Bait and Bleed

by Elizabeth Blake

  “You ruined my life.”

  “Don't be all melodramatic. I didn't ruin anything. I bought you time.”

  “What?”

  She wrapped a bandage around my stomach. “You took it well.”

  “I've had practice. Explain why I shouldn’t be mad at you.”

  “You know jack shit about vampires, so let me educate you. They don't bluff about violence. Ever. They never lie about their intentions when it comes to blood. At the rate he was bleeding you out, you had about a minute to live. After he killed you, Alexei would have done precisely as he said. He would have ordered raids on my cities and killed thousands of my children.”

  “You contaminated me,” I hissed.

  “And you need to get over it. We have more pressing matters.”

  “I'll never forgive you.”

  She didn't answer. Bitch. I hated her. Sure, she sacrificed my humanity for a chance at Alexei. She won time for our last stand, but I still wanted her dead.

  She pulled out a dusty blood bag and a needle thick enough to penetrate a rhino’s hide. I didn't like the look of it. “What's your plan?”

  “We need to get fluids in you. This is carpenter's blood. It's probably the best thing the vampires ever did.”

  “I don't want vampire blood in me! Are you insane?”

  “Relax. There's nothing innately vampiric in there. Consider it a superfood. I need you capable of moving by the time Alexei's guests arrive.” She jabbed the needle in me, perfectly placed but like a battering ram.

  “Ga!”

  “You're useless without a gun,” she said.

  “I'd be offended if it wasn't so accurate.”

  “Milan likes to travel with a posse of well-armed pretty boys. It's all for show, a habit he picked up during the regime change in North Korea. Usually the boys are chosen for looks and not their skill with firearms, creating the perfect scenario for you to get your hands on a weapon. I'll fight whatever mutt Milan's favoring this month, and Alexei will be in good spirits if I win. He'll be in a hurry to get blood-drunk and consume his prize, which would be a great time for you to do your Rambo-bit and eliminate as many as you can.”

  “If you win? You're possibly the biggest mutt I've seen!”

  “I'm sitting on the side-effects of a dozen tranquilizers, plus I've had silver in contact with my bloodstream for days. I haven't eaten. Not to mention, you keep hitting me. It is entirely possible I'll lose.”

  “What happens if you lose?”

  “The objective remains the same: kill Alexei. If I can't, you must. The only alteration to our plan, if at all possible, is to warn Peter of an eminent raid.”

  “Right. And how do we get out? Are you familiar with this place?”

  “Kaidlyn, we probably won't be getting out. We need to end Alexei before he kills a lot of people we love. Davey spent the night with my wolves, remember? If my children get raided, yours does too.”

  Nothing like the grim truth.

  Being dead didn't sound like such a bad thing. I was awfully fascinated by the multiple tones to her hair. A slip of grey at the temples, the whimsical mark of age. She was immortal, and yet I could see the soft peachy fuzz on her arms, the flutter of her lashes. Kissing Svetlana seemed like a pleasant way to pass the next few moments. My limbs and fingers tingled.

  Jesus Christ, I was high. “What the hell is in this?”

  “It will accelerate your healing and help your wounds scab by the time the show starts. Try not to bleed until after Alexei is dead, or he'll call your blood and you'll be dead in minutes.”

  Right: the vamp had wicked powers, and his guests would have a few tricks up their sleeves. God-plagues, as Sigurd had called them. I didn't believe in gods, but now I had to fight some. Svetlana and I were not leaving Alexei's pit of games alive.

  “How do we stop him from using his powers?” I said. “A cross, holy water?”

  “Those don't do crap, sweetie. Useless folklore. I've heard the right combination of chemistry and will can resist vamp glamor.”

  “You've heard?”

  “I have reason to believe it’s true.”

  “What can we count on?” I said. She sighed and ran her hand through her hair, picking at clumps of blood. She didn’t answer. I changed the subject, rummaging through the case. “What kind of first aid kit doesn't have any sharp objects in it? Life sucks sometimes. And this stuff makes my skin itch.”

  She picked up my left hand and examined the cuts on my fingers. The marks scabbed over, inflamed at the edges. I couldn't make a tight fist, but my fingers functioned. Carpenter's blood was amazing! Or did the healing result from something worse? I swallowed, my throat dry and hoarse. “I have lycanthropy, don't I?”

