11 Poison Promise (29 page)

It was the first time I’d seen him show any real emotion, other than twisted pleasure, so I decided to lash out with the only thing I could: words.

“What’s wrong, Beau?” I croaked, my voice hoarse and raspy from all my screams. “Did you not get the results you wanted? Aw, it’s too bad that your little science project failed. But really, you should have known better.”

He stiffened and gave me a withering glance. “And why is that?”

“Oh, c’mon, Dr. Frankenstein. Don’t you know that the monster never reacts how you think she will?”

His black eyebrows drew together in confusion. Maybe it was the drug still working its way through my system or simply my relief at being alive, but his puzzled expression made me giddy, so giddy that I started snickering, which soon erupted into long, loud laughter, until tears were streaming down my face and my ribs ached.

But I couldn’t stop laughing—I didn’t
want
to stop.

Benson stared at me, even more confused than before. But my delighted peals soon made his uncertainty melt into anger. Red roses of embarrassment bloomed in his pale cheeks, and his blue eyes glittered with rage behind his silver glasses. He got to his feet, threw his pen and pad down onto the table, and ripped off his white lab coat.

“Clean her up,” he snarled, slapping his coat down onto the back of his chair. “I want her ready to go for round two as soon as possible. I’m going to check with the supplier and get a fresh batch of pills to use on her.”

Silvio nodded. Benson gave me one more disgusted look before stomping out of the lab and slamming the door behind him to cut off the sound of my merry, mercurial, maniacal chuckles.

•  •  •

Silvio spent a few minutes unhooking me from the monitors and other contraptions. He didn’t say a word as my crazy laughter finally slowed, sputtered, and then stopped. When he had finished putting the machines away, Silvio pulled out his phone and sent a quick text. Then he moved behind me, out of my line of sight, before coming back into view and setting a thick white plastic garbage bag on top of the table.

Clink-clink-clink.

I cocked my head to the side. I knew that sound—it was the clatter of silverstone blades scraping together. My knives were in that bag. Too bad I couldn’t get to them. Too bad I couldn’t do anything but sit in this damn chair.

I thought Silvio would grab my knives again and leave the lab, but he hesitated, then came over to stand beside me. And then he did the strangest thing of all.

He reached out and unlocked the silverstone restraint around my neck.

I blinked, wondering if maybe I was still flying high on Burn and hallucinating, but Silvio quickly opened the shackles around my wrists, then the ones around my ankles. We stared at each other, him as calm as ever, me completely confused. This had to be some sort of trap, some sort of trick on Benson’s part. No doubt, he had ordered Silvio to unshackle me just so he could watch me try to escape in my weakened state and take some more stupid notes for his so-called scientific observations.

But I didn’t care, and if there was one thing that I was good at, it was surviving impossible situations and leaving the bodies of my enemies strewn behind in my wake. Starting here and now with Silvio.

“Here,” Silvio said, leaning over the chair and stretching his hand out to me. “Let me help you up—”

I reached up, wrapped my right hand tightly around his neck, and used my left hand to push myself out of the chair. We tumbled to the floor. Silvio tried to slither out from under me, but I reached for what little magic I had left—my Stone power this time—and hardened my hand with it. I used my viselike grip to put even more pressure on his throat, squeezing, squeezing tight.

“You make a sound or a move that I don’t like, and I will crush your windpipe,” I hissed. “What is this? Why did you free me? What game is Benson playing now? Is this all part of his experiment?”

“No . . . game . . .” Silvio croaked. “Trying . . . to . . . help you.”

I lay on top of the vamp, waiting for him to start clawing at my hand or punching me in the face. If he really wanted to, he could throw me off him. My arms and legs were about as steady as a bowl of soup right now, and the only reason I was holding him down was that my body was complete dead weight.

But instead of fighting, Silvio stayed still. “You held up . . . your end of the . . . bargain,” he rasped. “You saved . . . Catalina . . . from him. Just trying . . . to return . . . the favor.”

His gray gaze locked with my much frostier one, but I didn’t see anything in his eyes except cool, calm clarity. Silvio had already accepted his own death, whether it was here at my hand or later on at his boss’s.

“Benson will kill you for this,” I said, trying to rattle him, trying to see if he really meant what he said. “You know he will.”

Silvio nodded as much as my Stone-hardened hand would let him. “I am . . . well aware of that.”

I stared into his eyes, but his calm expression didn’t flicker or waver, not even for a second. He was either sincere in his desire to help me, or he was one of the best actors I’d ever seen. Either way, I made my decision. No choice, really. As much as I hated to admit it, I wasn’t getting out of here on my own. Not when I was weak, still
partially drugged, and running low on magic and had my bare ass hanging out of the back of a hospital gown.

“All right, then,” I said, releasing my grip on my Stone magic and Silvio’s throat. “If you’re so determined to betray your boss, then help me up. And find me some damn clothes.”

21

Silvio rolled me off him. He grabbed Benson’s white lab coat and tossed it at me before going over to a large metal safe in the back corner of the room.

Still lying on the floor, I stretched out my hand, dug my fingers into the fabric, and pulled the coat over to me. Even that tiny effort made sweat trickle down the small of my exposed back, and sitting up against the side of the torture chair made me pant for breath.

