“I will,” she promises.
“No!” I say, but she doesn’t hear me, and Marcellus ignores me. My heart squeezes because Brad is about to get hurt.
“Go with them, Marina,” Brad says. “I’ll be fine.” He’s glaring at Marcellus, and Deverell pokes him in the back. Brad growls, and his eyes turn amber as Deverell smiles.
The fear inside me lurches once again because Marcellus told me they kill the wolves. Brad reassures me he will be fine as Marcellus turns to me and grips my arm. I don’t even try to tug out of his grip. I know I can’t. I’m dragged past the hypnotized clerk and then past Brad. As I walk by, Deverell shows me the object he is holding and then shoves it into Brad’s leg. Brad grunts and falls. Deverell twists the dagger and then breaks off the handle, leaving the blade. Brad growls in a low voice and clutches his leg, falling to the floor, blood pooling on the floor. Deverell flanks me, and I’m escorted out. Chirpy Terri stands there slightly swaying, stuck in her daze.
As we near the doors, I realize this is my moment. But on the heels of this, Deverell and Marcellus walk right into direct sunlight, and nothing happens. There is no smoke, no screams, and they are still whole. Confused, I stiff-leg out the door, and Marcellus jerks me a bit. We are heading to a darkly tinted vehicle, and I’m thrust inside. It would upset Brad to know I stuck my butt out getting into the vehicle, but I suppose this is an extenuating circumstance. I plop onto the seat and scooch to the side.
Marcellus sits beside me, and Deverell sits across from me. They are both smiling, and I cross my arms, hunkering into myself. I don’t know what they have planned, but it can’t be good. I have a terrible feeling—a sinking feeling in my gut, and I kick myself for going along so willingly. I should have tried to fight or get away, even though I wouldn’t have stood a chance. Instead, fear took over, and I froze.
I’m caught, and Blake is the one who will pay the price.
SURPRISINGLY, THEY take me to a castle, and I didn’t even know America had such things as this. This place is old. It is built of stone, climbing to the sky, with castle architecture plainly visible, and there is no mistaking what it is. Strange stone creatures are gracing the front of it, set high above. I am led to two massive doors, graced with scary creatures, rings hanging out of their mouths, resting as sentries on the wood—Gargoyle door knockers.
Deverell opens the door to a massive front hall, and we walk down the hall and past a large room in which I see stained glass windows, tapestries, thick rugs, and all the Goth furniture one could imagine. We continue down the drafty, cold hall where it appears to a dead end. To my right is another doorway, and as we pass it to get to the staircase, I notice it is a large dining room filled with more Goth décor. This door rests about eight feet from the foot of the stairs.
Marcellus keeps his grip on my arm as we pass the dining room, and we climb the stone staircase of the Goth castle. We reach the landing; I am out of breath, and he is not since he has none. As we face the long hall, there is one room about ten more feet down and two more across from each other, with a bathroom at the end of the hall. Marcellus pulls me to the suite closest and pretty much shoves me inside. Then he shuts me inside the massive room behind an enormous door, and I know that I’m stuck for this. I do not even try the door, as I know it is locked. And where would I go, anyway? There is no way I can go up against them. I lost myself within moments of Inara looking me in the eyes.
I wander around the room, looking out the window that faces the back of the castle. Trailing my fingers over the furniture, I wish they would just get whatever they will do with me over with. But I know they want Blake here, and they are going to make sure he suffers. I also know they will use me to achieve this, and my heart misses a beat. Blake cares for me, and I know he will come for me regardless of the danger to him.
And I know I need to try and help him.
Deverell and Marcellus had said nothing on the ride over, and I was just as happy for the silence. But now I wish I had tried to get them to talk. I was just too frightened and worried about Brad. I’m sure he will be fine, but the wound looked terrible. I just hope he wasn’t too badly injured and that the cops could see he wasn’t stealing. Maybe he got out before the clerk came to her senses. My thoughts return to Blake, wanting to warn him and feeling powerless to even try to escape this place. My heart lurches once again as I realize he is walking into an ambush. Even if those two let Brad go to tell Blake, it’s still an ambush. I cross my arms and walk around this massive suite again. I stop at a closet that I hadn’t noticed when I made my first pass. Entering, I am greeted by all the Goth clothes one could ever want or hope to own.
