Night's Cold Kiss

by Tracey O'Hara

  “Wake up, it’s time,” Lisbet’s soft lilt blew across Antoinette’s ear.

  She’d slept for hours and felt stronger, though hunger still gnawed on her insides. Hector stood vigil by her opened cell door and Lisbet waited beside him, her eyes shining with excitement.

  Antoinette ran to the talisman. “So, how does this thing work?” she asked, her hand hovering over the mystic symbols carved into the stone.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” A cold voice silenced her hurried whispers.

  She glanced over her shoulder, confirming it wasn’t just her imagination. Dread stilled her heart. Lucian and two of his men all aimed pistols at her.

  Hector pulled Lisbet behind him and seemed just as surprised as she was.

  “Do you really think I’m that stupid?” Lucian said. “I’ve known about Hector and my sister for some time now. I also saw the ribbon on the floor and it was all the proof I needed. But I wanted to see how far this would go, see if my sister could indeed betray me.” Lucian held out his hand to Lisbet. “Come here.”

  She didn’t move and Hector spread himself to cover her.

  “Don’t be afraid, Lisbet. I’m your brother, I wouldn’t hurt you. But I won’t hesitate in putting a bullet right between that big dummy’s eyes.”

  The girl’s uncertain glance flicked to Antoinette before she stepped around her protector. Hector shook his head and grabbed her arm.

  “It’ll be all right.” Lisbet smiled up at him and tenderly stroked his large hand.

  The brave little woman-child walked toward her brother. As she reached him, Lucian backhanded her across the face, sending her sideways into a nearby wall where she fell to the floor, a smear of crimson marking her descent to the floor. Then he turned the pistol on Hector and fired. The back of Hector’s head exploded in a rain of bone, blood, and brains all over the stainless steel surgical table behind him. His body just seemed to crumple onto the floor. Lisbet screamed his name and scrabbled to his fallen form.

  “You bastard,” Christian hissed. “They’d done what you wanted.”

  “Not fast enough,” Lucian murmured.

  Antoinette moved forward and stopped as Lucian pointed his pistol at her. Could she get to him before he fired? Doubtful. The talisman still suppressed her speed and strength. The scent of blood stirred something in her—something hungry. The beast circled, growling and predatory. She closed her eyes to greet it. As it moved closer, she got cold feet and shied away but the beast circled once more.

  Lisbet’s tear-soaked face looked up at her and gave an imperceptible nod.

  “Do it,” Christian whispered from his cell.

  “Come to me,” she whispered. And the beast did. Racing out of the corner of the darkness in her mind, and took her mental image midleap.

  Lisbet moved behind, distracting the attention of the others and kicked over the pedestal. The stone talisman shattered into a dozen pieces skittering along the floor like the broken segments of Antoinette’s life.

  In that second everything came together.

  Antoinette’s eyes flung open, although they no longer felt like hers alone. She dropped into a crouch as the growl built low from deep within her soul. Everything sharpened, everything slowed. The two men with Lucian raised their guns higher. She could smell their fear and the beast within roared with triumph—and so did she.

  Shots fired, but she kept her focus on Lucian, taking him at full run, knocking him on his back and pinning him beneath her.

  His eyes widened and the scent of his terror flooded her enhanced senses…she inhaled it, tasted it, loved it. The beast demanded blood and she needed to slake her thirst.

  Antoinette bent over her prey and sniffed. The blood pumping beneath his skin called to her with primeval song. Her fangs extended their full length and her hands ripped away at his clothing to expose the jugular below. She sank her head and bit, her fangs piercing his soft fragile skin.

  The sharp crimson nectar spurted into her mouth, hot and hard. The taste she’d had from the bottled blood didn’t begin to compare to the power of this rush. She drank it down as it rushed into her mouth and she threw back her head, howling for the sheer joy of it as his blood continued to spurt over the tiled floor.

  She went back for more—sucking deep, taking his essence in an act much more intimate than sex could ever be. She wanted him—this man beneath her—she wanted him all inside her.

