The Supernaturals of Las Vegas Books 1-4

by Carrie Harris

  He’d never felt any pleasure in it. But now, if the people responsible for Liss’s disappearance stood right in front of them, he would have taken great pleasure in killing them. But not until they told him where she was.

  He met Dagmar’s eyes and saw a similar determination in them. They would find Liss. They would find her assailants, and they would obliterate them. He bared his teeth in what seemed like a smile but felt more like a declaration of war. It was a fierce baring of teeth, and he only managed to keep his fangs sheathed through sheer will.

  “Take me to the evidence, and quickly,” he said.

  He could only hope that it wasn’t entirely dry. He might be able to scent the blood and track it to Liss’s current location. But with every minute that passed, the possibility of success shrank further and further. Scents faded, even though he could swear that he would recognize the smell of her blood anywhere.

  Dagmar didn’t wait for him to ask twice. She rushed to the door and threw it open, looking back to see if Gregor was following. He wasn’t. He gave Antoine a long look, trying to figure out what to tell him.

  “Can you stay here?” he asked. “Just in case she calls? Or someone else calls with a ransom request or something of that sort. I’ll understand if you refuse. I’m sure this all seems strange. Rather outside of your job description.”

  But Antoine shook his head, his neat dreadlocks swaying to and fro with the movement. “Not at all. Most crimes are about money and power. Sometimes love, but usually the first two. You have both money and power in spades, and I suspect love might be involved here somehow too?” Gregor didn’t answer, but Antoine nodded knowingly anyway. “Frankly, it surprises me more that it’s taken this long before we hit crisis mode. I take it you don’t want me to call the police?”

  Gregor thought this over. He didn’t like to invite the police into his business unless absolutely necessary. They tended to ask uncomfortable questions like, “Why do you sleep in a bank vault?” and “Why don’t you ever come out during the daytime?” But there was a private investigator that he knew could be trusted, probably because he had secrets of his own.

  “I’d rather not. But if we’re not back in touch within the hour, I want you to phone Derek Rainier. You should be able to find him in the yellow pages; he’s a PI. I’ve used him a few times before, and he’s very discreet. I’d rather keep the casino out of the papers and resolve this quietly if we can.”

  Antoine nodded. “Can do. Let me know as soon as you find…what’s her name? The girl who’s missing?”

  “Anneliese Lorensson. She goes by ‘Liss.’”

  “Pretty name. I’ll light a candle for her. Say a prayer.”

  The statement gave Gregor pause. Not because he was so surprised that Antoine was religious, but the fact that he said anything at all about his life outside of the office was highly unusual.

  “That’s a good idea,” he said, finally heading out the door behind Dagmar. “I might try that myself.”

  “It can’t hurt,” said Antoine.

  Chapter 15

  After Tait and Chandra left her in the storeroom, it took a while for Liss to get a hold of herself. For a while, she shouted things at the door like, “How dare you do this to your own sister?!” and “What’s wrong with you?!” She may have also vented her fury by kicking at the innocent packages of napkins strewn across the floor. Then she whaled at the empty cardboard that had once housed them, sending it flying across the storeroom in what would have been a comical slow motion arc if not for the situation. As it flew, the broken flaps of the box fluttered, making it look like a drunken bird coming in for a landing. She let out a startled laugh and promptly burst into tears.

  They didn’t last long, but she felt better afterwards. It would have been awfully nice to be able to wipe her face, but with her hands cuffed behind her back, that wasn’t going to happen. Once again, the napkins came in handy, although she imagined that she looked ridiculous all crouched on the floor and rubbing her face against a package of monogrammed cocktail napkins. At least there wasn’t any security camera that she could see, so no guards were watching her at this very moment and laughing at her antics.

  The lack of cameras made her pause. It meant that either this was a hastily concocted plan, or simply a poor one. If she’d been planning this abduction, she wouldn’t leave her abductee alone even for a minute. Not even to use the bathroom. Escape would be much harder under constant guard. It wouldn’t be easy without one, but it was much more possible.

