A huge blast of noise assailed the space, coming in a high pitched screech of sound that hurt her eardrums. Jake jerked up instantly, his eyes shot open, his gaze pinning her in place. Her expression probably mirrored his.
“Cassie!”
A moment later, he moved, shoving her behind him. There were slivers of wood and projectiles flying at her. From everywhere. Jacob couldn’t protect her. They were too accurate. A spike of mesh shot out of the cavernous space, swirling open as it flew, drenched with liquid that burned where it touched flesh. It slammed her against the back wall, pinned into immobility, despite how she struggled. Wrenched. Focused. Worked. The more she moved, the worse the netting ate into skin. The hat brim smashed against her face saved it from the acidic effects, but nothing stopped the fire that ate into her bare arms, upper thighs, and bosom. She bit her lip to still the cries, and then got more. Through the lace of her veil and the close weave of net she saw Jacob fall. He landed hard, rolled, and was back on his feet, a thin spike of wood in his shoulder, leeching blood down his arm. Stark naked. And yet still menacing. A moment later and he’d reached her and started yanking at the ropes.
“Ouch! Shit, Baby! What the hell? I can’t—! Damn! I need…a knife!”
His fingers were getting burned. He’d had too much of her fluid. Every time he touched the ropes he jerked back in agony. From behind him she watched the apartment alcove fill with hunters. Thirty. No. More. She quit counting. They all carried crossbows. All aimed directly at her. And then a man stepped to the front, pulling night vision goggles down. He was well formed. As fit as her mate. Dark haired. He kept it closely cropped. Looked near forty. Vaguely familiar.
“Stop that, Mister Walsh, or we’ll have to tie you.”
“Get this off her! Now!”
“That isn’t a
her,
Mister Walsh. May I call you Jacob? That’s an
it
. And the answer to your demand is no. Reggie. Hank. Crux him.”
Two of them approached, carrying a large crucifix that took all their effort to tote. Cassie hissed and narrowed her eyes, and still saw them slam the cross to Jake’s bare torso before the burn cancelled her vision. She slammed her eyes shut, but heard Jake’s howl of pain even as it covered hers.
“Looks like we’re just in time. Sit down, Jacob. Or I’ll force it.”
Something hit the floor. There was a thud. A cry. A bit of rustling noise. And then silence.
“Why do they always want it the hard way? Please remember, Jacob, you were warned.”
“Screw you.”
“Very well. You asked for it.”
Cassandra slit her eyes open, despite heat that seared both eyes. They’d placed the cross in front of her. On its own stand. It was too close. It radiated heat. Waves of it. And it sucked at her, draining her energy. It took an effort of will and some pain to move her eyes beyond it and find Jacob. They’d strapped him to a chair; his feet yanked beneath the seat with how they’d fastened his ankles to his wrists behind him. He was breathing hard, and still raging at them.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Hunters.”
“No shit. I got that part from the weapons and camouflage outfits. What the hell do you want?”
“In time, Jacob. Everything comes to the man who waits, you know.”
Jacob strained against his bonds for a few moments while everyone watched. And then he stopped, heaving for breath. “Damn you! Where’s my security? If you hurt them, I swear I’ll see every one of you persecuted to the fullest extent of the—”
“Calm down. If by security, you mean the three fellows who attempted to stop us, well…let’s just say, the big guy is not going to wake up for some time yet. The other two are pretty much in the same position you are. Tied to their chairs.
In situ
. Only they have clothing on. It’s probably warmer.”
“Are you insane?”
“No. But you’re probably going to think I am before we finish.”
“No thinking needed, asshole.”
“You know, Jacob…can I call you Jake? This is going to be a lot easier if you cooperate and act nice. In a bit it’ll be dawn, and everything will be over. This will all be a really strange dream. You’ll see.”
“What happens at dawn?”
“We’ll untie you. And I’ll even give you some pants.”
“What the hell do you want?”
“Her. Or rather, it.”
“Cassandra? Why? If it’s money you want—”
“Money? Ah. She didn’t tell you her secret. This is rich. Truly.”
“Her…secret?”
Cassandra didn’t have a live heart but whatever was in her breast plummeted to the pit of her belly, anyway. It was more painful than every one of the wires and the crucifix combined.
