Sire (5 page)

Okay, this was going to be hard, but she was just going to have to do it. Just let go, slide one step over, and grab the trellis. That's it. Just do it. Just do it.

She leaned as far to the right as she could. She let go of the windowsill, just for a second, and then grabbed it again. That wasn't so bad, was it? She let go again, briefly, testing her balance and her courage.

She could do this. She let go of the window and slid her right foot a fraction of an inch. She shifted her weight, and then moved her left foot. Breathe, she told herself, remember to breath. Slowly, inch by inch, she crept toward the trellis.

Almost there. Maybe, if she stretched just a little ...

Her foot slipped, and she started to fall. Her right leg shot out from under her, and her knee hit the ledge. Gravity started to pull her back toward the ground so terribly far below. Desperately, she threw her arm out, clawing for anything she could get a grip on. She had been so close, so close ...

Her fingers found the trellis and closed around it like a vice. Her body fell away from the edge entirely and swung through the open air. Caitlin cried out as pain shot through her shoulder, but her grip held and her body came crashing back into the wall. Her arm was nearly wrenched from its socket, and she grunted in pain, but she wouldn't let go. As quickly as she could, she found new handholds and footholds, steadied herself, and made her way to the ground.

She dropped onto the grass, one hand pressed hard against her shoulder, and looked around. There was a driveway around the corner, toward the front of the mansion. It must have led to the road. The ground between the mansion and the driveway seemed awfully exposed, but that was the only way she was sure led to freedom. She didn't see anyone else nearby, so after taking one more nervous look around, she started running.

She had just made the first bend in the driveway, hiding the mansion behind the trees that covered so much of the estate, when she heard it. It was a small sound, the crunching of some leaves, the snapping of a twig, but when you think you're alone, even the smallest sounds seem very loud. She looked around, trying to find out what had disturbed the quiet, but saw nothing.

He dropped out of the tree right behind her. Not Liam, someone else. Bigger. Uglier. He was more than seven feet tall, and covered in thick muscles. He wore tattered blue jeans and nothing else. His chest and arms were covered in thick hair and scars. His head was buzzed close to the scalp, and he wore a matching beard. His eyes were beady and cruel.

"Hi there," Caitlin said. "I was just taking my puppy for a walk, and he ran away from me. You haven't seen him, have you?" Caitlin asked.

Ugly snarled and grabbed for her, but Caitlin ducked under his arms, dodged past him, and ran.

She sprinted as fast as she could. She didn't slow down to look back at Ugly, just kept her eyes forward and her legs pumping.

Something smacked into her back like a cannon ball. She slammed into the ground, opening up cuts on her hands and knees. The weight crushed down on her, pinning her to the ground, and she fought to at least roll over onto her back.

A snarling wolf's face peered down at her. Saliva dripped from it's teeth, and the moonlight glinted in its eyes. It growled, and Caitlin cuffed it in the face with her elbow. The wolf jerked away, and Caitlin scrambled backward.

"Nice doggy, good doggy," she said.

The wolf started to shake, and the air around it shimmered. Suddenly, the wolf was gone, and Ugly was standing in its place.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Caitlin said. "And, um, can you put your pants back on?"

Ugly picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, then started walking back toward the mansion. "Look, can't we talk about this?" Caitlin asked. "I mean, you seem like a nice, reasonable ... werewolf, and I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement. Like, maybe you can let me go, and I'll buy you a nice chew toy? Or maybe a doggy bed?"

Ugly ignored her. He pulled the main doors open—they were heavy oak and at least ten feet tall—and carried her through the welcome room. The rest of the mansion was maintained and furnished, unlike the room she had been kept in.

He carried her up the main staircase and to another heavy door. He threw open the latch that held it shut and pushed the door open, revealing the room Caitlin has just escaped.

Ugly dumped Caitlin in an unceremonious heap on the floor, and started out of the room. "Hey, hold on a second," she said. He turned to her and raised an eyebrow, but didn't speak. "I was hoping that you could, um ... what's that!"

