Pamela Palmer - [Vamp City 02]

by A Kiss of Blood

  Her stomach cramped as she wondered who they’d left behind—wives, children, parents? And with sorrow at what she feared they’d suffer in this place.

  “So there weren’t always slaves here?” Quinn asked, skeptical. “Or torturing and killing just for the sport of it?”

  “There have always been human servants—humans who willingly, or not so willingly, serve their vampire masters. But the influx of humans solely for sport and food didn’t start in earnest until a few decades ago. Even that didn’t become widespread until a couple of years ago, when the magic began to fail. The depravity since has spiraled out of control, Quinn.” Micah glanced at Arturo. “And even those with honor in their hearts have turned a blind eye.”

  Arturo’s jaw tightened, but, again, he said nothing.

  Quinn watched the passing landscape, the well-lit houses in the inhabited areas, streets that in modern D.C. were now lined with high-rise office buildings.

  “Cara,” Arturo said, drawing her gaze to his in the rearview mirror. “If we are stopped and anyone asks, you and Zack are Micah’s slaves. He is leaving you at my house while he helps me search for the missing sorceress.”

  “All right.” There was much to be said for getting their stories straight.

  They turned onto Fourteenth Street, and she knew they were close to Arturo’s house. She’d been there before and knew it to be on F Street, only about a block from the Treasury. In 1870, F Street had been primarily residential, unlike its twenty-first-century twin.

  Several minutes later, Arturo pulled into the alley that ran behind his house and parked the Jeep. Too fast, he was out of the vehicle and slinging a still-sleeping Zack over his shoulder as if her brother wasn’t close to Arturo’s size, as if he weighed nothing.

  Micah emerged from the vehicle at normal speed and opened her door for her. As she climbed out, she heard a man’s scream on the wind some distance away. The sound clawed through her, raking open every memory of the terrors she’d known in this place, setting them free like nightmares flying through her mind. No one should ever be made to scream like that.

  “Quinn?”

  Mike’s voice penetrated the darkness, jarringly wrong in this place. But it focused her, grounded her. Screams were a common sound in Vamp City.

  God, she hated this place.

  With a shiver, she moved quickly toward the house, preceding Micah through the back door and into a kitchen that was, if not modern, at least a far cry from its 1870s roots. This was the one room within Arturo’s home that was fully electrical, with 1970s appliances and modern, recessed lighting.

  The kitchen was empty, the faint smell of freshly baked bread lingering, reminding her she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. The tension in her back and shoulders eased now that they’d reached Arturo’s home. Oddly, she felt safe here. Arturo might have scared her mindless the first time he brought her here, feeding from her fear, believing he could take her memory of it later. But he’d never attacked her. She’d never been physically harmed in this house. And she never would be as long as Cristoff and his goons didn’t find her here. For all of Arturo’s faults, she believed that. He wouldn’t hurt her. Not physically.

  As they started down the hallway, Ernesta, one of Arturo’s servants, bustled out of the living room, motioning with her hand for them to follow. Quinn knew that the matronly, Latino-looking woman wasn’t human, though exactly what she was, Quinn had yet to learn.

  Quinn entered the living room to find Arturo setting a disgruntled Zack on the sofa.

  “I could have walked,” Zack grumbled.

  “You were sound asleep,” Quinn countered. It might be wishful thinking, but she thought he looked a little better, his skin tone less gray, the circles under his eyes a little less pronounced, though the “whites” of his eyes had turned fully silver. “How do you feel?”

  Zack ran a hand through his shaggy curls and met her gaze with a spark of life that had been missing for the past ten days. “Hungry.”

  “Have Susie prepare a meal for two,” Arturo told Ernesta, then sent Micah a questioning glance. When the other vampire shook his head, presumably not interested in human food, Arturo added, “And send Horace in.”

  Micah settled his big vampire body on one of the chairs. As Quinn joined Zack on the sofa, Horace, Arturo’s sole male servant, appeared in the doorway. He was a balding, stocky male with a graying beard that glowed with a Slava’s phosphorescence.