“Your security detail was already onto it. They’d have been in here with the information before long. That’s how we found her, actually. An IP address doing an internet search. Cassandra Braun. From London. They’ve been at it all night. Gained tons of information. I really love technology, don’t you?”
The leader was walking toward her as he spoke. Jake was straining against his ropes again, turning his skin red. Her eyes burned too much to keep looking. She shut them and hoped the skim of moisture in them would be enough to salve them.
“Ah. There you are. Miss Cassandra Braun. Lovely specimen. Truly…beautiful. I didn’t know that. And then somebody uploaded a drawing of you during their search. Hmm. The artist didn’t do you justice.”
“You touch her, and I’ll kill you!”
Jake snarled it. Despite how it pained, Cassandra opened her eyes. Found him. He’d toppled the chair. One of the fellows hit him with something that looked like a mallet. Jake cried out. He took another hit. Then another.
“Stop. Please?” Cassandra asked.
She shouldn’t have said anything. The leader’s eyes narrowed and then he gave her a wicked-looking smile.
“Oh. This is classic. And so sweet. He’s your mate? Is that what this is about?”
“Please?” she continued, a hint of tears coating the word.
“Gentlemen. Stop.” He turned his back on her and spoke to his men. “Jake isn’t the issue here. We mustn’t be uncivilized. Just put him back upright, and toss some Holy Water on him if he misbehaves again. How much time do we have?”
“Twenty-four minutes.”
“Good.” He turned back to her.
He was about Jake’s height. She’d been wrong on his physique. He wasn’t near as fit as Jacob. Nor as handsome. He really did look familiar. She couldn’t quite decipher why. The Holy Water they’d dipped the net in must be drying. The webbing no longer burned. And if she could just get that cross toppled…
“There’s not much information available on you, Miss Braun. That’s not unusual, but your file is almost nonexistent. You’re very difficult to find. It’s still Miss, isn’t it? You didn’t wed anyone, did you? Yet?”
“No.”
“Good. I really hate making widowers. You know how many Cassandra Brauns are in the record books? Tons. Dozens in England alone. There’s one particular one…with a birthday of 1841. We found that Cassandra Braun very interesting. Born and raised in a parish orphanage. No parents listed. That’s it. There’s nothing else. No death record. Nothing. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d have to say 1862, or thereabouts. You don’t look a day past twenty-one. How am I doing?”
She didn’t answer.
“About all we managed to dredge up on Miss Braun was a deathbed confession. Want to hear it?”
Oh no. No
. She started trembling. The webbing hid it.
“According to sources - and if anyone digs deep enough, they’ll find it, too – there’s a record taken from a certain Viscount Thornby. He passed to his higher rewards in 1911. I forget the date. Doesn’t really matter. He gave the most interesting deathbed confession. According to his version of events, back when he was a lad of eighteen, he came home on vacation from Eton to find the sweetest, most beautiful girl in the nursery of his home. She was working as a governess. Had dark, wine-shaded hair, intensely blue eyes. Like I said. She was beautiful. Ring a bell?”
“What the hell is he talking about, Cassie?” Jacob burst out.
“She knows. I can see it in her eyes. When she looks at me. Time, someone?”
“Eighteen minutes.”
The man smiled. “According to Viscount Thornby, he accosted this paragon of beauty late one night, after imbibing a few too many drinks with the friends, and in the resultant struggle, Miss Braun fell. Hit her head on the hearth. Expired. Ahem.” He turned his back on her and started walking about, getting louder with his story. “The viscount sent for his friends. They panicked. Gathered Miss Braun in the bedding and hauled her down to Highgate. That’s a cemetery, Jake. Once there, they found a pine box. Just a plain affair, that box. And then they found some tools and dug a grave. They selected an unused place, not opened yet…near a high fence that shielded their perfidy. Being young men with little in physical pursuits, and suffering from a lot of brandy, they didn’t dig the grave very deep. Barely two feet. If that. And then…when they had a spot ready—”
“Stop!”
Cassie was surprised when the word left her throat. He ignored her.
“Don’t you think it needs saying? Wasn’t that what you screamed about for six nights and five days? Didn’t you curse every one of them while you waited to die? Buried alive. In that little pine box? In the dark?”
She would have collapsed if it hadn’t been for the restriction of the lines about her. And he just wouldn’t stop talking.