She pointed at the far wall, and made a move for the door, but Ugly caught her in one arm and dragged her up into the air. She squirmed and kicked and slapped at him, but he held her tight. She drove the palm of her hand up into his nose—she'd seen that on a movie somewhere—and heard a sharp
crack!
The werewolf—and seriously, werewolves? God, this night sucked—grunted, adjusted his grip so that he was holding both shoulders, and shook her. Hard.

"Okay, okay, sorry," she said. "God, you're going to give me a concussion."

He dropped her, and she took a step backwards. "You know," Ugly said, "I really don't like you." His voice was full of gravel. He lumbered toward her, and Caitlin skittered back, toward the corner. She pressed against the wall, but Ugly kept coming forward. Caitlin sank to the ground. "You're more trouble than you're worth," he said.

"I promise, I won't try to escape again."

He smiled, and it wasn't comforting. "You got that right." He reached out a hand, and Caitlin turned her face away. Ugly stopped, and then ran his hand down her arm, across her stomach, and down her thigh. Caitlin shuddered. Ugly stopped at her calf, taking the whole thing into his palm, and tickling the back with his fingers.

And then he raked a single claw down her leg, tearing a long gash through muscle and skin.

Caitlin grabbed her leg and screamed.
 

"Liam will drop by soon," Ugly said, then licked the blood from his claws. "I'm not really a connoisseur, but I'm pretty sure he's going to think you're
delicious.
I just wonder what he's going to do to you before he eats you."

Then he walked calmly out of the room, whistling. The door clanged shut behind him.

***

Angelica walked out of the bathroom, pulling her silk robe into place.

Michael was still amazed at how beautiful she was. Even after everything that had happened, she still took his breath away. Figuratively speaking, anyway.

She walked like a ballerina, almost floating across the room. Her legs were long and lithe, and as she walked they swept and swirled her short robe, giving him tantalizing hints at what was hidden beneath. Her skin, flushed from feeding, was pink and perfect. Chocolate hair cascaded down her back and fell almost to her waist, and surrounded a face that would make an angel weep. Her features were delicate and young, her eyes big, wide, and innocent.

Of course, it was all a disguise.

She poured herself onto the couch and snuggled up to Michael, and stretched one leg over his lap. Michael had to force his eyes away.

He hated that she still had this effect on him. He knew that he should hate her for what she had done. Or for what she had allowed to happen. But what he felt for her, the things she did to him ... it wasn't easy to just let that go.

No, Liam was his enemy, not Angelica. Liam was the one he hated. Liam was the one he was going to kill.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," Michael said. His brow furrowed, and he stared at the fireplace across the room.

Angelica laughed softly, and pressed against him. "Come on, Michael," she said, and licked a rivulet of blood that ran down his neck, "You know you can't hide anything from me. I can taste the tension in you." She ran her hands over his bare chest and up to his shoulders, and started kneading them. "Anything I can do to loosen you up?" She murmured into his ear.

He pulled away from her, just a little bit. "No."

Angelica pulled her legs underneath her and sat up straight. "What's wrong?"

Michael let out a sigh. "It's Liam. We were at Indigo tonight, and there was this girl ..."

Angelica smiled. "Was she tasty?"

Michael shot her a dirty look. "Liam took her. He sent me away, sent me
here
, and he took her."

"
I
sent for you, Michael. And
that
doesn't make you angry, does it?"

"... No. It's just ... you know what he's going to do to her."

"That's what the club is
for
, Michael. It's nature's way. I know you don't believe it, but it's true. Everybody needs to eat. Even us."

Michael turned toward her. "But do you
really
believe that? You don't kill indiscriminately. Even Indigo is ..."

"Catch and release? That protects us as much as the humans. Secrecy is our greatest strength, Michael. If the world knew we existed ... don't let those television shows fool you. There would be a war, and we would lose. And nothing draws attention faster than a pretty white girl gone missing."

