knees.”

Cat’s usually crystal green eyes were hazed, though a spark of confusion flashed through them for a short second.

“Now,” Malia commanded.

“Yes, My Queen,” Cat replied in a monotone, not herself.

“Cat?” he whispered as understanding dawned. Whatever Malia had done to the others, somehow making them walking puppets, she’d done to Cat.

She raised the whip, her jaw tight from gritted teeth, her eyes a deep crimson from fury.

His heart raced, his mouth dried. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, trying to block out all thoughts of betrayal. Of this woman torturing him.

The whip cracked in the air behind him and he turned his gaze to Malia and Jenna. They both watched with glee. The whip cracked the air once more.

Malia flinched, as if she, like him, had been too long on the receiving end.

His thoughts spun, weakness hitting him, draining him.

Tortured like a dog.

Again.

And he wondered how long it would take before his mind broke completely. He was already partly insane. He didn’t know if he could survive a repeat of his past... not from her.

He slumped against the post, hanging his head in shame at the urge to give up.

Using every last ounce of strength, he stared at Cat. The sight of her, a pawn under someone else’s control, the listlessness in her form, the glaze in her eyes, sparked his anger.

No.

She might not know it at this moment, but he was there to save her. It wasn’t just himself who would be lost if he gave up now.

And he couldn’t bear to allow this spitfire to be dampened by the bitch urging her to torture him.

What would be next? The woman had already killed countless vampires and other Arcaine. How long would she keep Cat alive?

His flagging strength returned, borne on the blood of his ancestors as his rage filled him. The world glossed with a crimson glow. He tested his muscles against the chains and felt some give in the restraints.

He pulled harder, calling on that anger, the rage. Metal popped softly. Malia and Jenna didn’t seem to notice.

He’d wait for the right time. Escape. Get Cat out of there.

Confidence filled him. He’d not let his woman down.

Never again.

Malia commanded, “Enough playing. Whip him as he deserves.”

The whip tickled over his back, not even like an annoying fly, it was so soft.

“I-I can’t,” Cat whispered.

Malia’s reply was furious, “What is he to you then? He’s just some man, his only purpose to rule over you, force you to his bidding. His only desire to hurt you, a mere woman.”

“Cat?” he asked, staring at her. “Wake up.”

She met his gaze and a spark of recognition flared. Then it turned to anger tinged with agony. “Yes. His only desire is to hurt me,” she said. “All because he wants to push me into a despicable category from his past.”

His heart ached for causing the pain drenching her eyes. And he couldn’t deny her words.

Chapter Twenty-Two

C
at turned to Malia, unable to stomach the sight of her strong warrior shackled to the whipping post.

How agonizing this must be for him, forcing his old memories to mind.

She let the whip clatter to the floor. “That doesn’t give me the right to beat him. Every single one of you people are stuck in the fifteenth century for crying out loud. And you. You’ll never be my mistress or my queen.”

Malia let out a cry of rage. “You lying, faking bitch.”

Cat backed away.

Malia’s dark eyes narrowed, predatory and furious. “I have magic you’ll never defeat.” She threw her head back and screamed.

From other rooms, hoarse screams echoed back. The zombies she’d created. The sound of shuffling steps headed along the hallway, coming toward them.

Cat raced for the door, slamming it shut just a second too late. An arm slid through the opening as the press of people shoved at the door. Panic crept up inside her and she shot a glance at Eric.

If the voodoo zombies got inside, he’d be helpless, chained to the cross.

Whispering her command, she directed fire at the arm, hoping it didn’t sweep through the innocent people.

Malia raked her nails through Cat’s hair, jerking her backwards.

The press on the other side of the door lightened and she slammed it closed, throwing the antique bolt shut. Then she spun. “Power-hungry bitch.”

Malia sneered. “I don’t need more, I have unlimited power already.”

“How could you kill people of your own coven?”

“My coven? I’m as old as Jacques, and yet I have been relegated to the dregs of this place. I should be the one in charge. Not forced to bow down to yet another male.”

Cat blinked, as the faces of all the dead rose before her. “All of this is because you’re not in control?”

Malia sneered. “You say that as if control is nothing. You don’t know, have never experienced, how power can turn another into a monster.” Her eyes unfocused, blazing pure vampire red. “Someone to be despised as they wield their control over others until everything is covered with blood and the dust of bones.”

