Love Bites (19 page)

Rachel sighed and decided it was going to be a long day.

 

Etienne gave his office door a frustrated kick, then turned and paced to the refrigerator in his desk. He had already ingested four bags while examining the
damage done to the door and seeing if he couldn't somehow fix it. It was looking like it would be an impossibility. Pudge had really done a number on it, and that combined with the high-tech security he had installed to keep his office theftproof were working against him. He also wished he'd been smart enough to turn on that high-tech security system Rachel had mentioned. Unfortunately, between trying to soothe Rachel's anger last night and making love to her, he'd forgotten to reactivate it after entry.

Etienne cursed his stupidity. He'd never really been worried about his home or his possessions, or even himself before. His work had been the only thing he had thought both valuable and vulnerable until now. He'd never been concerned about being attacked. The average house robber would have been in for an unpleasant surprise had he tried breaking into his home, especially it he had the temerity to attack him. Then too, the days of threat from vampire hunters were long over—or had been until Pudge. But Rachel was very valuable to Etienne, far more valuable than he had admitted to her. And thanks to his neglect, she was now in danger, and he was helpless.

Etienne had made his office into a sort of panic room—both human-and vampire-proof—since everything computer was surprisingly popular with vampires. Now Pudge had turned his high-tech panic room into a cage by ripping out his door panel. No one could get in or out without an acetylene torch to
cut through the six-inch steel. Unfortunately, Etienne hadn't had the forethought to keep one in his office. He was stuck until Bastien and Lucern arrived. Hours from now. Hours during which anything could happen to Rachel.

Etienne glared at the thousands of dollars' worth of ruined equipment that used to make up his work station. If he could get some of it up and running again, he might be able to contact someone sooner. It was a longshot. Pudge had been thorough in his destruction. Still, it was better than sitting imagining all the horrible things that could happen to Rachel.

He grabbed another bag of blood from the fridge, noting absently that it was starting to grow warm. Apparently Pudge had managed to hit the fridge too. Still, it wasn't really a concern. He'd had enough blood already and didn't mind it a tad warm.

He set to work fiddling with his equipment.

 

“I am not biting Muffin.” Rachel glared at Pudge as he dangled the small terrier before her. She couldn't even believe he would suggest it. The man was a sicko. Taking her earlier diplomatic silence as encouragement, Pudge had explained that he really wanted to be a vampire. He thought it would be cool to live forever and run the night with vamp chicks on his arm. He seemed to see himself as the star of his own B-grade vamp movie, his skinny, greasy geek persona being traded in for the debonair bad boy of the night.
As if being turned would somehow change his looks and personality too.

When Rachel had made a murmur she hoped he would take as encouragement rather than the derision it was, he had got quite animated, explaining that he had fantasized about this a lot since realizing Etienne was a vampire. One of his plans had been to finally kill Etienne, then scope the funeral, pick out a vamp chick—“'cause you know, lots of 'em would probably attend his funeral”—then pick the one he liked best and bring her back to his pad. There she would go down on him and turn him by biting his—

Rachel had interrupted at that point to inform him that, if he expected or tried to force her to bite him there, he could think again. He'd tilted his head and said, “But I have the stake. I've got the power. You have to do what I say.”

Rachel had narrowed her eyes on the little cockroach and calmly told him, “Yes. You have the stake and therefore the power—for now. But if you try to force me to bite you there, I'll bite it right off. Like blood chewing gum.” She'd then forced an evil grin, hoping all the while that her face didn't reflect her nausea.

Judging by the way Pudge had paled and crossed his legs, Rachel assumed her warning was a suitable deterrent. He'd certainly stopped insisting she could bite and turn him, but he had also forced her to her feet and ordered her to lead the way to the basement.

At that point, Rachel had feared she might have gone too far and made herself useless, thus signing her own death warrant. However, he hadn't killed her. He had chained her to the walls of his basement. He really had been all set up to bring a “vamp chick” here to his home, and apparently hadn't expected her to be cooperative right away. Presumably, he thought he could change that with a little time. Perhaps he was counting on Stockholm syndrome or something to kick in and help with the matter.

Whatever the case, he'd ordered her to step up to the wall and snap the steel manacles around her ankles, thighs, waist, and neck. He'd approached carefully once she had, keeping the crossbow pointed at her chest, and affixed the ones around her shoulders and wrists. He'd then left her there and returned upstairs. Rachel had immediately set to work trying to escape her bonds, but these had been even thicker and stronger than the ones in the van, and he had affixed them to the wall so that she stood legs spread and arms out, which made it difficult to gain full strength.

