Nightfall

by Joey W. Hill

  Claudio produced an item Quinn recognized all too well. A single tail, like what Selene had used on him. Laurent threaded it through his fingers. "Until they arrive, I think we'll warm you up with this and then employ the cat, which still has your Mistress' dried blood on it. A person who skins with a knife doesn't know the artistry of doing it with a whip. Before I'm done, you'll understand the lovely nuances." His gaze dropped, lingering hungrily on Quinn's cock. "But first, I think you need that lesson about servants and free will."

  He stepped forward. Though Quinn tried everything he could to writhe away, his bonds held him fast. Laurent wrapped his hand around the barbed wire, the flesh beneath. If he'd squeezed, the agony would have been unimaginable, but he did something Quinn considered far worse. His face so close to Quinn's he could have kissed him, Laurent gently stroked, rubbed and manipulated the sensitive area under the glans. Despite the excruciating fire in his ass, whatever it was doing that caused his cock to be hard made it capable of climaxing against the brutal hold of the barbed wire.

  No, no, no.

  "Yes," Laurent said, a sibilant whisper as he bared a fang, stroked it along Quinn's cheek, an obscene caress. They'd bound Quinn's throat to the fence as well, so he had no way to jerk away or bite the bastard, but he couldn't have summoned the mind to do it anyway. In what he was sure was the most terrible moment of his life--after finding Selene broken in her bed--his body bucked and he climaxed under Laurent's hand.

  The vampire stepped to the side, staying clear as Quinn snarled in horrified frustration, his hips bucking and come spewing out onto the ground.

  Something in his mind broke then. Especially when Laurent leaned in and spoke against his ear again. "Do you want to know why Selene runs, human? Because she knows exactly what we are. Perhaps for the short life you have left, it will sink into your feeble mind. You have no choices. You willingly signed away your fate to this." He drew back, met Quinn's gaze. "I don't blame you. She's quite something. But when you step into our world, you step into Hell. You either decide to accept all of what that means, or you're destroyed by it."

  He loosed the single tail so it snaked out to his side as he paced backward. He put the cat in his other hand. "Be thinking about that while I take the skin from your body, one strike at a time. What's good for the Mistress is good for the servant, after all."

  The first blow of the single tail sliced down Quinn's chest. Unlike the night Selene had touched him with it, there was no attempt to mitigate pain with the lick of the popper. This was all about dispensing pain. A scream broke from Quinn's lips on the third stroke and Mike shoved a shop rag from his own truck into his mouth, one that stank of oil. It mixed with the scent of his own blood and sweat, the musk of his semen on the ground. His heightened third mark senses brought all those scents together in his nose, made him need to retch.

  Laurent switched sides after a dozen lashes. The fresh area he chose on Quinn's back doubled the pain. Ten strikes later, he started to alternate, use the cat. The blood was already flowing, and Quinn felt pieces of his flesh being ripped away with every contact. Everything was pain, inside and out. Only one thought held on in the boiling storm of his brain, and hearing its howl was even more agonizing than what was being done to his body.

  I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. God, I'm sorry...

  Did the mantra help? He didn't know. All he knew was he passed the point where he thought he couldn't take any more. Knowing that mattered not at all to Laurent broke his mind even further. He was being destroyed, reduced to nothingness. He could hear the distant scream of his soul, about to be lost to him, but then something changed.

  He was moving away, burrowing into himself. Squatting down in some deep place in his mind where he was aware of pain, but somehow removed from it as well. In some weird way, it was like those nights at Sam's campfire as a teenager, aware of the noise and chaos that awaited him at home, but finding a quiet center as long as he stayed within the touch of the fire's light.

  Was this what they called a psychotic break? He didn't know, but whatever it was, something inside him started to spin. Slow, like a cap coming unscrewed, lifting him out of that deep place, but still away from what was happening to his body, enough distance to handle it. Maybe it was his soul, staring down at himself, splitting away from the horror of what he'd done.