  “All I can smell is the silver around my neck and Carpenter's blood. Given all the strains you’ve been introduced to, you have a weird immunity. I don’t know. Maybe. Either way, don't count on shedding to help us. You know I had to do it, right?”

  “We'll discuss that when we're done with this.” I didn't want to argue again because I was scared. Not simply about her fight with the mystery mutt or Alexei's divine metaphysics. When she didn’t meet my eyes, I discovered what scared me the most: she didn’t think we’d make it.

  I snatched her hand. The skin was tight, feverish. She was sickly and silver-bound but determined. I had never met a person as stubborn and confident. She couldn't lose. No way.

  Another frightful thought, the one making it hard for me to breathe, was unrelated. “What if Alexei already give the order to move against the kennels? What if our kids are already dead?”

  “He hasn't. Alexei wouldn't waste his only bargaining chip on a mutt fight and sacrifice future hopes of blackmail. He's more economical. This is not his big plan, this is a test.” She was so sure, her face soothing and calm. Perfect poker face, one I couldn't get past.

  I leaned back and propped myself against the wall. Each time I blinked, the comfortable darkness grew more appealing. It swelled, warm and cozy. Inviting. Nonjudgmental. I could sigh into a long comfortable rest. Svetlana slapped me; I had dozed off.

  “Is it time?” I said.

  “Almost.”

  “How long can you stall?”

  “Not very. Alexei has seen me kill before. He knows I don't play around when the work needs to be done, and he'll be angry if I lead him on. And I do not think I have the stamina to drag out a fight to the death.” The skin around her neck flushed deep red. Streaks of poison spread inside her flesh. The silver worked away at her, weakening her defenses, sickening her wolf. She handed me a wad of black clothing.

  “A dress?”

  “A cassock to cover your nakedness,” she said. “Milan doesn't like women, and Alexei won’t offend him until the wager is won. Vampires are explosive creatures, Kaidlyn, so don’t instigate anything until after the fight. I apologize in advance. If I lose, I mean. I’m sorry.”

  “Honestly, what are the odds?”

  “Have a little faith.” She crossed herself and winked. The red streaks from her throat reached down through her breasts, staining her with scarlet ribbons.

  Silver poisoning.

  We would fight anyway, despite—or because of—the likelihood that we were doomed. “How big is Milan's posse of armed models?”

  “Anywhere from three to twelve. Kaidlyn, expect that some are Lazarites.”

  “The hell is that?”

  “Lesser vampires. Um, assembly line model? Strong, hard to kill, not as tough as Alexei’s ilk. The Exalted like him keep the company of Lazarites, but it’s a convoluted class system. When Alexei mentioned an entourage, it could be entirely made up of vampires, and he wouldn’t think to anything of it.”

  “Bastard couldn't have one human boyfriend, he needs a posse of blood-suckers? When will they be here?”

  “They already are. Alexei said the fight starts soon, which could mean five minutes or five days.”

  “I prefer the five-day time frame.”

  She s
miled. “Don't suppose you can play the distressed damsel?”

  I sighed, exasperated. “Am I supposed to charm a bunch of gay men?”

  “Being stuck with a gay vamp doesn't make a vassal gay.”

  “A what?”

  “Are you scared?”

  “Of course.” I felt dumb because she asked, dumber because I told the truth.

  Svetlana froze, and her eyes hazed. Her nostrils flared. A bad premonition smacked into me as she focused her wolf senses. Stress tightened her mouth.

  “What?” I whispered.

  “We know this mutt,” she said. My stomach turned. I thought, please, not Peter, not Erik, not Marc, not any of them, please-please-please. Then the door opened and the parade commenced.

  My brilliant powers of deduction led me to believe the naked male was a mutt while the man in a lemon colored suit was Milan. The mutt proved massive: not tall like Peter or too muscular like Erik. His black body was thick and rotund, but it couldn't be mistaken for fat. He was a linebacker, a barrel, an unstoppable object. His thighs were redwood trunks, his arms like beer kegs. His skin shone with an oil that glowed from his bald head to his stout ankles. A slather of chest hair led south and displayed other impressive features.

