Dominion of the Damned (8 page)

“Thanks. I’ll see you at lunch, okay?”

Hannah nodded, then followed the others who were already heading out of the cafeteria. They led her back through a series of barred gates that eventually led to a regular wooden door. It opened into the hallway down which the guards had escorted her the previous morning.

This time it was flanked by a pair of guards, male and female. The woman was a pretty redhead who fixed her gaze straight ahead as the line of humans passed by. The man might have been handsome, but the way he leered at Hannah made him repulsive.

“Fresh meat,” he said as she passed within earshot. Hannah kept her eyes on the back of the person in front of her as she reached the door. The guard leaned in and made a slurping noise in her ear. “Gonna get me a taste of that,” he said after she walked by. Hannah suppressed a shudder, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

The line into the infirmary was short, but it was rapidly lengthening behind her. Hannah tried to tell herself it was just like lining up for the blood mobile, but nothing could get her over her disgust at being nothing more than food to these sons of bitches. She fixed her attention on the door at the end of the hall. It had an electronic lock with a slot for a sliding key card. She wondered where it led. Was Noah somewhere on the other side?

Before she could give it much thought, she was ushered into the infirmary. Despite what Phyllis had told her, she’d half-expected to find some kind of chamber of horrors, with people hung up like slabs of beef while the life drained out of them. But it really was just as mundane as Phyllis had said, with people reclining on infirmary cots as their blood traveled through tubing into plastic plasma bags.

She was shown to a cot and told to lie down. A brunette in black who appeared as young as Hannah immediately grabbed her right arm and swabbed the crook of her elbow. When the vampire turned to the tray behind her, Hannah noticed a key card hanging from her belt, within easy reach. The vampire had her back completely turned to Hannah, and she seemed intent on unwrapping a package of tubing. After glancing around to make sure nobody was watching, Hannah reached for the belt clip and gently slid it off. She lay back down and held the key card against her stomach, concealing it under her hand, as the vampire turned back around.

Roughly, she took hold of Hannah’s arm and jammed the needle into her vein. “Ow!” Hannah complained, but the vampire didn’t apologize. She didn’t even acknowledge that Hannah had spoken.

She adjusted the bag that hung on the side of the cot and ordered, “Lie still,” before moving on to the next cot. Once her back was turned, Hannah slid the card inside her jumpsuit and let go of the breath she’d been holding. She closed her eyes, but opened them again moments later, startled, when a pair of gentle hands took hold of her arm.

“Did she hurt you?” asked Konstantin as he examined the shunt. Hannah tensed up at his touch, but she didn’t pull away from him this time. He was just doing his job, and she had to admit, his bedside manner was better than that of a lot of the human doctors she’d worked with as a nursing student.

“She was a little rough, but I’ll live.”

The corner of his mouth turned up in a wry half-smile. “Yes, I suppose you will. But I apologize, regardless. I’ll speak with her about being more gentle.” His face turned more serious as he leaned down to switch the already full plasma bag for an empty one. “I need to talk to you,” he whispered. “Not here. Meet me—”

“Dr. Konstantin!” a male vampire called to him from across the room. “I can’t find the vein.”

He nodded, and looked back at Hannah. “I’ll be right back,” he said before going to help the other vampire, but Hannah wasn’t about to wait. She watched the bag fill, willing it to fill faster, while Konstantin and the others were distracted.

As soon as it filled completely, she sat up, fighting lightheadedness as she pulled the tray over. She clamped the tube and disconnected it from the shunt, then found a syringe full of saline and flushed the shunt before sliding the needle out of her arm. She covered the tiny wound with a cotton ball and squeezed her elbow shut over it for a minute. Finally, she closed off the second bag and laid it on the tray next to the first. She was tempted to take the bags with her and dispose of them later, out of spite, but she left them there and headed out of the infirmary.