  “Antoinette—STOP.”

  Hands pulled at her. Her frustrated scream echoing in her ears as she kicked out at the one who dared disturb her feeding.

  “Antoinette, control it—take control of the beast.” Hands shook her and held her back. She roared with exasperation until something hot and sharp pierced her shoulder from behind, shocking her into letting go.

  “Fight it,” Christian growled into her ear, his breath hot on her skin…his words filled with the smell of her own blood penetrated her insanity.

  Concentrating hard, she fought back the beast, pushing it, beating it, crooning to it until it shrank into the shadows of her psyche. When she opened her eyes, Christian held her and Lucian lay at her feet, his breath coming in short, sharp terrified pants.

  “What have you done to me?” she sobbed, turning her face away to swipe the sticky wet mess coating her chin. Her hands came away covered in blood.

  Christian turned her to him and pulled her head against his shoulder, wrapping her in his arms and holding her close. “It gets easier, I promise.”

  She relaxed against him for a moment then pushed him away. She couldn’t do this. Not now. Everything intensified. The room seemed brighter, the noises louder, even her skin seemed to glow.

  Oberon stood over one of the men who’d come with Lucian. Antoinette didn’t recognize him, but she did know the other one who lay in a crumpled heap a few feet from Christian’s cell, his throat torn open and blood pooled around him on the floor. The scar on his pale face marked him as Lucian’s crack shot, and Viktor’s killer. Christian glanced down at the body too, his face cold and unreadable.

  “How did you get out?” she asked him.

  “Lisbet,” he said, his hooded eyes rose to meet her. No more needed to be said about the dead man.

  The little girl moaned with Hector’s head in her lap, his blood staining her pretty pink dress.

  Antoinette bent down to check her head wound. It had closed over, only a smear of blood remained. Thank God.

  Lucian sat on the floor, tearing off a piece of shirt and holding it against his throat. Oberon yanked him to his feet and ripped Lucian’s hands away. Antoinette peeked around Oberon for a look at the damage. The bite marks had begun to heal, thanks to Lucian’s use of Lisbet’s blood.

  Antoinette ran the back of her finger across the little girl’s brow and Lisbet’s eyes fluttered open, tears streaking silvery lines down her cheeks.

  “He took care of me and was my only friend,” she sobbed.

  “Lucian Moretti,” Oberon growled. “I am placing you under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder, the experimentation on parahumans, kidnapping, obstruction of an investigation, and as many other charges as I can come up with. You’ll be charged and will have to appear before the Department’s judicial high court. The Guild will be informed of your illegal activities as soon as possible.”

  Lucian started to laugh. Not the reaction Antoinette was expecting.

  “What’s so funny?” Oberon asked.

  “Do you really think members of the Guild are unaware of my activities here? How do you think I get my specimens? This goes much higher than me.” He put his hand into his jacket pocket and arrogantly raised his smug expression to Oberon.

  It wasn’t until Lucian reached out and snatched Lisbet did Antoinette realized how much he’d been inching closer.

  He held a syringe to Lisbet’s throat. “It’s silver nitrate. I was going to use it on one of you as a demonstration, but this will do nicely.”

  He pressed the needle tip against Lis
bet’s throat, indenting the delicate skin but not piercing it.

  “Lucian, she’s your sister, your flesh and blood. Let her go and we’ll make sure you get a fair hearing,” Christian said as he slowly advanced around the table while Oberon inched closer from the other side.

  Lucian laughed. “There are those who would see me dead in a heartbeat before they risked that kind of exposure—I know too much. And if you separate me from her, I’ll be dead within weeks anyway. I need her blood. So if I’m going to die, I may as well take her with me. Now back off.”

  Lisbet’s tiny hand brushed against an instrument tray, knocking it to the floor with a metallic clatter. Antoinette felt so helpless until she saw Lisbet’s fist wrapped around something. The little girl plunged another syringe into his thigh.