  But what he thought was illusion apparently was affecting Laurent as well, because the vampire came to a stop, staring at Quinn. Moving a couple steps forward, he lifted a hand, as if touching something in the air in front of Quinn. Quinn, in his body but not, blinked at Laurent through sweat, shameful tears. Blood. Laurent had struck his face, maybe a couple times. The guy had good aim, because his eyes were still intact and he was pretty sure if Laurent had intended to blind him, he would have. Would a third mark heal from that?

  He heard chanting. Chanting in his mind. Closing his eyes, he immersed himself in the smell of Sam's fire, the sage he threw into it with some other things. That familiar smell, the rhythmic crackling, a soothing center to an unhappy teenager's heart, replaced the stench of oil, blood.

  Feel the quiet, Quinn. Embrace what's there. Just breathe.

  Sam, I fucked up so bad. I've gone so wrong.

  No, Quinn. You're learning. Life is all about learning. And love. Hold on to that love. And breathe...

  He was breathing. The pain was easing off, everywhere. When he opened his eyes, wishing it was all a nightmare and he'd wake in the cellar with Selene, he didn't get that wish. He saw Selene, yes, but since he was still in this clearing, all he could think was no, no, no. But then he focused on a key fact. Ernesto wasn't with her.

  Butch was.

  A half dozen SUVs had pulled up to the cabin, the waning moon reflecting off their rooftops. Twenty ranch hands had stepped out of them, every one of them armed. Dix had opened the door of one SUV to hand out Selene, Butch emerging from the passenger front seat, taking position at the head of the phalanx.

  Laurent coiled up the whip, handed it to Claudio, though he gave one more searching look at Quinn as if there was something off kilter. Quinn dropped his head back on his shoulders. He felt dizzy, disoriented. Everything hurt, but the pain was this big wave behind a door. He could feel it pushing on him. When it burst open, it would probably just carry him away, but he also still heard that chanting in his head. His throat seemed to be vibrating, and he realized he was humming along with it. But his eyes clung to Selene.

  Her blue eyes had gone right to him as well and stayed there. Her face was pale but unmarked now, though her features were strained. All the trouble he'd caused her...

  Yes, Quinn. I'll punish you for it later. For now, hold on, my love. My dear, stubborn, stupid man. Hold fast.

  She'd called him "my love".

  "Take care of her, Butch." He could barely speak, but vampires had supersonic hearing, right? Butch's gaze flicked toward him, a possible acknowledgement, but otherwise the vampire looked cold as stone as he and Laurent squared off.

  "Butch Dorn." Laurent spoke, his gaze sweeping the Texas overlord. "I only met you at a Gathering once, but you had a somewhat unforgettable presence." His tone made it clear it wasn't a compliment. For his part, Butch gave him a look equally full of contempt.

  "That makes one of us. We keep trying to close the borders to riffraff like you, but unfortunately they won't do that unless Texas secedes. A move I completely support."

  Laurent ignored that, his gaze moving past him to the small army. "Texans and their guns. They can't harm me."

  "I bet your boy feels differently." Butch nodded toward Mike. "From the info Selene gave me, a human just about smoked him using a rifle and the sharp end of a hoe."

  Mike looked like he barely suppressed the instinct to show fang. Apparently lesser vampires didn't disrespect overlords, even if they weren't their own.

  Quinn's attention hadn't wavered from Selene, but as the words sunk in he realized she'd gotten up to speed about what happened from his mind once she woke.
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  During that pause, Ernesto was pulled out of another SUV. His clothes were ripped and mussed, and a few bloodstains suggested he hadn't been taken gently. Those wounds must have already healed, but Quinn was satisfied at the evidence of them.

  Butch's men from the same vehicle looked happy to be rid of him. When they gestured at him with their rifles, he responded with a curled lip and flash of fang, but he moved back through the clearing to rejoin Mike. Laurent gave him a withering look that didn't bode well. Quinn expected Ernesto would be bleeding again today, but he couldn't summon much sympathy for him, all in all.

  Laurent turned his attention back to Butch. "My vampire was taken unawares, a mistake that won't happen twice. Regardless, her human's life is now forfeit to me since he attempted to kill a vampire."

  Butch glanced at Ernesto. "He behaved himself in the car with my men. Which is why you're getting him back alive. So I'd say that's tit for tat for Quinn."

