The woman blinked a few times, then said, “I’ll get you some silverware” and turned to hurry back inside.
Wolf lunged forward, grabbed the door and slammed it closed. Then he spun around and ran, and Sheena followed, trying hard not to spill the food as they went.
The alley behind the row of brick buildings ran behind and between them, but there were barricades of crisscrossed wire with wood slats woven through it. Not really barricades at all for them, of course. Wolf jumped, and Sheena followed, and only then did they slow down. They crouched low, staring through the tiny openings in the barricade at that closed door as they scooped food from their plates and devoured it. Yellow eggs, tiny lengths of spicy meats, and what seemed like some kind of potato, prepared in a way they’d never tasted before. Sliced thin, and seasoned and cooked so that the outsides were crispy and brown. There were muffins, great giant sweet ones with dark purple berries inside, and a crumbly sweet coating on top. Never had Sheena tasted anything like this fare, and she knew Wolf hadn’t either.
There was more than she could hope to eat. More than three people could, she thought, and wished for a way to save the leftover food.
The door opened again. Sheena set her plate down and leaned closer to the barricade to peek through. The female stood there looking around for them, worry on her face and a large bag in her arms. Then, sighing, she carried her sack out from the door, all the way to the very back of the alley and set it down. Lifting her head, she looked around. “There are drinks in here. Some silverware, some storage containers and things. And a few dollars and change.” Then she went back inside and closed the door.
Sheena looked at Wolf. “Was she speaking to us?”
“I think so,” he said.
“She’s giving us things. I don’t know what most of them are.”
“She’s baiting a trap for us. If we go over there, someone will pounce on us for sure.”
“Who? She’s old and fat.”
“The men inside aren’t.”
“Still, they’re only humans.” Sheena set her plate aside and jumped over the barrier, dashed the rest of the way, snatched the bag and raced back. When she landed, she wasn’t even breathing hard. “Watch the door,” she said. “I’ll see what’s inside.”
“No, never mind. They could come from the front. And look, this building has a door too. We should get away from here.”
Sheena was dying to see what was in the bag, but she knew better than to take risks. Wolf was right. She picked up her plate, unwilling to leave it behind, and carried the bag in her free hand. Wolf had devoured every crumb of his, so he left the plate behind.
Behind the row of buildings and the fence, there was a road with another fence on the other side of it. Humans certainly were fond of fences and walls, Sheena thought. They leaped the walls easily, waited for several speeding vehicles to pass by, and then raced across and vaulted the second barrier. This put them into a weed-strewn field with a forest of trees at its far end. That would provide cover, so that was where they went, into the trees.
The woods smelled of pine and earth, and were filled with birdsong. She hadn’t even known what birds were until the vampires had pointed them out to her on the upper decks of the Anemone. And these were quite different from the ones at sea. Tiny, flitting about, hopping on tree branches, and singing in ways far too big and loud to come from such small creatures. Sheena listened in rapt amazement, and couldn’t help but smile at the beauty of the sounds. She nodded slowly.
“This is where we’ll be safe,” she told Wolf. “This can be our home.”
Devlin had precious little time before dawn. He headed back through the halls of the sub-level prison, moving fast and silent. Taking a sharp right, rather than going straight ahead to check the other cells for captives was a difficult decision, but necessary. And Devlin always did what was necessary. At least almost always. Surely blasting past the crows, leaping the fence, and racing to safety before dawn was the wise course of action. But there was something in him. Something that trumped many lifetimes of living by his own simple set of rules. He did what was necessary for self-preservation first, for the preservation of his kind, second, and for anyone else, only when unavoidable.
Somehow, Emma’s well-being had reared up in him, demanding it be treated with more importance than his own. And he knew, in spite of himself, that it wasn’t just because of her blood type.
