A Blood Seduction (Vamp City #1)(62)

She pulled off her boots and sank down onto the soft bed, lying back, her fists to her eyes as she struggled to block out the image of Zack's being hauled before her, his fingers cut off one by one as she was forced to watch. Bile rose in the back of her throat, her stomach clenching, her eyes stinging. Hatred burned inside her for the monster who could threaten such an atrocity with such ease, one who'd done it before and so much worse. So much worse.

In that moment, she hated Arturo, hated him for his loyalty to such a man, such a creature. He would stand there and watch his master torture her brother and refuse to say one word to stop him. She knew it, and she couldn't forgive him for that. Why did she keep letting him kiss her?

Swiping at the tears that were slipping down into her hair, she blinked, staring up at the ceiling. She let him because she liked it. She liked him, dammit. The lesser of a hundred evils, and all that, she supposed. Compared to Cristoff, he was a certified saint. But he was also a manipulator. A liar, when it suited him. And he was utterly loyal to a monster.

Rolling onto her side, she curled into the fetal position and let misery and, finally, sleep, carry her away.

Quinn stood in the frozen food aisle of the grocery store, staring at the door of the ice-cream section, which had begun to bulge strangely. Light suddenly burst out around the edges. Quinn gasped and lunged, pressing against it. No! The light pushed to escape, screaming in her ears, fighting against her until the door pulsed and groaned, threatening to shatter. But she held on tight, turning to push her back against the freezing glass. No! If the light escaped, something terrible would happen. Terrible!

Across the aisle, twelve-year-old Zack sat, leaning back against the frozen-orange-juice door, his legs crossed, head bent low over his GameBoy.

Don't look, Zack.

She struggled against the troublesome, stubborn light until she was panting from exertion, her arms weak with strain. But she couldn't stop fighting. If she pushed hard enough and long enough, the light would die and go away. No one would ever know.

Zack would never know.

Quinn woke with a start, sitting up, groggy and confused.

A sound. At the door.

She tensed as the door opened, then frowned as a woman she'd never seen before slipped inside. A woman with the faintly glowing hair of a Slava.

Quinn struggled out of the pit of the bed and onto her feet, brushing her tangled hair out of her face.

The woman, as tall as Quinn and dressed in black pants and a black T-shirt that had been turned inside out, clasped her hands nervously in front of her. "I'm here to help you escape."

Quinn's flesh tingled. "Why?" She shook her head, trying to clear it. Was she still dreaming?

Impatience crossed plain, sharp features, lightning-fast. "Grant sent me. Do you want to leave Vamp City or not?" With that, she opened the door, looked both ways, and slipped outside.

Crap. Give a girl a minute to wake up before you spring something like that. But . . . hell, yes, I want to escape.

Quinn grabbed her boots and slipped out the door, closing it behind her, then, on silent feet, ran after the woman. She caught up to her just as the woman stopped in front of a door four down from Quinn's own and clicked her fingernails against it, one after the other, in a careful rhythm. A moment later, the door opened.

The woman slipped inside, and Quinn followed, nodding to the man holding the door, a tall, dark-skinned male dressed in the same all-black clothing as the woman, an impressive dragon tattoo curling around his forearm. But his close-cropped curls were lacking that Slava shine. Holy hell.

As he closed the door behind him, she whirled on him. "You're a vampire."

"No way." He turned and lifted his shirt, showing her a back sporting fresh, ugly welts that probably looked a lot like the ones decorating her own back now. "New slave, just like you. Hopefully, a soon-to-be ex-slave. Move," he said stiffly.

Quinn turned back to the room - one identical to her own except for the manhole in the center of the floor. And the ladder leading down.

Escape. If this was a dream, she was going to be thoroughly pissed.

The woman grabbed a flashlight off the washstand as the man started down the ladder. Quinn shoved her feet in her boots and tied the laces with fast, excited fingers.

"Quickly." At the woman's silent urging to precede her down, Quinn hurried to the hole, grabbed the top rail, and swung herself onto the ladder. As she started down, she heard the woman follow, accompanied by the soft squeak of hinges and the click of the hatch. The room's light disappeared, to be replaced by the flashlight beam. How was such an obvious manhole hidden from the vampires' eyes?

Down and down she climbed, damp rock on every side. She knew nothing about these people, whether they were really sent by Grant, whether Grant was even friend or foe. But any risk was worth the chance of escape and the possibility of finding Zack before Cristoff went after him.

She heard booted feet hit the stone floor below her and knew that the man must have landed. A second flashlight erupted behind her, allowing her to see the last few rungs. The man said nothing as she joined him, but his eyes gleamed with excitement. Why? Had these two been sent by another of Cristoff's rivals to kidnap her? Was this guy looking for some kind of reward for bringing her in?

It didn't matter. One way or another, she'd make this work to her advantage.

The woman completed her descent, then led the way down a long tunnel deep beneath the castle as Quinn followed, the man bringing up the rear.