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She gave me a serene sort of smile, then turned away and walked back to the table. I twitched my extremities again, and was relieved to discover that everything that should wriggle did. The mix might be stronger, it might make the tingling fiercer, but it still wasn't completely freezing me. Which made me wonder if the mix was wrong, or whether the fact that I was a half-breed was fouling the reaction.
She returned carrying the knife. I didn't move, just watched her. To have any sort of chance against the woman, I needed her to get closer. Needed to grab that knife and use it against her flesh rather than mine.
She grabbed my right arm and pulled it away from my body. The arm was numb, so it flopped around like so much dead flesh, and she made a satisfied sound in the back of her throat. I held my tongue and didn't say anything, hopefully giving her the impression the powder had done its work and stolen the power of speech.
With my arm positioned on its side and presumably over the bowl, she clasped the ornate silver knife with both hands and raised it above her head.
Fear slithered through me. The mad bitch was going to cut off my arm. Why else would she need that much leverage to cut flesh? A quick slice along the forearm from the wrist was all it took to get a decent bleed-and yeah, werewolves were tough, but we still had skin like a regular human, not a rhinoceros.
She began to murmur, the words incomprehensible. Maybe it was sorcerer talk, maybe it was a prayer in some old language. I didn't really care, because my attention was on the gleaming knife being held above my body. I'd get only one chance at stopping that knife. Once she realized I was partially free, she'd no doubt either knock me out or kill me, and I wasn't overly thrilled with either option.
She continued to murmur and tension wound through me, tightening my muscles and making my stomach ache. The pain in my shoulder seemed to have retreated, but not the numbness. It was now creeping outward, reaching toward my neck. If I didn't remove the bullet soon, I'd be in real trouble.>"Oh, I began paying my price long before I came into the dark magic."
She was still mixing the herbs, and the aroma seemed to be getting stronger. My nose twitched, and despite the pleasing scent, I wasn't entirely sure my reaction was due to pleasure. That scent was still setting alarm bells off, and while I wasn't sure why, I'd learned long ago to listen to such warnings.
I tried twisting my wrist in the cuff, and discovered there was plenty of room to move around in them-but a quick snap back had my fist jamming fast. Still, maybe it I made it slick enough-wet enough-my wrist might just slip through. It was worth trying, and it wasn't as if I had any other option right now anyway.
Of course, the only way I was going to make my skin slippery was to draw blood, and that wasn't going to be pleasant. But it would surely be better than whatever Hanna was planning.
"Is that the other reason why you're killing the vampires? Because of the price you paid personally?"
"They are the killers, every one of them. Rich, dead, and killers reborn. It is an instinct with them, and they deserve nothing more than real death." Her voice had take on a slightly shrill edge, and she was pounding the mix so hard the bowl was in danger of breaking.
Obviously, vampires had done a whole lot more to her than just paralyze Jessica. And I was curious enough to want to know what.
"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."
