Moonlight Calls (Demon's Call Series Book 1) (28 page)

The gesture
reminded me of my recent psychic exercises and I pondered the possibilities. I
knew Camilla had “borrowed” her ability to project into my mind from
Christian.  Maybe he could receive as well as send.  Maybe I could send him
some kind of radar signal.  I didn’t know if I could transmit, or only receive
messages- but it was worth a try.  After all, it looked like I had nothing
better to do.  Maybe if I focused my mind on something else I would forget to
freak out.

I sat
cross-legged on the couch, closed my eyes, and rolled my shoulders, attempting
find a comfortable position. I thought about Christian as hard as I could,
bringing every memory of him to the surface of my mind.  Then I imagined a
straight line stretching from me to him like a compass needle.  I sat back
against the cushions, chanting his name in my mind, interspersed with a “help
me” from time to time.

I had been at
this for quite a while, and my head was feeling like it was going to burst,
when I heard voices outside the door.  It was unlocked and the group of
black-clad people I’d seen on the roadside filed into the room.  I raised my
eyebrows in disbelief when I saw that they were now clad in long robes.

“Would anyone
care to tell me what the hell is going on here?”  My voice was rusty from
disuse and I paused to clear my throat.

The man who had
held the gun stepped forward and one of his flunkies closed the door, locking
it again. I still wasn’t feeling any auras from them and I concluded, in shock,
that they really were humans.  I had never expected to be attacked by my own
kind.

The leader, a
tall, silver haired man, looked me over with shrewd brown eyes.  “We know that
you consort with the vampire,” he stated flatly.  “We wish for you to tell us
your secrets.  How is it that you attract the demon?  Why does he keep you
alive?”

I stared at him
with my mouth agape.  My first instinct- to laugh- was dying. I wondered how
the hell they had seen me with Dominic.  I never left my home with him and he
was pretty discrete about coming to me.  The only people I ever went out with
were Ailis and Christian.  Then I realized what they were talking about.  I
laughed.  It was really ironic when you thought about it.

“He’s not a
vampire,” I stated truthfully. I didn’t know what kind of drugs they were on,
but if I was a crazy human Satanist looking for vampires, Christian- tall,
dark, powerful, scary Christian- would certainly fit the description.

“Don’t lie to us
woman,” the head honcho said scathingly.  “We have seen you with him, and yet
you live.  What is your secret?  We need to find a way to draw the creatures to
us in order to cleanse their scourge from the earth.”

I stifled
another laugh.  I would love to tell them my secret. 
They just sort of come
to me,
I thought wryly.  Instead I looked at him with my best frightened
school girl face and asked “Who are you people?  Please, just let me go.”

I even managed a
tear, though it was more from restrained laughter than fear.  These people
obviously lived in a land of make-believe.  I had read about their ilk.  They
were the ones that believed in magic and demons and performed elaborate rituals
in their basements to escape the meaningless boredom of their lives.  They had
probably spent a few too many hours playing Dungeons and Dragons as teenagers.

Mr. fancy-robes
did not look impressed.  Instead, he stepped forward and slapped me hard across
the face, splitting my lip.  I sat up blinking away tears as blood trickled
from the corner of my mouth.  Okay. So they weren’t playing around.  Neither
was I.  I had seen enough.  Now I was getting pissed.

I glared at the
man who had hit me and willed my anger to the surface of my thoughts.  I’d done
it on purpose last night, I could do it again.  I struggled to think past the
pain in my head.  The feeling of power seemed to come easier this time, but a
sudden burning sensation around my wrists stopped me short.  I winced at a
sharp, stabbing pain behind my eyes and brought my hands to my head, noticing
the red blisters rising where the cuffs touched my skin.

A blond woman in
the group laughed mockingly.  “You can’t use your foul magic on us now, witch,”
she said tauntingly.  “The handcuffs have been blessed and inscribed with
symbols to ward off the dark power of demons and the foul creatures of the
night.”