  “Master.” He said the word as a soldier might say “Captain” to a respected and revered commanding officer.

  “What news, Horace?” Arturo asked, crossing one ankle over his knee.

  The older man stroked his bushy beard. “Well now, a new sunbeam broke through right outside the slave auction yesterday, just as it was ending. A wide one, wider than anyone had ever seen. More’n fifteen vamps were caught in it, including that bitch Francesca.”

  Quinn started with surprise, and no small amount of relief. She’d briefly been one of Francesca’s slaves and was delighted that no one else would suffer that monster’s torment.

  “Any word on the sorceress?”

  Quinn frowned, wondering why he was asking Horace about her when she was sitting right there.

  “Nah. Some say she’s a shifter and turned herself into a bug and escaped Cristoff that way. Others say she’s far more powerful than Cristoff knew and transported herself out of his prison. But no one’s seen her.”

  “Thank you, Horace. I need you to send word to Mukdalla. Tell her I have a couple of gifts for her, and I’m in immediate need of transport to pick them up.”

  With a deferential nod, Horace turned and left.

  Eyes narrowed, Quinn turned to Arturo. “What was that all about? He doesn’t know who I am?”

  “You’re glamoured, cara.”

  She grimaced. “Right.” She’d forgotten about that.

  “But it wouldn’t matter either way. He doesn’t remember having met you. None of my servants do. Nor do they remember seeing Zack.”

  “You took their memories?”

  “I did. And I’ll take them again when we leave. For their protection as well as yours.”

  Quinn leaned forward, her arms on her knees. “What’s the plan, Vampire? Don’t leave me in the dark. I assume Zack and I are the gifts in need of transport?”

  “You are.” He leaned forward, mirroring her, until their faces were but a couple of feet apart. As he watched her, his eyes softened, deepening, his gaze probing as if he meant to coax her to lower her defenses. Instead, she leaned back, putting distance between them.

  His brows flickered down in disappointment, his expression clearing, turning military cool once more. “Later tonight, we’ll transfer you to a place of safety.”

  She frowned. “You’re not going.”

  “You go nowhere without me. Micah and I will follow at a distance, keeping watch over you. We will rendezvous with you there.”

  “Wherever ‘there’ is.”

  With a gleam in his eyes, he gave a nod, then glanced at Micah. “Show Zack to the dining room, amico mio. I should like a moment alone with Quinn.”

  She wasn’t sure she wanted a moment alone with him. But she said nothing as Micah gave his friend an assessing look, then rose. “Let’s find you some food, Zack.”

  Zack jumped up more quickly than he’d moved for days, easing the clamp around her heart. When they were alone, she turned back to the vampire, curious and wary.

  Arturo watched her, searching her face . . . No, not her face. “I have missed you, tesoro,” he said quietly, his dark eyes gleaming, his voice rich with seduction.

  She snorted. “You’re really going to do this, now? Try to get me back into your bed?”

  With a quick grin and a shake of his head, he leaned back in his chair, eyeing her wryly. “Why do you think I am not sincere?”

  “Not sincere that you’ve missed me or that you want me back in your bed?”

  “You were the one that brought u
p the bed, cara, not I.” His expression, faintly mocking, turned serious. “I have missed you.”

  She cocked her head. “How did you happen to be at Mike’s . . . Micah’s . . . this afternoon? Have you been spying on me, too?”

  “I prefer to call it watching over you. Protecting you. I have spent as much time with Micah as I could though not as much as I would have liked. I caught a glimpse of you only rarely though your emotions were my constant companion. Your worry nearly drove me to distraction. I thought your fear was that vampires would find you. But your fear was for Zack, not for yourself. I did not realize Zack was sick.” He leaned forward again, eyeing her intently. “I do not like it when you suffer.”

  She just stared at him, feeling like he’d kicked her in the chest. “You have a funny way of showing it.” Twice he’d turned her over to his sadistic master.

  The vampire looked down at his hands, his breath leaving his body on a sigh. Slowly, he lifted his head, meeting her gaze with eyes so dark, so deep, she knew if she wasn’t careful, she could fall into them and never find her way out again.