She had still been struggling with them and cursing when the door to the upstairs had opened moments ago. He had returned below to dangle a small fluffy white terrier from its leash before her and sing out the word “dinner.”

“I am not biting him,” Rachel repeated now. Then, unable to watch the poor animal struggle and choke,
she tugged uselessly at her manacles and snapped, “Put that poor animal down. You're choking him to death.”

“But I have to feed you,” he complained, but lowered the animal to the ground and wound his leash around the stair railing as he muttered, “How else are you going to learn to trust me?”

Rachel watched with interest as he muttered to himself. It seemed obvious to her that the man spent way too much time on his own. He was obviously quite used to doing so, as he mumbled, “It's just the neighbor's yappy dog. He's always taking a crap on my lawn, the little barker. I don't know why you can't just eat the damn thing and get it out of my hair. I—”

“I am not eating anyone's fluffy little house pet,” Rachel interrupted his mind's meandering abruptly.

He glanced at her with interest. “How about a rat? I have them delivered every week for my snake, but—”

He paused when Rachel shuddered and shook her head. She was beyond commenting on this one. Eating rat? Dear God.

“Man, you're a fussy eater,” he said with exasperation. “If I'd known you were going to be this much trouble—” His irritated words died as a chime sounded through the house.

Rachel glanced around, unsure what the sound was until Pudge moved to turn on a television that sat in the corner. An image of the front door of a house,
presumably this one, immediately popped into view. Pudge was into hi-tech gizmos just like Etienne, Rachel realized as she peered at the potbellied behemoth in the beer T-shirt now leaning against the doorbell with one hand and pounding at the door with the other.

“My brother.” Pudge sounded glum at first, then suddenly he brightened and turned to her. “You could feed on him. I don't really like him. And you wouldn't even have to turn him. He's a big bully pain in the butt anyway.”

“I am not biting your brother,” Rachel gasped, shocked at the very idea. Jeez, what did he think she was? His very own assassin sent to get rid of any creature who annoyed him? She had never bitten a real live person before and didn't intend to start now. Well, except for Etienne, of course, but that had been rather…er…intimate in nature. Different. She had no intention of starting to bite complete strangers.

“Well, you have to eat something.” He was looking irritated again.

Rachel decided she had to put an end to this. “I'm not hungry. I'm not biting anyone. Or anything.”

“Well, hell!” Apparently deciding not to deal with his brother if she wouldn't bite him, Pudge turned away from the TV screen and paced the room as his brother continued to ring and pound. Just when Rachel thought the racket was going to drive her bonkers, Pudge's bully brother gave up with one last kick
at the door and moved out of camera shot.

Some of Pudge's tension left him when his brother gave up and went away. He stopped pacing and paused before what appeared to be a large metal coffin to sit on its lid, then stared at her with displeasure. Rachel was getting the feeling that she was a major disappointment as a vamp chick. Too bad she couldn't work up any regret over that, she thought, and finally took a look around the basement. She had only got a glance around on the way downstairs, and then she hadn't taken the time while she had been trying to free herself. Now she saw that it was a haven of cheesy vampire paraphernalia. Half of it appeared to be filled with weapons to kill vampires, the other half of things vampires might need: the coffin, a cape hanging from a hook, fake teeth on a counter, every book on vampires ever published. Rachel had an image in mind of him wearing the cape and fake fangs and pretending to be a vampire. She shook her head. The man really was cuckoo.

“So when will you get hungry? And what exactly will you eat, since you're so fussy?”

Rachel glanced back to her captor and decided to be honest in the hope that he would stop offering her his relatives and pets to feed on. “I'm a little hungry now, but I've never bitten anyone. I don't think I can.”

He looked surprised at this admission. “Well then, how have you been feeding? You must have been
feeding since Etienne turned you. That was more than two weeks ago. You—”

“Bagged blood,” she interrupted.

“Bagged blood?” He looked shocked at the thought. “You mean cold bagged blood, like in the hospital?” When Rachel nodded, his face screwed up with disgust. “Ewwwww.”

She rolled her eyes at his reaction. Apparently, he saw biting people as a better alternative to drinking blood like wine. Oh, he'd be a great vampire. One of those rogues Etienne had mentioned. She definitely wasn't ever biting him. Setting him loose on mankind would be a bad thing to do.

“Well, we're gonna change all that. You—” He paused in saying what she suspected was going to be something she didn't want to hear and glanced toward the television screen when the door chimes rang again. Rachel followed his irritated gaze to see a short, round little gray-haired lady there, shouting at the door as she pushed the doorbell and rapped her knuckles on the wood.

