Successors (14 page)

She wasn’t sure what he meant by “hello,” but his smile was too broad to be just friendly and she wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.

She raised her spray bottle cleaner at him. “This is acid. It’ll burn you.”

He examined the bottle. “Looks like Windex.”

“I’m trained in self-defense, I could hurt you.” She planted her feet.

“I doubt that,” he said smugly, losing most of his smile.

“I’ve killed before,” she said, trying to sound maniacal.

“I don’t doubt
that
, but no, you can’t hurt me.” His Scottish accent became more pronounced as his bravado increased.

“I’m stronger than I look,” she said.

“So am I. Not nearly as strong in this form, but still… far stronger than you.” He took a step closer to her and she squirted her Windex. The blue stream fell laughably short. He took a few more quick steps and she squirted his shirt. He paused to examine it. “It stinks, I don’t like it.”

He took the last two steps he needed to pull the bottle from her hand. He read the faded label and laughed at her. He tossed the bottle back on her cart and his eyes took her in from feet to face. His reddish-brown eyes locked onto her, and winked a set of black lashes that had no right to be worn by a man.

Keeping her eyes on him, she searched her cart for something to defend herself with. He saw the movement, but he bit back his smile. “Oh, please no, not the Ajax.” He laughed at his joke just as she found the object of her search.

She pulled the screwdriver from her cart and stabbed it into his chest low enough that she wouldn’t get his heart. She didn’t want to repeat her mistake of two days ago either.

She grabbed the walkie-talkie off the cart—that Danato had given her that morning in case she ran into any trouble—and ran to the elevator. She dove back into the lift and pushed the button for the main floor. Regardless of her finger-bruising pressure on the "door close" button, the doors closed painfully slowly.

“Danato, Danato!” she yelled into the walkie-talkie, pressing and repressing the button to make sure it had in fact been pressed.

“Missy, what is it?” His voice came over the antiquated equipment distinctly.

“I got the wrong floor. There was a man or something out of his cage. He came at me, threatened me. I stabbed him with a screwdriver and ran,” Cori ranted, huddling on the floor of the elevator.

“Which floor?” Danato asked.

“Two,” she said.

“The animals?”

“No, elevator two. You guys really need to change the rosters!”

“Elevator two? A man? Tall, dark complexion, with hairy arms?”

“Yes, yes!”

Danato sighed. “Oh, Missy.”

“Don’t, ‘Oh Missy’ me. I’m supposed to call if I need help. Well, I’m calling. Help me!”

“Yes, good; I’m glad you called.” He calmed his voice that much more, no doubt hoping to calm her as well. “You did the right thing. Listen to me very carefully.” Danato paused. “Go back to the elevator second floor and give the man you stabbed the walkie-talkie.”

“What? He threatened me!”

She heard Danato clear his throat. “He… what exactly did he say?”

Cori opened her mouth to retell the offensive story. “He said… hello.” She beat the walkie-talkie against her head. “He did come at me though.”

“I see. Did he try to grab you, or was he just approaching?”

“He… was… just… coming toward me. I didn’t like it,” Cori added, in hopes of rationalizing her reaction.

“I know, sweetheart. It’s okay, just go back and give him the walkie-talkie.
Don’t
stab him again.”

She growled, “Going.” She crawled back to the controls and slammed her hand on the number two button. She stood up and waited for the doors to open. When they did, she saw the man still lying on the floor.

She approached him slowly. “Hello,” she said.

He looked up and put his hands up, “Whoa, easy girl.”

She danced around him a bit, not sure how to approach him. “I’m supposed to give you the radio.” He put out his hand. She gave it to him and jumped back.

“Danato?” the man asked into the device.

“Vince, are you alright?” Danato asked over the line.

“Yeah, little minx got me between the ribs, but she didn’t puncture my lung.”

Cori crossed her arms and observed the conversation at a good distance.

“She got the drop on you?” Danato asked with levity in his voice.

“Oh, she’s good. She’s cute too.” Vince winked at her, which prompted her to shift her position back another few feet and cross her arms.

“Do you want me to send for the doctor?” Danato asked.

“No, a stitch will do it."

“Good.” Danato clicked off.

Vince slid the walkie-talkie back to her and she picked it up. She rushed back to her cart and shoved it toward the elevator.

“Aren’t you going to stay and help me get stitched up?” Vince called after her.

“No, I have work to do.” She put a little more speed in her step.

“He won’t mind. I’m one of his best inmates.”

“If you’re an inmate, why aren’t you in a cage?” She waved to the cages on either side.

“I’ll tell you, but you have to stay and patch me up. My ride doesn’t leave until tonight; I’m really bored.”

She kept rolling her cart.

“I’ll answer any questions you want about this place.”

She stopped. “Anything?”

“Anything I know, which is a lot.”

She turned back. His wide smile returned

24

“Ouch.” Cori poked the needle through Vince’s skin roughly. “Not so rough, I’m still a man right now.” Vince was sprawled on the bed in his cell, which was more like a dorm room. He had pictures hung and small furnishings. Not to mention it wasn't locked.

She knelt on the floor beside him playing nursemaid, albeit not very well. “What are you usually?” She glanced up furtively from her stitching.

“I’m usually a man, but for a few days a month I’m the not-so-better half of my werewolf self.”

“Is that what the big cages are for?” she asked, tying a knot in her stitch.

“We all get two cages, one small for when we are human, and one big one for when we are full werewolves.”

She smiled as she cut the excess thread. “So, I got the drop on a werewolf. Not so tough, then.”

