Bloodline Page 8

  As I turn and walk away, he calls out to me. “Hey, Katia.”

  “Yeah?”

  He flashes me that devil’s grin. “Give ’em hell.”

  Chapter Ten

  Our plane makes a detour through London on the way home. Turns out the Linkuri Commander had the prisoner transferred to a high-security facility outside the city. Good news for us because I really didn’t want to make the trip to China.

  We arrive at Linkuri headquarters just after nightfall. The place looks like Fort Knox. The outer gate is heavily guarded and blocked with a thick metal barricade that is lowered only after our identities are confirmed. The heavily armed guard has been told to expect us and scans us through reasonably quickly. We’re advised the Commander will meet us inside. Apparently he’s been very hands-on with this prisoner. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. What could he possibly have to do that would be more important than breaking this vamp?

  Viktor drives through the first gate. Once it has sealed shut behind us, the second gate swings open, revealing a squat cement building. It has no windows or markings of any kind. Just impregnable-looking metal doors front and center. The building itself is a single story, which I suspect is deceptively small. Judging by the size, I’d bet most of their operations take place below ground.

  “Not much to look at, is it?” I joke halfheartedly.

  Viktor grunts in reply.

  “Besides the obvious, what do they do here, anyway?” The place is actually pretty dismal. Not the kind of place I’d want to spend my last days. I wonder how long they’ll keep the captive alive if he refuses to speak.

  “There are Linkuri headquarters in thirteen locations throughout the world, one for each coven,” Viktor explains, maneuvering our dark sedan into a parking spot near the building’s entrance. “London is the most secure and has the best technology. As a result, it also serves as the home base for the Linkuri Commander.”

  “So these thirteen headquarters,” I say, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. “Are they also used for training new recruits?”

  “Yes.”

  Well, gee. Thanks for that detailed explanation, Viktor. A quick glance at his smiling face tells me he’s being coy on purpose. He knows I’m fishing for information on Nik’s whereabouts. If I want more, I’m going to have to come right out and ask, but now really isn’t the time.

  “Let’s do this,” I say, throwing my door open and stepping out of the car.

  As we approach the main entrance, the steel doors swing open to reveal the Commander flanked by two of his guards. He’s a mountain of a man at six and a half feet tall, give or take. I’d bet he also tips the scale at three hundred pounds. There’s no two ways about it, the guy is a beast. His large size combined with his surly expression would probably send a lesser vamp scrambling back to the car.

  “Commander John Smith,” he barks, offering me his hand. I suppress a giggle, wondering if John Smith is his real name. “Welcome to London, Elder Lescinka. It’s an honor to have you, although I do wish it were under better circumstances.”

  “That makes two of us,” I return, giving his hand a firm shake. “I trust you know Viktor?”

  The two men exchange a quick handshake before we are sealed inside the dimly lit building. Commander Smith turns to me.

  “I understand this is your first time in Linkuri headquarters. I’d be happy to give you a tour myself, if you’d like?”

  “I would appreciate that,” I tell him honestly. I need to know as much about Linkuri operations as possible, and indulging him in a tour of the command center can only help earn his favor.

  Commander Smith leads us down the narrow cement corridor, which has no doors or windows, only an elevator at the far end. We board the elevator and descend into the earth as predicted.

  “The upper levels are barracks for my men. Feeding facilities, training facilities, and the like,” he explains, swiping his ID card to activate the lift. We skip the first several floors, the elevator coming to rest on level four. “Welcome to the Pit.”

  The door slides open to reveal a massive command center. The expansive room is filled to capacity with computers and other high-tech equipment I can’t identify. There also happen to be more Linkuri in this one room than I’ve ever seen in my life. The atmosphere is electric. Shouted orders, buzzing machinery, blinking screens. It’s a whirlwind of activity.

  “The Pit is what we call our central command,” Smith explains. “The other twelve headquarters have a similar setup, but the scale is a bit smaller. All thirteen facilities are connected, giving us real-time access to all systems from this location.”