There are gowns, suit coats, shoes, baubles, antique jewelry—and an idea comes to me. What is the saying? When in Rome? Maybe I should play dress-up. Brad will be so pleased. I flip through hangers, seeing all types of dresses. Some are slinky, some poofy, and some look like ball gowns. I rule out the slinky ones because I want the freedom of movement. That’s about half of them. I rule out the poofy because I do not want to snag on anything—also; I hear Brad’s voice in my head about poofy hips.
I find a ruby red dress with black accents. It has a choker collar, bares my collarbones, and then covers the tops of my shoulders with pointy cap sleeves. It has a sweetheart neckline showing the tops of my boobs, a corset to push my boobs up, and three-quarter sleeves with lace flaring out from the elbows. The skirt elongates me, coming to rest at the top of my feet. The skirt is pleated, directly in under the front of the corset, and swishes as I walk, giving it an elegant feel. I find a pair of chunky heel black boots that slip a little in the heel, and it completes my look.
Then, I search for jewelry. I dig through the boxes of tangled necklaces and earrings that are snagged on the chains. I rummage through the stale and brassy smell of the jewelry. There are plenty of pieces in all shapes and sizes. I dig through excitedly and find one particularly large piece of jewelry, surprised something like this is here. The chain is the color of pewter, and the pendant looks Celtic in design. It’s about the size of my palm, weighty and cold. I slip it on and tuck it between my breasts. I will use this to my benefit since I am seriously disadvantaged.
I stand in front of a full-length Gothic mirror, surprised they even have one here, and even I don’t recognize myself. I’m just sorry I don’t have the makeup to complete my look. I turn this way and that, satisfied. I need to buy time if Blake isn’t already here. Maybe this will help me do so. I have no doubt Marcellus and Deverell plan on using me against Blake. I’ve been used by men before, so it’s no surprise, and I’m tired of it. If this past week has shown me anything, it’s that I’m stronger than I thought. If this past week has shown me anything, it’s that I do have power.
And I intend to use it.
Blake
WHEN BRAD COMES TO me, I stand absolutely still. If I had blood in my body, it would have drained. Instead, my eyes grow hard and my jaw clenches. I curl my hands into fists, and he steps back from me. I have never hit him, and I don’t intend to now, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to hit something. Brad limps a bit, and I notice the gash on his leg. He tells me he is fine and healing well, but I see the starburst of silver poison on his skin. Yes, he might be healing, but it’s slow.
He tells me he can come with me, and in truth, I will need him. But I also need Shen, and these two will be the only two I take with me. Shen is my secret weapon. Deverell and Marcellus know nothing about him, and I had carefully cultivated it that way. Whatever advantage I can have over those two, I will use.
Over the last hundred years, I worked to establish the business venture they wanted into a piece of paper. I know it upset them. The dinner last week was only to complete the deal on that paper business and show them my new wife so they could report back to the Council. A deal they reneged on when they wished to change the rules, and a deal they now reneged on when they took Marina and stabbed Brad. The gloves are off, as the expression goes. They know it—I know it.
I know I need to be free of them.
This time, I will cut them from my life once and for all.
Chapter Twelve
Marina
I’M SEATED IN THE MASSIVE dining room, still encased in stone, with thick and heavy draperies covering the giant windows which face the front of the castle. Marcellus sits at the head of the table, with the dining room's main door at his back. There is another door situated at the other end of the table, which leads to the kitchen. A large tapestry hangs on the opposite wall from the windows, near running the wall’s length. A plush rug that is larger than the twenty-seat dinner table graces the floor. The dinnerware and silverware are the most antique things I have ever seen. The overhead chandeliers are lit low and cast an eerie glow. The tablecloth is white with a ruby red runner, similar to the accents on my dress. The goblets appear to be pewter or some type of metal that looks ancient.
