And every time he tried to hit her, she responded with a stroke of her own. A thrust to his shoulder, a slash across his chest, a puncture through his calf. Each injury sent fire racing through his body as his own weapon poisoned him, and sapped a little more of his strength.
The only thing that kept him going was Caitlin, still kneeling before Angelica's throne.
But no matter what the movies tell you, love doesn't conquer a damn thing. He never had a chance against Angelica, and when she finally slapped the sword out of his hand, it was almost a relief.
Getting stabbed through the heart with a silver blade, though, that was a lot less relieving.
"Caitlin, come here," Angelica said. Michael could see her trying to resist, but Caitlin stood and walked down the throne's steps. Her movements were mechanical, like she was being controlled by strings. Which she kind of was.
Angelica stood behind Michael and, when she was sure she had a solid grip on him, yanked the sword out. He gasped, and nearly fell, but she held him in place.
"Michael," she said. Her voice had that ringing authority of a Sire commanding a Scion. "Kill her."
"Go to hell," he said. He wanted to spit the words out, but it was more of a sputter.
She yanked his hair and turned his head around. She locked eyes with him, and he could feel her burrowing into his mind. "Kill her," she said.
"Never."
She pushed further into his brain. "Kill her." The idea echoed inside of him, and it started to sound reasonable. It started to sound acceptable. It started to sound like it was his own idea. Like it was something that he should do. Like it was something he had to do.
She released his head, and he looked back at Caitlin. Young, delicious Caitlin. He imagined the salt of her tears, her skin, her blood. Her heart was pounding, ready to pump sweet ambrosia into his fanged mouth. It would be so simple, so easy. So right.
"No!" He shook his head, driving Angelica out of it. He didn't care how old, how powerful she was, that bitch wasn't going to win.
Angelica stared at them for a moment. "Interesting," she said. "He must really love you, to be able to resist my influence."
She dropped Michael on the ground, and stepped over him. She ran her fingers through Caitlin's hair, pulling it back behind her ear. Caitlin whimpered.
"But that's okay," Angelica said. "I have a plan."
Chapter Twenty One
He was alive. Michael was still alive. Or undead. Whatever the right word was.
But he didn't look good. Blood was leaking from a dozen cuts and slashes, none of which looked like they were healing. Smoke rose from his chest, where Angelica had driven the sword. And the silver was poisoning him. His veins were becoming black streaks, radiating out from the puncture.
Caitlin was really tired of seeing him like this.
Angelica looked almost sad as she stared at him. But she shook her head and steeled her eyes, and then grabbed Michael by the hair and lifted him off the ground.
"Don't!" Caitlin yelled.
Angelica gave her a cruel smile. "Don't worry about Michael, child. He's resilient. I'd be much more concerned with your own situation. Evan?"
Evan lifted his head. "Yes, Angelica?"
"Take Caitlin up to the guest room. Make sure she she's secure. And if she resists you ... hurt her. Be creative."
Evan looked at Caitlin miserably. "Yes, Angelica." Caitlin could hear the pain in his voice. Not that that was going to help her.
He took hold of her wrist, and Caitlin yanked it away, purely on instinct. Pure, rabid hatred filled his eyes, and he took both of her wrists in a crushing grip. She tried to wriggle free, but his hands were locked as tight as a vice. Tears welled up, and she sank to her knees. "You're hurting me," she said.
"I know." His voice caught in his throat.
Angelica laughed. "You should do what he says, Caitlin. Evan?"
Evan pulled her to her feet and led her out of the throne room, leading her along by the wrist. His hand was still clamped over hers, cutting off the circulation.
Caitlin was led out into the mansion itself. It looked a lot like Michael's, just bigger and fancier. A handful of people—actually, they were probably vampires—were sitting or standing around, but they didn't look at her with anything more than curious boredom.
"You don't have to do this," She said to Evan. Her voice cracked a little.
