Haven (45 page)

“But revenge drove you to this evening’s foolishness. I speak the truth. Without the blood of the Father, she will perish and you will fail in your quest for your vengeance and her power.”

“No, Oliver, it is you who will die if you do not heal her. Need I remind you I can remove my protection from your person at any moment? My will alone keeps you safe within this circle. I do not wish to see you reduced to dust, my friend, but...”

“Do not threaten me, old woman. We are both far too old for such petty threats. You should be grateful I answered your call at all. The price for your betrayal will be great.”

“It is not I who will pay this evening.”

“This bitterness is beneath you. Our Prince has been a just master to you, when in truth, he could have destroyed you. This is how you thank him? You forget, there was good reason he destroyed the Dark One, so blinded are you by your love for the fallen one. One might almost accuse you of being too human in this regard and that, old woman, that will be your downfall.”

“Enough!” Brigid’s voice wailed through my imaginary hallway like a banshee.

Dr. O remained unfazed. “Yes, it is enough. While we stand here mired in past angst, the princess slips further away into a permanent darkness from which she will never awake.”

“Waxing poetic now? That does not make me believe your words.”

“Then let her die. I will say I told you so, but it will not make me happy to have been proven correct.”

“Damn you, Oliver!”

“We are both already damned.”

Brigid spat out a torrent of Gaelic and the conversation faded away.

You still here, Faith?
I asked my empty hall.

Yes.

So, I’m bleeding internally and—

You’ll die if you don’t use your Key.

Wait, what?
Dr. O hadn’t mentioned Alexander. Hospital, miracle, my father.

They don’t know what you’ve done. That he can save you. You have to show them.

Uh, hello, stuck in psychic hell hall here. Why don’t you tell them? You’re out there.

Faith sighed.
I can’t. My body...she poisoned me with her black magic. I can’t move or speak.

Panic squeezed my heart.
Are you dying?

No, I’m paralyzed and still mind-blind. I’m not even sure how I managed this visitation with you, though I suspect we have the vampire marks to thank for it.

Okay not dying. Good.
So what now?

Summon your Key.

But—

Do it, Rina. Please,
her voice faded.
Save yourself, then save us all.

Faith?

No reply. She was gone.

You forgot to tell me how.
I was stuck in my head, a figment of my own imagination, unable to touch Alexander or manifest any real power. Oh, wait. Faith said summon, as in give him a call.

Alexander.

Nothing.

Maybe I needed to amplify the call. More words. Magic words. Not my forte but I had nothing to lose and my life to gain.

Hear me, Alexander. By my blood you are mine. By your blood, I am yours. Come to me. By blood we are bound and you must be here now.
There, not bad. But would it work?

A roar filled my faux hallway. A surge of hope. I rose on trembling imaginary legs. A door appeared in the wall and I banged on it.
Alexander? I’m in here! I need you! Can you hear me?

I hear you,
Brigid replied from behind me.

I whirled. Her magic hit me in the chest, pinned me to the door, my feet a few inches off the ground. She glared at me with midnight blue, hate-filled eyes, mouth an angry red slash on her face.
You summoned the Youngling. Oliver insists you are human, dying, yet you managed to break our hold on the young one, awaken him and call him to your side. How do you suppose that is possible?

A rhetorical question?

Speak!

Okay, not rhetorical.
We’re uh, married.

Brigid crossed her arms, eyes narrowed to evil slits.
Explain.

What, married didn’t say it all? Fine.
We did a binding thing. Last night.

You bound yourself, one to the other?
Her voice sounded blasé, but rage flashed in her eyes.

Yes.

How?

I didn’t want to answer her, especially not with a blow by blow, but I had to give her something. I needed out of this dream hallway before my body died for real.
We shared blood.

And?
she growled.

And we exchanged vows.

She scowled, staring at a spot above my head.
She has confirmed the Youngling’s story. Did you know of this, Oliver?
Her voice was calm, but the tone threatening.

Dr. O’s voice sounded from behind the door. “No.”

Your word?

“My word of honor. I swear to you, I was unaware the binding had come to pass.”