  “Impressive,” I say, scanning the room. And it is. Smith has eyes on the entire vamp world… literally. “And yet, with all this technology, we have no leads on the Order?”

  Smith visibly tenses, his mouth forming a grim line. “I can assure you, Elder Lescinka, that we are doing everything in our power to find your uncle and locate the Order.”

  “I meant no disrespect,” I reply, hoping to placate his bruised ego. “I was just wondering what good all of this technology is if we can’t even identify our enemy?”

  “My people are working around the clock. No one rests until this thing is over.”

  “This thing,” I say quietly, “may go on for quite some time if we don’t get a break.”

  He gives us a cursory tour of the well-stocked armory and research facilities during which Viktor remains silent. He’s seen it all before. Finally, we move on to the containment cells which are located on the lowest level of the compound.

  “It’s my understanding that this prisoner has yielded nothing,” I say as Smith punches in the electronic code to access containment. “Is that true?”

  Commander Smith grinds his teeth, and I notice a vein at his temple begin to throb. I’ve touched a nerve. “He’ll break. They all do. Eventually.”

  Despite his certainty, I have my doubts. If the guy hasn’t cracked yet, it’s for one of two reasons: he has nothing of value to offer or he’s fully committed. Like zealot committed. My money is on door number two.

  Unsurprisingly, most of the cells we pass are empty. I note there are two types of cells: those comprised of thick iron bars and those with thick iron doors. Both look unpleasant. I pray I never get to experience either firsthand. I’d rather die than be locked in one of those tiny cages for eternity with no hope of escape.

  Turns out the prisoner we’ve come to visit is locked in one of the cells with a metal door. Smith punches in the code, and the security lock is deactivated, permitting us entry. I’m surprised when Smith doesn’t draw his weapon for protection as we enter. Perhaps he doesn’t think all that much of his newest Elder.

  My concerns are short-lived. We step into the cell and see the prisoner lying prostrate on the floor. He doesn’t move or otherwise acknowledge our presence. Possibly because he can’t. The Linkuri have worked him over something fierce. His body is horribly bruised and battered. Revulsion coils in my belly, and I have to force myself to take a step forward.

  I want so badly to look away. I don’t want to see this, don’t want these images seared in to my memory for all time. It’s disgusting. Inhumane. Sick. How one vampire could do this to another, I’ll never know. I’m not exactly the warm-and-fuzzy-bunny type, but this is extreme even for me.

  This man has literally been tortured to the point of death. He’d have died a dozen times over if he weren’t a vampire. Probably wishes he were dead. As he lies in a pool of his own blood and filth, I count five obviously broken bones. How many more are there that I can’t see? His back has been lashed to a bloody pulp. His clothes, or what remains of them, are shredded and blood-soaked.

  They aren’t feeding him, I realize. It’s a method of torture, perhaps the most devastating tactic of all. The only way to keep him like this is to withhold blood. If he were feeding, his body would have repaired itself by now. Without blood, the healing process is severely limited. His pain must be
unimaginable.

  “Commander, please get this prisoner a pint of blood,” I say, doing my best to sound authoritative. Despite my anger at the treatment of this mixed-blood prisoner, I know I must appear unmoved. I cannot let the Commander see how depraved I believe his actions to be. Not if I want those daily reports to be timely or accurate.

  “With all due respect,” he says, eyeing me as if I’ve grown a second head, “I can’t do that.”

  “That was not a request, Commander. It was an order.” Viktor places a hand on my shoulder. It’s a warning. I shrug it off. “I would like to speak to this prisoner, and that will not be possible if he cannot even lift his head from the floor.” I nearly add that he can always rough him up again later, but I can’t bring myself to utter the words, no matter how they might convince him I care nothing for the vamp lying at my feet. Because I know that’s exactly what he will do when I leave. The knowledge is crushing.

  Smith pulls out his comm device and calls for the blood. I can’t say I’m relieved because it’s impossible to feel anything good standing in the presence of this prisoner. We wait in silence for the delivery. When the blood arrives, I grab the pouch before Smith can claim it.

