Coldstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 7) (30 page)

He nodded. Without thought, he brushed his mouth over hers. "Stay safe."

Her expression remained in shadow, but Matt caught a hint of amusement and pleasure in the curve of her lips, the tilt of her head.

"You as well," she replied.

Then she kissed him back.

His heart thumped low and heavy. Sure. He'd be safe. If only to ensure she remained so.

They continued on, Anca's hand in his, though she must know he could see perfectly fine in the growing light.

Matt didn't want to lose the small connection to her. Not just yet.

And Anca didn't seem to mind.

The tunnel made another gentle turn. Just ahead, it opened up into another, much larger, cavern. They stopped, scooting into deeper shadows near the wall. This place had been cleared of the thornish stalactites and stalagmites. Past an open, empty area about twenty-five feet deep, varying lengths of gold wires dangled from the ceiling, holding colorful silken curtains. The cloth undulated as if stirred by the air, but didn't flutter. Golden metal bars secured them to the leveled stone floor.

Undecipherable voices surrounded them. Matt nudged Anca and raised a brow, asking if she could understand them.

She shook her head no.

Tapping her shoulder, he motioned her to stay there, and slowly, silently, crept closer to the cavern. When he reached the end of the tunnel, he cautiously looked inside.

The open area between them and the sheets of cloth stretched to both sides. It was completely empty of anyone, anything, leaving him no clues. About twenty feet lay to the left, a good fifty feet to the right. The brightly colored silk curtains blocked the way except for a narrow isle in the center leading further inside.

And so deep he couldn't see the back.

Light came from overhead. Someone had rigged electricity in this place. Strings of white Christmas lights hung suspended across the ceiling further inside, leaving the front where he stood in muted tones.

Returning to Anca's side, he quietly explained what he'd seen.

After a moment's thought, she said, "I'll stay on point. You keep watching our backs."

They cautiously headed for the isle between the hanging cloths. At their approach, the colorful silk on both sides undulated, as if someone behind it sensed, and reacted to them. The metal bars attached to the rock floor didn't move at all.

A roiling in Matt's gut screamed to get them both out of there.

Immediately.

There was so much wrong here.

So very, very wrong.

Even he, with his limited, mundane magical senses, could feel it.

What must the darkness around them be doing to Anca, who's senses were so much stronger?

But retreat wasn't an option.

He eased closer to her.

Voices rose and fell around them. Talking, arguing. But there were no words clear enough to understand, like it was much more than merely thin silk between them.

As they slipped further along the narrow isle, the sounds changed.

Soft sighs. Heavy moans.

The smack of damp, naked skin slapping skin. The beat of bodies thudding against bodies. The curtains undulated in larger ripples, matching the rhythm of frantic couples hidden behind the silk.

Memories of Anca pressed against him, the taste of her sweet essence, how she'd taken him inside her so sweetly, drowned Matt until he could think of nothing except her.

Of holding her.

And most of all, of loving her completely once again.

A woman cried out in ecstasy.

A man groaned roughly, then shouted his release.

The air stirred around them protectively.

Weak. Soft. Barely cold at all.

Enough for Matt to gather his control and shove forward.

Anca glanced at him, her teeth worrying her lower lip. Her flushed face told him she'd been remembering the same exact things that continued to lay so heavy on his mind.

They hurried on.

Time seemed fluid—nearly stopping one moment, slipping through Matt's fingers the next. Sometime later the sounds of sex faded.

Replaced by the crack of a whip hitting flesh. Agonized moans. Short, punctuated screams so bone deep they chilled Matt's soul.

Were they now passing torture chambers?

Anca started toward the silk to their right. Before Matt could stop her, she froze as if halted by an invisible, impassable wall.

Shaking her head, she turned back to him and whispered against his ear, "The spirits warn of danger from the silk cloths. Don't get too close. Let's keep going."

Finally, the isle ended, spilling them out into a large open area at the back of the cavern.

