Blood Lily (Lilith Adams Vampire Series Book 1) (45 page)

Gregor was tied to a cylindrical column in the middle of the room. He was on the opposite side, so she couldn’t see much of him. His head was craned to the side, giving her a profile of his face. He hadn’t looked like he was in tremendous pain and the lack of blood curdling screams seemed to support the fact that he was so in decent shape so far.

Ashcroft was hovering over a tray of instruments, drumming his fingers against each other in sadistic glee. He’d looked like some demented child with a coloring book, trying to decide which color to use first. The shadow on the wall moved again and she figured it had to be Ashcroft pacing the floor. He was anxious. He wanted to
start what he’d waited 600 years for, but in order to do that he needed one last thing. Her.

Then the monster spoke and it sent chills down her spine, stealing her breath.
“My, my, my. We have a guest.” Dread seized her heart, making her stomach churn. She was being so careful. He couldn’t know she was here, could he? He could move faster than a 9mm bullet so what made her think that she could actually sneak up on him. Dammit.

Lilith very carefully peeked around the corner again. She saw Ashcroft’s profile farther in the room, standing over Alvarez.
In one swift motion, he bent down and snatched Alvarez by the back. Ashcroft pulled him into a kneeling position as he started to regain consciousness. His dark eyes were rolling around, struggling to open as his knees quickly tried to support his weight. Ashcroft dug his nails into what was left of Alvarez’s hair, pulling a sharp squeak of pain from the detective. Lilith squeezed a tear from her eye, but she didn’t make a sound, didn’t move, didn’t dare even breathe.

“Come out or I’ll slice through the
Spaniard’s windpipe and sever his spine.” Ashcroft’s voice was cold and deadly serious. The long knife glinted against Alvarez’s throat. If she went out there now, they would all die. Sacrificing herself wouldn’t save him. It wouldn’t get him back to Gloria and the kids. They’d all suffer until Ashcroft was done with them and then he’d toss them on the floor, just like his son did with Mary 600 years ago. Still, she couldn’t just stand here and watch him die either. Fuck. Ashcroft knew every weakness to exploit. He was holding all the cards and he damn well knew it.

Chapter 23

L
ilith was still struggling with her internal battle when shuffling footsteps caught her attention. Farther back in the left corner of the room were deeper shadows.  She thought it was just the back of the room, obscured by pipes and spigots, but the sound was coming from that direction and it sounded farther away than the dimensions of the room would account for. It had to be another hall way. All she could think of was Chance, but he was far too injured even for the shuffling gait of whoever was hobbling closer. Besides, if he was going to chase after her, he wouldn’t have gone all the way around the building to do it.

Cohen’s
short blonde hair and almost handsome face emerged into the light, looking a little worse for wear. His right eye was one massive welt that would turn into a hideous bruise covering half his face. He was limping, favoring his left leg and cradling his right wrist. She didn’t see any blood so they couldn’t be bullet wounds. It looked like it had been one hell of a fist fight with some pretty big fists…

“Ah! The demon!” There was a childlike glee to Ashcroft’s voice that terrified her even more. It completely derailed her train of thought about Cohen’s injuries. Lilith lowered herself down, crouching against the corner, making herself as small as possible. He dropped Alvarez to the ground like a sack of potatoes and stepped over him, stretching his arms like he was greeting an old friend. She watched her partner carefully, but he wasn’t moving and his eyes were closed again. Hopefully, he was just unconscious and not dead.

“My, my, you do look a little worse for wear.” Ashcroft’s thin head tilted to the side and Lilith was glad she couldn’t see his expression.
His finger curled over his pointed chin as he stood and considered Cohen as a socialite would consider modern art. “No matter. I have a feeling you’ll be feeling better very soon. Now where is your partner, little demon?” He had to be talking about Whitmore.

The squat, aging detective stumbled into view behind Cohen, a gun clutched in one hand trained on his partner’s back and the other gripping the back of his neck. Whitmore’s face was a jumble of confusion, anger and pain. “Fuckin’ prick hit me in the back of the head. I still could have handled it on my own. You didn’t have to send your damn gorilla
.” His face wrinkled in disgust as he shoved the barrel of his gun into Cohen’s back, pushing him forward. Cohen stumbled and whimpered in pain as his leg folded and he fell to the concrete floor.

“Your bigotry is your downfall. You can’t see the value in a tool simply because of its color.” Ashcroft’s chiding words just seemed odd. A man who took pleasure in slicing a person into an unrecognizable mass of meat was actually lecturing Whitmore on the limitations of having a racist point of view.

“Yeah.” Whitmore rolled his eyes and holstered his gun. “Whatever you say. Cohen is here, as requested. That bitch forensic detective and her fiancée bodyguard are here, too, but Cohen insisted we all split up. They went with Humphries.”

