Aden (Vampires in America)

by D. B. Reynolds

  Was it even night yet? It had been full daylight when they’d taken her. She’d been half out of it from whatever had been on the wet rag they’d slapped over her face, but she remembered that much. The sun had still been shining when they’d dragged her out a back door and into the alley behind Aden’s building.

  Her heart lurched in a sudden burst of fresh fear. Aden. She had to believe he was okay, that the intruders had never made it past the last, and most hardened, layers of his security. She didn’t think they’d had time, and besides, why take her if they had Aden?

  But what would he think when he woke and found her gone? Would he find her blood on the wall where she’d hit her face? Or had her abductors cleaned that up, leaving him to wonder what had happened? Would he think she’d run? That she’d left him? Tears filled her eyes at the thought. Every woman in his life had betrayed him. But Sid hadn’t. She wouldn’t. Did he understand that?

  Sid swallowed her tears, forced herself to think with her brain instead of her heart. She didn’t think Aden would believe she’d run. And even if he did, he’d find her. Aden wasn’t the kind of man a woman walked out on—he was the kind of man who made sure he did the walking. So, he’d come looking for her, even if it was only to dump her.

  A new horrible thought struck her. What if that was what her abductors wanted? What if she was bait for a trap to catch Aden? She couldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t let that happen.

  She sighed, or she tried to. It was difficult with tape over her mouth and a nose that was so swollen she could barely breathe. Still, big words from the little lady all tied up in the trunk. She shifted awkwardly, but there was no comfortable way to lie scrunched up in this small space with her hands bound behind her back. They could have at least kidnapped her in a bigger car. Her head throbbed, her shoulders ached, and there was a hard something digging into the side of her belly. She tried moving again, but the hard thing kept digging… Sid froze. The hard thing was her gun! They must not have searched her, or at least not very well. The knowledge made her more determined than ever to get her hands free, but it didn’t make it easier. The more she struggled, the deeper the plastic seemed to bury itself in her skin.

  She made a frustrated sound behind the thick tape then forced herself to calm down, to think rationally. Her gun was useless if she couldn’t get to it. She still needed her hands free, but it wasn’t serving any purpose for her to thrash about. She had to think smart, and that meant planning ahead. Eventually, they’d have to open the trunk and get her out of here. Even if the plan was to use her as bait, they’d have to have a place to lure Aden to, someplace better than this car. There was no way to predict where that would be, though. So, the only thing she could do for now was be ready to take advantage of whatever opportunity presented itself. As impossible as it seemed, what she needed to do now was to rest, to turn off her head and sleep.

  Good luck with that, she thought. But she closed her eyes and focused on relaxing one muscle at a time, feeling the dregs of the drug still in her system, letting the exhaustion take her . . .

  She jerked awake when someone pounded on the trunk lid, surprised to realize she’d actually managed to sleep. The pounding came again, simply to scare her, she thought, because a moment later a key scraped in the lock, and the lid popped open. Her first reaction was surprise that it was nearly as dark outside the trunk as it had been inside. She must have been stuck in there for hours. But her next reaction was pure relief as cold, fresh air washed over her face, and she drew a strained breath that didn’t reek of fumes and death.

  Her relief was short-lived as one of two men staring down at her grabbed her upper arm and dragged her from the trunk, jerking her shoulder and whacking her ankle painfully against some sort of trailer hitch on the back of the car. Her legs, cramped from too long in a small space, couldn’t hold her when she tried to stand, but her abductor didn’t even try to catch her. He let her fall onto an asphalt driveway, and her elbow cracked against the hard surface. Her cry of pain was muffled by the tape still covering her mouth, but at the same time she registered the fact that the tape was no longer as tight as it had been. The heat and stress of hours in the small space had left her sweaty, her face tear-streaked, and all of that had combined to loosen the tape a little. The knowledge didn’t do much to free her, but it made her feel better somehow. It gave her hope.