"Yes, I do," he said. His jaw was clenched. "I have to do whatever Angelica asks. So please don't make this any harder than it has to be."
"Do you know what she's going to do to me?"
"I know it'll be worse if you fight."
He led her up a big, winding double staircase, then down a hallway. He opened the last door and pushed her inside. Caitlin tried to push the door back open with her shoulder, but he slammed it closed. The lock clicked, and she was all alone.
Blood flowed back into her arm, and it lit up with pain. Bruises were already forming.
The room was almost an entire apartment. It had a full bath, with an old-fashioned tub that stood on feet, and towels as thick as a down comforter. The bed was enormous, and covered in dozens of pillows. There was a shelf full of books, and a television. A wardrobe sat in the corner, and Caitlin could see some sort of fancy nightclothes hanging inside.
The windows were covered with thick, iron bars. The bars were even on the outside of the window, so she couldn't chip away at them. Not that she had anything to chip with, but still. She wondered what kind of prisoners Angelica kept, and how often she kept them.
She probably should have been panicking, or furious, or ... something. But instead, she was just numb. It was all too much. She had been kidnapped too many times, seen her friends in danger too many times, seen Michael hurt too many times. She had seen too many people die.
She didn't have anything left, so she lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Soon after, she fell asleep.
***
Caitlin woke to find that breakfast had been laid out for her. She was reluctant to accept anything from Angelica, but her stomach complained loudly, and she sat down to eat. Someone had brought her a complete meal: toast, scrambled eggs, grapefruit, juice and milk. She wondered at the fact that the vampires had a kitchen—and seemed to be really good cooks—but then she figured Angelica probably kept a whole host of ordinary humans under her thrall. They would all have to eat.
She slipped one of the knives under her pillow, just in case.
Caitlin felt grimy, and she didn't exactly have anything better to do, so she took a quick bath, wrapped herself in a robe she found in the dresser, then washed her clothes in the sink.
She didn't do much of anything that first day. It just seemed out of place to watch soap operas while she waited for a monster to decide that it was time to eat her. Someone brought her lunch around noon, a zombie-looking guy that must have been in Angelica's thrall. He refused to speak to Caitlin, or even look at her. He brought her dinner when night fell, too, but otherwise she was left alone to stare at the walls.
Caitlin started to go a little stir crazy on the second day, so she walked over to the bookcase and started browsing. Angelica had Bram Stoker's Dracula on the shelf, which Caitlin thought was hilarious.
She read a lot over the next couple of days. It's amazing how much you can read when that's all you have to do, all day, every day.
Aside from the guy that silently brought Caitlin her meals, she was left to herself. As far as she could tell, she was all alone in Angelica's mansion.
Angelica didn't appear until the third night.
"Comfortable?" she asked. "Is the food all right? I can't eat any more, so I never really know if my chef is worth the money I pay him."
"Why do you care?" Caitlin asked.
Angelica's eyebrows creased. "Because I'm paying for a service, and I want to get the best value I can."
Caitlin rolled her eyes. "No, why do you care if I'm comfortable?"
Angelica smiled. "For Michael, o
f course. I want to make sure you're keeping your strength up for him."
"Where is he?" Caitlin asked.
Angelica ignored her question, and started walking around the room."He's really never fed from you?" she asked. "Not even a sip?" She looked at Caitlin coyly. "Maybe a tiny little nibble, somewhere no one can see? It's all right, you can tell me. It'll be our secret, between girls."
"What? No. No, he's never fed off of me. He's never tasted human blood.."
She shook her head. "And that's the problem. He just doesn't know what he's missing. He doesn't know how ... glorious it is to let the monster free. Maybe ... maybe Liam was right. I've domesticated the vampires in this city. Turned them into pets." She looked up at Caitlin. "I never wanted Michael to be my pet. I wanted him to be my equal."
Angelica started pacing around the room. "You've had his blood. You know that it lets you get inside his head. Imagine making love to a man like that. Feeling everything he feels. Experiencing your love through his eyes. Feeling his passion. That's what it's like when vampires make love. Human sex can't even begin to compare.
