Chapter Seventeen
English Channel
March 2010
The sun was pouring through the porthole when she woke, and small droplets of condensation cast tiny rainbows around the small room. Beatrice remembered Giovanni’s favorite waterfall in Cochamó and how it looked during the day with the sun reflecting off the spraying mist. It would be late summer right now, and she decided that if she could pick one place to be, it would be at their house in the valley with him.
They would wake in the early evening and make love in front of the fireplace in their bedroom, the flecks of mica sparkling in the hewn granite wall. She would sleep next to him all day and spend the night riding through the meadows in the moonlight. Maybe there would be wildflowers. She would have to remember to see as much of the valley as she could in the sunlight and take pictures for after she had turned. Since it was summer, maybe they would implement a no clothing rule in the house. She knew Giovanni wouldn’t mind.
Beatrice rubbed her eyes and stretched. She was going to get out of the room today. She wasn’t sure how, but it was daytime. Granted, it was morning, which meant that some of the vampires could still be awake if they stayed out of sunlight, but by afternoon, she knew they would be sleeping. That meant anyone up and walking around would be human. And she was pretty sure if she could land the odd blow on Gemma, she could kick some human ass.
Hours later, when the sun was hanging lower in the sky, she beat on the thick metal door.
“Hey!” she shouted. “Anyone?”
She paused to hear if there was any movement.
“Anyone out there? I’ve been in here all day, you gonna feed me?” She pounded some more. “Hey, I’m starving!”
She wasn’t starving, she was sickeningly nervous, but she needed someone to open the door.
“Open up! I need some food.”
She finally heard steps approaching, and Beatrice stepped back, grasping the sheet she had twisted into a thick rope.
“Hello?” an accented voice called. “You are hungry?”
“Yeah, I’m starving, all right? Will you feed me already?” She braced herself on the corner of the bed. When the door opened, whoever came through would see her immediately, there was no avoiding it, so she stepped up on the small bed, knowing that she would get one chance for surprise.
“Okay. I get food,” the voice called. She felt a brief pang at the thought of harming the voice, which sounded fairly friendly, but there was no way in hell she was going to show mercy to her captors when Lorenzo was waiting at sundown.
The footsteps walked away, and she put down her sheet to take off the jacket she had been wearing. It was cold on the ship, and she knew it was cold outside, but the jacket was too bulky for her to move freely, and she knew that the less an attacker had to grab, the better.
Beatrice took deep breaths, preparing her mind for the rush at the door. She focused on her hand-to-hand training with Gemma and all the advice the woman had given her over the past month.
“Go for the dirty punch. Always. And hit them when they’re down.”
“Throw your attacker off balance. It’s the only way your small size can be used to your advantage.”
“Be quick! Quicker. Make yourself so fast they can’t grab you. If they do, you’re dead.”
She took a deep breath.
The footsteps approached.
She heard a key in the lock.
The door cracked open.
She saw a tray.
Spotting her opportunity, Beatrice braced her arms on the narrow walls and kicked up, knocking the tray into her captor’s face as she swung the twisted bed sheet around his neck and, holding it securely, jumped off the bed.
The force of her momentum knocked the large man off balance and he stumbled into the wall. She aimed her boot at his groin and kicked him as hard as she could. Then she kicked him again.
He was on the ground, grunting in pain, so she stomped.
Beatrice was surprised how little noise he made. She must have knocked the wind out of him. After the first low grunt, the crewman curled into himself while she continued battering his kidney area with her boot the way Gemma had taught her. She shoved the door mostly closed and paused to survey the writhing man at her feet.
There was a gun in his belt. Score.
She reached down to his doughy waist and grabbed it. It was a Heckler and Koch nine millimeter, exactly like the one she had practiced with the previous week.
“God bless you, Terry,” she muttered as she popped the magazine out and checked the ammunition. The crewman hadn’t fired his weapon since he’d loaded it, so she slammed it back, racked a bullet into the chamber, and took the safety off.
She aimed it at the belly of the large man who was looking at her with wide eyes.
“Funny thing, guns. Six foot tall man with a nine millimeter, five foot tall woman with a nine millimeter…pretty much the same, aren’t they?”
He didn’t speak, but he was panting and she saw his mouth start to open. She kicked him in the kidneys again.
“You stay quiet. You yell? Everyone’s going to know I’m busting out, and I’ll have no reason not to just shoot you. Noise is noise, right? I don’t particularly want to shoot you, but I really hate the creepy asshole that put me in here, so if I have to, I will. Is this making sense?”
The silent crewman nodded and closed his mouth.
“Good, what language do you speak?”
“Español,” he whispered.
“Fine.” She switched to Spanish. “I want off this boat. Like I said, I don’t particularly want to shoot you, but I will if it’ll get me off the boat. Is that a cell phone?” She nodded toward his pocket, where she could see a slight bulge.
“Yes.”
“Give it to me. One hand, in your pocket. No sudden moves, or I’ll shoot you.”
“Yes,” he said as he reached down. “Please, I just work here. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know—”
“Shut up.”
“My name is—”
“Shut. Up.” If she had to shoot him later, she sure as hell didn’t want to know his name. She didn’t know if she could kill him, but the thought of shooting his legs didn’t bother her at all.
