Legally Undead (17 page)

In an instant, the veneer of civility, of humanity, was gone, and I was forcibly reminded that this was no ordinary gathering. I took a step back from her and came up against Greg, who had moved up behind me.

“This one’s mine,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder possessively. I flinched, but didn’t move away from him. I was willing to let him protect me until I got out of this freak show.

The other vampire drew a long breath and visibly got her anger under control. I saw her look first at the bandage on my shoulder and then back up at Greg’s face. Great. She thought I was a member of the Blood Donation Brigade.

“Then you should keep her on a shorter leash,” she said, nostrils flaring.

“I think that perhaps you should sit back down, Elle.” Greg spoke to me, but his eyes never left the woman’s face. This was clearly some weird vampire dominance ritual, and there were undertones to it that I couldn’t exactly read. What I could see, though, was the way that strange vibrating energy increased, not only in Greg and his opponent, but in all the vampires who were now standing around us watching the show.

Suddenly the woman laughed—a strangely girlish sound coming after such a display of ferocity—and the tension evaporated so quickly that I could hardly believe it had ever been there.

“You’re not ready to challenge me, young one,” she said to Greg. “Go ahead and take your little pet away. But don’t let her out in public again unless you restrain her.” She waved her hand dismissively and turned back to her group of friends. I heard one of her companions mutter something to her, and she said, “Oh, let it be, Angelica; the newly turned have no sense of propriety. We must give them time to adjust.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding.

Greg gripped the top of my arm tightly and virtually dragged me back to our table.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he hissed.

“No. I’m trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing here in the middle of this Creature Feature. Who are these people? Why are they here? And where is Malcolm?” I whispered just as fiercely as Greg had.

That, of course, was the moment that Deirdre showed up again.

“Oh, my. I hate it when my guests are unhappy,” she said, scrunching her mouth up into a little moue of sympathy. I didn’t believe it for a minute.

“Good. Take me to Malcolm and let me take him home. Then I’ll be happy.”

“Take him home?” Deirdre raised her eyebrows and looked at Greg. “Was that part of the agreement?”

“No,” said Greg, “it wasn’t. I just promised to bring her to Malcolm.”

“I see. I couldn’t imagine that you would presume to speak for me; I’m glad to know I was right. Well, then, dearest,” she said, addressing herself to me again, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to bargain with
me
if you want to take your friend back home with you.” Her lips curved up into a little half-smile. On anyone else the smile would have been enchanting. On her, it was perfectly blood-curdling.

“What do you mean by ‘bargain’?” I asked suspiciously.

Deirdre laughed—the sort of laugh that under other circumstances might have been described as seductive. “Let’s wait until you’ve seen your friend and then we can talk business.”

I didn’t like the sound of that.

But I still didn’t have any choice; there were far too many vampires here for me to fight alone. And I wasn’t getting any backup. So I followed Deirdre out of the room.

She led us down the marble staircase this time. Since the ballroom was on the ground level, I assumed that she was leading us to some sort of basement level. Actually, she led us past the first basement level, which had perfectly normal-looking doors—two of them were even marked “Ladies” and “Gentlemen”—and down to a second basement level.

I trailed along behind Deirdre, hoping that I could trust Greg to watch my back but not really counting on it. I ended up doing a sort of sideways step down the stairs that enabled me to see both vampires in our little group and still keep my back to the wall.

This wasn’t the sort of creepy dungeon staircase I’d seen in countless horror movies. It was white marble with an obviously modern railing—light and airy. The chandelier on the first floor dangled just above the stairway and shined its light into all the nooks and crannies.

The bottom step ended in the middle of a long, burgundy-carpeted corridor stretching to the left and right and lined with numbered doors. Some of the doors were standing open, others were closed. It looked like an upscale hotel, of all things. There was even a cleaning cart in front of one of the open doors.

But it sounded like a down-scale brothel. I could hear people moaning behind the closed doors. I couldn’t tell if the sounds were of pleasure or of pain, but either way, I didn’t want to listen to them.

Deirdre turned to the left. As we passed the rooms, I caught hints of murmured conversations, low laughter, and more than a few screams. The screams made me wince.

