Chapter Four
The bag of expired packed red blood cells in Viktor’s hand was cold and lifeless. Eoin had procured it from the local blood bank. The hospitals would be forced to destroy the bag anyway.
“Yum yum, old blood. You know how to make a friend feel special.” He bounced it, the fluid thick and dark red.
“It’s all I could obtain. Your usual sources refuse to come to the castle and I had business elsewhere then New Port today.”
“My sources would come if you did not insist on scaring them each time.” He bit into the bag and drained the contents in a few gulps. It tasted like chemicals. The blood banks spun the cells free of plasma so it was more concentrated for transfusions—less fluid more hemoglobin. They also added preservatives to keep the blood from clotting. This was a vampire’s equivalent to a Twinkie. It eased the hunger but he distrusted its nutritional value.
“Their choice of business makes me question their character. Do I want them to feel comfortable? I think not. I have a mate to think of now. Her safety comes first.”
It was interesting to watch Eoin’s evolution from terror of the skies to lovesick puppy. Yet he managed to maintain his fearful reputation. The dragon seemed more unstable when it came to Angie’s happiness.
“Why do you have cat kennels?” Trixie still plagued Viktor. No matter how hard he tried to forget, his thoughts circled back around to her. Was it bloodlust or just lust?
Eoin watched from the other side of the room, arms crossed while he leaned against the wall. He shrugged. “I adopted some cats to take care of the rodent population. Angie hates rats and mice.”
“Cats? You have pets now?”
“I’m surprised you haven’t seen them. They’re inquisitive creatures.”
“They are also intelligent. They know not to come down here.”
Eoin grimaced. “Unlike a certain human girl.”
“Trixie.” Would he seek her out once he was set free? No, she was better off if he stayed away.
He had to stop fooling himself—of course, he would hunt her down. What he would do with her was what concerned him.
“How much longer do you plan on keeping me here?” He tugged at the silver infused titanium collar welded around his neck. He had yet to break it. This was his fourth time being locked in Eoin’s dungeon for killing.
It was in his nature to hunt humans, but vampires did not need to kill to feed. Eoin and the others just assumed he was an asshole. Older supernaturals had all killed people. Those had been different times. Dragons, vampires, and shifters had all eaten humans at some point in history, hence Eoin’s tolerance of Viktor’s slips. It was only in present time that they were expected to respect human authority.
Viktor didn’t kill out of malice though. He was ashamed to admit he had control issues. It didn’t take much. The vampire council understood and turned a blind eye to his indiscretions. He, on the other hand, could not ignore the fact that while others had changed with the times, he was locked in bad habits.
For one hundred years, he had tried to stop killing. Most of the time he did a good job at keeping his prey alive, but most wasn’t good enough.
“I set you loose too soon last time. It’s only been a decade since the last time you were chained in my dungeon. You shouldn’t have slipped and killed someone so soon.” The dragon eyed him from head to toe. “You’re running out of skin for your victims’ names. What then?”
“I did not harm the girl. She stood right here by the wall and I did not lay a finger on her.” Except to touch her hair. Odd that he would want to do that before tasting her soft skin.
Eoin pushed off. “I only have your word on that. She could have been standing outside your reach the whole time.” He shook his head. “No, when I make a mistake someone suffers for it. A few of those names I carved onto your flesh are just as much my responsibility.”
Viktor bared his fangs and snarled at him, proving the dragon right. Again. He was not ready. Hunger rode vampires unlike any other supernatural that existed. Let their control slip just a little and it took over. Unfortunately for him, his hunger threshold was unpredictable. He envied those who had been taught the proper ways of feeding as fledglings. He, instead, had been abandoned as a wild animal and regret was his constant companion.
He tossed the empty bag of blood at Eoin. Residual droplets flew in the air, landing on his friend. The dragon did not comprehend Viktor’s complicated past or what drove him. Only a select few of his kind knew and even they were losing patience with him.
Eoin grabbed him by the throat. “If I let you out, I’ll only have to carve a new name into your hide tomorrow night. It’s too soon, Viktor. And you know it, so stop giving me and Angie a hard time.”
“Your girlfriend would taste better than this bagged shit you bring me.” He managed to force the words past Eoin’s constricting fingers. Why did he antagonize the black dragon of New Port? Because he was the only one strong enough to kill him. They had been friends since Eoin had moved into the castle. The dragon trusted Viktor enough to let him ink his skin use it as his personal canvas. The tattoos Eoin bore were some of Viktor’s best work.
“Leave Angie out of this. If she had it her way, you’d already be a pile of ashes in my sunny courtyard.” Eoin tossed Viktor against the wall and a few of his ribs broke. “You touch her, I’ll drop you into the deepest hole I can find and forget you ever existed. Death is too good for you.”
Viktor sank to the ground with his back to the cool wall and tore the stained shirt off his back. He examined his flanks. No bones poked out. He had to be sure. They were a bitch to reset if they healed that way. “I thought we were friends.”
“We are.” Eoin squatted so they could be eye to eye. “That’s why you’re still alive.” Eoin wiped the blood splatter off his face.
