Blood Doll (9 page)

Then she picked up a familiar scent—one she would know across dimensions.
Sarah.

“Quit dawdling in the hallway!” someone called out, the same voice, she realized, that had issued the laugh only moments before.

“She heard us,” Christian whispered. “Remember, keep your head down and play blank.” Lana nodded, casting her cloudy gaze to the floor and allowed him to lead her to the door. He lifted his hand and knocked three times before pushing the door open and stepping inside. Before she could enter, he pushed the door closed behind him.

“Xanthe,” she heard him say through the door. She could hear the disgust in his voice. “I come with a present.”

“A gift…for me? Oh, Christian, you really shouldn’t have.” The woman’s voice was a bit husky, almost masculine. Now that she was alone, Lana ripped the contacts from her eyes, squinting at the sudden brightness, even in the darkened hallway. She wanted to get a better look at her surroundings because if this went south, she would be at a great disadvantage.

“A token of my affection,” Christian replied.

“Really,” Xanthe’s voice went flat and hard. “You shouldn’t have.”

“But I did,” he said, rising. “I believe you know why I am here.” Lana crossed the hallway to try the door there. The scent was stronger here. From the other side of the door, she could hear frantic, desperate breathing. But the door was locked, and downstairs she could still hear the faint throb of music.

“You must be after that little scab whore.” Lana paused to listen. For the other woman’s sake, she hoped she hadn’t just referred to Sarah as a whore.

“Her name,” Christian snapped, “is Sarah. And I want her.”

“Why her? Don’t tell me you have feelings for her.”

“She is my friend, Xanthe.”

Xanthe groaned. “Your sentimentality is disgusting.”

“Not all of us can be warrior bitches like you.”

The sound of muffled footsteps crossed the room on the other side of the door. Lana clutched at the doorknob, willing herself to stay still. Just as she found the strength to release the cold, metal knob, big hands closed around her arms and propelled her through it.

“Found this creeping in the hallway, Xanthe.” She recognized the voice as belonging to the watcher, Garret, from downstairs. He tossed her into the room, sending her sprawling on the floor at Xanthe’s feet. Across the room, she heard Christian’s deep intake of breath.

“So this is my gift?” Xanthe asked, the toe of her booted foot coming up under Lana’s chin. Lana closed her eyes as the foot lifted her face. Christian remained stubbornly silent. “What have you done to it? The makeup is ruined!”

“Scab,” he muttered. “She got a bit carried away.”

Lana told herself this was all a show, but part of her still refused to believe that he had told her the truth. She couldn’t help but feel as if she’d been used.

“It looks familiar,” the other woman said. She sniffed at the air. “It doesn’t smell like a scab.” He tone turned accusatory. “It smells like sex.”

“She
is
my scab,” Christian said. “It’s only fair, isn’t it?”

Lana cracked her eyes and squinted up at her new captor. The woman was not looking at her, luckily, but she was very tall and very masculine. Her face was one of severe angles and her black hair was pulled back into a tight knot at the back of her head. The sneer on her face would have made human blood run cold.

“I would expect you to bring me an unused gift, Christian. I could have sworn I trained you better.”

“She’s a blood doll, Xanthe,” he said. Lana could clearly hear the impatience in his voice. The charade was wearing thin. “If she’s used, then you know that she’s good enough for you. After all, doesn’t royalty always keep a food tester around?” She paused to consider his point.

“Smarter than I thought,” she finally said. The tall vampire dropped her foot, sending Lana sprawling to her hands and knees, and crossed the room. “You can leave now. I shall care for her.”

“Perhaps…” he started, but was cut off by her immediate snarl.

“Perhaps nothing. When you bring me a gift, do not expect me to return it.”

Oh shit…

It was then that Lana realized that their plan had gone wrong. If they were separated, Xanthe would surely kill her… not to mention have Christian drawn and quartered for the ruse.

While Christian kept Xanthe’s attention, Lana rose to her feet and pulled the mask from her face. It was now or never.

“I am not a gift,” Lana said, her voice strong and clear in the quiet room. “I am here for my sister. I can smell her up here. Where is she?” Xanthe turned, and was across the room in half a breath with her hand clasped tightly around Lana’s throat.