“They heard you. Did you know that? That makes it worse somehow, doesn’t it? You moaned just as they shoveled on the first bit of dirt. And they finished with it anyway, attempted murder carrying the same punishment as the real thing and all that. Isn’t that right, Miss Braun?”
She didn’t answer. Jake did.
“On my God.”
“God doesn’t have much to do with what happened next, Jake. It seems that Miss Braun didn’t die. Not then anyway. We don’t even know for sure how long she was in there. Could have been moments, really.”
It wasn’t. It had been five days. She hadn’t any way of telling time, but it had been long enough to scrape her way through the top of the box allowing dirt to rain in on her. It was Akron who’d found her. And saved her. And told her.
“All we really know is that when the viscount went back six days later, in the hour before dawn, the ground had been disturbed. And when he dug, he found the grave empty. That’s right. Empty. Did you know he came back, Miss Braun?”
She didn’t answer.
“You enjoyed haunting him, didn’t you? His confession ends with the hope that your spirit can rest now. He says he tried not to go out at night, and never alone. He’d see glimpses of you if he did. You never aged. Never changed. You’d just stare at him and then disappear. And that’s when we knew what you were. Time?”
“Fifteen minutes.”
She was going to cut this close. Cassandra worked an arm slightly, rippling the mesh. The ropes had dried. It didn’t hurt. And her skin was healing.
“What the hell are you saying?” Jacob asked.
“Isn’t it obvious? She a vampire.”
There was complete silence for about a second. Then Jacob started laughing. He laughed so hard he rocked the chair. Cassandra smiled slightly at how joyous and unrestrained he sounded.
“For a minute there, I thought you were serious, man. Hell. I can tell you that’s not true. She’s all woman. And this is ridiculous.”
“I happen to be completely serious, Mister Walsh. You might want to spare the levity.”
“Call me Jake. And cut me loose. I won’t fight. Hell. I just want some pants.”
The webbing pulled away from the wall slightly, and then she saw the fasteners they’d used. Cassandra slapped her eyes closed as the effect rippled through her. Every spike had a crucifix or other religious icon etched into it. The more she pulled, the more got revealed, and each one sapped at her strength, riddling her with ill effects. Ingenious.
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t trust you. Or her. But…in about twelve minutes, you’ll see for yourself. And then this will all be over. We’ll leave. You can go back to making video games. You’ll see.”
“Oh, really. What am I going to see? A beautiful sunrise over New Hampshire?”
“Miss Braun here is going to turn to dust. And decay. She’ll be a dead thing. Exactly like she should have been over a century ago.”
“Right.”
“You’ve been humping a corpse, Jacob. You might want to consider that.”
A huge thump echoed through the entire structure. The room went absolutely black. Silent. And then a voice boomed out a name, the sound penetrating everywhere. The moment she heard it, Cassandra’s shoulders sagged with relief. Akron.
“Chester Beethan. ” Akron intoned it, like he was passing sentence.
A spotlight turned on, highlighting the leader.
“Who wants to know?”
The voice chuckled, the sound eerie and vast. “You attacked and tied humans? Chester. Where are your manners?”
“Akron? It’s Akron, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps.”
“Time?” Chester yelled.
“Eleven minutes.”
“Didn’t your grandfather teach you any better than this? Aren’t you supposed to follow some sort of ethical code?”
“You kill for profit and you’re talking ethics?”
“You know, I prefer your grandfather. Where is the general, anyway?”
“It’s Lord Beethan to you. He’s…ill.”
“Hope it’s not terminal.”
“Not yet. He’s had a bad reaction to tattoo removal surgery.”
Akron’s laughter boomed out. “I heard about that incident. Bad form. All around. Apologize to him for me, will you. Cassandra? We’ll be leaving now.”
“Like hell you will. This here is sanctified wood. And I’m a fantastic shot. At this distance, I can’t miss.”
The man had yanked his crossbow over his shoulder and aimed it right at her.
“Tsk. Tsk. Chester. You should know better. Invaris? Hit the lights. Slowly. No need for itchy trigger fingers.”
Barely there at first, and then so softly it looked like dawn, the room got illuminated. Where there’d been thirty-some-odd hunters, they were interspaced with an uncountable number of black clothed figures. Faceless. Silent. Frightening.