Blood Judgment (Judgment Series)

by Nickie Asher

  Did it matter if it was under his watch or someone else’s? The end result would be the same.

  He flipped through the latest reports. Paralysis was a common end-stage result and, now, some of the test subjects had developed extreme anxiety and fear along with excessive salivation.

  Proof of progress was right down the hall where a young male suffered in the throes of the virus.

  Framer pushed his chair back and stood. Time to make his rounds. He checked on the test subject frequently to judge the effectiveness of the drug and, in all honesty, as a punishment for himself.

  He wished he’d never become involved with this little project. Wished he knew nothing of what was going on. Wished he would stop thinking about what was going to happen once the full force was unleashed on the vampire community.

  Shit. Wishing wasn’t going to assuage his conscience one bit. He left his office and shuffled toward the heavy steel door protecting them from the little demon locked inside.

  He stopped at the cell and moved to the single, reinforced window.

  The slobbering youngster huddled in the corner, frothing and growling like a rabid dog. He’d torn long, bleeding furrows in his arms and neck. His dirty t-shirt was soaked with blood at his stomach. Must have clawed there too.

  His vacant stare was unfocused, and as Framer watched, he threw himself off the floor as though he’d been fired from a cannon. He crashed against the door and dropped in a heap. A moment later, he picked himself up and attacked again with fangs bared and strings of saliva running from his mouth and dripping onto his shirt.

  He was raving mad all right. Nothing but a bullet in his mushed-up brain could stop the insane killing machine he’d turned into over the last few days.

  Framer had observed the restrained youngster receive the injection. He’d felt bad then. He felt worse now.

  The terrified juvenile had begged to go home, pleaded for mercy. But there had been none. He’d been processed and branded even though he would never leave the facility alive. It had been necessary to keep the technicians from knowing too much about the experiments.

  With a sick knot in his stomach, Framer wobbled back to his office. He locked the door against unwelcome subordinates. Right now, he needed to numb-out for a while and give his conscience a rest. He crossed to his desk and plopped into his chair.

  He slipped a small bottle from his desk drawer. Strictly against the rules, but he needed it to cope.

  A scream from down the hallway forced his eyes closed. The juvenile. Suffering from mutated rabies.

  If Hell existed, he was surely going to end up there. He uncapped the bottle, sniffed the contents and, not bothering with a glass, tipped the bottle and spilled a good amount of burning liquid down his throat.

  Chapter Forty-six

  THE FOLLOWING night was warm and clear when Julian climbed out of Ashton’s car. His heart thumped a hard triple-meter beat.

  Going back to the hunt club was more than enough to give him cold sweats. Being there to destroy the operation added an adrenaline rush like he’d never experienced before.

  Which was good. He needed to work, needed the distraction before he took his frustration out on himself. His arms couldn’t take any more damage until his previous work had time to heal.

  And the compulsion to cut was driving him mad.

  Saranna had avoided him for the past four days and the pain of seeing her turn away every time he tried to approach had settled in his stomach like a malignant mass.

  Ashton handed each of them a box of ammunition and popped the car’s trunk. He grabbed a backpack and strapped it on.

  Julian eyed the fourteen-foot chain-link fence. If anything went wrong… They would have to make damn sure nothing did.

  “Come on,” Ashton said.

  They proceeded down the well-lit driveway. Ahead of them, a uniformed man stepped out of the guard-shack, blocking their progress.

  They didn’t slow.

  A twinge of relief shot through Julian that it wasn’t the old guy who’d been on duty the night he and Xalend had escaped. Killing an elderly guard, who in all probability was only trying to earn enough money to survive, wasn’t on his to-do list.

  “Can you assist us?” Julian called. “Our car is on the fritz and I’m afraid we’re lost on top of it. Where’s the nearest good service station?”

  The man relaxed.

  “That would be McKay’s. It’s the best place around.” He scratched his ear then inspected his finger. “Though I’m afraid you’ll have to call them in the morning. McKay’s closed at six.”