Ashcroft’s head snapped up and his voice lost all the bored indulgence. “They are to be wed?” Somehow that one fact was vitally important to him, but why?

Whitmore looked completely confused. “You mean married? Uh, yeah. That’s what they said, that they were engaged.”

At that moment, “Ashcroft’s gorilla” shuffled into the light of the room and Lilith’s heart just sank. Could this get any worse? Security Officer Coffee’s huge seven foot plus frame loomed in the room. He had to stoop down just to fit through the low doorway.
The light from the scattered lanterns around the room glinted off his dark skin like warm moonlight on a black lake. Ashcroft must have used his mind tricks on him to replace Spencer as his muscle. It was a hell of a lot more muscle. That explained the enormous bruise on Cohen’s face. He looked like he’d been jumped by an entire gang of flunkies. In reality, it was probably just a single hit from Coffee’s massive fist.

“Coffee.
Go upstairs, search the whole building. I want Lilith and her beloved. He is no longer a useless threat. He will be quite…useful as it turns out.” The manic glee in his voice set her teeth on edge. Lilith’s hands tightened around the gun in her hands, the panic making her heart race in her chest.

The dark mountain of a man nodded silently, turned and stalked back down the dark corridor. He was going to find Chance. She wanted to race upstairs, stop him, protect him, something, but the simple fact was that Coffee wasn’t going to kill him.
Ashcroft wanted him alive now. She couldn’t even risk texting Chance a heads up, not from here. The light from her screen wouldn’t be missed. She had to hope that Chance would either kill Coffee or distract him long enough for her to make her move down here. Whatever the hell that was. She still had no clue what she was going to do

“You’re sending that steroid-taking monkey to do more dirty work? Guess that’s your business. Just give me what you promised and I’ll go. You can order your damn nigger around however you damn well please.
” Whitmore rubbed at the back of his neck again, moving his head from side to side and wincing with the strain.

Ashcroft was standing in the center of the room one second and then suddenly he was right in front of the balding detective
the next. “You think I would give you power? You’re nothing but a lowly peasant that’s outlasted his usefulness. You are an ignorant, insignificant little bug and I can no longer stand the sight of you.” There was a blur of motion and then Whitmore’s knees hit the ground. When Ashcroft moved, she saw the blood pouring down Whitmore’s shirt and tie. He clutched his neck, eyes wide in shock as he desperately tried to breathe. The choking, gurgling gasps of blood echoed eerily around the room. Cohen struggled to get to his knees, trying to reach his partner. He knew that Ashcroft had an influence on him. He may have been a bigot and an asshole, but he didn’t deserve to die.

A swift kick from Ashcroft sent Cohen sliding across the floor. “Don’t be greedy. You’ll get what you need soon enough, but I don’t want you healing until I’m ready.”
Ashcroft lorded over him, like a teacher would with a troublesome student. “Your injuries aren’t life threatening and somehow I don’t think you share my vision just yet.” He bent down, that ghastly face, crisscrossed with scars, just inches from Cohen’s almost handsome but bruised face. “You still want to help them? You mourn the idiotic human and you would take the side of monsters that would sooner drain you dry for your blood than look at you? Is your entire family this foolishly sentimental or is it just you?”

Lilith watched every single muscle in Cohen’s body tense. He flung his uninjured hand at Ashcroft’s grisly smile with everything he had but there was no way he’d actually land the hit. The monster simply caught his wrist and placed his hand down on the floor.
“Petulant child. You don’t fully appreciate your gifts. You will learn. It’s been a long time since I’ve come across one of my own kind. When I’m finished with these blood suckers, I’ll use what’s left of them to show you your true potential. Perhaps then you will see how insignificant all of this really is.”

“What? Why?” Cohen was ghostly white as the realization dawned on him that Ashcroft wanted him here for a reason. He
intended to try and turn him, make him into the same type of monster, mold him like a student. The fact that Cohen was completely mortified definitely relieved her. Considering all that Ashcroft could do, the powers he’d gained, it would tempt most people.

Ashcroft stood straight and Lilith finally realized that he was wearing medical scrubs. She’d been concentrating so hard on his talon like fingers, his scarred face and his burning, beady eyes that she hadn’t even noticed his clothes. Now that she was really looking, it just seemed odd. The liquid grace of his movements didn’t match the pale green scrubs that hung o
ff his boney frame. Ratty, flowing robes of burlap would have fit the scene better, especially with the lanterns scattered about. Of course he probably grabbed those from Goditha. It might be hard to explain clumps of his own brain matter smeared across his clothing.

“I owe you a favor and this is how I choose to repay you.”

