Blood Price (15 page)

Chapter 11

The familiar mind-numbing fog that was a remnant of whatever drug they used accompanied Atar from sleep. His blurred vision made it difficult to distinguish characteristics of the room but he thought it looked antiseptic, like a hospital room.
Or a lab
, suggested a voice in his mind and it felt like the right analysis.

His vision gradually cleared, allowing him to focus. The equipment nearest him appeared to be portable imaging equipment, such as an X-ray machine, ultrasound and a C.T. scanner. An assortment of painful-looking tools on a metal rolling tray had his stomach rolling with dread. They had stripped off his clothes, save for his briefs and his skin crawled when he pictured all the things they might do to him. Torture was on their minds but he couldn’t imagine what information they wanted to extract from him.

A sound made him move his head to the left, as much as the strap across his forehead would allow. His blurry eyes widened when he saw an armed guard at the door, standing fully alert, with a gun aimed at him. Reflexively, Atar tested the straps around his wrists and ankles, finding them unbreakable in his weakened state. The man responded with a further coiling of muscles and by inching up the gun higher.

He fell still, trying to think. Completing his inspection of the room, he became convinced it was a lab, not a treatment room. There was an exotic mix of paraphernalia one didn’t usually find in a clinic or hospital room. Most of it, he had no name for and all of it alarmed him.

The bright light overhead seared his eyes when he looked straight ahead and he squinted, turning away. Once again, the guard was in his line of sight and Atar spoke in a raspy tone. “Where is Nikia?” As he spoke, he tried to hone in on Nikia’s aura but found nothing—only a black void before his mind’s eye swam hazily out of focus.

The guard didn’t respond.

“Is she alive?”

Silence.

Anger sizzled through him, helping to clear the remaining fuzziness in his mind but not sufficiently. He still couldn’t sense Nikia and didn’t know if it was a side effect of the tranq or if she was dead. “Dammit, answer me. Is the woman I was with when you bastards took me still alive?”

The guard shrugged, giving him a surly, “That is for Herr Koenig to decide.”

“Who is—”

“Shut up.” The guard waved the rifle and Atar realized it was too big to shoot standard bullets. It must hold tranquilizer darts. He let the silence lengthen between them, having no desire for another dose of sedative. He had to be mentally clear to escape and find Nikia.

He closed his eyes, trying to recall the events leading up to the moment of capture but found sections of his recollection were spotty. The last fully cognizant memory he had was of making love to Nikia. The reminiscence filled him with warmth, warding off some of the chill brought on by his state of undress and the icy temperature of the room.

His eyes snapped open when the heavy metal door swung open to the outside, admitting two armed men who immediately aimed their guns at Atar. He wanted to ask them what they thought he could do in this state but couldn’t risk provoking them. His best chance was a shift when he was alone again with the guard, unless these men had come to transport him somewhere. Then he would have to risk morphing in the presence of two men with machine guns. Either way, he didn’t want them incapacitating him.

His hastily thrown together plan of escape faded to the back of his mind when another man entered. This one was different from the soldiers surrounding him. He was old and frail, with a shock of white hair and faded blue eyes that still chilled Atar when he met them. The old man’s wheelchair motor hummed almost imperceptibly across the spotless tile floor when he approached the bed where they had strapped Atar.

His gaze was impassive, with a note of detached curiosity that made Atar feel like a pinned frog about to have its guts split open.

When the old man broke the eerie silence, his English was flawless but thick with a German accent. “You are indeed a fine specimen, Atar.”

“Who are you?”

What might have been a brief smile crossed his face, making his white mustache tremble. “Rolf Koenig is my name but what I am is a pile of putrescence, slowly rotting.”

Atar cocked a brow but didn’t respond to the man’s odd words. Apparently, Koenig required no active participation to continue.

“Old age ravages my body. Cancer devours the shell but not the essence.” His faded blue eyes burned brightly for a moment when he leaned forward in the chair, gripping the arms so tightly his age-spotted hands shook and the knuckles turned white. “That is where you come in.”