"But do you know what I feel when I drink Michael's blood? Regret. Anger. Hatred. He hates me, Caitlin. He hates me for what I've built here, for what I let happen to Sarah. For changing him.
"And then there's you. He feels for you what I've always wanted him to feel for me. Lust and passion, sure, but there's more. I think he actually loves you.
"He has so much potential, Caitlin. He's so powerful. I don't keep werewolves around as cannon fodder. They're actually very good fighters. But Michael cuts through them like paper dolls. He's vicious, Caitlin. An animal." Her voice became wistful. "So fierce. And if he was drinking human blood? I don't know who could stop him.
"He hates himself," Angelica continued, her voice clear again, "and he hates me, and he hates our kind. I think he'd kill us all, if he could. And it's my fault. I never taught him how to be a vampire.
"He's been my favorite since the moment I laid eyes on him. Even before I turned him, I knew that he would be special. And I still think he can be. But you're in the way, Caitlin."
"He's never going to give in, you know," Caitlin said. "You're never going to convince him to live the way you do."
"Don't be silly. Of course not! I'm not going to reason with him. I'm going to show him. I'm going let him know just how good it feels to let the animal out of its cage. And the key to that, Caitlin, is you.
"Right now, Michael is chained up in my dungeon." She smiled. "Yes, I have a dungeon. Cliché, I know, but useful. Regardless, Michael is chained, and he is struggling to free himself, so that he can come and rescue you. He was screaming your name when I left him.
"Pretty soon, he's going to be spent. And then the hunger will set in, clawing at his throat. But the nights will drag on and on, and his hunger will just keep growing. Pretty soon, it will drive him mad. Have you ever seen a starving dog, Caitlin? Seen how vicious they are? How they'll tear into anything that gets near them?
"Michael is going to be a starving dog. All of his sensitivity and morals and hangups are going to be stripped away, and nothing but the vampire will remain. And then ..."
Angelica looked at Caitlin, and all of the youth, innocence, and frivolity drained from her face, replaced with cold, calculating malice.
"Then, Caitlin, I will give him you."
Chapter Twenty Two
Indigo was hot and cramped and loud. Like always.
Just a few days ago, Alexis would have loved it. Funny how things change.
"I still think this is a dumb idea," Garret semi-shouted into her ear.
"Yeah? Well I think it's a dumb idea to leave Caitlin to die." Although that seemed to be the minority opinion. Alexis had talked to the police—the Chief again, actually—and she'd gotten the same story as when Bethany was taken. We're really, really sorry, but vampires are big and scary and mean, and there's just nothing we can do to help.
Useless bastards.
Garret flinched. Good. "Hey, it's not like that. You know I care about her. And Evan. But we're in over our heads here."
"So is Caitlin!" Alexis hissed. Then she elbowed him, maybe a bit harder than strictly necessary. "Shut up, there he is."
The vampire they'd been tracking had just walked into the room. He looked young, like eighteen or nineteen, but Alexis knew that didn't mean anything. Hell, he could be a hundred years old, for all she knew.
This one had a type. Every night this week, he'd found a girl about five feet tall and a hundred and nothing pounds to chat up, and some time around midnight, he'd left the club with her. They had never seen any of the girls again. Not at Indigo, and not on campus.
Alexis just hoped he went for dark-skinned girls.
"Am I slutty enough?" she asked. She was wearing the shortest skirt she could find, and black leather boots that reached up to her knees. The shirt was the selling point, though. It was light and clingy, and so thin that it was almost transparent. Hell, in the right light, it probably was transparent. You'd have to be blind not to notice that she wasn't wearing a bra underneath. The back was open, and the neck line plunged so low you could damn near see her belly button. If this outfit didn't scream "bite me," Alexis was going to have to rethink her place in life.
Garret looked at her like she had just asked him to take his cousin to the prom. "Yeah, I might do you right here."