This time Pudge grabbed a remote and turned the volume up to hear what the woman was yelling. Her staccato words burst into the room full of indignant fury. “Open the door this instant, Norman Renberger. I know you're in there, and you have my Muffin! I saw you snatch him out of the backyard. You open the door this instant or I'm going right home to call the police.”

“Shit,” Pudge muttered and stood to stomp upstairs.

Rachel turned her attention back to the television, a little worried as she waited for Pudge to answer the door. He hadn't taken the dog with him and suspected this wasn't a good thing.

She saw the door open and Pudge smile an oily smile at the furious woman.

“Hello, Mrs. Craveshaw.”

“Don't you hello me, Norman! Where is my Muffin?”

Rachel winced as Muffin heard his mistress's voice and began to bark. Pudge had left the stairway door open, and apparently the sound carried, for in the next moment Mrs. Craveshaw cried, “Muffin!” and shoved her way past Pudge into the house. She was immediately out of sight of the camera.

“Where is she? Where's my baby? Muffin? Muffin!” Now the voice wasn't coming from the television but from upstairs as the woman followed the sound of the barking. “Muffin!”

The voice had reached the top of the stairs and the woman filled the doorway. Her eyes lit up when she spotted Muffin leashed to the rail, barking like mad.

“Run! Call the police!” Rachel cried, but it was too late. The woman had eyes and ears only for her Muffin. She barreled down the stairs at breakneck speed, cursing at Pudge, who was following her. She had reached the bottom step and was trying to untangle the leash from the post when Pudge hit her over the head with the crossbow. The action launched the
stake it was armed with. Rachel jerked and flinched to the side as it shot at her. Unfortunately, she had nowhere to go to escape the stake. Her manacles held her in place. She cried out in pain as the stake slammed into her heart.

“Welcome back.”

Rachel winced at those words as she blinked her eyes open. For a moment she wasn't sure where she was, but then Pudge's face came into focus before her and her memory returned. Following his gaze to her chest, she grimaced at the sight of her shirt hanging open to reveal her bloodstained lace bra.

“I took the stake out,” Pudge explained, his gaze roving the smooth skin with fascination. “You healed like crazy. First the bleeding stopped, then the hole closed, then even the scar went away. It was mag, man!”

Rachel turned her head wearily away from his excited face. Mag. But now she desperately needed more blood. She couldn't sustain and recover from a
wound like that without using a lot of it. Her body was in an agony of want, cramping and crying out for the fluid of life. She could actually smell the blood inside the man standing before her, and thought she might even be able to hear it pulsing through his veins. If he moved closer, Rachel wouldn't trust herself not to simply take a bite out of him despite her best intentions. With her body screaming for it, she was definitely feeling capable of the feat.

Rachel gave her head a shake and mentally berated herself for even thinking that way. She wasn't some soulless bloodsucking demon who couldn't control herself. Etienne had assured her she wasn't. She could fight it. She just had to convince the incompetent little stake-happy geek to go rob a blood bank and bring her nourishment. She wasn't biting him.

A moan from across the room made Pudge glance behind him, then he moved away. Rachel was so relieved that he had taken his blood-filled scent away that she closed her eyes and didn't pay attention to what he was doing until he returned. The scent returned with him, stronger than it had been before.

“Here you go. I thought about just killing her but decided to save her for you. You need blood. Bite her. Give her the vampire kiss.”

Rachel moaned and turned her head desperately away as Pudge pushed a pale and still woozy Mrs. Craveshaw at Rachel until she was practically beneath her nose. The woman had apparently been uncon
scious the whole time, which could only be a good thing, Rachel supposed. At least the woman hadn't witnessed her “mag” healing. The problem now was that the older woman had a cut on the top of her head from where Pudge had hit her. The blood had poured out into her hair and made a trail down her neck to soak in the shoulder of her flowered blouse. The scent was intoxicating, tempting, damning. She felt her control slipping, then glanced down at the woman's face when she whimpered. Mrs. Craveshaw wasn't looking at her; she was eyeing Pudge in a frightened manner that made it clear she thought he was quite mad. Who could blame her? Rachel thought wearily. There was no such thing as vampires.

“Come on, bite her,” Pudge whined, sounding impatient.

Rachel merely closed her eyes and shook her head, turning her face to the side in an effort to escape the tempting scent. She'd die before killing another being and very much feared that if she did bite the woman, she wouldn't be able to stop until she'd drained her dry. She wouldn't risk it.

“Not hungry enough yet, huh?” Pudge sounded disappointed. “Well, I'll just keep her here until you are.
Oh!”