  “Not a problem. We’ll call friends to come pick us up, but the car has to be towed.”

  “I’ll look up the number for a towing company. Be right back.” He turned to go into his shack and Slade sprang forward. Before the guard turned around, Slade grabbed the man’s head and gave it a sharp twist. Breaking bone cracked like a dry branch snapping underfoot.

  Slade stuffed the body inside the shack and yanked the door shut. “One down. I sure as hell hope no one finds that bastard for a while.”

  “You and me both.” Julian had no idea if the guard had a check in time or when the next shift guard came on duty.

  “Where are the prisoners kept?” Ashton’s eyes burned into Julian.

  “Building behind the house. Come on.” He sprinted across the lawn, leaving the brightly lit area behind for the deep dark of the tree line, with Ashton and Slade right behind him.

  Once inside the concealing safety of the woods, they pushed through underbrush until they hit a worn trail where they were able to walk without branches and brambles ripping at them.

  “Jeezuz,” Slade said. “I can’t see worth a fuck in here. How do those bastards hunt anything?”

  “Night vision goggles,” Ashton said.

  A dog barked near the house.

  Ashton froze. “Why in the hell didn’t you mention the dog?”

  “Wasn’t one,” Julian said. “Or it was confined.”

  “Shit.” Ashton shoved through the brush toward the house. “Come on. Let’s get moving. Hopefully we won’t have to deal with the mutt.”

  The dog bayed again and a shudder ran through Julian. What kind of dog was it? Not a little one, judging by the deep bass of its bark.

  As he maneuvered through the trees, he tried to banish the memory of the three juveniles and the Canary dogs that had torn them apart.

  It wasn’t possible to un-remember seeing something like that. He still smelled the blood. Heard the screams. Heard the dogs. If he lived to be a thousand, he would never forget that night.

  The pole-building came into view. The hairs at the nape of his neck lifted and his stomach tightened. “There it is,” Julian whispered, more to himself than the others.

  “I wonder how many prisoners they have in there,” Slade said.

  “Hopefully, none.” Ashton moved forward, pushing them into motion.

  Julian’s skin prickled. “Don’t count on it. I bet there’s at least one or two in there. Look.” He pointed to a small parking lot behind the house where a half dozen vehicles filled the lot.

  Slade’s expression darkened. “Lotta cars. Hope that isn’t bad news.”

  Ashton kept them moving. “Might be employees.”

  They passed the house and neared the pole-building.

  “They have prisoners in there all right.” Ashton lifted his head. “I smell them. At least three, maybe four.”

  “Terrific,” Slade said.

  “One or twenty, it doesn’t matter. We’re getting them off this property.” Ashton pulled the semi-automatic from under his jacket. After a quick check of the clip, he slammed it home.

  Following their leader’s example, Julian and Slade checked their weapons and readied themselves.

  The area between the house and pole-building was well lit, making them easy targets. They slipped from the woods into the danger zone.

  Two men exited the house through a rear door and Ashton dropp
ed to the ground. “Shit, get down.”

  Julian and Slade hunkered beside him.

  The men walked to the pole-building and went inside.

  Long minutes passed before they reappeared, dragging a limp body between them.

  “Oh, shit!” Julian’s blood iced over in his veins. They’re having a hunt tonight.”

  “Like hell they are.” Ashton’s eyes blazed.

  The men hauled the vampire around the side of the building and out of sight.

  “When he’s able to stand, they’ll give him a head start and the hunt will begin.” Julian knew the procedure from Xalend’s description.

  “We’ll intercept him,” Ashton said. “He won’t be able to outpace us if he’s been starved for a while.”

  Julian stood. “We should go to the back of the building. They’ll probably set him off in that direction.

  “Come on. We want to be in front of him when he takes off.” Ashton moved out and Julian and Slade fell in with him. They worked their way through thick underbrush until they were about three hundred feet behind the pole building.

