IM02 - Hunters & Prey (26 page)

Nicholas’ hand went up, signaling a halt. We stood just at the edge of the intersection as he walked around the corner.

I peeked around to see how Nicholas would handle this situation. Just as I had expected, he strode toward them without an ounce of fear.

“Where’s Quentin?” Nicholas snarled at them. The sweet aroma of their fear instantly permeated the air.

The two men trembled as Nicholas bared his fangs and fixed them with a bone chilling stare.

“Upstairs lab,” one of the men squeaked.

I had to stifle a laugh.

Nicholas smiled; his long fangs glistened under the flickering fluorescent light of the hallway. In a blurry rush, he sank his fangs deep into the neck of one of the guards while he smashed the other one’s head into the wall.

I watched hungrily as Nicholas fed on the soldier, licking my lips.

Rozaline placed a hand on my wounded shoulder. Pain snapped me back to reality. I turned to her, and she shook her head. She didn’t need to say anything. I knew exactly what her silent warning meant: ‘I needed to keep my head straight.’

I turned back to Nicholas as he dropped the soldier to the floor. His eyes closed, and he tilted his head back. A look of deep satisfaction swept across his face as he licked the blood from his lips. “Thanks for your contribution to the cause,” he sniggered, turning to walk back to our group.

Lysander growled as Nicholas rejoined the group. “That took too long.”

I sensed the restlessness coming from the other members of our group. Crystal, Drew, and Rozaline all radiated nervous energy. It put me even further on edge.

Nicholas wiped away a drop of blood from his chin. “At least we got some information. Quentin is upstairs.”

We left the two men in a heap on the ground as we continued on. Surprisingly, the hallways were empty.
Where are all the guards?
It seemed strange that the place was left so unguarded.
What if someone walked in? What if…

“The guards are not for Quentin’s possessions, they are there to protect him.” Lysander said in a hushed voice. “They are here to stop the monsters from accidentally killing him. I am willing to bet the closer we get to Quentin, the more of these… things we will find.”

We came to the end of the hallway. Nicholas again motioned for us to halt.

Zombies, lots of them.
I could smell them reeking of death and hear them thrashing about behind a set of a large double doors. I pulled out my dagger, holding it at the ready. Their footsteps echoed as they paced back and forth. My hand tightened on the hilt of the knife.

“I’m guessing that behind that door is Quentin’s army,” Nicholas said with a deep sigh. “Mindless zombies fed off Alyssa’s blood. He’s created quite a gauntlet for us to get through. He’ll no doubt be holed up somewhere on the other side of this mob.”

Leaning my head around the corner, I saw the door chained and locked. No guards stood outside.

An eerie feeling crawled down my spine. It curled into my stomach and weakened my knees. I tried to gulp back my fear, further tightening my grip on the blade.

This seems too easy. Too simple. Something is wrong here.

Nicholas and Lysander whispered something to each other.

Lysander urged us forward. “Let’s go.”

Drew broke the chains with a quick jerk and forced the door open.

As the door swung wide, a flood of drooling, flailing men came rushing out. The shrieks were terrible. High pitched, ear shattering wails erupted from the zombie-like creatures. Their clawed hands raked at us, their intended victims.

Activity was a blur all around me. I backed toward the wall and raised my dagger, swiping it wildly around me to ward off any attacker. There were even more than I’d expected. Frantically looking around, I hoped to find some back-up as a large hulking creature bore down on me. I spotted Lysander nearby, but he was wrestling with two of the creatures. He had already removed the limb of one when another came crashing into him. They writhed and wrestled on the floor.

I swiped my blade again, catching the creature across the face as it lunged toward me. Pivoting out of the way as it crashed into the wall, I spotted Crystal. She couldn’t help me either. She was busy fending off an attack from one. Drew was cornered with three.

I turned around, spotting Nicholas and Rozaline fighting back to back, moving in slow circles as they were surrounded by a few more.

“Alyssa, watch out!” I heard someone scream, but I couldn’t tell who had said it. As I heard the words, something came crashing into me hard. Stars danced before my eyes. My world distorted. I fell, smashing into the concrete floor. A moment of blackness followed a throbbing pain in my head.

By the time my vision returned, I felt something tearing through my already wounded shoulder. I focused through the sting, seeing the head of one of the creatures latched on to me.

Like a rabid dog, the thing bit me over and over again, shredding my skin. Blood coated his face and clothes like war paint.

I struggled to roll and move; anything to gain leverage, to move this creature off of me.

Yelping, I rolled my hand free and was able to reach for my fallen dagger. I pulled it in one quick motion and stabbed and slashed blindly at my attacker.

It seemed unaffected by my attempts. Its blood splattered as the blade made contact with its skin, yet it didn’t wail or move away from the damage I was inflicting on it.

I continued to hack and slash as I writhed underneath the zombie thing. All of my companions were busy with their own beasts to slay and couldn’t help.

It tore into my neck, its teeth like razors, fraying my skin. Blood oozed from my wounds. My head became a heavy weight as weakness threatened to sink in. Only the worry of Fallon kept me going. I needed to find her. I needed to get to my friend and make sure she was okay. That thought alone gave me strength. With a surprising new vigor, I broke free from the zombie’s grasp. I used every ounce of rage inside of me to fuel my motions. As I rolled away, I brought the blade down hard and cut into the beast’s neck.

Finally the creature reacted, crying out as if it knew its final death was here. Its red bloody eyes darkened moments before its body slumped to the floor.

I caught my breath to calm my pounding heart and assessed my surroundings. Lysander still fought against one zombie. Another lay dead at his side. Nicholas and Rozaline were both attacking the last of their creatures, and Drew and Crystal still each had one left to battle with.

