TW for torture

Sloane Briallen

I knew I needed to deal with Mickey and Bell. I had been putting it off for literal days at this point. But I was afraid of the answers I was going to get once I went down that road.

Mickey, Bell, and their moms had taken me in. They had taken me out of foster care and given me a place to feel safe and secure. Their moms, Mauve and Leah, had made sure I had my own room—converting Mauve’s office into a bedroom for me. They had made sure I went to therapy. They worked with me through my PTSD diagnosis and my anxiety. They had given me everything I needed and more.

So . . . why? Had they known all along that Mickey and Bell were alive? I had to imagine they had. I had been part of their family, but a cynical part of me had always doubted it. And that cynical part was making me wonder . . . was I ever really a part of the family? Or had they dumped me when Mickey and Bell had first transformed—if that’s what had happened the night of my eighteenth birthday.

The problem was, I didn’t know what had happened. I just had a lot of speculation and a lot of suspicions. And I knew that could be solved by just talking to Mickey and Bell. But I was afraid of what the answers were going to be. Why had they left? Why were they only now contacting me? Why had they let me think they were dead?

I was afraid that all of the answers would lead to one thing—I didn’t matter as much to them as they did to me. And I didn’t know what I would do if that turned out to be the case.

So, I would continue to run from them. I would keep them at a distance until I could figure out what I wanted to do. Or at least until I could stomach what they would tell me.

As I moved, the familiar feeling of thirst came over me. An itchiness in my joints and muscles, like I wanted to jump out of my skin at the next minor inconvenience. It was a lot more insidious than the human feeling of thirst because that thirst was easy to identify. A parched feeling in the back of your throat makes it easy to remember, oh I should drink water.

The vampire thirst was closer to adrenaline—a fight or flight response. Without enough blood, our body would eventually wither and die. But long before that, we would feel the need to jump anyone we saw. It was why vampires went into frenzy—they lost themselves to the thirst, attacking anything and everything around them. Our bodies were programmed to preserve themselves. In this case, preservation was attacking any human we came across because without their blood, we would die.

I had a lifetime of experience dealing with adrenal responses. Stress is pretty common when you’re homeless. Over time, I had learned to live with it, and being thirsty didn’t feel too much different. It was why I went so long without drinking.

But this time, I was going to get ahead of it. I wasn’t currently in any danger, so I knew the feeling was because I needed to drink something. It made sense; that shifter that had attacked Annie had hit me on the head and head wounds bleed a lot, even with the vampire healing.

I had never been to Lazarus, but it was famous in the Underground. Everyone knew about it, and it wasn’t exactly inconspicuous with its pink façade and rainbow bubble letter sign. Whoever owned the place had a sense of humor.

There was a shifter standing at the only door into the place that I could see. He was sitting on a stool, reading a book. He glanced up when I was close enough to not just be a passerby. He looked me over before nodding and looking back down.

It was rare not to see hostility from a shifter. But I guess, if you worked here, you had to get over some prejudices.

I passed by him into the building. The entry was a long hallway with no windows or doors, just lights strung up along the top corners, running alongside me. The steady bass of ambient dance music rumbled through my chest.

The inside of Lazarus was about what I expected from my experience with clubs. A dance floor at the bottom of several tiers of chairs and couches; a bar at the top of the tiers with a huge array of alcohols and mixers; speakers and colored lights hanging from the ceiling.

The only thing that was different was the balcony that ringed three-quarters of the room, leading to rooms where people could board or do . . . other things. “Drugs, deals, and dens” was the term I had always heard about the spare rooms in Lazarus. You went there if you were desperate or horny or both.

The vampire at the bar was an amber-skinned man with shoulder-length dreadlocks. It wasn’t even eight yet—the club was empty.

I sat down at the bar and glanced up at the array of alcohols. I had some favorites that I preferred mixed with blood, but today wasn’t the day for that.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, setting down a napkin in front of me.

“Can I get ginger beer and blood?” I asked.

“Sure, you want a Bloody Mule?”

I shook my head. “No alcohol. Just the ginger beer and blood.”

“Sure thing.”

Ginger beer reminded me of Annie, and it reminded me of home. I need a bit of grounding and nostalgia to get through whatever the next few days held.

The bartender brought my drink and I handed him five bucks.