“Angie hates me that much? She does not even know me.”
The dragon frowned. “It’s not you as much as what you are. She tolerates your being here because you told me about the magic tattoo shit that Ken’s mate had inked on her arm.”
“It makes me happy that my plan worked. How long did it take for the effects of the magic spell to fade?” He had met Betty by accident. Like Trixie, she had stumbled into his cell. The little shifter had black magic needled into her skin.
Werewolves. All that strength and passion yet so little brains.
“She shifted a few hours later.”
“Dark magic.” Viktor leaned forward, grinning at his oldest friend. “We should hunt down this witch like the old days.”
“Oh yes, we should. I’m sure the evening news would love to cover a witch burning.”
“You grow boring as you age. You worry too much about the media.”
“You don’t worry enough.” The dragon rubbed his jaw. “I also don’t think the spell was intentional.”
He sat up straighter. “What do you mean? How do you accidentally cast a spell? Magic doesn’t work that way.”
Eoin tossed him an annoyed look. “I know how magic works.” He sighed. “We agree that the symbol is the source of the spell and not the ink?”
He nodded.
“Well, Betty admits to choosing that design. No one forced it upon her.”
“Choosing? From what?” A sinking sensation in his gut.
Eoin’s expression darkened. He looked more his dragon self than human. “A book the artist owned. She offered it to Betty to flip through since she hadn’t decided what she wanted inked. I don’t think this artist is aware of what they own.”
The sound of Viktor’s hand smacking his own forehead echoed within the prison cell. “They are using a spell book for tattoo art choices?” Oh, the havoc this person could cause. It would be Salem all over again.
Eoin chuckled. “Apparently.”
“This is not a laughing matter. It is a miracle they have not summoned Gozer The Destructor.”
“Gozer? You watched the DVDs I gave you last Christmas. I thought you avoided modern entertainment.”
“I was bored.” He liked television and movies, but it was a past time enjoyed better with company. Watching those DVDs only confirmed his belief. Books were a better way to spend time alone.
“She’s a tattoo artist, not Merlin. Tone down the dramatics.” Eoin straighten to stand.
And he followed. “I am Russian. Drama flows in my veins. You should take this more seriously.”
“Not my territory.” The dragon shook his head. “The artist is dhampir, by the way.”
Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose, staving off a growing headache. Dhampir were rare. Half-human, half-vampire. They also fell into his jurisdiction. “Trouble in Riverbend tends to flow into New Port.” The cities were only two hours apart and both were considered Viktor’s hunting ground by vampire law. He did not understand why Eoin only wanted one city.
“I’ll send a message to the local wolf pack alpha if it will make you feel better.”
“I would feel better if you released me and let me take care of this. Riverbend’s vampire nest answers to me, after all. That includes dhampir. Plus, the nest leader is a huge pain in my ass.”
“No, you’re not ready to leave.” The dragon pulled out a set of dice. “Want to play? I’d like to win back some of my dignity.”
Viktor sighed and returned to his spot against the wall. “You have no luck, friend.”
Eoin would not release him. Long ago they had made a deal. Eoin would lock him away for everyone’s safety when Viktor asked, and not let him free until he deemed him sane. Viktor had asked for this fucking chain.
Later that evening, Trixie sat on the edge of the tub and watched Ruby prepare for work. The diner had a retro theme so she wore a uniform. Short skirt and a button-down blouse with a small waist apron. Ruby piled her long, curled hair in an old fashion hair-do. “Sammie’s making the fish special tonight. You want me to bring some home?” She spoke around the hairpins in her mouth.
“Sure, I’ll eat anything.” They couldn’t afford to be picky eaters. She rose to her feet and came around behind her sister to help with stray curls. Ruby always tried to look her best. She said it was for the tips, but Trixie had seen her put this much effort just to go grocery shopping. Trixie wished she could look so put together and beautiful. She was lucky to apply mascara without poking herself in the eye.
“Thanks.” Ruby took the stray strands and artfully added them to the pile. Turning her head, she examined her refection. “Perfect. When is Betty returning from her honeymoon?”
Ruby and Betty had met through her. They liked clubbing together and dragging her along. “Uh, next week I think. Why?” She doubted the newlyweds would want to go dancing with them.
“I want to see if she’ll introduce me to Ken’s dad.”
“The alpha? He’s old enough to be your dad.” She swatted Ruby’s shameless ass.
“Dads are never that hot, and he’s rich, so if he wants me to call him daddy, I’d be fine with it.”
Trixie gagged. “You’re nasty.”
She kissed Trixie’s cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark. “Life is too short to be anything else. Now, what are your plans tonight?”
“Steal a car, take it for a joy ride to the dragon’s castle, and stake a handsome vampire in their dungeon.” She gave Ruby her million-dollar smile. There was no point in lying. Trixie had learned to tell Ruby her crazy plans without hesitation—that way her sister never believed them.
Ruby patted her cheek. “That’s my girl. You have my number if you need bail money.”
“Yep.” See, Ruby hadn’t believed her when she was being honest. Deadly honest.
She’d decided this morning that the only way to ensure her and Ruby’s safety was to take out the one person who would care that she knew vampires existed.