Cohen scooted up against the wall, still cradling his wrist. Duncan eyed him with an eerie hunger, taking his attention away from his toes for the first time. He wasn’t within reach, but that didn’t stop Duncan from scooting a little closer, drool dripping from his thin, chapped lips. Cohen glanced at the demented vampire and returned his attention to the true monster with a look of pure disgust. “I haven’t done you any fucking favors. You’re demented.”

Ashcroft’s laugh was as creepy as his scarred, boney face. “My dear boy, but you have!” He was still standing in profile so she could see the smile curling his lips, his crooked teeth glinting in the light. If he’d turn completely around, face the back of the room, she might have a chance to sneak up and untie Gregor. Her father was only a couple feet from her, a good twenty from where Ashcroft was standing, but with the possibility of being seen in his
peripheral vision, she didn’t dare try it. Not yet. She needed a distraction.

“My protégé lacked the finesse required of him. He nearly killed my most coveted toy. I know you were the one that saved her. I could smell it in her blood. I could smell you. Of course…” His eyes narrowed and his mouth closed in a firm line. “You didn’t fully comprehend the consequences of giving her your blood, but you are young and it couldn’t be helped, I’m sure.”

“What consequences?” Her father’s voice almost startled her and she could see that Ashcroft had a similar reaction. Lilith quickly pulled back. She didn’t want to be in Ashcroft’s direct line of sight just in case. Of course if he didn’t see her, he’d probably hear her heart beating like a damn drum if he got any closer.

“And why should I tell you!” Ashcroft spit the words with such venom that she could almost taste it, like bile on the back of her tongue. “You think of yourself as noble and just, but you’re a filthy peasant who slaughtered my entire family.
Defenseless women and children. You think I’m such a monster?! Even after you tortured me for days? And then what did you do? You tried to make me into one of you so you could keep torturing me! Do not speak! I want you to have your tongue when I cut the eyes from your daughter’s skull but I will rip it out by the root if you speak again!” His words reached a fevered pitch that boomed through the room and down the corridor.

Lilith pulled her knees to her chest
with tears stinging her eyes. All she could think of was Miriah’s face or rather what was left of it after Ashcroft’s work. She squeezed her eyes closed but Miriah’s laughing face from her nightmare bobbed back and forth, the sliced ribbons of her ears flopping with that wet, slapping sound. Bile rose in her throat and she had to focus to keep from throwing up. The last thing she needed was her suddenly delicate stomach giving away her position.

Silence settled over the room and Lilith struggled to be as quiet as possible. She wanted to run upstairs, find Chance before Coffee could and just get the hell out of here. Alvarez, Cohen and her father may still be alive, but she sure as hell couldn’t save them if she didn’t think of something fast. She leaned her head back against the wall with her eyes closed, trying to recreate the room in her head. There had to be something.

There were several barrels scattered about the room. None of the lanterns were near them, but she remembered their shapes. Beyond that it was merely a mess of concrete columns and various pipes as well as the large boiler which was tucked in the far right corner. If the barrels contained something flammable… but then everyone in the basement would die. It could possibly take out most of the building. If she was looking for a self-destruct sort of distraction that would work, but she sure as hell didn’t want to die. Fuck.

Lilith’s hands tightened around the gun in pure frustration. Her legs were starting to quiver from being crouched down for so long. She needed to stretch or she wouldn’t be able to take advantage if an opportunity came up. Very slowly, she forced her legs to straighten, standing tall
, as the pins and needles sensation crept through her legs. She bit her lip and focused all her energy on listening for any sound of movement.

“It doesn’t make you any less of a monster.” Alvarez’s familiar, Spanish-flecked voice almost made her smile. He was conscious again.
Lilith craned her neck around the corner again, just enough to see.

Ashcroft turned his back on Gregor and glared down at Alvarez. “Hold your tongue, Spanish mongrel. You know nothing. You blindly defend your master.” He was definitely losing his cool. If Alvarez could hold his attention, this could be her chance to cut
Gregor loose. Of course, if Alvarez kept goading him, it would probably get him killed.

Ashcroft started to turn away and for the briefest second, Alvarez caught her eyes. He’d seen her. It was an intense moment of understanding. He was determined to give her the distraction she desperately needed.

“You’re nothing but a bitter man that’s lost his sanity. You want to use the death of your family as an excuse to exercise your own sick fantasies. That doesn’t make you righteous. It makes you insane.” If she hadn’t been watching, she wouldn’t have recognized her own partner’s voice. There wasn’t a single inflection of his usual Spanish accent. He wasn’t screaming, in fact his voice was calm, even bored.

Lilith took advantage of the
moment to look closer at the room. One of the barrels closest to a light source had ta roughed up Flammable sticker plastered to the side. The other barrels were about the same size and shape. That would explain why none of the lanterns were too close to them. Was that Ashcroft’s endgame? Torture and kill them all and burn down any evidence.