The Vault (A Farm Novel) (13 page)

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked, hand pressed to her chest like she was offended.

“The point of this room, stocked with all the things that delight humans. The foods we love. The entertainments we’ve been missing. What if I wanted a blow job? What if that’s what I needed to really relax me? Would you get a girl in here to give me one of those? Because I’m guessing that hormone release tastes really good in the blood.”

Her smile turned a bit cruel. “True. But it’s even better if you care about the person giving it, and I didn’t sense that you feel that way about either of these two. But shall I give you a few minutes alone?”

“No thank you. If you’re going to drain me, you’ll have to take blood that’s drenched in anger and adrenaline.”

I half expected her to be offended, but again she laughed, deeply amused by my outburst.

“Of course I’m not going to drain you. Silly boy! Why would I do that when I have every intention of keeping you around for quite some time.”

“What’s your point?”

“I have so many points.” Still smiling, she ran her tongue over her needle-sharp incisors. Then she cackled. “I’ve never been able to resist a good pun!” She dropped her hand and turned away from me. “Wordplay is such fun, don’t you agree?”

“Excuse me?”

“Banter? Witty conversation? Repartee?” She gave a disappointed sigh. “Oh dear. I was so hoping that you’d be clever. You seemed to be with all those questions about Central America.”

“I’m not an idiot, if that’s what you mean.” Though, frankly, I was starting to feel like one. Where the hell was she going with all this?

“Oh, no. Of course not. People with your traits tend to be far above average intelligence. But you can’t blame me for hoping for something a little bit more”—she tipped her head to the side, considering—“refined. Urbane even. My current
abductura
is so focused on accruing tremendous power and wealth. He’s always blah, blah, blah, strategy. Blah, blah, blah, global positioning. Do those things interest you?”

She sent me an odd, piercing stare that gave me the impression she could see into my very soul.

“Money?” she asked. “Wealth? Political power? The fate of nations?” She paused again, than waved her hand in a give-it-to-me-straight gesture. “Any interest at all?”

I shook my head.

“Good,” she snapped. “It gets so very dull. I really miss decent conversation. But I suppose you can’t all be Oscar Wilde. Now there was an
abductura
all the other vampires envied.”

She kept prattling on, but my mind was stuck on that one stunning revelation. She knew I was an
abductura
.

MEL

Just inside the door, Sebastian sways on his feet. I lunge for him, dropping both the head and the blade to catch him in my arms. He’s a deadweight against me. I can feel him trying to get his feet under him, but they don’t seem to be working.

“You shouldn’t have come out.” Fear makes my words harsh. “It was too much for you!”

“What was I supposed to do?” he asks, his words slurring. “Let them pull you to shreds? Besides, your dog was throwing himself at the door. I thought he was going to break the thing down trying to get to you.”

I don’t argue. I want to say that I didn’t need him, but clearly I did. Clearly I can’t do any of this on my own. Besides, when Sebastian left the safety of the house, he didn’t let Chuy out. If he had, Chuy would have thrown himself into the mix and been taken down by one of the Ticks. Sebastian may be a jerk, but for some reason, he saved Chuy’s life. Even though I keep saying I don’t like dogs, I’m thankful.

Instead of mentioning that aloud, I say, “Let’s just get downstairs.”

There’s another troop of Ticks hitting the door. The whole doorframe seems to shake.

“I hope you’re right about this house being as strong as a bomb shelter.”

“I hope I’m right about the blood.”

“Yes. That, too,” I agree.

Trying not to drop Sebastian, I lean down to grab a handful of hair. I can’t think about the grisly package I’m carrying or about the butchered hand tucked into my pocket. I can only shove aside my emotions and put one foot in front of the other. I can’t fail. I can’t lose Sebastian. I can’t let either of us starve.

In the basement, I leave Sebastian leaning against the workbench. I leave Chuy to watch Sebastian and go back up to the kitchen to find food for the dog, too. If we’re going into this safe room, I don’t know how long we’ll be there and Chuy has to be hungry by now. Roberto’s kitchen is well stocked with human food—for his valet presumably. I grab an armful of canned meat and stew and grab a can opener as well. I wrap it up in a towel to make it easier to carry and head back down to the basement.

“Head first or hand?” I ask after I’ve set my bundle down on the workbench.

“Hand first. At least on my system. The palm print pulls up the retinal file.”

I pull the hand from my pocket, but before I can place it against the touch screen, Sebastian stops me.

“Warm it up.”

“What?”

“It . . . body temperature.”

