by N Gray
Zachary opened the door without asking who had knocked. He wore low cut jeans with the button undone, and he was naked from the waist up. His brown hair fell loosely around his shoulders.
“Geez, did you guys bring the snow indoors with you?”
“Can we come in?” Sebastian said as he entered the apartment before Zachary could answer. We all followed him.
Zachary’s apartment was warm; a stark contrast to the cold hallway. There were two women sitting on the couch in their underwear. When they saw us, they didn’t budge from their seat. The four of us stood around while Zachary sat between the two ladies.
“So, what’s this all about, Sebastian? Does Léon know you’re banging on my door?”
“Where were you earlier, Zachary?”
“Here. Why?”
“Where is the guy with the white hair and white eyebrows?”
Zachary flinched, then went deadly still. He leaned back against the couch and put his arms around the ladies’ shoulders. His face adopted that blank look that told me he was thinking carefully about what to say next.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“He’s lying,” I said, stepping closer. I held the gun tightly in my hand until it hurt.
“I know, Blaire,” Sebastian said. “Girls, leave us.” He motioned for the women to move away so he could sit next to Zachary. They complied and went into one of the bedrooms. Sebastian sat down with one knee on the couch and faced Zachary.
What happened next was too quick for my slow human eyes to see. Sebastian had pulled out a knife and held it against Zachary’s neck. There was a spine-chilling darkness behind Sebastian’s alluring green eyes, and I was glad not to be in Zachary’s shoes.
“Have you been playing cards, vampire?” Sebastian said with an edge of a growl.
Zachary pressed his head further into the couch as Sebastian dug the knife deeper into his throat and drew blood. His muscular arm held the knife in place.
“Vampires are not allowed to play, Zachary. Gambling is illegal for your kind.”
“Okay, okay.” Zachary lifted his hands, palms facing us.
Sebastian lowered the knife. “Talk, or I will call Alex and Genevieve to make a ruling over your behavior.”
“Please don’t,” he said, his voice quivering slightly.
“Tell us about the man with the white hair.”
“You don’t want to know about him, Sebastian. The priest is bad news. Don’t mess with him.”
“We know, Zachary. But you seem to have helped him to hurt Blaire.”
“I didn’t know.” He glanced at me wide eyed. “I really didn’t know. I owed the guy money. He said we’d be square if I helped him get two guys to wear some weird armbands. One of them had to be a werewolf. It seemed harmless enough.”
Sebastian relaxed against the sofa. “You stupid shit.”
Again, Sebastian moved too fast for me to see. Blood poured from a knife wound an inch wide across Zachary’s throat. Gurgling sounds came from his mouth as red spittle drooled from his lips. Sebastian had changed the way he was holding the knife. The handle was completely in his hand, but he now pointed the blade away from the pinky finger of his left hand.
He thrust the blade into Zachary’s neck a second time.
Zachary was too slow to see it coming. The movement caught everyone off guard, and we all drew our guns and aimed them at Zachary and Sebastian.
“Where can we find this priest now?” Sebastian said.
Zachary blinked and, in-between coughing up blood, said hoarsely, “He should still be playing cards.”
“Take us there.”
“He will know something is wrong if I show up again.”
“Say you needed to fetch something.”
Zachary rose from the sofa. “Let me change my clothes.” His chest was drenched in blood, and his jeans were blotched dark red.
When Zachary returned to the living room, he must have fed on one of his guests because the neck wound had healed and his pale cheeks were pink. He had changed into a light blue shirt with a dark blue tie, black slacks, and black boots. His long brown hair was tied back in a tight ponytail.
We followed him out into the hallway.
Ice had already started to crystallize against the walls and from the ceiling. Zachary swore under his breath and walked at a brisk pace.
“Zachary, what is happening to the building?” I asked, trying to keep up with him.
“I don’t know,” he said, and he broke out into a jog.
We went up three flights of stairs because the elevator was out of service due to the ice. We stopped at the end of the hallway, at the only black door. The number 119 was written in brass lettering under the peephole. Zachary fumbled with a bunch of keys and eventually found the right one to open the door.
Inside the room was a large table with six men sitting around it. At the head of the table sat a female dealer. They were all busy with their current hand, and one man had called to see the cards of the others. The man was about to put down a straight flush—all hearts—when the ace changed into an eight of clubs. His fists hit the table with a loud thump, spilling all the drinks on its surface.
“You cheated, vampire! You changed my cards for the third time today.”
“Don’t blame me if you can’t play,” said the vampire sitting directly across from him, a sly smile on his face.
The man pulled out a gun and shot the other point-blank in the chest. The other players rose from their seats and stood as far away as they could without leaving.
“Mark!” Zachary yelled, pulling the man by his arm and disarming him. “Margaret, you were supposed to take all weapons away.”
A woman ran into the room from the hallway and bowed in front of Zachary. “Sorry.” Another bow. “Sorry.”
Zachary gave her the weapon, and she ran back from where she had appeared.
“Lukyan, I will ban you for life, old friend.”