I sit, ram-rod straight in the plush Goth chair that reminds me of something royalty would sit in. The backrest comes right to my neck, and it creaks whenever I adjust my seat, lending another eerie quality to this surreal setup. My captors sit at the long table with Marcellus at the head. I sit to his right, Inara sits beside me. Deverell sits on the other side of Marcellus and Natalia beside him, across from me.
When Deverell came to fetch me from my prison suite, he raked his eyes over me, up and down, with a smirk. I ignored him the best I could, but I still shivered in fear. The fact that a green glow seemed to emanate around him for a brief second, also increased my unease. But as he gestured for me to leave the room, it had disappeared and it was as if I imagined it. I picked up the side of the skirt and he escorted me downstairs. Dressing like them had been a decision made on a whim, thinking maybe it would throw them off a bit. My resolve almost dissipated under his appreciative gaze. But I have to try. I have to—for Blake.
Now I sit here effectively caged. I know I cannot go anywhere, even if they were not around me. I’m too slow. I’m too physically weak. I only have one weapon at my disposal, now warmed by my skin, hidden in my bodice. Nervous, trying to not to show it, I focus on what these four are wearing, realizing that I have chosen well, trying to fit in. Marcellus wears a long dark blue overcoat, with a matching vest, a white cravat, and black pants and shoes. The lapels on the coat are broad and seem to fit in with the whole Goth theme here.
In fact, all of them are dressed much the same, I note, glancing at each of them. Deverell’s red overcoat is shorter, however. He wears a matching vest underneath, but over a black shirt, and black pants and shoes. Natalia is wearing a collared dress, red, to match Deverell, and it hugs her curves. Inara is dressed in blue to match Marcellus, and her dress is corseted with a loose skirt. Everyone, myself included, looks like we belong in a Goth novel.
“The dress suits you, my dear,” Marcellus intones, his eyes resting on me appreciatively, reminding me of Deverell.
“Yeah, I’m just trying to fit in,” I say, but my voice quivers a bit.
“Very well, I’d say.” Deverell raises an eyebrow, and Natalia shoots daggers at me.
“I mean, you’re all just going to use me anyway, right?” I’m shaking in my chunky heeled boots.
They all sit with their dark goblets filled with red liquid. I eye the decanter on the side table against the wall, under the tapestry hanging on the wall, and briefly wonder whose blood fills that glass. Hopefully, mine won’t fill that once it's empty. The Goth décor here is strangely attractive and seems to fit with the mood and atmosphere of everything going on right now. A part of me realizes that I would do well in this life—with Blake.
“Of course,” Inara purrs, getting into my space.
I angle back a bit, careful not to look her in the eyes. “Or are you going to turn me?” Because that thought has not left my mind since they took me away in their darkly tinted vehicle. “Or am I going to be a—pet?”
“Now there’s a thought,” Deverell replies, looking me up and down. I sit up straighter and glare at him, not liking his consideration of my question. But I brought that on myself. Marcellus has a thoughtful expression on his face. “Then you would belong to us,” Deverell continues, earning a scowl from Natalia.
“What stories did Blake tell you?” Marcellus asks me, his eyes narrowed. I shrug, now wishing I had kept my mouth shut, and look away. “He did take something from us,” he tells me slowly.
I’m not quite sure where my spunk came from. “Or he protected her from you. Your abuses.” My voice is low on that last word, and I’m thankful Blake protected this unknown woman from them.
“Wait!” Natalia straightens up. “Are you talking about that young woman who was going to be a gift?” She looks at Deverell and then at me. I shrug. “Damn, Blake, for interfering.”
Deverell glances at me. “She was going to be a present for Natalia and Inara.”
The memories of the bathroom slam into me and press back into the chair, and I swallow hard. If what I experienced in there was any indication of what that poor woman would have gone through, then I’m glad Blake took her from them. Except, now I’m here, and I might be her replacement. Is that what this is about? I suppress a shudder.
“Don’t be frightened,” Inara says to me. “Pet.” She grins and reaches for her goblet.
