King's Gambit (22 page)

“Basement,” Alex whispered as the color came back into my world.

I pocketed the tuft of hair and shook my head to clear my mind from the spell’s effects. You’d think someone would have found a workaround for the mindfuck a tracking spell gave you, but who has time for first world problems?

The stairs didn’t creak when we stepped down them, the oddity putting me more on edge. It was so silent that, had I not summoned some ghost lights to illuminate our path, it would have been as if we were walking on air – gross, moldy air. The orbs bobbed around the room with a life of their own. They highlighted some gardening tools that were of no use considering the lack of nature around here and a bunch of dirty sheets covering a strange gathering of shapes. Chains clanked around, and I felt a small brush of movement against my side, telling me Alex had drawn his gun. I don’t know how he planned to hit anything in this abyss, but his aim was superb, so I wasn’t about to say boo.

Pressing my back flat against the wall to reduce my chances of being seen, I directed the ghost lights over to the source of the noise. One boney wrist was highlighted, leading down to torn nails that once sported an immaculate manicure. There was a long, white arm trailing up to a bare shoulder. The lights floated higher to reveal a mop of frazzled blonde hair.

“Elise,” I whispered, rushing over to her.

I jumped back as she reared her head up, fangs bared, and lashed out with a feral hiss. Her eyes were black, her irises blood red. She continued her blind flailing, the chains around her making a violent ruckus as she struggled against them. Her thin fingers were flexed, clawing at the stale basement air. She let out another airy screech and snapped her jaw.

“Elise, calm down.” I kept the ghost lights at max distance, not at all wanting to see the condition her body was in. Provided they had enough blood, a vampire’s body would heal itself, but knowing that wouldn’t help my appetite if I saw how messed up she was.

“She’s gone,” said Alex. “Knock her out and I’ll carry her.”

“Information first; the others could be here, too.” I moved closer to her before stepping back to avoid another rabid chomp. “I don’t suppose Dorian slipped you a blood pack or anything?”

“No. Want me to run down to the store?” He really needed to work on his sense of humor. Though did I, the Pun Queen, really have the right to say that?

Fuck yeah, I did – puns were hilarious.

I crouched down and tried approaching Elise once more. Her legs had been bound, too. Good. Well, not good, but you know what I mean. I shook her as gently as I could, unsure of how much damage she’d incurred. Her only reaction was a jerk of her knee, which I dodged before reaching for her again. This time, I shot a blast of pure cold through her leg in hopes of getting her to chill out.

See? Hilarious.

“I think I hear something,” said Alex.

“How can you hear anything past the hissing and clanging?”

“I’m serious.” His footsteps got quieter. “I’ll go check it out.”

“What? No, Alex!” In my distraction, I hit Elise with an extra strong bolt of electricity. The room went quiet for a while. “Crap. Sorry, it appears my idiot boyfriend forgot his promise to be careful. I didn’t mean to hit you that hard. Actually, can you still feel anything?”

“Yes,”
she panted out.

I sighed in relief and stood up. “Welcome back.”

His irises were still red, but the sclera had returned to its normal, albeit bloodshot, white. She’d retracted her fangs, too. Add another point to the benefits of shock therapy.

I am a horrible person.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “What happened? Where are the others?”

“I’ll live. Don’t make a joke,” she added with a glare. “We–” She cut off with a raspy hiss and dropped her head. “Thirsty.”

I patted my pockets, hoping Dorian really had managed to slip some blood packs in. “I don’t have any blood to spare, sorry. Is it safe to let you go?”

“Yes. No,” she gasped out, working her jaw. “Khalil. Attic.”

“And Marcus?”

“Gone. Fl–” Another dry hiss. “King.”

“Flavius? Why? Never mind, stupid question. I’m going to find Khalil. I’ll be right back, okay? Save your strength.”