The more Beatrice examined the nameless crewman, the more she realized that he looked like a normal guy. He didn’t react or assess the room like someone trained in security, and she smiled a little when she realized she had lucked out.
It also made her feel slightly bad about scaring the shit out of him—she could smell that he had peed his pants—but she wasn’t going to back down.
Let him think she was a big badass; Beatrice was feeling like it at the moment.
He handed her his phone and she stuck it in her pocket. “Thanks. Now, where are we, and how far are we from land?”
“We’re still in the Channel. We had to stop in La Havre before dawn. We are…maybe fifteen miles off the coast of France? Near Cherbourg. I’m not sure.” His voice shook just a little.
“Shit.” The land didn’t look that far away. She was going need a boat. “Where are the lifeboats?”
Would a lifeboat be enough on the English Channel in the middle of February? She had a sudden thought. “This is a freighter, right?”
He nodded, looking confused when she smiled. “So it’s got those big, orange life rafts with navigation and engines and all that stuff? The contained ones?”
“Yes.”
Thank you, Discovery Channel. She shoved the gun closer. “You ever launch one?”
“I—I’ve seen the drills, but there’s never been an emergency—”
“Good enough for me. We’re headed for the lifeboat, mister. If you try to get away, I’ll shoot you. If you try to yell for help, I’ll shoot you. I don’t really have a lot to lose at this point, and I’m sure the creepy, blond asshole that hired you told me you can’t hurt me, so don’t even try.”
She nodded toward the door and the crewman scrambled
up, still clutching his groin from where she had kicked him.
Beatrice hadn’t heard anyone pass in the hall, which fit with the deserted feeling she’d gotten from the ship through most of the morning. She nudged the large man in front of her with the barrel of the H&K, taking comfort in the sturdy grip in her hand. She snagged her thick jacket on the way out the door.
Nameless Crewman walked in front of her.
“Where are you taking me?”
“The lifeboats, remember?”
“Honestly, I’ve seen the drills, but there’s never been an emergency, so I don’t know—”
“Feel this?” She nudged his back with the barrel of the gun. “This is an emergency. You’re launching it, and you’re taking me to the nearest stretch of land. And I suggest we get there before nightfall, ‘cause that’s when the monsters come out.”
“Monsters?” She could hear his voice quiver a little, and she shoved down the flicker of sympathy.
“Yeah, monsters. And my boyfriend? He’s the scariest one, so as long as you help me get out of here, you’ll be fine.”
They wound through the corridors of the creaking ship, heading upward at a steady pace. Nameless Crewman didn’t halt and seemed to be cooperating, so they reached the deck in short order. She could smell the fresh sea air when he stopped by the last door.
“Wait, Miss. Let me check outside to see if anyone—”
“I will have this gun at your back the whole time, do you understand? If I think you’re messing with me, I’ll shoot you.” Beatrice was impressed by how firm her voice sounded. She was probably going to fall apart later, but at the moment, the adrenaline and the firearm were making her feel like Superwoman.
He nodded and cracked open the door, only to close it almost immediately.
“There are men out there I do not recognize! With guns. Lots of guns,” he said in a panic. “What is going on? The captain has been acting so strange; he never used to—”
“Shut up! Men? What did they look like?” Giovanni couldn’t have found her already; she had seen the crack of sunlight at the door. Would Lorenzo have hired security that Nameless Crewman didn’t recognize?
She crowded him, shoving the gun into his belly. “Do you know everyone on this boat? What about passengers? Are there any?”
He frowned. “There are the strange people renting the interior cabins. They are odd and they come and go at night while I am off duty—”
“Okay, but the guys out there aren’t them?”
“No. And they’re speaking French. This is a Spanish vessel. We all speak Spanish.”
“French?” Her eyes lit up.
Jean.
She remembered him bragging about his extensive human staff when he gave her his card.
“Day or night, B. If you are in France, call these numbers and someone will help you. I have people everywhere,” he’d said proudly.
She wracked her brain for the numbers he had given her and pulled out Nameless Crewman’s phone. The signal was faint, but it might just be enough. She punched one in and practically cried in relief when she heard the phone ringing on the other end.
“Allo?” a polite woman answered.
“Do you speak English? This is Beatrice De Novo, and Jean Demarais—”
“Ah! Madmoiselle De Novo,” she tumbled off a ridiculously fast stream of French before Beatrice heard another voice on the line.
“Miss De Novo?” a deep voice asked. “Am I speaking with Beatrice De Novo?”
“Yes, you are. I met your boss a few nights ago, and I had a quick question.”
“We have been looking for you since this morning, where—”
“Do you happen to have a whole bunch of guys looking for me on the deck of a freighter in the English Channel right now?”
There was a deep chuckle. “As a matter of fact…”
She sighed in relief but gasped when she felt the cold barrel of a gun at her neck. She dropped the phone when she heard a low voice hiss in Spanish, “You’re not supposed to be out of your cabin, are you?”
Beatrice turned to Nameless Crewman, who was staring in horror at the group of men gathered behind them. He looked at her in panic right before one of the crewmen raised a gun and shot him in the chest. She cried out when the man slumped forward and the pool of blood spread under him.
