02 Blood Roses - Blackthorn (7 page)

Chapter Seven

T
he wind whipped against the side of the building, whistling through the gaps in the window, the chilled air taunting Leila’s skin. Laughter and voices echoed from far beyond, reminding her of a world that carried on without a care of what was going on in the shadows.

A metallic clunk resounded as the door was unlocked. She looked over her shoulder to see Caleb entering the room, only this time he was alone and armed with two empty chairs.

Caleb – the self-proclaimed serryn hunter.

She’d heard of them, read about them. She knew they were as rare as serryns themselves. She also knew how revered they were. Only the select intrepid few even dared to take on serryns. Serryn hunters were brutal, cruel and merciless. They were also the strongest of their kind, both physically and mentally. They had to be. Serryns were renowned for breaking any vampire they chose. But even the most powerful of her kind were known to waver under the prospect of coming up against a true hunter.

And she wasn’t surprised if they were all like him. Caleb was lethal for more reasons than his proclaimed skills.

He locked the dungeon door, crossed the room towards her and planted the chairs a couple of feet away.

Leila braced herself and clenched her hands in their constraints as he stood astride her hips.

‘I’m going to untie you,’ he said, his stern eyes burning into hers. ‘But if you try anything stupid, including attempting to utter one nasty little spell, even a hint of an incantation, I will strap you back down and go and rip your sister’s heart out. Do you understand me?’

She had no doubt he meant every word. She begrudgingly nodded.

He took the key from his back pocket and crouched at her feet. He released her ankles first and then her wrists.

As he took a step back, Leila pulled down her gag and took a deep intake of breath. She sat up too quickly, the blood rushing to her head, tilting her off balance, forcing her to lean back on her arms.

‘Take it easy,’ he said. ‘The sedative will be in your system for a little while longer yet.’

She looked up at him, his green eyes darkened in the shadows as he held out his hand to help her up – a hand that was as steady as his uncompromising gaze.

Ignoring his offer of assistance, she got to her knees. She waited a moment, realised she didn’t have enough balance, and sank back onto her haunches again. She clutched her icy-cold feet and squeezed to try and evoke some circulation as she warily watched him ease into the nearest chair side-on to her.

Having one more go at getting to her feet, she succeeded, relieved both to be standing and off the hard floor. She wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt at some much-needed warmth – another luxury her constraints hadn’t allowed.

He kicked the free chair towards her. ‘Sit down.’

She felt her indignation soar, but she knew the sensible thing right then was to comply. She perched on the edge, her hands clutching either side of the seat as she fought against her shivering, at the indignation of her situation, the fear.

Reaching forward, he placed his hand between her knees and dragged her seat towards him. He leaned back again as he rested his foot on the left rung of her chair. ‘Not exactly dungeon material, are you?’

She released her right hand’s grip on the side of the chair so as not to risk brushing his thigh and instead wrapped her arm protectively across her stomach. She squeezed her knees together so their legs wouldn’t touch. He’d taunted her with his proximity on the terrace, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction again.

She glanced over his shoulder at the open door. Everything in her screamed to make a break for it, but there was no telling where she was or her chances of finding Alisha. Wherever they were it still had to be Blackthorn, and that meant far more vampires than Caleb out there baying for her blood.

Besides, she didn’t stand a hope in hell of outrunning him – and he knew it. Something told her the unlocked door was his way of daring her to try. She lowered her gaze to the floor.

‘Look at me,’ he said.

She closed her eyes for a moment, resentment tearing through her.

‘Look at me or you’ll learn the hard way that I don’t like asking twice.’

She tore her gaze from the floor to glower up into his green eyes.

He smirked. ‘Well, if that isn’t a “fuck you” glare, I don’t what is.’

He couldn’t have been more right, but she ignored the coax. Instead she averted her gaze to the stains beneath the manacles. Stains she had already worked out were blood. Her stomach tightened in contemplation of how recent they were.

It took all her restraint not to demand where Alisha was, if she was okay, but she guessed it was pointless asking him anything.

‘You didn’t seriously think you’d get away with it, did you?’ he asked. ‘Saunter in here and saunter back out again unnoticed?’

She turned her head away and kept her lips closed.

‘I’m talking to you,’ he said.

She sighed with defiant resentment.

