Hell's Teeth (Phoebe Harkness Book 1) (21 page)

When I finally skidded to a halt, I was face down in the snow. My arms and legs felt like they were on fire, and I could taste blood in my mouth. I couldn’t breathe. The air had been thoroughly knocked out of my lungs.

From the corner of my eye, with the world still spinning, I could see Allesandro’s motorbike on its side in the road, its wheels still spinning furiously. Wherever he was, I didn’t see my vampire.

I tried to move but the pain was so great, it made my vision disappear down a long tunnel of watery agony, so I lay still, gasping and hoping to hell I hadn’t broken my spinal cord.

I heard footsteps crunching in the snow then rough hands grabbed me, more than one pair, and I was dragged across the snowy grass like a rag doll, limp and helpless. Every movement sent jolts of pain through me. I felt as though I’d broken a rib or three.

Someone picked me up and threw me over their shoulder in a careless fireman’s lift. The world was upside down again, my hair in my face. I tried to call out for Allesandro, for anyone, but I couldn’t make a sound, other than a soft, painful moan.

My captor threw me roughly down on a hard metal surface. I heard a rolling shutter and then I was in darkness.

They had put me in the van. Oh fuck.

I felt and heard the vehicle pull away quickly, knocking me off balance. The windows were blacked out and I was laid on an uncomfortable lump, which I realised must be Oscar. I shook my head gingerly, trying to come to my senses.

Slowly, in the darkness before me, I focused on a large pale shape, the same shape which had dropped onto Allesandro’s speeding bike and knocked me off it. As I blinked blearily, it slowly resolved into a man, tall and pale, in a creamy suit. He was sitting on his haunches in the back of the van, looming over me like a demonic goblin.

It was Gio. His eyes were like molten lava, gleaming in the darkness above his gentle, evil smile.

“Hello again, Phoebe,” he said softly in the darkness. “I think you and I have some unfinished business.”

I was shaking uncontrollably. Part of me was wishing I would just pass out. But I didn’t, of course.

I was wide awake when he leaned over in the darkness of the van, grabbing a fist full of my hair with his long white fingers, and sank his teeth viciously into my throat.

I remember screaming as I passed out.

24

I awoke feeling as though I had the worst hangover known to man. I was disoriented, bleary and sick. My head insisted that I’d spent the previous few hours on a rollercoaster while downing mojitos, tequila and gin, before following the entire thing with a bucket of greasy fried chicken topped with slimy bacon.

My body, on the other hand, was telling me the complete opposite of what I knew I should expect. As I swam up slowly from the deep, murky waters of unconsciousness, I was braced to feel bruised, battered, and broken-boned; all of the usual little aches and niggles one might expect after being thrown from a speeding motorbike and then gored by a vampire.

On the contrary, though. The grogginess and sickly feeling in my head aside, I felt physically fine. Not even bruised.

I risked opening my eyes but this didn’t immediately do any good as wherever I was, it was pitch black. There was not the smallest sliver of light. It was also very quiet.

I wondered briefly if I was dead, but it was only a fleeting consideration. If this was some kind of afterlife, it was incredibly dull so far. Plus, I doubted very much that anyone had ever shuffled off the mortal coil and then awoken in heaven or hell to find themselves tied to a chair.

From wriggling my arms and legs, I knew it didn’t feel like rope. I was guessing duct tape. I licked my lips. So I wasn’t gagged then. This meant that either my kidnappers expected me to remain unconscious or that wherever I was, screaming for help wasn’t worrying enough for them to do anything about it, so probably wasn’t worth the effort.

I shook my head a few times, testing my overwhelming mental yuckiness. My head didn’t quite fall off, but it was close. I figured the light-headedness probably came from having Gio drink me like a thick milkshake until I passed out.

Something brushed against my face as I moved, rough cloth? Ah. There was a bag over my head then. That would explain the darkness. It didn’t, however, explain why I felt so hale and hearty. Why the hell wasn’t I bleeding internally?

“She’s awake, go get Gio,” said a woman’s voice somewhere in front of me, startling me and making me jump.

“You’re sure she’s awake?” growled another voice, male and unfamiliar.

“Just bring him down, will you?”

The woman sounded impatient. I heard footsteps, then a creaky door opening and closing.

A hand grabbed the bag on my head and whipped it off. I blinked, disoriented, breathing hard through my nostrils, staring around at my surroundings.

I’d seen this room before but I couldn’t quite place it. I was in a small circular chamber with rough stone walls, old grey flagstones, no windows, and one ancient-looking wooden door, banded with black iron. Oh goody, I was in Rapunzel’s tower.

