Haven (44 page)

The odor burned like acid in my nose. I gasped and the black magic slithered into my mouth, down my throat like a hot, thick snake, invading my lungs, my gut. I collapsed to the floor. Cramps tore at my gut and nausea threatened to make me throw up whatever remained of my sushi dinner. Not good.

Must stop her. Must break the barrier.

I tried to tear down the psychic barrier and failed. The potion cut me off from my power and my vampire family. And Stella. She waited outside, unaware we fought for our lives in here. Or had they ambushed her, too? Hurt her with this powerful, dark magic? And where was museum security? Bribed, injured, or dead? I curled into a tight fetal ball, though it worsened the pain in my rib cage. Blood dampened my face and oozed from my nose. How much more could I handle before my body, my half-human body declared enough?

A groan escaped me.

“You can take her now. She won’t get up again.” Tiffany’s tone was smug.

Paolo snorted. “Nice potion. For her, anyway. Didn’t do much to the vampire.”

“As I told you before, when you insisted I use it on him first, we crafted it for her body chemistry.”

We
. I was right. Someone powerful helped her.

“Well, it did slow him enough so we could fill him full of holes,” Greg conceded, zipping up the body bag with Alexander inside.

Paolo strolled over and picked me up. “She’s feverish. And she reeks.” He carried me across the room like I weighed no more than a feather pillow.

“It’s temporary. She’ll live.”

“Good. She dies, we don’t get paid.”

Well, a bit of promising news. They needed me alive. I could use that to my advantage, if I could get my body under control. Come on, vampire half, help a girl out here. Bring on the feral super-strength.

“Ready.” Greg dragged Alexander’s bag to the exit.

Paolo stopped and dumped me on the floor. I squeaked in pain, spotted the empty body bag next to me and squeaked again, pulse racing.
Oh, hell no, not in there.

“Shit.” Greg bent to pick up something from the floor.

Paolo joined him. The other man raised his hand. In it, my cell phone.

Paolo’s turn to curse. “Who was she talking to?”

“Mark.”

“Fuck.” Paolo grabbed the phone, threw it to the ground and crushed it to bits under his boot. “Let’s go.” He strode toward me.

If I was going to make a move, it had to be now. My boys knew I was in trouble. They were coming, so we needed to stay here. And fight.

Force of will and my inhuman genes got me to my feet. Paolo stopped a few feet away, gun drawn and aimed at my chest. “She’s standing.” Displeasure twisted his features.

“Well, duh.” I tried to sound strong and confident.

“What the fuck, witch?” That from Greg. He left Alexander’s bag by the gallery exit and joined Paolo. He hadn’t drawn his gun yet, though. Guess I didn’t appear problematic.

Good. Underestimate me and come closer.

“I don’t know,” Tiffany sounded less confident. She stalked toward me.

I crouched, ignoring the pain and agony in my body, searching deep inside for the strength to pull it off. I had one shot.

Paolo and Greg both relaxed, thinking I’d collapsed again, believing me helpless. Greg resumed his task of dragging Alexander from the room. Paolo watched Tiffany work and, lucky me, the stupid witch walked right up to me.

I jumped her, cutting short her scream with a death grip on her throat. She grabbed my wrists, but I held on tight and rode her body to the ground. Her head struck the marble floor with a resounding crunch. I sat on her stomach, squeezing the life out of her neck as blood flowed from the back of her head and fanned out onto the floor. Her body went limp, eyes glazed. Relief flooded me. Horror, too, at what I’d done, but most of all, relief.

One down, two to go.

“Don’t move or I’ll blow your fucking head off,” Paolo yelled from behind me.

“You got this?” Greg called from the hallway.

“Yeah. Get him in the van and bring back a pouch for the witch.”

“Copy that.”

“Get up, bitch,” Paolo growled. “Nice and slow.”

I released Tiffany’s neck and held up my hands, fingers spread wide, trying to look harmless despite the fact I’d just killed someone. I stared at the blood pooling around her head and a spark flickered in my gut. My power, struggling to ignite. The potion suppressed it, but with the witch dead, the potion’s magic had lost some of its oomph. Suddenly, I knew what to do.

“Up. Now.” Paolo stepped closer.

I climbed off Tiffany’s body doing my best to act shaky and weak. Not too much of a stretch since I was still in physical distress.

