Malice and Madness (The Hunter Vampire Chronicles Book 2)

by Juliet Boyd

  “Seriously, are you trying to get me killed?”

  “I’ll do it, then.”

  “No.”

  Ellie crossed her arms.

  “Do I have to? Won’t that make other people, you know, suspect something?”

  “As if they don’t already.”

  Flynn let out a deep breath and stiffly lowered herself down. She felt around for the creature’s body and it flinched. She flinched back, big time. She waited again for the slash. Nothing came. She let her hand stroke the length of its back. It felt greasy, nobbly. Disgusting. Flynn glared at Ellie. She placed her hands around the cat’s middle and lifted it. There was no resistance. It fell into the crook of her arm, like any other cat might. A sound, that could’ve been a purr, whispered on the breeze.

  “This is so weird,” she said.

  “Seems like it wants to go below ground.”

  Flynn nodded.

  They waited until no one else was visible in the vicinity and opened the manhole cover.

  Chapter 12

  Bones was at the point of losing all hope. Not a state he enjoyed. It wasn’t for the want of trying, but there were only so many times you could roam a space looking for answers when there were none that made any sense. Food had arrived twice, he assumed at normal human mealtimes. It was difficult to tell. Blood bags for him had been included, although the taste was a little sour, as if the donor had a penchant for lemons. Just as the others had said, it had appeared somewhere random. Always somewhere they weren’t. And silent. That was the thing that disturbed him most. The place echoed with every movement. There was nothing to dampen the sound. No carpets. No curtains — well, no windows. And yet, he hadn’t heard a thing. Not even a clink of a plate being placed on a surface.

  At first, he’d been wary, thinking poison, or drugs, but hunger overtook him. Plus, he had no desire to find out what kind of blood his new companions had running through their veins. That wouldn’t be good for public relations, and if they weren’t human .…

  Nothing to pass the time, but talk to the others. Nothing to talk about to them, because they had no idea what he was talking about, and always brought the subject back to madness and food. Thinking was the final resort. Picking. Dissecting. Conspiricising.

  He had to get out of there. There had to be a way.

  ###

  The cat thing wouldn’t let go of her. Flynn tried to put it down, but it clung onto her clothes with its claws, raking holes in the fabric. It didn’t like being down in the sewers any more than she did — she’d tried not breathing, but the smell seemed to permeate your skin and gross you out from the inside — and yet, the cat had asked to be brought down. Possibly. Cat language wasn’t her speciality.

  She turned to Ellie. “Do you think it wants us to take it somewhere specific down here?”

  “It’s difficult to tell anything when it’s invisible. Can’t even see the body language.”

  A shimmer of light brought the feline into focus one piece at a time. First its head — that was bizarre beyond laughter — followed by its limbs, and finally its torso and tail. Its fur glowed slightly, giving it a ghostly appearance. It looked up into Flynn’s face. It wasn’t as ugly as she’d first thought. It looked scared. It seemed to be silently asking her for something.

  Or not so silently.

  A voice pushed itself into her mind without taking no for an answer. Damn it. Her vampire side really was distorting her abilities. She tried to relax and allow the words to coalesce.

  “Straight ahead,” it said, in thready syllables.

  She lifted her head, looked toward the end of the tunnel. She sighed. What else could they do? “This way.”

  “But—”

  “It’s … brain-speaking.”

  “You mean telepathy?”

  “Same thing.”

  “No it’s not. It could be compelling you.”

  It could. Double damn. “Can that really happen?”

  “You did it to Rag.”

  “Oh. Yes.” Triple damn. Flynn studied the cat a little longer. “I don’t think that’s what it’s doing, but if it won’t let go, I suppose it amounts to the same thing.”

  Ellie sniggered. They began to walk.

  The cat directed them through many lefts and rights, until Flynn was completely confused about where they were. Luckily, manhole covers weren’t rare. There was always a way out. On what turned out to be the final turn, she felt the body of the creature tense. The claws extended even further, grazing her flesh. She yelled at the cat. It spat at her. Helpful.