That exclamation drew her wary gaze back. Much to her relief, Pudge was urging the woman back across the room. She could still smell the blood, but it was fainter, less tempting. But the bright expression on his
face as he glanced back made her wary.

“I bet you're tired, huh?” Pudge said as he tied the woman up. “I hadn't thought of that, but it's daytime and all that, and you're probably suffering that vampire weariness where you can hardly stay awake and you're really weak and stuff.”

Rachel didn't bother to correct him. She didn't think it would be good for him to know any more than he already did about vampires.

“Come on.” Moving back to her, he quickly undid the manacles around her neck, shoulders, and waist, then bent to undo the ones around her thighs and ankles too. Rachel stared down at his head as he worked, thinking mournfully that if she weren't so weak, this would be her opportunity to escape. But her body was seriously lacking in strength, her muscles rubbery with weakness. She wasn't even sure she could hold herself up much more than a moment, let alone knock the little jerk on his butt and make a run for it.

“You can sleep in my coffin,” Pudge announced, straightening to quickly undo her wrists. He was obviously aware of her weakness, or she didn't think he'd have left his crossbow behind, but apparently he was putting it down to it being daytime rather than the blood loss due to the injury. But she hadn't bled out a lot, and he didn't know that the blood would have been used up to repair the damage.

“Originally, I intended to kidnap Etienne and keep
him prisoner here,” he said chattily as he helped her to the large coffin she had noted earlier. “I thought that way I could make him give me all his computer ideas and maybe, you know, bring around the people I don't like for him to bite. There are a lot of people I don't like. I could have kept him quite a while. But then I realized he was too strong to risk that.”

He tugged up the lid of the metal coffin and pushed it all the way open to reveal a red satin lining. Rachel stared into the huge space with bewilderment. It looked like two or three people could easily fit inside.

“I had it made special,” Pudge told her. “I wanted it big enough for me and my vamp babes when I got turned.”

Rachel shook her head at this information. Her thinking was growing muzzy with the need for blood, but she realized that this guy was beyond help, over the edge.

“In you go,” Pudge instructed.

Rachel was exhausted and really wanted to lay down, but there was no way she was getting willingly into that coffin. She'd rather sleep on the concrete floor. “No.”

The word slipped so faintly from her lips that Pudge didn't hear her. “Come on, in you go.”

“I'm not sleeping in that coffin,” Rachel managed a little more strongly.

“Yes, you are,” he insisted. “Get in the coffin. You'll sleep better.”

She managed a shake of the head and glared at him, not surprised when frustration immediately crossed his face. Then his expression cleared.

“Get in the coffin or I'll kill Crabbyshaw.”

Rachel's shoulders slumped in defeat at that threat and she admitted, “I don't think I can—”

It was as far as she got. Pudge scooped her up and dumped her unceremoniously inside. Rachel wasn't sure if it was irritation or simply that he was too weak to hold her for long, but she landed hard and was left gasping as added pain radiated through her. While she was thus incapacitated, Pudge snapped a new manacle around her ankle.

“The chain's long enough for you to get out and feed on old Crabbyshaw when you get hungry,” he explained. “But not long enough for you to get away. Sleep well!”

The lid slammed closed.

Rachel was immediately enclosed in cloying darkness. She reached up weakly, her hand coming up against the satin lining of the coffin. Panic tried to overwhelm her. She had always had a touch of claustrophobia, but it seemed intensified in that moment. Forcing herself to breathe deeply, Rachel let her hand drop weakly back to her chest and tried to calm herself. She would just rest a while. She would rest and regroup, and when he left, she'd slip out and…

Her thoughts became fuzzy there. Slip out and what? Would she even be able to slip out? Without
blood, she wasn't likely to regain her strength. Instead she would grow weaker and weaker and…Dear God, where was Etienne? Why wasn't he here getting her out of this mess? She'd saved his behind by ensuring he was left in his office where blood was readily available; the least he could do was come give her a hand.

It was growing hard to breath. There didn't seem to be enough air in the coffin. She must be using it all up. She would suffocate and die in here.

Rachel forced herself to calm down, telling herself it was just her claustrophobia. She wouldn't die. No one had mentioned lack of air as one of the ways they could die. She just needed to stay calm and wait. Etienne would come.

 

Etienne frowned and glanced toward the door. He wasn't sure, but he thought he'd heard something. Leaving the mess of burnt circuits he'd been fiddling with for what seemed like hours, he stood and moved to the door to press his ear against it.

