Mistwalker (8 page)

A burning sting swelled in her thigh, and she stumbled, but didn’t stop. Not until her legs were too leaden to move. The doors were so close. “Lift your feet, Simone,” she yelled at herself. “Scream for help. Heeeelllp…” Her voice tapered to a whisper. “Run, run…” Tears leaked down her cheeks. “Don’t let them get you. Not again.”

A long yellow dart stuck out of her thigh, piercing straight through her gown. Her vision fogged. Everything rushed forward.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” Vaughn crouched down beside her, his boots crunching on the bits of loose gravel near her left cheek. “He said you’d put up a fight.” Vaughn frowned and held up the tranq gun.
“The prince of understatement. Thought Klaus would be enough of an insurance policy. I think you killed him.”

She leaned up and lashed her right hand around his neck. Darkness forged an all-out assault over her senses, but her thumb jabbed into his windpipe, trying to rip it out.

He dug his fingers beneath her grip. “Wait,” he gargled and gripped her arm. “Don’t. Klaus…I’m…” He tried to angle the gun into her skin again.

The skin stretched across her arm to an unbearable tightness. She brought up her other hand, though both arms felt dead. They stared into each other’s eyes. In these last moments, she knew that no matter what happened she would not let go of the bastard. They would die together.

He fell against her, and she gritted her teeth until darkness blanketed her in a sudden, shifting oblivion.

Chapter
Nine

White light penetrated Simone’s eyelids with razor sharpness, and she moaned. The light finally moved and darkness eased the throb inside her skull.

“She’s made the turn, Sire,” a robotic voice announced.

What turn? A turn for the worse? Some sixth sense warned her to keep her eyes closed rather than find out the unwelcome answer.

“Hello?” The light came and went, came and went.
“Anyone there?”

Nausea stampeded in her stomach, and she fought down the urge to vomit.

“She’s turning green all right,” a female voice said. “Vaughn, get that flashlight out of her face before I bean you with it. Juliun’s going to be madder than hell. He’ll fade you into the middle of the Sahara Desert. Actually, maybe keep doing that. I’ve always wondered what you’d look like with a suntan.”

Vaughn chuckled.
“Funny as hell, as always, Maddy. But you should have seen her take on Klaus.” A hint of awe shadowed his voice. “I’m going to have nightmares. I’ve never seen anyone kick quite like that.”

“Shame I missed it,” Maddy said.

“You are fortunate Alec had the antidote.” Latent fury laced the words that pounded into the room.

Maddy laughed. “Here he is.”

Simone’s head rocked to the side, and her eyelashes fluttered. She would recognise Juliun’s voice anywhere. Her hands scrambled at the armrests, but her bare feet wouldn’t grip on the floor. She jerked her wrists, struggling to stand.

Juliun towered over her, once again dressed in an expensively tailored suit. No blood this time. His dark brows were lowered over his star-lit eyes. “Release her at once.”

“Uh, I would do so, Your Highness, but the king has requested the chains stay,” Vaughn said, looking past Juliun to someone else. “I’m grateful for it.”

Juliun frowned and swivelled to the old man seated at a long desk at the front of the room. “Is this true?”

The old man nodded. “Sanchez found them all passed out in the hospital parking lot. If the sun had come up, she could have killed them all. This is a small precaution for the safety of the others.”

Vaughn laughed. “Any safeguard is
good
.” He raised his fingers in an air quote and stared mockingly at Juliun. “She will put up a fight.” He shook his head with a harsh laugh. “Klaus is still in the clinic.”

The forbidding expression on Juliun’s face didn’t fade, and he spun back to Simone. “Do not fight the chains. You will be released soon, I promise.” The look in his eyes was stark with determination. “It could be no other way with you.”

She stared at the thick, black chains wound around her arms and legs, and horror welled with her every breath. Her legs and arms shook. “What do you want from me?” she asked with a shriek. “Who are you?”