I sighed in
exasperation.  They weren’t Satanists.  It was even worse- they were righteous
God-fearing fanatics.  I dropped my hands to my lap, refusing to ponder the
implications of the blessed cuffs burning my skin when I tried to use my
powers.

“Did your
vampire give you those powers?” a tall man with glasses asked snidely.  “Is
this what you gain for feeding the fiend?”

I rolled my eyes
and squared my shoulders.  “For the last time, he is
not
a vampire. 
Look,” I said standing and holding my hands out in supplication.  “I am having
some kind of allergic reaction to this metal.  Please just take these things
off and let me go.  I promise not to tell anyone about your little cult.”

The leader
approached.  Grabbing the short chain that linked my hands, he jerked me toward
the freaking
altar
in the center of the room.  He pulled me to a halt
and gazed around the room, ensuring that he had his audience’s attention.

“The lord God
will show us the way to rid this earth from the evil creatures of the night,”
he began in a resonant voice.  “But he will not make the way easy. He will test
our faith against he lies of the unfaithful.”  His voice was rising, as he
reached his climactic conclusion.  “We must make him an offering of our faith. 
We will show him the evil that lies in this woman’s blood.”  Oh, that sounded just
peachy.

I jerked my arms
back and turned to flee, but the blond woman tripped me, sending me to the
ground.  I hit the cement viciously, unable to cushion my fall with my arms
bound together.  I pulled something in my wrist when I hit the ground, and I
swore loudly.

I was seized by
my hair and dragged upright.  My scalp was on fire and I lashed out with my
foot, landing a fairly good roundhouse on the unfortunate man with the
glasses.  I was pretty sure that was a cracked rib, and I smiled evilly at his
sharp intake of breath.

The leader
slapped me again, reopening the cut on my lip and I stopped struggling.  “Fuck
you!”  I shouted in his face.

He turned from
me and gestured to the room at large. “Strip her and put her on the altar,” he
said calmly.  “She needs to learn humility.”

Rough hands
groped at my clothing and though I fought tooth and nail, I soon found myself
stripped down to my underwear and chained spread-eagle to the ugly altar in the
middle of the room.  So much for good old- fashioned Christian morals.  The mob
mentality was alive and well.

The leader
appeared over my head holding a long, wicked looking silver dagger.  Stepping
close, he slashed the blade viscously across each forearm, slicing deep enough
to let blood trickle freely from the wounds and onto the altar.  I swore loudly
and told him just exactly what he could do with that knife, but he ignored me.

“I will give you
some time to ponder the error of your ways.  Perhaps you will wish to reform
and help us to destroy the vampires.”  Great, we were re-enacting the Spanish
inquisition.  Who the hell talked like that?  With that, the congregation
turned and filed out the door.

I lay naked and
seething.  I struggled against my bonds, but I was cuffed securely at hands and
feet and chained to the altar.  Where did the nutcases get all this crap? 
Swearing, I lay still and tried to think.  When invention failed me, I began
trying to communicate with Christian again.  My arms were stinging, but the
cuts weren’t life threatening.  It had been mostly for show.  I closed my eyes
and tried to ignore the warm trickle of blood down my arm.  It was beginning to
pool around my hips on the altar and become congealed and sticky, but the
bleeding was slowing and I wasn’t in any immediate danger.

After what felt
like several hours of alternately calling for help with my mind, and struggling
against my chains my head was throbbing  like it was about to split open and my
wrists were burning.  I had no idea what they had actually done to the cuffs,
but it was effective.

I heard the door
open and footsteps echoed as someone crossed the room.  A shadow loomed over me
and I looked up to find the skinny man with glasses leering down at me.

“The reverend
wishes to know if you have changed your mind.  Do you wish to help us rid the
world of evil?”  I licked my bloody lip and spat on the front of his robe.

“Go to hell.”  I
said without heat.  I couldn’t really comply anyway.  Even if I was inclined to
fabricate some lie, I had no idea what to tell them.  They were crazy.