In the corner of her eye, she saw him lean forward, hands loose between his thighs, his head tilted towards her. ‘Just to make it clear, I can
make
you talk. It’s a method I’m all too happy to adopt. It just depends how much of your dignity you’d like to retain.’

Begrudgingly, she met his gaze. And as he looked at her as though he could tear her apart without cause, it wasn’t just fear that overwhelmed her – the injustice of his judgement infuriated her.

But for now she was alive. This time he had come in unarmed. A conversation was required and one she had to participate in whether she liked it or not. ‘Where’s my sister?’

He leaned back again. ‘With Jake. Probably intoxicated by now but happily oblivious to any of this. He’s keeping a watchful eye. And there are a couple keeping a watchful eye on him – just in case.’

‘In case of what?’

‘Let’s neither of us be naïve. You’re a serryn. Jake’s a vampire. Isn’t there some kind of serryn lore against what you did tonight?’

She hated the word coming from his lips. She hated the way he made it sound real. ‘I came here as an interpreter, not a serryn.’

‘Is that right?’

‘I did what you asked.’

‘But so far I’ve only got your word for that, haven’t I?’

She frowned. ‘You saw me do it.’

‘You seemed to do it. But I also know how very effectively holding spells can be used to get you witches out of tight spots.’

Her heart leapt. It hadn’t even crossed her mind. ‘You think I did some kind of trick?’

‘At dawn, we’ll know, won’t we?’

Dawn. Dawn was hours away. It was out of the question. He had to be insane if he planned to hold her there that long. It was unthinkable. ‘You can’t keep me here.’

‘You’ll find I can do whatever I want. You’re in
my
territory now.’

As those dark green eyes glinted, she knew that was only too true. Just as she now knew why she was still alive – if she had done a holding spell and he killed her, Jake died with her.

Ironically his suspicion appeared to be her current salvation and she wasn’t stupid enough to argue to the contrary. ‘How did you know what I am?’

‘I’ve met enough. And the fact it takes something a hell of a lot more powerful than a regular witch to do what you did tonight.’

‘So you had your suspicions even before I came. But you still brought me here?’

‘I had no choice.’

‘And you accuse
me
of being stupid or reckless?’

She could tell from the narrowing of his eyes that he didn’t appreciate the jibe. She glanced at his blood-smattered shirt from Tay’s execution – reminder enough to stay smart. She warily looked back into glossy green eyes assessing her pensively, attentively reading her every reaction, her every expression. And she begrudgingly struggled under the intimidation of those beautiful eyes so dark in the shadowy room, his black hair untamed over his thick, straight eyebrows. She was back where she was the first time she saw him – that instinctive, deep sense of desire washing over her again, consuming her; something innately, intensely sexual awakening despite her fear.

She clenched her hands, irritated and bewildered by her attraction to him. It was impossible for a serryn to find a vampire attractive. They were inherently immune to their charms. But more than that, he stood for everything she despised. Everything she had learned since a child to despise. But equally she knew she would have to be dead on the inside not to see his appeal.

She stared at the floor. It was pointless arguing with him. And argue with him she would if death or torture were imminent. But seemingly they weren’t. As her teeth chattered from more than the cold, she clenched her jaw.

‘So,’ he said, ‘how can Alisha not know what you are? Because unless she’s a remarkable actress, she really is clueless about you.’

Her gaze snapped back to his. ‘You said something to her? You said she was oblivious.’

‘She is. For now.’

Her heart pounded. ‘Your problem is with me, not her. Let her go.’

‘In case you haven’t noticed, our siblings are somewhat enraptured by each other. I don’t think she’s planning to go anywhere.’

Leila narrowed her eyes. ‘If you hurt her…’

‘You’re hardly in a position to be making threats, are you, serryn?’

‘You have no right to do this to us. I came here to help.’

‘Which, of course, you would have done willingly if your sister hadn’t been in the equation.’

‘Just as I’d be dead or sold already if your brother wasn’t in the equation?’

His eyes glimmered in the moonlight. ‘So how does she not know?’

‘Because there’s no need for her to know,’ she said. ‘And you owe me not to tell her.’

‘I thought we’d established I might not owe you anything yet.’

This time she wouldn’t break away. This time she stared right back into those penetrating green eyes. ‘Believe what you want. At dawn, you’ll see.’

