A Wicked Night (Creatures of Darkness 2): A Coraline Conwell Novel (18 page)

“Knox is back with the clan?”

Not the outburst she was expecting.

She relaxed. “I’m not sure. Had Knox
left
the clan?”

“For the last fifteen years or so.”

“Why?” She was a little unnerved by the depth of her interest.

Brayden once more turned a suspicious gaze on her. “You don’t know?”

She hadn’t been bonded to Brayden long enough to sense his emotions, but it was clear he thought something in her story wasn’t adding up. Who bonds with a vampire and doesn’t know practically everything about him?

Apparently, she does. Three times over.

“He’s not exactly forthcoming,” she said. Neither was Mace, for that matter. “And our bonding wasn’t exactly…planned. In truth, he doesn’t much care for me.”

Bray appeared confused over that, but didn’t pursue a line of questioning. “And Mace?”

“Also unintentional, but he does care for me.”

“Yet he’s not explained about Knox?”

She shook her head, not about to mention that she’d asked Mace multiple times about Knox, about their animosity and their obvious history. He had never wanted to share.

“So you don’t know about Elizabeth?”

She stiffened at the unfamiliar name and shook her head. That tiny revelation made her ravenous for more, but she stamped it down, not wanting to appear too eager. “Who is she?”

“Who
was
she,” he replied with an air of grievance. “She was their lover?”

Cora was speechless for a long while, trying to decipher his words. Surely she’d misunderstood. “Whose lover?”

“Knox and Mace.”

“I don’t understand. Did one of them steal her from the other? Is that why they hate each other?”

“No. They were all in a relationship,
together
.”

She gaped at him, her jaw refusing to close.

“This is a shock?” Brayden looked as though he wasn’t sure what to make of her reaction.

“I…” She gathered herself enough to ask, “They slept with her? Both of them?”

“I assume so.”

“At the same time?”

“If you mean simultaneously, I don’t know. It’s not exactly polite to ask. However, those types of relationships are not uncommon among vampires. Our lives are exponentially longer than humans. Potentially unending. Monogamy can get a little…grueling, if you can imagine. I assume by your reaction your relationship with them differs?”

“Of course it does. I’ve never slept with Knox.” Not that he hadn’t made it perfectly clear he wanted to, even if he did hate her. Guys could do that—sleep with someone they despised and not think twice about it. She couldn’t imagine sex with Knox being anything but emotionless. Rough and wild, sure, but emotionless…and demeaning. Yes, demeaning. That’s exactly what it would be. Just completely reproachful.

She shivered.

Not at all something she would concede to.

“Got you thinking about it, haven’t I?” Mischief quirked Bray’s lips.

“There is absolutely nothing between Knox and I.”

He splayed his hands. “Alright. I can see this is a sore subject.”

“It’s not sore. It’s not anything. Knox is a jerk, and I would never be with him.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She sniffed. “I’m not upset.” But she was, and she couldn’t understand why. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. We’re in here, and they’re out there.”

“Yes. That’s the way of it for now.”

After an awkward lull, Cora asked nonchalantly, “What happened to Elizabeth?”

“I’m sure I don’t have the full story. All I know is that she was murdered. Mace was with her at the time. He blames himself, and so does Knox. They both took her loss hard. Knox left the clan. Went off on his own. Trent’s been trying to lure him back for some time. Guess he finally succeeded.”

She mulled this over for a minute. Knox and Mace with the same girl? Were they content to share, or was that when their rivalry began? Had they both loved her? Had she loved them? Something like jealousy spiraled through her stomach. She was sure it was only for Mace, picturing him with another, touching her, kissing her…loving her. She gritted her teeth, struggling to banish the image of Mace making love to a faceless woman, but instead, Knox interloped, pushing his way into the tangle of bodies.

She shook her head, repulsed by the train wreck of thoughts.

“Now that I think of it, it’s not surprising to hear of Knox’s aversion to you. He’s a grudge holder, and I think Elizabeth’s murderer was a witch or something. Someone who had grown obsessed with Knox.”

Chilling ripples slithered down her spine. She was barely able to choke out the name, “Sadira?”

“Sounds familiar. Heard she was hell-bent on having him.”

“Still is.”

“Oh?”

“Why wouldn’t Mace have told me? I mean, my goddess, I offered to help the bitch.”

“Help her to do what?”

