Vampire Elite (54 page)

“Unlock the cuffs,” she commanded, pointing to the Amiti female spread on the polished altar. “Anock is right. Too many synchronicities. The Great Lioness is definitely communicating with us. We must follow her will.”

“Or Hathor’s,” Anock quietly added under his breath.

Chapter 70

The Royal pride’s residence, Sharm el-Sheikh

It had only been three days since Simone had regained her freedom. Now she was locked up again, exchanging one prison for another. At least this time it was her own apartment at the pride’s residence in Egypt. She was under house arrest. But what for? What had she done? Sure, she’d attacked Ken and Shakir and threatened to kill Anock, that son of a bitch who’d broken his word and hadn’t come for her alone. He’d captured her blood-bond, her Oberon, and now she had no idea what had happened to him. Their bond was silent; she couldn’t sense him. Could he be dead?
No!
Just the thought of it made her feel sick. Maybe a shield was concealing him? Whatever was happening, Anock knew where Oberon was. She just had to find a way to reach that bastard. She’d had enough and wasn’t going to sit in this fucking room any longer waiting for them to kill Oberon.
 

Simone slammed her fist against the door and viciously kicked it. “Hey, someone, open the door, damn it. Open the door!
Helloooo!
”
 

No response.
 

She hated this feeling of helplessness. They had no right to treat her this way. She was one of the pride, the Elite, the fucking princess! She picked up a chair, and holding it like a baseball bat, slammed it against the window. Not even a scratch: the windows were bulletproof and the chair just bounced to the floor. Simone went on a rampage and broke everything in the room, starting with the TV, then the stereo, all the mirrors and the remaining furniture. She ripped her pillows, blankets, and sheets apart. When the feathers flying around the room made her sneeze, she stomped into the walk-in closet and roughly yanked all the clothes off their hangers, enjoying the sounds of ripping fabric, and then kicked her way through the clothes into the bathroom, where she smashed the wall mirror and swept all of her cosmetics and perfumes off the vanity. Then she decided to create a flood.
 

She cranked the taps in the bathtub and the basin as far as they’d turn, plugged the overflow drains with pieces of the ripped sheets, and then just stood there, watching the water rise. By the time the it started overflowing the bathtub, her anger had subsided. She sloshed across the soaked floor and dropped, exhausted, onto her bed.
 

She was awakened by the gentle touch of fingers stroking her hair. She jerked her head around and found Ismen sitting on the bed next to her. The room was a disaster, broken furniture and shards of mirror glass everywhere. She didn’t hear the sound of running water, so Ismen had probably turned it off, but the carpet looked completely saturated. The bottom half of the drapes was soaked as the water wicked upward, the curtain rods bowing under the extra weight, and she could make out puddles of standing water on the floor, feathers floating in thick layers on their surface.
What a mess!
she thought, with evil satisfaction.
 

Then she growled at Ismen. “What the hell are you doing here?”
 

“I came to comfort you. The pride thought that you might talk to me because I had nothing to do with having you locked in here. I am so sorry for you, Sim, that your own family would treat you this way. It’s horrible.”
 

“Go to hell. I don’t want to see anybody.” Simone turned away from her and pulled one of the torn covers up over her head.
 

“Don’t be angry with me. It really isn’t my fault. I even brought you something to eat. You must be very hungry.”
 

Simone pushed the blanket off of her and sat up. The food did look tantalizing. She was not going to punish herself by staving herself to death; she’d suffered enough already. Snubbing Ismen, she began ravenously devouring the food.
 

“I brought you something else, too,” said Ismen as she pulled a glass jar filled with fresh blood out of her shoulder bag. “It might help you calm down. Please, my princess, try it.” Ismen handed her the jar.
 

Simone had fed four days ago from Oberon, so she wasn’t bloodthirsty, but what vampire would refuse such an offering? Blood did more than just meet nutritional needs; it was calming and soothing, and the Elite often used it as a tranquilizer. It would help her calm her conflicting emotions and think more clearly. Simone needed a cool head on her shoulders right now to deal with her family; anger wouldn’t help her negotiate with them. She took the jar and removed the lid.

