by Lizzy Ford
"I don’t even speak French," she muttered. "No passport, no identification, no shoes."
She moved along, foot-by-foot, focusing on the next stone and on her anger to keep from sobbing and falling to her doom. The sounds of chaos below grew as emergency vehicles responded.
Boom. She tensed and held her breath. The rocket slammed into an ambulance parked in front of Andre’s, the brilliant explosion throwing heat and light that reached her on what she estimated was the twentieth floor. She started moving again, panic rising as she realized not all the attackers in the building across the street had jumped to the street. She was vulnerable, exposed. If they wanted her dead, she’d given them the best target imaginable.
A shuffling drew her attention, the sound at odds with the chaos below. She looked back toward Andre’s apartment, surprised to see two dark forms on the ledge following her.
She reached a balcony and lowered herself carefully onto it. The French doors were locked, and she beat on them, looking around wildly for deck furniture to break the glass. The patio was empty.
Boom. She dropped instinctively to the ground. The rocket smashed into the floor below, shattering glass and pulverizing part of the balcony. The impact was close enough to deafen her to everything but her own breathing. She stared at the broken glass before her and then at the men nearing on the ledge. Across the street, she imagined the man with the rockets taking careful aim at her. Her only chance at safety was across a swath of broken glass.
For the second time that night, she began to think she hadn’t drunk enough whiskey. She rose unsteadily and brushed some of the glass away with her bare foot, near tears.
Boom.
She ran, crying out as glass shredded her feet. She forced herself to continue to the apartment’s entrance and flung open the door, revealing a hall with auxiliary lighting reflecting off a white marble floor. She stepped inside, sagged against the wall, and lifted one bloodied foot. She pried glass free with shaking hands between sobs, then set her foot down and did the same for the other. Familiar dizziness assailed her. She shoved herself away from the wall and staggered down the hall. A hole in the floor was between her and the elevators.
Boom. The lights went out. She clung to the wall, at a loss as to what to do. Right about now, she’d be happy to see Kris and would even risk going to the shadow world!
She felt two tiny bites on her arm, and suddenly electricity flew through her. Her mouth opened in a frozen scream as the burning pain paralyzed her. The current stopped, and she convulsed on the cold marble floor.
Red flashlights blurred before her eyes. Gloved hands snatched her. A hood went over her head, and she was flung across someone’s shoulder hard enough to make her ribs flare with pain.
Dazed and pained, she couldn’t help but wish she’d just jumped off the ledge instead.
Chapter Four
Sasha himself, followed by two members of his guard of immortal badass creatures, delivered the new, bloodied tenant to the cell across the hall. They were trailed by a man Rhyn recognized well.
Jade. One of Kris's warriors. With some satisfaction, Rhyn wondered if another of Kris's men had gotten as fed up with Kris as he had.
Sasha left without even a smartass remark, and Rhyn rose, gazing with interest across the hall. The scent of blood made his blood sizzle. The bloody mess in the next cell was a human. There was something very different about the human's blood, like comparing warm, homemade bread with stale crumbs out of the garbage.
He drooled at the smell, his gums and body aching for a taste. In all his years as an immortal, he's never drooled over anything!
Immortal mate. There was no mistaking the sense, just as there was no mistaking this human was so much more than a mate for the average immortal.
Ancient mate.
Surprised, he cursed Death for dumping the vulnerable human he was meant to protect into Hell before freeing him!
The cell block fell silent, and he sensed the others also smelled the human blood. The cowering healer left his corner of the cell for the first time in a while and approached the human on the bed. Its tongue flickered out as it rolled the human. Gently, the healer began its trade.
Rhyn watched, even more fascinated when the healer hesitated suddenly and withdrew.
"What is it, Rhyn? And why does it smell like the best hamburger earth can make?" Jared broke the predatory silence.
"Looks human," Rhyn replied. "Smells human."
"My left arm for a bite…" Jared groaned. "What's that freak doing?"
The healer's nervous gaze flickered to Rhyn. It drew the human off the bed and dragged the body into the corner, as if to protect them both from the immortal prisoner.
"Nothing right now," Rhyn replied. "Worst healer I've ever seen. Should be done by now."
"N…no!" the healer replied, agitation crossing its features. "Not a normal h…human."
"Looks and smells normal."
"N…no!"
It said nothing more but ducked its head and began to clean the human with its long tongue, shuddering at each lick. Rhyn felt suddenly jealous, wishing he could taste what smelled so wonderful.
He paced again, wondering why Sasha would put a human in his zoo, unless this was the worst human in the world.
The more he watched, the less likely this seemed. The human was a female, and a young one. Her dark, curly hair was matted with blood, her features pale. The healer stopped to rest and pushed immortal sustenance--small square water and food cubes--into her mouth.
Her draw was insane. Her blood smelled sweet, and the oddly charged aura around her made his brow furrow. In all his years, he'd never seen anything like her.
Ancient's mate. His mate.
He froze. He'd heard how other immortals stumbled upon the humans meant to mate with them. There were few humans who could stick it out with an immortal; something in their blood made them different from all the others. He'd felt a familiar sense around…
Lilith. The woman whose death by his hand had landed him here in Hell.