“What the hell is this?” she said, her lip curling into a snarl as she leaned close to Lana’s face. “She’s no scab, you liar…”

“No, she isn’t,” Christian said, and a moment later, Xanthe flew backward across the room, his arms outstretched from where he’d thrown her, “but she is mine. Keep your filthy hands off of her, you selfish bitch.”

Xanthe rose from the floor, brushing fallen strands of her hair back as she laughed. “Oh you poor fool,” she said through her laughter. “You and your little pet are no match for me.” She turned and disappeared through the door.

“Fucking Amazons…”

“Amazons?”

“Yes, Amazon… she’s an ancient Greek warrior.”

“I thought you said she wasn’t that old.”

“She isn’t an elder… but she’s pretty damn old.” Christian sighed and turned to Lana. “Are you all right?”

“Where did she go?”

“Likely to Sarah.”

“Then we need to follow her.”

Not waiting for his response, Lana stalked out the door and into the hallway. The door across the hall stood open, and the room was empty. She stood for a moment, considering her options, when she picked that familiar scent again.

“Sarah…”

Following the scent and ignoring Christian’s pleas for her to stop running, Lana bolted down the hall, taking the stairs three at a time until she burst onto the now eerily silent dance floor. They eyes of the addicts and scabs alike were turned toward the stage where Xanthe stood, Sarah’s limp body clutched in her raised hand. Lana’s unfortunate twin dangled from the vampire’s hand, her face turning blue from lack of air. Lana started to run again when Christian’s hand closed around her arm and jerked her back into the darkened hallway.

“If you go up there,” he whispered in her ear, his voice little more than a venomous hiss, “she will tear your head off.”

“She’s going to kill Sarah,” Lana replied, trying to jerk her arm away. Christian held firm.

“Not yet. It isn’t midnight.” He closed his hand around her waist and pulled her back. “Sarah has time.”

“You’re waiting for Harlan, aren’t you?”

Christian never answered.

Chapter Ten

The accusation in her voice cut him to the bone. Yes, he was waiting for Harlan. There was no way the pair of them could reasonably take on Xanthe and her club full of monstrous creations. They had ten minutes…if he could only hold out a moment longer…

Xanthe wouldn’t kill Sarah right away. She never did anything in a hurry, particularly when it meant she could enjoy a human’s suffering. If he hadn’t been on the inside before meeting Lana, it never would have occurred to him that any of this was wrong. Human sacrifice seemed a fitting end to the night of Samhain… to the feast of saints and souls.

“Christian…” Lana murmured, every muscle in her body strung tight. The tension radiated from her.

“Four minutes before we go,” he whispered back. “It’s a ritual. She won’t break tradition just to get at you.”

“But she will kill her.” A statement, not a question.

“Yes.”

For a moment she went limp in his arms, then in the same breath she was gone, streaking across the club. Christian could do nothing except watch in petrified amazement. She moved so fast, so clean, that none of the attending vampires noticed. The watchers did not move from their posts, and Xanthe’s crew of helpers stood back unnoticed until their leader found herself sprawled on the floor, her intended victim gone.

Christian vaguely heard Xanthe’s angry screech as Lana flew past him, her snarling sister clutched in her arms. He turned and followed her, and finding themselves cut off from the door by the newly positioned watchers, he followed her as she turned down a darkened hallway and continued to run. It led to a fire door—one that was welded closed. Even their combined strength couldn’t break through the weld.

Deep, booming laughter filled the hallway.

“Well, Christian…I bet you feel like a fool now.”

“Garrett…” Christian turned to face the large vampire. “Are you going to continue to be Xanthe’s stoolie for the rest of your existence?”

“Better to be the bitch’s lapdog than her dinner,” the large, dark-skinned man said with a chuckle. “You know she’s going to kill you.”

“Oh now I doubt that… she does enjoy torturing me too much.” Behind him, Lana struggled with her yowling, snarling sister. The scuffle sounded violent, but Christian dared not turn his back on the big man in front of him. “You’d best run back to her before it turns ugly for you.”

“Christian…” Lana grunted. He took three steps back to stand beside her, and reached out one hand to stroke Sarah’s hair. The girl stilled under his fingers, purring as she turned her nose toward his wrist and sniffed.

