Vintage Soul (27 page)

His oily smile became a toothy grin.

“Oh, they're still around,” he said.
 
“I have them very close by, in fact.
 
You'd think I'd be angry with them after breaking in here unannounced and trying to disrupt my plans, but I'm a generous man.
 
I have a surprise for them, a treat they wouldn't get anywhere else.
 
I'm going to share some of what I was just talking about with them.”

Vanessa thought hard, trying to remember what he'd said.

“The sunlight,” he said casually.
 
“I'm going to give them the first sight of the morning sun they've had in quite some time.
 
I can't imagine when the last time you saw that was – what are you, three, four centuries old?
 
But these others…they remember.
 
It hasn't been so long since all the pleasures of life were ripped away from them and dangled like carrots on a string, just out of reach.
 
I haven't spoken with them about it, but I would be willing to bet they remember what it's like to greet the sunrise.
 
I bet they even remember well enough to miss it. “

“Where…” She couldn't finish the question.
 
She'd felt the touch of dawn once since her transformation.
 
It had burned much hotter than any fire she recalled from life, and had nearly ended her existence.
 
She remembered, and she hoped with sudden clarity that her memory, and her sudden flash of terror, wouldn't transfer to Vein across their bond.
 
Better that he not know what awaited.

Her captor stepped close to her again, placed his hands on her cheeks and gazed into her eyes.

“They will only get to see it once, of course,” he said softly.
 
“I'm certain I'll have to have a cleaning crew in for the elevator once it's done.”

Vanessa gritted her teeth and strained against her bonds in frustration.
 
He stroked her cheeks, and then his hands slid down to the metal band around her throat.
 
She tried to glance down at his hands, but she couldn't see what he was doing.

“Don't worry, “he said, leaning in to whisper in her ear.
 
“It won't take long.
 
I'm sure they'll be brave and not cower in the back of that elevator.
 
I'm sure they won't try to cling to the ceiling like bats, clawing their way over one another to the back corners, out of the light.
 
I'm sure they'll stand and face the light like warriors.”

Vanessa began to tremble, but she fought it.
 
She didn't want him to see her lose control, not in anger, and certainly not in fear.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I wondered when you'd get to that,” he replied.
 
“This is a very special day for you.
 
I put a lot of time and effort into this room, and into your restraints.
 
This collar, for instance, is more than it appears to be.”

He fumbled with something in the center of the metal band, but she still couldn't see what he was doing.
 
There was a soft click, like a button being depressed, or a spring releasing.
  
He saw that she didn't understand, so he leaned in again.
 
This time he lowered his head so his lips were even with the metal band.
 

Vanessa felt a cool breeze on the skin of her throat.
 
It should not have been possible, circled as she was in steel, but she felt it all the same.
 
Her eyes widened.

He raised his head and met her gaze.
 
She tried desperately in that second to reach out to him with her mind.
 
She could do it, had done it a thousand times.
 
She found some nerve; some cord buried deep in a man's thoughts, twisted it, and used it to draw him to her.
 
She reached out and, just for a second, as their eyes locked, she felt something.
 
She concentrated her will, but he shook his head, as if to clear cobwebs, and stepped back.

“Amazing,” he said.
 
“I would have thought you were too weak for that, and that I was too well blocked.
 
You are strong.”

He returned to the bed and picked something up.
 
Vanessa squirmed in her bonds and tried to see what it was, but he kept it blocked from her view with his body until he stood before her once more.

“I'm going to enjoy this very much,” he told her.
 
He held up a long, slender tube.
 
It was made of metal, and apparently coated in silver.
 
Vanessa shuddered and drew back.
 
He paid no attention to her.
 
Instead, he returned to the bed again, and this time he brought back a length of plastic tubing, and a flask.
  
A final trip to the bed, and he was ready.

He held up the silver tube again, and as she watched he slid the end of the plastic tubing over one end of the metal.
 
Next he placed the other end in the neck of the large flask and placed this on the floor beneath Vanessa's manacled feet.
 
He straightened, slid his hand into his pocket, and retrieved a round, black piece of rubber.
 
Vanessa didn't know what it was, but the fear had built within her once more, and her mind thoughts dove inward, seeking some place deep, safe place to hide.

He tapped a finger on the center of the tube.

“It's really a very simple device,” he said.
 
“There's a hole at both ends and a third opening here in the center.
 
When I slide this pump over the center,” he poked the tube into one end of the black rubber circle and it slid through, protruding now from either end, “it forms a primitive siphon.”

He squeezed the rubber ball.
 
The plastic tube jumped as air, drawn through the tube, was forced down toward the flask below.
 
It was then that she noticed the tip of the tube.
 
It was hollow, like the end that had been inserted into the plastic tube, but it was also cut at a wicked, forty-five degree angle.
 
It came to a sharp point at the tip, and then angled back.
 

“Who are you?” she asked.

“That isn't important anymore,” he said softly.
 
“Very soon all that you are will be a part of me.
 
Very soon your blood – or should I say, the blood you have borrowed for so long – will be mine.
 
All of it.
 