There would be windows in a tower, though, surely? I must be underground then. A cellar? The room did look old. My mind tactfully tried to avoid the word ‘dungeon’.

Suddenly, I realised why I recognised this place. It was on the DataStream video.

The one which had arrived with my supervisor’s teeth.

I coughed. The air down here was musty and there was an odd smell. Something animalistic, like the fetid bottom of a lion’s cage.

A slender female vampire stood in front of me, smiling down in an unsettlingly friendly manner. I didn’t recognise her at first. This was largely because other than the very pale skin, she didn’t look very … I hesitate to use the word … vampy.

She was wearing simple grey slacks and a chunky black pullover. Her hair was tied back from her face in a high ponytail. The vampire wasn’t wearing any makeup, not that she really needed any. Most of the vampires have flawless complexions naturally, as though they have been lightly dusted with icing sugar. In fact, the way she was dressed made her look less like a wicked vampire kidnapper and more like a wholesome soccer mom – albeit a very anaemic one.

“Good to see you again, sweetie,” she smiled.

I recognised her voice more than her face. That soft, lazy drawl … it was Jessica. This was the vampire who had been sitting with Gio and Oscar in the club, the one who hadn’t been particularly keen on me dancing with Allesandro.

“Where am I?” I stammered. “People will be looking for me, you know.”

I had no idea if this was true or not, but I thought I’d better say it.

“Doesn’t really matter where,” Jessica said, unconcerned.

She walked away from me and I looked around more. The old stone block walls were damp and crumbly. There was something behind me, the back legs of my chair were butting against it when I moved, but I couldn’t see properly. My movements were more than somewhat restricted by being tied to the chair in question.

Bizarrely, I noticed, someone had moved furniture into the room; a battered-looking old leather sofa, and incongruously, a table on which stood a coffee maker and a few mugs. There was a newspaper too. I guess kidnappers can’t just stand over their hostages menacingly twenty four seven, even if they are vampires.

I watched Jessica pour herself a coffee casually, reaching up to tuck a lock of stray hair behind her ear. She was humming distractedly to herself.

“What’s with the outfit?” I asked, trying to get her attention. “You look a little less like a bondage queen than the last time I saw you.”

She glanced up at me, her eyes narrowing.

“It’s an improvement,” I said.

“Oh please,” Jessica rolled her eyes at me. “Do you honestly think that’s how we all are? That we swan around the place in tank tops and leather pants all the time? That we have closets filled with antique lace shirts and that we love nothing more than to slap on more makeup than a gothic drag queen?”

She folded her arms and cocked her head to the side, her ponytail bouncing in a preppy, defiantly cheerful manner. She blew delicately on her coffee.

“I’m more than three hundred years old, honey. I’m over the moody vamp look. To be perfectly honest, the only people who expect that crap from us are you, predictable humans. Got to look the part while we’re working, don’t we? All the precious little Helsings would be pretty darn disappointed if they came to worship us at the club and found me swanning around in my country casuals, or dear old Gio in a pair of comfy loafers and an argyle sweater.”

She tittered to herself, clearly amused.

I had to agree with her logic. So the dark and moody vampire vibe
was
an act after all. It made sense, I guess. Give the people what they expect. This was still an odd sight, however, like unexpectedly walking in on Audrey Hepburn and finding her slobbing around in a shell suit eating pizza from the box.

“I hate all that childish shit,” Jessica said, sipping her drink. “But hey, work’s work, right? We all have our part to play. I guess I’d be pretty disappointed if I went to a fifties-style diner and the servers weren’t all on rollerskates and chewing gum…”

She flung herself onto the sofa.

“And yet you stick with the traditional vampire den motif,” I said, glancing around the room. “Very homely. Where are the coffins?”

Jessica smirked at me.

“Eww, as if I
live
here. No sweetie, this is just where we bring the offerings.”

That didn’t sound good.

Before I could question the vampire, the door opened and another woman entered the room. She was tall, statuesque, with a shock of long, white blonde hair trailing down her back. She was a vampire too, and again surprisingly un-gothic. She was wearing a coral twinset and kitten heel shoes. She looked more like a perky estate agent than anything.

“Does Gio know the last one is up and awake?” the blonde vampire asked Jessica after looking me over. “He’s going to want to know. You know how he gets if he’s not kept informed, the dandy old queen.”

“I sent Amano to wake him,” Jessica replied.

She looked me over to me too, waving an introductory hand.