Her head swam and the floor tilted a little, but she managed to stay upright as she exited into the hall. She paused to look at the door with the key card lock, but people in the line were watching her. She nodded to them and headed back the way she had come. She had to pass back by the two vampire guards. The male guard made a big show of sniffing her as she passed. He called out, “You smell sweet!”

Hannah ignored him and followed the trail of people to the end, where she got back in line. The man in front of her turned to give her a questioning look, but she kept her head down and avoided eye contact. He shrugged and turned back around.

The line moved slowly. After what felt like a small eternity, she found herself back in view of the guards. She kept her head down, letting her hair fall in front of her face. She watched the male vampire through the veil of her long bangs. As she drew closer he did a double-take and eyed her suspiciously for a moment, but he let her pass without comment.

Finally, she reached the infirmary again. As the man in front of her was ushered inside, Hannah turned to make sure nobody had entered the hallway behind her. With everyone inside the infirmary distracted, she slipped past the entrance and hurried to the door at the end of the hall. She pulled the key card out of her jumpsuit and slid it through the lock. Immediately, she heard it click and turn. Checking behind her once more, she quietly opened the door and stepped through.

EIGHT

Only Alek would have the audacity to barge into Esme’s office without knocking. He slammed the door behind him and stormed over to her desk, where she sat talking on the phone. “Where is she?”

Esme held up a finger, refusing to be interrupted. “Yes,” she said to the caller, “I understand. Of course I’ll comply. But you understand this goes against my best judgment.”

Alek leaned over and placed his palms on the desk. “Where is she?” He said it slowly, enunciating each syllable for emphasis.

“Yes, my lord,” Esme continued her conversation. “He’s here right now. I’ll tell him.” She hung up and leaned back in her chair. “That was Lord Balthazar. He called to inform me that the Council approved your request.” She shook her head and laughed, bitterly. “You bastard. How dare you go over my head?”

He straightened and looked down at her. “I wouldn’t have to if you were reasonable, instead of letting old feelings and petty jealousies get in the way of—”

“Of what, Alek?” She bolted from her chair and came around the desk to face him head on. “Of allowing your feelings, your soft, bleeding heart to dictate how I run my camp? If I allowed you to take every doe-eyed human who caught your fancy, I’d have nothing left!”

“What have you done with her, Esme?”

“Who, the girl? Nothing. She was scheduled to make her contribution today. Have you checked the infirmary?”

“She was there. I changed her bag myself. But since then no one has seen her. Nobody remembers discharging her, and she hasn’t shown up to her work assignment. I’ve looked everywhere for her.”

Esme folded her arms. “So naturally you assumed that I’ve resorted to nefarious measures to ensure you can’t have her.”

He snorted. “As if you’re above that.”

“Touché. But as you just witnessed, I only now learned of the Council’s orders. Why would I bother hiding the girl if I stupidly thought my command was enough to keep her here?” She stepped closer, invading his personal space. He stood his ground. “What did you tell them, Alek? How did you convince them to let you have the girl?”

“The same thing I told you. That I require her to care for the boy. They seemed to think it was a perfectly reasonable request.”

“And why, exactly, do you need the infant? What are you really up to at that commune of yours?”

“What do you mean? You know my work.”

“Yes, I know what you claim is your work. I know what you’ve been ordered to research. But you’ve never exactly been one to follow orders. And it’s funny. None of the other researchers require children. And believe it or not, some of them are more brilliant than you, my dear Alexandr.” She leaned in closer, close enough to share breath. Close enough to kiss. He swallowed. She thought she saw a flicker of temptation in his eyes, and it lit a spark of hope deep within her. But he turned away and began pacing the room.

“They’re fools,” he said. “The blood of children is more pure. It hasn’t been exposed to as many illnesses or toxins.”

“But what difference does it make? Synthetic blood won’t have any of those things anyway.”

“It makes a difference in the cloning samples. Look, we’re wasting time,” he said, changing the subject. Esme knew he was hiding something if he was loathe to discuss his work. Alek loved nothing more than to bore anyone in earshot with his scientific babble. “I’m leaving at sunset. And I’m leaving with the girl. Find her.”

