Part 8 (1/2)

For a short while, both women had tried to explain the vampirish-looking males as having a disease, but two with the disease? And there were killings of the homeless, of prost.i.tutes, bodies torn and drained of blood. No one believed in vampires but secretly, she and Em, when they were young and Em lived mostly in the streets, creeping up to Blaze's room at night through the fire escape, had believed in another world.

They had the same nightmare and in that nightmare, there were vampires, monstrous creatures chasing them through a long, dark tunnel. They would wake, both s.h.i.+vering, sweating, scared out of their minds. Emeline was always quiet and she stayed awake, curled into a protective ball, her knees up tight into her chest, her head resting on them, arms around her legs as she rocked herself back and forth.

Over the years, the nightmare became more vivid, the tunnel even more real. They could see the gaslights up high on the wall of the tunnels, throwing a strange, yellowish glow through the darkness. The tunnel walls were of brick. Old brick. The tunnel itself was musty and smelled evil, as if it had been used for a long time by malevolent beings for foul purposes.

There were smears of blood on the walls as they ran down them. On the bricks and on the floor. Dark and ugly. They raced through a room with ancient tools of torture and kept going. Neither spoke, but they touched hands occasionally to give each other strength and courage.

Below ground seemed to be a maze of tunnels, of dark, hideous rooms, none good, most empty, but the echo of screams had been left behind. There was a room that was all modern. Totally modern. Computers everywhere. Screens everywhere. They both knew this was the center of the maze, and they had to get out before they were seen. If they didn't . . . They ran faster. Hearts beating wildly. Terrified. Terror grew beyond imagination as the tunnel they rushed through began to contort, the walls closing together, the ceiling lowering and the floor pitching. At that moment, as if by mutual agreement, they woke.

She didn't know if Em still dreamt that terrible dream, but once Emeline had stopped slipping into her room through the fire escape and Sean had sent her out of the country, the nightmares had stopped.

”When this is over, we will have to protect your friend. They will keep coming after her.”

”Emeline won't accept protection. She has major trust issues. Her life hasn't been pleasant. She takes care of herself and she's loyal to Dad and me . . .” Blaze trailed off. There was no more Dad. There was only Blaze. Now Blaze and Emeline.

”She will not have a choice.”

The music ended with a cras.h.i.+ng of drums. The stage went dark. The crowd went wild. Blaze saw Emeline running toward the exit and Hallahan coming out of the shadows, shackling her wrist and jerking her toward him. Emeline struggled and Hallahan leaned in close and whispered something in her ear. She stopped struggling, but her gaze slipped pa.s.sed Jimmy to scan the room.

”She can't see me,” Blaze said, trying not to panic.

”No. If I allow her to see you, someone else might as well. Tomas and Lojos are sticking close. If we cannot get to her, if he takes her somewhere else, they will stop him.”

The Hallahan brothers were predictable. They used the upstairs apartment where they had their video equipment set up to record their perverse, depraved acts. They enjoyed hurting the women they brought there, humiliating them and forcing compliance. Still, Blaze didn't like that Emeline might feel abandoned. Scared. She detested that Em might be frightened and afraid that Blaze hadn't come to the club to protect her.

There were too many nights Em had climbed up to the roof and down to the fire escape, running from someone in the streets. Hiding from men who would hurt her. She'd had a s.h.i.+t life, even after Sean had tried to get involved. No one would consider him as a foster parent because he owned a bar, lived over it and was a single parent. A man. That left Emeline to her crazy relatives. Junkies and alcoholics. The worst. They used her as a slave in the store they collectively owned, although she preferred working there to being at home.

She was held at gunpoint four times. Shot once. Was back in the store working the night s.h.i.+ft even when she was underage and they mostly sold liquor late at night. Sean kept an eye out, but he had a business of his own to run, so more than once she was in trouble. A young girl alone, men coming in drunk or jacked up on drugs.

Emeline, she whispered softly, trying to connect mind to mind. Don't be afraid. I'm here for you.

Jimmy Hallahan gripped Emeline by her arm, and if anyone looked close, he had it locked high behind her back as he dragged her through the crowd to the stairs. Beside her, Maksim radiated heat. Energy. None of it was good. The power was so strong that she touched his arm to calm him, afraid Hallahan and his guards would feel the Carpathian's buried rage.

Jimmy was so far gone, in the throes of the drug, he didn't look right or left, but continued dragging Emeline up the stairs. He had a phone in one hand now, flipping it open, talking into it.

”Answer your d.a.m.n phone once in a while. I've got a hot one. So hot, man. Get back here when you're finished with your job. This wh.o.r.e is going to make the three of you happy.” He snapped the phone closed and thrust open the door to the apartment.

Blaze followed them up the stairs, right behind them, so close she could practically breathe on Emeline. She didn't dare touch her, but she wanted to. Right behind her, Maksim followed. They slipped through the door as Hallahan shoved Emeline, sending her flying across the room. She stumbled, lost her balance in her crystal stiletto heels and sprawled out on the floor.