After a couple of seconds, Caleb stood. He forced a knee between hers, kicking her thighs apart as he stepped between them.

Leila recoiled, clutching either side of the seat. She leaned back to break the intimacy as he gently caught her jaw, forcing her to meet his stony gaze.

‘You’d better hope so,’ he said. ‘Because I’ve got you exactly where I want you. You and your little sister. Just you remember that.’

He held her gaze for a moment longer before stepping away.

Leila caught her breath, still clutching the chair as she watched him saunter across to the door.

She expected him to slam and lock it behind him, but instead he left it wide open – an invitation, an instruction, for her to follow.

Chapter Eight

L
eila couldn’t move at first. The door that should have been a symbol of open arms suddenly became a looming threat, the dungeon paradoxically morphing into her security net. But as silence beckoned from beyond, she pulled herself from the chair and stepped warily over the threshold.

Clutching the architrave, she scanned the tiny, windowless room. It was bare aside from a single chair secured to the floor. Directly opposite was another open door. She crossed the concrete floor, her bare feet too numb to detect the change from stone to wood.

The office was generous in size but enticingly snug with its mahogany floor and furniture, complemented by dark green leather sofas in the middle of the room. An impressive desk sat at an angle in the top right-hand corner ahead. Above it, secured to the wall, was a sword, unmistakably the one Caleb had been wielding.

Central to the wall ahead, an arc of monitors, five screens high and at least twenty across, was a dominating feature. A broad black leather chair rested off-angle where the workstation bowed inwards.

As she stepped further into the room, she was instantly drawn to Caleb stood in the open doorway to her left, shoulder against the doorframe.

She could hear the distant monotonous beat of bass music beyond, a clear indication they were still in the same four walls of the club. Hopefully Alisha was too.

She stepped past the sofas, scanning the arc of monitors as she passed – monitors that showed every angle and recess of the club. Images rebounded back at her in all their colourful but silent glory: the dance floor, the bar, the entrance, booths, further rooms, corridors, stairwells. Some people were dancing, some talking, some entwined within each other, some in small clustered groups, some wandering alone.

As she approached, Caleb stood upright and backed into the corridor.

He could be leading her back to Alisha, or leading her to somewhere even less pleasant than the dungeon. Whatever his plans, she knew she had no choice but to follow.

He led her along the stone corridor and through the first set of double doors. The now sealed fire exit to her right showed her exactly where they were, and, more than likely, where they were going. Only this time, instead of being accompanied by Hade and his sidekicks, she was being escorted by Caleb himself.

Padding silently alongside him, the circulation returning painfully to her feet, she tried to not be unsettled by the easy nonchalance of his strides. Alone with a loose serryn by his side, he should have at least shown some anxiety, should have at least felt a little unnerved by her, but she knew his composure was no act. It was the exact same composure he’d had when he’d pumped a syringe full of her blood into one of his own. She wondered just how many serryns he’d killed and how he’d managed to survive. More so, how the hell she’d been so unlucky to collide with him in the first place. Blackthorn was crawling with vampires. Her sister had to choose one whose brother hunted her kind for money. And sport.

Caleb pulled open the next door and let her through first again, doing the same with the second and then the third set of doors. She tried to focus on the way ahead and not the broadness of his shoulders or the perfection of that lean, clearly athletic body.

Pushing through the last set of doors, he opened the single one at the end of the corridor and held it for Leila to enter the stairwell. The chasm suddenly felt colder, darker and even more threatening than it had a few hours before – a time when she was sure she must have been too numbed by worry for Alisha to register her own fear fully. She stared into the darkness above before looking across at Caleb.

‘After you,’ he said, indicating towards the steps.

The act of chivalry unnerved her and she hovered awkwardly in the deathly silence. ‘My eyes haven’t adjusted. I’ll follow you.’

‘They’ll adjust soon enough,’ he said, cocking his head towards the steps as instruction for her to move.

It could have been deemed a trivial concern, but every instinct screamed that having a vampire follow her up a dark stairwell wasn’t exactly the most self-defensive move. But with no option but to concede, she clutched the metal handrail and climbed the concrete stairs. Every step felt laborious, her legs heavy. She knew it had a lot to do with the sedative, but more so it was the knowledge Caleb’s eyes were scorching into her from behind. She wondered how much of it had been done to purposefully taunt her, or whether it had merely been a strategic move in case she lost her balance and fell.

