Blood Judgment (Judgment Series)

by Nickie Asher

  Two officers grabbed him and lifted him from the sidewalk. His head lolled on his neck and he had a sickening, upside-down view of the street behind him. His stomach lurched and he vomited. He choked on the foul matter.

  “Put ‘im down before he chokes to death,” Anderson said.

  “What do you care?” the man holding Christopher’s wrists said.

  “Do you want to deprive Banks of his fun?”

  They lowered him to the sidewalk and rolled him onto his side where he retched miserably. “Fuckers,” he said when he was able to speak.

  “Shut the hell up, you piece of shit.” Anderson kicked him in the side.

  Christopher refused to acknowledge the pain.

  The men picked him up again and carried him to the van.

  Chapter Fifty

  SARANNA SAT up and waited to see if she would have to throw up. She caressed her belly and imagined the tiny being inside her. Hopefully, he would look like Julian. Pain jabbed her chest.

  Julian cared about her and took good care of her. But he was never going to love her. How was she to continue feeding from him when it tore her heart out? How could she stay there and see him every night?

  Maybe she should go back to Mick to feed. He would take care of her, even with someone else’s baby in her womb. But he would want and expect sex. She’d given him her virginity, she’d gone to him for comfort after Cerin’s betrayal, and she’d given herself to him when he needed comfort. But she had a mate now. She loved Julian and wouldn’t wrong him.

  And she was half afraid Julian would kill Mick.

  She belonged to Julian and she had no right to feed from another or deprive Julian of his child.

  When her stomach settled, she went into the bathroom and showered. Her mid-section was still flat. The baby wouldn’t make his presence known to the world for another two months or so.

  Though she cringed at the idea of letting Jason examine her in such an intimate way, she had to make sure everything was all right. And she might as well get it over with. After all, he would have to deliver the baby when the time came.

  She grabbed her purse and jacket and glided down the staircase. Vali sat on the sofa watching cartoons. She gave him a little wave.

  “Where are you going?”

  “For a walk.” She headed out before he had the chance to ask more questions.

  She walked mostly unnoticed past shops and apartment buildings. A few male vampires looked at her as if they were sizing up their chances. She ducked her head, avoiding eye contact.

  By the time she’d traveled half the distance to Jason’s, she needed to rest. A month along and the baby was already draining her energy. God, what would it be like when she was ready to give birth in another eleven months?

  She spied a bus stop bench and hurried toward it. She needed a few minutes to rest. Sighing with relief, she eased down on the wooden slats.

  She ran her finger over a carving of a heart with the name Anna cut in the center, a young man’s testament of love to his girl. She clenched her hands. This was not the place to fall apart.

  The tread of uneven footsteps drew her attention from the carving. A man weaved toward her. His clothes, a mishmash of frayed, dirty fabrics and colors, identified him as one of the homeless, potentially mentally ill street denizens.

  The scent of wine and sweat assaulted her while he was still feet away. He grinned, displaying stained teeth between vacant gaps where others had gone AWOL. His glazed eyes slithered over her. Icy prickles covered her skin. She hoped he would shuffle on his way and leave her alone.

  He didn’t. He maneuvered straight toward her. “Hey girlie, I got somethin’ for ya.” He groped at his pants.

  She rose from the bench. Disgust clenched her stomach and not wanting trouble, she hurried on.

  She wished she was at Jason’s, so she could get the embarrassing visit over with and be on her way home. Maybe she would call Ashton and ask him to pick her up afterwards.

  She hurried along, ticking off the blocks.

  A feeling of being watched crept over her. The little hairs on her arms lifted. She glanced around.

  The bum from the bus stop was behind her.

  “What—”

  He swung a paper bag at her head with surprising speed. It struck her temple. Pain exploded through her head. He’s struck her with a glass bottle camoed inside the bag. He cackled laughter.

  Her knees buckled and she collapsed to the pavement.

  “Hey, get your nasty ass away from her.”