"Then why does Liam get to hunt whoever he wants? He killed an RA last night, for God's sake. How much work went into covering that up? How many memories had to be altered? And now he's got another one? How long until someone notices that St. Troy University has the highest mortality rate in the entire country? How long until people stop sending their kids here? How long until someone important starts asking questions?"

Angelica crossed her arms. "People have already asked questions. The police chief, for one. And she's working for us now. We'll deal with anyone else who comes poking around, too."

"And what if you can't? What if someone can resist your compulsion? What if this ends up on CNN? What will you do about that?"

Angelica was quiet for a moment. "You're right," she said eventually. "He is ... careless. But his passion is what drew me to him in the first place. And he's my Scion. I have a hard time saying no to him."

Michael gave her a look that could break glass. "Believe me, I know."

"That's not fair, Michael. Your situation was ... difficult. He was punished for what he did to your friend, but there are limits. He's too charismatic and too popular. And even if he wasn't ... he's still mine." Her eyes pleaded with him to understand.

Michael was silent. Angelica leaned toward him, letting her robe fall partially open, and whispered, "Come on, let me distract you from all of this." She took the lobe of his ear between her teeth.

Michael jerked like he'd been stung. "I can't."

Angelica might have actually blushed. She sat up and pulled her robe closed again. "Tell me about her." Michael looked at her sideways, but Angelica insisted. "I mean it. I want to know about this girl that has you so enamored."

"It's not going to make you jealous?"

She smiled. "It's been a long time since I've been jealous of a human. She's a fleeting thing, here now, and tomorrow ... I'm no more jealous of her than you are of the people I feed from."

Michael was quiet for a bit. "She's ... beautiful." He looked at her, and Angelica nodded, urging him to continue. "Really beautiful. She's like a model. No, not even that. She's like ... art. Her eyes, they way her mouth is formed, her hair ... I don't know that I could even draw her. I don't think I could do her justice." Another pause, and then, "She's so beautiful you might consider ... preserving her."

Angelica smiled. "I don't do that lightly, Michael. Make a vampire, and you're stuck with her forever. She would have to be
very
special to warrant my blood."

Michael's face fell.
 

"But," Angelica continued, "if sparing her life would make you happy ..."

"It would," Michael said urgently.

"Very well. I'll tell Liam to let her go." She crossed the room, her robe flowing and teasing, and picked up a cell phone. She held it to her ear, and her eyebrows knit together. "No answer."

"Oh, God."

"Oh hush," Angelica said. "Liam is horrible about answering his phone. You'll just have to tell him in person. Here." She took a ring from her left hand and tossed it to Michael. "My signet. This will prove that you're acting on my command."

"She might already be dead!"

Angelica raised an eyebrow. "Then you'd better hurry."

Michael looked at her, aghast.

Angelica pursed her lips. "You know Liam doesn't like to kill them on the first night. Your girl is fine. Go get her."

Michael stared at her, and then moved toward the door.

"And put a shirt on," Angelica called after him. "You don't want to catch a cold."

Chapter Three

Caitlin had tied her belt around her leg, and was pressing on the wound as hard as she could. She had managed to stop the flow of blood, eventually, but she still felt weak, light headed. She was lying in a sticky, red-black pool that spilled out over the white marble tiles.

The pain had been blinding at first, driving every other thought out of her mind, but now it only throbbed with the beating of her heart. It was still painful, but there was a little bit of room left in her head for other things.

Which didn't make her situation better.

Because the images she saw in between the stabs of pain were horrifying. Ugly's words rang in her head:
I just wonder what he's going to do to you before he eats you.

She was going to be torn apart, bled out, drained dry. And that might be the
best
part of the night.

She couldn't walk, couldn't even stand. There was no way to escape, and no one to save her. She was going to die.

Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away. She set her jaw, clenching her teeth against the pain. She was done crying. If this was it, if this was her time, she was going to go out strong.

She wouldn't give the monster the satisfaction of seeing her broken.

Caitlin sat up, backed into the corner of the room, and tried to find a position that took as much stress off her leg as possible.

And then, from somewhere down the hall, the screaming started.