Lukyan touched the hole in his shirt, stuck his finger in the wound, and licked the blood that coated his fingertip. “He’s been cheating all night. I had to stop him,” he said in a heavy Russian accent. He rose, all eight feet looming over the poker table. “Next”—he pointed a long finger at Mark—“I kill you.” He touched his shirt again. “You make hole.”
Mark stepped backward, almost into me. I touched his back, and he stopped.
“Enough. The game is over. It’s time for everyone to go, Margaret.” Zachary yelled for the small woman again.
The little woman returned and stood near him. She held one hand in the other in front of her, with her shoulders slumped and her chin pointing to the floor. It was an odd, submissive pose. Her straight black hair was tied in a swirly bun, and several loose strands framed her petite face. Her eyes had epicanthic folds, yet she had blue eyes and light olive skin; either her mother or father was from Asia, while the other was either Nordic or Western.
“Where is the priest?” Zachary asked.
Margaret looked up at him. “He left a few moments before you arrived, Zachary. Did you not pass him on your way here?” Her eyes flicked to the rest of us, one at a time.
“Did he play cards?”
“He did. But then”—she glanced at me, then back at Zachary—“it was like something distracted him. He excused himself, cashed his tokens, and left.”
“He must still be in the building, then,” I said.
But if that were true, why hadn’t we passed him? From what I could see, there was only one set of stairs and the elevator, which couldn’t be used due to the ice.
“Margaret, do you know why there’s ice outside in the hallways.” Zachary asked.
“What?” she said, and she opened the door. The room dropped in temperature and she slammed the door closed, rubbing her arms. “I don’t know what to say, Zachary. Strange things have been happening all day. First you disappear”—she pointed a short finger at him—“then the priest hears voices and leaves. And these tw
o bullies have been going at each other during every game.” Lukyan and Mark shrugged in unison.
“Are any of you wearing armbands?” I asked.
“No,” everyone said at the same time.
There was something strange happening: the building and its weird weather; the voodoo priest disappearing; the men fighting.
Sebastian started to say something, but either he had trouble with his voice or I couldn’t hear him. I glanced at the others.
It all happened slowly. Ralph and Sawyer started to fall to the floor, and then they were sleeping. I wanted to bend down to see if they were all right, but I couldn’t move my body in their direction. I frowned and then felt a tingling sensation on my face when I did.
As time lapsed, I glanced at Sebastian, but he, too, had slowly fallen to the ground.
Everything was painstakingly slow, and yet it somehow seemed to be going too fast for my mind to comprehend what was happening. I was the only one still standing; everyone else was lying on the floor. Their eyes were closed and they seemed to be sleeping, all except for Sebastian. He stared at me with wide eyes, immobile, and I could see how frustrated he was that he couldn’t talk to me. I wanted to go to him, but I was stuck; my whole body couldn’t move. Sebastian’s eyes flitted to the side; to something behind me.
Someone touched my shoulder from behind. I felt my eyes widen and then I was able to turn slowly and see who had touched me. The man had the weirdest color eyes; violet, like the flower. His short hair and eyebrows were as white as snow. His pale skin was smooth, like frosting. His full lips were a delicate pink.
When his hands touched my face, blackness and bright stars came.
Chapter 19
THERE WAS DARKNESS AND THE SMELL of freshly cleaned leather against my cheek. The left side of my face brushed against something soft and padded. My arms were bound above my head; I pulled on the restraints and the rope gave an inch. The dim light of the room revealed things hanging on the wall to my right: items such as chokers, a pair of handcuffs, a machete, and a single-tail bull whip. The room was familiar. I had seen it before with Ralph.
It was the priest’s pleasure room. The dark room with the black curtains. I pulled on the restraints again, and the rope gave way enough that I could come up on my elbows. I was on that torture horse that he had modified for pleasure. I glanced down and saw I still had all my clothes on. My legs were pulled apart, and each had been loosely bound to a leg of the horse. Out of the corner of my eye, something moved.
“I like you on my horse, Blaire. It’s been a while since I’ve had someone as beautiful as you lying on it like that.” I heard him lick his lips. “Your ass sticking out like that for me.”
Shit!
I looked over the far right of my shoulder in the general direction of the dark figure in the corner. McNielty, the voodoo priest, stepped forward so I could see him better. For the last four or five days, we had been trying to catch him and trying to avoid our own deaths in the process—but it was he who had been trying to catch us. Taunting us with his voodoo spells, and attacks. And, somehow, he had always been two steps ahead.
“What do you want from me?” My voice sounded hoarse.
I pulled gently on the restraints.
“To finish what I started,” he said, stepping closer to me.
“What does that mean?”
“You saw my lovely in the little room downstairs?”
“Yes. I also saw what you did to her?”
“It was not I who did it; it was those men.”
“All the men you killed?”
“No, I needed them. I needed their organs to keep her whole for a short while.”
“Then who are you talking about?” I asked, feeling my frown deepen.
He was close enough to touch me, and he did. With two fingers, he caressed my face, and I moved out of his touch.
“You are a tough spirit, Blaire. I like it. My Ophelia could use some of that.” His fingers trailed down my back, lingered as he caressed my ass, and swept down my right thigh. He made a guttural sound as he squeezed my thigh. I moved to try to get him off my body.
