Demon's Kiss

Vixen crouched in the sheltering trees outside Gregor's mansion. She was trembling with fear but determined to do this thing, to help her friends.



It was odd, having people she considered friends for the first time in her life. She actually cared about them and believed that they cared about her, too. Even Seth, in his way.



Reaper put a hand on her shoulder. "Gregor can trigger the rage in me at any second, Vixen. It's important that you put some distance between us. You're in twice the danger that I am here, because you have to fear my attack, as well as that of our enemies. So be careful. Don't be seen. Don't risk yourself, no matter what."



She met his eyes in the darkness and smiled gently. "I'll get the information we need. I promise."



"Listen for me. I'll block everyone but you and Gregor. He won't hear me until he's outside the mansion. Wait until he leaves, and even then-"



"I'll be careful." She nodded once, then turned and raced away from him, circling the mansion, to a secluded spot near the back. And there she waited, working to pull in her focus, her energy, preparing for the shift.



Moments ticked by, and finally she heard Reaper as he called out mentally.



Gregor.



The reply was immediate, and there was no sense of fear in Gregor's mind. Vixen heard his reply through Reaper's mind. Hello, Reaper. I've been expecting you. Which is why I've been listening through the open window.



Reaper looked up, guided by his sense of the man, and spotted him near an open window on the second floor. The bastard waved in his direction, even though Reaper was concealed by trees. Gregor knew he was there, must sense him there. Oh, he was good.



I hope you haven't come for Briar, though. If so, I'm afraid you'll be sorely disappointed. She's terribly glad to be back where she belongs.



I'm here for you, Gregor. And I'm alone. There's no one here you can make me hurt.



Smart move, I suppose. But I don't need to trigger your insanity to take you out. I can do that all by myself.



Now's your chance to prove it. Come out, meet me. And come alone, Gregor, or I won't be there when you arrive. I'm watching. I'll know if you deploy drones or set traps for me. This is you and me, one on one. If you're man enough.



When and where, Reaper?



Fifteen minutes. There's a vacant lot, where kids play baseball. Ten miles north of here, turn left and take the dirt road another three miles. It's on the right. No cover, nowhere either of us could hide reinforcements. Nothing.



I'll be there.



I'll be waiting.



Vixen closed her eyes, but only briefly. She had to watch the mansion. She had to watch until she saw Gregor leave, and make absolutely sure he left alone and no one followed. If anyone did, she would be able to alert Reaper instantly.



So she watched, and she waited. Ten minutes ticked past before she sensed Reaper leaving in a blur of speed. And a minute after that she saw Gregor leaving the mansion.



But he wasn't alone. He had Briar at his side.



No one else followed. No drones, no backup.



Vixen focused on Reaper's mind and worked hard to apply Roxy's lessons in blocking anyone else from hearing her thoughts. She envisioned a pure beam of light surging from her mind to Reaper's, but traveling through a pipeline of solid lead, a pipeline nothing could penetrate.



Reaper.



I'm here.



He's on his way. Briar is with him. No one else, at least not so far.



Good enough. Thank you, Vixen.



Be safe, Reaper.



Briar walked beside Gregor through the night to the waiting vehicle, his shiny black Porsche. Wherever they were going, she was glad they were driving. She wouldn't have been able to go very far on foot.



She'd been taken to the cell in the hours before dawn. She'd been stripped, her wrists shackled to the wall on either side of her, her ankles encased in a single iron band. And there she'd stayed, almost unable to move, in a pose reminiscent of the crucifixion.



Every little while, perhaps at fifteen-minute intervals, the collar at her neck came alive with cruel jolting energy. Her entire body went stiff, every muscle tensing until she thought they would tear apart. Her back arched, and her head slammed back against the stone wall. Her body jerked against its restraints, and she couldn't control that, so the iron cut into her wrists and ankles more deeply every time. And when it ended, she would hang there, trembling, weak, shivering, her entire body in pain.



She could only assume Gregor was above, comfortable at the fireplace, hitting the button maliciously whenever the mood struck him. The pain was intolerable. Maddening. And after the first few jolts, she began to feel terror as the minutes ticked past and she awaited the inevitable.



By the time the sun rose, she'd lost most of her ability for coherent thought. She only knew intense relief as she sank into the vampiric day sleep and waited for the healing power of a vampire's rest to restore her.



But when the sun sank that dusk, even as she began to wake, the jolting came again. And again. And again. Yes, the day sleep had restored her, but she was weak-in dire need of blood to complete the healing and replenish her energy. Instead, she received only torture and pain, weakening her body and mind even further.



And then Gregor was there, standing at her cell door. She hadn't even sensed his presence until she heard the key turning in the lock, metal on metal. She lifted her head weakly, squinted through eyes not quite focused.