  His size alone didn't bother me. His walk was worse. He didn't waddle or lumber but moved with a languid stroll of lethal confidence. He could take on the Phoenix Cardinal's entire defensive line before breakfast. I had never seen him before. Who the heck was this guy?

  “Iago,” Svetlana said.

  Anger detonated. This was the bastard who terrorized mutts and left Clifford for dead on my doorstep. The evil cunt knew where I lived. He sent people to kill me. Twice. He threatened Davey. Twice. I wanted to pull out my IV and stab him in the eye with the needle.

  Tonight's agenda: kill Alexei for Svetlana, kill Iago for Davey and Clifford, and then kill everyone else for myself. No small task.

  “Svetlana.” Iago’s eyes roamed over her nakedness, making slow business of his inventory. He was barking up the wrong tree. Svetlana embraced her nakedness. She didn’t need another person to confirm her strength and beauty. He couldn’t rattle her with cheap tricks. God, I loved her. He wagged his dick. She didn't respond.

  The vampire, Milan, was not a pretty creature. His forehead and chin overwhelmed his face. With his short frame and inanimate eyes, he resembled a well-dressed garden gnome. The posse of gorgeous gunmen were armed. Most were dangerously thin with dull eyes. Disinterested. They smelled vaguely of opium. Others, thicker ones with muscle on their frames, appeared more organic. Tactile. Maybe human? Overall, twelve others accompanied Milan, three of whom were armed with shoulder rigs, leaving their jackets unbuttoned. The other boys wore clothes too tight or too scant to hide weapons without involving lubricant. Servants brought ornate chairs.

  Three bodyguards stood behind Milan's chair, a blond, a brunette, and a redhead. They weren't siblings, but their facial features were similar, like Milan accessorized their bone structure. The redhead in the middle was all business; his stance left him light on his feet and quick to kill. Mean eyes. Note to self: kill him first. The blond was next. Despite a mild limp, his lithe body and alert hands spelled trouble.

  I loitered on the floor, ignored by all until Svetlana snapped, “Get out,” and I realized I reclined in the circle where they'd be fighting.

  Scowling and moving extremely slow, I hitched off the ground. Black stars danced around me. I staggered, woozy and injured, and edged behind the crowd, falling into line beside the blond guard with the limp. He carried black circles under his eyes. I rested my hands on my knees, trying not to puke again. I didn't want to open the scabs on my chest, but my breath might tear through my meat and leave my heart buck-naked.

  “Are you okay?” He reached for my elbow. A bodyguard should never take his eyes off his charge. I nodded, delighted because what he'd done was unprofessional. It also meant he could be distracted by boobies. He stood close, weighing only about eighty kilos, gun pressing against his formal wear. Tempting to have a gun nearby, hard not to take it. Patience was not my strong suit.

  He waited for me to speak, eyes oddly glued to mine.

  “Come here often?” I said.

  His brow puckered as gave me the look I deserved. So much for being a flirt. His hands were long, hard, and linear to perfection. Trim beard, blue eyes, handsome. Humane. He shouldn't be here. Point of fact, he looked familiar. Or maybe I was out of it.

  I stared at the audience. A dozen…things. One glance at their eyes revealed more vampires than I anticipated. The chill in my spine verified the abundance of predators. Jesus. Svetlana had her work cut out for her, but I faced a hoard of carnivores with no moral objections to making a meal out of me.

  Milan said, “Will she fight with the silver on her neck? My dog shouldn't have to bite through poison when he kills her.”

  “Is he so lazy?” Alexei said. The vamps stared at each other for a full two minutes, during which time I wondered if they fell asleep and I should make for the door. Alexei lifted a key from his pocket. He unlocked Svetlana's collar, made a grand show of removing it, and displaying the red, raw mess of her throat. I winced at the sight of the molten streaks, the oozing dark blood and gangrene edges. She ignored him and studied Iago with a singularity that scared me.

  Her chest inflated with breath and life. Despite the circumstances, I had never seen her so alive. Feral. Magnificent.

  She can totally win.

  Then he shed.

  Iago's mutt broke out, catapulting through the shell of a man to become his beast. Grizzly brown fur with black accents along his spine, fluffy and fearsome, as massive as a furry rhino. “Kee-rist,” I said under my breath. Knowing what the bastard was capable of and seeing his bulk tempted me to call in an air strike.