Elise didn’t reply, and neither did Alex when I called out for him. He didn’t reply when I tried on the first floor, either, or the second, or the third. My heart began the first lap of its 10K marathon with a bang, my breath joining in as each subsequent floor revealed no traces of him. I really needed to fucking snip some of his hair off and keep it as a necklace.

No creaking of floorboards, no thumping footsteps – even as stealthy as Alex could be, this building didn’t allow for absolute silence. I couldn’t hear him, only my own footsteps came through, accompanied by the sounds of the city and its denizens as they cried out from beyond the decrepit walls.

The attic was hidden over one of those pull out ladders. I hopped a few times, pawing at the dangling drawstring like Rowan with a ball of yawn. Then, I realized that jumping up and down on the floor of a building long past its expiration date wasn’t the best of ideas. If the trap door was still closed, however, it meant Alex hadn’t been by here. I hissed his name again, hearing it die out in the winter air filtering through the cracked walls. There was a chair in the corner, and I brought it underneath the trapdoor. Letting out a breath of relief when it didn’t break the second I stepped onto it, I tugged on the rope. The door opened with a thud, bringing forth the smell of mold, sawdust, and blood.

I sent in some ghost lights before climbing up. The whole place looked like a horror enthusiast’s playpen, complete with one eyed porcelain dolls. Dangling in the middle of the room by a chain was Khalil. He looked the way Elise had when I –
we
, I corrected with a bitter frown as I thought of Alex – discovered her.

“Khalil,” I called with a wince, expecting him to rage out like she had. “Khalil, it’s Morgan.”

He didn’t react. I crawled over to him, lamenting another pair of jeans, and shook his knee. Figuring ice wouldn’t help, I sent a bolt of electricity through him. It took two more tries before he let out a quiet groan. See? Pattern recognition is never wrong. I could’ve blamed myself for not tying Alex to the bed, but I chose to blame
him
for not knowing better. Yeah, perfect.

Fuck my life.

Khalil’s face scrunched up and he bared his fangs in a death grimace. His eyes were closed, but I didn’t need to see them to know they were red. A hungry, rabid, vampire could rip their way through almost anything, and I had no idea how much control Khalil had over himself.

I backpedaled away and whispered his name again.

Another groan.

“Um…stop making noise if you can hear me.”

Silence. Booyah.

“Are you okay?”

He jerked his head up before letting it drop in what I took to be a nod.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have any blood for you.” I peered down the trapdoor to check for hostiles. Or Alex. Alex would be nice. “Is anyone else here? Elise said Flavius was responsible.”

“Yes,” Khalil forced out, sounding like he’d swallowed sandpaper and it was lodged in his throat. “They took Sir Castinus. I don’t know where.”

“They?”

“Flavius. Two older guys – thugs. And some kid. Tan. Dark curly hair.”

“Tomas,” I spat. “Fucking called it. Did Alex come up here?”

He shook his head.

“Is it safe to untie you?”

He licked his lips, a hint of fang peeking out between them. He didn’t look at me, though. I repeated the question, and when he rolled his eyes to look at me, they were crimson. “Check my left pocket for my phone.”

“Why would they leave you your phone?” I asked, inching back towards him.

“They only wanted Marcus; they didn’t care about us.”

“What was Elise even doing here? I thought she was going to magic mirror him.”

He lifted his shoulders to shrug, but the chains stopped him. “Ask her.”

I fished his phone out. “Got it.”

“Speed dial five and give them this address. Then, go after your surly lover.”

I cracked a small grin. “I’ll take that as a sign your spirit hasn’t been broken.”

He managed a feeble attempt at smiling back. “Never.”

Before I could make the call, Khalil’s phone flashed with an unknown number.

“Aw, it’s the murderous bitch,” Tomas’ voice said from the other side. “Don’t you know? It’s illegal to sneak onto someone else’s private property. I could have you arrested for trespassing.”

“Probable cause,” I said. “Besides, I doubt you own this building. Actually, this place is shitty enough for me to believe that even you could afford it.”