Only the draw around this woman meant for him was much stronger. Much more dangerous.
He growled deep and low, glaring at the woman across the hall. The healer pulled her into its arms, his gaze flickering around again.
Rhyn had thought himself in love with Lilith once, and so had Kris and half their brothers. Fools, all of them! She'd been a siren, a human whose black heart lured any immortal she encountered into the hands of the Dark One! The woman across the hall held the same beguiling aura.
Rhyn retreated to the wall and sat with his back against it, staring at the healer that held the woman protectively in his arms.
Every human had its own special power, similar to immortals. He wondered what hers was, and if it was the same gift of treachery that had doomed Lilith.
Katie awoke on the lower bunk bed in a prison cell with no windows and a tiny metal toilet and sink. Her blurred vision fell to the corner, where a creature with glowing emerald eyes crouched. She jerked back, pain shooting through her.
"You brought much blood," the creature said, its voice trembling a little with excitement.
She closed her eyes and pushed herself up, her breath catching at the sharp pain in her ribs. Her feet felt swollen and fiery.
"What are you?" the creature asked. Its voice was hoarse, and it spoke with a small lisp.
She braced herself and opened her eyes. The lighting was harsh. Aside from its large, glowing green eyes, the creature appeared near-human with a lean body covered in some sort of leather jumper. She couldn’t distinguish whether it was male or female. The voice sounded like the sultry growl of a woman, but it had short hair and no breasts. And four fingers on each hand. Its skin was porcelain pale, as if it never saw sunlight.
"I’m a human," she said.
"A mortal human?" it replied skeptically.
"Is there any other kind?"
The creature looked confused but shifted from its guarded crouch to a kneeling
position.
"Does the mortal human have a name?" it asked.
"Katie."
"Katie," it repeated pensively. "Kaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatie."
Her feet were swollen and shredded, as she expected. The creature repeated her name several more times while she examined her body. She was bruised all over and wondered if her ribs were broken as well. She’d be lucky to walk again soon, and without medical supplies…with her luck lately, she wouldn’t die from infection, just suffer for the rest of her life.
"Kaaaaaaaaaaaatie."
"Would you stop that?" she snapped, her head aching.
"Katie."
"Do you have a name?"
"Lankha," it said promptly.
"Where are we, Lankha?"
"In Hell. Heeeeeeeeeeell."
She looked out of the front of the cell into a small corridor with equally harsh lighting. Across from them was another cell, this one darkened. Its occupant stared back at her with glowing silver eyes.
"He drinks blood. He smells yours," Lankha volunteered.
"What is he?"
"Don’t know. From the mortal human realm like you."
"What…realm is this?" she asked.
"Heeeeeeeeeell. It’s in the underworld, the only place where immortals can’t come."
If no immortals could save her, she wondered who could. Who’d have ever thought she’d want to be found by the jackass, Kris?
"I need whiskey," she said, and rubbed her head.
"Whiiiiiiiiskeeeeeeey." Lankha’s voice was almost sing-song. It stood and retrieved small blue pellets from its bed, offering them to her.
"What is it?" she asked, accepting them.
"Water for mortal human. Warden says one every moon cycle."
She eyed them doubtfully but popped one into her mouth. It tasted like a plain jelly bean, until she swallowed, when it felt like a stream of water spilled from the back of her mouth to her gullet. Within seconds, she felt refreshed.
Lankha retrieved a small satchel from its bed and sat cross-legged on the floor beside her feet, withdrawing small vials and balled gauze.
"What’re you doing?" she asked, watching.
"I’m a healer. Heeeeeeeeeeeeeealer. Warden put you here so I could help you. I cleaned your blood. I started but grew tired. Now, I finish."
Lankha licked its lips in satisfaction. She feared asking more and braced herself when it took one foot in its hand. Lankha’s hands were covered in what felt like soft, feathery, cool micro-suede. Its touched eased the heat and pain. She watched, astonished, as it carefully cleaned her feet without hurting them and then slathered on oil from one vial and wrapped them in gauze. When it’d finished, she felt little pain, and the heat was completely gone.
"That’s amazing, Lankha," she voiced.
"Amaaaaaaazing," it agreed. "I’m the oldest male healer in my guild. There's one female older. Your body is stubborn, but you will heal."
Male, she noted mentally.
His hands traveled up her legs with the expertise and gentleness of a doctor, all the while spreading the soft coolness through her. His touch lingered on bruises, and he retrieved a small tool when he reached the hem of her dress. He sliced through it, and she pushed his hand away.
"You’re hurt," he said, surprised.
"I don’t have any other clothes! You can’t be cutting up the only set I do have."
He looked concerned and stood again, retrieving something else from his bed. He dropped a leather jumper similar to his on her lap and then returned to his cutting. The creature across the hall growled. She didn’t let herself think too much about what it might be, how she ended up in Hell, or why she’d just let some otherworldly creature with fuzzy hands cut off her clothes. No, those were not thoughts she could handle in her current condition.
Lankha’s hands remained on her ribs for a long, long time. He appeared satisfied at last and touched her breast. She slapped his hand away, and he looked at her, confused again.