  At the end of the tunnel was a door, but her eyes couldn’t quite put it into perspective. It looked out of place. Over the top and old-fashioned. Her skin tingled all over, to the point of discomfort.

  “This place is full of magic,” she said.

  “Be careful,” Ellie said.

  “Be careful,” the cat echoed.

  Flynn looked down at the cat. “More info on what to be careful about would be useful. Can you give me that?”

  It didn’t. She started toward the door, as slowly as she could bear, her eyes scanning left and right and ahead.

  She stepped into what she thought was a shallow puddle of water.

  Chapter 13

  Ellie froze. The cat was still there, standing in the puddle. It came no higher than its ankles. But Flynn, she had disappeared. It was as if the water had swallowed her up, dragged her down, submerged her within the blink of an eye. Because that was how long it had taken. One blink. No thrashing, screaming, time to do anything at all.

  She knelt down and stared at the water. It wasn’t murky. She tentatively put her hand in. It felt like water. She reached out for the floor of the tunnel. It was solid. A rat scuttled past and she jumped.

  The cat stood watching, its body tense.

  This made no sense. There was no logic to it. There was always logic. It was what made the world go round. It was the only way to rationalise the life she’d been a part of for all this time.

  If you couldn’t find a physical reason for a supposed impossibility, magic had to be involved. Flynn didn’t have time to counteract whatever it was.

  Who? What? The cat?

  “What happened?” she screamed at it. Her voice echoed down the tunnel. “What did you do?”

  The cat didn’t answer her. It shook its head and padded toward the door, then looked back, as if it were calling her on. She ran her foot through the puddle, trying to find a trap door, something. There was nothing. Flynn had disappeared. The magic had to be bad.

  The cat yowled, beckoning. Was that the answer? She stamped her foot and water splashed everywhere. Against her better judgement, she followed.

  Chapter 14

  Rag knocked. The door opened with a menacing slowness. The tall, dark woman he knew to be Malice, stood before him, arms crossed, a thin smile on her lips. “I didn’t think you’d be tricked so easily. You do know that appearances can be deceiving? It’s one of the first things they teach you in supernatural school.”

  He faked a smile, his fangs on full display, then wiped it away. It wasn’t the best way for a conversation to start. She continued.

  “My mother, that’s her you met up there, is not meek, as she portrays. That’s why you’re down here. You let her touch you. Big mistake. She is strong. She is powerful. She is cruel. She’s obsessed with guillotines. You’ve been tricked. Cajoled. Duped. Whatever word you want to use for blatant stupidity. I’m not the dangerous one your Overlord thinks I am. I was just someone who got caught, drunk, on a night out, somewhere I shouldn’t have been. Whereas, she most certainly is.”

  Rag spent a few moments digesting her words, still on high alert. “No, she looks nothing like you.”

  I changed my appearance. Sue me. I didn’t ever claim to be a lily-white witch. We all have our vanities.”

  “But you’re the one on the list. She’s—”

  “Yes, I’m on the list. Don’t you think I know that? One coming of age dare.
Go to the Overland and have a bit of fun.”

  “That isn’t what she said.”

  “Right. Getting captured wasn’t part of the deal, but it happened. Life’s shit sometimes. The thing is, I don’t belong up there. I don’t even want to be there. I’m not a threat to your world. However, my mother is a threat to you. My punishment for my indiscretions is a few days in solitary, for bringing the Underland into disrepute. Pah! But you, you’re as trapped as I was up there. Better get used to it. This is now your life. Well, for as long as you live, which won’t be long.”

  She sounded sincere, which made Rag uncomfortable. He was beginning to believe he had been tricked, but what trick, and when? He didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks. He didn’t want to die. A shudder of vampiric anger ran through him. He wanted to let rip. He didn’t. He needed to know more. He needed to decide which side he ought to be on, and which gave the best method of escape. He had no one else to rely upon but himself. If he got this wrong, there was no future.

  “But you are a witch?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, you could get me out of here?”