“If that is your
wish,” the man said, smiling cruelly.  His face was pockmarked with old acne
scars and I asked him snidely if this was what came of playing too much World
of Warcraft.  Goading my captors probably wasn’t the smartest thing in the
world, but I was hiding behind my anger.  I refused to show these creeps that
they scared me.

He left me and I
sighed in relief.  However, I tensed again when I heard him lock the door and
return. “You seem to enjoy playing the whore for your vampire,” he said
angrily. “Let’s see how you enjoy serving a man of God.”

I heard the
sound of a zipper and he rucked up the front of his robes.  Turning my head in
horror, I saw his small and partially flaccid penis protruding from his fly.  I
struggled against my bonds in earnest and took a deep lungful of air.  He
stopped my scream by stuffing a washcloth into my mouth.  Lifting my head, he
tied a towel around my head, forming a sort of gag.  I shouted through the
fabric, but it came out as little more than a moan.

He reached out
and pinched my nipple viscously while he rhythmically stroked his cock. I
squirmed away from him as far as I could, but it was no use.  When he touched
me, something in me snapped.  He jerked his hand back as if he’d been burned, and
then to slapped me across the face.  I noticed that he was finally growing
hard.  Oh goodie- a
sadistic
cultist pervert.  He knelt over me on the
altar, jerking off in earnest now, though he seemed afraid to touch me again. 
A fine sheen of sweat beaded on his brow and dripped off the end of his nose,
landing on my skin. I writhed madly, trying to escape, and felt the cuffs
biting into my wrists and ankles.

It didn’t last
long.  Finally he jerked convulsively as hot semen spewed across my belly and
chest. I flushed in rage and he laughed.  I bucked my hips, squirming from side
to side in an effort to get him  away from me. The little pin dick.  I was
going to kill him the minute I was free.

He slid from the
altar and zipped his fly, adjusting his robes with a jerk.  He roughly removed
the linens from my mouth and used them to mop up the mess, leaving a sticky
sheen on my skin.  I screamed as loud as I could and he slapped me again,
shutting me up.

He unlocked the
door and left, telling me that I should really reconsider, as he wouldn’t be so
nice next time.  I spewed profanity at him, promising to gut him alive when I
got loose.  I knew it was an empty threat, my chances of escape were looking
pretty slim, but I had to vent my anger or go insane.

I closed my eyes
and launched into my routine of calling for help.  This time I focused on
Christian, putting all the rage and frustration and disgust I felt into one
long mental scream for help.  My head was on fire and my wrists ached, but I
really didn’t care.

I kept it up for
some time and my head was beginning to pound again.  I slowly began to realize
that the pounding was not all internal.  There were shouts and thumps coming
from the other side of the door.  The door opened and a few of the cult members
rushed in, looking disheveled, the leader and the jerk-off amongst them.  They
quickly bolted the door and gathered at the opposite side of the room. 
Throwing open a cupboard, the leader began handing out crosses and rosaries and
what I took to be tiny vials of holy water.  I would have laughed except that I
could still feel the cuts burning on my arms, and my bruised face was swollen
and puffy.  I wondered what was going on.  Presumably the vampire had arrived,
and they were preparing to ward him off.  I permitted myself a grim smile at
the thought. 
Bastards.

The door crashed
open, torn from its hinges, and the leader spun, drawing his gun and aiming it
at the doorway.  I struggled to lift my head enough to see, catching sight of
the vision of death that was framed in the door.  Christian was dressed in all
black, wearing a long leather duster and an evil look.  His eyes were glowing
with rage.  I noted dimly that he was covered in splatters of blood.  Ailis
darted out from behind him, a small, dark shadow moving in a blur.

She halted
before the leader, a bloody hand darting out to grasp his throat.  He shot her
point-blank in the stomach and she laughed, the sound sending a chill over my
skin. He had wanted a vampire, now he had one.  “Best of luck, asshole,” I
murmured under my breath.

Ailis leaned in
an inch from his face and hissed, “What is the meaning of this?”