You will cease to exist, and your worries over the “young ones” as you call them, and over old Johndrow, will be at an end.
 
You will no longer hunger, and you will no longer lust.
 
You will be mine in the truest sense those words have ever been spoken.”

He slid the end of the tube into the hole in the center of the band of steel.
 
Vanessa screamed then.
 
She screamed and she spat, and she tried desperately to struggle, but it made no difference.
 
The cold, hard silver tube slid through the collar neatly and pressed against the soft skin of her throat – then pierced her cleanly.
 
Transfixed, she tried to catch his gaze and make him pull it out, but she could not.
 
He stood very still, watching her as she hung there, back arched against the stone wall, eyes rolling back like those of a mad animal.
 
Then, without another word, he began to very slowly squeeze the rubber ball.

He didn't hurry.
 
At first the blood flowed erratically, but the even pumping motion of his hand squeezing that black rubber ball took on the mesmerizing rhythm of a heartbeat.
 
She heard it as her thoughts grew fuzzy.
 
She recognized it, though it had been more than three centuries since she'd felt such a pulse through her own veins.
 
She tried to scream again.
 
She fought up through the thickening darkness that engulfed her mind, but it was too hard.
 
Her limbs were heavy and hung limp in their bonds.
 
Her eyelids fluttered, drooped, snapped open, and then finally closed.

She felt his fingers on her cheek again, stroking her.
 
He played with her hair, and she thought he was whispering something.
 
She tried to hear it, and to understand the words, but she couldn't wrap her tired mind around the task.
 
The words had the same rhythm as the pulse she felt, and that grew weaker each second.
 
She felt cold as she had never felt.
 
Ice seemed to coat her skin, which was suddenly very thin and brittle.

She thought about Johndrow.
 
For a moment, with her eyes closed, she imagined it was his touch on her cheek, though she knew it was not.
 
She knew what was happening to her, but no longer had the strength to even think about it.
 
The irony of it struck her, though.
 
She knew how Preston Johndrow would have coveted a drop or two of the blood flowing so freely from her – something he could preserve in a bottle of Merlot, or perhaps a smooth cognac, to be shared at some point, far in the future.

Then even these thoughts faded, and she grew very still.

On the wall, across the room, a colored crystal glowed brightly, then faded, and then glowed again.
 
Looking up from his work, Vanessa's captor caught the signal, and smiled.
 
He watched the end of the plastic tube carefully.
 
The flow had slowed to a very thin trickle.
 
He gave a last squeeze, and then let the rubber expand in his hand.
 
There was a last dribble, and he heard a soft hiss.

He turned to the wall. What hung from the manacles and the collar was a husk.
 
Dry, paper-thin skin coated brittle bones.
 
Where Vanessa's beautiful eyes had reached out to snare him, black pits gaped.
 
A quick swipe of his hand would have reduced her remnant to a pile of ash, but there was no time.

He quickly
stoppered
the bottle and stowed his equipment in the bag.
 
The vial he wrapped carefully in two layers of satin before placing it in the bag, as well.
 
Then he turned toward the doorway, and exited the room, leaving it open behind him.

Once in the hall, he didn't go far.
 
He rounded the corner and pressed a button on the wall when he reached the end.
 
The wall slid aside, and he stared into the elevator compartment.
 
Vein and the others were crouched near him, staring at the far wall, where the glass window overlooked the city.
 
The night was fading, and they must have sensed the approach of dawn.
 
When they heard the panel slide open, they whirled.
 
He watched them with detached curiosity.

Vein stepped up to the window.
 
He didn't try to break through – it was pointless, and the silver mesh imbedded in the glass would have sliced him to ribbons if, by some impossible chance, he found a way to fracture the glass.

“Where is Vanessa?” Vein asked.
 
There was a tremble in his voice, not exactly fear, but close.
 
“I felt…something.
 
Where have you taken her?”

Their captor didn't answer them.
 
He set the bag he carried on the ground at his feet.
   
He opened it carefully and pulled out the satin-wrapped flask.
 
Without a word he unwound the satin and held it up so that the blood glistened in the dim light of the hallway.

Vein's features melted through emotions, starting with shock and ending in rage.
 
All pretenses at calm forgotten, he slammed into the glass.
 
The elevator shook from the force, and he reared back, slamming into it again.
 
The others gripped his arms, but he flung them aside, crashing into the barrier with more and more force.
 
All the while his tormenter stood very still, holding the flask of blood in his hand reverently.
  
Finally, with a supreme effort, Bruno and Shade managed to pin Vein's arms, and Kali wrapped her arms around him from behind, holding him away from the glass.
 
It was smeared with his blood, and though the cuts were healing fast, the gory remnant remained.

Cradling the flask carefully, their tormentor laughed softly.
 
“Very touching,” he said.
 
“Such a moment we're having.
 
Say goodbye to her.
 
I wish I could tell you she was going to a better place or that her spirit would rest, but I don't know that for certain.
 
I know where this is going,” he held up the blood, “but that won't matter to you for very long.
 
Can you feel it?
 
The sun?
 
It will rise in less than an hour, and it won't be much longer after that when it reaches this side of the building.