He headed back along the hallway they had dragged him through while he’d been mostly unconscious, but vaguely aware. He paid attention this time. There were three doors, two on the right, one on the left. And he took hold of the knob for the one on the left and twisted, easily breaking the lock. He didn’t hear an audible alarm or sense a silent one, which did not guarantee a light wasn’t flashing on some screen somewhere else in the secret compound.
It might very well have been. All the more reason to be fast. He had no intention of leaving this place without Emma. He just had to find a way....
The first room was an office. Cinderblock walls painted green, steel file cabinets and desk in the same shade of olive drab. Stark, efficient, and ugly. He opened the computer’s tower with no more than a yank, removed its hard drive, and tucked it into a pocket. Then he ducked out, closing the door behind him. The two rooms on the right were next. One of them was identical to the office, except more barren. It held a rectangular table and a couple of chairs. He didn’t bother searching it. There was very little to search.
Then he opened the door of the third room, and what he saw startled him so much that he froze for a moment. Its walls were white and lined in glass-fronted cabinets that contained an assortment of instruments and drugs in vials. In its center, beneath a stainless steel dome light he imagined would be blinding when lit, stood a padded table that had brown leather restraints at four points. A gleaming tray bearing a small square of white fabric stood beside the table, empty at the moment.
It was an operating room. As that reality hit his gut, he felt sick inside, and even more determined not to leave Emma here in this place. But he shook off his queasiness and went to the cabinets to examine the vials there. BDX. Protectol. VT-3, VT-3X, Diurnol 2.0, BD-Voile, and more.
He pulled the instrument tray closer, noisily dumping a vial of each drug onto it, then gathering the white cloth around them all and tying a knot. And then he turned to head back out into the hallway only to come face to face with a tall, strong, handsome mortal man who smelled of vampire and something else. Something Devlin had never encountered before. He wore the uniform of a military officer.
“Come with me now,” he said. “They’re coming for you.”
Devlin narrowed his eyes. “Who the hell–”
“My name is Willem Stone and I’m a friend. We have to go. Now.”
Devlin shook his head. “I can’t leave without–”
“You’re out of time. The only question is whether the sun gets to you first or the armed men running from their barracks at this very moment. We’ll come back for her.”
Yet another wave of weakness hit Devlin and he knew the sun must be kissing the sky, even now. “I won’t leave her.” His words were slurred.
“We’ll come back.”
Devlin’s eyes fell closed and his body started to sink toward the floor. He felt Willem Stone gather him up, fling him over his shoulder. And then he felt nothing.
“Where is he? Where is he, dammit?”
Emma stirred from the deepest sleep she could remember at the angry, shouting voice. She was still blinking the haze from her eyes as Commander Hobbs spoke to his radio, and her cell door clanked and rolled slowly open. Then he was beside her, hands on her shoulders, pulling her upright and shaking her. “How the hell did that vamp bastard escape? Answer me!”
She came fully awake when the flat of his hand connected with her face, rocking her head back.
And only then did his words connect. She looked past him at Devlin’s empty cell, at the still slightly open door. He’d ma
de it out. It had been a couple of hours since he’d left, and she hadn’t heard any commotion, but then again, she didn’t have hearing like a vampire. She’d been worried sick, wondering. She’d used the time, though. Her phone, still laced snugly inside her borrowed boot, had still been there, and she’d used it to compose and upload a post about this very compound and her own captivity to the ERFU blog. All anonymous, of course, but if the government saw it, they would know. She was the only human prisoner here, at the moment.
“Don’t try to pretend you don’t know what happened.”
She blinked up at him. “I don’t. I think he put some kind of spell on me. Made me sleep through it. They can do that, right?”
His saggy face and hateful grimace stood in stark contrast to the man’s eyes, which were dark brown and thickly lashed. They looked like kind eyes. Like little boy eyes. But those eyes were a lie.
“On your feet,” he said slowly.
She got to her feet, which were clad only in socks now. She’d removed the too big boots and tucked the cell phone inside the mattress, after tearing it open in a spot they might not notice right away.