A painfully familiar scent, like gardenia on an ocean breeze, caressed her face.
 

Simone squeezed the jar so hard that she almost broke it, her senses reeling. No, it couldn’t be a mistake. All vampires had a highly developed sensitivity to blood. Once they’d had someone’s blood, they could remember the taste forever and distinguish it from thousands of others. This blood was Arianna’s. Simone would bet her life on it.
 

She took a sip. She would never forget this taste. The blood of the Amiti Queen. The purest of the pure.
 

“Where did you get this?” She had to be very careful.
 

“Get what?”
 

“The blood.”
 

Ismen shrugged. “Where they always get it; from the bloodstock.”
 

“Do you know whose blood it is?”
 

“How would I know? I called the bloodstock handlers and asked them to prepare some fresh blood for you. You know how they operate; they’ll get it from whoever’s next in the rotation. So it’s random. If you don’t like it, I can reorder.”
 

“No, I like it.” Simone hurried to finish her drink. So Arianna was here, down below in the cells. It wasn’t just some anonymous Amiti who’d been drained for her; it was her sister, who she knew and ... loved. Yes. She did love Arianna. She’d made a mistake. So what? Who hadn’t?
 

Simone got up and walked to the window, sloshing through the water on the floor. The old Simone would have had fun and splashed around, but she couldn’t imagine doing that now. She hated Ismen’s scrutinizing eyes; she needed to learn to master her emotions better and stop being such an open book.

What could have happened? How had Arianna managed to escape from the pride that had kidnapped them both? Had they sold her to the Royal pride? Why hadn’t Simone’s pride told her that Arianna was here? What was Simone going to do now? Was she going to abandon Arianna again, just keep feeding on her blood?
 

No, Simone was not the selfish bitch they always accused her of being. She was a female of virtue and merit. In fact, she realized, her heart swelling with satisfaction, her pride knew that: they hadn’t told her about Arianna because they knew she’d try to rescue her.
 

Getting Arianna out of the cells wouldn’t be a problem; the area was managed by humans, and Simone could easily hypnotize them. But then what? Where could she take Arianna so she’d be safe?
 

She glanced back at Ismen, still sitting quietly on her bed, then down to the floor. Splinters of wood floated on the surface like hundreds of miniature islands.
Anavilhanas
. Her memory filled with images of Sargas flying with her on his hip, high above the spectacular archipelago.
 

Of course! The Legacy. They’d protect Arianna. They had promised her Sanctuary, had given it to her before she’d been kidnapped. Simone just had to get in touch with them and work out a plan.

First things first, though: she had to have the run of the villa. She’d be no use to Arianna locked up in this room. She’d have to behave herself, win her freedom back.
 

“So, Ismen, the pride sent you to talk to me?” She returned to her bed and sat down next to the Amiti.

“Yes. They don’t want to keep you locked up, but you were so angry that they wanted to give you time to cool down.”
 

“Well, I managed to do a pretty decent job of venting my anger on destroying this place, so I guess that cooled me down. I feel much better. Can you tell them that I apologize for my behavior? Actually, I’d like to do it personally. Ask them if they’ll allow me to join them for dinner.”
 

“Of course, Simone; I’ll tell them. We’re all happy to have you back home.”
 

In about an hour Simone and Ismen joined the pride at dinner. Simone couldn’t bear to face the disaster of her closet, so she’d borrowed a cute blue spaghetti-strapped dress from Ismen. Dinner was served on the open terrace with a view of the magnificent Red Sea. Colorful party lights and candles decorated the terrace, creating a comfortable and relaxed atmosphere. Quiet music was a perfect addition to the peaceful setting.
 

Simone was the embodiment of graciousness. She smiled and joked with everybody, answering questions about her adventures with the humans. There was a lot to catch up on.
 

