Big Game
Chapter Thirty-one
Paul
I huddle in a corner, crying softly. Afraid if I close my eyes to the darkness I'll never wake again. Remembering all I'll lose if I pass out works as a good motivator, but as the sun creeps higher in the sky, I'm not so sure how much longer I'll last.
Hugging my legs to my chest, I begin to rock, replaying the past few days in my mind. The horrors of the week came at us fast and furious. I think over every choice, wondering what went wrong, when did this trip slip so far out of control.
Was it our impulsive decision to rent a plane and fly here? Would staying on an island with humans mind-altered by Vivian's enemies be any better? The rhythm of the small back and forth motion offers a lull to my scattered thoughts, steering my mind to a time I rocked my son in my arms, soothing him when he woke with a fever one night.
Will I see him again? Will I hold either child again, or will I die in this stinky hellhole underground? I dry my eyes with the back of one hand, disgusted by my emotional breakdown, but still unable to shake the feelings of despair.
Steps sound in the hall outside, pausing when they reach my door. "I hear him crying behind this one," Drew's hushed tone comes through the dark.
"I'm in here!" I scramble to my feet and follow the wall to the door, avoiding the broken furniture.
The door crashes against the opposite wall and Rafe's scent spills in with the light. "Come on, Paul. Let's go."
I trip as I cross the threshold, my tiredness making me clumsy. Drew catches me and draws me to his side, away from the hard visage of our master's husband. I nod my thanks while staring at Rafe. His rugged, good looks have transformed into a face that sparks pure terror into my soul.
His blue eyes glint like chips of ice, his clenched jaw makes the muscles of his neck stand out, and a hollowness in his cheeks lends an air of madness to him. I've never experienced the self-assured and relaxed man do more than raise his voice, and yet, right now he appears like a person comfortable with murder.
I pull back, shocked at what I see. I glance at Drew, and he looks away, discouraging any questions on my part. Without a word, Rafe kicks in the next door.
"She's here somewhere." He flicks on the light and looks around before marching to the next door. "I'm not stopping until I find her."
He carries on like this along the entire hallway. At the last door, he rushes in and hope blooms within me. Drew and I race to the doorway. He gets there first and holds up an arm to keep me back. Rafe straddles the sleeping form of a black haired vampire, the greasy strands sticking against the golden skin of the man's forehead. Rafe raises a dagger and plunges it straight into the unresisting vampire.
Drew shoves me into the hall, whispering, "You don't want to see this, Paul."
I land against the far wall, staring back at Drew, my mouth hanging open. "What the hell is going on?"
The sickening sounds of hacking flesh and the scent of vampire blood billow from the room. A wave of nausea hits me, forcing me to double over and wrap my arms around my middle.
"Dear God," I choke out. "Has he gone mad?"
All of a sudden I wonder if I'm dreaming. There's no way Rafe is on the other side of that wall butchering a vampire while the creature sleeps, is there? Aside from the moment in the hangar when I attacked Emiko, I've never fought anyone, even in self-defense. I haven't been dead long enough that the thought of butchering someone in cold blood appeals to me, either.
Drew steps away from the door and slides down the wall-the shock of fighting exhaustion and the call to sleep clearly plague the other man, too. "He's a demon possessed, searching for Vivian."
"Is there a chance she's still alive?" I ask.
Rafe looms in the doorway, staring down the hall, not looking at us. "Of course she's alive. I would know if she wasn't." He strides through the corridor, heading for the stairs. "Keep up or I'll leave you behind."
Drew and I lurch to our feet, the weight of the sun and our recent healing from the fall through the trap door taking its toll. Our staggering steps give Rafe pause and a flash of the man I knew flicks across his face and disappears. "You two move like zombies," he says, a trace of humor in his voice.
"Good," Drew quips back, his exhaustion making him reckless. "Glad we fucking amuse you, you ruthless bastard."
Rafe gets in Drew's face. "Do you have a problem with how I'm handling the situation?" There's no fear on the larger man's expression as he stands toe to toe with the smaller, hundred and fifty year old vampire.
"If by a problem you mean watching you hack out the hearts of vampires like you're carving a Sunday ham?" Drew asks. "Then yeah, I may have a problem."
A stillness comes over Rafe, making his earlier quip about zombies seem like it didn't happen. "What do you think they're doing to my wife? Calmly questioning her to reveal what she knows about manipulators?" His eyes cut to me, and I gasp. "Do you think she'd give up Paul no matter what they did to her?" He steps closer and Drew retreats. "Or do you think they're torturing her beyond all she can handle, to the point when her own sanity may break?"