  Julian forced himself to breath evenly, though he was tense, coiled for attack. The others looked tight and the air around them practically crackled with tension.

  It wasn’t long before something crashed through the underbrush. The captive vampire was on the move through the trees.

  “This way.” Ashton took off with Slade right behind him.

  With adrenalin cranking through him, Julian sprang after them at a dead run. They raced between the trees until another fence brought them to an abrupt halt.

  Shit no. Julian picked up a stick and threw it at the linked wire. The snap of electricity attested to its lethalness. “We should have known there’d be more fences. They couldn’t take a chance on a vampire doubling back toward the house.”

  “We have to go over or under,” Ashton said.

  Unless they sprouted wings, it would have to be under. Without waiting for the others, Julian took off down the fence line. Ashton and Slade followed at a fast clip.

  “He’s going to get a big lead on us if we fuck around too long,” Slade said.

  Brambles and vines clawed at Julian and snatched at his boots as he pushed through. The hilly, unkempt terrain wasn’t making their progress any quicker. They scrambled down a slope and Julian stopped. “Hold up. We can get under there.”

  The fence crossed a wet-weather stream. Little more than a ditch, it had washed out enough that they should be able to wriggle under it.

  Ashton eyed the distance between the ground and the fence. “Yeah. I think we can. If we’re careful.”

  Ashton took off the backpack and shoved it and his weapon under before dropping onto his belly. “If I can get through, you guys can make it.” Carefully worming his big frame under the fence, his back had maybe an inch of clearance. After emerging on the other side unscathed, he got to his feet and brushed the dirt from his clothes before strapping the pack on again.

  Julian dropped and followed, squirming through the opening. Slade followed the moment Julian gained his feet.

  “Let’s hit it,” Ashton said.

  At a run, they backtracked. The breeze blowing through the pine boughs carried the distant sounds of someone crashing through underbrush.

  Ashton changed course. “This way. He’s weaving.”

  More bodies moving through the dense woods painted a grim picture. By the racket they were making, there had to be at least four or five hunters and they weren’t far ahead.

  Ashton skidded to a halt, bringing Julian and Slade up with him. “Okay, do we take out the hunters or stay on our boy’s trail?”

  “I say we get our boy,” Slade said. “If those fuckers catch up, we take them out.”

  “I agree,” Julian said. “If the people in the house hear gunshots, they might complicate the situation.”

  “We could kill them the old-fashioned way.” Ashton flashed his fangs.

  “True,” Slade said. “But they’re armed and might make a lot of noise before we get all of them.”

  “Hell, you boys need to get your bloodlust up.” Ashton lit off again in the direction the male had taken.

  Hot on his ass, Slade and Julian followed over the rough terrain, dodging rocks and protruding roots.

  Ahead of them, Julian glimpsed a flash of movement. “There.”

  The vampire half ran, half staggered up an incline. He turned his shaggy head, looking behind him. One foot landed badly and he slipped, his arms pinwheeling before he toppled backward.

  He tumbled halfway back down the slope, coming to a rest against a tree trunk.

  “Shit,” Ashton said when they reached the bottom. “I hope he didn’t break anything.”

  As if on cue, the vampire peeled himself away from the tree and rolled into a moaning ball. His head jerked up. Panic flashed over his face, but he calmed a little when he saw them. “Help me,” he croaked. “Please. I’ll do anything if you’ll get me out of here.

  Ashton headed up the bank. “We’ll get you out and you don’t have to do a damn thing.” He knelt beside the male. “Is your leg broken?”

  “Must be. Sure as fuck feels like it. I busted it good against that tree. But if those bastards catch up, that’s gonna be the least of my worries.”

  “Slade, can you carry him? I want Julian’s hands free.”

  That Julian was better with weapons had to be a huge thorn in Slade’s ass, but he didn’t appear ruffled. He moved beside the fallen male. “Sure, I can take him.”

