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Vampire Samaritan
Dominiquesteppedawayfromthe door, staring at it as though it were a portal to another world. In a way it was—Adilla’s world.
Summoning every shred of strength, he landed a massive kick against it. Every bone in his foot shattered on impact while the door itself didn’t suffer so much as a dent. He swallowed an agonized scream in a vehement huff of “Putain!”
The phone in his pocket buzzed.
“What’s going on?” Cassidy demanded the moment he swiped to accept the call.
“I found the place where Aubrey was executed.”
“And?”
“And…” He turned around, scanning every square inch of the tiny prison. “I seem to be trapped in it.”
“What?”
“I am not shackled, and dawn is almost two hours away. There is no cause for panic just yet.” Though his gut disagreed. There, panic simmered like a vat of acid.
Frantic rustling sounded on her end. Sheets being tossed and drawers opened. Her voice muffled and garbled as she moved the phone. “…building that Natalia showed you? On Georgia Street?”
“What? Yes.”
“Good. I’m coming to get you.”
That vat of acid stepped up to a full boil. “No. No, donotleave there, and donotcome here. Never come here. Do you understand? Not even during the day.” Compelled humans operating on Adilla’s behalf were bound to be in the area at all times, perhaps throughout the entire city. For all he knew, he was being monitored right now. He dared not mention her name or her location or reveal any clues as to her immense importance to him.
“Why? I thought there was no one else there?”
Dominique leaned one forearm against the concrete wall. “I did not exactly trap myself in here.”
“Oh my God.”
“Promise me you will stay where you are. Please. I will think of something.”
“I don’t like this.” She sounded calmer. “I’ll give you an hour. Then I will definitely think of something.”
Dominique smiled to himself. His lioness had been well and truly roused. “Just stay there.”
After the call disconnected, he paced the periphery of the room. It was little more than a storage closet, a heavily fortified one. He slammed several more kicks and punches at every wall with nothing but more broken bones to show for it. As his wrist knit back together yet again, he stood staring out the window at the traffic flowing far below. This glass he could break, but there were no ledges or handholds visible outside. A direct drop looked like the only option, but a fall from this height could well kill even an immortal, if his head hit the pavement hard enough to shatter. That wasn’t a risk he wanted to take, at least not yet.
Half an hour later, Dominique had made small headway on a weak spot in one wall where a large chip of concrete had broken free under his assault. Several more, smaller ones followed, but progress was tediously slow. After every punch or kick, he had to wait for his bones to mend, and the healing interval was growing longer and longer as he exhausted what little strength he had left.
He was waiting to heal again when he heard another heartbeat. This one was slower than Esteban’s, but also stronger as it approached in no particular hurry. Dominique didn’t move or call out. His own racing heart would betray his presence to the newcomer well enough.
The lock unlatched, and the door swung into the room. A new blood-drinker surveyed him, but instead of Esteban’s contempt, this man looked troubled. He was east asian, not tall, but built like a barrel, and possessed a quiet, imposing presence. He wore a long, tan overcoat that was unbuttoned, revealing a standard suit and tie. No hat or gloves. His hooded eyes flickered to the damaged wall before settling on the prisoner.
Dominique rose to his feet and moved toward the door. He was in far poorer shape now than he had been earlier, and this new vampire, judging by his dry scent, was easily twice Esteban’s age. Dominique would take no chances about being trapped in here again, though he didn’t relish a direct confrontation.
None was forthcoming. The other vampire stepped aside and let him pass. Dominique put the long conference table between them before he stopped. “Thank you.”
His rescuer inclined his head and spoke in a distinctive baritone voice. “Just tell me this, young one. What did you do to piss him off?”
“I exist.”
“Ah. The usual then.”
Dominique shook out his hand to speed the healing process. “The usual?”
