The Scarlet Dagger (The Red Sector Chronicles, #1) (12 page)

I listened, barely able to focus because I was hurting so bad. While part of me – the hunter – wanted to smile and say the vampires got what they deserved, a greater part was saddened. It seemed so stupid, all the mindless bloodshed and fighting.

Would it ever cease? Had the world truly ended three years ago, condemning all of us to this “hell on earth,” doomed to fight until the bitter bloody finish when only one race was left standing?

I couldn’t muster up a reply. I staggered as another wave of pain rolled over me, and Aden rushed forward to help. “We should get those wounds seen to,” he repeated.

I didn’t reply. Instead, I brushed his hand away and limped ahead of him, each step more painful than the first.

In the back of my mind, Frost’s warning loomed like a storm cloud. If I didn’t watch my step, I could end up dead any minute.

Suddenly, this underground haven seemed every bit as dangerous as the Red Sector.

Chapter 8

Paris took one look at my skin and hissed. “What the hell happened?”

It was hard to make out what she said; her accent seemed to thicken when she was angry. She shot Aden a glare as she led me to a padded table. “I thought you were supposed to be keeping her safe.”

Aden closed the door behind him, leaving just the three of us in the room. He rounded on Paris, an angry edge to his voice. “I am keeping her safe! If I hadn’t intervened, Frost would have killed her right there.”

I half-expected some snarky remark from Paris, but she looked pale and frightened. “Frost,” she said, shivering. “I should have known this was some of her handiwork.”

“
What’s her… problem… anyway?” I asked between grunts.

“
She hates hunters,” Paris said matter-of-factly, shooting me a glare. “For good reason.”

“
You mean… the attack… two months ago?”

“
Her daughter was one of the civilians killed in the assault,” Aden said quietly.

All right, I could completely understand why Frost was pissed with me. But on the other hand, I hadn’t done anything to deserve that kind of treatment, which somewhat dulled my sympathy for her.

Paris helped me lay down, covering me in a blanket before rushing over to the cabinets. My whole body shook uncontrollably. Without a doubt, the walk here had been one of the most painful experiences I had ever endured. I knew my skin was slowly being eaten alive by the acid, a thought I tried not to focus on or else I might black out. My ability to handle gore was very weak.

Aden crossed the room in three large steps, suddenly at my side. “Just breathe,” he said, taking my hand and squeezing it gently. Paris rummaged through supplies, flinging cabinets open as she went.

I tried doing as he instructed, to block out the pain and concentrate on my breathing, but my chest burned every time I inhaled, and I chewed my lip raw in multiple attempts at not screaming.

“
Give her your blood,” Paris called, returning to my bedside.

I started to protest, but Aden put a finger to my lips, holding my gaze. “Your wounds are too severe. If you want to live, you need vampire blood.”

“
What’s wrong with… human? Or animal?” I rasped.

Paris sterilized a scalpel and handed it to Aden. “Neither is strong enough to heal Scarlet Steel wounds,” he said. “Animal blood definitely isn’t. It’s the weakest of the three in the nutrients we need. ‘The ‘bottom of the food chain’, as it were.” He drew the blade across his wrist and I had to look away, tasting puke. He lowered his wrist to my mouth. I could see crimson liquid flowing from the incision, a literal “fountain of life.”

I blanched. “I can’t.”

“
Yes, you can.” Aden bent down until his face was only a few inches from mine, his eyes bright with determination. “You will drink. I can’t lose you now.”

For some reason, my heart skipped a beat, and for a few seconds I forgot all about the pain as I stared into his eyes. Then my blood boiled and I cried out. Aden took the opportunity to shove his wrist into my open mouth, and when I tried to pull away, he pushed the wound harder against my chapped lips.

I can’t say I’ve ever drank blood before (unless you count the times I’ve busted my lip in a fight, or accidentally bit down too hard on my tongue), and though the very thought repulsed me, the taste of his blood was like honey and sugar on my tongue. My gums ached as my canines sharpened and extended slightly, a knee-jerk reaction to tasting the blood, I assumed. I moaned, eagerly lapping up the sweetness that flowed into me. Warmth – like gentle sunshine – spread through me, and the aches and terrible pain began to drain away as renewed strength filled my body, repairing my charred flesh.

At last, he pried his wrist from my mouth and Paris handed him a towel. My skin glowed, or at least, it felt like it did, as I lay back on the small, thin pillow with a long sigh. My heart no longer raced as if fighting to keep beating. And though my skin did not burn, the raw feeling remained, a reminder of Frost’s cruelty.

Paris checked my vitals, shining a pen light into my eyes and timing my pulse. I winced when she pressed her fingers against my wrist, which was still very sore from the burn marks that marred my tattoo, distorting it until it looked more like a smudge than a cross. I chanced a more complete inspection of my arms. The skin the chains had touched was intact, stretched taut and bright pink, but there all the same. I shuddered to think what it would feel like to be stabbed with Scarlet Steel, to feel it consuming you whole from the inside out and unable to do anything to stop it.

“
Since I was the one who turned you, my blood will accelerate your healing,” Aden said, tossing the blood-soaked towel into the wastebasket. The slice along his arm had already closed up. “And your own regeneration will help you recover quickly, but you’ll still need to rest for a few days to recuperate before beginning your training.”

I blinked. “I thought I was under house arrest, as in, not allowed to train.”

“
Oh, Frost wants to train you all right,” Aden said with a grim, mocking smile. “I assured that.”

You saved my life
, I wanted to say, but was unable to find the breath to thank him. Though I was grateful, part of me still hadn’t completely forgiven him for turning me into a vampire and dragging me into this mess in the first place.