She followed her sister to the apartment door and locked it once it closed.
Pressing her back to the wall, she scanned her home. What could she use for a stake? Yes, she was planning murder. The murder of a dead man who killed people. Angie had admitted Viktor was a bad person. Dragons didn’t lock up nice, law abiding citizens or their dungeons would have been full. The only occupant she’d seen was one badass vampire.
Who she had no idea how to kill. The only information she had on the subject came from movies and books. Some vampires walked in the sun and sparkled, others spontaneously combusted in the light. Some vampires were born as vampires, and so on. But the one thing most had in common was a wooden stake through the heart. Was it a myth? Maybe. Pretty much anything could be killed when you stabbed in the heart. It was a chance she’d have to take because Eoin might be letting Viktor out soon.
She searched her apartment for anything wooden and long. The only thing resembling a stake was a wooden baking spoon. With a knife, she carved the end of the handle to a sharp point. That would do the job.
How did she plan to kill a vampire who was both faster and stronger than she? He was chained to a freaking wall. It wasn’t like he could run away. Now, if she reached the castle only to discover he’d been let loose, all bets were off and she’d leave the city with her sister in tow.
Trixie pulled on a windbreaker—the top of the mountain was cooler than in the city—and caught the bus to downtown New Port.
Stealing a car was easier than most people thought, especially in this neighborhood. She’d been doing it since before owning a driver’s license. She had left that life behind after her first stint in juvie, but there was no other way for her to travel to the castle. No free way. She hadn’t the cash to pay for a taxi. Once she was done with the car, she’d leave it close to where she’d stolen it so the police could return it to the owners, with a little gas missing. And maybe a sorry note.
A jimmied lock later, she bent under the steering wheel of a later-model vehicle. The older cars were the easiest to steal. The less computerized the better. She hotwired it to start. Just like riding a bicycle.
She drove to the castle. Her palms sweated and her heart drummed. The larger the stone building grew ahead, the less confident Trixie felt. Trixie, vampire slayer, didn’t have a ring to it.
Then Ruby texted her. I’m going to work a double tonight. Don’t wait up. She was pulling extra hours to make rent and bring home food this week because Trixie had screwed up. Not to mention, Ruby didn’t know her life was in danger because Trixie was nosy. Trixie wanted to tell Ruby everything. She wanted Ruby to talk her out of this.
In the end though, Trixie knew she’d regret either decision. If she didn’t kill Viktor, she was pretty sure they’d be on his dinner menu. If she killed Viktor, she’d be no better than him. Given this choice, she picked being a killer.
Contrary to everything she had done in the last twenty-four hours, she wasn’t a total idiot. She parked the stolen car along the road out of sight of the castle. Though she had a checkered past, breaking and entering castles were not on her resume. She’d had a hard time finding a light switch this morning so she highly doubted that they had a security system.
Creeping along the tree lined road, she kept an eye on the sky for Eoin or Angie. Moonlight lit the stone structure as thin clouds streamed past the bright orb. The stone gargoyles didn’t move and she couldn’t tell which were real. In the distance, a wolf howled.
Her spine snapped straight. “Are you kidding me?” The werewolf pack must be out hunting. She hoped. Shifters wouldn’t hunt humans but the real wolves weren’t as discriminatory. She caught her breath and waited for her heartbeat to slow. She didn’t want to do this.
She pocketed her spoon/stake and wiped her hand down her face. What else could she do to protect her family? Doom settled on her soul. She could make a deal with Viktor. He wanted out. That would mean she’d have to trust the word of a self-proclaimed crazy vamp.
She hung her head. Maybe there was something else he wanted? She ran her fingers over her throat. Standing outside wouldn’t solve her problem. She had to go speak with him. Worst case scenario, she’d pull out her stake.
The place appeared quiet. Nothing moved. She raced across the courtyard to the front door. She pushed. It was unlocked, because who would be crazy enough to break into this place? Once it was open enough, she slipped inside the blinding darkness. She’d had the forethought to bring a flashlight but the narrow beam was swallowed by the enormity of the place.
One careful step at a time, she left the safety of the exit. She held her hand out, hoping the light would encounter a wall to guide her back to the stairwell. Blinking didn’t help her eyesight, but that didn’t stop her from trying.
The light brushed over the stone wall and she breathed a sigh of relief. According to her memory, she only had to follow this hallway and the stairwell would be on her right.
The walk seemed longer but she knew it was her imagination. She kept her hand to the wall as a guide and used the flashlight to search for the stairwell entrance. Quiet blanketed the castle. It was eerie for a city girl used to background noise.
Light illuminated the stairs and she grinned in triumph. Her fingers brushed over a rough, irregular surface. She twisted toward the wall with her light and came face to face with a gargoyle.
He was stone still.
She jumped. She couldn’t help it. The reflex was a kneejerk to weird shit.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” he said, his voice ground like gravel.
She stumbled backward.
“Watch the stairs!” he shouted. His outstretched clawed hand grabbed for her, stone wings spreading behind him.
Her next step met only air.
This was going to hurt.