Chapter Nine – Maribel
The drive in the van was long. Sheridan sat across from Maribel with guns pressed into his chest and head. It was more frightening than the pistol Phil kept tucked under her chin.
So much for not wanting to hurt her.
Sheridan's gaze was unblinking. Maribel knew that if he was given the chance he would burst free of the steel handcuffs his hands had been put into. If that happened, Phil and his men would be sorry.
By the time they stopped driving, they were well out of the city. Maribel's whole body ached and her head pounded from the tension she had been holding in. She had been wracking her brains trying to think of a way out of this, but every now and then Phil pushed the gun harder to her chin and fear froze her.
Sheridan was taken out of the van first. When Maribel followed, she saw that they were in a lumber yard of some sort. Large, rough planks of wood lay everywhere, and smaller pieces were heaped in gray piles.
Armstrong was already waiting, standing next to two thick posts nailed together in a T-shape that lay on the ground.
"Finally," she said. "We'll show the world how to deal with vampires."
"You're going to start a monologue?" Sheridan rose a brow. "Really?"
Armstrong ignored him. "You know, the ancient Romans used crucifixion as punishment against the lowest of people living in their society? Slaves. Enemies. The only citizens killed by crucifixion were traitors."
Bile rose in Maribel's throat as Armstrong held up a mesh bag filled with long silver stakes. They looked like railroad nails.
"It was also used on vampires," Armstrong continued. "Fitting to put them with the rest of the trash. Vampires did it to each other, too, didn't they? They crucified their traitors with silver."
Maribel looked at Sheridan. He glanced at the bag of stakes and laughed. She could see a glimmer of fear in his eyes, though, and knew she wasn't the only one. Armstrong smirked at him, a gleam in her own eye.
Sheridan gestured to the T-shaped cross on the ground. "You're going to nail me to a cross? What good is that going to do?"
"When the vampires see you hanging there like a slave or traitor, they'll fall back on the old ways. They will attack, and the bleeding hearts that rule this nation will have no choice but to wipe you out."
Sheridan's smile faded. "I could snap all your necks before you had a chance to blink."
"Before Phil here could pull the trigger?"
The king's shoulders slumped.
"Sheridan, no."
"It's okay, Maribel." Sheridan locked eyes with her. "Don't watch."
Armstrong pointed to a cross that had already been prepared. Never breaking eye contact with his nemesis, Sheridan took off his suit jacket and laid down. Phil twisted Maribel away when Armstrong handed the first spike to one of the men.
"Stop," Maribel pleaded, struggling. "Stop, please."
"Don't," Phil hissed in her ear. "Look, you might have only been a mark to me, but I was telling the truth when I said I came to care about you. Part of the reason I took this job was so that I could protect you from getting killed. But I won't be able to save you if you don't shut your mouth. I've convinced Armstrong that you're pregnant with my child, don't blow it or she'll cut your throat."
Was he telling the truth? Maribel stopped struggling. The hammer strikes rang in her ears and the gun was still pressed to her chin, but everything else faded away. Her heart felt like it was bleeding, but what could she do? She was only one person and terribly outnumbered.
And if what Phil was saying was true, was there a chance that Sheridan's long-awaited child would survive this? That hope gave her the strength to stay still and listen to the hammer coming down.
Phil turned and watched, but Maribel kept her eyes closed, sobbing openly. Each blow rang through the still air, matched by grunts of pain from Sheridan. Her stomach churned and she thought she might vomit or pass out. Her legs were too weak and she sagged against Phil.
When he finally let her go, she knew it was over. She fell to her knees, retching. And when she started to raise her eyes, Sheridan's voice, thick with pain but still strong, rang out.
"Don't look!"
Maribel froze. She trembled, fighting the desire to look at her husband and show him he wasn't alone. Sobs shook her body.
"Oh, let her look." Armstrong's voice was full of malice. "Let her see what you've become. The vampire king, dying as a slave would have. Soon the vampire taint will be cleansed from off the face of the earth."
Maribel's eyes rose against her will. She cried out again, then clamped her hands over her mouth. Sheridan lay on the ground, the wooden cross beneath him. His arms were outstretched, those thick silver nails piercing his wrists, ankles, and shoulders. Dark blood trickled from the wounds and his already pale skin looked translucent. His chest heaved and his eyelids fluttered.
"Put him up," Armstrong ordered and turned to Maribel. She pulled a pistol out from under her jacket "Everything that vampires have tainted must be cleansed."
"Wait." Phil stepped in front of her. "Wait. He brainwashed her—"
"She's tainted."
"You promised me."
