Thrall (Supernaturals of Las Vegas Book 1)

by Carina Cook

  They didn’t last long, but she felt better afterwards. It would have been awfully nice to be able to wipe her face, but with her hands cuffed behind her back, that wasn’t going to happen. Once again, the napkins came in handy, although she imagined that she looked ridiculous all crouched on the floor and rubbing her face against a package of monogrammed cocktail napkins. At least there wasn’t any security camera that she could see, so no guards were watching her at this very moment and laughing at her antics.

  The lack of cameras made her pause. It meant that either this was a hastily concocted plan, or simply a poor one. If she’d been planning this abduction, she wouldn’t leave her abductee alone even for a minute. Not even to use the bathroom. Escape would be much harder under constant guard. It wouldn’t be easy without one, but it was much more possible.

  And escape she would. She could only imagine how worried her mother must be. Her disappearance must have been discovered by now, especially given Gregor’s orders to keep an eye on her. Dagmar must be worried sick. Although Anneliese knew how unlikely it was, she still half expected her mother to burst through the door at any moment to save her.

  But that would cause problems as well as solving them, because saving one child would mean dooming the other. She couldn’t understand what on earth had gotten into Tait. Maybe he’d been a bit spoiled and willful as a child, but she could have sworn that he’d grown out of it. He’d always seemed to have her back. But now she questioned all of it. Had he really sent her the book of glyphs because he’d needed to hide it, or had he sent it to her on purpose, knowing somehow that she would be able to use it? And why had he taken it in the first place? In retrospect, his entire justification—that he’d taken the book on a dare, but when he’d tried to return it, the Librarian was on high alert to catch him—seemed awfully flimsy. Too coincidental by far.

  She shook her head fiercely. This wasn’t the time to be analyzing her brother’s behavior. While she knew that her mother and Gregor would come for her, it might not be in time. Right now, she had an opportunity to escape, and she’d be an idiot to waste it because she was trying to make sense out of her brother’s insane behavior. There would be plenty of time for psychoanalysis later. Now, she needed to take action.

  First, she’d have to test the cuffs. Tait had obviously been lying when he’d claimed to have gotten out of his. More than likely, they hadn’t been closed in the first place, and his claims of being knocked out were entirely false. But even if that was a lie, her cuffs might have some weakness that she could exploit. She’d pulled at them a bit earlier, but she hadn’t made a concerted effort at it, and she did so now.

  Unfortunately, no matter how hard she strained and pulled, she couldn’t get the cuffs to budge. She nearly dislocated her shoulder trying to twist her arms and grab onto the metal, hoping to pull them open. Eventually, she gave up, puffing slightly from the exertion.

  That was a dead end, but Liss tried not to get too worked up over it. She knew from her training sessions with her mother that staying calm was the biggest and best tool she had in a situation like this. So although she wanted to rush, she took a few moments. Closed her eyes in meditation. Focused on her breaths. Calming images of waves and trees swaying in the wind. Gregor’s kiss, feather light on her lips.

  Her eyes flew open. That line of thought wasn’t helpful at all. It wouldn’t calm her down. Quite the opposite—it would get her blood pumping and her heart racing. At a time like this, that wasn’t helpful. She’d have to think about Gregor’s kisses later.

  She put them out of her mind with effort and focused on what she knew about handcuffs. Her mother had taught her how to pick one, but it required a bobby pin or similar object—which she didn’t have—and her hands had to be cuffed in front of her so she could see what she was doing. Plus, if her earlier exertions were any indication, she wouldn’t be able to reach the keyhole without breaking her own arms to do it.

  So that was out.

  But she did remember a technique that Dagmar had taught her to escape from rope restraints. She remembered her mother’s words quite clearly: “If anyone ever tries to tie you up with a rope, tighten your muscles as hard as you can while they’re tying the bonds. Then, relax. You’ll have a little space to work with. As you struggle against the ropes, your wrists will bleed, which is painful, but that’s what you want. The blood will lubricate the bonds, making it easier for you to slip free.”

