Or maybe the ordeal had driven her insane, rendering her of no use to his hunt whatsoever.
Sighing over the possibility, Stephan knew there was only one way to remove all doubt, grabbing a bag of blood from his duffel which he took to the casket. Lifting it up to hang on a metal hoop meant to hold flowers gracing the front of a chamber above the corpse's, he inserted the end of the tube between her lips and stepped back.
Slowly, the line turned red as the liquid flowed downwards, eventually reaching the woman's mouth—and Stephan was scowling the entire while.
Actually feeding a vampire was disgusting, and about as far from his idea of fun as one could get—not that fun was a priority. Stephan could only barely recall a time when he'd regularly gone out for it, or even the person he'd been back then—and he didn't want to. Memories of Ellen were always the first to come to mind, and they offered little joy.
After their parents died in a plane accident when he was ten and Ellen was six months old, the two had lived together with Tom, a close family friend who was like an uncle. But Stephan never wanted to overburden him, and eagerly picked up as many responsibilities as possible if only because Ellen was all he had left of his family.
Such devotion formed a strong bond between them despite their age difference, and they had fun together on a regular basis. Friday night movies followed by cream soda floats from a local diner were a particular favorite.
Sometimes, it even felt as if he'd had a daughter instead of a sister, particularly when taking her to dance lessons. But they'd definitely argued the way normal siblings did—and damned if Ellen wasn't a prankster.
She'd once painted his bar of soap with clear fingernail polish. It took Stephan several minutes to figure out what was going on, and when he finally yelled her name, her laughter could be heard all the way down the hall.
But that life was gone now, and Stephan's most recent memory of Ellen was cradling her lifeless body to his chest, begging whatever higher power was listening to undo what had been done.
From that moment on, fun no longer mattered. Only finding the vampires responsible did, and there was just one left, the same one who'd killed his sister and made it a point to show him.
So if feeding this corpse brought him closer to his goal, that's what he'd do.
At the thought, Stephan heard a chuff, and glanced over to see that the corpse's mouth had closed around the tube, confirming it beyond a doubt. Vampire, he thought, both repulsed and relieved at once. She was taking to the blood like an addict, and he groaned audibly, his back hitting the wall as he pulled a flask from his inner coat pocket.
Unscrewing the cap, he raised it and muttered, “Cheers,” then downed the whiskey inside, hoping to keep himself from thinking too hard on what he was doing.
Still, he had to wonder what exactly this Maddox might've known that Lillian didn't want getting out. Maybe it would help his search, or maybe she wouldn't be willing to even share the information, there was simply no way to know until he got Maddox back to the compound.
There, he'd give her just enough blood to revive her, but not enough to let her fully regenerate, offering them plenty of time to discuss the matter—and an alliance, for better or worse.
He couldn't decide which.
♦ ♦ ♦
Blood, rich and thick. A spark of awareness ignited in her mind, and for the first time in what seemed like centuries, Maddox could feel life seeping into her body.
And she needed more.
Her thoughts were cloudy, instinctual, knowing only enough to realize she was highly displeased whenever that source of life was removed from her lips, and nearly ecstatic when it returned. Whatever was going on, she hoped it didn't stop, the blood being fed into her body like an injection of spirit straight into her dormant heart.
Her hunger was so insatiable it was painful, but there seemed to be an unending supply of nourishment, and furthermore, it was clean. Had she actually died and gone to some heaven for vampires? Sutrelle?
Wherever she was, something good was happening, and it was certainly no memory resurfacing during a lengthy hibernation.
“At least you're looking less corpse-like now,” came an unfamiliar voice that added in a gruff mutter, “fucking vampires.”
Maddox couldn't will her eyes to open and see who'd thrown the insult at her, but any offense she'd taken was lost in her hazy thoughts momentarily. She was far more centered on the blood anyway, as well as her anxiousness to recover from her prolonged dormancy.
All of her muscles were stiff, her bones brittle, making even the simple task of flexing her fingers a chore at first. But the more blood she got, the easier it became, and the more her thoughts cleared until she was fully aware—just as the blood source ran dry.
Such consciousness almost seemed intrusive after spending so long living only in memories, and the first question that came to mind was to wonder where she was. The surface she lay upon was decidedly soft, like a bed, meaning her new surroundings were a vast improvement.
Yet, it also proved that someone had not only pulled her out of the grave and transported her to gods-knew-where, but also fed her blood to revive her.
Why? Were they still present? Currently, all was silent, and she tried to think back, to figure out just how long she might've been out of commission, hoping it would shed some light on the current situation.
Her last memories were of angrily clawing and punching the inside of a sarcophagus while screaming for her sire at the top of her lungs. Somehow, she'd been sealed inside, and knew in her gut that it was Lillian's doing. But regardless of the culprit's identity, her worry had been less for herself, and more for Mathias.
Was he okay? Still sealed inside the sarcophagus where he'd gone to rest?
The questions were overwhelming, and too numerous for contentment, causing Maddox's red eyes to suddenly shoot open.
Despite her impaired vision, she quickly sat up and turned to stand—too soon. Her legs weren't ready to support the weight, or even make such quick movements, causing her to fall off of the bed and onto a softly carpeted floor.