  Lucian’s eyes went wide with surprise and Oberon rushed in, picking him up by the scruff of his shirt while Christian grabbed Lisbet out of harm’s way.

  The bear in Oberon shifted in his features, curling his lips back into a snarl, but then he let Lucian go. “You’re not worth my career.”

  Lucian stumbled, the empty syringe sticking out of his thigh. His eyes narrowed on Oberon’s broad back as he lifted the syringe in his hand.

  “Behind you,” Christian warned.

  Oberon growled, a backhand sending Lucian flying into a cabinet, shaking the many bottles and glass containers on the shelves. Lucian crumpled to the floor, knocked unconscious by a large jar as the others smashed to the floor around him.

  He lay unmoving as one last bottle teetered on the shelf above and fell with almost graceful slowness. When it hit the other chemicals, they ignited, sending flames and glass fragments flying through the air.

  Lisbet stood watching the flames lick around her brother’s body. Even after everything he’d done to her, he was still her brother and it was something she shouldn’t see. Antoinette pulled her away. Lisbet’s arms wrapped around her waist as she buried her face against Antoinette’s stomach.

  Flames licked the walls, climbing to the ceiling, running along the floor—spreading so quickly it covered his body in seconds. They all stood watching, shocked into inaction.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Christian said. “Grab that one.” He pointed to the remaining guard.

  Oberon pulled him to his feet by his collar. Another small explosion rocked the far corner of the room and everyone flinched instinctively. A third explosion blasted across the room.

  “We have to get out of here—now!” Oberon yelled.

  33

  Fire and Ice

  Antoinette guided Lisbet toward the exit, but the little girl stopped at the door to look back at Hector’s body. Oberon pushed them through and Christian was hot on his heels, dragging the guard with him.

  Christian closed the heavy metal door behind them and they were plunged into immediate silence. The room was soundproofed. Lisbet keyed a code into the electronic lock so they could continue through the second door and into a junction of passageways leading off in three directions. Ahead were barred cells on both sides and at the end of the passage was an elevator. Even more corridors branched left and right.

  “There must be dozens of rooms down here,” Antoinette whispered.

  Oberon looked around and nodded to the passage in front of them. “I count twelve cells that way, six a side. With three more corridors in either direction that makes seven blocks of twelve, so around eighty-four rooms. Will we have enough time to evacuate everyone?”

  “Let’s hope so, we must hurry,” Lisbet said.

  “How much time do we have?” Christian asked.

  “It depends on how long the fire stays contained. Hector managed to disable the alarms, but when the fire reaches this section the guardhouse will be alerted. If they can’t confirm with Lucian a false alarm, they are under orders to shut down the complex and fill the air with a multitoxic gas, killing all that remain.”

  “Then we have to stop that from happening.” Christian took one of the dart pistols he’d stripped from Lucian’s men and held it out to Oberon. “Do you think you can take care of the guards above ground?”

  “With pleasure,” he said.

  Lisbet grabbed on to Antoinette’s hand, gripping her fingers tightly. Oberon frightened her. Antoinette squeezed and smiled what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

  “What about this one?” Oberon asked, scowling at the guard sitting against the wall.

  “If we had some rope we could tie him up,” Antoinette said.

  Christian shucked off his cotton shirt and threw it in her direction, leaving him wearing a tight T-shirt. “Here, use this.”

  “Fine, I’ll leave him to you.” Oberon loped off down the hall toward the elevator.

  The cloth was full of his scent. She repressed the urge to bury her nose in it and tore the material into strips. She didn’t have time to dwell on her confused emotions at this point. There were far more important things like…

  “I need to find my father,” Antoinette said as she squatted beside the guard, securing his hands.

  Lisbet placed her hand on Antoinette’s shoulder. “He’s in a cell two rows over and last on the left.”

  “Go,” Christian said. “Lisbet and I will start releasing the other prisoners.”