“Easy, girl,” he cooed, continuing to stroke her hair yet keeping his wrist carefully out of her reach. He glanced quickly at Lana, who stared back at him with a look of pure fright. In this moment, he really wished that telepathy was in his arsenal of powers. To be able to talk to Lana without Garrett hearing would be an amazing thing. If he could just tell her what he was doing, this would be so much easier.

But again, he was no sparkly little vamp bitch.

“That’s right,” Garrett said, taking a step forward, “keep her quiet while I kill all of you.”

“Come and get me, bitch,” Christian snarled, and launched himself at the bigger vampire. They met in midair, arms tangling as they began to struggle. Garrett hit the floor, and Christian landed atop him, hands around the watcher’s throat. In Lana’s arms, Sarah began to struggle, turning and reaching for her sister. The small lapse in his attention allowed Garrett to throw him against the wall, knocking the wind from his lungs. Garrett pounced, hands closing around his throat, and Christian felt the muscles in his shoulders begin to pull.

“Gotcha, bitch,” the bigger vampire snorted. This time it was Lana that let out the ear-piercing shriek, which gave Christian just enough space to plant his knees against the watcher’s groin and shove him backward.

“Lana, throw her!”

“What?” she cried out, prying her sister’s hands from her dress.

“Throw her this way!” He caught the winded Garrett by the shoulders, jerking his arms into a pinned position. Lana did as he instructed, shoving Sarah away. As Christian predicted, she turned as she stumbled, her fingers latching onto and tearing into the fabric of Garrett’s shirt. She sank her flat, human teeth into his muscular chest, gnawing at his flesh in a sick, tearing motion. She made a satisfied, gurgling noise and began to suck at the fresh wound. Blood spurted into the air around her seeking lips, and with each new draw of her mouth on his skin, the watcher let out a pained grunt. He flailed and slapped at Sarah, but in her bloodlust she was overcome with madness. Nothing the wounded vampire did would dislodge her.

A moment before her booted foot connected with the back of his head, Christian sensed Xanthe’s presence behind him. Pain blossomed at the base of his skull a fraction of a second before his face crashed into the cinder block wall. As he stumbled around, cradling his ruined face, Christian watched through one bloodstained eye as Lana launched herself at the Amazon vampiress, screaming in anger.

She immediately went flying across the narrow hallway, hitting the opposite wall with a bone-shattering crunch and sprawled to the floor in a daze. On the floor near the far wall, Garrett lay on the floor, screaming as Sarah held him captive, draining the blood from his body through the ragged wound in his chest.

Xanthe laughed.

“Did you honestly think you could take her from me?” she said, clicking her tongue as she shook her head. “I so hoped you were smarter than that, Christian.” Her booted heels clicked across the old, concrete floor and she lifted him from the corner by the shirt. Holding Christian over her head, she laughed again. “Imbecile… never pick a fight with a warrior.” Before he registered that he was flying through the air, he landed shoulder down on the hard floor. Scabs and addicts alike cleared a path, then closed in around him, their glazed, hungry gazes focusing on him as they came closer.

He had the hysterical thought that now he knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of a zombie attack. Despite the seriousness of the situation—and the fact that the fall shattered his shoulder blade—desperate laughter bubbled up his throat. The burn in his shoulder intensified, yet he still struggled to his feet. Over the moans of bloodlust, he could still hear Xanthe’s laughter. Greedy hands reached for him, tangling in his cape and clothes, pulling him in various directions. The muscles of his shoulder screamed in agony as he swung with his good hand, fist connecting with various bits of human flesh and sending the mindless monsters sailing backward. Still, as one disappeared another took its place, all desperate for his blood.

“Christian!” Lana screamed, but the sound was cut off with a strangled cry. Taking a shaky step forward, then another, Christian pushed his way through the crowd of scabs, narrowly missing chomping teeth as he knocked one after another back. As he broke through, he caught a glimpse of Lana, held tightly in place by two watchers. He pushed the last kid out of the way just in time to watch Xanthe sink her teeth into Lana’s wrist, but the sound of her wail was lost beneath another noise—an unfamiliar one—that filled the air, stilling all movement. Even Xanthe lifted her bloodstained mouth and looked back at the far wall.

A moment later, blinding brightness filled the room, and Christian, like the rest of the population of the building, collapsed to his knees as a burning feeling came over him. From the fire licking across his skin, it felt as though someone had thrown the doors open wide on the midday sun.