Nikia had been right. The men had come after him, for whatever purpose. He ignored the man’s ravings. “Where is the woman who was with me in Belarus? What have you done to her?”

Koenig grimaced but settled back into his chair, losing the demented gleam in his eyes. “She is unharmed. My team will evaluate her for harvesting before any decisions are made.”

Atar’s stomach rolled. “Harvesting? What the hell does that mean?”

“She is a vampire and probably a wolf-hybrid. Her blood will be useful for one of my programs. Beyond that, she may have nothing of value or she might be suitable for a breeding program.” Koenig shrugged. “She is of no interest to me right now. I have studied a hundred subjects like her.” He licked his cracked lips with a pale tongue covered in white, suggesting he suffered from thrush. “You, on the other hand, are a rare specimen. I have only had the privilege to study one other Makheet in my lifetime. I trust you will teach me more than she did.”

Fear skittered along Atar’s nerve endings, for both himself and Nikia. They had fallen into the clutches of a madman. His aim seemed to be to experiment on the rare and unusual. That he knew of the Makheet race was remarkable. That he had subjected one of Atar’s species to experimentation was almost unbelievable. After leaving his mother’s den as a youngling, as was his species’ custom, Atar had met only two other Makheet in all his fourteen hundred years. Both times, the females had come to him, transient partners tracking the pheromones he produced during a heat cycle, wanting only sexual fulfillment and possible offspring. After the mating frenzy ended, they had disappeared, returning to their dens alone.

By nature, their race lived in solitude, so it wasn’t unusual for him to have known so few of his own kind. Indeed, that he had met any other Makheet besides his mother was rare. He certainly couldn’t underestimate the danger Koenig posed if the old man had been able to find and capture two Makheet in his human lifespan.

He worked up enough saliva to wet his mouth so he could ask the question weighing most heavily on his mind. “What do you want from me?”

“Immortality.”

* * * * *

Nikia shook off the last traces of haziness left from the drug they had used to sedate her, examining the room where the men had brought her, leaving her lying on the stone floor. She shivered at the chill seeping into her body, grateful for the wool clothing her deceitful cousin had provided. Forcing her mind from her discomforts, Nikia rose to a sitting position, surprised she wasn’t handcuffed. No one stood guard inside the small stone room to ensure she remained where she’d been put. There were no windows to escape from, so she eased toward the door in a stealthy crouch, not wanting to attract the attention of anyone who might be standing on the other side.

The door was thick metal but with a viewing glass. With exaggerated caution, Nikia eased herself into a standing position to peek out the window, expecting the glass to be one-way and not allow her a view of the hallway. It was frosted but not so obscured that she couldn’t see vague shapes. Rather, the lack of shapes standing by the door when she craned her neck. No one awaited her in the hallway either.

She frowned, knowing it was too easy. There was something she was missing but what?

Still puzzling over the situation, Nikia touched the smooth silver panel of the gray door, where a handle hung on the other side. She pushed lightly, testing the door’s strength. It didn’t budge, so she pushed more forcefully, putting all of her weight against it. The door rocked slightly and Nikia cried out in agony as an electric charge surged into her body. The current sizzled through her, even her teeth and she tried to wrench away her hand, only to have spikes protrude from the seemingly smooth panel, keeping her from withdrawing.

New pain spread through her when the spikes speared her flesh. From the burning pain, she knew they were silver. This room must have been designed to hold in a werewolf or hybrid.

She was screaming with agony when the charge abruptly cut off and the spikes retracted. She fell to the stone floor, cradling her burning hands against her stomach, sobbing. A computerized voice said, “The preceding was a demonstration. Repeated attempts at escape will result in an escalation of voltage.”

Crazily, Nikia half-expected the impersonal voice to wish her a pleasant day but it faded away, leaving only her soft sobs and harsh breathing to break the silence. She inched away from the door and lifted her hands away from her stomach to examine them under the light provided by the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. The holes were already healing, although the wounds were nasty. The spikes must have been tipped only, instead of being solid silver. Otherwise, the punctures wouldn’t close so rapidly.