"What are these?" he asked.
"Just ignore them and finish up."
He obeyed. He finished at long last and replaced all his things in his satchel. She pulled on the jumper, not expecting it to fit and surprised to find the leather-like material as flexible as spandex. It fit snugly, though it was so thin, she still felt exposed.
"What do you do?" Lankha asked, sitting back.
"I’m in the food industry. I help them with marketing, which would’ve been my major, if I didn’t quit school on the fourth day."
"You make vegetables? There’s a marketing guild?"
"Oh, no," she said, realizing his meaning. "I don’t do anything…special like you."
He frowned.
"Rather, doing nothing is my apparent talent," she clarified.
"You are not a normal mortal human."
"No. I’m, um, apparently unaffected by the…talents of other…guild guys, unless they’re, like, really old," she fumbled.
"Ooooohhhhh. Old like me, oldest in my guild."
"Yeah, I guess."
"Very nice talent," he said. "Very rare. Not good for you, though."
"Why not?"
"The Ancients are very rare. I’ve been in Heeeeeeeeeeeell forever, and if I wasn’t here, I couldn’t heal you."
"Only the Ancients can offer any protection," she murmured with a frown. "Interesting."
"You’ll die soon."
"Shouldn’t I be dead already if I’m in Hell?"
He shrugged, not nearly as concerned with her life or death as she was. She set the blue water pills on her pillow and stretched back. Her ribs were sore but no longer painful. Amnesia was looking like a good option compared to Hell.
"Now you pay me," Lankha said.
"Excuse me? Pay you what?"
He smiled, revealing fangs among the neat row of white teeth. She shivered, cold inside.
"Blood," he confirmed.
She stared at him.
"Not much. I don’t have the appetite of the beast," he said, lifting his chin to the glowing silver eyes across the corridor.
He took her hand gently in his feathery, cool hands and pressed a finger to the inside of her forearm. It fell numb. She said nothing, the world too surreal for her, and turned her head away as he dipped his head. She didn’t feel his fangs sink into her, but she heard the sound of punctured flesh. He sipped quietly. As promised, he did not drink long, and she felt him press another finger to the wound to seal the seepage.
Her stomach turned. She didn't know how she could ever eat again.
The beast across the hall roared and threw itself against its prison. The cell wall buckled and bent. She scrambled toward the back of the cell, huddling with Lankha in a corner. She couldn’t see what was there but knew it was on its way to get her.
"He likes mortal human blood," Lankha whispered.
"No shit!"
A man in a robe hurried down the hall as the beast battered itself against the weakening cell. The man paused and whispered something in a harsh tongue. The cell repaired itself until it stood straight again. The beast within continued to throw itself at it, ceasing finally when it saw the prison had been reinforced.
The robed man strode away, and Katie and Lankha eased from the corner. She sat on her bunk while Lankha climbed atop his. She stared at the beast across the hall staring at her and soon heard Lankha’s snores. He was fed and happy. She shuddered, looking at the tiny scars of his teeth on her forearm.
One day, she’d wake up and find herself on the Metro again.
"Hey, human."
She glanced up. The voice came from a cell down the hall.
"Lunchmeat," the male voice called.
She moved to the bars at the front of her cell, aware of the beast across the hall doing the same with a growl. Pale hands draped through bars two cells down from the beast.
"Did you just call me lunchmeat?" she asked.
"Oh yeah. A little mortal meat, some cheese and crackers. How ya doin’, lunchmeat?"
/> "Pretty shitty. Is there anyone here who doesn’t want to eat me or drink my blood?"
The masculine voice gave a surprised laugh, and he pressed his face to the bars. He looked human, aside from the fanged smile.
"Sexy lunchmeat," he said. "You’d enjoy what I’d do to you."
"Never really been a fan of being eaten alive," she returned.
"Spunky. Me likey."
"Thanks, psycho."
"You talk big behind those bars, little girl," another voice said.
She stared with surprise at the low growl from the darkened cell across from her.
"The rabid dog speaks," she noted. "I’m already in Hell. I’m thinking death might be a bit more to my liking."
The pale, fanged man laughed again.
"Which one of you will promise me a painless death?" she baited, at her last wit’s end.
"I’ll make it less painful than usual," the pale man said.
"I like pain," another voice down the block growled.
"Less pain than Jared."
"More pain than Jared but less than Khakhala."
"No deal."
"No death, just pain."
"Mortal blood rocks."
"Can I get some action and then give you a painless death?"
The immortals in the cell block threw out their best offers, and she couldn't help the sense of terror settling into her gut.
"No," she replied. "No action. Just the pleasure of killing me. You can do whatever you want to my body afterwards."
"No good to me dead."
"Only good to me dead. Not allowed to kill."
The voices down the hall were all male, though she doubted any of them were human.
"No pain," the beast across from her said.
"Don’t you want to drink my blood?" she asked skeptically.
"It won’t hurt, little girl." His menacing growl chilled her more than any of the others’.
"I’ll think about it," she replied, and stepped away from the bars.
"Hey Lunchmeat," the pale man, Jared, called.