Directly across from them, against the far wall, sat a throne made out of bones—both mortal and Arcaine by the look—decorating a raised wooden dais. To their right was a picturesque scene straight out of some medieval castle's dining hall, with wooden and stone tables and benches.

The left side was more gruesome.

Metal twisted into devices of torture and blackened by layers of blood were spotlighted. Dangling lights clustered above each staged tableau. Beside every torture device sat a table with bloodied instruments ready to inflict pain.

Anca quietly pointed out four tunnels exiting the cavern. One to the right, behind the dining tables. Logic dictated it led to kitchens of some sort. Another to the far left, the ground darkened with a wide trail of blood. Probably to wherever they kept their prisoners.

And two at the back, behind the dais and its terrible throne.

Those were the ones. Those two tunnels would most likely lead them to where the Rogues spent their time hiding. Cowering and plotting more murders.

Matt jerked the reins in on his rage, heightened by the lust still simmering in his blood. He had to pull himself together. He normally wasn't this emotional. The mark of a good doctor—and warrior—was being able to shut down the parts of his mind and heart he needed, in order to concentrate on the job, whatever it might be, in front of him.

Was it Anca who made it so hard to ignore, or a lingering spell in this dark place?

He didn't know.

Wasn't sure an answer would help much in any case.

Matt leaned in and whispered, "You think Robby is locked up, or with the Rogues?"

"With the bastards."

"Then I'd bet on the tunnels at the back."

"I agree." But she didn't move. Instead, Anca continued to study the room intently.

A moment later her eyes widened. She took a couple steps back, jerking him with her.

Before Matt could react, Anca let go of his hand. Jumped in front of him, as if to block him from a threat he couldn't see.

Matt stepped back up to her side.

A tingle spread over his skin. Lights flickered in front of his face. He felt Anca's spirits brush over him, but distantly. They were so weak, less substantial than a soft wind unable to stir a tree's leaves.

The sparks in his eyes flashed brighter, becoming blinding strobe lights. Pain pierced his temples. The buzzing on his skin turned to fire, flames licking over him, burning him alive.

From head to feet, Matt's body tightened, his muscles strung taut. He started to turn to Anca, only to realize he couldn't move.

Anca?
he tried to say.

He couldn't speak.

After a seemingly endless, useless struggle, Matt wrangled a few shreds of calmness. He breathed deep. Centered his mind.

Then he dug deep for the core of strength inside him. Though he couldn't see her, see anything, Anca's image weighed heavily on his mind. Matt couldn't, damn well wouldn't, let her down.

He grasped at anything inside of himself that he could find and hold onto. Finally, finally, his head turned. His vision cleared. He stared at Anca.

The fire burning against his skin faded at a deep rush of emotion. Heady primal instincts.

Protect. Mate.

Matt managed to raise a hand. To reach for her.

The strobe light flashed again. This time it became a struggle to even think. A soft, soothing lullaby drifted around him. Enthralling sounds that encased him completely. Beneath the song, a voice called to him. It almost sounded like Anca.

Almost.

But something about it struck him as off. As not truly the one who was his to protect.

Then that thought too became hard to hold. The voice commanded him, telling him exactly what he must do.

***

A
nca strained against the powerful magic. It ignored her barriers, continually surging and swelling in an attempt to drown her beneath a ferocious onslaught.

Vibrations pummeled her, shocking her senses. Left her reeling and confused. She tried to call her power, to throw up a shield, any kind, willing to attempt anything in the hopes it would work.

Except nothing inside her responded.

Her magic was mostly blocked. Impossibly so.

Beside her, Matt groaned. His muscles tensed, relaxed, tensed. He fought hard against the power trying to take them, to control them.

The few earth spirits who'd stayed with them zoomed to Anca, splashing themselves over her in waves of magical light. The world around her shimmered, then refocused. This time, she saw clearly the aura remnants of the creature attacking them.

But how?

How could these Rogues possibly have gotten two sirens? Because there was no doubt the one they'd faced earlier was well and truly dead.

