Awakened (34 page)

Jane was watching, she knew that. Until the tall vampire covered the girl’s frightened eyes with a black blindfold and tied it, getting her hair caught in the knot, and slapping her viciously when she cried out.

Barrett moaned. Nick heard her and tried to crawl up the wall and stand.

She heard herself screaming as she watched Vladimir and the other vampire kick him senseless. Vlad’s thugs moved in when those two stepped aside.

Nick screamed.

She blacked out.

CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE

Nick regained consciousness in a cage
.

The
cage. The one he knew was even now swinging above the pit in Vladimir’s underground fighting arena.

He was bound with shackles around his wrists and ankles, helpless prey. His chest was bare and slick with sweat and blood. He was barefoot.

Tim Murphy was on the other side of the cage, his massive hands, which had once been wrapped around Barrett’s throat, clutching the heavy black wire. He looked barely human anymore, with rotting flesh distorting his features. Thank God, Nick thought. Thank God Gary never suffered through this.

Murphy spit at Nick.

He used his shoulder to wipe the foul slime off his face.

Murphy bent his scabbed knees. Again and again. He was making the cage swing over the pit.

Huge torches set in basins supported by pillars threw flames high into the underground arena. Their red light seemed to bathe the arena in living blood.

“If I may have your attention.” Vladimir’s voice boomed and echoed. There were not enough guests to fill the underground space. But they looked eager for the show to begin.

“One of tonight’s combatants has been forced to cancel. But we have found a worthy opponent for Tim Murphy! Let us call him the Man of Iron.” The sarcastic edge in his voice got scattered laughter. “Those of you who joined me in subduing him earlier know how strong he is. Let’s test that strength, shall we?”

Applause. Restrained but enthusiastic.

Hundreds of black and silver eyes peered up at Nick, their cold shimmer communicating evil intent. The monster didn’t seem half as bad as they were.

Nick looked down through the wire, queasy from the swinging motion and the beating he’d undergone. Where were Barrett and Jane? Vladimir answered that question soon enough.

“The auction is postponed until after the fight. Of course,” he said with a smirk, “if the Man of Iron wins, he and the women will go free!”

That surprised Nick. He’d suspect it was a lie, only he knew vampires were biologically incapable of uttering falsehoods. Which meant, of course, that Vladimir was damn certain Nick wasn’t going to win. In truth, he didn’t believe it, either.

A roving spotlight picked out Barrett and Jane, tied to chairs and to each other. Both were gagged.

A door on the cage’s side unlatched, dragged up by a rope from high above. The cage tilted. Nick was dumped out onto a stage set.

A woman who looked like the “Sam” Barrett had described came strolling down the runway, her long dress whispering against her silken legs. The metallic fabric caught the light and reflected it out into the crowd when the roving spotlight hit her. She turned and struck a pose, extending one leg and displaying a garter, which she slid up and down her toned thigh to the cheers of the crowd. Then she started to sing, getting louder and louder, making them beg for an encore. She obliged with a classic show tune, putting a fresh spin on the lyrics.

“My heart belongs to Vladdy! Oh yes it does!”

She walked on to where Nick had been dumped, teasing him, working the crowd, which roared with laughter. She dragged him up with the strength of a man, Nick thought groggily.

Sam’s long fingers moved over his fly, cupping and squeezing. She splayed her hand, digging her red fingernails into the material of his pants.

“Should I?” she purred. The small crowd howled a collective yes. She slid the button out of the buttonhole at the top of his fly. Then she plucked at the zipper tab.

She wasn’t the stripper.
He
was. Or the strippee. He couldn’t think. The beating he’d taken from Vlad and his goons was clouding his mind again.

Little by little, she pulled the zipper down, then slid her hand inside his pants, curving her fingers around the front of his briefs and pulling out the heavy flesh of his still-hidden cock and balls. She rested them on the vee of his open fly.

“Don’t they say the low-hangin’ fruit tastes best?” Her sultry voice was so resonant it reached the back rows. “And don’t those hang nice?”

Dazed, he wondered where she’d learned to make herself heard without a mike. A church choir, maybe. The lady could sing. It made sense in a weird way. Nothing else did. Nick heard catcalls and jeers inside waves of noise. It was hard for him to tell how many were watching.

