Min's Vampire (63 page)

Delia knew what was about to happen
before it actually did. But she was impressed nonetheless. Grave
dirt all over the graveyard started to churn, rotting heads and
hands erupted everywhere as the dead gained access to the night
air, and freedom.

They were animated, yet uncontrolled.
Maybe Delia wouldn’t have to turn the blood-sack, maybe the freshly
raised zombies would take care of Delia’s problems for her. No way
for Gabriel to blame her for his precious Lucy being eaten by her
own creations.

Delia felt a voyeuristic thrill,
watching the two girls tremble and scream in horror.

But then a sharp spear of light caught
Delia’s eye. Entering the zombie littered graveyard was the
blood-sack’s doddering old grandmother. But she was running toward
the two girls, swinging a baseball bat that gleamed with power.
Every time she touched one of the zombies they fell over, shocked
and disoriented—yet not returned to the ground. No, the old woman
didn’t have the power her granddaughter did… but she had skill and
control the other might… no, would never have.

Delia watched as the older woman took
charge of the situation, and with remarkable skill used her own
granddaughter’s considerable powers to lay to rest every last one
of the zombies. It was impressive. Maybe even more impressive than
her granddaughter’s near fatal raising of the graveyard.

Delia waited patiently as the old
woman chewed her young charges out—making the little Goth-chick
witch cry, her tears streaking her face with mascara rivulets. But
in the blink of an eye she started to soothe her, as Delia had
watched countless human women do over the centuries, by wrapping
her arms around her and speaking cooing lies that it wasn’t as bad
as it seemed. As always, that act fascinated her. No such thing
happened in vampire society, especially not in the house of
Tokar.

When the grandmother turned and began
to lead the witch away, Delia found her chance. The little
blood-sack had just stood up when Delia streaked across the
graveyard at her. The first blow slammed her to the ground,
knocking her unconscious with no more than a breathy yelp. Delia
had her thrown over her shoulder and was already out of the
graveyard before either the witch or grandmother could turn
around.

~*~

She could’ve simply dragged her all
the way to their destination, yet Delia wanted to conserve her
energies. Turning a human to vampire took a lot of blood out of a
vampire, and thus much energy. And what if the little blood-sack
had some tricks up her sleeve still?

No, she had her wickedly fast sports
car only a few blocks away. Dropping Lucy in the trunk, Delia
angled herself behind the wheel and drove like hell out of the
sleepy little town of Four Corners and streaked through the night,
north to Onyx.

The house was on the edge of the small
town, bordered by forest on all sides. It had been in her family
for ages, and was a well-kept secret. Once inside the house Delia
knew her plan was as good as accomplished. She had nothing more to
fear. Once in the house, any member of the Tokar clan was safe.
Just close the door, insert the black onyx key and turn the lock.
The house wards sealed with the most powerful of magicks. Not even
another member of the Tokar family could get in, no less an
enemy.

No less a foul-hearted letch like
Gabriel.

No, no werewolf could ever make it
through the mystical wards that steeped these walls.

Delia tossed the little blood-sack on
the floor and drew herself up a seat. After a few minutes of
waiting she gave the blood-sack a non-too-gentle nudge with the toe
of her boot. Nothing. Humans were just so… fragile. Too bad. Delia
was in the mood to play. But she could be patient. She had all the
time in the world to bring the little blood sack over. The basement
of the house even had a dirt floor, so she could wait out the
change in its entirety in the safety of the house.

The scent of the little human’s blood
wafted up and made Delia’s mouth water. Maybe it was because the
little blood-sack was a necromancer, but her blood held an
intoxicating aroma. Delia had planned on messing up her face quite
a bit before turning her. There were ways—there was a silver knife
she could use, once her heart stopped, and after the vampire blood
had started to take hold—to guarantee some rather nasty
scars.

Either way, Delia would taste that
lovely blood.

She would just have to
wait.

Chapter 17

LUCY’S MOUTH FELT STICKY, the coppery
taste of her own blood making her nauseous. She moved her head
first—a cacophony of pain ricocheted through her skull like a
bullet. She moaned, reaching up to hold her head. She felt
something wet and sticky, and pulled her hand away. She opened her
eyes and saw that her hand was painted red with blood.

Oh god...

She felt her body shake as she lowered
her hands and looked around at where she was. A house, dimly lit
and sparsely furnished. The smell of old blood and decay pressed in
on her. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light she saw large,
strange symbols drawn on the walls. The windows were all bricked
up, letting in no light from the outside.

Lucy turned to check out the wall
behind her and jerked back reflexively when she saw her—Delia—not
two feet away, sitting still as a statue in a straight back chair.
The chair was made of black wood, with intricate carvings of leaves
and fruit, the feet fashioned into lion claws. The sight of Delia,
so close, her eyes as terribly cold as ever, made Lucy cry out,
made her lurch away and scramble clumsily to her feet and stagger
away from the vampire.

Delia canted her head, watching Lucy’s
progress intently.

“
What do you want?” Lucy’s
voice sounded hoarse and feeble to her. “How did I get here?” And
before she finished the question she flashed back to the graveyard,
her grandmother and Abbey walking away, and then...

And then Superbitch here
tackled me!

Delia patiently sat in her chair as
Lucy tried to shake off the effects of the head wound which had
left her unconscious in the first place. Lucy could feel where
Delia had hit her, like she’d been hit by a baseball bat, and just
touching it made her eye feel like it was about to pop right out of
its socket.

Delia just sat there, staring, not
uttering a word, a small smile playing at the edges of her mouth.
Her makeup was minimal: eyeliner and mascara, a hint of silvery eye
shadow, and that smirking mouth accented by iridescent pink
lipstick. Added to that she wore a sleeveless black silk blouse and
matching skintight leather pants; she looked like a very pretty
monster.