The stiffness in Drew's spine deflates, and he slumps against the wall. "I'm sorry, Rafe. You're right. I'm stretched beyond all I can handle." He runs a hand over his face. "I don't know what good we are. And frankly, you're scaring the crap out of me."
Rafe punches him lightly in the shoulder. "Buck up. Let's get you two closer to the surface and hide you someplace while I continue on."
"If you waited 'til after we slept," I say. "We'd be able to help."
He snorts and climbs the stairs two at a time. "Yeah, and everyone would be awake, too. Think, man-the best time to strike is when they are very weak or sleeping. Anything else is suicide."
The logic of what he says sinks in, but I'm no help, dragging one foot after another, hoping like hell I can stay upright long enough to do as he bids.
We climb two flights of stairs, not encountering anyone in the elaborate underground warren. No surprise, since the time is well past noon and any smart vampires are tucked in their beds.
This floor looks different from the others. The ceilings are higher, and the lighting is better. The man Drew accused of being a wizard steps into the hall, stopping Rafe with his sudden appearance. "It'll be easier if I tell you where she is," he says and looks away, perhaps not liking what he sees on Rafe's face.
"Why would you help us?" Rafe asks, clenching his fists, looking like he's going to leap on the man and beat the information out of him if the wizard changes his mind.
The young man meets his gaze. "Because I was hired to place security wards on the Tribunal property. Elaborate work, acting like an early warning system. I was apprehensive when Cora approached me to cast a binding spell. If I had known where it was going to lead, I would have refused the extra money." He squares his shoulders and raises his head. "I've no desire to get in the middle of a vampire feud."
"Well, bully for you, Justin." Rafe steps closer and draws his knife. "You're in the middle of it, now."
Justin shrugs. "Yeah, well, maybe telling you where she is will matter for something when the shit hits the fan." He smiles a crooked grin, slow and sure of himself, with a measure of respect showing in his eyes toward Rafe. "And trust me, I'd bet my bottom dollar when the head honchos wake up tonight there's going to be hell to pay."
Rafe nods, accepting his explanation of self-preservation. "Lead on."
The two move down the hall, and I fall to the floor, my exhaustion finally getting the better of me. Drew trips on my foot and crashes on top of me.
"Crap," Rafe says. "This is as far as they go. Help me drag them into a closet and then let's get going."
I hear their steps toward us... and then nothing.
I huddle in a corner, crying softly. Afraid if I close my eyes to the darkness I'll never wake again. Remembering all I'll lose if I pass out works as a good motivator, but as the sun creeps higher in the sky, I'm not so sure how much longer I'll last.
Hugging my legs to my chest, I begin to rock, replaying the past few days in my mind. The horrors of the week came at us fast and furious. I think over every choice, wondering what went wrong, when did this trip slip so far out of control.
Was it our impulsive decision to rent a plane and fly here? Would staying on an island with humans mind-altered by Vivian's enemies be any better? The rhythm of the small back and forth motion offers a lull to my scattered thoughts, steering my mind to a time I rocked my son in my arms, soothing him when he woke with a fever one night.
Will I see him again? Will I hold either child again, or will I die in this stinky hellhole underground? I dry my eyes with the back of one hand, disgusted by my emotional breakdown, but still unable to shake the feelings of despair.
Steps sound in the hall outside, pausing when they reach my door. "I hear him crying behind this one," Drew's hushed tone comes through the dark.
"I'm in here!" I scramble to my feet and follow the wall to the door, avoiding the broken furniture.
The door crashes against the opposite wall and Rafe's scent spills in with the light. "Come on, Paul. Let's go."
I trip as I cross the threshold, my tiredness making me clumsy. Drew catches me and draws me to his side, away from the hard visage of our master's husband. I nod my thanks while staring at Rafe. His rugged, good looks have transformed into a face that sparks pure terror into my soul.
His blue eyes glint like chips of ice, his clenched jaw makes the muscles of his neck stand out, and a hollowness in his cheeks lends an air of madness to him. I've never experienced the self-assured and relaxed man do more than raise his voice, and yet, right now he appears like a person comfortable with murder.
I pull back, shocked at what I see. I glance at Drew, and he looks away, discouraging any questions on my part. Without a word, Rafe kicks in the next door.
"She's here somewhere." He flicks on the light and looks around before marching to the next door. "I'm not stopping until I find her."
He carries on like this along the entire hallway. At the last door, he rushes in and hope blooms within me. Drew and I race to the doorway. He gets there first and holds up an arm to keep me back. Rafe straddles the sleeping form of a black haired vampire, the greasy strands sticking against the golden skin of the man's forehead. Rafe raises a dagger and plunges it straight into the unresisting vampire.