  His cannonball paws scraped the brick as he paraded in front of her, showing off. She didn't look impressed. He roared. The primal sound grabbed my spine and shook me. Svetlana didn't shed. She stood, naked and womanly, like little Miss Riding Hood facing the big bad wolf on steroids. What was she still doing in her skin? Did the silver repress her ability to shed? I reconsidered our odds of success, which were slim enough already, and I was tempted to start my Rambo-thing right then and there.

  Iago growled like a jet plane singing bass. He gave her plenty of time to respond. She didn't, and his patience ran out. I barely saw the spring before he was airborne, launched at Svetka. A world of doom and claws came at her.

  She stood, complacent, so small in her human skin.

  Fuck.

  The instant before he landed, she took two strides and slid on her hip like she was going for a home run. She avoided impact with his colossal body. Her form disappeared beneath his brown barrel of a belly. He reached for her, teeth snapping, but she was too small. She slipped inside his stance, rocketing between his guard, playing his size against him.

  She shed claws first, digging into the meat of his underbelly. Blood splashed her as razor talons cut deep. Her beast rolled through her bones, doubling her size in an instant. She buried her forearms in his navel before her wolf finished emerging. Iago thrashed above her. He bled on her tawny fur, roaring and rolling, trying to evade her. She shimmied up and stayed with him. Let him know she wasn’t to be trifled with. This wasn’t a game. It wasn’t sport. She had no intention of contending for a championship belt. She wounded him deep before he realized she wasn’t all pretty for show. She went for blood, and she got it. Every time.

  She dug into the side of his throat, close to important arteries.

  They clamored for each other's necks, massive teeth tearing deep to catch the good stuff.

  I’d seen murder, mutt rampages, and general bloodshed. Child’s play.

  This was feral nature at its fiercest simplicity.

  Their sounds became unbearable, a demonic howling and growling that made a person realize how vulnerable flesh was. Mortal. Frail. Helpless. Their snarling made my bones ache. Beside
me, the blond clenched his fists and set his teeth as if he storming into battle.

  Bite for bite I'd call it a draw, but Svetlana's teeth were seriously sharp and Iago was much larger. Could go either way. If Iago killed Svetlana, I wasn't optimistic about my chances of killing the spectators.

  In the arena, they spun and pursued each other's necks and faces with their teeth. Shoving into each other, angling for superior position. She kept her bite on his neck even as he went for hers.

  Iago landed his bite over her spine and shook her. Flesh tore from her spine, revealing nubs of bone. She sailed. Her body smacked cement. The impact rang through the arena like a gong. For an instant, she didn’t move. My heart sank. He landed atop her, and her hind legs flopped like dead weight. He snarled and opened his maw. Gigantic teeth lashed at her flesh. Her hind paws scratched at the dirt, trying to get up while her opponent stood above.

  Iago had good leverage and teeth stuck on her shoulder. He tore up the flesh, ripped the skin, and revealed muscle. The sound of tearing flesh filled the room. She snarled, screamed. He shook his head, jerking her, revealing his superior size. For a moment, all four of her feet scraped the air. Helpless. Little. Over-muscled. Outdone. I contemplated my options, realizing she might not make it. He’d kill her, eat her, and what next?

  I’d be alone against the monsters.

  My body tingled. My lungs pounded hot air.

  She chewed into his armpit, found a vein.

  He bled. And bled. And bled.

  Despite the loss of blood and flesh, she shouldered into him and slammed his bulk against the wall hard enough to shake bricks lose. His grip jolted off her shoulder and he resumed his hunt for her throat. She lunged down, her huge jaws catching his foreleg near his foot. She set her bite, shouldered into him, and swung her head.

  Bone cracked. He yelped. She dove for the other limb, chewing his legs out from under him. He couldn't support his weight on his forelegs, and he reared back, open and exposed. She took his throat, digging deep and catching the tubes, cutting his air, opening the artery.

  He flailed and gargled, kicking at her, but she dug deeper in his neck and hung on. She dragged him a few paces across the floor, her impressive body heaving his mass and surprising us all. Not a breath sounded in the arena as we watched her wolf decimate his throat. It wasn't long before he stopped struggling. I heaved a sigh of relief.