“Phoebe Harkness, this is Helena. You might have seen her at Sanctum. Helena is one of our highest earners. All the men literally fall at her feet,” she smirked. “If you ask me, I think it’s due to the red getup. I’m sure I read about it in some magazine or other. It’s a subconscious thing with men. Wear red on a first date and a guy will spend more money on you, or something like that.”

“Hush, Jessica,” Helena smiled, raising her eyebrows at me. “It’s not the PVC, it’s raw talent, that’s what it is. Don’t listen to her, she’s so sarcastic. You don’t live as long as I have without learning how to charm the wallet off a mark.”

I realised I recognised this one too. When I’d seen her back in the club, her hair had been in dreadlocks down her back and she had squeezed into a bright red jumpsuit so tight, it had looked spray-painted on. She had been smoking with an affected elongated holder and holding court over a gaggle of love-struck clubbers like a red queen.

She looked altogether respectable now though. I could almost have believed I was at a church coffee morning with these two. You know, if I hadn’t been tied to a chair and all.

“Are you going to kill me?” I asked simply.

I was impressed at how steady I made my voice, considering I didn’t feel very steady. I was bloody terrified.

The two women exchanged glances.

“Not
us
sweetie,” Jessica said. “Gio might.”

She sounded speculative, as though we were discussing the weather, toying absently with a broach on her lapel.

“To tell you the truth, he’s still pretty pissed at you for making a mess of the club. He really doesn’t like to be made a fool of.”

“He might not though, you never know,” Helena said with a rather patronising and encouraging smile, which made me want to hit her very hard. “He doesn’t
need
to after all. He only needs the teeth technically. But you never can tell with Gio, he has his tempers. It doesn’t really take much. The others didn’t end up walking out of here.”

“What do you mean, he needs the teeth?” I asked. “What the hell did you mean by offering? And can I just say, while we’re all sitting around chatting like this, is it absolutely necessary to have me tied to a chair like we’re in some crappy noir thriller?”

They both looked at me thoughtfully.

“I’m human, you two are vampires,” I explained in as friendly a voice as I could manage. “I’m fairly certain you’re faster and stronger than me. If I was going to try and make a run for it, I don’t think I’d get very far, do you?”

They exchanged glances again.

“It’s just … look, I’ve had a really awful night. I would love a coffee.”

Jessica shrugged, seemingly uncaring either way. Helena crossed over to me and, in a few swift moves, tore off the duct tape from my wrists, behind my back and round my ankles. She wasn’t gentle about it, or maybe I was just a wuss, because I yelped a little. I couldn’t help it. Everyone has arm hair, even if it is very fine, and it bloody hurts.

“Look, honey, just so we’re clear,” Helena said to me good-naturedly. “If you do decide to do anything stupid, I will have to rip your head off your shoulders. And I really
will
do it. I don’t want to, to be honest. It’s messy and dry cleaning is expensive. So just play nice, okay?”

I rubbed my wrists angrily as she stepped away.

“I don’t recall you Black Sabbath guys playing
nice
when you tazered that boy and then ran me off the road and threw me in a van.”

Jessica had stood and was pouring me a coffee by the counter. I hadn’t actually seen her get up from the sofa. These two might look like the cast of
Desperate Housewives
while out of their uber-gothic Halloween costumes, but I had to remind myself that they were still vampires. They moved faster than I could follow when they wanted to.

“It’s Black
Sacrament
dear,” Jessica said. “And don’t blame
us
for your kidnapping, we weren’t even there. Those were Gio’s boys. They’re can be a little heavy handed. Personally, I think they’ve played a tad too many video games. Gio wasn’t leaving things to chance though. Not after you gave him the slip at the club. He’s pissed enough as it is that your loverboy Allesandro got away.”

Of course, Allesandro had gone flying off the bike at the same time as I had. So he had got away? How? And where the hell was he now?

“It would have been a lot simpler if you’d just stayed put at the fundraiser,” Helena said, as though I had been deliberately difficult just the vex them. “We weren’t even there for you. Not yet anyway. But I guess two birds, one stone, right?”

I remembered the sight of Oscar, crumpling on the snowy steps as a few thousand volts ran through his idiotic body. God knows why, but I couldn’t help feel sorry for the kid. He was just a dumb Helsing, playing a dangerous game because he was bored. I wouldn’t wish this on him. I wondered if they had him somewhere else in the building.

“You were there for Oscar.”

Helena made a face.

“God, no! That little crack head? He’s a pain in the arse,” she said. “Do you know he actually tried to chat me up at the club one time? He thought he could charm me. Unbelievable! He was pretty out of his skull at the time, I admit, but he does seem to be labouring under the delusion that he’s an irresistible catch.”