He swore softly. Myra was always telling him he was too impetuous. Maybe she was right. Well, no matter, he would take care of all the trivial loose ends later. He would dispose of the witch when he had no further use for her. Witch or vampire, she would not survive the flames. But that was a task for another day. For now, he needed another guinea pig. Luckily, they weren't hard to find.
He beckoned at a pretty little dark-haired female. She smiled back, and then she was walking toward him.
Roshan stared at the ceiling. Ignoring the pain that burned through him, he concentrated on summoning his power, drawing it toward him, focusing it on the chain that bound his right wrist to the table. Teeth clenched, he jerked against the restraint with all the force at his disposal. The movement caused the manacle to cut deeper into his skin, but also pulled one of the links apart, breaking the chain so that his right hand was no longer bound to the table.
He lay there panting heavily for several minutes, and then he jerked against the other chain. Once his hands were no longer bound to the table, he removed the leather strap from his chest and sat up. Moments later, his ankles were also free.
Swinging his legs over the edge of the table, he stood up, one hand grasping the edge. Though he was no longer bound to the table, the silver manacles still circled his wrists and ankles. Lengths of chain dangled from each one, but there was no time to worry about that now. His first priority was Brenna.
CHAPTER 24
Weakened by the silver rubbing against his skin, Roshan made his way toward Anthony Loken's house. Though the holy water had dried long ago, his skin still burned, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered now but getting Brenna away from the warlock before it was too late.
A vile oath exploded from Roshan's lips when he reached the front porch of Loken's house. Pain had dulled his thinking. He was here, with no way to get inside. Had he been at his full strength, he might have tried to cross the threshold in spite of the consequences, but he was too weak to battle the warlock's defenses, and growing weaker by the minute.
Turning, he retraced his steps down the street until he came to another house. He knocked on the front door, waited impatiently for someone to answer his summons.
It was a teenage girl with long blond hair. She wore a red halter top that exposed an indecent amount of skin, and a pair of white shorts that were equally revealing. A small black rose was tattooed on her left shoulder.
"Geez, man, what happened to you?" she asked, looking him up and down.
"I don't have time to explain," he said, trapping her gaze with his. "Come with me."
Without question, she followed him up the hill and onto Loken's front porch.
Roshan handed her a large rock he had picked up along the way. "Break the glass."
She didn't hesitate. Taking the rock from his hand, she tossed it through the narrow window beside the door.
"Now, reach inside and unlock the door."
Again, she did as she was told, her expression carefully blank, even when she cut her hand on a shard of glass. The scent of blood drifted through the air. Without thought, Roshan grabbed her hand and licked the blood from the wound.
"All right,"— he searched her mind for her name—"Jean, I need you to go upstairs and find Brenna. When you find her, you will bring her to me."
"Find Brenna, "Jean said. Opening the door, she disappeared inside the house.
Closing his eyes, Roshan rested his forehead against the doorjamb. He was weary, so weary. In the distance, he heard a woman's voice calling Jean's name. A few minutes later, Jean appeared in the doorway, leading Brenna by the hand.
"Roshan!" Breaking free of the girl's hold, Brenna ran toward him. "What has that monster done to you?"
"I'll be all right. Come, we don't have time to waste."
Brenna glanced over her shoulder. "Who is this girl? What is she doing here?"
"There's no time to explain now. We've got to go. Jean, close the door, then come with me."
Descending the stairs, Roshan started down the hill, closely followed by Jean and Brenna. When they were two doors away from Jean's house, Roshan drew the girl into his arms.
"Brenna, turn away."
"No."
"Do as I say." His voice was low, ragged with pain and a hunger that would no longer be denied. "Please, Brenna."
How could she refuse when he was looking at her like that, his voice filled with anguish and pleading, his eyes already turning red. With a sigh of resignation, she did as he asked, listened as he spoke quietly to the girl, assuring her that he would not hurt her.
Brenna closed her eyes, trying not to imagine him bending over the girl's neck, his lips touching her skin…
A bolt of bright green jealousy shot through Brenna. It was their wedding night! If Roshan needed to feed, why hadn't he asked her? She shook her head, appalled at the turn of her thoughts. She was angry because he was holding another woman in his arms, resentful that he had chosen to feed from someone else.
She heard him speaking to the girl again, telling Jean that all was well, telling her to go home and remember nothing of what had happened.