  The man gripped her arm once more, and every muscle shrieked in protest as she stumbled upright. She closed her eyes, shutting out the sight of her abductors, wishing she could shut out the whole experience as easily. Everything hurt, from her swollen nose to her right ankle and everything in between.

  “Walk, bitch. I ain’t carrying you.”

  Sid really looked at her guards for the first time. She couldn’t be positive—everything had happened so fast—but she didn’t think either one of these two had been among her abductors this morning. Maybe that was what had taken so long. Maybe they’d driven her around until these two could pick her up. Or maybe they’d been parked somewhere while she slept. Or, hell, maybe she was simply mistaken about who’d been in on the original kidnapping. One thing she felt sure of . . . whoever was behind all of this was waiting for her in the small clapboard house at the end of this driveway.

  She swiveled her head around as much as she could. The neighborhood was familiar in a way that told her she’d either been here before, or, equally possible, she’d been to someplace just like it. Badly run-down houses were squeezed onto tiny lots and surrounded by apartment buildings in even worse shape. Cars lined both sides of the street, some up on blocks and all of them old and badly used. The street was dark, lit mostly by the light of the half moon, the street lights either shot or burned out. And it struck her. This was the same neighborhood where she’d staked out some of Klemens’s drug dealers. Not this house, but it was close enough that it worried her.

  Her captor caught her looking around and shook her like a rag doll.

  “Don’t be looking at my ’hood, bitch. This place got nothin’ to do with you.”

  Black splotches swam in her vision, but Sid fought them away, determined to remain conscious. She needed to see as much as she could in order to plan her escape. Some people might consider thoughts of escape ridiculous in her current situation, but that didn’t stop Sid. Situations could change. People could grow lazy or complacent and give her an opening. She wouldn’t need much. Although, she thought, frowning, she would need to get her hands free.

  That thought had a deflating effect, and for the first time since her abduction, she felt the full weight of her predicament. Her shoulders slumped dejectedly. Her captors saw and laughed as they dragged her through the side door and into the house.

  The sturdy door and elaborate lock confirmed that this wasn’t an ordinary house, that it was probably used by drug dealers. But Sid couldn’t imagine what they’d want with her. She’d done an article or two on the drug culture in Chicago, but that had been more than a year ago, and the stories hadn’t garnered enough attention to inconvenience anyone, much less do real damage.

  As they hustled her through a filthy kitchen smelling of grease and old trash, however, she had a second, chilling thought. Aden had wiped out the heart of the slave network, but he hadn’t caught the one vampire Sid was absolutely sure had been the driver behind the whole thing. Carl Pinto. And Klemens’s slave trade had always been closely tied to his drug dealings.

  She felt a tremor that started in her stomach and radiated outward, shaking her entire body before it was finished. She wanted to attribute it to the drugs they’d given her, or to the adrenaline overload, but it was fear, pure and simple. She’d seen what Pinto was capable of, his cruelty and callousness. The women he’d trafficked had been nothing but meat to him. Objects to be bought and sold, and if they weren’t profitable, they were crushed and thrown away.

  “That’s right, bitch,” her captor said, reacting to her trembling. “The man’s lookin’ forward to takin’ care of you.”
>
  Sid couldn’t have responded to the taunt if she’d wanted to, not with the tape still covering her mouth. As it was, however, she was too busy trying to stay on her feet, trying to come up with a scenario that didn’t end up with her dead or shipped off as a slave. She was pretty sure she’d rather be dead.

  “Sidonie Reid,” someone growled, and she looked up to find the very vampire she’d most feared. Carl Pinto sat in a big leather chair, the only piece of furniture in the room that wasn’t falling apart.

  Sid swallowed hard, her heart pounding so violently that it felt like it was crawling up her throat and had to be forced back to where it belonged.

  “You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, little girl. A lot of trouble,” he repeated thoughtfully, almost as if he was talking to himself. “But no matter. I’ve got you now.” He nodded to the guard holding her arm, and she was shoved forward and to her knees, so that she had to look up at Pinto as the tape was ripped off her mouth.