“Get free. She’d been cursed to some kind of purgatory at the…” Should she mention the cottage? She glanced toward the door.

“No details,” Brayden said. “Not if you think they’re important.” He lowered his voice so that hopefully only she could hear. “Speaking of free, got any ideas for getting us out of here? You sure you’ve got no magic? Isn’t there something you can do?”

Now that she wasn’t battling the horrors of the doctor’s injection, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities. She’d used magic before.

The first time, she had simply thought of what she wanted and it had happened, almost like having a wish come true. She hadn’t planned it. Hadn’t even intended to use magic. It had just come so naturally. And yet, nothing like it had occurred since.

The second time, she had read the step-by-step instructions from a book with a small amount of success. The third had been disastrous, resulting in Sadira’s possession of her body.

To Brayden, she mouthed, “I’ll try,” then raided her memory to see if she could recall something, anything, from the magic books she had begun reading. Most of the spells had seemed superficial. Beginner stuff. There was one, however, that jumped to the forefront of her mind: Access to the Realm of Dreams. She had skimmed over it a couple of times. It involved getting into a meditative state that brought one to the edge of sleep, and a specific chant to propel oneself into the dream realm, which was apparently a thing.

Atop a page in the recesses of her memory, a jumble of letters emerged, but that was all they were. A useless mesh.

Oh, what are the words?

Perhaps she could accomplish the task like she had that very first time.

Feeling a little silly, she tried making a wish. To start, she wished for her bindings to loosen, but they didn’t. Next she wished them gone completely. Still nothing. Finally she wished for her arms to be strong enough to break her restraints. She jerked her arms, but the binds held true.

Her head fell back against the gurney. “I wish I could use magic,” she said aloud.

“Me too,” Brayden replied with a bit of sardonic humor.

She gave him an apologetic look. “I’ll keep trying.”

“Are non-magical witches common?”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I only discovered I was a witch a few months ago.”

He gave her a questioning look.

“In my case, my magic had been suppressed by…another, and bits of my memory stripped.” Unsure if she should go into the details, she decided to leave it there.

“So that’s why you can’t use it?”

Once more she glanced at the door. “Yes,” she replied, and then, with a meaningful expression so as not to inadvertently inform the guards, tried to convey that she actually might be able to utilize her magic.

He didn’t quite seem to grasp her meaning, but still nodded to let her know he understood she was hiding something of significance.

Then, loudly, he said, “Damn. Then you’re no help to me at all.”

Fire stung Mace’s cheek, waking him from a troubled sleep. His dry, grungy eyes cracked open.

“About bloody time,” Knox spat, his hand raised for another slap to Mace’s face.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He shoved Knox away and pulled himself to stand.

“You’ve been out for days.” Knox chucked a bag filled with red liquid at him.

As he caught it he was alerted to his weakened state. The contents of the bag would do nothing to change that, but it would slow his withering.

“Days?” He ripped a hole in the plastic and sucked down a hefty gulp. “God, that tastes like shit.”

“No kidding, you’re bonded. That’s what you get for getting involved with witches.” Years of hatred colored his tone. “I’m going to kill Saraphine when I get out of here.”

“That will do wonders for convincing her and Cora you didn’t murder her grandmother.”

“Fuck them, and fuck you. And just so you know, if I ever see her again, I’m going to kill Cora as well.”

“The fuck you are.” Mace’s fist lashed out and connected with Knox’s jaw.

Knox stumbled back. His expression transformed into a mask of rage. He lunged forward, barreling a broad shoulder into Mace’s stomach. His body was heaved backward and slammed against the solid wall.

Mace’s lungs compressed, the air evacuating much too fast. Not waiting for his breath to return, he hammered his elbow into the sensitive tendon between Knox’s neck and shoulder.

Knox doubled over with pain, proving he was just as low on strength as Mace was. Normally that move would hardly faze him.

With Knox still hunched, Mace planted the flat of his foot on his torso and kicked him away with less force than he could have exerted.

Still, Knox toppled backwards. Then, giving up the fight entirely, he sprawled his arms outward and stared at the ceiling as if basking in the sun.

“At least you still have some strength left,” Knox said. “Thought you were near death.”

“I feel like it.” During the brawl, the blood bag had slipped from Mace’s grasp. He snatched it from the ground where it was slowly leaking out and downed what was left. “What’s been happening while I was out?”