  And escape she would. She could only imagine how worried her mother must be. Her disappearance must have been discovered by now, especially given Gregor’s orders to keep an eye on her. Dagmar must be worried sick. Although Anneliese knew how unlikely it was, she still half expected her mother to burst through the door at any moment to save her.

  But that would cause problems as well as solving them, because saving one child would mean dooming the other. She couldn’t understand what on earth had gotten into Tait. Maybe he’d been a bit spoiled and willful as a child, but she could have sworn that he’d grown out of it. He’d always seemed to have her back. But now she questioned all of it. Had he really sent her the book of glyphs because he’d needed to hide it, or had he sent it to her on purpose, knowing somehow that she would be able to use it? And why had he taken it in the first place? In retrospect, his entire justification—that he’d taken the book on a dare, but when he’d tried to return it, the Librarian was on high alert to catch him—seemed awfully flimsy. Too coincidental by far.

  She shook her head fiercely. This wasn’t the time to be analyzing her brother’s behavior. While she knew that her mother and Gregor would come for her, it might not be in time. Right now, she had an opportunity to escape, and she’d be an idiot to waste it because she was trying to make sense out of her brother’s insane behavior. There would be plenty of time for psychoanalysis later. Now, she needed to take action.

  First, she’d have to test the cuffs. Tait had obviously been lying when he’d claimed to have gotten out of his. More than likely, they hadn’t been closed in the first place, and his claims of being knocked out were entirely false. But even if that was a lie, her cuffs might have some weakness that she could exploit. She’d pulled at them a bit earlier, but she hadn’t made a concerted effort at it, and she did so now.

  Unfortunately, no matter how hard she strained and pulled, she couldn’t get the cuffs to budge. She nearly dislocated her shoulder trying to twist her arms and grab onto the metal, hoping to pull them open. Eventually, she gave up, puffing slightly from the exertion.

  That was a dead end, but Liss tried not to get too worked up over it. She knew from her training sessions with her mother that staying calm was the biggest and best tool she had in a situation like this. So although she wanted to rush, she took a few moments. Closed her eyes in meditation. Focused on her breaths. Calming images of waves and trees swaying in the wind. Gregor’s kiss, feather light on her lips.

  Her eyes flew open. That line of thought wasn’t helpful at all. It wouldn’t calm her down. Quite the opposite—it would get her blood pumping and her heart racing. At a time like this, that wasn’t helpful. She’d have to think about Gregor’s kisses later.

  She put them out of her mind with effort and focused on what she knew about handcuffs. Her mother had taught her how to pick one, but it required a bobby pin or similar object—which she didn’t have—and her hands had to be cuffed in front of her so she could see what she was doing. Plus, if her earlier exertions were any indication, she wouldn’t be able to reach the keyhole without breaking her own arms to do it.

  So that was out.

  But she did remember a technique that Dagmar had taught her to escape from rope restraints. She remembered her mother’s words quite clearly: “If anyone ever tries to tie you up with a rope, tighten your muscles as hard as you can while they’re tying the bonds. Then, relax. You’ll have a little space to work with. As you struggle against the ropes, your wr
ists will bleed, which is painful, but that’s what you want. The blood will lubricate the bonds, making it easier for you to slip free.”

  They’d tried it, but her mother hadn’t tied the ropes very tight. She didn’t want Liss returning to her boarding school with rope marks around her wrists. Liss had appreciated it at the time, although now she almost wished she had the experience to draw from. It might not work on handcuffs anyway, but she had to try.

  Moving with slow deliberation, Liss began twisting her wrists, testing the bonds. The one on her left hand felt marginally looser than the one on the right, so she focused on that hand. It was difficult not to tense up as she tried to pull her arm free, but after some experimentation, she found that it worked best to pull with her right and leave her left as loose as possible. The cold metal bit into her skin, making her wince, but she ignored the pain as best as she could. Soon enough, she felt the warm wetness of blood on her fingers, and she tried to smear it around her wrist, hoping to lubricate the skin enough to slide out of the handcuff.