Jimmy slammed the door, locked it and turned back to her with a vicious, hungry smile.

TEN.

JIMMY HALLAHAN STALKED across the room, reached down and hauled Emeline up by her hair. ”You stupid little wh.o.r.e. I tell you to come, you come. You got that? You capable of understanding that when a man tells you to do something, you f.u.c.king do it?” He slapped her hard.

Emeline didn't answer. She didn't resist. She didn't cry or make a sound. She simply looked at him. Right in the eye. That was Em. She didn't back down. She wasn't trained in warfare like Blaze, but she had courage. She'd grown up on the streets and she wasn't afraid to die. She had never been afraid to die. Sometimes Blaze thought she was more afraid of living.

”I feel you in here, Blaze,” Emeline said. ”You here?”

Can you m.u.f.fle sound? Blaze asked Maksim.

Of course. He can yell all he wants, but no one will hear him.

”Yeah, babe, I'm here,” Blaze said as she moved into position behind Hallahan and kicked him hard with the toe of her boot right behind his knee. At the same time she fisted his hair and yanked him over backward, stepping to the side so that he toppled hard. The moment he was on the floor, she stomped his throat.

I want him to see me.

He will see you.

Jimmy rolled, swearing, his gaze jumping to her face. She stepped back and watched him stand up, his hand going to his boot to extract a knife. She smiled at him. ”Welcome to the party, Jimmy.”

”Welcome to my party, b.i.t.c.h.” He brought the knife low, blade up, and circled her.

”Emmy, why is it that men always call a woman a b.i.t.c.h when she does the exact same thing as the man?”

”I think it's a lack of vocab, Blaze,” Emeline said, stepping well back, giving Blaze room. ”It isn't like Jimmy Hallahan has much of an education. He dropped out of school to build bombs, and he wasn't very good at it. He got caught three times and went to prison all three times. Didn't learn much there, either.” She didn't touch her swelling face, cover up or in any way act afraid. That was Em.

”Maybe he learned how to be a b.i.t.c.h, a prison b.i.t.c.h,” Blaze said. ”That's why he likes to use that word. He's kind of describing himself.”

Jimmy roared with rage and stepped into her, using his size, expecting to intimidate her, thrusting upward toward her belly as he came. She slapped his wrist down hard, as she glided to the side, her speed taking her out of his path, her foot slamming hard into the side of his knee, driving it in so that he stumbled. She kicked his kneecap viciously, putting her weight behind it. She didn't weigh all that much, but it only took eighty pounds of pressure to break the kneecap, and she used every ounce she had.

He went down screaming. Swearing. His face twisted in fury. He spat on the floor, eyes wild, as he tried to drag himself up, the knife still clenched in his fist.

”Your father screamed like a girl. Like a f.u.c.king pig.”

She raised her eyebrows, staying just out of reach. ”Like you just did? Because that was you screaming, Jimmy, and a girl did that. Sean's daughter. She took you out. No one can hear you. No one is coming to save you. Not your guards. Not your brothers. You're going to die here, and you'll die knowing a girl took your worthless, sorry a.s.s down.”

She kept her voice even, although inside she was crying for her father. This man had tortured him. Even enjoyed it. She knew if he got his hands on her or Emeline, he would do the same to them. She half turned away from him, her gaze jumping to her friend's, checking to see that she was all right.

Jimmy shrieked his fury again, trying to rise. At the last moment, he threw his knife straight at her. Blaze moved with blinding speed-speed she didn't even know she had. She was out of the way of the poorly spinning blade. The four throwing knives she had concealed in the loops of her belt didn't miss. She was deadly accurate with them, she had been since she was six years old. That was the last time she could ever remember missing, even by an eighth of an inch. Four silver hilts protruded, one from his throat, one from his heart, one from his groin and one from his belly.

”Overkill much?” Emeline asked.

”He tortured Dad; there is no such thing as overkill,” Blaze said, unrepentant. ”I gave him his chance. He lost.”

Emeline pressed back against the wall, her eyes showing shock, staring down at Jimmy Hallahan. His head was turned toward Emeline, eyes wide open. ”You should have heard the things that sc.u.mbag said he was going to do to me.”

Maksim materialized out of the corner, and Emeline gasped but said nothing at all as he crouched beside the body. Her gaze jumped to Blaze for rea.s.surance.

”He's with me,” Blaze said.

”I think I got that. What is he doing?”

Maksim put a hand on either side of Hallahan's head. ”I am going to read his memories, before all activity in his brain ceases.”

”No.” Emeline took a step forward, but carefully avoided touching Maksim. ”You can't. There's something-someone-else in him. I don't care if you believe me. I saw him. I think he was using Jimmy as some kind of conduit. He looked right at me. As he was dying, he turned his head and looked right at me.”