“Aside from that eerie glowing tattoo around your neck, you’re looking at it.”

Mace glanced down, catching the edge of a soft blue-green gleam around his collar. He couldn’t fully see the pattern, but he recalled what it looked like in his reflection; a twining necklace, more like a torque. “Has Saraphine been down?”

“A couple times.”

“Let me guess. Hostile threats did nothing to soften her?”

“If you could keep your ass awake, I wouldn’t have to do all the sweet-talking.”

Mace slid down the wall till his butt met the cool concrete floor. “Whatever this curse is, it’s draining my energy. I can feel it happening even now.”

“Well, aren’t you about as useful as sand in a desert.”

“And you’re about as sharp. If you’re being your usual aggressive self with Saraphine, as I suspect you are, she’ll never let us out of here.”

“How do you know how I’m
being
?”

“Because I know you. Half the time you act like a madman, the other half an unintelligible brute. You and reason go together like tissue paper and battery acid.”

“Your words cut, Mace. Not like knives because you’re really dull, but like a particularly sharp spoon, or some kind of baking utensil.”

After a lengthy stretch of silence, Mace mumbled, “I need my friend back.”

At first Knox made no response, but his body tensed ever so slightly. “Your friend died with Lizza.”

——

Cora hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep till she went in pursuit of a more comfortable position. Her inability to roll over brought her back to consciousness, and reality. Apparently reaching the dream realm had been a bust. Although it was only her first endeavor, discouragement was thick.

Bray seemed to be dozing as well. But, as if he felt her eyes on him, he lifted his head. “Good nap?”

“Unfortunately. But I wasn’t trying to nap,” she replied, allowing the disappointment in her tone to explain the rest. She couldn’t very well tell him she’d been attempting to use magic in case those guards were still listening. “How about you? It can’t be easy to sleep like that? Do they ever allow you to lie down?”

“Oddly enough, my beauty rest is not a priority to them. I manage.”

“You haven’t been standing like that all the time you’ve been here, have you?”

“I have.”

“That’s so cruel.”

“Agreed. If I were human I’d have died long ago. We vampires are a resilient bunch.” His strong physique backed his claim.

“Must be why you look like a linebacker, even after five years of this.”

His puckish smile made her blush. “Admiring the goods, miss…uh?” His expression blanked. “I can’t believe I haven’t asked for your name.”

“It’s Coraline. Cora for short.”

“I might be physically fine, but I’m sure my mind is slipping. I know it’s a little late, but I’m glad to meet you, Cora.” He pushed out a bitter laugh. “I’m glad to meet anybody.”

“You’ve been so very alone.” It wasn’t a question. The bond was already starting to link them. She could sense his loneliness. It was lodged in his bones, his cells, his aura. It peered at her through desolate eyes and sailed out through a weary voice, and like an alien substance, it globed around her heart, making it heavy with unending isolation. His every veiled look, every plaintive word painted a lonely, forsaken picture that matched perfectly with the image of her own dark past. She’d suffered that same heartache. The emptiness. The despair. It bloomed anew, reborn under the dim lights of the mad doctor’s lair.

“I’m going to get us out of here,” Brayden said, so low she could barely hear him, and she wondered if he could sense her own despair. Determination creased between his eyes. “Somehow, I’ll get us out of here.”

Something deep insider—something buried under flagrant cynicism and a history of miserable letdowns—believed him. She couldn’t explain it. The White Knight in her youthful fantasies had long since been slain. She’d never seen herself as a damsel in distress, merely unlucky…seemingly in all things. But his vigorous conviction poured into her and filled her with a kind of hope that she’d never known before.

Not even with Mace.

——

Time started to warp into one unrecognizable clump after the next. Cora couldn’t tell if it was day or evening, Monday or Friday. Guess it really didn’t matter. Not down here. Several more times she attempted to reach the dream realm, hoping that once there, if she did in fact make it, she’d somehow know how to navigate. Would it be a dark and confusing landscape, like that abstract painting that once hung in Winston’s den? Or would her imagination make it into something recognizable? Something tangible.

Would her nightmares be there to greet her?

She may never find out. Without recalling the correct words to chant it seemed like an unachievable task anyway.

The doctor hadn’t returned for her blood in days, so that was something to be grateful for. Meanwhile, she’d learned a little more about Brayden. Having nothing to do but talk made it impossible not to.