She wondered where Devlin had gone, whether he’d made it back to the island yet, whether he would try to come back for her. But no, he would have to find Sheena and Wolf first, wouldn’t he? They were young and vulnerable, and being hunted by DPI. He would have to go after them first. And he should.
She would be fine. She wasn’t a vampire. These guys wouldn’t hurt her.
Hobbs held her upper arm in a grip that said otherwise and would likely leave bruises. He marched her out of her cell and down a hall, through a door with an oddly bent knob, and into a white room. There was a table in the middle. It looked like an operating table. Her blood went cold.
“Lie down,” Hobbs commanded.
She blinked hard, noting the restraints, the overhead light, the cabinets, one of which stood open. Then she pivoted and lunged back into the hall.
Something jabbed her in the back, and then electricity crackled through her body, making every part of her jerk and shake and go completely limp. She fell to the floor, twitching and praying for the pain to stop.
“You will learn that it’s best,” said Hobbs, bending over her, his chapped lips moving so close to her ear that they touched it. “To do as I say.”
Then he pulled the Taser’s prongs out of her back and straightened, scooping her up off the floor. He carried her back into the room and dropped her onto the table, and then he buckled the leather restraints around her wrists and her ankles.
“You’re going to tell me where that vampire went. Or I’m going to hurt you in ways you can’t even imagine. Are you ready now?”
Bit by bit the effects of the Taser were ebbing, but the fear, the paralyzing fear of torture was taking hold. She was brave. She was an adventurer. She’d had a lot of injuries, a lot of pain. But the notion of someone deliberately inflicting it on her while she was strapped down and helpless to protect herself was frightening, even for her. She would not tell this man about the island. She would die first. Knowing that made her situation even more terrifying.
Hobbs went to the shiny stainless steel tray that stood near the open cabinets. Then he began taking items out and placing them there, lining them up with great care. Sharp edged blades, a plier-like tool, a large drill, several gadgets with hooks on their ends. “Where to begin, where to begin,” he said softly, rattling around in the cabinet for more items. “Ah. This might do the trick. You know sometimes, the simple things are the most effective.” He emptied out a plastic bag full of syringes, then pushed the instrument tray right up beside the table on which she lay. He had the bag in his hand. He had nudged the tray lower so he could get closer to her head and then, smiling evilly, he slid the plastic bag over her head while she thrashed and strained against her bonds, twisting her head from side to side. It did no good. He leaned over her, his hip nudging the tray lower as he closed his hands around her neck to hold the plastic tight.
She tried to breathe, but only succeeded in sucking the plastic right into her nose and mouth. He was going to kill her. She was going to suffocate. She strained even harder to get her hands free, and as she did her fingertips hit the edge of the tray. She angled her eyes as low as possible, and she could see it. The tray, within reach of her fingertips if she just angled them right.
Big black spots started blotting out her vision. Dizziness and desperation and panic tried to overwhelm her, but she told herself to be calm. He wasn’t going to kill her. He was trying to torture her into talking. He’d take the bag off any second now. But just in case....
Her fingers tipped the tray a little and inched up it, closing around the first instrument she touched. She worked its handle down into her palm, and clenched her fist around it, her eyes straining to see what prize she had won. A scalpel. Beautiful.
Now if he would only move closer to it so she could plunge it into him.
He didn’t. Her vision was going dark, and her struggles weakening. Don’t drop the blade, don’t drop the blade, she told herself. But it didn’t matter. He would see it soon.
The pressure around her neck eased. The bag was ripped away and she sucked in gulps of air. A female voice in the doorway, muffled by the roar in her head and her own desperate gulping breaths said, “Commander Hobbs, what do you think you’re doing? You are not qualified for enhanced interrogation. That’s my department, as you well know. This is completely– She’s got a scalpel!”
Hobbs turned and reached for her hand all in one movement. She drove the blade toward him, and his hands closed on her wrist, twisting and shoving it away. She strained, and he pushed harder, and then her strength gave out, and the blade sank deep into her own thigh. It was like stabbing a piece of tender meat. She didn’t even feel pain, at first.