  “No.”

  “I could make you get me out of here.”

  She threw a blast of energy at him. He stumbled back, hitting the wall first with the small of his back, and then his head and limbs. He couldn’t move, and not for the want of trying. “I could, possibly, get you out of here, but that isn’t how it works. Now, if you agree to help me get rid of her, mother dearest, then we could have a deal.”

  “You want to kill your mother?”

  She opened her arms at the dank cellars around her. “Wouldn’t you? I’ve spent half my life down here, for one thing or another. We bypassed naughty steps and standing in the corner. She can draw me back here with a flick of her wrist. She sure as hell doesn’t love me.”

  Rag considered for a moment. What choice did he have? He was too hungry to argue. “Deal.”

  Chapter 15

  Flynn had the urge to cough out water, except her lungs were clear. She was lying on a cold floor, face down. She could sense someone, but her head hurt and she couldn’t quite work out the reality of her thoughts. She rolled over and came face to boot. The boot looked familiar.

  “Welcome to the ranks of the impure.”

  She recognised the voice. “Bones?”

  Her head jolted up. A bad idea with a thumping headache. She must’ve hit her head. She touched her scalp. There was a bump, painful to the touch. That had better heal quickly.

  “Where am I?”

  “I told you. In the ranks of the impure. You had a bath. It didn’t clean out your impurities. You came here.”

  Bath? She did remember water, gushing water. Still, he was talking in riddles, or he’d gone mad, and she hated riddles.

  “I know it doesn’t make sense. I don’t understand it, but neither of us are pure, and neither are they.” Bones nodded his head at three other — people probably wasn’t the right word — standing behind him. Their proportions seemed wrong. “We weren’t allowed to pass. I have no idea what’s behind that door at the end of the tunnel, but whatever it is, they don’t want us in there.”

  “There?”

  “Through the door. You saw the door?”

  Yes, the door, at the end of the weird tunnel. “But … did you see a cat?”

  Bones raised an eyebrow. “A cat? No. Why?”

  “I was holding a cat when this happened.”

  “A pure cat,” said the tall man in the corner. “Marchmont.” He added, and bowed, as if he were from some former century. Was that his name, or something to do with the cat?

  “I’ve no idea. Looked pretty mangy to me.”

  “I was hoping,” Bones said, “That, seeing as you’re here, you might be able to use a little magic to get us out.”

  “Right. How long have I been here?”

  “No way of knowing. It feels like hours. Might only be minutes.”

  “And what is this place?”

  “A prison with no external windows, doors, hatches, trapdoors, bricks you can hack out, planks you can pull away, tools you can use—”

  “Okay, stop. We’re trapped. I get it. I need to think.”

  And get rid of the damned headache.

  ###

  The door had led them into darkness. It was either night, or a world where light didn’t exist. The cat didn’t seem to care. It picked its way through the boggy ground, of what seemed to be a forest, getting barely a spot of mud on itself. Ellie followed its steps exactly, not wanting to fall foul of some hidden pit. It smelled worse than the sewers and felt a lot more threatening. She had arrived in a place where she had no idea what was considered good or bad, where creatures far worse than the ones they were looking for might be lurking, on the off-chance that this was where Flynn had disappeared to. And Bones. And Rag. She shook her head in despair at herself. There was nothing logical in her actions and it disturbed her.

  They walked for miles. The terrain remained the same. They weren’t attacked. She didn’t see any other life, but she was trying not to look. If she looked, she might … she ought to be able to put up a fight whatever was out there, but that didn’t mean she wanted to. If only they’d let her die, so that her conscience wasn’t constantly torn in two.

  The castle exploded out of the dense vegetation so suddenly that she yelped. She’d had no idea it was there. She couldn’t see much, given the darkness. This was such an unpleasant place. She hoped they were going inside, although there was no guarantee that was any better. Danger came in many forms.

  She lowered her voice, almost spitting out the words. “Is this where Flynn is?”

  There was no reply.