Gregor swung the door open and stepped into the cell. He slung a handful of clothing onto the floor and came to her, unlocking her ankles and then her wrists. She sank to the floor.



"Get up and put the clothes on. And do it as quickly as your current state allows, Briar. We have an appointment to keep."



She pushed herself up onto her hands. "I...can't."



"Oh. Well, in that case, I might as well keep the electricity surging, I suppose." He reached to his chest, and she saw the blurry shape of the remote, his torture device, hanging from a chain around his neck.



"No, please."



"Then do as I say."



"I need...sustenance, Gregor. I'm not even sure I can stand."



"I anticipated your needs. Here." He took a flask from his pocket and removed its thimble-sized lid. He filled it with a sip of blood from the flask, and then he bent and held it to her lips.



She drank, but it was barely a swallow. Nowhere near enough.



"That's all you're getting. Ask for more and you'll get another taste of my power over you. Now, get dressed."



The blood caused a slight tingle, a dim echo of the power that would thrum through her veins if she could truly feed. She prayed it was enough to keep her alive, because truly, she felt nearer to death just then than she had ever felt before. And maybe it would be better if death took her. At least there would be no more of this agony.



She struggled to her feet, shuffled to the corner and began to pick up the clothing he'd thrown there. They were her own things. Black leather pants, skintight and difficult to put on. A leather jacket. No blouse, no undergarments. She struggled into them, then sank to the floor again to pull on the black boots, wondering how she would manage to walk in their spiked heels when she could barely stand.



As soon as the second boot was zipped, Gregor grabbed her by the arm and jerked her to her feet.



"You'll walk beside me. You'll hold your head up. You'll appear for all the world as if nothing is wrong, and you will also appear to adore me. Waver from these instructions in any way and I'll put you on your knees, Briar. Do you understand?"



"Yes."



"You'd better. Now, come along. We're going to meet your lover. And you're going to watch me kill him. I might even make you help." He smiled slowly and tugged her along beside him, through the basement and up the stairs to the main house, then through it and out the front door.



He led her to the sleek black Porsche, settled her into the passenger seat. And then he was behind the wheel and driving through the night. Briar couldn't stop looking at the remote control he wore around his neck, or thinking about the flask of blood in his pocket. If she could get those things from him, she might be able to stop him from murdering Reaper.



That thought gave her pause, and in her pain-fogged mind, she clarified her goal. If she could get those things from him, she might be able to survive. That was the goal-the only goal: her own survival.



It always had been.



Moments after Gregor and Briar sped away in the black car, Vixen trotted on furred toes toward the house. She went straight to the front door and launched herself bodily toward it, colliding hard enough to make a loud thump she knew would be heard. She landed on her feet, jarred but determined, and quickly darted behind a large potted plant on the landing to wait.



Soon the door opened, and one of the drones stepped through it and stood there, looking around.



She trotted past his feet unnoticed and into the house, shooting underneath a sofa and curling up there, waiting.



Soon enough the drone returned, closing the door. He tromped across the floor, returning almost mindlessly to whatever he'd been doing before. And when she was sure the room was once again empty, Vixen darted out from her hiding place, her tail flying behind her, and up the stairs to Gregor's suite.



Once there, she faced a closed door, and she knew it was likely locked. There was no way to open it, not in her current form. But shifting back would take so much energy-and she wouldn't be able to change again for hours. She might very well become trapped in Gregor's lair.



And yet she didn't see any other option. She looked up and down the hallway, and seeing no one nearby, she lay down on the floor, curled into her luxuriant tail and focused on shifting back.



Minutes ticked by as her body strained and morphed, lengthened and broadened. A haze of oblivion lay over her mind like a silk blanket, and as it cleared, she found herself curled on the floor, in plain sight. She'd left her clothes in the woods and so had nothing with which to cover herself. But first things first.



She rose to her feet, willing the strength to return to her body quickly, as she looked again up and down the hallway, and again saw nothing. No one. But she could hear the heavy footfalls of one of the drones in the great room below.



Turning to the door, she quickly twisted the knob. It opened-unlocked, by some miracle. Or maybe it wasn't a miracle at all. There was no one left here but the drones, so far as she knew. And they would never defy Gregor's orders, so he had no reason to lock his door.



She pushed the door open and ducked inside, just as the drone's footsteps began slamming on the stairs. Quickly, silently, she closed the door behind her, and unlike Gregor, she turned the lock.



She waited there, listening as the drone's steps came closer, then slowly moved past. Sighing in relief, she turned to examine Gregor's rooms. The first, the one she'd entered, seemed to be a sitting room of sorts. There was a desk, with the usual supplies littering it: pens, telephone, blotter, laptop. Beside the desk, a birdcage dangled from its stand, a rough-looking rat sitting silently inside, staring at her.