Paolo moved up next to me, gun trained at my temple. “On your feet.”

“Okay.” I put my hands in the puddle of blood, pretending to push myself off the floor when in reality I bathed my hands in her blood. Once upon a time this would’ve made me puke or run away screaming, but not now. Desperate times.

“Oh.” I faux-swooned, covering my face, licking blood off my palm.

“Up.” Paolo nudged me with his foot.

“Can’t,” I moaned and put my other hand to my face, repeating the cleaning process.

The blood tasted fantastic despite the fact it came from a germy floor, from a dead body. From a person I killed.
I gagged and almost stopped, but it was working. My power sparked to life, coursing through my body, breaking the magic’s hold on me, feeding me strength. Given my other injuries, I suspected this was a temporary reprieve so I needed to act fast. I moaned and swayed on my knees, feigning helplessness.

Paolo snorted, holstered his gun and hauled me to my feet. I drove my elbow into his gut. Ribs cracked. He released me with a grunt and I whirled, vampire-quick, kneeing him in the groin. He fell, howling. One last kick to his kneecap and I ran.

My power was still online and I used it to obliterate the psychic barrier in my head and broadcast to anyone who could hear—and I hoped a whole city of super-powered, undead good guys tuned in—
Help Me! At the W-T!

No reply.

Two gunshots and a sudden overwhelming pain in my right leg and arm sent me sprawling to the ground, screaming. Greg, the bastard, shot me. Jesus, two bullet wounds, two head injuries. I was going to bleed out.

What happened to the need-me-alive-to-get-paid part of this kidnapping?

Greg knelt over me. “Fuck magic. We’re doing this old school now.”

He backhanded me across the face. The world flashed white and my ears rang. He grabbed my injured arm and dragged me across the floor. I screamed, the sound bouncing off the gallery walls.

Greg dumped me by an empty body bag. Paolo appeared, grabbed my wounded arm and squeezed. My vision swam, the world reduced to black and white spots. He slapped his other hand over my mouth, fingers digging into my jaw. “I’ll make you beg to die, bitch.”

Greg whipped out a pair of handcuffs and secured my wrists. Paolo released me and limped away. I was relieved at his departure, but it didn’t change the fact I was screwed. A wave of nausea made me retch and I coughed, spewing blood all over Greg. Oh great, internal bleeding. Yep, majorly screwed. Greg backhanded me again and I blacked out.

I came to, zipped up to my waist inside the body bag. Greg appeared, a small white cloth in one hand.

“Please,” I croaked.

“Ah, how the bitchy has fallen.”

I eyed the cloth. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why the hell not?”

“Do you want money? I have money.” I coughed. No blood this time, but pain speared my body, making my eyes roll up in my head.

Greg knocked on my forehead with his knuckles until I opened my eyes. “It’s not about money. Well, actually it is, but it’s also, I just don’t like you.”

I coughed, causing another jolt of pain. “You are so fired.”

Greg snorted. “Cute, real cute.”

“The charges are set. Let’s move,” Paolo called out.

“Charges?” I didn’t like the sound of that.

Greg nodded. “Explosives. Can’t leave any useful evidence behind, now can we?”

No. Not the museum. I loved this place.

“Besides, blowing up shit is fun.” He pulled a small brown bottle out of his coat pocket. “If we’re lucky, your boys will be inside when it blows. That’s the goal, anyway.”

“What—?” I broke off and swallowed painfully, mouth so dry. “What did you do to Stella?” I grasped at straws, but I needed to know.

“Me? Nothing. The monsters took care of that lethal bitch.”

The last shred of hope died in me. Greg opened the bottle and poured some liquid onto the white cloth.

“You don’t have to do this.”

The bastard grinned. “Actually, yes, yes I do.”

I moved my head to keep the cloth away from my face, but it was no use.

He smashed it against my mouth and nose. “Say goodnight, bitch.”

Twenty One

Movement and pain forced me back to consciousness. I lay in the half-open body bag in a vehicle. Every stop, go, turn, and bounce tortured my battered body. I swallowed my pained cries, unwilling to let my captors know I was awake. I didn’t want to be drugged again. Or beaten. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood and listened to the two men.

Paolo was throwing quite a tantrum, for such a tough guy. “Let’s kill her.”