Around us, the hallway shimmered, like a mirage threatening to disappear.

Dr. O called out. “Decide, Brigid. She is failing.”

Failing? As in dying? Shit. Alexander, Alexander, Alexander
.
I clung to his name, my lifeline.

Brigid closed the small distance between us. Her palm shot forward and smacked me in the forehead.
Wake up, mongrel.

~ * ~

My body thrashed on a metal table, restricted by hands on my arms and legs and a hard chest pressed against mine. More hands grabbed my head preventing it from hitting the cold steel under me. My mouth opened and closed like a dying fish as I screamed a silent scream, the pain, too much pain, choking me.

“Hurry, Youngling,” Dr. O urged, from his spot securing my arms.

“Working on it.”
Alexander.
The body pressing against my chest, the strong hands holding my head belonged to him. My eyes flew open and locked with his beautiful blues.

“Carina.” He kissed my forehead, wiped pain tears from my cheeks.

“Now, Youngling,” Dr. O warned.

Alexander snarled at the other man, slashed his wrist and put the wound to my mouth. “Drink, Carina. By my blood I am yours. Take my blood and heal. Please.”

No need to beg on that one. Blood gushed from the deep wound and I drank it in greedy gulps. A delicious warmth fanned out from my gut, chasing out the pain, healing me. Bye-bye internal bleeding. Gone. Like magic.

Our magic.

My body relaxed. Dr. O released my arms and whoever held my legs followed suit. I gripped Alexander’s forearm, pressing my mouth hard against his wrist, lips forming a tight seal while I drank and drank. His eyes, now vampire black, lost their glow of power, the light fading from their depths like a flashlight running out of batteries. His head slumped forward, resting on my chest.

Alarmed, I stopped drinking. “Alexander?”

He lifted his head and flashed me a weak smile I didn’t return. The wound on his wrist remained open.
Vampire flesh heals quickly so why...Oh, crap. I took too much. I hurt him.

“I’m sorry.” I pushed my fingers through the unruly brown locks falling over his forehead. He closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. I continued stroking his hair, letting my fingers linger on the skin at his temples, tracing his hairline down to his cheek. He put his hand over mine, pressed his face into my palm. He was cold, too cold.

He opened his eyes and straightened. “You need to feed now.”

“I think I should be the one saying that to you.” I felt fine, weak and tired, but otherwise pain free. Of course, I hadn’t tried moving.

Alexander helped me sit up. Dried blood caked his bracelet and arm, his shirt in tatters, beautiful chest riddled with bullet holes. Paolo and Greg had shot my man way too many times.
A miracle he’s still here with me.

I squeezed his hand. “Why haven’t you healed?”

“Some bad-for-me herbs in the witch’s potion.”

“And blood loss,” Dr. O added from the foot of the table.

“Then feed him,” I snapped.

The doctor stared at me with dark, unreadable eyes. “I am indeed sorry to say I cannot assist you, Princess.”

I frowned and shifted my legs. Two beefy hands grabbed my ankles.

They belonged to another vampire, a bald giant with a thick, auburn handlebar moustache. He stood well over six feet, a wall of muscle with a Santa Claus gut, all of him squeezed into black leather from chest to foot.

I glared, refusing to be intimidated by his size. “Let me go.”

“Release her, Aaron.” Brigid’s voice snapped in command.

Aaron, the vampire, disappeared in a whoosh of air, jostling the remains of my shirt. Someone had ripped it up the middle. My jeans looked a mess, too, the left pant leg missing, the rest ripped and bloodied. My lacy, red bra and matching panties remained intact, but my shoes and socks were gone.

Blood rushed to my face. Great, barely dressed and blushing in front of the bad guys.

Dr. O glanced up from scrutinizing my rib cage, eyes locking with mine. “Brigid, might you have some attire for the princess?”

I didn’t catch her reply because Alexander collapsed to his knees. “Shit.” I hopped off the table, but my legs were too weak to support me and I fell on my man, toppling us to the ground. I pressed my lips to his ear. “Feed on me.”

“Not for this, Carina. You’re not food. Never food.” He tried to push me off and failed.

