Frostbound (33 page)

“The only clue I’ve got is a pair of fang marks in my neck.”

There was static on the line.

“What did you say?” Lore demanded. There was another burst of static that made Lore growl at the phone.

Finally, a clear sentence came through. “I can’t get through to the station. I’m underground. I don’t have a clue where I am. It’s freezing cold. Someone bit me and then dumped me down here.”

The call went dead.

 

T
hey were going into the tunnels.

They’d gathered in the alley outside the Castle door. It was cold and it was snowing again, a steady drift of fat, white flakes that made the crowd around the open manhole cover look like a scene from a demented Christmas card.

For the last ten minutes, Lore had been giving everyone their instructions, the logical part of his brain still working even if the rest was MIA. At the moment, Lore didn’t care about evil bubbling up through the storm drains—he wanted Talia in his bed, and the rest of the world could line dance its way to hell. But she was missing and probably underground with Belenos, so down the manhole Lore and his makeshift army would go.

There were wolves and hounds, both in beast and man form. Joe had spread the word to some of the local vampires, too. They stood at the back, lounging against the brick wall and smoking, flashing fang as they laughed at their own jokes.

Darak had left to meet the other members of Clan Thanatos. Besides the two that Lore had met, a handful of others had just arrived from down the coast by private boat. They would carry out their part of the plan separately. Clan Thanatos would cover the operations aboveground, Lore and his friends below. As they’d expected, Belenos had given his assassins the word to set Omara’s doom in motion. Lore hoped Darak was as good as he claimed, because at a rough estimate Belenos’s welcome party for the queen, not counting the Hunters, outnumbered Clan Thanatos ten to one.

Mavritte stood across from Lore, on the other side of the sewer entrance. She’d planted her feet as if she were braced for another attack, her hands fisted on her hips. The strappy leather outfit she wore showed the deep scars in her skin, reminding him of the sacrifices she had made fighting for her people. It was good to have her on his side. It meant something that, despite their differences, she’d brought the Redbones when he asked.

Time was their enemy. Hurrying through his instructions, Lore forced himself to look calm and in charge. “Any questions?” he concluded, scanning the crowd.

“Go over the bit again about how we’re not going to be made into throw rugs by the Hunters,” said Joe, who had left his bar to support Lore in the fight. “Just for me.”

Joe was carrying a weapon called a bardiche, which looked like a thin, curved ax on a long pole. The blade was almost as long as his arm, but Joe handled it with the ease of long familiarity. No villain in his right mind was coming near that thing.

A camera flashed. Errata was there, documenting everything. Lore wanted to snap at her. Sure this was news and she was a journalist, but the constant retinal assault was getting old.

Perry wasn’t there, and that left a hole. Since coming to Fairview, they’d been friends, always together in a fight—against the demon Geneva; against their foes in the Castle; and in a dozen bars in Fairview and surrounds. Perry’s absence was the marker of just how serious this was. He was the first casualty. There could be more.

Talia might be tied up and at the mercy of her sire. A sick lurch jolted Lore’s stomach.

And where the hell was Detective Baines?

With his heart in his throat, he gave the order to move. He’d prepared his people as best he could but, ultimately, they didn’t know what they’d find down below. The nonnegotiable was that Lore never, ever left his people behind. One way or another, he would get everyone home.

 

Once they were into the tunnels, the company split up. Errata had insisted on being embedded with the troops, whatever that meant. The company split into four groups, each taking a quadrant of the tunnels. Lore had deliberately kept the units small. There wasn’t much room to maneuver underground, and he didn’t want his people getting in each other’s way. An efficient strike force, experienced with close quarters, was the best choice he could make with the information at hand.

Lore took his group of hounds to the southwest quadrant, close to the Castle entrance. A few of these tunnels were newer, lined with cement and lit with a string of lightbulbs along the ceiling. His plan was to sweep through this area first, because it included the basement of the old hotel where Darak had met Belenos. With luck, the king would still be there. Lore prayed that Talia and Baines would be, too.