Silvio ignored my slow progress, spun the dial around on the front of the safe, and yanked the door open. He drew a black leather-bound book out of the dark depths of the safe before shutting and locking it again. He hurried back over to me. The vamp sighed, shook his head, and hoisted me up. It was all that I could do to stand upright, while he yanked my arms and body this way and that, maneuvering me around like a doll he was dressing.

I gritted my teeth to hold back my frustrated snarls. I
hated being so weak, so dependent, so damn
helpless
, but time was the most important thing right now, and if I had to be humiliated to escape, well, so be it.

Anything would be better than being strapped down in that fucking chair again.

Silvio buttoned the coat over my chest. Then he grabbed the plastic garbage bag full of my knives off the table and handed me one of the weapons, before sliding the book from the safe inside the plastic and tying the bag tight around my wrist.

“What’s that?” I asked. “That book.”

“Insurance.”

Before I could ask him what he meant, Silvio reached out, scooped me up into his arms, and headed toward the door. The bag of knives hanging off my wrist smacked against his hip, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Turn the knob for me, then relax, like you’re still riding high on the drug,” he said. “We’ll get a lot farther a lot faster that way.”

I tucked the knife in my hand up the sleeve of the coat, then did as he asked and went slack in his arms. Silvio put his back into the door, pushed it open, and left the lab.

He stepped back out into the drug den. Some of the addicts perked up as Silvio walked past them, but when they realized that he wasn’t Benson with a fresh hit for them, they sank back down onto their pillows and slid deeper into their despair. Two guards had been posted at the bottom of the stairs, and they frowned as Silvio stopped in front of them.

“Where you are going with her?” one of the vamps asked.

“Upstairs to get her cleaned up. She threw up all over the lab,” Silvio said in a bland tone. “Boss’s orders. He has special plans for this one.”

Both of the men winced at the words
special plans
, but they stepped aside so we could pass. Silvio climbed the stairs, still holding me in his arms.

“I hope you had a nice, tall glass of blood for breakfast,” I said. “You’ll need the energy, what with all this lying and backstabbing you’re doing.”

“Giant’s blood, actually,” he replied. “Two big glasses. I like to plan ahead. I thought that I might need a bit of extra strength today.”

“Are you saying that my ass is heavy?” I drawled. “Why, Silvio, I think I’m insulted.”

He huffed, although it sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Silvio reached the top of the stairs, turned right, and started moving down a long hallway. We passed room after room, all of them furnished with white couches, chrome lamps, and glass tables. Everything was sleek, chic, and polished to a high gloss, but no photos, books, magazines, or knickknacks of any kind adorned the furniture. I’d been too drugged earlier to pay much attention to my surroundings, but the inside of Benson’s mansion was very much a reflection of his lab and his own personality—cold, clinical, sterile.

The drug den and the lab were in the center of the mansion, and shadows cloaked the interior like demons about to break free from the walls. Or maybe that was just more hallucinations brought on by Burn.

But the guards were very real.

Vampires were stationed at the end of every hallway, all of them armed with guns and cell phones. A few of them stopped Silvio long enough to ask where he was taking me, but he gave them the same cleanup answer as before, and they let us pass. But the farther Silvio walked and the more guards he spoke to, the faster his steps became, until his wing tips were
bang-bang-bang
ing like a drum on the floor.

“Slow down,” I hissed. “You’re practically running, and running makes people suspicious.”

“We’re on a tight timetable, Ms. Blanco,” Silvio snapped back. “In case you haven’t guessed.”

We glared at each other, but he did slow his steps enough to keep me from griping at him anymore.

Silvio turned into another hallway, and I spotted a set of patio doors at the far end that weren’t being guarded. Through the glass, I could see the green expanse of the lawn outside. My heart lifted.

Silvio let out a relieved sigh. “Almost there—”

“Hey, Silvio!” a high feminine voice called out behind us. “Wait up!”

His steps faltered. His mouth pinched into a frustrated frown even as his eyes locked on the doors up ahead, and he debated whether to make a run for them. But he knew as well as I did that that would send all the guards racing in our direction, so he stopped and turned around.

A vamp came jogging up the hallway to us.

“Yes, Joan?” Silvio asked.

Joan stopped and waved her phone in the air. “I just got a text message from the boss asking where
she
is.” She jerked her head at me. “Benson wants to know why the
two of you aren’t in the lab. What are you doing all the way over here?”

Silvio stiffened. “Beau wanted me to get her cleaned up.”

“Yeah, but why didn’t you just dump her in one of the tubs in the bathroom close to the lab like usual?” Joan frowned. “What are you doing, Silvio? You’re not . . . actually . . .
helping
her—”

Before she could finish her thought, I palmed the knife hidden up the sleeve of my stolen lab coat and lashed out with it. I’d been hoping to catch the vamp in the throat, but she saw the glint of the weapon and jerked back at the last second. My knife only sliced across her breastbone, but that was more than enough to get her to stop asking questions.

Joan screamed and staggered back, clutching at the wound I’d opened up on her chest. Her head cracked against the wall, and she dropped to the floor, unconscious.

“Now you’ve done it,” Silvio muttered.

“What?” I sniped. “She was a second away from figuring it out anyway—”

Thump-thump-thump-thump.

Thump-thump-thump-thump.

Joan’s scream must have been louder than I thought, or the vamps had better hearing, because footsteps started pounding in our direction. Silvio cursed, turned, and ran toward the doors.