“Careful,” Vince warned with a smile. “Werewolves have notoriously large egos. I will prove myself if provoked.”

“What would you prove?” she scoffed, tossing her suture needle back in the small first-aid kit she took from her cart.

“That I can win.”

“Win at what?” she asked.

“Anything, everything. Strength, speed, agility.”

She looked him over, seeing a possible ally in her plan to escape her captivity. “How strong are you?” she asked enticingly as she traced her finger from the stab wound up his chest through a patch of soft dark hair.

He glanced down at her finger. “Strong enough to resist an amateur seducer.” She pulled her hands away and fidgeted before finding a spot in her lap for them. “Besides, you don’t have to seduce me to get your answers. Just tell me what you want to know.”

“How do I get out of here?” she asked without a prologue.

Vince chuckled. “I can tell you anything but that.”

“Then we’re done here.” She closed the lid on her first-aid kit and stood. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to sit on the edge of his bed.

“I’ll tell you, just not yet.”

“When?" she asked.

“Not soon, but I will tell you how to leave here.”

She wasn’t satisfied with that, but he was a friend of Danato’s, so she couldn’t expect an outright betrayal from him. “What
can
you tell me?” she asked.

“My name.” He arched an eyebrow.

“I already heard Danato say it.”

“And…?” he prompted.

“Nice to meet you, Vince.” She stood up again, but he didn’t release her hand.

“And?” he said.

“What?”

He smiled, licking one of his canines. “And what is your name?”

“Everyone calls me Missy.”

“That’s not your name, though.” Vince caressed her wrist with his finger. She glanced down at the intimacy, but fought the instinct to rip her hand away. As innocent as the flirtation was, it made her feel claustrophobic. As if sensing her discomfort, his hand slipped away.

She crossed her arms, tucking her hands tightly to her body. “That’s what they call me.” She shrugged.

His eyes flickered over her as he brewed his thought. After a pause, he sat up and pulled his t-shirt back on. “Let’s go for a walk,” he said, offering her the lead out of the cell.

“Where?” she asked suspiciously.

“To find your name.” He placed his hand on her back and gently pressed her forward out the door. He continued to usher her into the elevator and pushed the letter B.

When the doors opened on the basement level, she tucked herself against the back wall. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

“It’s okay.” With very little effort, he pulled her hand from its tucked position and laced his fingers between hers. “Nothing down here can hurt me.” He winked and headed out with her in tow.

“I was more concerned about me,” she sniped. She dragged against him intending to make a stand against his presumptuous plots, but her braced stance only left her stumbling after him. She could see that he wasn’t being egotistical about his strength, but factual.

For the first time, she saw the infamous pale sickly creatures that lived in the basement cells. After Ethan's incident with them on his tour, Danato refused to bring her down to see them.

The double-sided hissing and snarling creatures left her whipping her head back and forth to see who the greatest threat was. “I’ve never been down here.” She tried to pull her hand from his, but his grip showed no sign of flexing. She may as well have been in handcuffs. “It’s not safe,” she whined.

“You’re with me,” he said flatly as if that should have made all the difference.

“Danato will be mad.” She yanked his arm as hard as she could.

“I can handle Danato.” He stopped and turned around. “Will you stop dragging your feet?” He pulled her forward, forcing her to bump right into him chest to chest. “You know it won’t do any good.” He towered over her, his reddish-brown eyes smiling even when his lips weren’t.

“I don’t want you to think I’m consenting to this,” she fumed.

“I think it’s implied. Now, pick up your feet or I’ll carry you.”

She started walking normally, but she lagged behind as much as their arms’ lengths allowed. When they entered the next section, she saw more creatures expose their slobbering fangs. Several started rattling and humping their cell doors. More fearful of them than her guide, she closed the gap between their bodies.

Near the end of the section he stopped abruptly, and she bumped into him. “Okay, we're here.”

“Where?” Cori saw no distinction between this cage and the twenty others they had just passed.

“Cleos? Are you awake?”

“Yes,” said a voice from the darkened cell.

“I have something for you.” Vince pulled her hand toward the cell.

“What? No!” She fought back. She hit him with her free fist and bit the hand that had her bound. He grabbed a fistful of her hair for leverage and pulled her mouth off him. "Let me go!"

He kept her head tethered and pulled her against him. “Don’t bite. Werewolves don’t like that,” he scolded firmly. “Well, sometimes,” he amended before presenting her hand to the inmate.

“I don’t like being fed to vampires,” she whimpered.

“He’s not a vampire. He’s a photophobe.”

A cold clammy hand covered hers. She shrieked, but she couldn’t stop the sacrifice. “Please, stop!" she begged. The pain she expected to follow never came. The creepy hand was just resting on hers. "What is he doing?” she panted.

“He’s a reader. Dangerous, but always honest; partly why he’s dangerous.” Vince smiled at his joke, but then lost it suddenly. “But seriously, never do this without me.”

“I don’t want to do it
with
you,” she griped.

“She’s interesting, but what do you want to know?” Cleos asked. His face was still invisible in the darkness of his cell. All she could see were his pale hands and thick almond nails that bordered on feminine.

“Her name,” Vince answered. “The real one, her birth name.”

“Corinthia Ellen Reiger; most would call her Cori.” The reader pulled his hand away.

She was uncomfortable with the ease with which the reader had discovered her name. However, she was more uncomfortable that her neck was still jack-knifed in Vince's grip. “Let go of me,” she said calmly.

“That’s a pretty grown-up name. Much better than Missy.”