We walked all the way to the end of the hall and Deirdre pulled a key out from between her breasts. She caught my look and said, “I don’t want it to be too easy to get to, pet.” Then she turned the key in the lock and opened the door on one of the most horrible scenes I could ever have imagined.

Chapter 15

Malcolm’s completely naked body hung from chains against the back wall. His knees sagged so that his arms, stretched to their utmost, took most of his weight. His head drooped to one side. His eyes were closed; he didn’t try to see who had entered the room. I wasn’t sure he was even conscious.

The bed in the middle of the room was a tangle of sheets and blankets, all smeared with old bloodstains. The carpet under Malcolm’s body was also darkened with blood.

Worst of all were the wounds. His entire body was covered in bite marks. Big purple bruises spread out from the worst of them, painful looking quarter-inch puncture wounds, white and ragged around the edges. Several wounds ringed his nipples, another one punctured either side of his bellybutton. There was one particularly livid mark on his neck and what looked like the edges of another one on his inner thigh, though I couldn’t see it well enough to tell how bad it actually was. His wrists had been rubbed raw by the shackles holding him, and underneath the chains he was pale.

Instinctively, I started toward him, but Deirdre gestured and a vampire I hadn’t seen stepped out from the shadows beside the door. That hiding in the shadows business was about to get on my nerves. He was a huge black man, probably the biggest man I’d ever seen. He was bald and shirtless, dressed only in khaki pants, and his muscular upper body gleamed in the reflected light. If he’d been human, I would have said he was beautiful. As it was, he was just scary. He grabbed my arms, pinning them to my side and effectively holding me in place, though I continued to struggle against him.

“Oh,” I breathed out in a long, drawn-out syllable. “Deirdre, you godforsaken bitch. Unchain him right now, or I swear to you—”

“If I were you, I’d be careful what I swore to right now, princess,” she interrupted me, speaking lightly. “It might come back to haunt you.” She lifted her head in that scenting motion that all vampires seem to use when they’re searching for whatever information it is they get from smells.

Whatever it was she detected in the air made her look thoughtful. She cocked her head to one side and looked at me thoughtfully.

“You haven’t yet had sex with this man. I’m surprised,” she said. She sniffed the air again and this time looked quizzical. “And yet you desire him.”

Greg growled at that, a growl that was animalistic, more like a sound an angry dog would make than a sound that might come from a person. Wonderful. My dead ex didn’t like the idea that I might actually consider having sex with someone else.

“My sex life is none of your business,” I ground out through my clenched teeth. “Neither of you. Now let me go to him, dammit.”

She flicked her fingers at the vampire holding me, and he released his grip. I sprinted across the room and wedged myself up against Malcolm’s side, trying to hold him up to take the strain off his arms. A low moan escaped his lips and he shook his head slowly. After a second I realized that he was saying “no” over and over.

“Shh. It’s okay, Malcolm. Everything is going to be just fine,” I whispered. “I promise you, I’ll get you out of here. Whatever it takes. I promise.”

He opened his eyes a crack and turned his head toward me. “Elle?” he whispered. “Oh, God, Elle. Get out of here. You don’t know what they do—”

“Shh. It’s okay. Don’t talk. We’ll get out of here together. You can tell me everything later.” I brushed his hair back from his forehead and he leaned into my hand. His eyes closed and he sagged against me.

I looked up at Deirdre, who had watched all of this from the open doorway with a satisfied smirk. Greg stood beside her, his expression unreadable. I had no idea what I could possibly offer in return for Malcolm’s release, but I knew I had to try.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s deal.” My voice had gone hard.

“Oh, Gregory,” she said, turning to him. “You were right. She is absolutely delightful!” She sounded as excited as teenager who had been given a car for her birthday.

I turned my glare on him. “You set me up.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it setting you up.”

“You never cared about the papers at all, did you?”

He smiled and shrugged. “I just gave you enough rope to hang yourself with. No pun intended.” He smirked as he gestured toward Malcolm’s dangling body and it was all I could do not to go for a stake and run him through.