My arm felt sticky and wet. I turned my head, looking at my shoulder. My stomach lurched at the gruesome sight. It reminded me of ground beef, bloody and unrecognizable as its original form.

I shouldn’t have looked. Blood dripped everywhere. It was always worse when you knew exactly how bad the wounds were.
Mind over matter!
Suddenly very dizzy, I swayed where I stood, feeling the effects of my weakened body. I knew I couldn’t stand much more blood loss. I would fall into paralysis soon if I didn’t stop it.

Using the only thing I could think of, I tore my shirt and wrapped my arm as well as I could in the fabric.

A loud female scream echoed through the hallway. It wasn’t Rozaline or Crystal. I turned sharply to face the sound.

Fallon.

Dizziness dissipated as quickly as if someone had flicked a switch. Fear fueled me with adrenaline. I knew I had to go after her. Quentin could be torturing her or killing her at that very moment. I couldn’t wait. Every moment, I felt, was precious. The clan had things well enough in hand. With only a few more to fight, they should easily be able to catch up and help take down Quentin.

“I’m going after her,” I yelled back to the clan and took off, without a look back, down the hallway in search of Fallon.

CHAPTER 20

*****

D
izzy with blood loss, my brain worked in slow motion; it was fear alone that fueled me, driving me toward my purpose. Fear for Fallon. I ran blindly through the halls, not really knowing which direction to go.

A pleading wail echoed in behind me—Lysander begging for my return. I couldn’t stop. Every moment could be Fallon’s last. I knew the clan could handle the few beasts that were left. If I could handle one, young as I was, they could do it with their ancient blood.

I stopped at the intersection of two halls and sniffed the air, hoping to catch a trace of something: Fallon, Quentin, anything that might help me figure out which path to take.

My nose picked up the sweet smell of a human. From the strength of the thick aroma, I judged that the person was somewhere close by. If Nicholas was right, the human guards would be closer to Quentin, protecting him in case the zombies turned on their master. I took off in a flash, rounded the corner, and plowed into a waiting soldier. He was alone.

Like the other human soldiers we’d met earlier, this one was young—too young to be fighting someone else’s battles. He still had acne spotting his tanned, youthful face. I felt sorry for him; he’d probably been brainwashed by the Acta Sanctorum and told we were nothing but monsters. But sympathy aside, he was still a danger to me.

He wore the same pea soup-green outfit as the ones we’d met before, with the addition of a loose-fitting canvas jacket to match. This soldier, however, didn’t carry a rifle. He raised his weapon, a small handgun, and pointed the muzzle at my stomach. “A close range shot might not kill you, but it will put you on your ass long enough for me to take your head.” He sneered at me as he talked, but the slight tremble of his hands gave away his nervousness.

He was right though. A close-range shot would put an end to my rescue attempt. I needed to play along, to give him a sense of hope, make him think he had the upper hand, and distract him long enough to get his gun. I lifted my hands up in surrender, and tried to look as innocent as possible. Biting my lip, I softened my expression and let my eyes appear wide, as if I were fearful of him.

My arms trembled and I allowed my voice to crack as I spoke. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

His face softened a little, yet he still firmly held the gun at my stomach. Slowly I focused my gaze, locking on to his eyes.

I was surprised that he didn’t try to look away.
Not very well trained.
He stared intently at me, as if having a contest for dominance—a terrible mistake.

I didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that he was unsure of what to do next. His face told me that much. A slight quiver of his lips gave away his anxiety. His stony expression was nothing more than a paper mask. I reached out with my senses, delving through the windows of his eyes into his mind. I felt his fear, his anticipation. I doubt he had really expected to come face to face with an unfriendly vampire.

I let my mind go blank, releasing a wave of calm, and let that feeling flow to the soldier, enveloping him like a warm blanket.

“Please,” I said in a whisper. “Put the gun down.”

I called up all of my remaining energy and spoke the words in his mind.
Drop the gun, I won’t hurt you. Everything is okay.

It took too much of my energy, maintaining the mental connection between us. My head felt heavy from the loss of blood. I swayed where I stood, fighting to keep upright while still holding my control over the soldier.

Give me the gun.

His shoulders sagged and the gun lowered in his grasp, yet I still felt some resistance. This shouldn’t have been so tough. He was barely a man. At that moment, I knew even if I did make it to Quentin, I wasn’t going to be able to fight. I definitely needed blood.

Focusing all of my remaining energy, I intensified my controlling stare. His face finally blanked of all emotions, his eyes drooped, and his mouth softened. I’d gained the control I needed. “Give me your gun.”

He released the gun from his grip, and it fell into my awaiting hand. His sweet scent flooded the air around me, overpowering my senses. His blood called to me.

The beast inside of me cried out with need.
Just a sip
. I gave in.

I bent my head, sinking my teeth deep into his shoulder. Even though I didn’t sever a major vein with my bite, the wound gushed liquid rejuvenation. His heart beat frantically, pumping his blood into my awaiting mouth like a hot, bubbling geyser. I heard a faint whispering cry in my mind. He feared for his life.

My mind must be getting stronger.
I not only felt his terror, but could swear I heard his internal screams.

His blood was like a soothing syrup that instantly subdued the aches and pains of my wounds. It warmed me as I drank, revitalizing me. The monster inside of me urged me to drink all that I could. I was certainly tempted; I needed every drop to regain my strength, but the weakened thump of the soldier’s heart told me he would die if I did, and I had no intention of killing this misguided kid. He wasn’t a real soldier or a hardened criminal, just an unfortunate boy who had gotten mixed up with a fanatical organization.