“Etienne.” The name was very faint through the door, barely audible, but there nonetheless. They'd arrived. Relief welled through him but was quickly followed by confusion as he wondered why his brother hadn't just tried to use thoughts to speak to him. The moment he wondered that, he became aware of several different thoughts hitting his mind at once and realized that they probably had been trying
to reach him mentally, but he'd been wrapped up in tinkering with the computer and had unconsciously closed his mind to outside thoughts.

Etienne? Are you all right?

What happened?

We can't get the door open.

The thoughts flooded his mind all at once and were somewhat confusing, but he recognized that Bastien, Lucern, and his mother were all there on the other side of the door.

Pudge wrecked the door panel.
He sent the thought back.
I'm all right, but he took Rachel. You have to get the door open.

How?
The word was clear but accompanied by various unpleasant thoughts about Pudge and concern for Rachel. Etienne considered the question briefly. If he were out there he could probably get the door open himself, but the rest of his family wasn't very technical. He could probably talk them through it if he could see the panel to see what was damaged, but without that, the fastest way was—

You'll need an acetylene torch. You'll have to cut through the steel around the door lock.
He waited to be sure they had understood and that one of them had left to go in search of the needed torch, then asked,
What time is it?

A little after six,
came the answer, and Etienne closed his eyes. He wasn't positive, but he thought it had been around noon when Pudge had broken in.
That meant he'd had Rachel for more than six hours. God, he hoped she was all right.

 

It was loud rock music that woke Rachel up. She opened her eyes and stared into unrelenting darkness. Her breathing immediately seemed to come harder, as if all the air in the coffin was gone. Panic swamped her again. This time it worked in her favor; the rush of adrenaline accompanying it gave her the strength she needed to shove the coffin lid up. Rachel was so weak she only managed to lift it a couple of inches; then she had to leave her hand between the top and the coffin itself to prevent it closing. She winced at the pain as the lid pressed down on her hand, but it was worth it to have the added air that was now slipping in to her. Gathering her strength, she eased up, forcing the lid of the coffin upward until she could see out into the room.

The first thing she saw was Mrs. Craveshaw tied up and leaning against the wall. The woman was awake and staring wide-eyed at something at the far end of the room. Rachel tried to see what it was, but all she could glimpse was an open door. The position of the coffin didn't allow her to see much of the next room, only a sliver. She didn't see Pudge anywhere. Half-dragging herself and half-pushing, Rachel began to climb over the side of the coffin, suddenly recalling her first morning in Etienne's house, and the way he had sat up and leapt smoothly out of his coffin. She
wished she had the strength to do that right now but considered herself lucky to be able to climb out at all. It was sheer determination moving her, Rachel suspected. She needed blood. She had to get out of there.

A grunt slipped from her lips as Rachel managed to force herself far enough over the edge so that gravity took over and she tumbled to the floor. The rattle and clang of the chain attached to her ankle seemed incredibly loud, despite the music blaring from the other room. She gave herself a chance to catch her breath, expecting Pudge to come stomping up and ruin her escape at any moment.

Rachel opened her eyes and peered toward Mrs. Craveshaw. The woman was now dividing her wide-eyed gaze between Rachel and the other end of the room. Rachel didn't know whether the look on the old woman's face was fear of her or fear for her but knew she had to move.

Not feeling up to standing, Rachel crawled to the woman on her hands and knees, dragging the chain behind her. “Are you okay?”

Mrs. Craveshaw managed a shaky smile. “Yes, dear. But I'm afraid Norman has gone quite mad. He seems to think he's a vampire.”

Rachel followed her gaze to the door in time to see Pudge walk past it. The long cape she'd spotted hanging on the wall was now billowing around his body. Fake white fangs flashed at his mouth.

“Crazy as a loon,” Mrs. Craveshaw said with disgust,
as Pudge suddenly stopped and whirled back the way he'd come, drawing the edge of the cape up to his chin with one hand as he leered into what Rachel presumed was a mirror out of sight in the room.

“I vant to suck your blood, baby,” she could just barely hear him say over the music, in a really bad Dracula impression.

“Yes,” Rachel agreed. “Crazy as a loon.”

 

“We can't call the police. What would we tell them?”

Look,” Etienne interrupted his brothers, who had been arguing ever since finally freeing him from his office. It had felt like forever but might have only been moments since he had been freed, but every minute wasted was too much to him. He had to get to Rachel. “You can call or not as you like, but I'm heading over to Pudge's house. He must have taken her there.”

“You aren't going alone,” Marguerite said firmly. “We'll all go.”

“What about the police?” Bastien insisted. “This is the perfect opportunity to get Pudge out of your hair. He's actually kidnapped Rachel. They'll throw him in jail.”