Sam kept toying with him. Then she pressed her face to his as if she wanted to kiss him. Her slick lips never touched his skin. Jesus. Of course not. His mind began to focus.

This was an act, even if she was making it up as she went along, and she wasn’t going to mess up her flawless makeup as she sent him to his doom. Barrett thought of Sam as an ally. Was she playing Vlad or had she been playing them? Fucking bitch. If it weren’t for the metal cuffs biting into his ankles and wrists, he’d send her sailing.

Sam flirted with the audience, giving them what they’d come to see. She slid her body against his, up and down, nearly squatting on her high-heeled platform shoes and slithering up again. She pressed against him, regaining eye contact. She was more than tall enough. Her body heat was bringing him back to a semblance of life.

Spectacular rack, he thought dazedly. Strangely firm.

Her hips ground against his. Hard and fast. Nick suddenly realized what else Sam had beneath that dress.

She was trans. Pre-op trans with a fully functional cock. Had Barrett known?

“Take what I’m giving you, white boy!

The audience laughed raucously and echoed her.
“Take it!”

Sam’s lips reached his ear. She breathed into it. Licked the outer rim. Pushed his hair back and thrust the tip of her tongue into it so the appreciative onlookers could see.

Her hands were just as busy.

Nick tuned out his awareness of her grabs and rough caresses. It was all he could do. Then he realized that Sam was talking to him while her tongue was moving. In a much lower register.

“Listen to me and listen good,” she muttered. “You gonna need this in the cage.”

Her hand slid down inside his briefs, rubbing him up and down with her palm flat to his skin. Nick felt smooth metal press against his groin and the unmistakable edge of some kind of blade. Placed just within reach of his bound hands.

Sam moved her lips to his other ear, undulating against him and keeping up the show while talking to him in the same low voice.

“That’s my lucky shiv. It’s covered in liquid nitrogen and it’s also sharper than fuck. You need to cut out Vlad’s heart and burn it.”

Nick’s body jerked. Sam was indeed an ally. She’d just told Nick how to kill a born vampire. It reeked of not so much trust as desperation. She hadn’t told Barrett how it was done but now that Nick had been captured …

“Thank you,” he muttered.

“You can thank me by killing Vlad. But fight standing or you’ll cut off your dick. And that would be a crying shame. It’s a real nice dick.”

Grinning, Sam withdrew her hand and waved at her fans, ostentatiously licking her glossy lips.

“He’s giving me something I can
feel
!” she shouted. “The boy is
blessed
!” She held her index fingers far apart to indicate exactly how blessed Nick was. “Wish I could rip off his clothes right now!”

Roars of laughter.

Sam strutted around him, fondling whatever she could reach.

“Should I keep on?” she asked the onlookers. “Or should I quit? I just don’t know. Tell me, people. Make some
noise
!”

Incoherent responses, for and against.

“Guess I have to stop,” Sam declared loudly, fluttering her fake eyelashes with mock regret. She stuffed his junk back into his jeans and zipped them up. “If I make him come right here and right now, he won’t have no fight left in him.”

She patted Nick’s face, stroking the stubble, pressing her lips to his. “One last kiss,” she purred. “It could be the last one you ever get.”

He didn’t even flinch away from her kiss. Fuck his pride. He’d kiss Sam all over again once he was outta here if he needed to. Nick bit his lip until the blood flowed down his chin, willing himself to not pass out, searching for Barrett and Jane. They were out of the spotlight now, behind Vladimir, still bound and gagged.

He couldn’t lie down and die. He would fight for them. Losing was not an option.

Some flunky shoved Nick down onto the stage. To his surprise, he felt the handcuffs and shackles being unlocked. Wincing, he rubbed his wrists and sat up. Then he stood up. The cage lowered. Before it touched the stage he reached up and hauled himself into it.

The fight was on.

Murphy swung the cage. Nick tried to stand and fell on his knees. Whoever had control of the rope that closed the door forgot about it. The open door swung and banged.

An unearthly roar hurt his ears. Murphy staggered toward him.

Nick pressed his hands against his groin like he was wiping off sweat. He felt the hidden shiv. Blood seeped through the material where the sharp edge had cut him.