“Oh.” Cringing, I rub the hand between mine. It’s clammy and awful, but I do it anyway. This isn’t the worst thing I’ve done as a vampire. When I press the hand to the pad, the machine makes a series of beeps and then an unhappy blurk.

“Again,” Sebastian says.

“I know, I know.” I rub more this time, massaging the fingers between mine, trying to get warmth into dead flesh. I press the palm to the pad again and this time all the beeps are happy.

“Now the head. Open the eye first. But be fast.”

I make myself look at Roberto’s head. His eyelid is almost closed. I have to practically pry it open and then I hold up the head, feeling like Perseus with Medusa.

The retinal scanner casts laser red crosshairs over his face. My heart is pounding and my hands are trembling so much I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold it still long enough. I grab the head on either side and hold it closer to my body, which puts it right in front of my face.

There are more beeps. Another blurk. And finally the happy beeps and the sound of a lock releasing.

The door swings open as the sound of breaking glass echoes through the house. I look back over my shoulder to see Sebastian pushing off from the workbench. He can barely walk, but he’s holding the bundle of food for the dog.

I start to reach for him, but he gasps out, “Don’t let the door close. And bring Roberto. We might need him later.”

I hold open the door and step aside for him to hobble through. Chuy files in after him. I hear more breaking glass followed by several loud thuds.

“I thought you said the house was impenetrable.”

He shrugged. “Nothing lasts forever.”

I give one last look at the basement, refusing to consider how we will get out of here when the time comes, and let the door slam shut behind me.

CARTER

For a long moment, my mind just reeled. Being an
abductura
was the one advantage I had. The one ace up my sleeve. Now that she knew, was I completely screwed?

“How’d you know?” I asked stupidly, my mind still pedaling to catch up. Dawn and Darren exchanged nervous looks and I saw Dawn take a step closer to her brother.

Sabrina’s too-plump lips curved into a smile that made her look vaguely catlike as she slithered closer to me. “I think the better question is why you thought I wouldn’t know. I know you’re young, so I’ll go easy on you.” She grasped my jaw in her hand and twisted my face so I had to look at her. “Do not underestimate me merely because I’m a woman.”

I tried to jerk my head away from her, but her hold was so tight the action only wrenched my muscles.

“There you go again. Making the mistake of seeing me first as a woman and forgetting that I am also a vampire.” Her fingers bit into the soft tissue of my face, scraping the inside of my mouth against my teeth. I could almost feel the bruises forming and could taste the blood seeping into my mouth. “Sebastian knew you were an
abductura
. If he sensed it, did you really think I would not?”

“No,” I choked out. “I didn’t think—”

I broke off when she jerked me even closer, pulling me down so our faces were mere inches apart. And then she sniffed my breath. It took me a second, and then it hit me. The blood in my mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed as she savored the scent of my blood on my exhalation.

Her grasp on my face loosened, but she snaked an arm around my neck and kissed me.

It was a kiss only in the loosest meaning of the word. Her mouth was covering mine. Her tongue was in my mouth. But there was nothing sexual about it. Nothing sensual or erotic. Just her tongue stroking the inside of my cheeks. Harvesting the tiny drops of blood.

Then, abruptly, she pushed me away. I stumbled back, tripping over the ottoman of the sectional sofa before I caught myself. I was just glad I hadn’t landed flat on my ass.

Sabrina took a big step back, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth as she watched me, and I got the distinct impression she had to fight to control her blood lust.

She must have won that battle, because after a moment she wiped at the corners of her mouth with her fingertip, the way some women do when fixing their lipstick, and she said crisply, “You’re correct. Your blood tastes like fear and sorrow. Hardly even worth drinking.”

I couldn’t tell if I should take that as a compliment or an insult.

“I’m not going to apologize for being a bad meal.”

I tried to make that sound like a smartass quip. I also tried to hide the fact that I was practically shaking.

Because, yeah, I had underestimated her. She looked older and feminine. She was tall, but so thin she seemed delicate. In reality, there was nothing delicate about this woman. There was nothing weak. Nothing fragile.

The fact that I’d let myself forget, even for a moment, that she was a bloodsucking monster, that she was stronger and fiercer than I was, that she was a remorseless predator . . . well, that mistake was all on me.

“I had higher hopes for you,” she said, almost sadly. Then she turned her gleaming gaze on Dawn and Darren. “Perhaps one of your companions will be more . . . obliging.” She waved a hand to gesture the Freezer over.

“Yes, m’lady?”

“Bring me the girl.”