  “I am sorry, cara mia, for what you suffered at Cristoff’s hands. I knew he would be angry, but I did not think he would . . .” His hands curled into fists, his jaw turning rigid. “I could not stop him, Quinn. A vampire never questions his master’s words or actions unless he intends to challenge him for his position.”

  “Which means?”

  “To have objected to Cristoff’s punishment of you would have been tantamount to calling him out, to declaring my intention of killing him and taking his place. Which, of course, would have meant he’d have immediately ordered my death in return. Kassius would have sided with me, as would Bram, who was in the stronghold at the time, and perhaps others. In all likelihood, we’d all have died. And then you’d have had no one to look out for you.”

  Sincerity rang in his tone, regret throbbed in his eyes, and instinct told her he spoke the truth. She’d seen enough of Cristoff to believe that he’d allow no questioning of his actions. Still, she wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily. She said nothing.

  “He was not always this way, Quinn. He was honorable once. Despite being a pain-feeder, he was never cruel except to his enemies.” He looked down at his clasped hands. “Micah is right. Many of us have changed, particularly since the magic began to fail. Cristoff most of all.”

  He looked up, dark eyes pulling at her once more. “I have hope, Quinn, that when the magic is renewed, he will once more become the man—the vampire—he once was. Ruthless to his enemies, yes. And as I fear he will always see you as such, you can never go near him. But not sadistic, as he has become. Do you know he used to refuse to cause pain? We used to walk the battlefields, just walk them, gorging on the fear and the agony the humans inflicted upon one another. He has lost his soul, cara. I have hope he may, with the magic’s renewal, find it and become that male again.”

  “Do you really believe that’s possible?” Cristoff was as soulless, as evil, as any creature could possibly be.

  “I must.”

  For the first time, she realized how honestly devoted Arturo must have been to Cristoff at one time. And how hard it must be to watch a man you’ve admired, and perhaps even loved, turn into a monster. If, that is, you hadn’t done the same.

  She’d never known Arturo to be a monster, but just how fully functioning his conscience was now, or had been in the past, she had reason to question. She’d be a fool to trust him any more than she had to.

  “I hope you’re right. For all of our sakes.” A benevolent Cristoff might be far easier to escape. She rose.

  Arturo followed. “I will never let him hurt you again, cara mia.” His fingers curled around her upper arm, and he stepped closer. “No one will hurt you again. I vow it.”

  “You can’t make that promise. And I don’t need you to. I can take care of myself.”

  He dipped his head, his nose brushing her hair. “Nevertheless.” His head dipped farther, his lips tasting the side of her neck, sending shivers dancing through her blood. Her mind urged her to put distance between them, but her body remembered all too well the delight she’d known at his hands and resisted. His scent of almonds and moonlight invaded her senses and her body came alive at his touch. Her pulse raced. It would be all too easy to give in, to let him lead her upstairs and drown her worries in passion and pleasure.

  Instead, she pulled away.

  “Don’t, Vampire. We’re not going to be lovers again. We’re not going to be anything.”

  “Now it is you who lie, tesoro. If only to yourself.” He watched her with disappointment. “You respond to my touch as few ever have. And I to yours. Your merest kiss turns my skin warm. You cannot deny this.”

  “It doesn’t matter. If you want me to save your world, then that’s how it’s going to be.”

  His mouth tightened, but the only emotion she saw in his eyes was regret. “So be it. Join your brother and eat, cara. I have things to discuss with Micah.”

  As she led the way to the dining room, she was all too aware of him at her back, too physically aware of him on every level. There was something about him that drew her like a moth to flame. It would be all too easy to give in to the pleasure she knew he could give her, indescribable pleasure that had haunted her dreams since the last time she was in his arms.

  But the closer she let him get, the more likely she was to trust him again. And that was something she refused to do.