Murphy lunged at Nick, arms open. Nick balanced—barely. He got closer. The shiv fit into his palm, dangerously slick from his blood. His fingers gripped it and he thrust the shiv through the slack, rotten-feeling skin of Murphy’s chest and into his heart, then drew the blade completely out again. Murphy’s scabby knees buckled and he fell against the wire cage, making it swing again.

Nick kept his balance and swayed with it. Still gripping the blade, he watched Murphy take his last breath. That left Vladimir.

Nick bent his knees and made the cage swing again.

The audience was stunned into silence. A few vampires were heading for the exits. Most stayed, looking at Vladimir, loyal to their own kind.

Nick was past caring. Pure adrenaline had burned off the last of his grogginess and the visceral triumph of his win drove him on. He no longer felt pain.

Vladimir seemed to grow larger and taller as he watched Nick. He didn’t rush at him. Just waited. Sizing up his opponent and calculating his advantage.

Nick tumbled out, scrambling to his feet and heading straight for Vladimir.

He slammed into him with bone-crunching force but the vampire grabbed his wrist, stopping the blade from plunging into his chest. It was Nick who got hurt. He’d tried to tackle the living embodiment of evil, concentrated power. Vladimir was still as a statue. Only his eyes moved, boring into Nick’s with the precision of a retina scanner.

Nick felt something stir in his skull. The vampire was reading his mind. He didn’t need to guess at Nick’s strategy when his brain was an open book.

Vladimir smiled when Nick dropped the blade, clutched his head, and fell to his knees, swallowing a scream. There was a burst of noise and pain. The mind probe stopped.

Nick could see again. Barely. Barrett had somehow gotten a hand free. She held a gun and fired again. And again.

The first bullet crept out from Vladimir’s forehead, falling at his feet. Another exited his shoulder. Blood spurted uncontrollably as the second bullet reappeared. Strong as he was, the vampire had taken a hit.

The shiv. Nick felt for it. If he could slash through to the heart … tear it out bodily … and burn it while it was beating … He stood.

His hand hid the blade as he struck out with the last of his strength. The vampire’s fine white shirt gushed blood in torrents. Another bullet crawled out of his flesh.

Vladimir staggered back. The wall behind him prevented his escape. Nick reached into the jagged wound and searched for the heart.

For a second he wondered if the vampire had one. Then his big hand closed around a throbbing knot of smooth muscle. He squeezed it and Vladimir moaned. With a supreme effort, Nick yanked it from the blood vessels that moored it in the vampire’s chest. By chance the roving spotlight hit the heart as Nick held it high.

Vladimir’s comrades in blood were riveted by the sight, too appalled to seize the murderer of one of their own. Several more rose from their seats and backed away into the darkness.

Nick was taking no chances with this heart. He didn’t see Vladimir collapse as he ran toward the nearest torch. In it went.

The scorching black smoke released by the fireball and explosion had the rest of the vampires on the run. Chaos. Pandemonium. None of it bothered Nick. He prayed the drifting smoke wouldn’t harm Barrett and Jane.

He had won. He didn’t care. All he could think about was them.

Barrett was kneeling by the girl when he ran back, chopping at her wrists and then at her ankles with the dropped shiv.

How in hell had she gotten free—Nick looked around. He knew. Sam was nowhere to be seen. He hoped she’d escaped. She had to have escaped.

The crumpled body of the dead vampire lay motionless in a spreading pool of dark blood.

His heart was likely black and shriveled.

Nick ran to the woman that held
his
heart.

Barrett.

CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO

It was early morning before the scene was even close to
processed. Both army personnel and members of the FBI, including Special Agent Kyle Mahone, arrived first, containing the area and ordering some hard-core EMTs in masked biohazard suits to see to Nick.

According to Mahone, Director Rick Hallifax wanted to see both Nick and Barrett, who was also being seen by the EMTs, in his office the next day. Nick told Mahone what he thought of that idea in precise terms. Mahone just smiled and said he’d pass the message along, but that when said meeting
did
take place, Mahone planned on being there. It was time, he said, to start putting pressure on Hallifax so they could figure out just how many individual vampire-related operations he had going on.