His gaze shone with suppressed emotion. “I will tell you all you need to know in due time. You are safe here.”

She never got the chance to ID this psycho. She should have trusted her instincts and not followed Vaughn out of the hospital, knowing all too well life destroyed those who didn’t think twice. This was it. She was going to die in this room.

There were worse places.

Guards dressed in military style uniform lined the entire room. They held crossbows of all things and aimed straight for her heart. Antique lamps cast a clear bright light across the mahogany desk and expansive shelves lining the back wall. Two people sat at the desk, an elderly man with icy grey eyes, and a woman with blonde hair, brown eyes and glowing skin. Juliun glided over to join them as if he truly belonged.

He must have had a spy at the hospital, Simone realised. How else could he have come up with the subterfuge to kidnap her?

“What do you want from me?” She jerked forward, but the chains held, and her arms ached. She was so hungry and weak, she wasn’t thinking straight. How could she possibly break through chains?
Use your head.

Three guards stood by the left wall. The door was beside them. If only she could get there. Vaughn from her kidnapping moved to block the way though, and he sported a purpled bruise from his forehead to his right ear and long, red finger marks around his neck. Satisfaction rippled through her. Those bruises wouldn’t fade anytime soon. She had to get to that door.

Along the right wall, a dark-haired man lounged in an easy chair, and a blonde woman sat on the arm. They smiled and sharp incisors slid out of their upper gums.

“Nice work,” the woman said, giving Simone
a cheeky thumbs up. She jerked her head toward Vaughn.

Simone jolted back in the chair and swallowed. Those teeth were
fake. Had to be. This whole situation was insane. “What are you, some kind of cult into biting and kidnapping? It’s big of you to tie up a woman. What is it, twenty against one?”

The blonde rose from the desk and walked around the men with a smooth grace. “Hello, Simone. I am Lissanne, Juliun’s mother. I will answer your questions, but first you must tell us what you have told the police. It is not our intention to hurt you, but we need to know. Have you given them an ID sketch yet?”

“Mother—” Juliun went to stand, his hands flattened on the desk. “That is not…”

 
Lissanne stopped and looked him full in the face. Some kind of silent communication passed between the two, for he nodded and sat down again, then she moved around to the front of the desk.

“I know you want answers. There is no way to tell you other than straight out. I think you’d prefer that. You have more strength and speed than before, yes? And you recovered so quickly from your injury. Did you think that normal?”

Simone’s eyes widened. What the hell was this woman trying to say?

“Now, will you answer our questions?” Lissanne asked. “I give
you my word there will be no repercussions. We simply wish to know. I understand, even if others do not, that you must be terrified.”

Simone shifted in the chair and glared at the woman. “I’m not telling you anything. Your…son, who by the way, you did such a
great job
of raising, attacked us the night my friend and I wound up in hospital with a chunk of our skin missing. And, oh yeah, she’s still in a coma. I’ve been kidnapped and chained to a freaking chair!” She clenched her fists, one part of her they hadn’t restrained. “Where’s your dirty friend? It’s a shame he had to miss out on the reunion.” Simone gave a half hysterical laugh. “Your promises mean squat to me.”

Lissanne nodded. “Perhaps if I showed you that you may trust me? Clear up some of the mystery?” She curled back her upper lip, and her small, pearly white teeth morphed into long canines with tiny points. “We are vampires, my dear. When you hit Juliun, an exchange of blood occurred, and you became one of us.”

Everything slowed to an arctic freeze. Slush coursed through Simone’s veins. Her heart stopped. She didn’t believe in vampires, they were a myth perpetuated by Goth-like wannabes looking for a pigeon hole of power. Real fear pounded in her gut. “I don’t believe you.”

“Go over the facts,” Lissanne urged. “You managed to best Klaus, a man at least five times your size.”

“You don’t know me very well if you think that’s strange.” Simone tugged on the chains, and the metal sliced into her skin. “Release me.”