  The coppery tang of blood filled the air. Liss belatedly realized that maybe this plan wasn’t so intelligent in a building full of vampires. If Chandra smelled the blood and came to investigate, her opportunity for escape would be lost. But she was committed now, and there was nowhere to go but forward. It wasn’t like she could just put the blood back inside herself.

  So she persevered. Her wrist screamed with pain as she pulled harder and harder, cutting into her skin. But the bones of her hand were just too wide to fit through the cuffs. She wouldn’t be able to get out without breaking her hand. She considered it for a moment, but had to discard the idea. Even if she wanted to do it, she didn’t see any way to accomplish it. And having a broken hand would put her at a distinct disadvantage if she had to fight her way out.

  Damn. She slumped down against the wall, relaxing her aching arms, and tried not to cry out of frustration. It would be okay, she reassured herself. Maybe Chandra wouldn’t be the one to scent her blood. Maybe it would be Gregor. After all, his blood flowed in her veins too, didn’t it? Maybe he could recognize her smell, and he’d launch himself through the door any moment now, his eyes wild. His perfect hair would be in disarray; his clothes would be rumpled. He’d be driven to distraction out of worry for her, and he’d take her in his arms and ask if she was okay. He’d tear off the cuffs with his undead strength. Then he’d hold Chandra down so Liss could kick the crap out of her.

  It was a nice daydream. She even waited a moment, staring at the door expectantly, hoping it would happen. But Gregor didn’t come. Liss knew it was a silly dream, but she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

  Okay, so physical means weren’t going to get her out of the cuffs. If Chandra or Tait came in, she could try logic and charm. But in the meantime, what else did she have? Her skills at blood magic were unreliable. Still, she tried to think back to the book. There had been some glyphs of opening, the ones that Tait had so conveniently “remembered.” Her wrists were bleeding nicely. Now would be a good time to have one of those moments like she’d had at court, where the glyph just surfaced in her brain, screaming to be drawn. But she couldn’t think of anything.

  She kicked at the pile of napkins again in frustration. What good had her blood magic done her? It had made her a target and then abandoned her. All she could do was make a little pin out of blood. What good was that? Maybe if Chandra stood still for about a half an hour, Liss could poke her to death.

  It was hopeless. Liss sat back down against the wall, watching the door. Maybe she could argue with them long enough for help to come.

  Her finger tickled, a drop of blood poised on the end of it. She jerked her hand reflexively, shaking it off. Then inspiration came to her. Of course! Why hadn’t she thought of it before? She needed a pin to pick the lock. Who said it had to be an actual pin? She could make one out of blood, and maybe, just maybe, get free.

  Again, she took a moment to calm down before she tried it. The last thing she needed was to lose control, or get so excited that she couldn’t get the blood to respond to her. Only when her breathing was completely calmed did she make her first attempt. First, she focused on the feeling of the blood on her hand. It trickled down her fingers, warm and alive. The magic in it was fainter than in Gregor’s, but she could still sense it if she tried hard enough. She called to it, shaping it in her mind, drawing a calling glyph with her finger. It responded sluggishly at first, but soon she felt it running back up her hands, pooling at her wrist.

  She imagined the twisted pin shape that she wanted and drew the next glyph, trying to instruct the blood to do as she thought, but her hold on it wavered and broke. It all splattered on the ground, and she growled in frustration, pulling against the cuffs hard, urging the blood out of her veins. Soon, she had enough to try again.

  This time, she imagined shaping the blood by hand into the form she wanted. That seemed to work a bit better, and finally, she had what felt like a close approximation of the shape she needed. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel it, a red glow burning in her mind.

  Ever so carefully, she imagined sticking the pin into the keyhole. She felt it move, awkwardly tinging against the metal of the cuffs. Her aim wasn’t so great, but now she felt confident like she hadn’t before. She could do this. She had to do this. All she had to do was hold onto the blood, twist it just right, and she’d be free.