“But you fed me. Why can’t I—?”

“No, I helped you heal. My vampire blood isn’t a meal, so you haven’t yet fed. You’ll need to, soon.”

“I’m fine, you’re not.”

“No.” His eyes closed.

“Please, Alexander. Don’t leave me.” I half-sobbed, panicked.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He tried to joke, but he was cold, weak. His injuries might not kill him, but he was hurting, fading, drifting to some near-death state far away from me, and it wouldn’t do.

Mine! Protect!
My inner vampire wailed.

I rolled off him, pulled him between my legs, clutching him to my chest. Part of me marveled I found the strength, but the rest of me remained in panic mode.

“Help him. Feed him!” I searched the room for someone, anyone to make it happen. I spotted the two men I hated most in the world, the ones who’d brought us into this hell. Across the room, Paolo lay strapped to a modified dentist’s chair. IV lines in his arms and feet travelled down and disappeared behind it. They were draining him, killing him, and I didn’t give a damn.

The price for betrayal
,
my vampire side growled.

Greg knelt near Paolo’s feet, eyes glazed, under the influence of someone in the room. I felt no pity, only
satisfaction that he, too, would pay. My inner vampire cavewoman fixed her sights on Greg, bared her teeth and snarled. My lips peeled back and the sound escaped me, inhuman, hissing cat meets growling tiger.

Greg wouldn’t be drained by some blood-sucking machine. He was food
. My food. Our food.

“Greg. Come to me.”

Greg swayed.

“Release him to me,” I demanded. Someone in here held him enthralled and they damn well needed to let him go.

Our food, not theirs.

No one replied, but someone acquiesced. There was a subtle shift in the air, like the sweep of an invisible hand wiping away invisible cobwebs. The power dissipated and Greg sucked in a breath, blinked. Awareness crept back into his eyes.

I climbed to my feet. Need drove me to Greg’s warm, pulsing body. My eyes locked on the veins in his neck, the blood so blue, so close to the surface. The steady beat of his pulse called to me, like a good four-on-the-floor dance beat.

Greg gaped at me. “You—your eyes.”

I grabbed his throat and captured him with my gaze. No magic words, just one look, and I owned him. His brown eyes glazed over, his personality draining away until he was nothing but a body.

Nothing but food.

I relaxed my grip, sliding my fingers under his chin, raising him to his feet with my will. “Come.” I sauntered away, confident he would follow.

Alexander lay sprawled on the floor where I’d left him, watching our approach. His lips curled back from his fangs. His need felt like my own, burning a trail over my tongue, down my throat.

Hungry, so hungry.

“Kneel,” I ordered Greg.

He sank to the concrete floor with a loud
thunk
.

Alexander sat up, concern flitting across his face. “You sure about this?”

One nod. “Feed.”

“But you know him.”

I shrugged. “He’s a dead man, one way or another.”

Someone behind us smothered a laugh with a cough and the sound woke me up a bit, pushed back the vampire cavewoman just enough for human-me to hear what I’d uttered—with cold indifference—about a fellow human being. But I meant it. Alexander could take him now or the bad guys would kill him later. There was no if here, only how.

I joined him on the floor. “Feed, Alexander. Please.”

Alexander pulled the other man across his lap and struck his neck. Greg’s body jerked once, twice, and went limp. I watched Alexander drain him, waiting to be repulsed, horrified, but I experienced only satisfaction. And thirst. I ran my tongue over my flat teeth, wanting to pick up Greg’s arm, to rip open his flesh and drink the goodness trapped underneath. My hand slid around his wrist.

Alexander gazed at me with eyes gone black, glowing with the resurgence of his power. He released some of that power into me. I closed my eyes and fed on it. Blood lust still rode me, but this was good.

A tinkling noise surrounded us as if someone dropped coins onto the floor. I opened my eyes. Not money. Bullets. Alexander’s body pushed them out, his flesh knitting together, healing.

Greg’s body jerked. Almost dead. His pulse slowed, stuttered. His life force faded. I felt it, like I cupped his heart in my hands, a heart made of sand, the grains sifting out between my fingers, drifting into nothingness.