Nightbred

The tresora tapped the small screen, which zoomed out to show a map of the South Florida coast. Two lights, one blue and one red, clustered together a few miles off the coast of Miami.



“Herbert.” Lucan looked enormously pleased. “When this is done, I believe I shall send you to my private retreat in the Bahamas with the lady of your choice for as long as you desire.”



“I thank you, my lord, but I already have a lady friend, and we’d much rather prefer Marlins season tickets. Shall I summon the fleet?” When Lucan nodded, Burke bowed and hurried off.



Jamys regarded the suzerain. “You have a fleet?”



Lucan smiled. “Of sorts.”



Aldan brought a cordless phone to Lucan. “There is a call for you, my lord. It is from Vander.”



Lucan’s expression turned icy. “Put it on speaker.” When Aldan pressed a button, he said, “I do hope your affairs are in order, Mr. Vander. You will find them quite impossible to manage when I reduce you to a heap of rotting flesh, which shall be the moment I find you.”



A harsh laugh came over the speaker. “You may look, my lord, but you will not find. But I can be persuaded to give you back your slut. Give me your men and your stronghold, and she is yours.”



“Good-bye, Mr. Vander.” Lucan reached for the phone.



“Would you care to bid your whore the same?” The sound of a scuffle came over the speaker, and then Samantha’s tight voice as she said, “Lucan, we’re in trouble.”



“I know,” he replied, his voice as gentle as his eyes were murderous. “I’m coming, love, very soon now.”



“Vander is Dutch, and he has barricaded hundreds of people inside his casino,” she said. “He’s had his men douse the entire place with gasoline. If you don’t give him Alenfar, he’s going to burn them alive.”



Several bottles behind the bar exploded.



“Don’t worry,” Lucan said. “We know where you are, and we will give him what he wants.”



“I love—,” Samantha said before her voice was cut off and Vander spoke again. “Since you know where I am, you will come and surrender your territory and men to me at sunset tonight. Or I will set your women on fire and toss them in the casino.”



Chapter 18



Chris had known something was wrong with Lucan from the moment they’d left the island. The men piloting the speedboat didn’t belong to the jardin, while the suzerain sat down next to the cage he’d shoved her in and simply stared at the deck.



“Don’t you think you should tell me what’s going on?” she asked. “I mean, am I in trouble? Do I have to leave South Florida? What?”



Lucan’s handsome face lifted, and then began to melt. “I suppose it does no harm,” he muttered as he turned into a thin, snarled-haired woman with a dirty face.



“Oh, God.” Chris shoved herself back into one corner of the cage. “Who are you?”



“My name is Werren.” She tugged down the ragged hem of her tunic, which to Chris’s eyes looked more like a burlap sack than something wearable. “You smell like Kyn, but you are mortal.”



Chris wrapped her arms around her knees to keep them from knocking together. “Are you going to hurt me?”



“No.” Werren nodded at the backs of the two men at the controls. “They will, if you resist.”



“Resist what? Why did you take me?” She thought of Jamys, and shot across the cage. “Did you tranq him? Is that why he couldn’t move?”



“If you mean the boy, no. His affliction was not my doing.” Werren glanced back at the wake behind the boat. “When I came into the house, I felt the presence of another like us. An old one, like Dutch.”



Chris heard the engine throttling down and looked over, squinting as bright lights blinded her momentarily. The men were guiding the speedboat alongside an old-fashioned wooden ship that seemed to be sitting on top of the water. A bump on the side of the speedboat drew her eyes to the side, where a shelf of coral reef appeared just beneath the water’s surface. At the other end of the wooden ship were walkways attached to a bigger, more modern yacht, and ladders that dropped down to the decks of a half-dozen smaller boats.



One of the men caught something thrown down to him from the old ship, and came over to Werren. “He wants to see you on deck, Duchess.” He reached up to the top of the cage and attached the cable before he let out a piercing whistle.



Chris was thrown to the bottom of the cage as it was jerked up into the air. She gripped the bars, looking down at Werren, who touched a finger to her lips before moving to climb off onto one of the ladders.



Chris felt her stomach roll as the cage swayed and jerked, but within minutes she was lowered down onto the deck of the ship, where more men came and removed the crane hook. They stepped aside as a blocky figure strode up and pulled open the door to the cage.



“My Pearl Girl.” Vander bent to grab her by the hair and haul her to her feet. “Now you’ll be servicing me whenever I want it.”