“Fuck you,” he spat. I smirked, practically hearing the scowl form on his face. “You know, I’d be nicer if I was you,” Tomas continued in a happier voice. “I mean, I wanted you to be here to watch me gut your boy toy, but I’ll settle for having you hear him die right now.”

My smirk vanished and my blood turned to ice, the ghost lights disintegrating as the world around me faded into darkness.

17

Tomas, arrogant little shit that he was, called me out to meet him in the abandoned parking lot of a condemned factory. What the actual fuck was with bad guys and factories? Fuck it, at least I won’t feel bad about burning everything to the ground. I rushed over to the address after calling Khalil’s guy, shoving aside the memories of what happened the last time I wandered into a warehouse half-cocked – or what happened the time before that.

The factory wasn’t that far, but it gave me plenty of time to beat myself up over how stupid I was. I let Alex come with me despite knowing bad shit could go down. How many chances did I have to send him home? I should’ve held my ground better, I should’ve forced him to stay, I should’ve– I hunched over, grabbing my knees, and took deep breaths. I was so sick of fucking up.

Would I ever get things right? Would I ever stop being such a goddamn failure and letting people I cared about get hurt? Just the thought of Tomas doing anything to Alex made me feel like my throat had dropped into my stomach and I was sucking on bile. If something happened to him, I would never be able to forgive myself. This is why I was so against being in an actual relationship.

And yet, the one thing I couldn’t bring myself to regret was being with him. That didn’t excuse me fucking up and letting him come along when he was still recovering, though. A voice in the back of my head told me I couldn’t actually “let” Alex do anything, but I pushed that bitch down with the other parts of me that were trying to alleviate my guilt.

A brick came loose, landing on the pavement with a cracking sound that had me jumping out of my probably about-to-be-filled-with-holes skin. Maybe Tomas would surprise me and be perfectly reasonable. We’d talk it all out, and he’d let me take Alex home – maybe he’d even throw Marcus in. Then, we could all do the Macarena until the sun comes up. Sounds legit.

I arrived at the address he gave me and paced around the empty lot, considering the various gory ways I could fuck up that obnoxious little cretin. My favorite so far was gripping his head and sending in a burst of force magic so his brain explodes.

And people say Mortal Kombat is bad for you.

“‘Sup, bitch?” Tomas sauntered out of the factory’s rusted double doors. His hands were in his pockets and there was a shit-eating grin on his face. It wasn’t a good look for him.

“So, where’s your boss?” I couldn’t even manage a smirk as the smile left his face. “Flavius, remember? There’s no way you’d still be around if he didn’t want you to be – kind of like a pet he keeps around for entertainment.”

Tomas shifted his jaw side to side, his mouth curling downwards into a grimace. “I’m alive because I’m innocent.”

“You killed Robert Franklin.”

“And you killed Mistress Zhen. That’s a bigger problem.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You know who admitted to being guilty? Idiots. Never admit anything unless you’re A) 100% sure no one else can hear you and B) about to kill whoever you’re confessing to. Okay, there are exceptions to those rules, but they’ve served me well so far. “The only way you could still be alive is if the hit on Robert was sanctioned. So, why did Flavius want him dead? Do you even know, or are you too busy kissing ass to question the will of your betters?”

He clenched his fists, nostrils flaring, and rushed at me. Fire twisted around my hands as I braced for impact. I could survive a hole in the gut, no matter how painful, and I’d make sure he would only just survive immolation – as much as I wanted to rip him a plethora of new ones, I could offer a quick, painless death in exchange for some information.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Allison’s prissy voice called from the doorway.

“Taking care of–”

“That was rhetorical, obviously.” She came forward, her spring green dress and designer gold flats completely out of place in the warehouse district. And seriously, who changed outfits twice in one night? Was this outfit part of her kidnapper chic collection?

Tomas turned to her. “Flavius said she’s trouble.”

I debated setting them both on fire and just cutting my losses, but there was no telling how many people were in that factory and what they would do to Alex. Knowing that, however, didn’t dampen my desire to flambé them.