Pool of Crimson (23 page)

“Umph,” he grunted, but his eyes lightened. The rigid line of his shoulders relaxed as he watched me.

“Do you have any other questions for me?” I asked, sensing the change in mood. I wanted to get the hell out of there on a good note and now was as good a time as any. I couldn’t say why but being in the middle of the police headquarters without my knife or a weapon of any kind made me nervous.

“Do you think I can get her to talk to me again?”

I stepped out through the revolving doors of Police Headquarters into the chilled evening air. The air was getting colder. Soon, there’d be snow. The days had gotten shorter and it’d gotten dark while I’d been inside. I reached in my handbag for my phone. I should at least call Jade and try to convince her to return one of his calls, texts, or emails. It was the least I could do. As I fished around for my phone, something pricked my skin. I jumped at the sudden pain in my middle finger and shoved it into my mouth to stop the miniscule blood flow from the tip of my middle finger.

I reached back into my bag and pulled out the sharp object. The small amulet, surrounded by dried twigs lay flat in my hand. I closed my fingers around the small, misshapen thing that now felt warm against in my hand. An all-encompassing pulse of magic rippled through my arm as I clutched at it. The magic felt familiar and filled me with a sense of safety. I slipped the amulet in the front pocket of my jeans and reached back in for my phone.

I stood on the street corner waiting for the light to change. I dug into my bag again for my keys as I flipped through my phone contacts until I found Jade’s face smiling back at me from the touchscreen.

An engine revved and tires squealed to a halt not far away. I turned quickly to see what the hubbub was about. Before I could focus on the noise in front of me, something hit me hard in the chest and knocked the wind out of me, sending me back a few feet. Everything in my hands scattered across the sidewalk. I stumbled backward as I tried to stay upright and breathe.

Two guys came out of nowhere and grabbed me. I clutched my chest and gasped for air as they lifted me from the ground, then tossed me into the waiting van like I weighed nothing. I hit the side of the van so hard that the thud of me hitting metal reverberated through the van. I sank down the side of the van and my hip popped as I slammed into a seat, hit the floor and bounced.

A tiny hand streaked across my face as someone slapped me. It stung like a bitch. I opened my eyes and Candace’s face came into focus. She was powerful, I could feel that much in my jaw as it throbbed from her slap.

What a pussy! Only pussies slap instead of punch. Jesus, she fights like a fucking girl.

She struck me again with more force. Blood flooded my mouth as the sliding van door slammed. The van pulled away in a screech of tires and burning rubber. I spit out what blood I could and swallowed the rest.

Candace stood up. She was short enough to stand up straight in the back of a van with her hair barely brushing the roof. Her foot landed in my rib cage with a thud. I grabbed her foot. I brought my knee up into the side of her much smaller knee and brought her down to my level. The hit was awkward, but I heard her knee pop which made me happy. A dislocated knee hurt like hell. Believe me, I knew all about it.

She seemed surprised. Well, she kidnapped the wrong girl if she wanted someone who wasn’t going to fight back. I punched her in the face, once, twice, and then a third time before the pain caught up with my brain and my hand started to throb. Candace’s blood covered my hand as she bled freely from the nose and mouth. That made me happy, too.

I elbowed her in the gut and heard a soft groan as she rolled on top of me, getting a better grip around my throat. She was closer to me than I would have liked. Her arms were shorter than mine and she needed the proximity to even get a grip around my throat. I punched her again in the face, then slammed my head into hers to get her to let go. My brain bounced inside my skull, but all she did was wince and look cross-eyed at me for a moment.

Nothing worked.

Finally I grabbed her throat in retaliation, but her grip was so much stronger than mine. My hands on her throat did absolutely nothing but make her squeeze harder.

She watched me with excited eyes and an ecstatic grin, as she cut off my air and I gasped for oxygen. I lost feeling in my fingers and I lost my grip around her neck. Everything disappeared from my sight.

My head pounded behind my eyes. My body hurt like I’d been crammed in a steamer trunk for three days. My face was pressed up against cold cement, and the grit of dirt and small stones ground against the delicate skin of my cheek. My body was stiff. I felt each and every punch, bruise, and scrape on my body like a fire under my skin. I groaned as I tried to stretch my sore limbs, but I couldn’t. My legs were bound at my ankles and my wrists were tied behind my back. The position made my shoulders ache. My clothes stuck to me where I’d bled and blood had dried against my arms, legs, and midsection. At least I’d stopped bleeding. That was something.