  Click!

  The pressure on her wrist released as the cuff opened. She practically sobbed with relief, pulling her arms in front of her and nearly crying out from the pins and needle sensation that came with the sudden movement. But there was no time for that either. She pushed herself to her feet, clicking the empty cuff onto her right wrist like Tait had done. Now no one could cuff her again without having to unlock it first, and she didn’t intend to let anyone get that close.

  Massaging her leaden arms, she moved toward the door. If it was locked, that would be a whole new obstacle, but one she felt like she could manage with another blood lockpick if it came to that. But the door opened easily, and she turned the knob with deliberate slowness and pulled the door open silently.

  When she took a careful look down the hall, she was relieved to see only one guard stationed at the end of the hallway. He carried a gun, so she’d put good money on his being a human. The only vampires she’d ever seen with guns had been the court guards. Most of them relied on their superior strength to overpower their opponents and considered guns to be a bit beneath them, according to her mother.

  Driven by determination and anger, Liss crept down the hall toward the guard. She’d never been great at fighting groups, but stealth attacks were her forte. She moved down the hall quickly, on catlike feet, and was behind him in a matter of seconds. Then it was a simple matter of slipping her arms around him and cutting off his wind before he could utter a single sound. The cuffs helped, digging into his throat. He gurgled and struggled against her in vain, only managing to pull out a handful of her hair. Then he fell limp in her arms, unconscious.

  As she eased him to the ground, she heard a ding from around the corner. An elevator. She looked around wildly, trying to find a place to hide, but the only door in the hallway behind her led to the storeroom. There was nowhere to go. She dropped into a fighting crouch as footsteps approached her.

  When Gregor and Dagmar came running around the corner, she nearly clotheslined her own mother.

  Chapter 16

  The scent of Liss’s blood was faint and old, and so it took a lot of trial and error for Gregor to track it. He and Dagmar made the assumption that her abductors wouldn’t drag a bleeding, unconscious woman through the public areas of the casino, so that narrowed down the possibilities. And if the assailant was a vampire, there were even fewer places where they might want to be seen engaging in illegal activities, since humans might pick up on their differences. Still, Gregor had designed this building with vampires in mind, and so there were five underground floors which fit the
profile. They searched each one, trying to hurry while still making a thorough search of the area. Gregor’s heart no longer beat in his chest, but he swore it felt like it was pounding harder with every moment that passed.

  They found success on the third attempt. Liss had been dragged down a hallway. He found a couple spots of blood, and Dagmar pulled some strands of long blonde hair from a door frame where it must have gotten snagged. She’d gone down this hallway, and over to a service elevator, and then…

  More searching, more dead ends. But finally, the door opened into the lowest sub-basement, where more blood spatter awaited them. This smelled different to Gregor’s nose—it wasn’t Liss’s blood at all. But the gore still suggested to him that they were in the right place. Maybe Liss had fought back. Maybe she was in trouble this very moment, and she needed him.

  He couldn’t help it. He broke into a run, Dagmar close on his heels. The hallway before him was empty, and so he sprinted, his fangs coming out as he thought about the things he would do when he caught the person who had hurt her. He flew around the corner, nearly tripping over the prone body on the floor. Then, Liss flew at Dagmar and almost took her off her feet. If not for Dagmar’s quick sidestep, she would have gone down hard.

  They’d found her.

  Gregor took in Liss’s appearance in one quick glance—the bloody wrists, the dirty face, the wild look in her eyes. The moment she realized who they were nearly broke his heart. She looked so relieved, so vulnerable, that he wanted to take her in his arms and shield her from the world. He took a step toward her out of instinct, and then she threw herself into her mother’s arms.

  “I knew you’d come!” she exclaimed.

  Now that her daughter was found, Dagmar settled almost instantly back into her usual unflappable calm, but he could still see the anger in her eyes. It matched his own. But she kept it under wraps, folding her arms around Liss and kissing the top of her head.