  "This human tried to kill me," Laurent retorted. "Further compensation is required than just one subordinate--and inept--vampire's life."

  Ernesto tried to remain impassive under Laurent's cutting look, but Quinn saw the swallow. Yeah, today was going to suck for him. But maybe before this was over, Laurent's day would suck far more.

  Selene stepped forward. "Fifty percent of what I earn here will go to you, Laurent. For the next twenty-five years."

  Butch gave her a severe look, making it clear she hadn't had leave to offer that, but she nodded to him. "That doesn't cut into the amount we agreed I would give you as part of your territory."

  "Which is irrelevant if you are coming home with me, as you will be," Laurent snapped.

  Butch brought his attention back to Laurent. "My guys and their guns are here to even the playing field. To make it a fair fight. You're all about beating up on a girl when you outnumber her four to one. Or torturing a human, which takes as much effort as kicking a puppy or drowning a newborn."

  Quinn would have taken offense, but even in his disoriented mind, he realized Butch must have a purpose for goading the other vampire. It had worked. Laurent flushed red over his pale features. Butch glanced back at his men, his tone becoming conversational.

  "One of my favorite entertainments is to draw down with another vampire. Old west roleplaying. See whose fastest and all that. You'd say it was just more of my Texan fascination with firearms, but it's a game, which means I only do it with friends. What I want is to mess up that pretty face of yours with my fists. A bullet wouldn't be anywhere near as satisfying."

  Laurent was rallying, his arrogant expression back in place. "I see no point to a fight between us. The nature of our disagreement is more contractual."

  "Here's the deal." Butch pressed on as if he hadn't spoken. "You and I do a hand-to-hand bout. If I win, Quinn goes free and clear back to his Mistress. The Region Masters' decision is their decision. That will stand either way."

  Laurent's brow creased. "While I'm enjoying the diversion of Selene's servant, I'm not about to get into a barroom brawl over owning him. An unwashed cowboy isn't that appealing to me. I see no benefit."

  "I'll draw you a picture then. It's pretty much carte blanche what we want to do to our servants." Butch's gaze swept Quinn indifferently, though he thought he might have detected a minor flinch from the vampire overlord when he noted the state of his cock and testicles, wrapped in the barbed wire. "But Region Masters and the Council feel a little differently when it's happening to the vampires in your own territory. I had my servant do a little checking. There are lines, and you like crossing them. Cross them enough, they become straws on a camel's back. Dix has talked to enough of those straws in the past several hours to make me think that if I registered a few complaints on their behalf, the Council might wonder if you should be an overlord after all."

  "The Council won't hear the whining complaints of a backwoods territory overlord. I hold far more weight than you do."

  Butch's dark eyes glinted with malice. "It's not where you live, Laurent, but the friends you have. And I have a particular friend. Lady Lyssa."

  That gave Laurent pause. Quinn was having trouble focusing on the dialogue, because the pain was rising again, a throb oozing back into the cracks of that wall around his mind. But he realized a new tension had gripped the New York overlord. He was distantly glad for that, but to manage the agony in his body, he looked toward his Mistress, stared at her beloved face. Quinn felt Selene's awareness of him, though like most everyone else, her eyes remained on Laurent and Butch.

  "You've heard of her, right?" Butch lifted a brow, his tone deceptively mild. "Not only the last surviving member of our royal clans, she was the former Southern Region Master until she changed jobs. What's she doing now, Dix? I forget." He glanced at Dix, standing just behind him to his right.

  "Currently head of the Vampire Council, my lord," Dix said formally. Butch gave him a wry look, maybe because of Dix's use of his title, but he lifted a shoulder.

  "She likes me. At least enough to spend some time on the phone listening to what I have to say. I think you're familiar enough with her reputation to know she's not a big fan of pointless brutality, especially toward the vampires you're supposed to be governing."

  Laurent's expression flickered at that, and though he quickly masked it, Butch let out a chuckle. "You just might get busted back down to peon level. That'd be a real shame. You'd have to work for a living instead of enjoying those juicy tithes you extort out of your vampires. So, what do you say to my 'deal' now?"