“As a race,” Lissanne continued with a smile, “we have the ability to heal fast which was the first sign that led us toward the idea that you had turned. Of course, Vaughn has given us new information. It is our understanding that you stared at the blood bags he stole from the hospital with great interest.”

Simone’s stomach grumbled at the memory of the clear bags filled with dark red fluid. It wasn’t the sight of them that made her stop and stare, but the smell. She closed her eyes now, and the scent still clung to her nose, like a thousand of her most favourite things combined into one to drive her crazy.

How could she like,
love
, want the smell of blood? “Vampires are supposed to be dead. Corpses who suck on the living.” Her gaze swung to Juliun. “No,” she whispered.

His intense gaze locked on hers. “We are not corpses, but Lars needed blood. He would have died, and he could not feed from me.”

“So you just picked two women off the street? I’ve never been so disgusted in all my life. My best friend is in a coma because of you,” she accused.

“There’s an easier way to convince her.” The dark-haired man lounging in the easy chair rose in a blur and floated over to a cabinet. He plucked a
wine bottle from a silver canister.

Simone blinked, not believing her eyes that there was at least a hand’s space between his shoes and the floor. She yanked at the chains again and again, until a trickle of blood coated the thick metal links.

He poured the liquid into a carafe and then grabbed down a crystal wine glass from a shelf. Blood flowed inside the crystal, swirling against the sides of the glass.

Red.
Red.
She closed her eyes, gulped and released a groan. How could a smell do this to her? She didn’t like anything to do with blood and hated any pink in her steak. But her tongue felt dry as a desert, stuck to the roof of her mouth.

The man threw back his head and downed the drink.

Her breath left her in a whoosh. She rocked her chair closer to the desk, her gaze glued to him. Sweat sprung out across her brow.

He refilled the glass and held it out to her with one long arm. He swirled the glass, and the liquid revolved around the interior.
A whirlpool of red delight. “It’s warm. Want some?”

She could smell the blood; it obliterated everything else inside the room. The scent became a colour, a fog, all she could acknowledge. Skin stretched tight across her entire body. “No. No, I don’t.” She eyed the decanter on the desk, filled with the luscious smelling liquid. Oh, how she wanted to drink it all, but maybe that was another form of mind control? Was she too weak to even resist?

“Yes, you do. Stop fighting the truth,” Juliun spoke harshly and turned to the man. “Sanchez, bring the carafe to me.”

“I’m not touching that.” Oh, why did her voice sound so thin and weak?

Juliun appeared before her in a wash of black mist. He solidified, and the sudden scent and sight of him made her head spin at such close range. She could almost taste the delicious fluid soothing her throat. He smelled of incense and musk, darkness and delight.

“You’re trying to control my mind again,” she moaned, and then she leaned closer to him and the blood. “Why?”

“No control.” Juliun smiled tightly. “Hunger. Thirst. Drink or I will have no choice but to pour it down your throat, love.”

He nestled the lip of the decanter against her mouth, and over the rim of the glass, her gaze locked on his. She drowned in that sea of simmering grey. All of a sudden, she felt light-headed with the horror of what she was contemplating doing, and the smell refused to go away. It lingered everywhere. Her stomach gave a terrifying growl, ready to turn itself inside out again. Pain ripped through her abdomen, and she cried out.

He tipped the glass at that moment, and sweet, pure liquid flowed over her tongue in a warm stream.

Heat infused her cells, and she bit down on the edge of the carafe. Pin pricks surfaced all over her skin; longing throbbed deep in her spine and built into a twisting coil. Blood dribbled down her chin, splashing into the lap of her gown.

She slanted forward, the chains digging into her skin, but the pain was non-existent compared to the fiery pleasure of nourishment.

The scent grew within her, starbursts of indescribable sweetness. She threw back her head; her lips parted, throat open, and she gulped down the rest of the blood.