“Ya vol, mein herr,” she said, sticking her arm out in a salute. The hurt and hateful look he gave her made her instantly regret the little joke. Of course he wouldn’t find it the least bit amusing. Esme leaned against the desk and sighed. “She’s probably snooping around, considering her escape options, knowing that one.”

“Why? Has she been trouble?”

“No, but it’s only a matter of time. You could see it in her eyes, the defiance, the sense that she’s biding her time until her opportunity presents itself. That one is more trouble than she’s worth.” She flicked her wrist, as if to sweep the problem of the girl toward Alek. “You’re welcome to her. Have Celine organize a search.”

He glared at her a bit longer, the muscles in his jaw working themselves into a frenzy as he chewed on his anger. At last, he nodded, and went to the door.

“And don’t think I don’t know what you’re really up to at that camp of yours,” she said. He paused with his hand on the doorknob. He didn’t look at her. “You’re not one of them, Alek. You haven’t been for a very long time. You’re not their savior. You’re a killer. Like me. The sooner you accept that, the happier you’ll be.”

He kept his gaze fixed on the doorknob as his mouth turned up in an ironic smile. Softly he said, “I will never be like you, Esme.” He opened the door. “That’s why we couldn’t work,” he said, stepping into the hall. He looked at her then and added, “That’s why we never will.” He closed the door behind him.

Esme scowled at the door for a long moment before going to the bookcase and helping herself to the warden’s Scotch. She was going to go through the entire stash at this rate. She poured herself a glass, and as she brought it to her lips, she imagined what she must look like, and laughed. Alek was causing her to turn to drink like a spurned housewife. Her laugh turned to a scream of rage as she threw the glass at the door. It shattered, raining pieces on the floor as the liquid ran down the door.

The bastard thought he was so much better than her. Did he even remember the pleasure he’d once taken from the kill? Esme remembered. The look of ecstasy on his face as he gorged himself on Nazi blood was permanently etched on her mind’s eye. So was the look of pure, raw desire as she’d welcomed him into her arms, into her bed, his Angel of Mercy, showing him pleasures beyond anything his mortal mind had been capable of dreaming. And he had been an eager pupil, every step of the way.

Until the last night. Their last night together, when his love for her—if whatever he had felt for her could be called love—had grown as cold as her usefulness to him.

She could still see him there, standing in the middle of that tavern in Berlin, surrounded by the mutilated bodies of his poor little wife’s tormentors and murderers. Blood soaked his shirt, covered his mouth, neck and hands as he stared at his reflection in the mirrored wall behind the bar. “I’m a monster,” he’d said, and truer words had never been spoken. He was glorious.

And he was done with her. He had accomplished his mission, and he had no more need of angels, avenging or otherwise.

“Ingrate,” she muttered as she returned to her desk. She sat down and leaned back in her chair, rapping her fingernails on the oaken desk. She felt like she wanted to tear out of her own skin. She considered the mess of broken glass over by the door and thought of pouring herself another one. But alcohol couldn’t possibly come close to tempering her need. Alek had left her full of anger and lust. She needed a physical outlet. She needed to satisfy the urges boiling over inside her, in her stomach and between her legs.

More than anything, she needed fresh, hot blood.

She leaned over her desk and pushed a button on the intercom. “Celine, I’ve had an accident. Send someone from the cleaning crew to my office.” She paused before adding, “Make it male. Youthful and strong. And then go and join the others in searching for that wretched girl. I don’t wish to be disturbed.”

“Yes, mistress,” came Celine’s voice over the intercom. Esme smiled. Celine had been made for greater things than a glorified prison secretary, but Esme knew she could count on her discretion. She sat back and, like a jungle cat in the tall grass lying in wait for its prey, watched the door.

The moment stretched tortuously into long minutes as Esme’s hunger drove her closer and closer to the edge. At last, someone rapped on the door to her office. She pushed her chair back from the desk, the better to show off her legs. “Come in.”