Standing, the room started to pitch
and spin on Lucy. She felt like she was about to barf. She clamped
the hand not covered in blood to her mouth, and choked back what
wanted to come out. Squinting shut her eyes, she forced herself to
breathe. After a moment the world felt like it had finally stopped
spinning.

To Lucy’s surprise, Delia was still
sitting patiently in the chair—hadn’t moved a muscle, and she still
had that stupid smile on her face.

Lucy staggered away from the vampire,
her sneakers making little squeaking sounds as she fell against a
wall, and then seeing the front door she ran straight for it. She
slammed against the thick, unforgiving wood and clawed at the door
knob. It wouldn’t budge. She searched with her eyes and with her
fingers for a latch, finding only a key hole.

A dead bolt… emphasis on
dead…

Lucy pushed the thought out of her
mind. She couldn’t afford to freak out, not now, not when she was
locked in a house with a deranged vampire that hated her
guts.

I’m so screwed!

Just then Delia rounded the corner and
walked with a graceful gait right up to Lucy. She stopped about two
feet away, and sniffed the air. “I love your perfume… oh, wait…
that’s not perfume… it’s fear.”

“
Stay away from me!” Lucy
shrieked.

“
Did you know,” Delia said
thoughtfully, “you can taste fear in blood? It’s like adding curry
spice to the mix… but better.”

Lucy gasped when she saw Delia’s teeth
slide down into place with a snick, lethally sharp and white as
snow. But then she felt that wonderfully familiar heat rage in her
skull again, smothering the pain, and leaving her suddenly pissed
off instead of scared stiff.

“
You skank! Where do you get
off?” Lucy leaned forward meeting Delia’s sinister gaze. “Sure, I
might have kissed your boyfriend once—”

“
I saw you with him just
tonight,” Delia said in an even tone. “A porch is hardly a private
place.”

Okay, that
sucks…

“
Multiple times, then,” Lucy
amended. “But don’t forget this was all your idea in the first
place. If you’re looking for someone to blame, look in a
mirror.”

Delia shot Lucy with a look
that screamed,
You moron!

“
Okay, so you can’t actually
see yourself in a mirror, but you know damn well what I’m talking
about.” Lucy stood up straighter and stared the vampire down again.
“Plus, you must be plain stupid. Last time—” Lucy stopped and
thought. Last time she could control Delia… sort of. But she had
tired quickly. If it hadn’t been for Gabriel jumping in, she’d been
vampire tender vittles.

“
Last time what?” Delia
said, looking curious and psychotic.

Lucy took a deep breath, focused on
the annoyed heat burning in her head. “Open the door.” She
automatically felt her power radiate out from her, and with it a
large chunk of her physical strength abandoned her.

Delia leaned forward looking at Lucy
with faux confusion. “Can you say that bit again? I didn’t quite
hear you.”

Lucy gritted her teeth, pulling up her
power around her, felt it scorch and lick out of her hot and angry.
“Let me out of this house, you nasty bitch!”

Again Lucy felt herself weaken. She
staggered backward into the wooden door, gasping.

Delia looked as if she were pondering
Lucy’s command, rolling it around in her mouth as if tasting the
very words. “Nope,” she said with a cheerful chirp. “Don’t
wanna.”

Lucy felt the icy fingers of shock and
realization climb up her spine. She could call up an entire
graveyard of zombies, and she’d been able to control Delia before.
What was different now?

The house,
Lucy thought.
The house
and all those weird ass markings on the walls.

“
Come on Luce…”—Lucy gulped.
Delia had heard Gabriel call her that. And now, hearing it come out
of the vampire’s mouth, made Lucy cringe—“Want to try that once
more with feeling?”

“
It’s the house, isn’t it?
The creepy markings on the walls.”

“
Now you’re getting it.”
Delia paced around her, her eyes laughing. “Guess you’re not as
dumb as I thought.”

The annoyed heat flashed in her head
again, “Well, I knew it couldn’t be you.”

Delia’s face turned hard and
angry.

“
I mean, you didn’t paint
all these marks. This is just somewhere you knew about. Some secret
safe house your family owns. You probably have the mystical power
of a doily.”

Delia smiled again. “Safe? No, this
house is anything but safe.” She chuckled as she spread her arms
out to encompass the entire building. “This is a house of
interrogation, a house of torture.”

Lucy gulped reflexively. She didn’t
want to know any more about the house. And she certainly didn’t
want to imagine the torture visited within these walls. She
especially didn’t want to think about what kinds of torture this
wacked out vamp would like to dole out on her.

“
But you’re right,” Delia
said. “It is the markings that keep your filthy little trick from
working on me again. And no, I didn’t have anything to do with the
magic of this place. The markings are old magic, the kind you don’t
see much anymore. And they’re very specific. They make
everything—except vampires—powerless within the confines of these
walls.”

“
I knew it.” Lucy waved her
hand dismissively.

“
Even though I’m one hundred
percent sure what kind of power you actually have—I’m guessing
you’re a necromancer—I’m sure you’re not going to be able to
overcome them.”

Lucy’s mind was practically sprinting
through all the thoughts swirling through her mind. If Delia had
wanted to kill her, then she could’ve just done it while she was
passed out. Why the whole kidnapping bit? Why drag her all the way
to this hexed house?

“
So… you’re just going to
keep me locked up in this house?” Lucy scowled at her captor.
“’Cause if you are, I’d like a TV, with cable… and some better
furniture.”

“
What are you—?”

“
And you’re going to have to
call for pizza or something... no, make that Chinese,” Lucy
continued as if she was dictating orders to her personal assistant.
“I’m dying for an egg roll, and some sweet and sour
chicken.”

“
What the hell are you
talking about?” Delia shrieked.