Voices mumbled off in the distance. They were muffled and hard to differentiate. It sounded like I was standing in a tunnel and the voices were miles away at the other end. I tried to open my eyes, but my left eye would only open about halfway. I groaned softly as I twisted toward the voices.

I tried to take in my surroundings through my double vision, ignoring the wave of nausea sweeping over me. I opened my eyes and peered out in front of me along the floor. My line of sight was filled with feet on a stone floor. The air smelled of mildew and sulfur. The walls were a familiar stone that I’d seen somewhere before. Where? My brain throbbed, making it impossible to think. The room swerved and separated into two walls and two sets of feet as I tried to focus. God damn it, I was in that fucking basement again.

That double vision’s probably a concussion,
I thought as I tried to take stock of my injuries.
Yep, definitely some cracked ribs,
I realized as I took in a deep breath and felt the sharp pain as my lungs expanded. I could move my legs so those weren’t broken. I couldn’t move two of the fingers on my left hand, which meant they were broken and thankfully numb. My arms were all right, too. The painful pinch of a pinprick dug into my hip as I lay on the floor.
Jesus, the amulet’s still in my pocket,
I thought as I tried to roll off of it.

“You stupid BITCH!” a vaguely familiar deep male voice bit out behind me. “I told you that I wanted her unharmed,” he snarled. The crack of skin on skin filled the room. Someone got slapped.

I rolled over and tried to keep my eyes closed. The movement made me nauseous. Bile rose in my throat until it stung my eyes to hold it back. I clenched my mouth shut and moved up onto my knees. I just needed a minute to focus and then I wouldn’t be sick anymore. Hopefully.

A soft growl from behind me sounded close. I opened my eyes with a jolt, ignoring the swaying my brain was doing and the soft throb of my heart in my swollen eyelid. As my eyes focused and the line of feet in view, I knew I was in trouble. I was surrounded. I forced my eyes to travel up to meet faces and make eye contact. I wasn’t beaten yet, and I wouldn’t let them think that I was either.

Ethan, Marlboro Man, stood over the growling figure of a tiny woman on her hands and knees with long, dark, curly hair.

Candace.

Something churned in the pit of my stomach, an anguish that didn’t belong to me. I didn’t have enough sense to feel anguish, especially not for myself. Patrick was there. His anger rampaged through me like a wildfire. I tilted my head up even as my heart slammed against my chest in protest. I needed to see him to make sure I wasn’t just dreaming it. His dark eyes met mine, violence sparkling in his glare. His full lips hitched in a snarl, and my heart softened as I realized that snarl wasn’t meant for me. I smiled weakly at him as I met his dark eyes and tried to push his anger, and his dread, away. They would just slow me down. I needed the empty peace of the kill. I needed the calm certainty that I could kill anything and anyone. I needed to clear Patrick from my mind.

Patrick’s usually full lips drew into a tight line across his face. His eyes gave me a silent apology that wasn’t necessary. I couldn’t think with all his remorse flooding me. I needed to shut him out. I bowed my head and took a deep breath. There was no time. Ethan turned to me.

“My Darling Girl,” he cooed.

Without looking, I knew he was talking to me. All the chatter stopped. Everything stopped, except the pulse of each vampire’s individual power signature against my skin and Patrick’s power as a constant undercurrent through all of them.

“Don’t call me that,” I snarled. A silent peace overtook me and filled my being, washing over me like a soothing salve. My mind focused, clear and free from pain. I raised my eyes slowly to meet Ethan’s.

Patrick gasped as the emptiness filling my being pushed past me and into him.

Ethan reached his hand underneath my armpit and lifted me up onto my feet with one hand. “Patrick, please cut her bindings.”

I didn’t like that glint of expectation in Ethan’s eyes one bit.

Patrick stepped behind me and cut the plastic ties around my wrists first. He hesitated a moment as his fingers intertwined with mine briefly before he pulled away. He tugged at the plastic ties around my ankles. They snapped, releasing some of the tension around my ankles and hips, as the knife cut through the thick plastic. My hips cried out with relief as I spread my legs apart and relieved the pressure from my joints. I stood on my own two feet, a bit wobbly, but still on my own.