  They’d tried it, but her mother hadn’t tied the ropes very tight. She didn’t want Liss returning to her boarding school with rope marks around her wrists. Liss had appreciated it at the time, although now she almost wished she had the experience to draw from. It might not work on handcuffs anyway, but she had to try.

  Moving with slow deliberation, Liss began twisting her wrists, testing the bonds. The one on her left hand felt marginally looser than the one on the right, so she focused on that hand. It was difficult not to tense up as she tried to pull her arm free, but after some experimentation, she found that it worked best to pull with her right and leave her left as loose as possible. The cold metal bit into her skin, making her wince, but she ignored the pain as best as she could. Soon enough, she felt the warm wetness of blood on her fingers, and she tried to smear it around her wrist, hoping to lubricate the skin enough to slide out of the handcuff.

  The coppery tang of blood filled the air. Liss belatedly realized that maybe this plan wasn’t so intelligent in a building full of vampires. If Chandra smelled the blood and came to investigate, her opportunity for escape would be lost. But she was committed now, and there was nowhere to go but forward. It wasn’t like she could just put the blood back inside herself.

  So she persevered. Her wrist screamed with pain as she pulled harder and harder, cutting into her skin. But the bones of her hand were just too wide to fit through the cuffs. She wouldn’t be able to get out without breaking her hand. She considered it for a moment, but had to discard the idea. Even if she wanted to do it, she didn’t see any way to accomplish it. And having a broken hand would put her at a distinct disadvantage if she had to fight her way out.

  Damn. She slumped down against the wall, relaxing her aching arms, and tried not to cry out of frustration. It would be okay, she reassured herself. Maybe Chandra wouldn’t be the one to scent her blood. Maybe it would be Gregor. After all, his blood flowed in her veins too, didn’t it? Maybe he could recognize her smell, and he’d launch himself through the door any moment now, his eyes wild. His perfect hair would be in disarray; his clothes would be rumpled. He’d be driven to distraction out of worry for her, and he’d take her in his arms and ask if she was okay. He’d tear off the cuffs with his undead strength. Then he’d hold Chandra down so Liss could kick the crap out of her.

  It was a nice daydream. She even waited a moment, staring at the door expectantly, hoping it would happen. But Gregor didn’t come. Liss knew it was a silly dream, but she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

  Okay, so physical means weren’t going to get her out of the cuffs. If Chandra or Tait came in, she could try logic and charm. But in the meantime, what else did she have? Her skills at blood magic were unreliable. Still, she tried to think back to the book. There had been some glyphs of opening, the ones that Tait had so conveniently “remembered.” Her wrists were bleeding nicely. Now would be a good time to have one of those moments like she’d had at court, where the glyph just surfaced in her brain, screaming to be drawn. But she couldn’t think of anything.

  She kicked at the pile of napkins again in frustration. What good had her blood magic done her? It had made her a target and then abandoned her. All she could do was make a little pin out of blood. What good was that? Maybe if Chandra stood still for about a half an hour, Liss could poke her to death.

  It was hopeless. Liss sat back down against the wall, watching the door. Maybe she could argue with them long enough for help to come.

  Her finger tickled, a drop of blood poised on the end of it. She jer
ked her hand reflexively, shaking it off. Then inspiration came to her. Of course! Why hadn’t she thought of it before? She needed a pin to pick the lock. Who said it had to be an actual pin? She could make one out of blood, and maybe, just maybe, get free.

  Again, she took a moment to calm down before she tried it. The last thing she needed was to lose control, or get so excited that she couldn’t get the blood to respond to her. Only when her breathing was completely calmed did she make her first attempt. First, she focused on the feeling of the blood on her hand. It trickled down her fingers, warm and alive. The magic in it was fainter than in Gregor’s, but she could still sense it if she tried hard enough. She called to it, shaping it in her mind, drawing a calling glyph with her finger. It responded sluggishly at first, but soon she felt it running back up her hands, pooling at her wrist.

