Deadly Desire

Page 33

"Oh, I began paying my price long before I came into the dark magic."
She was still mixing the herbs, and the aroma seemed to be getting stronger. My nose twitched, and despite the pleasing scent, I wasn't entirely sure my reaction was due to pleasure. That scent was still setting alarm bells off, and while I wasn't sure why, I'd learned long ago to listen to such warnings.
I tried twisting my wrist in the cuff, and discovered there was plenty of room to move around in them-but a quick snap back had my fist jamming fast. Still, maybe it I made it slick enough-wet enough-my wrist might just slip through. It was worth trying, and it wasn't as if I had any other option right now anyway.
Of course, the only way I was going to make my skin slippery was to draw blood, and that wasn't going to be pleasant. But it would surely be better than whatever Hanna was planning.
"Is that the other reason why you're killing the vampires? Because of the price you paid personally?"
"They are the killers, every one of them. Rich, dead, and killers reborn. It is an instinct with them, and they deserve nothing more than real death." Her voice had take on a slightly shrill edge, and she was pounding the mix so hard the bowl was in danger of breaking.
Obviously, vampires had done a whole lot more to her than just paralyze Jessica. And I was curious enough to want to know what.
"Not all vampires are bad," I said, still pulling at my wrist. The chains rattled every time I did it, but Hanna didn't seem to notice. I could only hope it remained that way. My skin had grown slippery rather quickly-thanks to the rough edges on the silver cuffs-and the scent of fresh blood filled the air. Thankfully, I was the only nonhuman in the room, so with any sort of luck, she wouldn't realize what I was attempting until it was too late. "Not all vampires deserve to die."
She thumped the pestle down on the table so suddenly I actually jumped. "You kill vampires for a living. You've seen the very worst they can do. Why the hell would you even think any of them deserve to live?"
"Because every race has its good and its bad. You can't judge the entire lot by a few bad examples."
She snorted and walked over to the shelving unit. "They all drink blood. They all have the capacity to go too far."
So did humans, but I didn't think she was going to be receptive to that sort of logic. I gave my wrist another experimental tug and it slipped, ever so slightly, through the cuffs. Not enough to escape, but enough to give me hope that it would work, if I kept persisting.
If she gave me time.
"Killing isn't just the province of vampires."
She swung around to face me, her expression one of pure fury. "It wasn't a human who attacked Jessica and put her in a wheelchair or who sliced my husband's head off in a fit of anger. It wasn't a human who stole and changed my daughter."
Something in the way she said that made my insides go cold. "What do you mean, changed?"
"What do you think I mean?" She slapped a knife and another larger bowl onto the table. "He made her one of them."
Vampires couldn't make humans change with just a bite. That was little more than a Hollywood myth. It took a blood ceremony and consent for a human to cross over, so if Hanna's daughter had become a vampire, she'd done so of her own free will.
The question was, just how badly had Mommy reacted to her daughter's decision?
If the wildness in her eyes was anything to go by, the answer could only be very badly indeed.
"What does your daughter think of you slaughtering her people?"
"Her people?"
Hanna's voice had become so shrill it made my ears ache. She picked up an empty bowl and threw it at me. I had nowhere to go and no way to avoid it, so it hit the top of my head-hard. The blow left me bleeding and stunned, and more determined than ever to get away from this crazy bitch. I yanked at my wrist harder, felt it slip through a little farther. A few more tugs, and I just might be free enough to defend myself.
"My daughter was human," she spat. "And she died human."
Even though I'd suspected that outcome, her words still made me sick. How could any mother, no matter how desperate, ever kill her own child? There were always other options. Always. You just had to reach out and talk to someone.
Though I guess that someone whose grip on sanity had to be fractional, at best, having her daughter turn into one of the "monsters" must have seemed the ultimate betrayal.
"So you killed your own flesh and blood?" I continued to yank at my wrist, the rough metal edges digging deeper and deeper into my flesh. It hurt like hell but I didn't care, because whatever this madwoman was planning to do with the goop in the bowl and that fucking long knife would surely hurt me more.
"I didn't kill her," she refuted, stalking back over to the shelving unit. "I saved her. Or rather, I saved her soul."
"How did you stop her from rising?" I gave a final pull on my wrist and it finally slipped free. The chains rattled like an alarm, and I grabbed wildly at the cuff to stop it from slipping to the floor.
With one wrist free, I could at least defend myself. But actually getting off this table and away from Hanna remained a problem. The numbness from the silver bullet still lodged in my shoulder prevented me from moving my other arm, and tugging on my ankle chains would not only create a whole lot more noise, it would be more visible.
"I bound her to the grave," Hanna said. "It cost me a lot, that binding, but at least I can sleep knowing my daughter is safe."
She selected a canister from the shelving unit and walked back over to the table. She raised the knife, sliced her scarred palm, and let the wound bleed into the smaller bowl. The sweet forest scent changed, suddenly becoming something deeper and darker, and yet still not totally unpleasant.
"Did you stake her?" I asked. "Chop off her head?"
She gave me a shocked sort of look. "Of course not! What do you think I am? A monster, like them?"
"Oh, I think you're something far, far worse, lady."
The words were out before I could stop them, but she merely laughed. It wasn't a sane sound, but that was no surprise.
"Because of the way I kill them? Believe me, I'm only doing to them what they did to my husband, to Jessica, and to my daughter."
"I don't care how you kill the vampires." Which was a lie, because no person, whether human or nonhuman, deserved to die the way those vampires had died-even if they had been the most brutal vampires ever to walk this earth. Which none of these had been.
Of course, I don't deny sometimes wishing a more brutal death on some of the bastards we hunted, but wishing and doing were two extremes that were never going to meet. And the guardian who did sink to the "eye for an eye" mode of thinking soon found himself out the door and on the most-wanted list.