  Chapter Five

  Quinn found Zack at the dining-room table devouring homemade rolls as fast as he could butter them up and shove them into his mouth. The room was lovely in an old-fashioned fussy kind of way, the walls papered dark red, a gold-and-crystal chandelier hanging above an antique, ornately carved table. Gilt-framed paintings lined the walls, some exact duplicates of originals that would go for millions at auction in the real world . . . if the originals didn’t already hang in museums.

  “Your brother looks better,” Arturo commented behind her.

  Quinn nodded. “It’s amazing. He really did need to come back here.”

  “I have told you the truth, have I not?” Arturo’s cool fingers stroked the side of her neck.

  She stepped away from him. “Lucky guess.”

  “Educated guess.”

  “Regardless, thank God it worked.”

  As Quinn reached for the chair at a right angle to her brother’s, Arturo pulled it out for her. She met his even gaze. Whatever else he was, she’d always known him to be a gentleman and a charmer.

  With a nod, she took the seat he offered as Micah strode in from the kitchen, a bottle of Corona in his hand. “You need limes, Ax.”

  “I’ll have Ernesta run up to the Safeway,” he replied dryly. “A word?”

  As the two vampires left the dining room, Quinn reached for one of the rolls from the heaping basket. “You’re hungry.”

  Zack nodded, waiting to reply until his mouth wasn’t entirely full. “Starved.” His gaze met hers. “I really felt like I was dying, Quinn.”

  “And you don’t now?”

  “No. Dying from lack of food, maybe.”

  Ernesta bustled into the room with two plates piled high with large slabs of piping-hot lasagna, returning moments later with heaping bowls of salad. It was far more food than Quinn needed. Fortunately, if Zack didn’t slow down, he’d wind up finishing off his portion and hers, too. For a moment, she just watched him, feeling her eyes burn with relief. She’d told herself all along that he’d be fine, that the magic would be renewed in time to save him. But she’d been lying. She’d been gut-ripping terrified that her beloved brother was going to die. And while Vamp City was probably the most dangerous place in existence for a human, there was no denying it was where he needed to be right now.

  As Quinn dug her fingers into a warm, soft roll and spread a dollop of what appeared to be freshly churned butter on one side, she eyed her brother thoughtfully.

  “What is it?” Zack asked,
catching her gaze.

  She hesitated to bring up the questions that had been weighing on her since his revelation earlier, but decided if he could eat like a four-hundred-pound weight lifter, he could answer some questions, even tough ones.

  “Tell me about Lily, Zack. Was she . . . okay?” In many ways, she didn’t want to know the answer to that. It was hard enough watching the torture of strangers, but hearing about the suffering of a young woman she’d already begun to think of as her future sister-in-law was going to hurt.

  But Zack just gave her his customary shrug. “She looked tired.”

  Tired. “That’s all?”

  “And sad.”

  Okay. “But not bruised? Or hurt?”

  His brows lowered, then lifted as understanding widened his eyes. “God, no.”

  Quinn released the breath she hadn’t even known she was holding. “Good. That’s good.”

  She took a bite of lasagna, but Zack’s gaze fell to his own plate, his hand turning a soft roll into a hard ball of bread.

  Slowly, he looked up again, staring at nothing. “The first time I saw her, she was standing in the upstairs window with a load of towels or sheets or something. The second time, she was in the kitchen carrying a bucket and a mop.”

  “So they were using her as a housemaid.” Quinn didn’t voice out loud her fear that the girl had been used for far more. For far worse. Many vampires were depraved in the extreme. The way Zack was mangling that roll told her he was thinking the same.

  “Zack, why didn’t you tell me you saw her?”

  For several moments, he didn’t respond, didn’t act as if he’d heard her. “I don’t know.”

  When he failed to expound, she suspected that was the only answer she was going to get. In his defense, he probably didn’t know why. She remembered how down on himself he’d been after they were reunited. How Arturo had told her he blamed himself for not being able to save the women he cared about.

  And what if he had told her he’d seen Lily right after they’d escaped Vamp City? Would she have tried to go back in after the girl? The thought of it weighed on her like a pile of bricks. Selfishly, she was glad she hadn’t been forced to make that decision.