  “That’s better,” he said, gazing down at her with cold eyes. “That’s where you belong, where all of you belong.”

  “All of us,” Sid croaked, ignoring the voice inside her head that was telling her to shut up. She knew that it would be smarter, but if she was going to die, she was going to go down fighting, even if all she had to fight with were her words. “You mean all of us humans, or all of us women? You have a problem with women, Pinto?”

  She saw the rage fill his face seconds before he leaned over and backhanded her hard enough to spin her around and slam her to the floor. He’d used his open hand, which was the only reason she was still alive. He was a vampire. She’d have to remember that. His strength was several times that of a human. A casual slap could break her jaw. And that had been no casual slap. Her ears were still ringing, and she was having trouble seeing straight.

  “Watch your mouth, whore, or I’ll put it to better use.”

  Sid lay on the floor, blinking, trying to come up with the energy, the desire, to force herself upright, to confront this monster with whatever dignity she had left.

  “Get up,” Pinto demanded.

  Sid made the effort, but she’d been hit twice today, both times hard enough to have her seeing stars, and it was taking longer for her to recover. That her hands were still bound behind her back didn’t exactly make it any easier, either. She made a show of trying to drag herself off the floor and nearly made it before falling to her side, unable to catch herself with her hands tied.

  “I like seeing you like this,” Pinto said, chuckling. “Rich bitch Sidonie Reid crawling on the floor.”

  Sid felt the heavy weight of his booted foot against her side, digging into her ribs hard enough to hurt as he shoved her back and forth, almost idly.

  “Where’s your daddy’s money now, bitch? It wasn’t my idea to let you live, you know. That was Klemens. Didn’t want to rattle the moneyed class. They’re willing to overlook almost anything as long as none of theirs gets hurt. He let me take that little whore friend of yours, though. What was her name . . .” His voice trailed off, as if he was trying to remember.

  Sid knew he was playing with her, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want Janey’s name on this monster’s lips. “Janey,” she said, shocked at the raw sound of her own voice. “Her name was Janey, and you killed her.”

  “Didn’t stop you, though, did it? You just kept coming and coming, and still Klemens wouldn’t let me kill you.”

  She heard the squeak of leather as he rose from the chair, the scuff of his boots on the rough carpet, and then he was crouched right next to her, cruel eyes staring at her out of a face that was too handsome to be so evil.

  “But Klemens is dead now, princess. And you’re all mine.”

  Sid croaked a wordless protest, and he laughed.

  “Tell you what. I’m going to do you a favor. You care so damn much about my slaves, you can fucking well join them. You’re a bit older than my usual merchandise, but that red hair’s worth something, and you’re white. That’s always a selling point. You’ll fetch a nice price.”

  Sid saw the kick coming, but there was nothing she could do to stop his boot before it slammed into her ribs. She sucked in a shocked breath and knew he’d cracked a rib or two.

  “You,” he said over her head. “Take care of her. You know what to do.”

  “Get up,” her guard ordered. He grabbed one of her bound arms and pulled her to her feet.

  Sid nearly screamed with the pain, but bit her tongue to stop the sound from escaping her mouth. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d hurt her.

  As the guard shuffled her from the room, Pinto spoke up from behind her. “Cut the ties on her hands before you lock the door. I don’t want to damage the merchandise any more than necessary, but make sure she stays put.”

  The guard grunted an acknowledgment as he pulled a key ring from his pocket and unlocked one of the bedroom doors. Several women were already inside, and they looked up as the door opened, their faces wearing identical expressions of fear. Sid had enough time to register their presence before she was shoved hard, just managing to keep her face from slamming into the floor as she fell. The guard snorted a laugh as he knelt next to her, one heavy hand gripping her thigh, pinching it as if testing for tenderness. She tried to roll away from him, feeling something close to horror at the idea that he might rape her, knowing she’d fight with everything she had to stop him, and knowing it might not be enough. The guard grinned, as if her pitiful efforts amused him. Rolling her onto her stomach, he shoved her face into the rough carpet and held her there with a knee in the middle of her back. There was a tug on her bound wrists, and then, with a snap of released plastic, her hands were suddenly free.

