Twilight Vendetta (22 page)

Emma felt the texture of the straps against her skin, the tackiness of the vinyl covered padding on the table behind her. She felt the coolness of the cement floor beneath her bare feet, and the low thread count in the cotton hospital gown she wore. It had been put on her from the front and wasn’t fastened in the back, so it barely stayed put on her shoulders.

The two people in the room with her were the same two from before. Commander Hobbs, who was apparently in charge of this secret DPI-run prison, and the woman in the white lab coat, who was, she gathered, in charge of the torture itself.

“Dr. Mengele, I presume,” she said, and almost smiled at the beautiful music that was her own voice. She’d never heard it so thoroughly before, and during her time alone in the cell, she’d had little call to speak out loud.

“That’s not funny,” the woman said.

“It’s accurate, though.”

Emma thought she heard the woman say, “It’s not the same at all. It’s really not. They’re not human beings. They’re vampires. Animals.” Only the doctor hadn’t moved her mouth at all.

Oh my God, I’m reading her thoughts!
Emma realized it with a little surge of awe at her newfound powers. So many of them. So much to learn. She said, “I
was
a human being until you two changed me. And now you’re going to torture me for information I don’t have. When what you should be doing is talking to me. My God, don’t you want to know what I’m feeling? How this change has affected me?”

The doctor did want to know. Emma felt it in her, but Hobbs spoke first. “The only thing we want to know right now is where your friend is.”

He’s so wrong. We want to know so much more than that,
the woman in the white coat thought.

“I can tell you one thing you’ve had wrong all along,” Emma said. “I don’t feel like I’ve lost my capacity for emotion. I still feel. My love for my father, my fear for him, it’s all just as strong as it was before. Maybe even stronger. Other than that, it’s pretty amazing. My senses are so sharpened, so heightened, I...I can see colors and textures in such vibrant detail. I can smell
everything
. Like right now, somewhere not far from here, there are men eating chicken. Fried chicken and mashed potatoes...” She wrinkled her nose. “...from a box. And gravy from a jar. God, didn’t anyone ever tell you people how bad processed food is for you?”

She honed her senses further and heard the men talking. This was their last meal here. They were prepping to “bug out” as they called it. The vampire who had escaped knew their location and would likely return.

This was good news for Emma. Or she hoped it was. If they were all leaving this place, they wouldn’t have as much time to torture her.

“We need you to tell us where he went,” said the woman. So far, Commander Hobbs seemed content to stay quiet and observe.

“I don’t know. We were both wandering when we met on the road. I was in trouble and since I’m one of The Chosen–at least, I was–he came to my aid. I told him about my father’s arrest, and he came with me to help get him out. I don’t know anything more about him than that.”

“She’s lying,” Hobbs said. “Let’s get on with this, Dr. Bouchard.

“And what about the two Offspring?” Bouchard asked her.

She frowned deeply. “I don’t know what that is.”

Hobbs rolled his eyes. “The two mutant fucks we had in cells when you arrived. We know the vampire was here to get them out. What do you know about them?”

“The kids, you mean? The two teenagers? The only thing I know about them is that they didn’t belong in the vampire version of Gitmo. As soon as I saw them, I wanted to help them.
The vampire
probably felt the same way.”

“Bullshit.”

She shrugged and the hospital gown fell down her front, stopping just above her breasts, but hanging there by little more than friction.

Hobbs went to the wall and wheeled a cart toward her. It was a recognizable piece of equipment. She’d seen it in every medical drama she’d ever watched on TV. It held a box with knobs and a dial, and two paddles connected to it by curly cables, like old fashioned telephone cords. It was a defibrillator.

“Shock her,” Hobbs commanded.

Emma felt the doctor cringe inwardly and found herself listening to every thought that crossed her mind. She didn’t want to do what Hobbs told her, but didn’t feel she had a choice. She reminded herself that Emma was just a vampire. It was true, Bouchard thought, that she wouldn’t have been if they hadn’t changed her, but what was done was done. The girl was no longer human. She had no rights, no feelings. No soul.

Emma heard all of that whisper through Bouchard’s mind as clearly as if she’d said it all out loud.

“You don’t need to hurt me. I’ll tell you anything I know, there’s just...not much. Vampires aren’t known for pouring out their life stories to stupid BDs who get into trouble. In fact, I can tell you that this vampire in particular hated that he didn’t have a choice about it. He resented me from the second we met.”

Bouchard glanced at Hobbs. With an impatient look, Hobbs went to the machine and turned it on. Emma heard it powering up and fear clawed at her chest and throat. She tried to get a whisper of what was going on inside Hobbs’ mind, but she found nothing there.
He must be blocking. Didn’t Dev say they were trained to do that?

Hobbs picked up the paddles, brought them toward her, held them in front of her chest, almost touching. “What was his name? This male vampire you befriended?”

“Oliver!” She blurted the first name that popped into her head, her father’s name.

“Wrong answer.” Hobbs pressed the paddles to her chest and released a bolt of energy. It felt like being hit by a freight train. It was powerful and brief, and it wrung a scream from the depths of her being. And then he took the paddles away, and she just hung there, twitching and trembling, the straps on the table the only thing keeping her upright.

“What was his name?” he asked again. He turned the dial, and she knew that meant there would be more power this time. A higher voltage or something. Then he brought the paddles near her chest, and she closed her eyes. “Devlin. His name is Devlin.”