  She imagined the twisted pin shape that she wanted and drew the next glyph, trying to instruct the blood to do as she thought, but her hold on it wavered and broke. It all splattered on the ground, and she growled in frustration, pulling against the cuffs hard, urging the blood out of her veins. Soon, she had enough to try again.

  This time, she imagined shaping the blood by hand into the form she wanted. That seemed to work a bit better, and finally, she had what felt like a close approximation of the shape she needed. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel it, a red glow burning in her mind.

  Ever so carefully, she imagined sticking the pin into the keyhole. She felt it move, awkwardly tinging against the metal of the cuffs. Her aim wasn’t so great, but now she felt confident like she hadn’t before. She could do this. She had to do this. All she had to do was hold onto the blood, twist it just right, and she’d be free.

  Click!

  The pressure on her wrist released as the cuff opened. She practically sobbed with relief, pulling her arms in front of her and nearly crying out from the pins and needle sensation that came with the sudden movement. But there was no time for that either. She pushed herself to her feet, clicking the empty cuff onto her right wrist like Tait had done. Now no one could cuff her again without having to unlock it first, and she didn’t intend to let anyone get that close.

  Massaging her leaden arms, she moved toward the door. If it was locked, that would be a whole new obstacle, but one she felt like she could manage with another blood lockpick if it came to that. But the door opened easily, and she turned the knob with deliberate slowness and pulled the door open silently.

  When she took a careful look down the hall, she was relieved to see only one guard stationed at the end of the hallway. He carried a gun, so she’d put good money on his being a human. The only vampires she’d ever seen with guns had been the court guards. Most of them relied on their superior strength to overpower their opponents and considered guns to be a bit beneath them, according to her mother.

  Driven by determination and anger, Liss crept down the hall toward the guard. She’d never been great at fighting groups, but stealth attacks were her forte. She moved down the hall quickly, on catlike feet, and was behind him in a matter of seconds. Then it was a simple matter of slipping her arms around him and cutting off his wind before he could utter a single sound. The cuffs helped, digging into his throat. He gurgled and struggled against her in vain, only managing to pull out a handful of her hair. Then he fell limp in her arms, unconscious.

  As she eased him to the ground, she heard a ding from around the corner. An elevator. She looked around wildly, trying to find a place to hide, but the only door in the hallway behind her led to the storeroom. There was nowhere to go. She dropped into a fighting crouch as footsteps approached her.

  When Gregor and Dagmar came running around the corner, she nearly clotheslined her own mother.

  CHAPTER 16

  The scent of Liss’s blood was faint and old, and so it took a lot of trial and error for Gregor to track it. He and Dagmar made the assumption that her abductors wouldn’t drag a bleeding, unconscious woman through the public areas of the casino, so that narrowed down the possibilities. And if the assailant was a vampire, there were even fewer places where they might want to be seen engaging in illegal activities, since humans might pick up on their differences. Still, Gregor had designed this building with vampires in mind, and so there were five underground floors which fit the profile. They searched each one, trying to hurry while still making a thorough search of the area. Gregor’s heart no longer beat in his chest, but he swore it felt like it was pounding harder with every moment that passed.

  They found success on the third attempt. Liss had been dragged down a hallway. He found a couple spots of blood, and Dagmar pulled some strands of long blonde hair from a door frame where it must have gotten snagged. She’d gone down this hallway, and over to a service elevator, and then…

  More searching, more dead ends. But finally, the door opened into the lowest sub-basement, where more blood spatter awaited them. This smelled different to Gregor’s nose—it wasn’t Liss’s blood at all. But the gore still suggested to him that they were in the right place. Maybe Liss had fought back. Maybe she was in trouble this very moment, and she needed him.

  He couldn’t help it. He broke into a run, Dagmar close on his heels. The hallway before him was empty, and so he sprinted, his fangs coming out as he thought about the things he would do when he caught the person who had hurt her. He flew around the corner, nearly tripping over the prone body on the floor. Then, Liss flew at Dagmar and almost took her off her feet. If not for Dagmar’s quick sidestep, she would have gone down hard.

