23 Hours: A Vengeful Vampire Tale(50)

The camera on its tripod went flying across the room, clanging against a chair and knocking a half-dead to the floor. And then Malvern was standing right next to the warden, holding her by the throat.

“Ye come to me as a supplicant, begging the greatest gift any of your kind may receive,” Malvern said, very softly. “Ye call me your mistress, and beg to offer me your fealty. And then ye question my decisions.”

The warden tried to say something, but all that emerged from her throat was a choking gasp.

“Are ye really so impatient,” Malvern asked, “to come to my favor? To take on my form? Let us see.”

The vampire needed only one hand to hold the warden in place. She brought up her other hand and laid the ball of her thumb against the warden’s eye. “I am not your friend,” Malvern said, “nor your partner yet. I am your liege.” Then she shoved her thumb into the warden’s eye socket.

The human woman managed to scream as blood and vitreous fluid ran down her cheek. Malvern kept pressing until the warden’s face turned purple and her remaining eye rolled up in her head. Then she dropped the warden to the floor.

Clara could only watch, and slowly bring her arm down, careful not to activate the alarm on her restraint. She didn’t want to do anything to draw attention to herself.

“There will be no rebellion in my lair,” Malvern said. “Cleanse her wound, and pack it with linen.” A half-dead rushed to the door of the command center, where a first-aid kit was clipped to the wall. It brought bandages and antiseptic to treat the warden’s ruined face.

“You… why?” the warden moaned, clutching her cheek. Her fingers moved up to probe where her eye had been. When she found nothing there she screamed again. “You didn’t have to do that! Now I’ll spend eternity looking like a freak!”

Malvern glared down at her. “Looking as I do, ye mean. I think it well. But perhaps ye’d like more hurts to remember me by? I could pluck out your tongue, ye who think it best to blare my intentions to every corner of this place. I could tear the ears from your head, or pull your nose into a new shape. Would ye like that?”

The warden shook her head violently. She fought away the hands of the half-dead who was trying to staunch her bleeding and grabbed the bandages away from it. “No, of course not. No. That is to say… I. I’m sorry. I forgot myself. For a second.” She paused to shriek as she dabbed at her eye with the antiseptic cream. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Not if ye wish to survive ’til morning comes.” Malvern glanced up at the windows. “Now. I really must away. Ye’ll keep our hostage at her ease, I trust.”

“Of course,” the warden said, slowly rising to her feet.





26.

It means,” Caxton said, trying to explain to Gert what the vampire wanted, “that in twenty-three hours she’s going to kill my girlfriend. Unless I go and surrender myself to her. Agree to become a vampire and serve her forever.”

“That’s your girlfriend?” Gert asked. She looked up at the security monitor where the same piece of video was looping endlessly. “Huh. She’s cute.”

The video monitors flicked off and Caxton dropped heavily into the guard post’s sole chair. She put her face in her hands and closed her eyes. Let her shoulders fall. This… was bad. Up to that point her main concern had been for her own safety. Her big plan was just to escape, and let someone else deal with the hell that had descended on the prison. Caxton had been prepared well enough for that job. It was easy to keep herself alive—it just took desperation.

Now things had changed. She had a new duty to fulfill. One that would take brains.

She looked up, and over at the door they’d used to get into the loading dock. It wasn’t jumping in its frame anymore. The half-deads were making no attempt to get at them. It looked like Caxton was going to be given some time to think over Malvern’s ultimatum. “Okay,” she said, and Gert looked over at her. Gert’s eyes were wide and expectant. Like a kid waiting for her mommy to tell her what to do. “It’s dawn. That’s why she gave me twenty-three hours. Twenty-three hours from now will be one hour before dawn tomorrow—just enough time to pass on her curse to me before she has to go back in her coffin.”

Gert glanced over at the sky, visible through the gated outer bays of the loading dock. The sky was turning a weak yellow color and a few purple clouds were sailing by overhead. Gert nodded, as if to confirm what Caxton had said. “Okay, that’s not much time. But for right now—it’s daylight! So we’re safe now, right? Vampires can’t do shit during the day. I saw it on the Discovery Channel once.”