Ethan released my arm.

Patrick slid something solid, slim, and cold into the back pocket of my jeans before coming back around.

I lifted my wrists and rubbed my irritated skin with the palms of my hand. I looked down at my red and screaming wrists and turned my eyes up slightly beneath my lashes to catch a moment of Patrick’s intense gaze.

“There, that’s better now,” Ethan said with a smile in his voice. He stepped back from me, just out of reach.

“Ya think?” I snapped, dropping my hands to my side.

“Such fight in this one,” he cooed, as if I were a prize thoroughbred in his stables to be broken. “We could do wonderful things together, you and I. With my position and your power, no one could stop us,” he said softly.

My skin crawled at his tone. “I’m not doing shit with you,” I spat out, shoving my shoulders back to let him see the ferocity in the glare of my one good eye.

Ethan stepped back with an appalled look on his face, as if I’d offended him. Too bad. “You haven’t even heard my proposal,” he said hesitantly. He even sounded as if I’d hurt his feelings. He ran his eyes over me from head to toe in an evaluating glare.

“Do I need to?” I asked, sarcasm and defiance dripping from my voice as I slammed my right hand down on my hip. I angled my palm just a little closer to the weapon Patrick had stashed in my jeans’ back pocket.

Ethan took a step closer to me and brushed his hand lightly across my jaw as if I were breakable. I think I’d proven I could take a beating. I was anything but fragile.

His fingers trailed down my neck as he said, “In my proposal, you live.”

“By whose standards,” I retorted with hatred. His fingers trailed the chill of death down my neck and shoulder. A spark surged through me as he ran his fingers along the tender spot where Patrick sank his teeth into my soft flesh. Ethan yanked his fingers back from my neck like he’d been shocked. Fury and betrayal lit his eyes as his gaze left the minute, already translucent marks that Patrick had left at the base of my shoulder.

“You stupid whore,” he spat out at me in a flash of sudden anger. “You corrupted the only one of them that was precious to me,” Ethan shouted. His hand came crashing down against my cheek like an anvil through plate glass and knocked me off my feet by the force of the blow. My mouth filled with blood again. I tried not to swallow. If I were going to die, better quick by a bunch of vampires than slow and tortured. So I spit. “You took the blood oath,” Ethan snarled behind me. “You shouldn’t have been able to keep this from me, you ungrateful bastard.”

“The arrangement that Dahlia and I have has nothing to do with you,” Patrick spat back.

“You’ve contaminated her. She’s no good to me now. I can’t mark her,” he said. A growl rose in Ethan’s throat as he said softly to himself, “or, it seems, override yours.”

A hush settled over the vampires, so thick it felt oppressive. The longer it continued, the more the push of power between Ethan and Patrick grew.

I got to my feet, unsteady and still weak. I wasn’t sure how much more blood I could lose before it became a real problem.

“Seize her,” Ethan ordered softly, venom in his raspy voice. The Ebony Goddess pushed off the wall along with two others from either end of the line and stepped up to me with long confident strides.

Patrick stayed motionless, his eyes locked on Ethan’s. Whatever was going on, I could feel Patrick’s cool, even power start to wrap around the sharp chill of Ethan’s. Two pairs of hands grabbed my arms and yanked me back as the Ebony Goddess struck me again.

Jesus, didn’t I look like I’d had enough?

Blood pounded in my skull. My eyes clouded and my mind fogged over for a brief moment before I was able to focus on her stunning face again. I didn’t want the last thing I saw to be this bitch’s face.

“Enough of this,” Ethan roared with authority as he waved Patrick off. The yellow-haired woman from the club clasped Patrick’s arm firmly and pulled him back to the wall. She looked up at Patrick and communicated a silent message with her eyes. What that message was, I couldn’t tell.

Watching her with her cute little hands on Patrick’s arm made my blood boil and brought my attention back to the rage I needed to survive. Jealousy, like rage, was a wonderful thing. A small smile crept across Patrick’s full lips as his eyes met mine.

Asshole!

“Candace, you wanted her blood,” Ethan said with a snarl as he looked back at me with pleasure.