Her strength was returning, although her teeth still ached from the shock she had taken. The stone wall provided rough support for her back when she summoned enough strength to drag herself over to rest against it. Her head buzzed with an agony different from the migraines that had plagued her. This was sheer pain, a remnant of the warning issued by the security system.

She stared at the door broodingly, wondering how she might escape. There were no windows, as she had previously discovered. The only thing besides bare stone was an old blanket in one corner that appeared to be older than she was. No way was she touching it.

Nikia was still mulling over the situation when she heard a scraping sound outside the door. Acting on instinct, she dropped to the floor in a heap, positioning her head so she could peer through eyes narrowed to slits when someone opened the door cautiously. She didn’t move, waiting for them to come deeper into the room. The first person through the door was a big man in fatigues. He had a pistol in the holster strapped to his thigh but carried no rifle or other weapons.

Her eyes wanted to widen when she saw a short man in a white lab coat entering the room behind the soldier, holding a sleek rod before him. A crackle of blue at the tip indicated it held a charge of electricity. His timid demeanor bolstered her courage. She let her gaze subtly scrutinize the other man, discounting the small one as a threat.

The soldier had a deep voice, with an accent that sounded similar to Anca’s. He might hail from New York, in America. “Don’t be a pussy, Jaharra. She’s out.”

He had a prissy voice to match his demeanor, thick with an accent unfamiliar to Nikia. “Might I remind you she is a vampire, Del Torro? She has the strength of several humans.”

Del Torro shrugged. “She’s a woman.”

“Don’t be a chauvinist. She is a threat to both of us.”

His laugh was derisory. “Some threat. She ain’t even conscious.” He smirked, taking a step closer to where Nikia lay. “I’m not worried. I’m undergoing the bloodsucker treatment, remember?”

A wheezy breath escaped Jaharra. “You’ve only had one exposure to the enzyme, not a direct bite from one of them. You’re no vampire hybrid yet.” His voice turned shrill when Del Torro took several more steps toward Nikia. “Watch out, now. Let me shock her before you transport her.”

Del Torro waved a meaty hand as he knelt beside Nikia, who concentrated on keeping her breathing even and squeezed her eyes shut before catching more than a glance at his slab-like face and short buzz cut. “There’s no need.” The leer was obvious in his tone when he added, “Besides, I want to see her face…maybe the rest of her before you mad scientists drain her.”

Nikia’s insides writhed at his words, both at the horror of having him touch her and fear of what the procedure of draining might entail. It was a struggle to remain limp when Del Torro’s hands fastened on her arms. She didn’t move as he rolled her on her back and leaned over her, close to her face.

He whistled through his teeth. “She’s a looker. Any chance she’ll go in the breeding program? I wouldn’t mind pairing with her.”

Jaharra’s voice dripped sanctimonious superiority when he replied. “Herr Koenig will determine what’s to be done with her. Should she be a breeder, you will not be paired with her. You have nothing unique to bring to the program. You’re just a human receiving gene therapy with small quantities of vampire DNA. We hardly need to breed a half-human, half-vampire mongrel.”

“Then this is my only chance. You going to be a man and have a turn or do you need to go powder your face while I spend some quality time with her?”

“You’re disgusting. There’s no time. Once Herr Koenig finishes evaluating the Makheet specimen, he’ll want to examine this one—”

“The old fucker will be all night with his new toy.” Del Torro bent closer, until his mouth was over Nikia’s and his foul breath washed across her face. It wasn’t truly foul, smelling of coffee and spearmint but there was a less tangible odor to him. Perhaps it was the essence of iniquity seeping through his pores and saliva.

She barely held in a gag when he touched his lips to hers, grunting in passion. Hoping for a better moment, when he would be vulnerable, she tried to stay still when he squeezed her breast. If he didn’t stop soon, she was going to have to act anyway, just to get him away from her.

His mouth hardened on hers, trying to pry her lips apart. His tongue squirmed across her lips, like a wriggling worm, seeking entrance to her mouth. She exhaled, letting her mouth soften. It took every ounce of willpower to hold down the bile when his tongue swept into her mouth, going almost to the back of her throat, to explore her moist recesses.