  She didn’t know who was intervening, but she was thankful someone had diverted the man who’d hit her. Still not coherent, she rubbed her temple. The warm stickiness of blood wet her fingers.

  Boots thundered down the sidewalk.

  She focused on her rescuers and went utterly cold.

  Security Center officers pounded toward her.

  In moments, they surrounded her.

  “Miss? Miss? Are you okay? Call an ambulance, Tom. She’s hurt.”

  “No ambulance.” She did her best to keep her teeth hidden.

  “Sheeit, she ain’t no helpless woman.”

  She moaned and drew herself into a ball. Her head was splitting, but that was the least of her problems.

  “She’s a vampire,” the first speaker said. “Get the van down here.”

  “Please. Let me go.”

  “Don’t think so, honey.” He radioed for the van.

  Terror locked around her and her eyes darted between the men.

  A moment later, a van pulled up to the curb and two more men got out.

  “Please let me go,” she whimpered.

  “We aren’t gonna hurt you. We’re taking you in for standard processing then you can go. Unless you’ve got a little rat in the oven. Then you’ll be given an abortion first.”

  She shrank back.

  “Are you pregnant?” The officer eyed her with suspicion.

  She didn’t say anything.

  “I think she’s knocked-up.”

  Another man snickered.

  “I’m not pregnant.”

  “Then you have nothing to be afraid of.”

  “Please let me go. Please, mister.” She looked at the first one who’d spoken to her, hoping for mercy. “Please. I’m begging you.” Tears leaked down her cheeks.

  “Can’t do that.”

  Two men grasped her wrists and ankles to scoop her up while another opened the van doors.

  She struggled hard and broke her right arm free.

  One of the men pulled out a control device. “Cool it, bitch, unless you want a good jolt.”

  She stilled, thinking of the baby inside her.

  “Please,” she moaned.

  The men carried her to the van and stuffed her into a cage. He snapped the lock closed and shut the back doors. Total darkness enveloped her.

  A strangled cry tore out of her. “Julian,” she screamed, even though he couldn’t hear her. She grasped the jasper at her throat and shrieked his name again.

  JULIAN’S EYES shot open, ripping him from a nightmare of pain and torture, and he knew two things instantly. He’d overslept and something was wrong.

  He launched out of bed and yanked on the clothes he’d had on the night before. A hard knot of fear twisted his stomach. Something was wrong… With Saranna.

  He raced from the bedroom and accosted Vali. “Have you seen Saranna?”

  “Left about an hour ago. Said she was going out. Is something wrong?” Vali sat up on the sofa, alarm plastered on his face.

  Without answering, Julian bolted out the door, not bothering to shut it behind him. Cold drops of rain slashed down, stinging his face, though it barely registered in his panicked mind. He caught the faintest trace of her scent on the wet, chilled air.

  He drew her essence in, following it with animal senses. His feet flew over the concrete, until little by little, he lost the scent. He stood on the sidewalk, heart pounding. He’d lost all trace of her. He paced back and
forth, testing the damp air for her scent.

  One of two things might have happened. Either the traders had her or officers had caught her. Fighting down panic, he shoved his wet hair back from his face and twisted his fingers into the long dripping strands.

  He couldn’t go off half-cocked and fuck up. He wheeled around and raced back to the house. Slamming the door behind him, panting for breath, he demanded, “Where are Ashton and Slade?”

  “Got called into a Resistance meeting. Mandatory shit. What the hell’s wrong?”

  “Saranna, she’s in trouble. I’m going after her.”

  “What—”

  He strode into Ashton’s room and yanked open the double closet doors. He snatched the backpack and opened one of a dozen stacked boxes. He grabbed three large bundles of explosives and put them in the pack.

  Next, he went to a spare dresser and selected two Berettas from the top drawer. He shoved extra clips in his jacket pockets and slung the pack on his back.

  “What are you doing?” Vali asked from behind him.