"Then why do you think me a monster?" She picked up the canister and added several pinches of white powder to her mix. There was a flash, like a small explosion, and suddenly the dark, foresty scent was gone. In its place was a fouler, stronger scent that reminded me of the muck the zombie had thrown at me.
But why would she try and freeze me again if she already knew it didn't work? Or was this stuff stronger than the last mix?
God, I hoped not. I might only be half free, but at least I could defend myself if worse came to worst. If that stuff actually worked, I'd be in real trouble.
Like I wasn't already.
"You're a monster because of what you did to your daughter. Because you didn't kill her but instead bound her."
She frowned at me. "She was dead already. I bound her before the change, so what is the problem?"
She didn't get it. She really didn't. What a stupid, stupid bitch. "Binding a body doesn't stop said body from taking the change and rising as one of the undead. It just stops them moving out of the grave or communicating with their maker for help. What you've done is ensure your daughter a living hell of unlife in a coffin, with no hope of escape." I shook my head in contempt. "How could you not know that?"
And I guess it was yet another mess the Directorate would have to clean up. Although whether the daughter would actually be sane enough to rescue after years of being locked underground was another matter entirely-and not one that I'd have to decide. Thankfully.
There was a shocked silence, followed by a vehement, "No!"
"Yes," I spat back. "You would have been better off to stake her from the start."
She stared at me for several long minutes, then shook her head. "I don't believe you."
"Then go to her grave, Hanna. See for yourself."
"I have no need to, wolf." Her voice was flat. She refused to believe she could be wrong, that she could have doomed her daughter to a fate far worse than vampirism. "I know you're only lying to try and save yourself."
I didn't know how lying about her daughter's fate would actually do anything to save myself, but she obviously wasn't thinking clearly, so there was no point in saying anything else.
She walked over to the shelving and picked up a more ornate knife and another larger container, then walked back to the table. She exchanged the knife for the smaller bowl then walked across to where I lay. Luckily for me, she chose the right side rather than the left, and didn't notice I had one hand free.
Not that it would do me any good at the moment, because she simply wasn't close enough.
She placed the larger bowl on the floor, shifting it several times until she was satisfied, then rose and looked at me. "Don't you wonder how I'm about to kill you?"
I snorted softly. "Lady, dead is dead, no matter which way it comes at you."
Besides, she'd already told me she was going to bleed me. It said a lot about her state of mind that she couldn't actually remember that.
"That, I'm sorry to say, is very true."
She didn't look sorry. She looked positively ecstatic. She raised the smaller bowl and scooped her fingers inside, gathering a handful of the powder before throwing it down the length of my body. It took every ounce of control I had not to react, not to show my hand just yet. Truth was, she still wasn't close enough. I just had to hope the dust didn't do its stuff as well as it was supposed to.
The thick cloud settled around me, clogging my eyes and making my nose twitch. And it smelled even fouler than before. My body began tingling even as my muscles seemed to relax and feel oddly weak. Like before, only worse. I twitched my fingers, wriggled my toes. Response was slow, but it was there, at least for the moment. I had to hope it remained that way.
She grabbed another handful and threw it over me again. The tingling increased, and deep down, the wolf bared her teeth and roared to life. Her strength infused me, battling the sleepiness creeping over my body, keeping it at bay if not away altogether.
"If you have any questions, you'd better ask them quickly. It's a much stronger formula this time." Her voice was conversational-like we were best friends rather than mad sorceress and intended victim. "You taught me that this powder doesn't work as well on humans and other nonhumans as it does vampires, so I guess its better to be safe than sorry."
I could only hope she was wrong about the strength of the formula. But I asked my questions quickly, just in case she wasn't. "Did Jessica tell you she sent one of her creatures after the street kid?"
"She was in the room when that blackmailing little bastard rang. Personally, I would rather have taken care of him myself."
I bet. "Then the business cards you gave the teenagers were infused with some form of tracking magic?"
"Of course. How else would I have known exactly where to transport myself?"
She gave me a serene sort of smile, then turned away and walked back to the table. I twitched my extremities again, and was relieved to discover that everything that should wriggle did. The mix might be stronger, it might make the tingling fiercer, but it still wasn't completely freezing me. Which made me wonder if the mix was wrong, or whether the fact that I was a half-breed was fouling the reaction.
She returned carrying the knife. I didn't move, just watched her. To have any sort of chance against the woman, I needed her to get closer. Needed to grab that knife and use it against her flesh rather than mine.
She grabbed my right arm and pulled it away from my body. The arm was numb, so it flopped around like so much dead flesh, and she made a satisfied sound in the back of her throat. I held my tongue and didn't say anything, hopefully giving her the impression the powder had done its work and stolen the power of speech.
With my arm positioned on its side and presumably over the bowl, she clasped the ornate silver knife with both hands and raised it above her head.
Fear slithered through me. The mad bitch was going to cut off my arm. Why else would she need that much leverage to cut flesh? A quick slice along the forearm from the wrist was all it took to get a decent bleed-and yeah, werewolves were tough, but we still had skin like a regular human, not a rhinoceros.
She began to murmur, the words incomprehensible. Maybe it was sorcerer talk, maybe it was a prayer in some old language. I didn't really care, because my attention was on the gleaming knife being held above my body. I'd get only one chance at stopping that knife. Once she realized I was partially free, she'd no doubt either knock me out or kill me, and I wasn't overly thrilled with either option.
She continued to murmur and tension wound through me, tightening my muscles and making my stomach ache. The pain in my shoulder seemed to have retreated, but not the numbness. It was now creeping outward, reaching toward my neck. If I didn't remove the bullet soon, I'd be in real trouble.