  “I’d like to speak to the prisoner alone.”

  “I cannot allow that,” Smith says, shaking his head vehemently. “It wouldn’t be prudent.”

  “Commander, with all due respect, your best men have gotten nothing from this prisoner. What can it hurt? Look at him,” I say, forcing a bitter laugh that sounds maniacal to my own ears. “He’s hardly in any condition to try anything. Just give me five minutes with him. Viktor will be here to protect me.”

  Smith is displeased but acquiesces to my request. “I want to go on record as saying I think this is a shit idea.”

  “Duly noted,” I tell him as he exits the cell.

  Once Viktor and I are alone with the prisoner, I crouch on the floor next to him, careful not to kneel in his blood.

  “What’s your name?” I ask, hoping to build some kind of rapport and distance myself from the monsters who did this to him. Deep down, I know it’s not possible. After all, the Linkuri work for the Council, and that might just make me the worst monster of them all.

  He doesn’t respond, so I push the hair back from his forehead. His eyes flash open, startling me. I try again. “What is your name?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he mumbles, wincing in pain. Guilt wracks me. He was probably better off unconscious.

  “My name is Katia,” I tell him. “Aldo Lescinka is my uncle. I believe your people have taken him. If you help me, I can help you.”

  He tries to laugh, but comes out more like a broken sob. “Nice. Try.” He coughs, and a trickle of blood leaks from the corner of his mouth. I push my personal feelings aside. His pain is a tidal wave of misery. If I’m not careful, I’ll drown in it. Viktor takes a step toward us, but I motion him back with a flick of the wrist. This is my responsibility. Besides, Viktor is no less threatening than the Linkuri who did this. I fear his presence will only further derail my efforts.

  “You need to feed,” I say, offering him the pouch of blood. I hold it close to his mouth so that he can bite it easily. He doesn’t move. “You’ll die without it. They will kill you.”

  “I. Know.”

  I switch tactics. “Why are you doing this? There has to be a better way.”

  “We,” he wheezes, barely able to form the word, “are through talking. Violence. Is the only thing. Your kind. Understand.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Home, sweet home. I stand in the foyer, thankful to be back at the manor and away from the prying eyes of, well, everyone. Unfortunately, this homecoming isn’t quite living up to my expectations. Something feels… off. It’s strange. Everything looks just as I remember. Polished floors. Fresh flowers. Moonlight slanting through the windows. And despite all of this, the manor feels abandoned. My mind is playing tricks on me. I know it, but I still can’t help but wonder how one person can even be missed in a house this large? The manor is lifeless without Aldo. I feel it in my bones.

  “Welcome home, Miss.” The words snap me out of my reverie, and I turn to face the maid who’s entered from the parlor. She gives a small bow, our eyes meeting as she returns to her full height. I don’t recognize her. She must be new. “We’re all very sorry about your uncle.”

  I wonder how true that statement is given her status as a mixed-blood.

  “Elder Lescinka has always been a very fair man,” she continues, as if reading my mind. “We all hope for his safe return.”

  “Thanks,” I mumble, feeling awkward for doubting her. “Where is Lissette?”

  “The lady of the house is in her room.” She fidgets uncomfortably. “She hasn’t come out in days.”

  “Excuse me?” I ask, hoping I somehow misunderstood. Viktor enters with our bags, but luggage is the least of my concerns right now.

  “She just sits by the window, staring.”

  “Why wasn’t I informed of this?” I demand. Days? She hasn’t left her room is days? The girl looks to Viktor, and I realize I’m scaring her. So not my intention. I redirect my gaze, and my anger, at Viktor.

  “Katia, your first obligation is to the Council,” he says by way of explanation. “I did not want you to be distracted.”

  “She’s my family!” I shout in a rage-fueled haze. The rational part of my brain knows that he was trying to help, that he was trying to protect me. The irrational part of my brain says eff that. He had no right to keep this information from me. “Maybe the only family I have left! That is what comes first. Always. Remember that.”