“Easy, vampire. Just calm down.”
The sudden statement caused her to jerk in surprise. She'd doubted she was alone, but hadn't initially sensed anyone nearby, rasping in demand, “Who … the fuck are you?”
And damn, did it hurt to talk, like the air was made of jagged rocks in her throat.
“I'm the asshole who brought you back,” came the man's response, “but don't mistake it for charity. I won't hesitate to blow your head off and put you right back in that coffin. We'll see how easily the next guy can feed you without a mouth.”
He freed me? But he's a human. With her hunger so intense, it wasn't hard to detect the scent of his blood. So was he just some lackey? A potential blood slave working to buy his freedom?
Whatever the answers to her numerous questions, Maddox had more pressing problems. Still on her hands and knees, she slowly turned her head to look up, and her murky vision didn't matter—the barrel of a shotgun aimed right at her face was close enough to clearly make out.
It wasn't like any other shotgun she'd ever seen, however, possessing three barrels instead of two, which was overkill at such a close range. Regardless, one blast would easily blow her head off completely, and all it would take then was a shot to the heart to put her down—permanently.
The unsavory thought filled Maddox with both concern, and determination. No matter how long she'd been sealed inside that tomb, she'd be damned if she was brought back only to be killed.
Staying completely still, she attempted looking past the barrel in order to see who was holding it. Yet all she detected were blobs, leaving her clueless as to just how intent the man was on pulling the trigger if she made any moves.
So she rasped the question, “Can I at least get up?”
“If your legs feel up to it, be my guest.”
Hearing this, Maddox reached for the edge of the bed and pulled. Still a bit too wo
bbly to stand, she opted to sit on the mattress instead, and no matter how much she swayed, the mortal's weapon stayed pointed at her head. At full health, it would've been easy for her to move fast enough to disarm him, but now, her weakness gave him the upper hand.
What did he want? And if her mobility was a problem, why hadn't he just confined her to begin with? Shackling her arms before giving her just enough blood to wake her up would've been ideal, but he'd left her free, which had to mean the weapon was only for self defense.
As soon as she was back on the mattress, she decided to ask over it. “Why haven't you simply killed me already?”
The man grumbled as if he'd questioned it himself. “Wanted to see if you'd behave first.”
At that, Maddox scoffed, thankful that her continually healing throat didn't painfully protest this time. “Behave? I don't know what you want, but if you were expecting obedience, you revived the wrong vampire.”
“That so?” he asked on a tone that not only proved he was ready to pull the trigger, but eager for it.
Still, Maddox didn't flinch, or offer any signs of her true frustration, letting an impatient sigh before insisting, “Get on with it, human. Why did you revive me?”
Despite her feigned indifference, she was extremely curious over what answer he might give, and also hoped that by the time he was done, she would've recovered a good bit more—not that she believed he'd given her enough blood to fully regenerate. Maddox was much too ravenous to think otherwise, yet she kindly decided not to attempt drinking from the mortal before her if only because he'd freed her.
But that verdict would quickly change if he offered an explanation she didn't like.
At least her vision was finally clearing enough to allow her to see the outline of his face and what looked like brown hair crowning his head. He was large for a human, but only average height, and seemed to be wearing an eye patch over his right eye. The rest was still too fuzzy to make out.
But she stopped trying the moment he offered an answer.
“Two words. Lillian Deavlis.”
It was a good thing he'd spoken that name before Maddox had fully recovered, otherwise she would've snapped in a blind rage. Even in her current condition, she nearly darted up from her place on the bed, stumbling to her feet while demanding, “Where is she!”
“Don't know, yet,” the human returned, “but I was told you'd want her dead, and I can see it's true, meaning we have something in common. Surprisingly.”
“Who told you that?”
“One of her lackeys I captured said they helped her bury you.”
“Then … ,” she trailed, narrowing her brows, “you weren't sent by—”
“If you suggest I'm working with that bitch, I'll kill you,” he stated on the most serious tone of voice she'd ever heard, even in comparison to Mathias. It was incredibly cold, disdainful, and … rather impressive for a human.
But Maddox didn't find it hard to believe that Lillian had made an enemy out of him, particularly after her own suffering at the magistrate's hands. If this human's attitude thus far was any indication, she also guessed he'd never met a single vampire who'd treated him as anything other than food, or worse. Like Mathias said, we'll always suffer for the sins of the rest.
The thought of her sire caused a pang of worry to stab into her dormant heart. In her blood, she knew Mathias was still alive—or as alive as an entombed vampire could be—and somehow, she had to return to King's Forest Cemetery to try determining his fate.
But it was still too soon to ask this human anything about it. If Mathias had been trapped the same way as Maddox, and this mortal didn't already know, he could easily find the vampire during the day and use him against her.
So she didn't speak a word of it, suggesting instead, “It seems like Lillian's not the only vampire you hate, yet you want me to believe you tugged me out of the grave to … what? Ask for my help finding her?”
“Believe whatever you want, but if you don't help me, I'll put you back in the grave, permanently.”