Drew shoves me into the hall, whispering, "You don't want to see this, Paul."
I land against the far wall, staring back at Drew, my mouth hanging open. "What the hell is going on?"
The sickening sounds of hacking flesh and the scent of vampire blood billow from the room. A wave of nausea hits me, forcing me to double over and wrap my arms around my middle.
"Dear God," I choke out. "Has he gone mad?"
All of a sudden I wonder if I'm dreaming. There's no way Rafe is on the other side of that wall butchering a vampire while the creature sleeps, is there? Aside from the moment in the hangar when I attacked Emiko, I've never fought anyone, even in self-defense. I haven't been dead long enough that the thought of butchering someone in cold blood appeals to me, either.
Drew steps away from the door and slides down the wall-the shock of fighting exhaustion and the call to sleep clearly plague the other man, too. "He's a demon possessed, searching for Vivian."
"Is there a chance she's still alive?" I ask.
Rafe looms in the doorway, staring down the hall, not looking at us. "Of course she's alive. I would know if she wasn't." He strides through the corridor, heading for the stairs. "Keep up or I'll leave you behind."
Drew and I lurch to our feet, the weight of the sun and our recent healing from the fall through the trap door taking its toll. Our staggering steps give Rafe pause and a flash of the man I knew flicks across his face and disappears. "You two move like zombies," he says, a trace of humor in his voice.
"Good," Drew quips back, his exhaustion making him reckless. "Glad we fucking amuse you, you ruthless bastard."
Rafe gets in Drew's face. "Do you have a problem with how I'm handling the situation?" There's no fear on the larger man's expression as he stands toe to toe with the smaller, hundred and fifty year old vampire.
"If by a problem you mean watching you hack out the hearts of vampires like you're carving a Sunday ham?" Drew asks. "Then yeah, I may have a problem."
A stillness comes over Rafe, making his earlier quip about zombies seem like it didn't happen. "What do you think they're doing to my wife? Calmly questioning her to reveal what she knows about manipulators?" His eyes cut to me, and I gasp. "Do you think she'd give up Paul no matter what they did to her?" He steps closer and Drew retreats. "Or do you think they're torturing her beyond all she can handle, to the point when her own sanity may break?"
The stiffness in Drew's spine deflates, and he slumps against the wall. "I'm sorry, Rafe. You're right. I'm stretched beyond all I can handle." He runs a hand over his face. "I don't know what good we are. And frankly, you're scaring the crap out of me."
Rafe punches him lightly in the shoulder. "Buck up. Let's get you two closer to the surface and hide you someplace while I continue on."
"If you waited 'til after we slept," I say. "We'd be able to help."
He snorts and climbs the stairs two at a time. "Yeah, and everyone would be awake, too. Think, man-the best time to strike is when they are very weak or sleeping. Anything else is suicide."
The logic of what he says sinks in, but I'm no help, dragging one foot after another, hoping like hell I can stay upright long enough to do as he bids.
We climb two flights of stairs, not encountering anyone in the elaborate underground warren. No surprise, since the time is well past noon and any smart vampires are tucked in their beds.
This floor looks different from the others. The ceilings are higher, and the lighting is better. The man Drew accused of being a wizard steps into the hall, stopping Rafe with his sudden appearance. "It'll be easier if I tell you where she is," he says and looks away, perhaps not liking what he sees on Rafe's face.
"Why would you help us?" Rafe asks, clenching his fists, looking like he's going to leap on the man and beat the information out of him if the wizard changes his mind.
The young man meets his gaze. "Because I was hired to place security wards on the Tribunal property. Elaborate work, acting like an early warning system. I was apprehensive when Cora approached me to cast a binding spell. If I had known where it was going to lead, I would have refused the extra money." He squares his shoulders and raises his head. "I've no desire to get in the middle of a vampire feud."
"Well, bully for you, Justin." Rafe steps closer and draws his knife. "You're in the middle of it, now."
Justin shrugs. "Yeah, well, maybe telling you where she is will matter for something when the shit hits the fan." He smiles a crooked grin, slow and sure of himself, with a measure of respect showing in his eyes toward Rafe. "And trust me, I'd bet my bottom dollar when the head honchos wake up tonight there's going to be hell to pay."
Rafe nods, accepting his explanation of self-preservation. "Lead on."
The two move down the hall, and I fall to the floor, my exhaustion finally getting the better of me. Drew trips on my foot and crashes on top of me.
"Crap," Rafe says. "This is as far as they go. Help me drag them into a closet and then let's get going."
I hear their steps toward us... and then nothing.