Alexis gave him a dirty look. "Shut up and meet me out back."
Her heart pounded, and she started to feel dizzy as she walked across the floor. The damn hooker boots weren't helping her balance, either. But she kept breathing, and she kept walking. One foot in front of the other, sway the hips a little bit in case he turns to look ...
He was leaning against the bar, talking to three girls. Sorority sisters, from the look of them. Alexis walked past the vampire, and ran her fingers over his thigh, across his hip, up his torso, and across his chest. The vampire looked at her, one eyebrow raised. The sorority sisters made some snitty noise, but Alexis ignored them. She gave the vampire what she hoped was a sultry look, then ran her fingers back down his body. She hooked them inside his belt just long enough to tug him away from the bar, then walked away.
She glanced back after five steps, looked him up and down, and licked her lips.
Then she cut through the crowd as fast as she could, making her way to the fire door at the back of the dance floor. She pushed it open, and cold air assaulted her. She stepped outside and slammed the door, shivering but relieved to be out of the crowd.
Alexis glanced down. Damn it was cold out there. Well, maybe that would help entice him.
Okay. She had to stay in character. Mind in the moment and all that.
The vampire pushed the door open a second later. "There you are," he said. His voice was deeper than she expected.
Alexis leaned up against the opposite wall, and let her eyes linger over his body again. She picked up one foot and set it flat against the brick wall, and ran her fingers along the hem of her skirt, hiking it up just a bit. She tossed her head so that her hair hung over her shoulder, leaving her neck exposed. "Here I am," she said, trying to make her voice languid. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back, then tried to give him a come-hither look. "What are you going to do about it?"
The vampire pressed his body against her. Alexis had to fight the urge to push him away, or vomit, or both. Instead, she made a happy little murmuring noise.
"You gonna show me a good time?" She asked.
"Baby, the things I'm going to show you? You won't even believe."
His hands were all over her body. She felt like she was being smeared with slime. She could feel herself tensing, but forced herself to relax. She slipped a silver chain out of her back pocket, and stretched it between both hands. It was almost over.
"Your heart is pounding," he said. "I can feel it hammering inside your chest." He ran his fingers from her collar bone to her sternum, just in case she had forgotten where her chest was.
"I'm just excited," she whispered into his ear.
"That's okay," he said. "A fast heart makes it even better."
His eyes turned red, and he bent his face toward her neck, but Alexis wound the silver chain around his throat. His skin started to sizzle, and he backed up and made a gurgling sound, but she went after him, pushing the silver against him as hard as she could.
He fell over backwards, and Alexis followed him down, then straddled him. He was trying to reach the chain, but he couldn't make his hands move.
Headlights flared to life at the end of the alley, and Garret pulled the car up.
"Give me the knife," Alexis said. Garret handed her one of Michael's silver daggers.
Alexis looked the vampire in the eyes. He was confused, and ... scared.
Just like all the girls he'd killed must have been confused and scared.
Alexis slammed the dagger into his chest. His whole body convulsed, and another wet sputter came out of his mouth, but then he fell still. Smoke poured out of his wounds.
Garret looked like he was about to throw up.
"Help me get him into the car," Alexis said.
Garret looked around reluctantly, then grabbed the vampire under the arms and hauled him off the ground.
***
They drove to an abandoned gas station about two miles away, and parked in the back. They were far enough away from the main roads that Alexis didn't think anyone was going to drive by, and the lights were dim enough—a dull amber from street lights a block away—that even if they did, she didn't expect to be seen.
Unless the people driving by could see in the dark, of course.
But whatever. This had to be done, and done quickly.
"Help me get him out of the trunk," she said.
Garret's lips were pressed into a thin line, and his Adam's Apple kept bobbing up and down, but he climbed out of the car and opened the trunk anyway. The vampire was still in there, still paralyzed by the silver dagger. His injuries were still smoking, and some of the veins in his neck were starting to turn black.
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