 

Talia sat on a straight-backed chair in the middle of the old, dusty room, bound with silver chains and gagged with a strip torn from her own blouse. Her skin felt grimy with dust, every tickle of her hair a reminder of the rats she was sure lurked just outside of visual range.

She was somewhere in the tunnels. Wine barrels were stacked against the walls, coated with decades of dust so thick it looked like cotton batting.

Now would be a good time for Lore to burst in and save her—heck, she’d welcome Mavritte—but she knew it was a selfish thought. It was better if she could escape on her own, because this was Belenos. The last thing Talia wanted to do was to bring his special brand of crazy down on the man she loved.

So far Belenos hadn’t done anything more dramatic than tying her to a chair, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled an iron maiden out of a utility closet. Belenos was good at pain. Some said it was his only real hobby anymore. Talia knew better. His hobby was fear.

Which was why she kept her face as blank as possible when he unlocked the squeaky old door and stepped inside.

“Hello, my duck,” he said, his voice silky. “How are you?” He shoved his hands into his pockets, drifting into the room.

She tracked him like a downed bird watching a slinking cat. A bird with attitude, though. She made a growling noise around the gag.

“Sorry. Didn’t quite catch that.” He bent and untied the strip of cloth.

He peeled it away from her face. Automatically, Talia hauled in a deep breath, winding up to scream. Instead, she started coughing, a reaction to the stale, dusty air.

“Poor Talia,” said Belenos, walking in a circle around her chair. She could feel his presence like a cold, slippery finger along the back of her neck. “So sorry this isn’t much of a room, but privacy is hard to get when you’re on the move. Or, in your case, on the run.”

He put his mouth close to her ear, his fox-red hair swishing against her cheek. “But you know all about that, don’t you? You can run, but you can’t hide. You know your daddy’s here, don’t you?”

Talia couldn’t help a twitch, but said nothing.

“Oh, yes, he’s my new best friend. We’re working together. Isn’t that nice?”

What?
Shock made her jerk, which seemed to amuse him. Then she understood. Big Red was a nickname for vampires, but a lot of people used it specifically for the red-haired king. Max had posted to the bulletin board that he was following Big Red. Following, not hunting.
I can’t—I won’t—believe this!

“It’s quite true,” he said as if reading her thoughts.

She couldn’t protest, the hot rage of betrayal too thick in her throat. How could her father agree to this?

“I asked for Max as our special go-between.”

Oh, God, Max!
She turned to meet the king’s one topaz eye. Belenos licked his ruined lips. “I remember how good he tasted, don’t you? Dessert.”

Talia squeezed her eyes shut. “Stop it.”

“Are you hungry yet? Give it a day or two and I’ll bring Max in. I daresay it’s been a while since you’ve had anything but a dog to eat.”

Oh, no
. She locked her knees, fighting the shudder that quaked through her. She couldn’t feed on her brother. It was bad enough that she’d betrayed him to Baines in the car as they drove to the university. But that’s exactly why her sire would starve her and then send Max in. It was her worst nightmare.

Belenos bent, and pressed his twisted mouth to hers. She could feel the scar tissue of his skin against hers, cold and hard and vampire dead. As she fought the impulse to gag, he thrust his good hand up the hem of her sweater, working his fingers under the lace of her bra. Clenching her body, Talia stayed perfectly still, knowing that if she recoiled there would only be more to come.

“You’re so frigid, I’d almost say someone had killed you.” He gave a soundless laugh that filled the room like a dirty secret.

“Let me go.” She didn’t open her eyes, but whispered the words like a prayer.

“It’s not time yet.”

His last reply made her flinch. What had she heard in his voice? Anticipation. “I’ve waited for this for months. Oh, I’ve known where you were, Talia. This is the computer age, after all, but I let you think you were safe. What’s the fun of having the humans send you back to me when I was just waiting for the right opportunity to come after Omara? The bonus of paying you a visit made this trip well worth the air miles. You’re my killone, get-one-free special.”

