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"Not all vampires are bad," I said, still pulling at my wrist. The chains rattled every time I did it, but Hanna didn't seem to notice. I could only hope it remained that way. My skin had grown slippery rather quickly-thanks to the rough edges on the silver cuffs-and the scent of fresh blood filled the air. Thankfully, I was the only nonhuman in the room, so with any sort of luck, she wouldn't realize what I was attempting until it was too late. "Not all vampires deserve to die."
She thumped the pestle down on the table so suddenly I actually jumped. "You kill vampires for a living. You've seen the very worst they can do. Why the hell would you even think any of them deserve to live?"
"Because every race has its good and its bad. You can't judge the entire lot by a few bad examples."
She snorted and walked over to the shelving unit. "They all drink blood. They all have the capacity to go too far."
So did humans, but I didn't think she was going to be receptive to that sort of logic. I gave my wrist another experimental tug and it slipped, ever so slightly, through the cuffs. Not enough to escape, but enough to give me hope that it would work, if I kept persisting.
If she gave me time.
"Killing isn't just the province of vampires."
She swung around to face me, her expression one of pure fury. "It wasn't a human who attacked Jessica and put her in a wheelchair or who sliced my husband's head off in a fit of anger. It wasn't a human who stole and changed my daughter."
Something in the way she said that made my insides go cold. "What do you mean, changed?"
"What do you think I mean?" She slapped a knife and another larger bowl onto the table. "He made her one of them."
Vampires couldn't make humans change with just a bite. That was little more than a Hollywood myth. It took a blood ceremony and consent for a human to cross over, so if Hanna's daughter had become a vampire, she'd done so of her own free will.
The question was, just how badly had Mommy reacted to her daughter's decision?
If the wildness in her eyes was anything to go by, the answer could only be very badly indeed.
"What does your daughter think of you slaughtering her people?"
"Her people?"
Hanna's voice had become so shrill it made my ears ache. She picked up an empty bowl and threw it at me. I had nowhere to go and no way to avoid it, so it hit the top of my head-hard. The blow left me bleeding and stunned, and more determined than ever to get away from this crazy bitch. I yanked at my wrist harder, felt it slip through a little farther. A few more tugs, and I just might be free enough to defend myself.
"My daughter was human," she spat. "And she died human."
Even though I'd suspected that outcome, her words still made me sick. How could any mother, no matter how desperate, ever kill her own child? There were always other options. Always. You just had to reach out and talk to someone.
Though I guess that someone whose grip on sanity had to be fractional, at best, having her daughter turn into one of the "monsters" must have seemed the ultimate betrayal.
"So you killed your own flesh and blood?" I continued to yank at my wrist, the rough metal edges digging deeper and deeper into my flesh. It hurt like hell but I didn't care, because whatever this madwoman was planning to do with the goop in the bowl and that fucking long knife would surely hurt me more.
"I didn't kill her," she refuted, stalking back over to the shelving unit. "I saved her. Or rather, I saved her soul."
"How did you stop her from rising?" I gave a final pull on my wrist and it finally slipped free. The chains rattled like an alarm, and I grabbed wildly at the cuff to stop it from slipping to the floor.
With one wrist free, I could at least defend myself. But actually getting off this table and away from Hanna remained a problem. The numbness from the silver bullet still lodged in my shoulder prevented me from moving my other arm, and tugging on my ankle chains would not only create a whole lot more noise, it would be more visible.
"I bound her to the grave," Hanna said. "It cost me a lot, that binding, but at least I can sleep knowing my daughter is safe."
She selected a canister from the shelving unit and walked back over to the table. She raised the knife, sliced her scarred palm, and let the wound bleed into the smaller bowl. The sweet forest scent changed, suddenly becoming something deeper and darker, and yet still not totally unpleasant.
"Did you stake her?" I asked. "Chop off her head?"
She gave me a shocked sort of look. "Of course not! What do you think I am? A monster, like them?"
"Oh, I think you're something far, far worse, lady."
The words were out before I could stop them, but she merely laughed. It wasn't a sane sound, but that was no surprise.
"Because of the way I kill them? Believe me, I'm only doing to them what they did to my husband, to Jessica, and to my daughter."