There was an open doorway leading into the bedroom, and something about the energy coming from there drew her attention quickly and without warning. She realized she was not alone. And, just as suddenly, she felt drawn to whoever was inside-irresistibly drawn.



Frowning she moved forward, as if compelled. There was something square in one corner, covered with a sheet. She moved toward it, and the energy now had a familiar feel to it. Very like Roxy's energy, but altered in some way.



Quickly she reached out and yanked the sheet away. A woman was cowering in the corner of the metal cage underneath the sheet. Her clothes were ragged and filthy. She was far too thin, her collarbone and shoulder blades protruding as she hugged herself. Closely cropped pale blond hair contrasted madly with her dark, lush brows and lashes, and her eyes were a stunning, vivid violet. She was trembling and staring in wide-eyed terror at Vixen.



Vixen lifted a hand, put a finger to her lips.



The frightened woman didn't respond in any way. Just stared, waiting, petrified. And no wonder. God only knew what she'd suffered at Gregor's hands, but the marks on her neck were a good indication. She was snack food. And, Vixen realized as she stood there, naked and unashamed, the woman was something more. She was one of the Chosen.



It stunned her to realize that Gregor had tortured, harmed and used one of the Chosen. No vampire could do such a thing-or so the legends said.



Glancing left and then right, Vixen spied a satin robe hanging from a hook on the wall, and she went to it, then quickly pulled it around her. It was far too big-Gregor's, no doubt-but at least it covered her. Then she went to the cage. It was perhaps four feet square, its tiny door padlocked. Inside there was a bowl of some sort of meat made into a distasteful looking hash, and another one filled with water. No utensils.



Kneeling in front of the cage, Vixen whispered as softly as she could, "You must be very, very quiet. I promise I'll help you."



The woman remained unmoving in the corner, her eyes watchful and completely untrusting. Why hadn't the other vampires sensed her here? Vixen wondered. Why hadn't she, when she'd been held here? Or Topaz? And then she recalled that Gregor had somehow surrounded this place in a shield that prevented mental messages from getting out. Perhaps he'd surrounded his own rooms in the same manner, so this one's presence couldn't be detected by others in the house.



Turning away from the captive, Vixen went to the desk in the adjoining room, feeling the woman's desperation at being left behind. And yet she remained quiet.



Beside the desk, in his cage nearby, the rat looked at her, twitching his whiskers.



Vixen looked right back at him and initiated a conversation. But asking a rat to recall a conversation that had taken place in a language he did not know was no easy task. However, he did convey that Gregor had jotted things down on a notepad as he'd spoken on the phone.



She found the notepad. Its top sheet was completely blank. She took a pencil and used the old trick of shading in the top sheet to see what had been written on the sheet above it, but Gregor must have torn off several, or else never written anything at all, despite what Jack thought he'd heard, because nothing showed up. She checked the wastepaper basket, even as the rat showed her, with his mind's images, Gregor's habit of crumbling notes and tossing them into the fireplace when he finished with them.



She would find nothing of use in the wastebasket.



She had so hoped...



Quickly she went through everything on the desk, searching for any clues, but she found nothing of use. Turning, then, knowing it was time to attempt to escape, she showed the rat what she was going to do, to ensure his cooperation. Then she tipped the pole slowly over, lowering it to the floor, until the cage lay on its side. She freed the latch, let the door fall open, told the rat he was free to go.



He leapt out, raced across the floor and vanished from sight. He would be all right. He could make his own escape.



The woman in the dog-sized cage couldn't. And now Vixen had to get both herself and the strange, traumatized female out of the lion's den alive.



How she was going to manage it, she didn't know. She went to the window, parted the curtain carefully and peered outside. There were drones posted at every corner of the house, and some here and there in between.



No doubt the one who'd heard her "knocking" on the front door had deployed them to watch the grounds.



Hell. She was trapped.



Now what?



She lingered at the window for a moment longer, seeking an answer, when she saw something move at the edge of the drive. Frowning, straining her eyes, she looked again and thanked the fates for her vampiric night vision when she glimpsed a small group gathered there: Topaz, Seth, Roxy and Jack. She wanted to call out to them-even attempted it, but it was like shouting from within a lead chamber. She thought of opening the window, then wondered if there might be an alarm attached and thought better of it.



Seth convinced the others to scope out the place with him first, then come up with a plan. It was the best option he could come up with, because it would put him in close proximity to Vixen in the least amount of time. No one had any better ideas, so they went along.



They didn't get too close, only close enough to see the drones standing around the mansion at regular intervals, eyes scanning the darkness around them with a nervous apprehension that convinced him that they knew something was up.