I took a deep breath.
Greg doesn’t matter
, I told myself.
The only thing I have to worry about is getting Malcolm out of here
.

I turned back to Deirdre. “You’ve had your fun. Let’s start by taking him down from the wall—consider it a sign of good faith on your part. And I’ll hand over the crucifix in return.” I paused. “Well, maybe not hand it over, since you couldn’t touch it. But I’ll put it away somewhere of your choice.”

“No need for that,” Deirdre said. “Louis?” She nodded to the black vampire and he stepped out into the hall. No one said anything while he was gone; we just stared at one another as I tried to take Malcolm’s weight off his arms.

After a long, silent interval, he returned with another servant, this one a manifestly human Asian girl with bobbed hair. She carried a tray like the ones the wait staff upstairs had used to serve drinks.

“Put the crucifix on the tray. As soon as you have done so, Louis will unchain your friend and place him on the bed.”

“How do I know I can trust you to actually unchain him?”

Deirdre sighed and rolled her eyes. “Very well. If you feel it necessary, you may place the crucifix on the tray at the same moment that Louis unlocks the final cuff.”

“Fine.” I said.

When Louis unlocked the first cuff, Malcolm’s arm dropped to his side with an audible thwack. I strained to keep him upright. “Be careful!” I snapped.

Louis stepped in close to Malcolm and grabbed him around the waist with one hand in order to catch his limp body when it fell from the chains.

I watched Louis closely and, with the hand I wasn’t using to support Malcolm from behind his back, placed the cross on the tray just as he finished unlocking the manacle on Malcolm’s right wrist. But I didn’t take my hand entirely off of the crucifix until Louis had Malcolm slung over his shoulder and was carrying him toward the bed. The Asian girl scurried out of the room.

Once Malcolm was stretched out on the bed, I turned to Louis. “Bring me some wet washcloths and a bowl of warm water.” He looked at Deirdre for confirmation and she waved her hand at him. She did far too much imperious hand waving, I decided. It made me like her even less.

“And a glass of cold water,” I called after Louis as he left the room.

“Satisfied?” Deirdre asked.

“It’s a start.” I sat down on the bed and continued stroking Malcolm’s hair away from his forehead. He moaned again but settled back down when I whispered quietly to him.

“Then we may begin. Gregory, please pull those chairs over here.”

Louis returned and handed me the washcloths, bowl, and glass while Greg was pulling three wingback chairs out of a corner of the room. He arranged the chairs in a semi-circle and stepped back for Deirdre to choose one. Then he sat down in the other. Louis retreated to the corner he’d been standing in when we’d arrived.

“We can begin after I’ve finished with Malcolm,” I said. I didn’t plan to take long, but I wanted a moment to clean out the worst of his wounds. I wished I had Tony’s medical kit with me. I would have liked to run hydrogen peroxide over the lacerations. And I wanted to spread about a pound of antibiotic ointment over his body.

I had to settle for swabbing the wounds with washcloths soaked in the warm water Louis had brought. Malcolm winced and moaned as I gently dabbed at the blood encrusting the edges of the worst wounds. I murmured softly to him, not really paying attention to my words. I think the tone of my voice soothed him, because he quit moaning. He didn’t quit wincing, though, and I found myself wincing in sympathy. These injuries had to hurt like hell.

Deirdre watched my ministrations interestedly, showing no signs of impatience other than that internal vibrating. Greg, on the other hand, tapped his foot on the carpet restlessly. I wondered if her ability to wait me out as compared to his foot-tapping fidgeting had something to do with their relative ages. I guessed that vampires probably learned patience over time, especially since they had all the time in world. Literally.

I worked my way down the front of Malcolm’s body, cleaning his neck, his chest, and his stomach. I paused for just a second before gently spreading his legs to take a better look at the bruise on his inner thigh.

The wound there was bad, maybe even worse than the one on his neck. It wasn’t just two puncture wounds, either. It looked like maybe several vampires had gone at him in this spot, or maybe one vampire over and over. He cried out in pain and fear when I touched it, so I contented myself with squeezing warm water out of the cloth to run over it. The sheet under him turned a muddy reddish-brown as the blood washed away from the ragged edges of the holes.