But then Hobbs yanked the scalpel out of her, swearing, and the blood spurted with more force than she could believe. The newcomer said, “It hit the femoral artery! Get out of the way.”
Hobbs backed off while the woman, who didn’t wear a uniform, but rather, a long white jacket, like a doctor would wear, pressed both hands to Emma’s thigh so hard Emma thought the bone might crack. And yet her blood continued to ooze out around and beneath the woman’s hands. “Get me the bp cuff!” She all but screamed the words.
Hobbs lunged for the cabinets, slipped in Emma’s blood and fell to his knees, and when he got up again his hands were covered in glistening redness. She really was bleeding out, wasn’t she?
Emma felt light. Easy. Even a little bit giggly. “Good luck torturing a dead woman. Man, when my readers find out what you did–this will be great ammo for the movement, though, won’t it?”
“Dammit, I need that cuff!”
“I don’t even know what I’m looking for!” Hobbs cried.
“Blood Pressure cuff, third cabinet, middle shelf, far left. Hurry!”
Hobbs rattled around, came back to the bedside, slipped and nearly fell again. There must be a lot of her blood on the floor.
“We’re gonna lose her. She’s lost too much,” the woman said.
She was going to die, she thought. She was never going to see Devlin again. She would never know what he felt for her. And she’d never find her mom...unless her mom was dead, after all. She guessed she’d know for sure pretty soon, wouldn’t she? Oh, her poor father! He was going to be devastated. She hoped he wouldn’t blame himself.
White coat told Hobbs to change places with her, and another big gush of blood came out as they moved. Then Hobbs was pressing on her thigh and the woman was lifting it, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around it and pumping it up. It hurt like hell.
“Okay, let up, Commander. See if this holds.”
Emma’s head was swimming. She was fading, she thought. At least Devlin got away. But damn, he would use this as an excuse to go all out violent against these assholes. And she was starting to think maybe he was right. They were going to torture her, an innocent, semi-famous
daredevil writer who hadn’t even done anything all that wrong. They arrested her father. Too bad she wouldn’t be here to get him out. But maybe this would hit the news and people would start asking questions and....
“She needs a transfusion,” Hobbs said softly.
“We don’t have any BD Positive here, Commander. You know that.”
Suddenly, Emma’s mind relaxed completely. Every worry, every bit of sadness and regret, every fear, just sort of crumbled into dust and fell away from her. There was light all around her. Everywhere. She was floating, floating right up into it.
And then she wasn’t.
Emma felt as if she was falling, then she landed with a jarring thud. She opened her eyes. She was in her cell again, and for a moment she wondered if all the rest had been a dream.
But then she looked down at her thigh, and saw thick white bandages there. So it hadn’t been a dream at all.
Gosh, maybe she was dreaming now. Or dead. Could she be dead? Everything was so…different.
She could smell the scent of every person who had been in this place. Wolf and Sheena and Devlin. She smelled Hobbs and that woman who might be a doctor. She smelled her father, and jumped to her feet, half expecting to see him standing right in front of her, the sense of him was so real. And yet, he wasn’t there. Hadn’t been there in hours, maybe days. She knew that just by the scent.
She could feel each molecule of stale air that touched her skin. She could hear the vibrations of footsteps on the ground above and around her. There were murmurings of voices in the distance. And inside her head, noise that grew louder as soon as she paid attention to it. The thoughts and musings of a thousand individuals, maybe a million, all yammering at once.
She frowned and wished for them to go quiet. And they did. How very strange. Why was she suddenly so attuned? Why were her senses so...
Oh, God. It was coming back to her now. She remembered being on the table, the scalpel sinking into her thigh. She remembered that she’d been bleeding out, and that woman had said they didn’t have any blood of her type on hand. And she remembered something else. The last thing Hobbs had said. “We have his blood.”
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