  “Going after my mate. Tell the others if they get home before we do.”

  “But where is she?”

  “I don’t know yet. Either the traders or the Security Center bastards caught her. I’m going to the warehouse first.” Without waiting for a reply, he hurried past the younger vampire.

  Once outside, he bolted, running full out until his lungs and throat burned with every breath. After an eternity, the warehouse came into view. He skidded to a stop, afraid of what might have happened to her and the baby already.

  Wanting to race blindly ahead, he forced himself to walk up to one of the windows. Inside the building, two cages contained young males. They were doomed and they probably knew it.

  His hands curled into fists.

  He sprang away. She had to be at the Security Center. And if they treated her like they had him, God help her.

  Spurred to run faster, his feet pounded over wet sidewalks and pavement until his heart trip-hammered and nausea churned his stomach. He had to slow and catch his breath.

  Soaked to the bone and shivering though his internal temperature had skyrocketed from exertion, he walked head down, panting.

  Shit, he wished he had brought his cell phone. He didn’t even have any change in his pocket to make a call at a pay phone, assuming he found one. The Security Center was a long way off. He needed a ride in a bad way.

  He walked faster. He would never get there if he had to walk, it was too damn far. Maybe he could flag down a taxi and stiff the guy when he got there. Except there wasn’t a taxi in sight.

  He covered three more blocks at a jog. Exhausted or not, he didn’t have time to screw around. Then he spotted salvation.

  Ahead of him, parked at the curb, was a Security Center transport van. The driver sat behind the wheel with his head buried in a magazine.

  Tonight, the officers would be the victims. He had to kill them, all of them, and he would have to be damn fast about it. Like wolves, they worked in packs, and if he screwed up, they would take him down.

  But which way had they gone? To the right of the van, the street was well lighted. The opposite side was a little darker, not having as many street lamps. Vampires would prefer the dark.

  He turned left. Hurrying though the shadows, he prayed he’d made the right choice. His hunch paid off four alleys beyond the van where three officers stood over a felled male.

  Julian growled.

  The male looked up with panic-stricken eyes.

  One of the officers followed the male’s gaze and froze. He clawed at his pocket, presumably for another dart.

  Julian charged with every bit of strength and speed he possessed. He leapt into the air as the officer shoved the dart into the gun and brought the weapon into firing position.

  Julian landed on him, taking both of them to the cobblestones. Seizing the man’s head in his hands, Julian wrenched hard. The bone snapped with a loud crack.

  He launched off the corpse and grabbed for the closest man who was pawing under his jacket. He caught the man’s arm and twisted. The officer screamed and swung his other arm in a wild loop.

  Without mercy, Julian broke the man’s neck.

  The third officer gave up any ideas he had about being a team player and ran.

  Julian went after him, the predator in him taking complete control. He raced over the cobblestones. His hand snaked out and locked onto the back of the man’s jacket.

  He yanked the officer around and roared into the terror stricken face. Feral with rage, Julian attacked, locking the officer to him and sinking his fangs deep into the man’s throat.

  He’d given Saranna a lot of blood, and he would have to be at his full potential to free her.

  He drank, replenishing himself.

  When the officer no longer moved, Julian dropped him.

  He searched the body for weapons and took a pistol and extra magazines off him. He stripped the other two men of their guns and spare ammunition. He had no use for the dart guns and stun devices.

  He shucked off the backpack and stuffed the weapons inside. Better to be prepared to walk into a firestorm at the Security Center. He had no doubt he would have to shoot his way out.

  He made quick work of hiding the bodies in a waste container and stashing the drugged male in a recessed doorway where he could recover.

  Then he headed back for the van at a jog. He neared his target and slowed to a walk, easing up alongside the vehicle. Crouching low, he reached the door and yanked it open.

  “What the—" The officer didn’t get to finish.

  Julian dove, knocking him across the front of the van, and landing on top of him. The man screamed as his back slammed onto the armrest of the passenger seat and Julian’s weight came down on him.