Theores assured everyone that the human research station would be put on the Council’s agenda and that it was a matter of great concern that the humans were experimenting on immortals. Everyone was anxious for Odji to come out of his coma and looking forward to what he would have to say. Not one of them mentioned Oberon or Arianna. They were all casually chatting and appeared to be in a good mood. The life of the pride was back to normal—except, that is, for Tor.
 

The King was unusually silent. He made no effort to smile and several times completely missed jokes that someone told. He was reserved and formal. Simone had never seen her father like this. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, but changed her mind. She had more significant things to think about, and besides, she didn’t care what his problem was.
 

After dinner, everybody left and retired to their quarters. As Simone’s apartment was uninhabitable, she went to one of the many guest rooms. She locked the door and checked the windows, and then she stood very still, sharpening all her vampire senses, listening, making sure that nobody was spying on her. The villa was enveloped in a blanket of stillness. Everybody appeared to be sleeping or preparing to go to bed. She was safe. She grasped the phone and dialed the Legacy’s number. An unfamiliar male voice on the other end of the line made her a little nervous, but she ignored her intuition, cupping the receiver in her palm and saying in a low voice.

“This is Simone. I need to talk to Antar.”
 

“He is currently unavailable, Miss.”
 

“Then I need Rock or Sargas or someone from his family.”
 

“The whole Alpha family is away on important business. I can’t connect you with any of them, I’m sorry. I’m substituting for Antar; my name is Sharrit. Maybe I can help you?”
 

“I ask Sanctuary for a female.” She’d take the risk of talking to this stranger. It was the Legacy who provided Sanctuary, not Antar. “She is in danger. Can you provide her Sanctuary and guarantee her safety?”
 

“Yes.”
 

“I also would like the Legacy to take this female out of the country and hide her somewhere far, far away. Can you do this?”
 

“Yes, of course. Where is the female?”

“In Sharm el-Sheikh in Egypt.”

“Bring her to the Sharm el-Sheikh International Airport. Our people will meet you at the entrance to the car rental lot. Look for the warriors with Tyr’s tattoo, an upward-pointing arrow, on the back of their right hand.”
 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. I will never forget this.”
 

“When are you going to deliver her?”
 

Simone glanced at the clock. It was just after midnight. “Let’s do it in two hours. But I might be late, so please wait for me for another couple of hours just in case I run into any problems on this end.”
 

“Don’t worry. They will wait as long as needed.”
 

They disconnected.
 

The plan was in place; now Simone just had to make it work.

* * *

“Good job. You were very convincing.” Anock clapped Blade on the shoulder. He’d just hung up the receiver. They were in the Guardians’ office in Sharm el-Sheikh, monitoring all outgoing calls from the Royal villa. “She believed you. Now, who should we send to meet Simone and the Queen at the airport?”

Chapter 71

Simone walked through her rescue plan, considering every potential loophole or setback, thinking it through in precise detail. Clothes: she needed to get Arianna something other than the bloodstock uniform. What an idiot she’d been to trash her own apartment; as far as she knew, she’d destroyed every piece of clothing she owned. But there must be
something
she could work with. She could give Arianna the dress and wear whatever she could find.
 

Soundlessly, like a hunting feline, Simone stole back to her apartment, where she rifled through the sodden pile of clothing on her closet floor until she found a pair of black linen pants and a tight black tee-shirt, wet but intact. She wrung them as dry as she could, then took Ismen’s dress off and put them on, checking herself out in what remained of the big closet mirror. The wet clothes clung to her body and absorbed the light, making her sleek and dark like a cat burglar.
 

Before leaving the room, Simone grabbed the least damaged blanket from her bed, but on her way to the garage she had a better idea and stopped at a linen closet to exchange the blanket for a buff-colored one that closely matched her car’s interior. She stopped by the garage to drop off the blanket and check her car’s tank. Good: it was almost full. Having taken care of the transportation, she took the elevator to the bloodstock cells beneath the estate.