  Sid couldn’t stop a cry of misery as blood flowed back into her hands and fingers, as strained muscles struggled to return to their rightful configuration. She lay on her side, gasping for breath, her sore hands curled protectively against her chest, her entire body shrieking with pain. But despite it all, a surge of adrenaline whipped through her system, making her heart pound with triumph.

  She had her gun. And her hands were finally free. Things were looking up.

  BEFORE THE ELEVATOR doors opened onto the lobby, Aden smelled more blood. It was nowhere near the slaughter that had greeted him upstairs. This was one man. He knew that before he saw the police gathered around the doorman’s body in its dark blue blazer. Humans swarmed the scene, technicians gathering every bit of evidence they could find. It wouldn’t do them any good, Aden thought. Whichever vampire had set this in motion would see to it that no one survived to testify to the event.

  “Mister Aden?” A human male wearing a suit that cost less than the shirt and tie Aden was wearing approached him warily. He met Aden’s eyes only briefly before quickly looking away. Many humans believed a vampire could only influence a mind if they met the person’s eyes. That might be true of a lesser vampire, one who needed the contact to reinforce his control. But it was definitely not true of one with Aden’s power and ability. He didn’t correct the detective, however. The mistaken belief served vampire interests well.

  “I am Aden,” he acknowledged, scanning the scene. “How did he die?” he asked, although he already knew. He could smell the gunpowder.

  The detective didn’t answer his question, but posed one of his own instead, intent on taking charge of the conversation. “Where were you between ten and noon this morning?”

  Aden gave the man a patient look. “I am a vampire, Detective . . .”

  “Trevisani,” the man supplied.

  “Detective Trevisani. I assure you that I and my staff were quite incapable of rising from our beds when this was happening.” He could feel Bastien’s growing tension, his aggression simmering just under the surface, heightened by the blood here and upstairs, and by what he perceived as a threat to his Sire. He was a good lieutenant, disciplined and highly skilled. But having his Sire’s territory invaded while they’d slept unknowing only yards aw
ay, and now with this human policeman all but accusing Aden of the crime . . . it was enough to strain the mettle of the most restrained of vampires.

  To his credit, Trevisani had the grace to look embarrassed at his gaffe. Obviously, a vampire hadn’t killed the doorman. That didn’t mean a vampire hadn’t been behind it, however, and the good detective was both smart enough to know that and confident enough not to be cowed by his initial mistake.

  “Granted,” he said, nodding. “But you own the top two floors of this building.”

  “I do.”

  “And my sources tell me there’s some big vampire meeting in the city this week.”

  Well, that was interesting, Aden thought. The Vampire Council didn’t exactly maintain secrecy about their affairs. It would have been impossible given the sheer number of participants staying in town, not to mention the gala itself, which had drawn some attention. But the detective’s comment made Aden suspect that it went beyond idle curiosity, that perhaps the Chicago police had spies within vampire society in the city. He’d have to remember that when he became Lord of the Midwest.

  “That’s true,” Aden said, agreeing without providing details.

  Trevisani grunted. “I’m thinking maybe this attack had something to do with you personally.”

  “It was not a vampire who did this,” Aden said confidently. “It clearly happened in full daylight—”

  “Could be a hit team hired by a vamp,” Trevisani interrupted to say.

  Aden smiled patiently. “As I was saying . . . vampires do not attack each other in daylight. It’s forbidden by custom, and the repercussions for any vampire who dared would be significant.”

  “So who hates you enough to pay the price?”

  Aden huffed a humorless laugh. “I have many enemies, Detective, but I do not believe this was aimed at me. There was no attempt to breach my security.”

  “The elevator was open when we got here, and there’s blood inside.”