She bit down suddenly, with as much force as possible, trapping his tongue between her teeth. He tried to scream but couldn’t manage any volume. His grunts were an obscene parody of the passionate ones he had issued just moments earlier and he struggled to pull away.

Nikia opened her eyes, meeting his terrified blue ones. Rage underlay the fear and she knew if he got loose, he would do his best to kill her. She wrapped her arms around him, digging her nails into the back of his neck while continuing to bite. Blood filled her mouth, exaggerating her gag reflex. She had no desire to feed on him. He tasted foul, not sweet and coppery.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Jaharra lunge forward with the rod extended, evidently finally gathering enough courage to act. As the prod approached, she rolled, taking Del Torro with her, cradling him close, as if embracing a lover. When he was between her and the rod, she let go of his tongue and shoved him away from her, toward the prod, while breaking physical contact with him.

Del Torro screamed when the electricity surged through him and his body spasmed.  Jaharra withdrew it as quickly as possible but not in time to keep the soldier from feeling some of its effects.

Nikia got to her feet, approaching Jaharra carefully. He stood staring at her with a shocked expression. Feebly, he brought up the stick, shaking it at her but his movements lacked coordination and the rod fell to the floor. His eyes widened when he found himself defenseless.

Nikia watched him eye the stick and then the door, waiting to see which he would go for. He was closer to the prod but cowardice must have urged him to flee rather than confront. He broke into a gangly run and she had little trouble intercepting him before he reached the door. He squawked with fright when she grabbed him around the nape of the neck and dragged him backward.

“Please.” He might have said something else but if so, it was lost in his incoherent whimpers when Nikia forced him to the floor beside Del Torro. He lay there trembling while she scooped up the rod and approached him. A stain spread across the crotch of his charcoal slacks when she stood over him, bringing the wand close to his chest.

“Vampire setting…too strong…” He covered his eyes with his arm. “Don’t kill me.”

She couldn’t muster sympathy when she touched the blue flame to his white coat. His body jerked and spasmed as Del Torro’s had and he slumped to the floor. As soon as he was completely down, she withdrew the prod.

Visual examination revealed both of their eyes fluttering under their lids. They were stunned but not dead. She relieved Del Torro of his sidearm before turning to the other one, bending to search his pockets, hoping for a set of keys. Instead, she found a magnetic identification card clipped to Jaharra’s coat and pocketed it before leaving the stone room. Nikia peeked into the hallway to ensure no one lurked there before stepping out, wincing at the chill stone against her bare feet. She thought about going back in to borrow shoes from one of the two men passed out on the floor but reconsidered. She lacked time and doubted either of their shoes would fit her. Del Torro had huge feet and Jaharra’s were smaller than hers.

She used the magnetic card to close and lock the door, feeling a twinge of satisfaction at turning the tables on them. She paused long enough to expel several mouthfuls of bloody spit onto the floor, until her saliva was clear again. The unpleasant taste remained but there was nothing she could do about it.

With exaggerated caution, Nikia set off down the hallway leading to a pair of swinging metal doors at the end. The place was like a combination castle and hospital but she doubted any beneficial treatments went on here, judging from what Jaharra and Del Torro had revealed.

She had to find Atar. No telling what they were doing to him. He had been the target of the soldiers’ acquisitions and obviously the focal point of interest in this madhouse. She didn’t think he would be alone in a room, left unguarded save for an automated security system. No doubt, soldiers surrounded him, while the mysterious Herr Koenig “examined” him. She shuddered, imagining what that might entail.

She set as fast a pace as she could while still being careful. She still remembered the man who had held her so easily during the kidnapping. He must be one of the hybrid experiments Jaharra mentioned. She had no desire to run into him or another like him while trying to rescue Atar. He was too strong and she was still weak from banishing Illiana. Fortunately, her mother no longer blunted her senses. They were awake and leading her to Atar. She could feel him calling to her so clearly it was as if he was screaming her name in her mind.