  The ball of dirt and matted fur skirted around the building to what she assumed was the back, as it seemed less grand, although she wouldn’t have been able to say why, and began to scratch at the ground. Ellie crouched down to look. The creature was pulling away at the soil. She could see a handle. She reached out and pulled it. She expected it to creak and stick. It didn’t. It had been used frequently. With an almost silent whoosh, a door opened in the side of the building, a little like secret doors did behind bookcases in all the old TV dramas, but not quite so convenient. It was only big enough to crawl through, unless you were a small animal. The cat leapt through. She hesitated for a moment. Was this the right thing to do? Was she putting herself in more danger by entering the building? If she waited too long, the cat would be gone. She let her fangs descend in preparation for the worst, and followed.

  Inside, it was like a maze. Room after room. Corridor after corridor. They went left and right, up and down, never passing the same space twice. The silence was disconcerting. The lack of people, unnatural. Paintings stared at her, trophy heads seemed to nod, wallpaper flowers reached out. Imagination could be a terrible thing in the wrong environment.

  “Where are we going?”

  The cat gave no indication it had heard, and didn’t stop.

  Chapter 16

  Witches. Rag couldn’t get away from them. Good. Bad. Mad. Was he a witch magnet? Malice was nothing like Flynn. More like her aunt. He could feel the evil dripping off her every movement. She might not want to go back to … his normal, but she was no innocent. That wasn’t what concerned him the most. Malice was locked up down there and couldn’t get out on her own. That meant her mother, the queen, was much more powerful. Eviler, if that was even a word. That weedy little woman could take them both down with the blink of an eye. He shuddered. Never judge a supernatural by their outer appearance. He was glad he hadn’t known what she was like when he entered the building. Confidence was everything.

  “Why didn’t she just kill me?” he asked. Because, really, why?

  Malice shrugged, but didn’t turn toward him. Instead, she fiddled with a pen on a solid oak desk, which was a little worse for wear, like everything seemed to be down in the basement. But she had furniture. This was no mediaeval jail. “She likes sport. Don’t we
all.”

  “That depends on the odds. She expects us to fight?”

  “Yes.”

  The way she said it was so matter of fact that it took him aback. “She’s done that before?”

  “Yes. She wants me dead, as much as I want her dead, but it would look unseemly if it were by her hand. You can’t kill all your subjects for bad-mouthing you, because then you have no power at all.”

  “But it wouldn’t be unseemly for you?”

  “All I need to do is show them this. I’m the victim.” She waved a hand at her cell.

  He did a full turn around the room, eyes scanning every inch of everything. The dim light gave it an eerie perspective.

  “Is she watching?”

  “Most likely.”

  “How?”

  “She’s a powerful witch. Work it out.”

  He had a vision in his head of him on a widescreen TV. Except, it would just be Malice, talking to an empty space. Were there spells to make vampires appear on film? Wouldn’t that be annoying? He shook his head. Distracting himself from the point wasn’t a good path. “Then, how are we ever going to get out?”

  “We aren’t. You are.” She winked. Her eyes widened. Her mother was listening in? Of course.

  She took his hand, her magical signature not nearly as present on his skin as her mother’s, and led him over to a curtained area at the back of the room. Behind it was a basic toilet. His nose wrinkled. “I don’t need to pee.” And especially not in front of a dark witch.

  “Not yet.”

  She put a finger to her lips, pulled the curtain right around, so the area was as dark as it could be, and touched his neck gently with the tips of her fingers. He flinched as a rush of electric power ran through his body. It wasn’t unpleasant. It was a little like drinking blood, without the moment of ecstasy. “What was—”

  She pulled back the curtain, put her finger to her lips.

  He blinked. He was seeing things. He was seeing himself. She took a tiny compact out of his pocket — huh? — and opened it. She regarded herself with a look of distaste and snapped it closed again and returned it to his pocket. He looked down at her shoes, her designer jeans, her sparkly belt, and winced. He’d become a fashion disaster without even trying. He kicked off the heels. There was no way he was tottering around.