  They’d found her.

  Gregor took in Liss’s appearance in one quick glance—the bloody wrists, the dirty face, the wild look in her eyes. The moment she realized who they were nearly broke his heart. She looked so relieved, so vulnerable, that he wanted to take her in his arms and shield her from the world. He took a step toward her out of instinct, and then she threw herself into her mother’s arms.

  “I knew you’d come!” she exclaimed.

  Now that her daughter was found, Dagmar settled almost instantly back into her usual unflappable calm, but he could still see the anger in her eyes. It matched his own. But she kept it under wraps, folding her arms around Liss and kissing the top of her head.

  “Of course I’d come,” she said. “I will always come for you. Although by the looks of things, I’m not sure you needed us.”

  Gregor felt awkward standing there staring while they embraced, and he looked around for something to do. His eyes fell upon the limp body of what looked like a guard. Plain black fatigues gave no indication of his allegiance. They were the same fatigues worn by the court guards, but that meant nothing. Besides, all of the court guards were vampire, and by the smell of it, this fellow was human. Knocked out cold, from the looks of it. Liss had subdued him neatly. Traces of her blood at his throat were the only indication that she’d been there at all, and he wouldn’t count on anything but a vampire nose to catch them.

  He straightened from his observation, only to feel the lightest touch graze his hand. Liss stood there, released from her mother’s embrace, offering her hand to him.

  “I knew you’d come too,” she said, almost shyly. Her cheeks went that alluring shade of red that they seemed to so often do, but her eyes met his steadily. “Thank you.”

  He took her hand, reveling in the feel of her soft skin, then pressed it to his lips. Her fingers curled around his in acknowledgement of his kiss. The scent of her blood angered him. How strange, to feel protectiveness instead of hunger at the scent of blood. He wanted to tear apart whomever had done this to her.

  Her eyes followed his to the raw, seeping flesh at her wrist and the blood that gloved her hand. But she didn’t look embarrassed. Instead, she seemed proud.

  “I picked the lock,” she said. “With the blood magic we worked on together. If you hadn’t insisted on practicing with me, I don’t think I could have done it.”

  “I am glad,” he responded, putting weight into his words.

&n
bsp; The freight elevator dinged softly around the corner, signaling its arrival. Gregor dropped Liss’s hand, going instantly on alert. Dagmar shifted her weight ever so slightly, ready for battle. And Liss wetted her fingers in the drying blood on her wrists. Gregor opened his mouth to caution her—he wouldn’t allow her to fight after everything she’d been through. But then he thought better of it. Even if they hadn’t come to help her, he had no doubt that she would have gotten out on her own. She was too smart to be contained.

  Hurried footsteps signified the arrival of what sounded to him like two people. He held up two fingers, looking questioningly at Dagmar for confirmation. She nodded—it sounded like that to her too. Two people was good. Maybe Liss wouldn’t have to get involved.

  Whoever it was, they weren’t talking. Maybe they weren’t involved in this whole thing. No matter how much Gregor wanted to rip their heads off their shoulders, he needed to be sure. He could not lose control, no matter how much he wanted to. Every time he scented the air, he smelled nothing but Liss’s blood, and it had his emotions on a roller coaster. He might realize that, but he still couldn’t keep it under control.

  Chandra and Tait turned the corner. Dagmar tensed but held her ground, and so did Gregor. He was watching them carefully, trying to piece together the situation. They were unarmed and dressed normally. But both wore smug expressions on their faces, at least until they came face to face with Gregor and his companions. Then, Chandra’s face twisted in horror and guilt for just a split second before she covered it up with a look of concern. Tait did a better job of hiding his emotions, but then again, he was Dagmar’s child. He’d learned from a master.

  Gregor shot a look at Dagmar, trying to evaluate how she was taking all of this. Tait’s presence suggested that he was somehow complicit in Liss’s disappearance, and that had to be hard on his mother. But Dagmar had a cold, remote expression that gave nothing away either. He could only hope that she’d hold true to her oaths to him, as well as to her daughter.