A deep strangled cry jerked her focus to Matt.

His body continued to tense and flex, even as he took a step away from her, toward the torture devices laid out and displayed like grizzly works of art.

She struggled to call to him.

Only a hoarse whisper emerged.

She reached for Matt. Though her thoughts remained her own, her body did not. The zapping prickle of magic washing harder over her held her limbs.

As it must be controlling Matt.

He took another step away.

Only the earth spirits stopped the siren song from taking Anca completely. Their dimming flashes said the strain was taking its toll. They were at the limits of their strength. Knowing they were the only reason she hadn't yet been swallowed completely, Anca still asked them, "Go to him. Help Matt."

They refused. Their shimmering magic waned further. Their connection to the earth was nearly gone due to the evil in this place.

Like them, her connection to the earth and most of her Romani magic was cut off. It left her feeling weak, lacking the strength to fully fight. And nearly powerless to break free of the siren's spell.

Digging deeper, she grabbed hold of every last ounce of her magic. Pouring every last bit of power she could muster into the spell, she called for a barrier stretching around her and Matt both.

The air sparked. With a pop and a flash of light, the barrier fizzled and dissolved.

Someone here was able to counter the Council's magic.

Again.

Anca's heart sank with heavy despair.

Matt continued to haltingly stagger across the cave. His body still tensed, then relaxed, over and over again. His steps dragged. He fought with everything he had. Just before he disappeared inside the dark tunnel on the left wall, he cried out in a strangled voice, "Anca!"

Then he was gone.

Turning full attention to her, the soft, sweet song rose around Anca like a caress.

It held an undertone of childish giggles. The one controlling the magic was toying with them.

Anca's right foot moved forward. Then her left. She resisted with all she had, but couldn't stop her progress to the dais and its horrible throne.

An unfamiliar voice revolved in her thoughts.
The man had been taken. No matter how she struggled, she would be taken as well.

With a deep breath, Anca blanked her mind to nothing but the here and now. Unless she got control of herself and the situation, they both would be captured. As would their backup, assuming if it ever arrived.

None of them were prepared for a second siren.

Still uncontrollably walking to the dais, Anca sank a fang into her tongue, relishing the coppery tang of blood. She shut down the external, bit by bit, focusing only on herself and the spirits plastered against her.

The light dimmed as she was forced into the tunnel to the right of the throne.

At least her thoughts remained her own. A tiny hope in the growing darkness. So how could she use this to get free? To gain the advantage?

If her Council magic didn't work, and she couldn't connect to the earth, making her Romani magic useless, it left only her vampire skills.

She must break the spell's hold over her.

Să te ia dracu
, but how?

The wider tunnel abruptly ended in a smaller, hand chiseled cave, partitioned by brick walls and closed wooden doors.

Anca was forced to turn left. The magic pushed her through the only open door, then forced her to a stop just inside, surrounded by a thick pool of shadows.

Lights clicked on to either side of her, revealing about ten feet into the room. Anca blinked, her eyes adjusting quickly. The walls were draped by more colorful silks. Thankfully these appeared to hide nothing more than walls chiseled from rock.

Her body moved again, forced steps taking her further inside. More lights clicked on as she walked, showing her more of a very narrow, endlessly long room. She couldn't turn her head, but in her peripheral vision she spotted shadowy things hanging from chains against the walls.

It took her long moments to realize that what first looked like nothing more than raw slabs of bloody meat were actually people.

Arcaine long tortured and abused.

More light blazed on. Straight ahead. Revealing the end of the long room. Another raised wooden dais. Another throne of bleach-white bone.

Except in this one sat a child.

The girl looked younger than the reported ten years old. And like a porcelain doll, from the ringlets in her dark hair to the ruffled bottom of her ball gown, complete with ruffled petticoats and satin slippers on tiny feet. In contrast, her cherubic face was painted garishly in blacks and crimson. The girl's eyes had bled to a clouded blackish red. Her strange gaze swirled with thoughts from a mind far past insanity.