The blood soothed the itchiness in my joints immediately, though it didn’t take away the feeling entirely. But the ginger beer helped. I felt more put together than I had in the past few days. The blood helped with the thirst and the ginger beer gave me something nostalgic to focus on.

Something moved in my peripheries, and I glanced up to see another vampire sit down six or seven seats from me. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. White hair to his ears and piercing blue eyes. He looked to be in his late-twenties or early-thirties. He had a thick black collar tattooed around his neck.

The bartender walked over to him, murmuring, “Hey, Theron.”

I looked away, my eyes back on my drink. Theron?

Zero and Theron were famous bounty hunters. They specialized in hunting vampires, but they were formidable to anything that had a price on its head. Vampire, shifter, paramortal—rumor had it they even had some Fey bounties on their list of accomplishments.

I hadn’t ever had a reason to know a lot about bounty hunters—they just came with the Underground. Magics loved to kill other magics and the laws surrounding it were weird and had less to do with homicide being illegal, and more to do with . . . something else. I had heard the term “Gaea’s Laws” thrown around before, but I had no idea what that meant.

However, Zero and Theron were a famously weird pairing, which was why I knew anything about them. Theron was a human vampire, like me, and Zero was a shapeshifter.

It was a twofold odd combination. First was the general animosity between vampires and shifters. And then there was the unspoken rule that bounty hunters didn’t hunt their own kind. Theron hunted vampires with Zero, and Zero hunted shapeshifters with Theron. It made them both hated and feared.

I downed the rest of my drink, the carbonation burning my throat as it went down, and signaled the bartender for another one.

I watched Theron out of the corner of my eye. I had never met him but there was something familiar about him. The curve of his jawline and the shape of his mouth . . . there was something there.

He glanced at me; I looked away before I could meet his gaze. It was all very weird. Who did he look like?

“Sloane?”

I looked up to see Tara, her blue hair perfectly coiffed and parted to the side. She had traded in the cocktail dress for a green, off-the shoulder summer dress with a window cut out just below her cleavage. It showed that she was covered in tattoos from her elbows, across her chest, and down her abdomen. They ended before her dress hem. Her legs were bare of tattoos down to her black stilettos.

“Hey, Tara. You look like a . . . slutty fifties housewife?”

“That was kind of the vibe,” she laughed, throwing her head back. Her hair didn’t move an inch. It was really the hair that pulled the outfit together, curled at the sides in huge ringlets and pulled away from her face by bobby pins.

“It looks good. You here to club?” Not a lot of regular humans came here to club, I didn’t think.

“Nah. Madam Bovary sends us here to get a feel for vampires and ferret out fresh meat who would be interested in the services she provides.”

I glanced up at the spare rooms at the top of the club. Did she—

“No,” Tara shook her head, answering the question I hadn’t even asked. “Madam Bovary doesn’t like us working anywhere else but out of her house.”

“Fair.”

“Is that vampire okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, he’s fine. Are the two guys he was with okay?”

“They were fine from the get-go. Just a bit spooked.” Someone called Tara’s name. We both looked up to see one of the women I had seen at Madam Bovary’s.

Tara hugged me. “Good to see you. I gotta go.”

“Bye, Tara.”

When she left, I realized that as we talked, people had started to filter in. Most of them were dressed similarly to Tara or in even more ostentatious outfits. I didn’t know them, but I was pretty sure most of them were here for similar reasons as Tara.

I took another sip of my drink. As I set it down, I heard grumbling close by.

“The nerve,” a female voice muttered.

“Showing his face where vampires gather,” a male voice said, the cadence indicating it was replying to the first voice. He had a Scottish accent.

“I can’t believe Sid let him in here,” the woman said. She also had a Scottish accent.

I glanced over to see two vampires standing at the bar on the opposite side of me from Theron. The man was in a purple catsuit, the woman in a neon pink minidress. The man leaned on the counter, the woman standing with her arms crossed over her chest. They both had brown eyes that were luminescing almost red. As they spoke, I could see the fangs in their mouth.

I followed their gaze to see they were glaring at Theron. Theron wasn’t looking over, keeping a hand on a mug in front of him, looking at it. But the alertness in his posture betrayed that he was listening.

The woman caught my eye, and hers flashed dangerously. “Fledgling, you shouldn’t be sitting so close tae a butcher. He might get ye, too.”

I shook my head and went back to my drink.

The man took a step towards me. “Oh, lassie, do ye think ye’re safe because ye’re in public?” He licked his teeth, smiling at me. “You never know what could be lurking in the dark when ye leave.”