  “We need to get you up.” Slade offered his hand. The male latched on and Slade hauled him up until he balanced on one leg. “Okay man, hang tight and be still. I’ll have you out of here in no time.” He hoisted the male up onto his shoulders, grunting under the weight as he adjusted the load.

  “Maybe they won’t realize we’ve doubled back,” Julian said.

  “Don’t count on it,” Ashton snarled.

  The going was slow over the rough terrain. Slade stumbled several times, but managed not to drop the injured male.

  Julian’s hand tightened on the Beretta. “I smell them. I think they’re behind us.” Excitement rushed through him. This was what he wanted. To join in and fight back. To do something to help his people. To prove himself capable. To be something beyond a violinist. It might not be his true love, but it was what he needed to do.

  Slade picked up his pace. “Yeah. I smell them, too.”

  When they reached the washout under the fence, Slade lowered the male to the ground. “That fence is hot. I’m talking roast-your-ass, hot. You’ll have to crawl under on your belly.”

  The male nodded and rolled over. With a muffled curse, he pulled himself under the wire and out of the way on the other side.

  Julian stood back, ready to defend them while Ashton and Slade went under. The wind carried the men’s scent. They were close. Too close.

  As if reading Julian’s mind, Ashton said, “I want you to run decoy. Do not, I repeat, do not, engage them. Draw them away long enough for us to get him to safety. Then work your way back to the pole-building.”

  “Okay.” He pivoted to take off.

  “Julian,” Ashton’s voice cracked like a whip.

  Julian swiveled back around.

  “Don’t do anything else. You got it?”

  “I got it.” Their lack of trust stung.

  He set off at a brisk trot. As the sound of Slade and Ashton’s progress diminished, the noises made by the hunters grew louder.

  A few minutes later, a splash of fluorescent orange moved through the trees. He was right on the bastards. He changed direction and ran, making plenty of noise.

  Behind him, the hunters hooted and crashed through the brush, enjoying themselves. He slowed, letting them get a little closer. Slade and Ashton should have had enough time to get back to the road if they weren’t pissing around about it.

  The hunter’s calls grew louder and Julian’s lip curled off his teeth in a snarl
.

  Why shouldn’t he take them out? By the sounds of their pursuit, there were five or six trailing him. They’d come to the club to kill an innocent victim. Why should he allow them to walk away when he could circle around and kill every damn one of them?

  They were headed toward the fence. If he let them get ahead of him, they would be between him and the voltage. Picking them off would be easy.

  He trotted to his left and hunkered down. No doubt they were city boys and didn’t have a clue about real hunting. He didn’t either, but at least he had a predator’s instincts.

  Sure enough, in minutes, five of the bastards, each wearing night vision goggles, passed by him. He waited until they were a good stretch ahead and eased to his feet.

  “Wait up,” a voice called from behind.

  A straggler.

  Julian snarled and dropped back down, waiting for his first victim to make an appearance.

  The man came into sight, one hand adjusting his pants. That untimely shit was going to cost the son of a bitch. Big time. He passed Julian and hurried after the other men. A crossbow was slung on his back.

  Julian launched to his feet and overtook the hunter before the man even had time to turn around. He leaped and landed on the man’s back, taking him down like a mountain lion on a deer. The kill was quick and clean, snapping the hunter’s neck with a vicious twist.

  Julian took off after the others, catching up a half mile later.

  “Where the hell did that jackass Max go?” one of them asked.

  “Probably back there beatin’ off or somethin’.” The one who’d answered carried a crossbow with a scope. Must be the vampire killing weapon of choice. One bolt through the heart and it would be lights out. Permanently.

  But he suspected that wasn’t how they did business. More likely, they would enjoy taking several shots and letting the poor son of bitch run until he collapsed from blood loss.

  He thought about Nickey. He’d been scared out of his mind, knowing they were going to kill him. Had those men who’d paid to kill a predator in a canned hunt done that to him? A pitiful, starved, sixteen-year-old child? Was that their idea of a good hunt? His gut said yes and strengthened his resolve to eliminate them.