Chris thought of the finger Werren had pressed to her lips, bowed her head, and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from telling him where he could go.



“You see?” Vander told the other men. “This is why you teach them proper while they’re young and still mortal.” He gave her a shake. “You can use that tongue on me later, girl.” He shoved her at one of the men. “Take her below.”



The man hustled her over to an opening above a tiny staircase, and nearly pushed her down it. “Move your ass, slut.”



Chris took the steep steps two at a time until she reached the deck below. The old, splintering planks forming the floor had been patched over with sheets of plywood, vinyl siding, and an assortment of scrap lumber, making the deck look like a quilt patched by a demented carpenter. The guard pushed her again, this time toward an adjoining space that held six empty cages and one occupied by Samantha, who appeared unconscious.



“What did you do to her?” Chris demanded without thinking, and was slammed up against an empty cage.



“I thought you knew how to hold your tongue,” the guard said, jerking her back long enough to open the door to the cage and shove her inside. Once he’d locked her in, he eyed Samantha, and grinned as he dragged Chris’s cage over alongside hers. “There. If she gets hungry and wants a snack, you can stick your arm through the bars.” He laughed as he left the room.



“Chris.” Samantha raised her head to look around them before she slowly pulled herself up into a sitting position. Her right arm hung unmoving, and as she turned, Chris saw the odd bulge under her jacket.



“Who dislocated your shoulder?”



“The asshole that kicked me back down here when I tried to run.” She rested her head against the back of the cage. “You think you can help me pop it back in?”



Chris inspected the space between the bars and their positions before she nodded. “Scoot as close as you can.” She reached for Sam’s limp arm, and gently lifted it. “Brace your feet against the bars. You know in the movies when they say this is gonna hurt like a fucking bitch?”



“Yeah.” Sam screamed as Chris snapped her arm out and to the side.



“They lied.” She reached in to feel the bone, which had slid back into place. “Try moving it now.”



“You’re right. Hurts like ten fucking bitches.” Sam gingerly tested her arm, and glanced up. “Burke didn’t teach you to do that.”



“No, Dan did. Burke had me work with him for a couple months in the infirmary.” She glanced over as Werren entered, carrying a ring of keys. “This one is a shifter.”



“Yeah, I know.” Samantha hauled herself to her feet. “You leave the kid alone.”



“The master has sent me to attend to your instruction.” Werren unlocked both cages and opened the doors. “If you attempt another escape, he will kill the mortal and give you to the hull.”



“Give me how?” Sam asked as she stepped out.



“It is an old punishment,” Werren said. “You will be hung by a rope and dragged up and down against the hull until the barnacles strip the flesh from your back.”



“Coburn,” Sam muttered.



“I vote we don’t try to escape,” Chris said. “What instructions are we supposed to get?”



“I will explain,” Werren said, “when we join the other women.” She gestured for them to follow her.



As the raggedly dressed Kyn led them down another tight stairway, Sam quickly told her everything she knew. Chris didn’t have much to add, other than what had happened between her and Jamys, which she kept to herself. If Vander killed them, it wouldn’t matter that she had agreed to be his human wife.



Werren brought them down to a third level, and through a hatch in a bulkhead to the back of the deck.



She’d seen better living space in juvie, Chris decided as she looked around the empty area. All that decorated the wooden-planked walls was water stains and black streaks of tar or mildew; a sour, dank smell rose from the slatted floor, where the gaps showed them the shallow layer of brackish water beneath them. Dozens of women wearing pretty gowns watched them from where they lay or sat in an irregular spider’s web of ropes hung from the upper beams; it took Chris a moment to realize they were crude hammocks.



Several guards came down the stairs, and one called out for the women to line up.



As Chris watched, each woman climbed down and formed a line in front of a guard. The first woman in line stripped out of her gown and shift, and handed it to the guard in exchange for a ragged sack like the one Werren wore. As the women slipped the ugly tunics over their heads, Chris saw how, like Werren’s, they barely covered the women’s naked bodies.



A guard carrying two more bundles of rags walked over to Chris and Sam. “Take off your clothes.”



Sam stepped in front of Chris. “Not happening, pal.” When he reached for the blade on his belt, she punched him in the face, sending him staggering backward until he landed on his ass. When a second guard came barreling at her, she sidestepped his hands and drove her knee into his abdomen. As he doubled over, she grabbed his collar and heaved him over toward the other men. He was unconscious before he hit the slats at their feet.