“No!” I’m sorry…I’m so sorry.
It was Beatrice’s last thought before she felt something strike her temple, and she blacked out.
Chapter Eighteen
English Channel
March 2010
The freighter’s hatch started to glow, and the heat radiated from the center of the panel until the metal was cherry red. The steel turned the consistency of wet cardboard as it slumped in his hands. Giovanni pushed aside the soft metal, blocking the three vampires behind him as Terry sent a blast of cold water to cool it.
Jean’s human assault team had remained, standing alert on deck to grab any humans they found. The team had already secured the bridge but had been told not to go belowdecks until Giovanni, Carwyn, Gemma, and Terry arrived at first dark. When they had, the team leader gladly let the silent immortals dressed in black take the lead.
Giovanni reached down the dark passageway with his senses, stretching his hearing and sense of smell to detect any danger. He could smell the faint scent of honeysuckle near the top of the stairs, along with the scent of adrenaline that made the blue flames jump on his bare torso.
He felt Terry’s cool hand on his shoulder, dousing the flames as the salt air was drawn to him.
“Watch yourself. Narrow corridors. Flammable cargo. We don’t know what’s down there.”
“Beatrice is down there,” he said.
“So she is, and we’re getting her back tonight.”
Giovanni touched the melted edges of the door, nodding as he ducked his tall frame through the opening. He could hear Terry, Carwyn, and Gemma crawl through behind him. He walked down the corridor and halted at the top of a stairwell.
He could hear a scuffle somewhere in the bowels of the ship, as if humans were scrambling, and he heard the soft shush of immortals as they swept through the ship at inhuman speed.
“Father and I will go forward,” Gemma murmured. “You and Terry go to the rear of the ship; with this damp air, he’ll have no trouble extinguishing you if things get dangerous.”
“Just stay behind me, Terry.”
“Right.”
She nodded. “We’ve all seen the layout of this ship from Jean’s man, but I think it’s important to note that many of the small interior cabins could be good hiding spots, as well.”
Carwyn said, “We’re sending humans above if they cooperate—”
“And it doesn’t waste too much time,” Giovanni added.
“Fine, and let’s remember that there are twenty men listed in this crew, and only four of them are being held above,” Carwyn said.
“And we don’t know how many vampires Lorenzo has with him,” Terry added.
“Is he here?” Gemma looked to Giovanni. “Do you get any sense of him, Gio?”
“Not of Lorenzo, but there are four other energy signatures. Young, not very strong.”
Though all vampires could sense electricity, much as sharks could in the water, Giovanni’s senses had always been more keen than most. Since his particular element made him highly reactive to electronics, he could also sense vampire signatures at far greater distances than even most ancient vampires. It was one of the reasons he and Tenzin had been such effective mercenaries.
“Lorenzo’s scent is here, but I don’t feel him. He might have left.”
“Rats do tend to flee when they smell fire,” Carwyn muttered.
“Let’s go,” Terry said. “No need to be quiet if we find them.” He leaned over and pulled Gemma toward him, planting a rough kiss on her mouth before chucking her chin. “Make sure you leave some for the rest of us, luv.”
The four nodded toward each other before breaking
apart to search. Giovanni clamped down the instinctive rage and forced himself to think rationally. Beatrice was smart and brave, and he knew Lorenzo needed her unharmed as bait for her father. If she was still on the ship, she would be fine. She had to be.
He traced the scent of honeysuckle and adrenaline down to the starboard side of the ship, halting before a small cabin where the smell was strongest. Terry caught up with him just before he cracked open the door.
“Here.” Giovanni stepped through the door, almost falling to his knees at the scent of her panic and a faint trace of blood. A cocktail of Lorenzo’s scent and cloying energy combined with the smell of blood, adrenaline, and Beatrice. Blue flames burst out over his body. Giovanni heard his growl echo through the small room, and his fangs punched through his lower lip.
He felt Terry slap at his burning shoulder and steam rose. “Gio, focus. I smell blood, too, but it’s not much. Calm down and track her.” The water vampire sent a cooling blanket of air over his torso, extinguishing the flames as Giovanni wiped the blood dripping from his chin.
He walked back to the corridor, focusing his senses on the scent of Beatrice and a male human. It drew him down the hall and through twisting corridors, slowly working its way toward the top deck.
“She had a man with her,” Terry noted. “A pissing scared one, at that.”
“Caught that, did you?”
“She’s no wilting flower, your girl.”
“Neither’s yours.”
Beatrice’s scent stopped right before a steel door that he knew led to the top deck, and he caught the thick musk of four male humans along with the stronger scent of human blood. It was not hers. He looked down to the pool of on the floor, following the trail to a small supply closet where a large body had been stowed.
Terry peered in. “This is the one she took up from her cabin by the smell of him. Look at his holster, empty. I bet she took his gun. That’s why he pissed himself. Good girl, B.”
“But they were intercepted. Beatrice wouldn’t have shot him in the chest if he was cooperating. Other humans must have found them.”
“Rough smelling ones at that.”
This Same Earth Page 22