Jess Haines - Enslaved By the Others

My fingers twitched with the desire to let the claws come out so I could properly hunt. The soup sat heavy in my stomach, alleviating the worst of my hunger but not dulling the desire to have something more like hot copper filling my mouth and throat.

Arnold would probably let me close enough to hurt him. Just a little cut. It didn’t have to be so bad, and then maybe the cravings would go away for a little while.

I wanted to be sick with myself, that I could be so single-minded and even consider hurting one of my friends. Wanted to be. I just couldn’t shake the thought that there was flesh and blood in this house that could feed these new needs of mine.

Keeping my eyes shut tight, I repeated a silent mantra to myself, biting the knuckle of my right thumb to keep myself focused.

I would not hurt my friends. I would save Sara. Arnold would find a way to make this stop.

I. Would. Not. Hurt. My. Friends.

It took a very long time for sleep to take me.

I huddled in my new jacket, my gloved hands shoved into my armpits for warmth and my head bowed. Kumiho was on my left, Arnold my right. The magi were spread out in a semicircle behind us and the vampires had their backs.

The night was clear and cold, a fresh coat of snow dusting the road like a glaze of powdered sugar. Well, powdered sugar with a bunch of fresh tire tracks. Before selecting a gathering spot, we had done a couple of passes around the property checking for cops doing surveillance or a security detail. Both were conspicuously absent. There were no cars parked on the side of the road, and the only tire tracks were our own.

After Kumiho and Angus decided it was worth risking and that no one was around to see, we parked on the street near where I had escaped, the wall surrounding Max’s property not yet visible through the trees. The theory being that, while Max might feel my approach and figure I had backup, if we avoided the security cameras, he wouldn’t realize how many people I had with me. It was the only element of surprise we could hope for.

That, and the magis’ plan to burn down the outer buildings like the guesthouse and the guard shack at the main entrance.

There had been some bitter arguments between Angus and Arnold before we left. Angus wanted to preserve the property for some reason he refused to divulge, but Arnold wanted to cut off escape routes. Kumiho sided with Arnold, which put an end to the initial argument but brought up another one about how they planned on covering the exits.

My eyes had glazed over while they all strategized and bitched and snarked at each other. A couple of times I was asked to point out locations I knew, like the entrance to the underground cells where I had first woken up and the room on the upper floor where Max had kept me. Producing the maps I had sketched out while Kumiho had been running her errands, and then stuffed in a pocket, forgotten, kept them busy for a few minutes. Since we had no idea if Sara would still be in that room, Arnold didn’t want to risk burning down any part of the main building.

Angus and Kumiho disagreed with him on that, arguing that something should be done to hem the rival vampires inside and leave them only one way out. Fire was a great deterrent to all creatures, alive and undead, so setting the outside ablaze so no one could escape through windows or any other exits seemed like a great idea to them.

Arnold didn’t want to risk losing Sara or anyone else in the fire and was arguing for a less dangerous spell.

Seeing as I had no idea what the magi could do, aside from firebomb the place, I didn’t have much to add to the conversation. They eventually decided that five of the magi, along with several vampire bodyguards, would remain outside to cast some kind of protective shield to trap everyone—Max and his people, the rest of Royce’s vampires, Arnold, Kimberly, Kumiho and me—inside.

It might have been cold outside, but knowing I was walking right back into Max’s clutches was the real reason my knees were knocking together.

Along with Kumiho, Arnold planned to stick by my side, and Angus vowed to add himself to my bodyguard detail. It should have made me feel safe, but I had seen what Max could do. The gun tucked into the holster at my waist would have given me a confidence boost if I wasn’t going up against a vampire fast enough to dodge the bullets.

Angus hadn’t mentioned what we were waiting for, but when another car pulled to a stop behind our line of vehicles, I figured it was for the last of our backup. More fool I.

The driver, a man in a chauffeur’s suit, who had dark dreadlocks threaded with white beads that clicked with every stride, moved to open the back passenger door. Lo and behold, out stepped Francisco, the sloe-eyed Cajun. This time his suit was some kind of shiny satin material, the color somewhere between brown and gray. It screamed of too much money and not enough taste, kind of like that sly, cunning smile. Just as it had been when I first met him in Max’s home.

My hand whipped straight to the gun holstered at my hip, but Kumiho grabbed my wrist before I could draw the weapon and shook her head in warning. Angus stepped forward, the Highlander going so far as to bow in deference to Francisco. The other vampire didn’t return the gesture.

The driver stepped aside and cleared his throat, his voice a smooth drawl with a hint of a heavier accent. “May I present Monsieur Francisco Dane Zafis LaFontaine, premier prince du sang of the Americas, and Master of Louisiana, Mississippi, and Arkansas.”

“Master of New Orleans, it is an honor,” Angus said, though he didn’t sound like he meant it. Judging by the way Francisco’s eyes narrowed, I had the feeling that Angus’s choice of words was considered some kind of an insult, too.

I opened my mouth to protest this farce, but Kumiho’s grip tightened to the point where the bones in my wrist ground together. I ended up biting off a yelp of pain instead.

Angus shot me a warning look, then completed his spiel to Francisco with a bit more sincerity. “The Master of New York sends his greetings.”

“I’m sure he does,” Francisco replied, glancing at me over the rims of glasses tinted to match the color of his suit. “I prefer he send me his statement of release.”

“Once the goods are exchanged and my Master receives confirmation ye haven’t interfered, it’s yours.”

I watched this exchange, tense, wondering what the hell was going on. Francisco had been a guest in Max’s home, had taken advantage of his hospitality, and had quite possibly purchased people from the slave auctions. I couldn’t remember if he had been one of the vampires to walk away with a shiny, new, better-at-everything-than-me human, but, based on what I had seen of him, I had to assume he was too chummy with Max to be trusted.

“Why is he here?” I hissed the question at Kumiho, never taking my eyes off him.

He answered me before Kumiho could. “Because I owe your Master a favor, cher . And I always pay my debts.”

“How can we trust you? I saw you in there. With him.”

He just smiled.

Fucking vampires and their smug attitudes.

“He’s nae threat just now, lass. He knows what it will cost him if he tells anyone what we’re about.”

“Later is another matter,” Francisco added.

“Aye. Let’s be quick about this. We’ve got a war to win.”

Francisco inclined his head, then reached into his jacket to pull a small packet out of an inner pocket. He held out the packet, which Angus took and tucked away in his own inner jacket pocket. The two exchanged tense nods, then stepped away from each other. As Francisco’s driver held his door open, he tilted his head to peer at me over his glasses one more time.