Arriving at the top, Caleb reached past her to pull open the door. As his cold hand touched hers for a split second, Leila withdrew hers immediately from the momentary intimacy.

She stepped into the hallway and followed him into the open elevator to the left.

She leaned back against the wall as the elevator doors slid shut. Clutching the handrail behind her, she lowered her head.

The ascension made her realise just how ill she felt, the subtle movement curdling her stomach. She had stopped shivering but the light-headedness took over and her legs started to tremble.

She glanced up at Caleb from beneath her eyelashes only to see him gazing blatantly back at her. The directness made her falter and lower her gaze to the floor again.

The elevator doors opened and Caleb indicated for her to step out first before leading the way down the familiar hallway back towards the penthouse.

Leila took his cue to step inside first and was relieved to find the lounge empty – empty of any other vampires at least. But her chest clenched with disappointment at not seeing Alisha.

As Caleb sauntered down the three broad steps, the reality of her situation hit her hard and fast – maybe because the initial shock was wearing off, or maybe because the suppressive effect of the sedative was finally evaporating from her system. Whatever the reason, as she hovered on the top step and looked out at the terrace, she remembered exactly what had led to her waking up strapped to the dungeon floor.

He could have done anything to her in the interim. Anything could have happened in the time she’d lost. Anything at all. And she wouldn’t have a clue. He could have already lined up potential buyers if it was his intent to make a profit rather than kill her. She could have been surrounded by them bartering over her unconscious body. For all she knew he had already taken her blood once and tested it, the incident with Tay in fact just for her benefit.

Queasiness engulfed her. ‘I need the bathroom,’ she declared with more urgency than she’d intended.

‘First door on the right,’ he said, indicating to the hallway which she now knew led to Jake’s room.

She didn’t look back as she hurried down the steps. Shoving open the bathroom door, she burst inside and slammed it behind her. She scanned the expansive room. It was bigger than both their kitchen and lounge together at home, clinical with its black marble floors and tiled walls. She hurried across to the toilet directly opposite. She reached it just in time, the sudden pain in her stomach, the acid in her throat, the cold perspiration sweeping over her only just giving her enough warning she was going to be sick.

Tears accompanied her vomit until she had nothing left to extract. Reaching for some tissue, she wiped her mouth, flushed the toilet and leaned back against the wall. She pulled her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, the heated floor a small comfort in the passing minutes.

She should have just told him in the dungeon that he was wrong. She should have looked him in the eye and assured him that she hadn’t done a holding spell, but his doubt over her word was the only thing keeping her alive. Her and Alisha. If she surrendered that information, she surrendered her leverage. Caleb would be free to do what he wanted and she couldn’t afford him that power.

But there was that chance, a small chance that Alisha was right – that he would stand true to his word.

And let go of the species that he clearly despised? The species he had no pity or remorse for?

And how was she to explain and then prove she was a serryn in blood and in name but nothing else?

And admit how dangerously unprepared she was? Something she had never had reason to regret before. Something she never thought she’d regret.

It had been two days after her seventeenth birthday when her grandfather had introduced her to Beatrice. There were questions he couldn’t answer that she could – answers he felt more befitting from her.

They’d traipsed into the centre of Midtown and up to the third floor of what would have once been the attic of the Victorian house. It was dim and dusty, the walls concealed behind stacks of books and papers.

‘You’re not what I expected,’ Beatrice had said, her dark wrinkled eyes furrowed on Leila. She’d poured a cup of tea and handed it to Leila in a fine china cup and saucer. ‘But you won’t be what they expect either – and therein lies your greatest advantage.’

Leila had accepted the cup though she’d never drunk tea in her life. Beatrice was an acquaintance of her grandfather, an elderly woman, and for both of these reasons Leila would treat her hospitality with gracious gratitude despite her reluctance to be there.

Beatrice was eighty-four. She was the only known surviving sibling of a serryn. Her sister had died over thirty years before at the age of forty-three – an extremely impressive age for a serryn, by all accounts. If Beatrice was anything to go by, her sister had been an attractive woman. Tall, curvaceous and elegant, her taut black skin was flawless other than the wrinkles that gathered around her eyes and mouth. Her large brown eyes were intelligent, quick, enquiring.