  Antoinette nodded and set off down the corridor. None of the doors in his row had electronic locks—only a thick metal rail lying across the frame, barring them. Antoinette set about opening the other occupied cells until she reached the one Lisbet said was supposed to be occupied by her father. Instead she found an old man hunched on the edge of his bunk. There must be some mistake. This seemed to be the right cell, but where was the dark-haired giant with the quick smile she remembered? Could this shrunken old man really be her father?

  Antoinette looked again and lifted the metal bar. Confusion erupted among the other captives as Lisbet came around the corner, directing them to the elevator.

  The old man inside the cell didn’t move, just sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. Antoinette dropped to her knees in front of him, took hold of his thin, frail wrists and gently pulled them away from his face.

  His cloudy dark eyes focused, his brow creasing. “Marianna?” he croaked in a harsh whisper.

  She let out a sob. “No, Papa. It’s me.” Tears pricked her eyes. He looked ancient, older even than Sergei. “Oh, Papa. What did he do to you?”

  His eyes focused a little more. “Antoinette—my little girl?” He reached out a shaky hand but withdrew it. “No—this is just another cruel dream come to taunt me.” Tears slipped from his eyes, tracing a silvery path through the crags of his sallow, half-starved face.

  A sob broke from her lips as she brought his palm to her lips, her cheeks wet with her own tears. “It’s not a dream. I’m here, Papa—I’ve come to take you home.”

  He reached out his thin arms and hugged her with all the desperation of a man in shock—his body shuddering with great wracking sobs that tore at her heart. To see her father reduced to this gaunt caricature of the tall, proud man he’d been when she was a child was almost more than she could bear.

  For a few minutes they clung together, but time was short. She fought down the rage threatening to consume her, wanting to tear someone apart, make them pay for what they’d done to him. If Lucian wasn’t already dead, she would’ve ripped him to shreds a thousand times over. But she needed to get her father out of danger and she’d worry about everything else later.

  She broke his embrace and wiped the hot tears from her face. “We have to go, Papa.”

  A loud booming noise rocked the complex and set off the shrill wail of alarms, plunging the corridors into a red flashing glow.

  Antoinette helped her father to stand, shocked by how the clothes hung like rags from his emaciated frame. Lucian must’ve been starving him and she bit back her own distress as he shuffled on legs almost too weak to hold him up. She swallowed down the pity and moved to help him. This ancient man was not the god of he
r childhood.

  His thin legs buckled and she wrapped her arm around her father’s skeletal waist before he collapsed onto the ground, then she bent to sweep him up. Shocked, he tried to fight, his expression proud and indignant. Now, there was the Papa she remembered.

  “Please. We don’t have time,” she cried above the wailing sirens.

  He held her gaze for a moment longer, then his face collapsed as he surrendered. He weighed so little that even without her Aeternus strength she could’ve easily lifted him. His embarrassment disappeared into narrowing eyes and he carefully regarded her face.

  Antoinette turned the corner to find the elevator where Oberon stood with a rag-tag bunch of parahumans.

  “You’ve secured the area?” she yelled above the noise of the sirens and chaos.

  He nodded as he herded the prisoners into the lift.

  “Where’s Christian?”

  “I think he’s down there checking out another lab he stumbled across. It’s near a freight elevator and there are more people getting out that way.”

  The sound of the fire grew closer, punctuated by another small explosion.

  Christian.

  Antoinette turned to Oberon. “I’m going to help him. Look after my father.” She started off down the hall at a run.

  “Antoinette,” the old man cried out.

  “I’ll be with you soon, Papa, I promise,” she called over her shoulder as she ran.

  The smoky air stung her eyes and she almost missed the lab, but skidded to a halt just before the door. Christian was inside, loading small vials into a metal canister. It was identical to the other lab where Lucian had held them, with one major difference. Instead of the caged cells, the walls here were lined with floor-to-ceiling refrigeration units, containing thousands of multicolored vials.

  The body of a white-coated lab assistant—if you could call what was left the body—lay in several pieces strung across the floor. Fangs nudged her gums at the scent of old spilled blood, but it had a stale corrupted tang to it so she was easily able to control the desire to feed.