I looked up from my drink, sighing in annoyance. “What are we doing here?”

He stopped, blinking in confusion. “What?”

“Your purpose here is . . . what? Scare me with the boogeyman vampire hunter? Intimidate me with your fangs and red eyes? What are we doing? He and I were literally just sitting here, having drinks, not interacting. And now I have to acknowledge him instead of just finishing my drink and going home.” I looked at Theron, who was now watching me with his icy blue eyes. “We were good, right? Just, not interacting?”

He didn’t reply but there was a slight change in the neutrality of his face that made me think he didn’t know how to reply to my question.

“Leave us alone and go bug someone else,” I said, turning back to my drink.

“Look, fledgling,” the woman started.

“Ava! Angus!”

The vampires looked up at the sound of their names. I followed them to see the bartender walking over with a larger vampire covered in tattoos from his bald head down beneath his clothes and out onto his hands. He looked pissed. “I thought I told you if I saw you back in here this week, I would ban you for life,” he shouted.

“Shit,” the man, Angus presumably, cursed.

“Sid, see them out,” the tattooed man said, looking at the bartender.

Sid grinned, his fangs growing out as he did. His dark eyes flashed a glittering onyx black. “With pleasure.”

“Laz, look—” the woman, Ava, started.

“Nope, I told you to stop harassing my patrons, no matter your beef. Out.”

Ava and Angus protested but they were just sand compared to the tidal wave that was Sid the Bartender forcing them out of the club.

The man addressed Theron. “I’m sorry, man.”

“It’s fine, Laz,” Theron replied, shrugging. “I’m used to it.”

“It still ain’t right.” He looked at me. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Let my buy you a drink.” He glanced at Theron. “You, too.”

“I haven’t paid for this one,” I said, holding up the one I was drinking. “I’m about to head out anyway, so just take this one off.”

“Alright. I’m sorry, again.”

“We’re good.” I turned back to my blood.

“I’ll just take another hot blood,” Theron told him.

Laz busied himself getting Theron another drink.

I took another sip. As I did, I felt eyes on me. I looked up to see Theron watching me. “What?”

He shrugged. “You’re not afraid of the boogeyman vampire hunter?”

I rolled my eyes, putting my drink down. “No.”

“Shouldn’t you be? Didn’t your sire warn you about vampire hunters?”

“My sire’s too busy doing smack to warn me about vampire hunters,” I waved him off. I didn’t think it had ever even occurred to Karhi. He was older than most vampire hunters since a lot of them tended to be shapeshifters.

He didn’t respond, letting the conversation die between us.

I was going to leave it at that but before I could stop myself, I said, “You may not remember this—it was six or seven years ago—”

He cut me off, sneering as he spoke. “Are you going to tell me I saved you from something? Sorry, sweetheart, I don’t remember all the people I’ve helped.”

Irritation flared up and I gave him the bird. “No, you ass. I’ve never met you before. But you went after a vampire nest in the warehouse district here a few years ago.”

He blinked, the sneer disappearing. “I remember that . . . it was a small nest, fifteen or so vampires.”

“Yeah. They took over there and harassed anyone who went through. Even killed a few people.” No one I had been close with, but people I knew from around. “I guess some of the neighborhood shifters banded together to hire you and Zero. You got rid of them.”

He didn’t have a smart reply for that.

“That warehouse district is where a lot of runaways hide out. A lot of empty buildings where the police won’t bother us. When that nest set up there, a lot of us lost a place to stay when we needed shelter. When you got rid of them, we had a place to go again.” I drained the rest of my drink. “I know you were paid to do it, but we were still grateful.”

“Interesting,” he said. “I mean the shifters just paid us because it was one of a series of buildings they owned over there and there was some sort of turf war that was going on.” He shrugged. “Definitely didn’t do it to help runaways, but I guess things just work out sometimes.”

I rolled my eyes. Egotistical prick. “Yeah, whate—” I stopped, something clicking. “Wait, you said the shifters owned those buildings?”

He eyed me. “Yes . . .”

“Vampires owned other parts?”

“Yes. The warehouse district is primarily owned by different courts.”

Oh shit. I got up. “You’re an asshole, but you’re a helpful asshole.”

I didn’t get to hear his response because I was already running outside to call Karhi.

“Sloane?” he answered just as I got outside.

