Thrall (A Vampire Romance)(4)

His hand grips mine. Hard. I can’t pull loose, and I shriek in panic and really pull, but he still holds on. I give him a shove that should rip his arm out of his socket, but he doesn’t let go. He’s got my other arm and he picks me up off the ground and I kick my feet and thrash. I throw my head back and hear a thump when the back of my skull hits his nose. That makes him let go. I shake loose and bolt.

Two steps later a sledgehammer hits me in the back. That’s what it feels like, before fire rips through my body and I go down. My limbs won’t do what I tell them to and I’m shaking, my arms and legs writhing around out of my control.

My bones creak as every muscle in my body clenches all at once. When he rolls me over and pulls the taser barbs out of my back I realize what happened. He stuffs it back in his suit pocket and picks me up from the ground, gingerly, like a newlywed. He holds me in his arms so my head falls against his chest.

Oh God.

He carries me back to the van and throws me over his shoulder, fireman style. I can’t move, just stare at my arms dangling towards the ground as he yanks the van doors open and gingerly lowers me to the floor, cradling my head with his hand. He tucks me inside the bag, pulling it up around me before he grasps the zipper and drags the world away.

I’m in a body bag.





Chapter Two





During the trip, the sun rises. I can’t see it but I can feel it. There’s a moment of awareness and in my mind’s eye I see the cleansing light sweeping over everything, pushing the dark back into tiny corners and low places, and then my consciousness gutters out and I’m gone.

No time at all passes between the coming of sleep and waking up. My eyes pop open and I lay there disoriented, trying to adjust to my surroundings. I feel something I rarely experience anymore, fatigue. My muscles are actually sore, and I feel like I could actually willingly go to sleep if I close my eyes. Normally I’d have no trouble moving but it feels like there’s bags of sand piled on my chest as I try to sit up.

When I do and I get a look at my surroundings, I want to laugh. At least I’m not being dissected. I half expected a lab, either clean and modern and made of stainless steel and latex or some creepy old mansion’s basement, all stone and bubbling beakers and a hunchback.

What I get is a library, the personal study of someone with money. The books climb the walls on all four sides, broken only by a huge hearth and a set of gigantic, shuttered windows behind the ornate desk. There’s a pair of chairs facing the dead fire and someone is sitting in one, reading a book.

A book claps closed and the occupant stands up. It’s the guy from last night, in the same clothes. He looks tired. There’s bags under his eyes and red marks on his cheeks that might be the tracks of tears, but I’m sure I’m just making that up.

Standing up is even harder than sitting. I’m wobbly on my feet, and my head swims when I move. When I take a step I feel like I’m going to fall down. I move towards him, not sure what I mean to do when I get there. He watches, and sighs softly as I run head first into an invisible wall. I feel it with a brush of my hand, then reach out and touch it. I can see my skin flatten against the gentle curve, liked pressing against glass, and look down.

The floor is carpeted but where I’m standing there’s a circle of bare stone. Deep channels cut across the surface in a pattern I don’t recognize. The lines form many symbols, most prominently a five pointed star, the kind I used to fill my notebooks with when I was a bored little girl in… I blink a few times. The memory is gone before I realize it’s coming back. I choke it down. Nothing is worse than those random flashes, reminders that I used to be a human. Almost nothing.

Something is going to go bad here. I can feel it coming.

“What is this?”

“It’s a magic circle. A Greater Circle of Binding, to be exact.”

I snort. “There’s no such thing as magic.”

“Said the vampire,” he sighs.

“That’s different.”

He moves closer to the circle’s edge and I step back, backing my way across until I hit the other side, another invisible barrier. Or the same, I suppose, running around.

“How is it different?”

“I have a disease.” I don’t sound very confident.

“You don’t know anything about yourself, do you?”

I keep still, fighting the impulse to shake my head. I’m not giving him anything.

“Where are we? What do you want with me?”

“We’re in my home and it’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

He sighs and looks down at his hands. “You wouldn’t understand half of what I had to say.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“No, you’re not. You’re as smart as you are…” he trails off.

I swallow. “Last night, you… what are you?”

“My name is Michael. Yours is Christine.”

“How do you know that?”

He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a creased square of paper. Then it hits me. He has my picture.

In a blind, shrieking fury, I throw myself at him. I hit the wall and push against it, clawing the air.

“That’s mine. Give it back!”

He unfolds it and shows it to me.