“No.”

“Fine, I’ll kill her then.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Easy words for you, man. You weren’t the one who got your balls jammed up your ass. She’s fuckin’ strong, freak-of-nature strong.” He groaned. “I think she cracked my fuckin’ ribs.”

“So? You’ll recover. Quit whining like a girl.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill her.”

“Don’t be a fucking idiot,” Greg snapped. “Your ego is bruised ’cause you were taken by a girl, so fucking what? Get over it.”

“Not just any girl,
that
girl, and her supernatural shit.” Paolo let out another pained groan. “We should’ve taken her at Adrian’s when we had the chance. That magic shit fucked up everything.”

Greg snorted. “Shoulda, coulda, woulda. Calm down and stick to the plan.”

“Well, they better fucking kill her.”

“I don’t give a shit what they do with her and you shouldn’t either. Focus on the prize, my friend, that fat, seven-digit prize.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Paolo sounded quieter now, but no happier. “She’s close enough to dead, anyway, I guess, since you shot her. Why the hell did you do that?”

“Why the hell didn’t you?”

Silence.

“She won’t die,” Greg continued. “I didn’t hit anything major. Just winged her.”

“Too bad.”

“Shut the fuck up, man.”

Their Neanderthal chatter faded away. I knew this meant I was passing out again, but I welcomed it, invited the darkness, the cold, the calm, because if I had to die now, I didn’t want to do it listening to those two idiots.

~ * ~

Darkness. Fresh ocean air, boots on gravel, rough hands on my body. Tugging. Lifting. Cigarette smoke, antiseptic, iron. Cold metal against my back. Hands, hands all over me. Something sharp sliding along my skin. Cloth ripping. A voice.

Rina. It’s Faith. Can you hear me?

My eyes shot open. I sat on a stone floor, in a long hallway lit by wall sconces, wearing a...pink nightie?

Oh great, not this dream again,
I complained to the empty hallway. At least no bad guys this time.

You’re not dreaming. But you’re unconscious. And trapped. I am, too.

I glanced around.
Faith? Is that you?

Yes, Rina.

Why can’t I see you?

That’s not important right now. Listen, your body—

What about it?

You’re hurt.

Yes, I’m aware of the brutal beating I took from Team Evil.
From the second string players. What a confidence shaker.
So we’re having a psychic chat in this imaginary hall in my brain because I can’t wake up, right?

Yes. And they can’t help you. Listen.

“She was to be unharmed,” Dr. O’s deep voice rumbled.

My eyes widened in surprise.
Dr. O’s a bad guy?

Faith shushed me.

“She’s alive,” Greg replied, tone defensive.

“She is gravely injured.”

“But she’s one of you. She can heal fast, right?” Greg’s voice cracked, his confidence fraying.

“What she is or is not, is none of your concern, human.”

“We had no choice.” Paulo snapped the words in defiance.

Silence.

“Drain them.”

“Oh fuck!” Paolo yelled at the same time Greg protested, “You can’t do this. We did what you wanted. You owe us, we—” His words cut off.

A female voice spoke next. “Heal her, Oliver.”

Brigid. Fucking Brigid.

I told you she was evil! Why didn’t any of you believe me? God dammit! Now I knew the source for dead witch Tiffany’s enhanced power.

“I have done what I can,” Dr. O replied to her. “But she bleeds inside, here and here.”

Brief pressure in my head and gut. Dr. O’s touch?

“She requires surgery we cannot provide. That, or a miracle.”

Fear gripped me at his words.

“She is not so weak. Feed her the blood of the two who failed us. Her body will do the rest.”

“Do not tell me how to do my job.” Judging by his tone, he didn’t like her much. Useful info, if I could wake up. Oh, and not die.

“You all forget she is human,” Dr. O continued.

“
Half
human.”

“She is all too human and you have cut her off from her vampire bloodline, ripped her from her fountainhead, and imprisoned her essence in this battered shell. Even with a meal of fresh blood, her vessel cannot combat the internal bleeding quickly
enough. She must reconnect to her source, for only
her father can save her now.”

“Lies. You would say anything to help her escape us. I know you do not believe in our cause.”

“I cannot lie to you. Revenge is for fools.”

Brigid huffed. “It is not solely revenge we seek.”