“That’s better. Now, where is he staying?”

Sobs began to rack her body. She opened her eyes and met his. Such pretty eyes on such an ugly soul. “I s-swear, I don’t know.”

He pressed the paddles to her breasts this time, and he was smiling when he released their charge.

Sarafina and Willem Stone knelt outside the compound on either side of him, very near where he’d been crouching beside Emma only days ago. He’d retrieved his phone from the hollow in the tree, dead and in need of a charger he didn’t have. The other three were already gone.

Devlin could feel Emma’s pain. But Willem Stone’s cameras had picked up undeniable signs that the entire camp was preparing to evacuate. Their best chance to rescue Emma would be while they were in transit. Devlin couldn’t bear leaving her there an hour longer than was necessary. It was killing him to wait, even now.

Then Stone said, “Look, they’re loading the trucks. They said something earlier about finding the keys under a Jeep. That mean anything to you?”

Devlin shook his head and watched. Vehicles large and small were forming a line near the lopsided and vine-covered gate that was supposed to look old and broken down.

“Can you feel her, Devlin?” Will asked, a hand closing on Dev’s shoulder.

“I can’t feel anything else. She’s suffering. Barely lucid. The bastards hurt her.”

“But where is she?”

Devlin looked toward the entrance to the underground cells, focused his mind there. But no. No, she wasn’t down below. They’d moved her. Then he aimed his attention at each of the vehicles in turn until he felt her energy. It was very twitchy and distorted, like a radio signal blipping in and out as obstacles blocked it from its receiver.

“Third truck from the front.”

Sarafina said, “The only one with the medical logo on the side. Makes it easier for us, doesn’t it?”

“She’s suffering. We need to get her out of there, now,” Devlin said.

“They’re not going to torture her while she’s being transported,” Willem said. “We need to have a plan, get them separated, one by one. Otherwise, the minute we move, they’ll open fire. Look.” He pointed. Three of the Jeeps had automatic weapons mounted on tripods and the men manning them were alert and watchful. They were also afraid of an attack by the monsters of their childhood dreams, which made them even more dangerous.

“I’m not waiting,” Devlin said.

“Then go to her,” Sarafina said. “Slip quietly into the back of that truck and stay with her. We’re going to knock a tree over right behind it, a big one, blocking the rest of the convoy. That’ll leave only the two trucks ahead of you.”

“Both of which are probably hauling armed men,” Will pointed out. “But we’ll try to block them from you as well, and then we’ll take control of the medical truck and get you both out of there.”

Devlin nodded. “It’s a good plan.” He looked at the two of them, held their eyes. “Kill as many of them as possible.”

Sarafina shot a look at Will. He said, “That’s not how we work, Devlin.”

“They’re trying to exterminate us, Stone. What more will it take to convince you they’re unworthy of living?”

The two began to argue with him, but he just turned and walked away. There wasn’t time to try to convince them. He’d take the help they offered and be glad of it. Maybe they needed to leave the killing to him.

Those bastards who’d tortured Emma were going to die. All of them. But not until she was safe.

E
mma was completely engulfed in pain. It wrapped itself around her like a cold steel chain, crushing in on every part of her, even her face. It hurt to breathe, to the point where she stopped trying. But she didn’t die. And her lungs didn’t spasm or struggle, and her mouth didn’t gape like that of a fish on dry land. She didn’t need to breathe anymore, she guessed. She’d been doing it out of habit.

The pain was more intense than any pain she’d ever felt before. She’d smashed into a cliff face while base jumping in Brazil, but it hadn’t hurt like this. It was as if her cells were on fire, burning her from within. It was as if her bones were all broken. Even her teeth hurt. It was impossible to call the state she was in consciousness. She was awake, yes, but aware of nothing but pain, and gradually, the awareness of her breast being fondled. Through a red haze, she saw one of the goops staring at her. “She’s not bad looking, for a monster. You think we have time?”

“Duct tape her mouth first, or you’re liable to get bit. I learned that the hard way.”

The two men shared a laugh, and Emma tried to raise a hand to strike the one fondling her, but found her wrists were bound by heavy chains that stretched out to either side of her body. She was on her knees in the back of a truck, her hospital gown torn, clinging to one shoulder and angling across her waist to the floor. She was exposed from hip to neck on that side.

And then there was a terrible crashing sound. She was jarred bodily, and the chains jerked her shoulders so hard she thought they’d popped their sockets.

“Jesus,” said the bastard who’d been groping her. “What the hell was that?”

“I’ll go see. You watch your neck or you’ll be sorry.”

“No shit,” he muttered. “Larry, wait. Look at her eyes. They’re turning red.”

“I know. It’s creepy. Take her from behind, so you don’t have to see them.”

He walked to a flap near the back of the truck. The other one rose with a leer. “I like your tits,” he said. “But damn, I can’t look into those red eyes and keep a boner.” He walked around behind her, and she heard his zipper lower. Then his hands were between her thighs, shoving them apart. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

Her legs were not in chains. She could move them. And when he touched her roughly, she snapped them together with every bit of strength she had in her and twisted her hips. It didn’t feel like much. She was so weak, she could barely hold her head up.

But she heard bones crack, and the man screamed, fell backward, and scrambled to his feet, pants around his ankles, holding his right wrist in his left hand. “Bitch! You broke my fucking hand!”