Dammit. Where the hell was Vixen?



Vixen, he called silently to her mind alone. Where are you?



There was no answer. Nor would there be, if she were inside the house. "I wish to God I knew how he manages to keep messages from getting in or out of that godforsaken place," Seth whispered.



"It's something electronic. That much I know," Jack replied, crouching close beside Seth.



"How do you know that?"



"Power went out once. Big storm. And you could feel the shield, or whatever the hell it is, go down."



"Then we have to knock out the power." Seth glanced at Roxy and Topaz.



Roxy shook her head. "We don't even know for sure they're in there. What if they're not? Taking out the electricity would only tip them off."



"Well, just how the hell do you suggest we find out?" Seth snapped.



Topaz put a hand on his shoulder from behind. "Get a grip, Seth. We're just trying to be smart. Cover all the bases. We want to get them out of there as badly as you do."



"I know." He sighed, lowered his head. "I know-What the hell!" He jumped up suddenly as he spoke. "It's a freakin' rat!"



The others rose, too, backing off a little, except for Jack, who remained crouched, staring at the rodent that had, inexplicably, come scurrying right up to them. As they watched, the creature rose up on its hind legs, its nose twitching, forefeet moving as if it were shadowboxing.



"What the hell is it doing?" Topaz backed away three full paces, rapidly, then shuddered and rubbed her arms.



"I think it's Lucifer," Jack said.



"You think the rat is the devil?" Roxy asked, sounding mildly amused. She'd backed away at first, but now she came closer again, bending a little to watch the animal's antics.



"Not that Lucifer. It's a pet, well, a captive, to be more accurate. Gregor keeps it in a cage in his rooms."



Seth narrowed his eyes on the rodent. It was down on all fours again, but turning back toward the house and twitching its snakelike tail.



"So then how did he get out?" Seth asked.



They all looked at him, each reaching the same conclusion. "Vixen would do something like that. Set a caged rat free," Topaz said slowly.



"Not only that, but she can talk to animals," Seth went on. "We all saw it outside The Crypt that night."



Roxy shook her head in disbelief, but her eyes remained riveted to the underfed black animal as it turned around to face them and rose up on its hind legs again. This time it emitted a squeak.



Topaz covered her ears and backed up again. "All right, all right. We hear you. Timmy's in the well. We're on it, okay? Now, get out of here, you gross little beast!"



The rat went motionless, still upright, blinking at her.



"Go!" she said in her loudest whisper yet, and she stomped her feet closer, as if she were about to trample it. The rat dropped to all fours and ran away.



"Dammit, Topaz, why did you do that?" Seth demanded.



"It was freaking me out!"



"We could have used it to communicate with Vixen."



"Oh, well, hell, Seth, you never mentioned that you could talk to vermin."



"Dammit, Tope, we could have strapped a note to it and sent it back inside or something."



"Uh-huh. And how were you going to tell the rat where to take the note?" She rolled her eyes.



Seth stared at the house, and his eyes were watering. "She must be in Gregor's rooms."



"Or was recently enough to set Lucifer free and send him to us," Jack agreed. "It's that window there." He pointed. "She must have seen us."



"That bastard. If he laid a hand on her-"



Jack shook his head firmly. "Gregor wouldn't touch her, Seth. Don't worry on that score. He was the kind of idiot who was disgusted by the very thought of it. Referred to her as a half dog."



"That is so wrong on so many levels, I don't even know where to begin," Topaz muttered. "But I suppose, in this case, it's a blessing. At least she's safe from that."



Roxy eyed Seth, and he squirmed inwardly. He hated like hell to think of himself as anything like Gregor, but he realized he'd had the same initial reaction. Okay, maybe not disgust. He'd been confused; he'd felt betrayed and lied to. He'd been hurt that she hadn't confided in him, and yeah, it had creeped him out a little. But only briefly.



"Where the hell do you suppose Reaper is? Why doesn't Vixen just shape-shift and dart out of that freaking place?" Seth asked.



"If she could, don't you think she would?" Topaz sounded short on patience. "I don't like this waiting. We have to do something."



"I have an idea," Roxy said. "If she really is in Gregor's rooms, those rooms right there, she can escape through the window. It's an easy jump for a vampiress. All we need to do is get those drones out of the way, lure them around back or something, and give her time to get out."



Seth stared at her, stunned at the simplicity of the plan. He gripped her shoulders and kissed her full on the mouth. "I love you, Roxy."



"Yeah, yeah, most men your age do." She smiled and fluttered her lashes. "But there's one caveat to my plan."



"And what's that?"



"We don't get ourselves captured or killed in the process."



Everyone nodded in agreement, and they huddled close to finalize their strategy.