The Freezer gestured behind him and another pair of Muscles came in and grabbed Dawn and Darren. Dawn was faster than she looked. She tried to duck under the Freezer’s arm, but he managed to snag her hand and gave it a sharp twist and spun her around. She yelped, dropping to her knees as he yanked her arm up behind her.

I lunged for them. “Let her go!”

He did and she dropped to the ground, cradling her arm, but then the Freezer shoved a palm to my chest. It was like being hit in the sternum with a log. I flew backward, the air knocked right out of my lungs, and everything went black.

*  *

I don’t know how long I was out, but when I woke up I was sprawled out on the sofa, alone. No sign of Dawn or Darren or the Freezer. Even Sabrina, the wackadoodle queen of the damned, was nowhere in sight.

Wincing, I rubbed my sternum, which I hoped the Freezer hadn’t cracked. If Sabrina was going to drain me, I didn’t want to make it any easier on her. But maybe that’s what the Freezer actually was. A can opener.

I was still struggling to suck air into my lungs when I heard noises from the other room. I pushed an elbow under me and tried to sit up, despite the aching in my chest.

I sucked in a deep breath and was hit with the unexpected scent of . . . was that fresh-baked cookies? Christ, had I had a stroke?

That was the medical condition that made you smell things that weren’t there, right? Or maybe a brain tumor? I inhaled again. The cookie smell was still there.

I sat up, swung my legs down to the floor, and rested my head in my palms.

“Oh good, you’re up.”

I came to my feet and spun around—too quickly. I felt my head wobble and had to lean against the sofa. And then I squeezed my eyes closed and pried them open again, convinced I wasn’t really seeing what I seemed to be really seeing.

Sabrina was walking toward me from whatever room lay beyond that door. She was no longer dressed in her slinky black leather. Now she wore high-heeled black boots, jeans, and a tank top. And an apron.

Not like a white, blood-splattered butcher’s apron. That I could have wrapped my brain around. No, she wore a kitschy little housewife’s apron. It was bright red with white and pink blossoms and a frilly white trim.

As she got closer, I realized she was carrying a plate of cookies. She set the cookies on the coffee table and came around to stand just a few inches away.

She studied me, her head tilted just to the side, her gaze perfectly sane. Perfectly reasonable. Not at all bat-shit crazy.

“Did he hurt you?” she asked, her eyes searching my face with apparently genuine concern. “I’ll have to discuss that with him. I’m afraid Mr. Marek tends to be very protective. As any good leader is.” Her lips twisted into a charmed smile. “As you are.”

For a second, I just flat-out didn’t know what to say. Finally, I burst out, “What the hell?”

She blinked as if surprised, then tilted her head back and laughed. Not the crazed, psyco-bitch laugh of earlier, but a genuine laugh. A little husky, a little bit embarrassed.

Then she noticed I wasn’t laughing along with her. She sat, looking chagrined, and patted the sofa beside her.

There was no way I was sitting down with her, but I couldn’t exactly refuse, either. Instead, I sidled down to the end of the sofa and twisted so that when I sat, no part of my back was to her.

She noticed that and nodded like it was no more or less than what she expected. “Would you like a cookie?”

“I’d like to know where my people are.”

“They’re fine. I had them removed.” Then she hastily added, “To another room. They are perfectly safe and being well cared for.”

Yeah. And I’d believe that when I saw it with my own eyes.

Or maybe I wouldn’t, because my own eyes seemed to be messing with me right now. I mean, this had to be a hallucination, right?

Aloud, I said nothing, because when you’re having a psychotic break in the presence of a predator, you don’t exactly want to advertise it.

She continued, “I’m sure you understand that being a woman in my position requires . . .” She seemed to be searching for the right word. “A certain amount of awareness about perceptions and appearances.”

She paused, arching her eyebrows like she was waiting for me to respond.

“Okay,” I said slowly.

“A certain amount of showmanship is essential for maintaining power. You understand, I am sure.”

“Showmanship?” I asked. “That’s what that was? When you threaten to eat one of my people?”

She waved a hand. Her nails still flashed bright red, but the gesture carried with it a whiff of vanilla.

“Oh, no. That wasn’t showmanship. I was referring to the clothes. The blood licking. The cackling. That is showmanship. I’m merely conforming to people’s expectations. No, the threat to eat Dawn was a test.”

“A test?”

“Yes.” She frowned. “I’m sorry I had to do it, but it was absolutely necessary.”

“A test?” I said again, sounding more clueless than I wanted to. “You threatened to eat my friend as a test? For me?”

Sabrina leaned forward reassuringly. “Dawn was never in any danger. I want you to know that.”

“Except for when the Freezer nearly broke her arm twisting it behind her back.”