  Julian grabbed the driver’s head and twisted. Bone snapped and the driver when limp. He manhandled the officer into the back, out of sight.

  The van reeked of fear, rage, and blood. The combination worked on him like an adrenalin rush.

  He started the motor and tore away from the curb, leaving long trails of rubber burned into the pavement in his wake.

  STILL SICK from the tranqs, Christopher pushed himself up against the bars. He didn’t have time to wait for the drugs to wear off and his movements were slow and sluggish.

  He could barely see, but it didn’t matter. He lifted his hands feeling the weight of the chain. He was pretty sure he couldn’t break the links so there was no point in wasting time and effort there. The locking mechanism was unfamiliar and he didn’t think he would be able to pick it open. He wasn’t wasting time trying either. He didn’t have time to spare on a screw-up.

  He took a deep breath. Relaxation was key. Ironically, the drugs in his system made it easier. And luck had been with him; the idiots hadn’t used shackles with spikes. If they had, he would have been fucked.

  When he settled and calmed, he went to work on the cuffs, turning one wrist and rotating it back. He had to get his hand through the shackle. For that he needed sweat for lubrication and to collapse his hand as much as possible.

  He worked without tiring, turning his wrists back and forth until they were raw and sweat burned in the abrasions, but he didn’t stop. Stopping meant death and Christopher wasn’t ready to die.

  When his arms were sweat-coated, he folded one hand in on itself, grabbed the cuff with this other hand, and pulled. His hand slipped into the cuff … and stuck. The pressure squeezed his hand painfully. He jerked hard, not caring if he broke bones. They would mend. His hand slipped a bit further and baring his teeth against the pain, he yanked with everything he had. The cuff tore off and he bit back a roar of triumph.

  He didn’t waste time trying to remove the other cuff. Instead, he took a small tool from his wallet and attacked the lock on the cage. It wasn’t a real pick, but it would work. He’d used it before to break into a woman’s apartment.

  He worked with care. They were still in the city because the v
an drove slowly and kept stopping for traffic lights. But they had to be getting close to hitting the highway. Then his chances of escaping unharmed dropped drastically.

  There would be a couple of traffic lights before they reached the Security Center, but, if they didn’t hit any red lights, things would be a lot more difficult. If he had to fling himself from the van at traffic speed on the highway, he would do it, though he ran the probability of being run over by other vehicles. He would be badly hurt, but, unless he bled out, it wouldn’t kill him.

  His fingers, slick with sweat, slipped on the tool and he almost dropped it. “Fuck!”

  He needed to work faster, but that would make him clumsy when he needed finesse. Gritting his teeth, he tried again. The lock was stubborn, maddeningly so.

  Long minutes ticked by before the sweet click of success. He yanked the lock off and ripped the door open. Home free. A solid steel wall separated the men from the back of the van. Had it not been there, he would have killed them and drank them dry.

  The van’s rear door didn’t have an inside latch. Didn’t matter. Age had its privileges. He was strong enough to rip through the van if necessary, but he didn’t think he would have to go that far to get free.

  He eased down on his ass and waited for the van to hit another red light. Timing was everything now.

  The van picked up speed. Alarm shot through him. He’d miscalculated. They were getting on the highway. Cursing, he lifted both feet and aiming for the latch, kicked with everything he had. The door flew open. The van was now cruising at about fifty miles an hour.

  A car followed close. Christopher leapt to the side. He caught a glimpse of the driver’s horrified expression as she jerked the steering wheel and lost control of the car. He sailed for brief seconds before the fishtailing sedan struck him. The blow sent him flying again. He crash-landed in the weeds at the side of the ramp.

  For long seconds, he lay without moving. Judging by the pain, he was pretty sure he had several broken ribs. His left arm was broken, maybe in more than one place. His left shoulder ached. Both knees were torn open. His hands were scraped raw. And a long, deep gash ran down his right leg and bled profusely.