Brenna turned around when she felt his hand on her shoulder. "Let's go."
"Why?" she asked, her gaze searching his. "Why did you feed off her and not me?"
Roshan stared at his bride, unable to believe that she was jealous. Laughing softly, he took her hand. "This isn't the time or the place to discuss it," he reminded her. "Loken could return any time."
She shivered at the mention of the warlock's name. "Let us hurry."
It took the last of his strength to will them home. Inside the front door, he dropped to his hands and knees, then rolled onto his side. He closed his eyes, panting heavily. But it didn't matter. Brenna was safe now. Nothing else mattered.
Brenna knelt beside him. There was a hideously ugly red mark around his neck. His chest and belly were covered with blisters. The skin on his wrists and ankles was raw and angry looking.
Choking back her tears, she stroked his brow. "What can I do? How can I help?"
He lifted one hand. "Get these off me."
With a nod, she ran upstairs to her room. Grabbing the wand she had finished only days ago, she hurried back to Roshan's side. Clutching the wand she focused on the manacle on his right hand.
"Rimuova!"
There was a soft click, and the manacle fell to the floor. She repeated the spell on his left hand and each ankle, then kicked the shackles aside.
She touched his chest with her fingertips, jerked her hand away when he winced at her touch. "Is there anything I can do?" she asked, wishing she had some aloe to apply to the burns.
With an effort, he opened his eyes. "I'll be all right in a few days. If Loken tries to come here, the wards should keep him out. If I don't rise tomorrow night, don't worry… "
Her eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
"The Dark Sleep heals me. I may not awake at sunset." He rolled onto his knees then sat back on his heels and cupped her face in his hands. "Not much of a honeymoon, Mrs. DeLongpre," he murmured. "I'm sorry."
"We will just have to wait a few days." She looked at him, her worry evident in her eyes. "Maybe you should go downstairs and rest."
He nodded. "Will you be all right?"
"I am not afraid."
"You're not a very good liar, either," he said with a faint smile. "I love you."
"I love you."
He kissed her, a quick brush of his lips across hers, and then he opened the door to his lair and disappeared into the darkness beyond.
Anthony Loken stared at the empty table in disbelief. The vampire couldn't have escaped the chains. It was impossible. Everyone knew silver rendered the undead weak and helpless. Yet the fact remained that the creature was nowhere in sight.
A shiver slid down Loken's spine. The vampire was far more powerful than he had imagined! And then, stroking the vial in his pocket, he smiled. There was nothing to fear. All it meant was that once he had injected the vampire's blood into his own veins, he would be even stronger than he had hoped. But first he had two more tests to perform.
Glancing over his shoulder, he gestured for the young man and woman to enter the lab.
The girl stared in horror at the body laid out on the table against the far wall. Had she been able, he was certain she would have run screaming from the room, but her mind and her will were no longer her own.
Lifting the body, Loken placed it on the floor in the corner and covered it with a sheet. He would have to dispose of it soon, he thought irritably. It was starting to stink.
When both of his subjects were in place on their respective tables, he removed two vials from the tray. He injected the man with the first vial, held the second to the woman's lips and commanded her to drink. She stared at him, helpless to resist, her eyes wide with fear and revulsion. Almost, he felt sorry for her.
Standing between the two tables, Loken watched them intently. In moments, they were both shrieking and writhing in pain. In a matter of minutes, they were both dead, their skin gray and shriveled, their eyes wide and frightened, even in death.
Rage exploded through Loken. A swipe of his hand swept the tray from the counter. The vials shattered on the cement floor. Blood sprayed across the room, painting the walls with streaks of crimson.
With a wordless cry, he drove his fist into the wall once, twice, three times. Pain exploded through his knuckles and up his arm, bringing him back to his senses. Pulling his handkerchief from his back pocket, he wrapped it around his bleeding knuckles. Perhaps he was overreacting. Maybe his first theory had been right after all. Perhaps the deaths of these two subjects just proved that the blood mixture he had used on Brenna was only effective on witches and therefore perfectly safe for him to use on himself.
Looking at the mess on the floor, he swore again. He had just destroyed all the blood samples he had.
Hands clenched at his side, he took a deep calming breath. He had captured the vampire once, he could do it again. He would draw the remaining blood from the first corpse and refrigerate it, then he would dispose of all three bodies. When that was done, he would do the remaining tests on the witch.