Before his capture, he’d lived in St. Stamsworth for only one year, on assignment for the VEA. He wouldn’t elaborate on the specifics of his task, but he’d mingled with the elite, much like she had. In the right clothes, with his scruffy brown hair slicked just so, he could take on the appearance of a privileged playboy. That might have been how Winston, or his cohorts, had found him—Brayden’s cover was that of a wealthy bachelor vampire with no clan or family. Similar, in a way, to Cora’s
actual
situation, without the wealth. Which was probably the point. Who would miss either of them if they went missing?

However, Cora knew better. Bray had a brother named Cortez, owner of a pretty elaborate nightclub slash strip joint, whom she’d met after Mace had been shot in the chest with an acid-filled bullet. Cortez and his men had tended to Mace, saving his life.

When she mentioned Cortez, Bray was stunned.

“You met my brother? How is he?”

“Frightening.”

Bray laughed. “I guess I can see how you’d think that. He can be a real SOB. When we were young boys, I’d have to shove his face in the dirt just to shut him up sometimes. The epitome of a politician’s son. Entitled prick. Always thought he knew everything.” Bray’s gaze turned distant, and his lips curled up into a tiny grin as if calling up fond memories. “Especially now that he can read minds.”

“He can read minds?” Cora asked, astonished. “As in literally?”

Bray nodded. It’s fairly rare, but some vampires develop the talent over time. We don’t know why it happens to some and not others.

Cora filed that information away.

“I bet he’s searching for me too,” Bray said wistfully.

“Well, he might be
now
.” At Bray’s look, she continued. “He thought you were dead as well. Only learned you’d been captured a little over a month ago.”

Bray cursed and rolled his head back on a gruff growl. “Trent never told him?”

Cora shook her head. “I guess not.”

“Wish I could say that’s not surprising, but the two of them don’t get along well.”

“Why is that?”

“Like our father, Cortez is ambitious. Against Trent’s wishes, he left to start his own clan. There’s been nothing but hostility between the two ever since.”

“But you stayed with Trent?”

“I love my brother, but I’d rather not have him bossing me around.”

Cora managed a wistful smile, recalling what little she could of her baby brother. “If I could but see him again, I’d gladly let my brother boss me around. If only a little.”

“You said you had no family.”

“He died an infant alongside my parents.”

“Sorry to hear that. How old were you?”

“Ten,” she replied and then closed the topic with, “How old were you when you were turned?”

“Thirty-five.”

“Were you and Cortez turned at the same time?”

“Within days.” He chuckled. “My brother’s very first act as a vampire was to demand Trent bring me into the fold. Trent should have learned then and there that my brother could not be corralled.”

“And that’s what Trent wants? To coral you?”
And Mace?

“He expects a certain level of obedience, yes. But he’s no tyrant, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Bray visibly tensed as his gaze slipped to the door. A thin silver object whizzed just over Cora’s body. His curse snagged her attention back towards him. A small narrow object protruded from his neck.

“Bray, what’s happening?”

“It’s a tranq. They plan to enter…don’t want me compelling them.” Another dart landed in his side. After a couple breaths, his body slouched and his eyes began to droop.

She heard keys jingling from outside, then a click, and finally the harsh squeaking of rusted metal as the door opened. An orchestra of hammers pounded inside her ribcage.

The guards entered before the doctor, heading straight for her restraints…to undo them!
Oh no!
What now?

“Leave me alone!”

“Sorry, dove,” the doctor said. “We’ve a job to do. Orders. You understand.”

With her legs released, she began to kick, but the men quickly yanked her off the gurney, and her feet were forced to find purchase or she risked falling to her knees and being dragged along the floor.

They gave her little time to get her bearings, shoving her toward Bray. Just as before, they slit his arm and pressed her mouth to the wound. Stubbornly, she clamped her lips shut, but her oxygen supply was obscured by the excessive pressure of their hold, smashing her face to his arm. When she could hold out no longer, she grudgingly relented, sucking down vast mouthfuls of Bray’s blood until they were satisfied.

Then they repeated the process of giving her blood to Bray. He was as ferocious as before, tearing at her flesh in his drug-induced stupor. But some part of him must have recognized what was happening, because when she let out a whimper, he eased up. He even managed to slant a bleary glance at her that made her wonder if he felt sorry for her.