“
Besides, I can’t step foot inside the academy for three days, as per the terms of Frost’s suspension,” Aden said, not sounding very pleased. “But I’ll manage.”

Paris shook her head, muttering something that included the word “reckless.” She sighed and opened a small drawer. “Frost’s office called the moment she released the girl. I’ve been ordered to fit her with a homing chip.”

“
A what?” I asked.

“
It’s a tracking device,” Aden said as Paris sat down beside me, a small, black dot the size of a tick in one hand, and a very large needle in the other. “It will allow Frost to track your location underground, so she can keep tabs on you at all times.”

My eyes were glued to the needle, and my skin broke out in an icy sweat. Paris noticed the difference and smirked. “You can take being burned alive by Scarlet Steel, but you can’t handle one tiny needle?”

I gulped at the word “needle.” “I’m not sure –”

She rolled her eyes. “Relax, cupcake.” She rubbed my left forearm with a cotton ball. My skin immediately began to tingle right before it numbed. “This will just take a second, and you won’t feel a thing.”

I looked away, and Aden eyed me with a bemused smile. I glowered at him. “What?”

He chuckled and folded his arms, leaning against the countertop. “Nothing,” he murmured, though his eyes sparkled with amusement.

“
There,” Paris said, rising. “All done. And look! You’re still in one piece.”

My eyes snapped to my wrist. Sure enough, there was a barely noticeable pink line, no more than a scratch on the surface of my skin. True to her word, I hadn’t felt a thing.

Paris handed a thin black bracelet to Aden. “Care to do the honors?” she asked.

He took the bracelet with a low growl and walked over to me as I sat up. I watched as he removed my right boot and rolled my pants leg up until my ankle showed. My mouth set in a frown as he looped the bracelet around my ankle and snapped it shut. A small red light bleeped to life.

“
Is that what I think it is?” I asked.

Aden nodded. “A certified electric anklet, only since you’re a vampire, it delivers ‘twice the punch’ than a regular anklet would. Here in the Syndicate, we want you to feel as much like an outcast as possible, if you hadn’t noticed,” he said dryly. “As I speak, they’re setting up a perimeter around my apartment. Once you step inside its boundaries, you won’t be able to set foot outside the door without being shocked.”

I eyed the anklet, pursing my lips. “How much of a shock are we talking about?”

“
Eh, it’ll be more or less like being hit by lightning. Over and over and over again.”

“
Are you serious? That’ll kill me!”

Aden quirked a brow, shrugging. “You’re a vampire now, and a gifted one, at that. I think you’ll be surprised what you can live through. Will it hurt? Yes. It’ll be far worse than Scarlet Steel.”

“
That doesn’t seem possible,” I grumbled.

“
But you won’t die from being shocked by it,” Aden finished.

Paris murmured something in Aden’s ear and he nodded. “We should get going,” he said, offering me a hand but I ignored it, stiffly standing on my own. My entire body ached, like I had just run a marathon, as I followed him out the door.

I thought I heard Paris whisper “be careful,” but when I looked back she was gone.

***

It turned out that everyone who worked on the base lived there. Not a big surprise, considering how human military bases were built, with on-site housing. Rows of apartments and townhouses carved right from the rock sprang up around us, plain white structures that rose all the way to the lighted ceiling of the domed structure we now walked in. The whole place had a very primitive feel, with its hanging cables and Stone Age style décor. Dirt roads divided the base into blocks. There weren’t any sidewalks; I supposed without cars, they didn’t really need any, as civilians could just walk down the street. Some apartments had little pots with fake plants, but other than that there was no greenery. Everything was a shade of gray, brown, or black.

It’s about as charming as the Red Sector.

The housing section was separated from the rest of the pyramid-like base, with its own laundry facilities and a small grocery/convenient store. There were also a few restaurants and even an arcade on one block. Outside the base, the air was climate-controlled, though it was still a little cool and damp-feeling. I guessed it couldn’t be helped since we were underground.

“
Do all vampires live here?” I asked. “Within the base, I mean?”

Aden walked a few steps in front of me, never turning his head. “No. There are other… locations.”

I wanted to press him further, but his tone suggested the subject was off-limits.

For now. Until I gain his trust.

We paused at a wrought iron gate and Aden slid a card through a security box before it beeped and the gate swung open. I glanced up as we passed through, noticing the forget-me-not emblem embossed on a seal above our heads.

It’s the same image that so closely resembles my birthmark. What had Aden and Frost called it?

It clicked in my memory. “What’s the Mark of the Creator?”

Aden flinched, his hand tightening at his side. “It’s based off an old legend. It’s linked to the first vampire that was ever created. The crest of the Royal House, so to say.”

“
So this first vampire… he was a king?”

“
We think so. There are few records left from the time of his reign, right around the dawn of the Dark Ages in Europe, about the 5
^th
century AD.”

“
Wow.” I imagined medieval castles and grinned. “You don’t mean Count Dracula, do you?”

He snorted. “Hardly. Besides, the real Dracula – ‘Vlad the Impaler’ as he was called – lived much later, during the 1400’s.”

I absorbed this, wondering if there was any connection between the two rulers, but quickly dismissed that thought. As far as we knew, Dracula had been more of a nut-job and not a real vampire. But then again, three years ago, we thought vampires were a figment of horror movies. They had turned out to be real enough. Could it be that all the old legends surrounding the Count actually carried a grain of truth?

Aden turned up a stone sidewalk, walking to the door of what appeared to be a townhouse tucked off in the corner by itself. I supposed if you were the captain you were granted special privileges, like some semblance of privacy in this crowded neighborhood.

He took out a set of keys and inserted one into the door, unlocking it with a soft
click
.

“
Remember,” he said, “once you cross the threshold, the anklet will be activated.”