“He does owe us,” Natalia regards me thoughtfully.
Marcellus still hasn’t looked away from me. “True,” he says. “Perhaps we will use you and discard you.”
He’s trying to frighten me. It’s working. But... “I might welcome it.” Not that I wish to be a martyr.
“Do you wish for this, my dear?” Marcellus’s eyes are on me, lit up and excited suddenly.
“I’ve wished for death,” I tell him. Everyone seems excited to hear this. I keep quiet as they stare at me, almost licking their lips. I had wished for death. Now, what do I wish for?
After some quiet, and they get a hold of themselves, Deverell says, “I’m surprised Blake has not arrived yet.” He swirls the liquid in his goblet nonchalantly. He takes another long drink and sets it down.
My gaze slides up to the stained-glass windows, now dark, the colors muted. I know Blake is coming, and I will help him with all I can. A loose plan is forming in my head, and I know I am the weakest link here. My gaze slides to the dining room doors and then back to my guests. I know what they want with him, but to use me as a pawn seems low, even for them. However, I’m new to all this, and maybe this is a game they have played over the years. Fear lurches in my belly.
Marcellus is smirking at me and says, “Yes, it is dusk now. He should be here soon.”
“I want to hold her,” Inara says, leaning toward me, smelling me.
I angle away, eyeing her warily. What does that mean? She grins at me, and her teeth look sharp. She smiles wider when she sees me swallow. Her eyes stray to my neck even as I feel the pulse at my neck thump. I want to cover the artery, but I keep my hands in my lap.
“I can smell her fear from here,” Natalia says, a light in her eyes and a slight curl of a smile on her lips. She is excited as well. I bet she’d hop over the table if I told her it was okay.
I want to hunker down into my fearful self. I want to run, but they would chase me, and things would go terribly wrong for me then. I straighten my back with more courage than I feel, and meet her eyes. It was probably not the best thing to do as she had hypnotized me so easily before, but she smirks a smile at me, admiring my bravery. Somehow, this is worse.
Marcellus is smirking at me as well, and Deverell is looking me up and down again. Inara has gone back to her space and drinks casually from her goblet. I’m not sure if I won a round or made them just want me even more. I turn to Marcellus, and he has his head angled slightly, chin toward his shoulder, and he appears to be listening for something. It seems as if they don’t like waiting around. Maybe their impatience will work in Blake’s favor.
“Am I late for the dinner party?”
My heart picks up at his voice, and relief fill
s me even as fear does. My gaze flies to the origin of the voice, and he’s never looked so good. He wears his typical attire, a suit—dressed as if this is some business meeting and this is a boardroom. I want to go to him, but the sharp pain in my knee stops me. Inara’s fingers are squeezing the sides, and I wince. Her lips are in a tight line as she glares at me. I relax, and she removes her hand. Blake glides in and takes the seat across from Marcellus at the other end of the table. He is outnumbered, and my heart squeezes in fear.
“Not at all,” Marcellus says quietly, thoughtfully. “I’d ask you to sit, but you already, so rudely, did so without being asked.”
I can tell Blake doesn’t care about manners. He says to Marcellus, “You kidnapped my wife. I’d say my lack of manners pales in comparison.”
Wife.
Heat blooms in my cheeks, and I glance down the table at him. He does not acknowledge me. Is Brad okay? I want to ask him, but I remain silent and as still as I can. Blake peruses the table as if seeing it for the first time, but something tells me he is studying the room's layout and where everyone sits. I’m going to help him. I have to. I owe him this for everything he has done for me and because I—love—him.
The realization doesn’t exactly startle me since I identified it earlier. But somehow, the fact that he came here makes me even more aware of my feelings and seems to cement them into place, deep in my heart. He came here, walking straight into potential danger, to save me. He came here for me. No other man has ever come to my aid the way he has. I gaze at him down at the end of the table. He has come for me three times, and it speaks to me on a level I’ve never known before. He’s been there for me—a constant—someone I can depend on.
A Vampire's Love Page 16