“Karhi—is Lunette there?”

“Yeah, hold on.” There was a pause and then, “Okay you’re on speaker.”

“I just remembered—a few years ago, there was a vampire nest in the warehouse district. Shifters hired Zero and Theron to get rid of them. And I just realized that one of the buildings the vampire nest took over was the same building Mikko was held in.”

“You think that’s related?” Lunette asked. For once, she didn’t sound hostile towards me.

“No—well, I don’t know. But I know that apparently the shifter courts owned that building? Or at least some of the surrounding buildings? And the vampire courts owned other buildings? Could that be related?”

“Hmm . . . it could be. That would explain why I can’t track the owners. But if I start off knowing who could potentially own it, I may be able to trace it from there. Alright, that’s useful, Sloane.”

Somehow that still felt like a slap in the face, even though I was pretty sure it was a compliment?

“Where are you?” Karhi asked.

“Lazarus. I needed something to drink. I’ll—”

Something slammed into my head, knocking me to the ground. The phone flew from my grasp and my head screamed. I shouted out confused panic.

I heard Karhi calling my name from my phone, but it warbled, like I was hearing it from underwater. “Sloane? Sloane. What’s—” The sound of crunching plastic cut him off.

“We tried to be nice tae ye,” a Scottish voice said in my ear. “But she was right—ye’re a mouthy bitch.”

It was the vampires from the bar.

I lashed out and met air. Ava and Angus cackled, and pain tore across my chest. A second later, something sharp slammed into my neck, and I yelped.

I tried to roll out of the way, but I rolled into something hard and unforgiving. I looked up to see a car tire. My vision lurched.

“Ooh, I love when they run,” Angus chortled.

Get it together Sloane. Block out the pain. I focused on my arms and legs. I needed to get up.

Everything felt so slow and sluggish. As I got to my feet, my vision lurched again, and my arms felt like they weighed a thousand pounds each.

When I was finally upright, I saw Angus and Ava standing next to each other, eyes luminescing red in the darkness. Their teeth and their claws were on full display canines long and dripping with saliva, nails over an inch long with sharp tips.

We were at the edge of the Lazarus parking lot, almost into an empty field that was slated for construction. The van I had rolled into was the only vehicle this far from Lazarus.

Beneath Angus’s black, stiletto heel was my phone, shattered into pieces.

“I just got that phone,” I growled. It wasn’t a very strong growl. I was just barely seeing straight. My head felt like cotton.

“That plastic piece of shite?” Ava said, looking down at Angus’s foot. “Considering yer sire, I’d think ye’d have better taste.”

My sire . . . ? “You know Karhi?”

“Of course—we have the same sire.”

I blinked. “You . . .” My vision dipped and I almost fell. What was wrong with me? “You’re Ilona’s?”

“I supposed it would make us yer aunt and uncle, huh?” Angus asked, exchanging grins with Ava.

I tried to look back at Lazarus, but my head spun. I was too far to run back to the building. I couldn’t outrun two full-fledged vampires. Especially since they were each at least a half-century old.

“Wow, she’s lasting a pretty long time after being injected,” Ava said to Angus. She said it like she was remarking on the weather.

Injected? Wait—that sharp pain earlier. I reached to my neck where I had felt a stabbing pain before. It hurt to touch and when I pulled away, there was blood on my hand. It wasn’t my blood.

“You . . . you injected me with dead man’s blood,” I whispered. My knees buckled, and I crumpled to the ground. A dull ache thudded through my body.

“That was a lot longer than most people,” Angus agreed, looking at Ava. “But now she’s down. Ye ready?”

“She said tae make it bad,” Ava nodded.

My limbs spasmed against my body but I couldn’t control them. My mouth burned, a brush fire of dryness.

Cold ice spread up my spine and fear gripped me. I pushed as hard as I could against my arms. They just shuddered. Why couldn’t I move them? Why wasn’t my body even trying?

Ava and Angus advanced on me, and I whimpered.

No one is coming for me.

Claws ripped straight to bone. I screamed, my vision going white. Pain seared across my neck, and the scream cut into a wet gurgle.

Fire spread across my chest. They wrenched my ribs apart, tearing the organs out of my body.

I tried to scream. Nothing came out.

Tears welled in my eyes and darkness overtook the white in my vision. The pain gave way to a pervasive cold that spread through my limbs.

“Why?” I whimpered.

But no one could hear me.