"And you've never lied?" Armstrong smiled at Phil, showing all her teeth. She looked deranged. "Everything touched by vampires must be destroyed. And you spent time with them, those vampires. Don't worry, I'll be sure to put your money to a good cause."
Phil cursed and rose his gun, but Armstrong was quicker. The gunshot rang through the air. Smoke rose from the pistol in Armstrong's hand. Phil stumbled back, eyes widening. Blood poured from his chest. He blinked once and collapsed. He lay there, unmoving.
Maribel pulled in a deep breath. The gun pointed at her now and she froze. She stared up at Armstrong's merciless eyes. A part of her was relieved that she would die with Sheridan.
But her heart sank. Her arms wrapped around her stomach. If she died, so did their baby.
"Please," she whispered.
Sheridan grunted. Armstrong ignored him but Maribel turned to where the men were lifting the cross from the ground. Sweat broke over her king's face. His muscles bulged. With a roar that filled the air with rage, he yanked his body off the cross. The silver spikes ripped out chunks of wood. He fell to his knees, his howl of rage turning to pain.
The men dropped the cross and rose their guns. Sheridan's hands came together and he pulled a spike from one of his wrists. Bullets flew all over the place. Armstrong shouted, firing her gun again and again. Sheridan lurched forward and drove the silver stake into her heart.
Armstrong's men stopped firing their weapons. Everything seemed to go still as Sheridan withdrew the stake, pain and anger twisting his face. The human stumbled back, gasping.
"Fitting," Sheridan spat, "that you would die like the vampires you despise so much."
Armstrong dropped. Sheridan turned to her two men. He pulled the second stake from his other wrist and ran at them. They dropped their guns and fled. Neither of them turned. Neither saw Sheridan stumble and fall. He lay on his face, unmoving.
"No," Maribel whispered. She dragged herself to her feet and ran to him, tears running down her face. "Sheridan! Don't leave me."
She rolled him over with effort. His eyes rolled wildly, his face ashen. Maribel's heart jumped to her throat. The silver was poisoning him. She set to work quickly, grasping the ends of the stakes that had been driven through his body and pulling them out. Each wound was crusted with dead, black skin, like an old scab left to fester. The smell of burning flesh made her stomach roil. She choked back bile and continued.
When she was finally done, Maribel pulled him into her arms as best as she could. Numerous holes riddled his body. There was nothing she could do about the bullets inside his body. His eyelids flickered, and when his gaze focused on her he shook his head.
"Maribel," he groaned.
"I'm here," she whispered. "I'm here, I'm not going to leave you."
"No. You have to get away."
Maribel held him tighter. "I'm not leaving you."
"You have to go. I need to feed. I need blood. You have to go, or…" His gaze fastened on her neck. "Go, Maribel. Please. I don't want to live if it means killing you. Please. Call Billie. She'll know what to do. Just go before I lose control. Go! Now!"
Maribel's heart hammered. She shook her head. "I'm not leaving."
"Don't argue with me."
"No. You don't argue with me. If I leave you'll die."
Sheridan groaned, eyes rolling.
Maribel shook him hard. "Don't you dare leave me! Stay with me, Sheridan. I love you. Drink from me. You aren't going to kill me. Please. For me. I don't want to… I don't want to have to live without you."
She kissed him hard. Sheridan was still. Slowly, one of his hands rose. It combed through her hair before resting on the nape of her neck. He guided her neck to his mouth and kissed her throat gently. Maribel's skin tingled and she shivered. She braced herself against the ground.
"Count to ten and stop me." He grasped one of the silver stakes and pressed it into his hand. "Drive it back into my wound if you have to."
Maribel nodded. She closed her eyes. His breath was cold against her skin. His fangs grazed her skin. A sharp sting made her gasp. The sting turned more painful and she couldn't stop herself from crying out. And then the pain was gone. She felt Sheridan suck. A rush coursed through her. It wasn't pain, but it wasn't pleasure either. It was something else, something that made her arms buckle. She fell down over him.
"One," she gasped. "Two. Three."
Another pull. Sparks exploded over her vision. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head.
"Four. Five. Six. Seven."
Sheridan held her tighter.
"Eight."
His hands clenched her arms.
"Nine."
He released her abruptly, gasping. Maribel’s heart beat wildly, exhaustion running through her blood. The world swayed beneath her. But she rose her head just the same. Sheridan looked down at her. Their eyes met. His face was regaining what little color it normally had. He brushed his fingers against her cheek.
"Ten," she whispered. "Told you."
"Yes, you did." His eyes closed. "You're always right."
"Are you going to be okay?"
"Yes. I just need to rest for a moment. Then we can go home."
"Home," Maribel whispered. "That sounds good."