“The Freezer? Oh, you mean Mr. Marek? No, I assure you Mr. Marek is quite skilled. She was never really in harm’s way.” Sabrina paused to gesture toward the plate. “Did you want a cookie?”

“No.”

“Mr. Marek assures me they’re quite good. Are you sure you won’t have one?”

“Quite sure.”

She almost looked disappointed, but smiled faintly. “I’m going to assume that Sebastian has been his normal uncommunicative self and hasn’t told you much about your gift.”

“I know enough.”

“I doubt that. I was an
abductura
my entire human life and I never felt like I knew enough.” For a second, her gaze drifted away and she looked both pensive and nostalgic. Then she offered me a bracing smile and said, “Did you know, for example, that your powers will always be strongest when you’re unable to physically act yourself? The less you are able to carry out your own will, the more sway you will have over others. And every
abductura
is slightly different. Some are extremely powerful, some less so, but the one thing they all have in common is that their powers vary depending on their motivations. Some are motivated by greed. Some by the desire to nurture others. Or by the need for power or control.” She pierced me with a look. “Are you going to ask me what I think motivates you?”

“Am I supposed to care what you think?”

“You’re motivated by the need to protect others. I mentioned money and power, but you barely blinked. I was starting to doubt you had any power at all, despite Mr. Marek’s very excellent instincts. But then I threatened dear Dawn and you lit right up.”

“Huh.” I gave a grunt without meaning to.

Sabrina was right. There was a lot I didn’t know about being an
abductura
. About this power I had. And if I trusted her more, she might be a person I could learn from.

She scooted closer on the sofa and reached out a hand to pat my knee. “I am so very sorry,” she said softly, “for everything you’ve been through these past months. As driven as you are to protect people, things must have been unbearable for you since the Before. To make matters worse, you’ve been with Sebastian.”

Her voice took on a note of exasperation. Something in my expression must have given me away, because she smiled ruefully.

“Don’t forget I was his
abductura
once, too. I know how he works. The way he manipulates people. The way he isolates you from others. That way he has of telling you you’re special and making you feel worthless all at the same time. Even now, even after all he’s done, part of you still trusts him. You still believe that if you return to him, he’ll get you out of this.” She slanted an assessing look at me and her lips twisted into a bitter smile filled with regret. “He’s like that, isn’t he? He argues with you just enough to make you believe that you’ve convinced him to do something, when it was really his idea all along. That’s what he did with you, isn’t it? With this rebellion of yours. He made you think it was your idea, but it’s still gotten him exactly what he wanted.”

Shock raced through me. Was that what he’d done?

No. The rebellion had been my idea. My plan. Sebastian had been against it from the beginning.

Or had he?

I wasn’t sure anymore and talking to Sabrina was only making it worse. And I wanted a cookie, damn it.

Not that I was going to take one from her, but still it had been a long time since I’d had a fresh-baked chocolate chip cookie.

“You shouldn’t feel bad about it,” she continued. “Sebastian may not have any powers of his own as an
abductura
, but he’s been alive a very long time. That’s what two thousand years of life gets you, I suppose. The most advanced degree in human psychology ever. He is a genius when it comes to understanding people and he’s even better at getting them to do what he wants.”

That’s when I gave in and reached for the cookie.

Damn, it was good. The best cookie I’d ever had. Still warm from the oven. Gooey and sweet. And there was a whole plate of them. And no one here to eat them but me.

I put the cookie down and nudged the plate away. “I didn’t come here for a therapy session. If you want to get into my head, you’re going to have to work a little harder than that.”

“I’m not trying to”—she made air quotes with her fingers—“get into your head. Not all vampires are as bad as Sebastian. I’m just apologizing. For baiting you like I did. You understand why I did it, though, don’t you? You understand that I had to do it. I had to know how strong you were. I had to know what kinds of things would motivate you. If you weren’t strong enough, or if your motives and mine were at cross purposes, this entire endeavor would fail.”

Suddenly I got it. Everything she’d done since I’d gotten here—every weird affectation, every eccentricity, maybe even the blood thing—had been her way of taking my measure. Like some elaborate, interactive Rorschach inkblot test. She hadn’t merely been trying to figure out whether or not I was an
abductura
, she needed to know if I could do the job she needed me to do.

“So this was all just some sort of audition?”

“Exactly. And you passed. With flying colors.”

An audition? All the creepiness? The blood licking, the threatening, the weirdness . . . she’d been testing me. “What do you want from me?”

“The question isn’t what I want from you,” she said simply. “It’s what we want from one another.”

“What makes you think I want something from you?”