  When Laurent said nothing, Butch added, "If I lose, your secrets are safe with me and you can continue to play your sick little games with Quinn. Though I'm telling you, this kind of shit makes the rest of us think you're compensating for some little boy vampire sense of inadequacy."

  Selene made a noise of protest, but Butch shot her a sharp look. She subsided, though the effort obviously cost her. Quinn was on Butch's side. As long as he took care of Selene, his fate didn't matter to him.

  With a snarl, Laurent turned away, stripping off his coat. Making a satisfied nod, Butch started unbuttoning his shirt. When he shrugged out of it, he revealed a body as powerful-looking as the fit of the clothes had suggested, roped with hard muscle, but Quinn now knew firsthand that strength for vampires was linked to age. Laurent had a hundred years on Butch. Maybe that was why Laurent didn't look the least worried about the challenge. He appeared mostly annoyed, probably because they'd interrupted his plan and he might have to get his clothes dirty.

  As Claudio took the coat Laurent shed, the vampire addressed Butch again. He'd dropped the scorn and arrogance, leaving pure malice in his tone. "When I win, I will kill him here and now, in front of her. In front of you, Dorn. Since a human life bothers you."

  Butch shrugged. "The human life doesn't matter to me. What matters is getting the chance to beat the shit out of you. Quinn's a happy means to that end."

  As the two vampires prepared and exchanged barbs, Quinn's attention moved to Dorn's men. All of their faces were somber, eyes serious and alert. Dix drew Selene closer to Quinn, but Laurent stabbed a finger in that direction.

  "No. She doesn't touch him until the fight is resolved. In fact..." His gaze lighted with pleasure and he tossed the whip to Mike. "He will continue his punishment until the matter is resolved."

  "No." Selene stepped forward then, her jaw set. "You bastard."

  "Selene." Butch gave her an even look, then shifted his gaze to Quinn. His tone was deceptively mild. "I expect it's going to be a short fight, Quinn."

  Quinn shook his head. "Take your time," he rasped. "They can't hurt me. Not as long as my Mistress is safe."

  Her features became even tighter, but she reached out to him in his mind. Hold on, Quinn.

  It was like a simple handclasp, more precious to him right now than even a full embrace.

  We're going to owe this guy our firstborn if he wins, you know that, right?

  I think he's counting on it.

  The dr
y note laced with the tension helped him lift his gaze, hold on to hers. Even as he sensed Mike drawing closer, drawing back that whip. Her jaw tightened such that he feared the tension would break it, her blue eyes filled with emotions that destroyed him.

  He wouldn't scream. He wouldn't.

  The bubble burst, all that pain flooding through him with the first strike. He wrenched his head back as far as his bonds would allow, his body going rigid, fighting the inevitable. He was vaguely aware of Butch and Laurent circling one another, then the ground vibrated as they charged and slammed into one another like a car crash. A blink later the fence shuddered under the impact of their bodies and he saw it splinter, give way three sections down. The whip fell again and his body contorted against his bonds, red fire washing through him.

  In the haze of pain he realized the combatants were moving so fast the only way to track them was by the trail they left. Earth furrowed as they rolled down the short hill into the retention pond. The flash of the water against the moonlight showed their movements. He had a brief impression of Laurent landing a blow in Butch's rib cage that should have broken bone like matchsticks, but Butch roared and Laurent was airborne, thudding back onto the bank.

  Quinn lost track of them then because agony took over again. The blows were landing one after another, no pause between. Mike was taking his pound of flesh. Maybe a hell of a lot more than that. The pain didn't ebb and flow. It was a crescendo, and Quinn couldn't get above it or around it this time. He'd never experienced such agony in his life. He struggled to get back to that place deep inside, but it was too far to reach. He was being dragged down into another kind of dark place, one way too much like being buried alive to allow him to hold on to his courage.

  No, he had to hold on. For her. Selene was watching. He had to prove he was worthy of her, even if he'd been the dumbass shit who'd screwed all this up.

  The whip struck his shoulder, but this time it didn't slice and pull back. It fell, rolling along his torn back and catching on the split rail by his bound ankle. He heard what had to be a scuffle behind him, a crack and then a thump. He lifted his head enough to try to find Selene, see if he could figure out what had happened, but she wasn't there.