“Not everyone with power uses it badly,” Cat stated a bit shakily at the venom and pain in the woman’s voice.

With a cry of rage, Malia focused once more on Cat. “You understand nothing. Your safe, precious world has never been decimated by evil.” She raced for Cat, her hands clawed.

Cat didn’t have any weapons, and she feared trying to use more fire until she was certain it would do enough damage. Already, she could feel her miniscule reservoir of power weakened from using it on the zombies in the hall.

She sank into a crouch, taking a deep, centering breath, gathering her strength. When Malia drew close enough, Cat punched.

Her fist landed in the center of Malia’s chest. Ribs cracked.

The woman screamed as she stumbled back.

From across the room, a screech rang out. Jenna flew across the room, barreling into Cat. Sharp claws sank deep into her shoulders as she was lifted and thrown against the far wall.

Stunned, head spinning, blood running in rivulets down her chest and back, Cat stared at Jenna.

The woman held Malia in her arms, patting her head, whispering something.

Shaking, Cat struggled to her feet.

Jenna’s face contorted in furious anger. “You hurt her.”

“How many has she killed? She deserves to die.” Cat knew it was either these women, or her and Eric. But not everyone would be leaving this room alive.

Jenna pushed Malia to the side and behind her, advancing on Cat. She held her hands out, her skin and fingers twisting into talons.

Across the room, metal groaned, snapped. Eric jerked from the cross, chains dangling from the cuffs on his arms and ankles. The metal rings on the ends were twisted, as if he’d ripped them apart.

When he glanced at her, his eyes were drenched in red.

Jenna looked at Eric. “Malia, love. Take care of the whore. I shall dispatch the Viking.”

Cat warily watched them both.

Jenna headed for Eric.

Malia faced Cat, smiling. “Now you’ll get a taste of what I can do.” She raised her hands, whispering some strange language.

A fogginess grew over Cat’s mind once more. Pure magic. Fey magic.

Something deep inside, something she’d never felt before, never even known existed, rose up inside her.

Across the room, Jenna shouted in triumph. Cat glanced up in time to see Eric fly through the air and ram into a wall, blood streaming from a gash along his temple.

Between the strangeness welling up inside her and the spike of terror for Eric, the fog in her mind cleared.

She stared at Malia and stepped forward.

Malia’s eyes narrowed, her lips tightening. A flash of fear raced across her face before she could hide it. “What are you?” the woman demanded.

“None of your damn business.” Feeling the spell trying to weave around her once more, Cat let the inner strangeness flow through her.

Her entire body warmed, as if any moment, she’d spontaneously combust. She funneled that heat, directing it at Malia. The woman continued to advance, murder in her gaze.

Pushing all her pain at the needless deaths, all her fury, into the command, Cat stepped towards her, chanting, “
Incendium
”, again and again.

Malia screamed as flames engulfed her. Her gaze, stricken with horror, met Cat’s. “No! You can’t.”

Cat sneered as the woman fell to the ground, her shrieks quieting as her body slowly turned to deadened ash.

Across the room, Jenna screamed in fury. Her face contorted in furious anger. “You killed her!”

“I told you she deserved to die,” Cat replied wearily, the well of power beginning to fade.

Yet this wasn’t nearly over.

Eric silently crept up behind the woman.

Cat’s heartbeat spiked when Jenna whirled. Moving almost too fast to see, she reached Eric. Grabbing his hair, she jerked his head back.

She raised her other hand, staring at Ca, her fingers still twisted into sharpened claws. “Now it’s his turn.”

She moved to slice Eric’s throat.

“No!” Cat screamed, her heart seeming to stop as she raced forward. She didn’t think, only reacted, throwing balls of fire.

The flames encased the woman, lighting her brightly for a second, before sliding to the floor and burning out in a whiff of smoke.

Jenna laughed. “You can’t touch me with such pitiful powers. Lamia are born of the deepest flames of the earth. Fire is our mother.”

Her claws touched Eric’s throat. Blood welled over his tanned skin.

And Cat knew she’d never reach them in time to save him.

But she’d made the woman pause earlier. She flung another ball of flames, then another. With each running step she drew closer.