  “You are a member of the Consiliul de Batrani,” Viktor says, as if I need reminding. “Your first obligation is to your society and the people you serve.”

  I am seeing red now. I want to attack, to punch something. I feel the pressure of the past few weeks building behind my eyelids. I see Aldo, Shaye, Nik, the Council, the broken body of the vamp whose name I’ll never know. It’s too much. How can I possibly save them all?

  “Your needs no longer come first,” he says plaintively.

  “Oh, really?” I snap, needing to lash out. “Is that how the other twelve members of the Council rule?”

  “Forgive me,” he says, looking disappointed. Freaking disappointed! “I thought you aspired to be more, a true leader.”

  He might as well have punched me the gut. His words decimate me, cutting right to the core. Hell’s bells! Once again, Viktor is right. Which means I’m wrong. Again. I take a deep breath and blow it out through my nose. “Is there anything else you’ve been holding back?”

  “No.”

  “Very well. I’m going to find Lissette.” I sling my bag over my shoulder and trudge toward the stairs, dreading what I’ll find in Lissette’s quarters.

  “Additional security will be arriving this evening,” Viktor calls after me. I stop halfway up the stairs and turn.

  “Linkuri?”

  “Yes. We cannot take any chances with your safety or the safety of the other Council members.”

  “Doesn’t that concern you?” I ask, knowing full well that the primary function of the Linkuri is not personal security. They’re assassins. Hunters. “They should be out tracking the Order and keeping the peace, not babysitting like Pazitor.”

  Viktor shrugs noncommittally. His face is unreadable. “We cannot afford to lose another Elder, and the Linkuri are our best line of defense.”

  I turn on my heel. Arguing won’t do any good now. They’re already on their way. Which completely pisses me off. Viktor has gone behind my back to arrange for the additional security, and I don’t like it. Not. One. Bit. We are supposed to be a team. If I can’t count on him, I’ve got no one.

  I stop by my room and deposit my bag on the bed. The urge to curl up next to it is nearly impossible to resist. I want nothing more than to shut the rest of the world out and wallow in the dark, but I can’t do that. Not now anyway. Lissette needs me.

&nb
sp; The door to her room is locked when I get there. Guess that explains why no one has gone in. I’ve never been in Aldo and Lissette’s personal quarters before, and the idea of breaking in uninvited feels icky, but what choice do I have? I grip the doorknob and give it a hard twist. The lock snaps easily under the pressure of my powerful grip. It’s meant for privacy, not security. I open the door a crack and call out to announce my presence.

  “Lissette? It’s Katia. Can I come in?”

  I wait maybe three seconds. That’s about all the patience I can muster.

  “I’m coming in,” I announce, slipping through the door and closing it behind me. Without the light from the hall spilling in, it’s pitch black. The blinds are drawn, and there’s not a single source of light in the room. I scan my surroundings, taking in the grand size and opulence of the sitting room. My feet sink into the plush carpet as I cross to the bedroom, moving easily around the overstuffed chairs and antique tables in the dark.

  I find Lissette sitting by the window in the bedroom. She stares out at the moon with a vacant expression on her face. Her clothes are rumpled, and it looks like she’s been wearing them for days. She probably has, I realize. I wonder when she last fed.

  “Lissette?”

  She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even flinch. I move to her side, taking her hand in mine.

  “Please talk to me, Lissette,” I plead, kneeling before her. It breaks my heart to see her like this. Catatonic. Disheveled. Broken.

  Lissette is one of the most put-together women I know. Her hair, her makeup, her clothes. She’s the picture of perfection. A perfect ten. Every day. I rub her cold, lifeless hand, refusing to believe that the sweet, warm woman I’ve come to love isn’t in there somewhere.

  “I’m so sorry about Aldo,” I tell her, a traitorous tear leaking from my eye. Lissette flinches at the mention of his name but continues to stare right through me as if I don’t exist. I grasp her shoulders, shaking her in frustration. “You have to snap out of it, Lissette. We have to be strong for Aldo.”