As he spoke, Maddox's vision came fully into focus, allowing her to see his face in detail—and damn, was he a ragged one. His chestnut hair was long, tied back in messy waves, his beard was mangy, and his clothing was worn, not to mention a bit strange looking.
But most intriguingly, he actually appeared to be blind. While his right eye was indeed covered by a black leather patch, his left was a murky silver, suggesting he'd sustained an injury that might've robbed him of his sight. There was even a scar marring the right side of his face, intensifying the effect of his stern expression.
Whatever this man's story was, it was plain to see that he wasn't joking, might not even own a sense of humor outright, and she didn't doubt for a moment that he'd be as good as his word.
But if he loathed vampires, then she loathed vulnerability. So this situation wouldn't do.
It was just a matter of finding the right strings to pull.
5
♦ ♦ ♦
Despite his initial reservations, Stephan actually felt as if he was getting somewhere for the first time in quite a while.
The process of bringing Maddox to the underground residence at The Bastion compound had been a pain in the ass, but her anger over the mention of Lillian's name made the effort seem worthwhile. Perhaps she would offer assistance, and for as galling as the idea of working with a vampire was, Stephan could use the help.
He was also glad Maddox hadn't called his bluff. He may have been under orders to keep her alive, but she didn't need to know that, and making her think her life was on the line gave him a better idea of what to expect from working with her.
Maddox didn't seem to be affected by his threats either, but he knew better than to think they had no impact. Human or vampire, no one would appreciate the thought of being put down for good after such a long confinement, meaning she was probably scheming under a guise of indifference.
And he loathed her for it.
Sadly, her next suggestion made it difficult to tell if she was simply testing his resolve, or had something else up her sleeve entirely.
“You must not want to find Lillian very badly if you're so eager to pull the trigger on someone you think could help.” Her accent was more British than American, lending her statements an air of authority despite her decrepit condition. “How long have you been hunting her?”
Stephan's irritation over the fruitless time he'd spent searching caused him to grate, “Five years.”
With a mildly amused expression, Maddox shook her head, a movement that made the rolls of hair at her crown bob. “Lillian was always evasive. What resources have you used to track her down?”
“Several, and as you'd probably guess, turning to another vampire for help was a last resort.”
“So it seems,” Maddox stated, the withered lines around her mouth lifting at the corners in a smile as she added, “and as you'd guess, there's not much I can do when I'm starving and weaker than a mortal.”
Stephan did know it, pointing out, “You don't have to do much more than talk right now.”
At that, the vampire folded her arms over her chest and lifted her head back, asking, “Oh? Then you think I have some information on a secret lair that Lillian might be using? Or that I know all of her habits?”
“I'm sure you know something I could put to use.”
As he spoke, the vampire looked down and began giving herself a once over, taking exception to the state of her dirty dress and even the wrinkled, blotchy skin of her hands with a regretful sigh. It made him think she'd led a pampered life, or was at least used to having more luxurious things, particularly at her next proposal.
“I'll make you a deal, human. Allow me to feed and change clothes, and I'll talk to you about whatever you'd like until the sun rises.”
Stephan scoffed at the request, still aiming his shotgun at her head while testing the waters by asking, “Why? So you can change your mind the minute you're strong enough and try to kill m
e?”
It was in that moment that he saw something he never thought he'd witness—frustration on a vampire's face. Though Maddox had every right to be irritated considering he held the upper hand, the fact that she let it show was surprising.
Or she was playing an angle.
“Isn't that why you pulled me out of the grave? To make a deal by saving me in return for assistance? Or are you going to kill me anyway?”
“I pulled you out for—”
“For information,” she interrupted. “But I don't even know what year it is, nor did I know who entombed me for certain until you confirmed it. So what the fuck do you want me to tell you, exactly?” With each word, her voice had risen in volume, until she yelled, “The way the inside of a coffin smells after you've been there for more than a week?”
Stephan kept his face masked with indifference, but much to his irritation, she was right, and so was Ardilon—Maddox knew nothing revealing. In fact, if she were to even have a shot at helping in his hunt, she'd need to learn how the world worked after her prolonged slumber.
The thought quickly stole any sense of optimism Stephan had gained in realizing Maddox wanted Lillian dead as well. He didn't have time to babysit a vampire, nor did he want to.
But there was no choice in the matter, not if he wanted to remain a votary and continue his search.
Scowling, he finally lowered his weapon and stored it in his jacket. There was no point to intimidating Maddox further—as if his threats carried any weight to begin with.
Once the weapon was put away, Maddox remarked, “It's nice to see you believe me.”
“Why the hell wouldn't I?” Stephan asked as he crossed the room to kneel at his duffel bag near the door. “You've only been buried for seventy years, meaning you wouldn't even know how to work a phone, let alone be able to help track a centuries-old vampire.”
In response, Maddox gasped as if distraught, whispering, “Seventy years?”
For some reason he couldn't begin to explain, Stephan regretted the callous way he'd given her the facts, which worsened his bad mood. Maddox's feelings didn't matter. She was just another undead parasite, and the only thing that made her special was Ardilon's decree that she remain alive.
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