“Ophelia will be pleased with the body I’ve found for her. She would fit perfectly on my pleasure horse.”
The room started to shrink, and it got hot. My pulse was thundering in my ears, and I swallowed hard.
“What do you mean?” I said, and I felt my eyes widen.
“I have powerful spells over the dead, which I use to manipulate living souls and move them from an old body into the new. When we saw your bright light, we knew we had to have you. It put our plan into motion. Everything fell so easily into place.”
I must’ve still looked confused, so he continued. “I am going to put Ophelia’s soul into you. Her body was broken too badly by those men.”
“Who are these men you keep saying hurt Ophelia?”
I needed to keep him talking to give me enough time to think about my next move, and how I could get out of my restraints and away from him.
“The man with the golden ring and red ruby. He was the same man who kidnapped us all those years ago. He found Ophelia and performed horrific tests on her. When I rescued her, she was broken. You saw what they did to her body. They removed her tongue and cut off her ears. They were so brutal. They broke her body, and her mind was almost fractured. But we found a way to keep her mind with us until I could find the right body. Your body.”
“I thought you did that to her. You have all those body parts in jars. And that shrine?”
“Those weren’t her body parts. We merely acquired them to keep her alive, to keep her with us. The body parts you saw on the shrine are from a prostitute; she didn’t have long to live, anyway. The organs from the eight men fed our power and gave Ophelia enough energy to stay with us.”
“Why do you keep her chained up?” I asked. My plan was working: he was talking, but I still didn’t know how to get out of my current situation.
“To keep her safe.”
“Why take the private parts from the two men with the grey eyes?”
“It’s part of the ritual we needed to perform.”
“Why the attacks on me—on us? If all you wanted was me all along, why not just come and grab me?”
“We needed to test your strength to see what you were capable of doing. Your friend was just something for us to play with; he was sport. But when we couldn’t see your white light anymore, we knew something had changed. You had changed. We realized we needed you with us sooner, before something else within you shifted. So, I grabbed you when I could.”
His fingers were trailing my back again, soft as a feather, then he stopped and left the room.
Thank heavens! I didn’t want him to touch me again. I needed to get off this thing before he started his spell.
Sounds came from below—from the secret room where he kept Ophelia.
I pulled hard on the restraints, and they loosened enough for me to lean my body away from the pleasure horse. I wasn’t quite standing, but it was an improvement. The restraints on my legs were strapped with Velcro, and they looked worn out. With my right leg, I leaned into the strap with my whole body going as far to the right as I could, and I held onto the horse’s body. The Velcro started tearing apart. When I was free, I did the same on my left leg. With both legs free, I stepped off the horse and went to the other side where the rope bound my hands. Using my teeth, I pulled on the flap until it started to come loose.
The sounds from below stopped, then the footsteps grew louder.
My hands were free.
The steps were coming closer.
I grabbed the nearest thing off the wall, climbed back onto the horse, and leaned over it the way he had left me, holding onto the rope. My pulse thumped louder, and my clothing clung to my body. He was near.
“This is the body I promised you, Ophelia. This is my gift to you,” McNielty said as he came into the room with a woman encircled in his arms.
Dried blood trailed down
her chin. Her eyes were black and filled with tiny stars like the night sky. Her hair and face were dirty, and her dress was caked with dried blood. Fresh blood trailed down her legs.
“Why is she still bleeding?”
He looked at her. “It’s what they did to her. It won’t stop until she has a new host.”
With her restraints off, I could see that Ophelia had a gold armband on each wrist. McNielty must have noticed what I was staring at; he removed his jacket and showed his matching gold armbands.
“We were once King and Queen of the red land, a country that linked northeast Africa with the Middle East. We were gods once, Blaire.”
Interesting. That would mean he had been a Pharaoh in Egypt. Either he was telling the truth and could move from one body to another, or he was severely delusional. I wasn’t sure which was worse, but I would take delusional over powerful any day.
“Then if you can choose any body you want, why not choose someone of importance?”
His face blotched red. “Oh, but you are important, Blaire! We cannot display to the world what we can do. We are not vain. For us to stay alive all these years, we needed to live in the shadows. It’s best if our new bodies are of the mystical type. It makes the transition seamless.” He squeezed Ophelia’s arms, leaving purple bruises, and she moaned. “I’m sorry, my love.” He kissed her cheek gently.
Squeezing the handle in my left hand—hidden against the other side of the horse so they couldn’t see it—was comforting; I didn’t feel quite so vulnerable. It felt good to be armed, even if it was only a machete. My gun would have been better, but McNielty had removed it and hidden it somewhere.
“She is restless. We need to finish this now. The moon isn’t at its fullest, but tonight will have to do,” McNielty said, and they headed out the room.
I exhaled slowly, relaxed my grip on the handle, and pushed myself up. When I could hear that they were in the other room, I climbed off the horse. As quietly as I could, I grabbed the handcuffs off the wall, stuck the key in the front of my pocket, and hooked the cuffs in my jeans. I also took the single-tail bull whip and stuck the handle down my jeans to keep it in place.