He leaned closer. “There’s something I want you to see.”

Talia kept her eyes closed. She was shutting him out. Denying what he had to offer.

“Look at me,” Belenos said, suddenly furious.

She squeezed her eyelids tighter, like a toddler having a tantrum.

He grabbed her chin, pulling her forward as far as the bonds allowed. “Look at me!” he roared. As he squeezed, she felt the slide of flesh against her jawbone.

Her eyes snapped open, glistening with the pain.

“That’s better.” With his free hand, he pulled a quartz sphere out of his pocket. “I’m in charge. Don’t forget that.”

He released her chin, letting her slump back against the chair. Her jaw throbbed, a pain for every place his fingers had crushed her.

He lifted the quartz. It sparked to life, a firefly of light glowing at its center and then blooming to fill the sphere. Talia watched with deep suspicion as the bright ball glowed in his hand, rimming the edges of his fingers with transparent red.

He shielded the quartz with one hand, hiding it from her view. “Let’s see who is down here. Where is Detective Baines? He was last seen bumbling into the
wrong
part of the underground.”

The image of Baines was blurry at first, but came slowly into focus. The detective was sitting on the ground, loading what looked like the last clip of ammunition into his sidearm. Baines looked dirty and in a desperate hurry, but there was no blood or broken bones that Talia could see.

Oh, wait. Baines was getting to his feet now, but struggling, using the wall for support. Something was wrong with his right leg. He couldn’t seem to put weight on it.

Belenos zoomed the image out a little, getting more of the surrounding area. “There are plenty of places where the tide has chewed caves into the soft rocks beneath the harbor, and many more where the tunnel floors are just wooden planking over the pits beneath. After a hundred years, some of that wood has rotted away. I’m afraid our brave detective has fallen through.”

Talia’s chest seized with tension. When the tide came in—around midday—all those underground caves would fill up, but that was a future problem. Right now, Baines had other issues. He wasn’t alone in the cave. Something had fallen in with him.

The cat looked like a creature made by magic, or it might have escaped from the Castle. It looked like a standard tabby alley cat—scraggly, thin, and mean—except it was bigger than nature intended. It must have weighed a couple hundred pounds.

It was looking at Baines as if he were a baby bird. Easy, tasty pickings. Baines was hurt, trapped, and running out of ammunition.

“Oh, this is too good, don’t you think?” Belenos cooed. He rose from his chair and crouched down beside her, showing her a better view of what he’d conjured in the stone. “What you see is what’s happening right now. How do you like my kitty? I made him specially to keep the detective from getting bored.”

“No!” she cried, forgetting herself and trying to rise from the chair.

It rocked forward, forcing Belenos to grab the back to steady it. The lapse of concentration made him lose the image.

“Bring it back! I have to see what happens!”

The desperation, the
begging
in her voice was a mistake. His mouth curled into a smile. “I bet you think your dog is going to ride to your rescue like a true-blue hero.”

He waited for the doubt, the wounded look as she took in his words, but her gaze remained steady.
Lore doesn’t leave his people behind
.

He gave a low huff of amusement and waved his hand again, and then she saw Lore, a fireball flying through the air over his head.

“
Tsk
, bad aim.”

“What is that fire?” Talia asked.

“Why, that’s how sorcerers fight, my duck. Basic wizardry. I’ve been teaching my troop leaders to use more than just guns. It’s hard for the enemy to shoot back when they’re burning to cinders. And werebeasts hate it. Teeth and claws are of no use, so all your hounds and wolves are just fish in a barrel, if you’ll forgive the zoological contradiction. The tunnels will positively stink with burning dog hair.”

Talia could see the hilt of a knife in his belt, but her hands and feet were bound. She wanted so desperately to grab it and slide the blade into his heart, she could feel the texture of the hilt against her fingers.

Belenos stood, checked his watch. “Tick-tock. Time to run. Next time I come back, maybe we’ll check on your friends. Maybe not.”

“For God’s sake, what do you want from me?” Talia let her fury show.