‘You have a lot of books,’ Leila had remarked for want of something, anything to say other than what she had been taken there to discuss.

‘Do you like reading, Leila?’

‘I love it. I’d like to own a bookstore one day.’

An awkward silence had filled the air, one she could still feel now just remembering it.

‘Carmen had dreams of becoming an architect,’ Beatrice had said. ‘Buildings were her passion. But free choice is not an option for those of the heritage, Leila.’

Leila had looked up into her dark brown eyes. The urge to challenge her had been overwhelming, but she’d forced herself to remember her manners. She was there to listen, not to talk.

‘It sits uncomfortably with you, does it not?’ Beatrice had added. ‘What you are?’

‘How can it not?’

‘Your grandfather has spoken to me of your internal struggles. I empathise. It took my sister years to come to terms with what she was.’

Leila had said nothing as she took another sip of tea.

‘None of you choose this, Leila. I know it’s hard. No prospect of marriage, children an impossibility, as is a normal job. It’s a difficult future to accept when you are so young. Some of you embrace it more readily than others. But with fight integral to your very nature, having your destiny chosen for you doesn’t sit easily with any of you, I know.’

‘Well, destiny can do whatever she wants. I have my own plans.’

Beatrice smiled. ‘A fighter indeed.’ Her smile had waned. ‘And I have no doubt that the tragedy you have suffered has made you stronger.’

Her grandfather had told her not to speak to anyone of that night. Clearly that hadn’t included Beatrice. But if Beatrice had wanted expulsion of Leila’s inner turmoil, she was going to be bitterly disappointed. ‘Things happen.’

‘Indeed,’ was all she had said before they’d fallen to silence again. ‘I know it may not feel like it now, but it will help you when the time comes.’

‘What will?’

‘The rage. Especially as it is so well suppressed.’

Leila had narrowed her eyes. ‘If you’re about to tell me everything happens for a purpose, Miss Charn, then I fervently request you don’t.’

She had almost smiled as she’d taken a steady intake of breath. ‘That’s what I’m talking about.’ She’d leaned forward to place her cup on the table, her eyes not moving from Leila’s the whole time. ‘And those eyes. I’ve never seen such depth. You may be even more powerful than your grandfather believes.’

Leila had stood up and placed her cup on the table. She’d stepped away, folding her arms as she stopped in front of a glass cabinet of books.

‘Leila,’ Beatrice had said softly, as she’d stepped up alongside her.

But as she’d reached out to touch her arm, Leila had pulled away. ‘I don’t want to be having this conversation, Miss Charn. I didn’t even want to come here, but I did because it is what my grandfather wanted. I will read my books and I will study hard. I will know everything that needs to be known for me to be a good and effective interpreter. I will learn those prophecies inside out. But I am never, ever, pursuing the serryn part of me. I am never going anywhere near one of those things, and I will never let one of those things anywhere near me. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it’s going to be. And nothing is going to persuade me otherwise.’

Now as Leila sat enclosed in the vampires’ bathroom, the declaration seemed sheer idiocy.

She should have known she wasn’t going to be able to hide from it. Not forever.

She pulled herself to her feet, a little too quickly, and pressed her hand to the wall to steady herself. She stepped over to one of the two basins.

She might be untrained, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t play it smart. And that meant no outbursts, no being argumentative and no proclaiming her beliefs. She had to stay unthreatening, calm and compliant. At least until she came up with a plan.

For a while at least, he needed her alive. She had until dawn. It was a temporary reprieve. It would give her time – time to think, time to work out what the hell she was going to do. Her and Alisha were okay for now. That was the main thing.

She washed her hands thoroughly. Scooping mouthfuls of water to rinse her arid mouth, she rid herself of the acidic aftertaste. She opened the cupboard beside the sink and searched for some toothpaste to freshen her mouth. She found it at the same time as finding the toiletry bag on the middle shelf. She reached for it and took it out.

It was Alisha’s – vibrant pink and emblazoned with a picture of a diamante-encrusted kitten. It was a few years old. She and Sophie had bought it for her one Christmas as a joke against her appallingly girly taste. She’d never thought Alisha had kept it. And there, in the vampires’ apartment, she’d kept a little piece of them. She’d kept a little piece of home.