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Esteban had changed his vomit-soaked trousers for a fresh pair and occupied a small bench near Adilla’s throne, which was apparently reserved for the favored few. He held out his glass. When Jackson filled it, he growled between grinning teeth, “Donotget sick, you filthy blood bag.”
It was the one compulsion Jackson gladly accepted. He made good use of it and every other mental exercise in his bag of tricks as Esteban and Adilla reminisced about the bloodcurdling details of countless vampire atrocities—including Justin’s death. This was followed by a vivid discussion about what to do with Jackson, complete with curious glances in his direction. He prayed he was too valuable as a toy to dispose of quickly, but made peace with the thought of dying at any moment. He had no control over anything except his own reaction.Nothing, it’s nothing,he chanted in his mind over and over again.Nothing at all.
After a while, they tired of their game. Adilla moved on to enjoying members of his court heaping flattery upon him and groveling for favors while Esteban ordered Jackson to bring the pitcher with him to a quiet seat. There, he pulled out a smartphone and checked his email before contacting a long list of operatives and business partners via video. They might hail from long-gone centuries and sit under a mountain, but the colony maintained an admirable Wi-Fi connection to the world.
Jackson swayed on his feet, and half the crowd had already drifted away before Esteban decided what to do with his new sheep. “Go to the surface and attend to your needs,” he said without looking at him. “Be in the cave two hours before nightfall.”
All the way up the lift, Jackson continued his chant.Nothing, it’s nothing.His knees wobbled with relief as he stumbled toward the early morning light in the cave’s mouth. But not until fresh forest air filled his lungs and a glorious blue sky curved overhead did he allow himself to feel again. He sucked at the air, stuffing it into his tight chest until his ribs ached.
A dam broke and all the terror of the night hit him full force.How the fuck am I still alive?He clenched his hands into fists to stop them shaking.Keep your shit together. You’re a long way from getting out of this, he admonished himself.
A very long way.
Dominique was still down there and in no shape to get out on his own, which meant Jackson would go back there. He had promised Cassidy. More than that, Jackson would not abandon his friend, even if he was the pain-in-the-ass lord of the vampires.
Fuck, what a mess.
As the sun broke over the peaks bordering the creek’s far shore, Jackson staggered into the village, hoping against hope to find his car sitting where he had left it with keys in the ignition. Of course, it wasn’t there. Hungry, thirsty and overdosed on adrenaline, he looked around in a daze when the front door of a nearby cottage opened.
“You came back from the cave,” Earl called, sounding more than a little mystified. His bushy brows drew together. “Not many come back from there.”
His wife, a ruddy-cheeked woman with a mop of faded brown curls, was less philosophical. “You must have had quite the night, young man. Come in, come in. We’re just having breakfast.”
As neither one of them wielded a shotgun, Jackson risked taking her up on the offer. He did his best not to gulp the fresh scrambled eggs and salty sausages heaped on his plate, but his appetite was such he wanted to unhinge his jaw and tip this and the next plate down his throat. Is this what it was like for a starving vampire? This gut-wrenching need for…something? He wondered if this was what Dominique would feel when he regained consciousness.
He wondered if he would want to be anywhere near him.
Taking the lead from his hosts, he kept the conversation to a minimum. Whatever they thought of him or where he came from, they didn’t say. Somehow it was understood—he had returned from the cave; he was one of them and in service to the cave dwellers.
Earl’s wife, June, had a mother-hen quality about her in both appearance and spirit as she doted on her guest. Jackson didn’t even need to ask for a place to rest. When he stopped shoveling food in his mouth, she showed him to a small but tidy guest room upstairs and promised to keep down the noise in the house today.
Jackson used the last of his coherent thoughts to wedge a chair under the doorknob and locate and set an ancient analog travel alarm. Its insistent ticking on the nightstand dropped him into dreamless sleep within seconds.
Its shrieking ring pulled him back out only four hours later.
He stretched and shook out his limbs and considered his options. There really was only one. He had to wing it like never before and do it now, while the sun was at its highest. His phone had been taken from him when he was first put in the cell. God only knew where it was, but asking for it might well raise suspicions about his motives. Also, Garrett was too far away to help, and Cassidy was better off not knowing the details. In fact, he fervently hoped her link with Dominique couldn’t reach this far.
Jackson was flying solo. No backup, no Garrett, no Grid. If he failed, he was dead.
I’ve lost my fucking mind, he thought as he made his way downstairs. He had a bride-to-be and a child on the way. The last thing he should do was risk his life for someone who couldn’t die.
No, that wasn’t it. There was more to do down there than to rescue His Badass Highness from this jam. There was Dominique’s sister. She was a half-turned human in dire need of immediate rescuing.
And if he could relieve one Esteban de Santiago of his head along the way, so much the better.
A plan formed amidst his spinning thoughts as he moved down the creaking wooden stairway. Phase one required finding his car. Instead, he found Earl relaxing on the front porch after what—judging by his high color and mud-streaked overalls—appeared to be a long morning on the farm.
“Well, you’re looking a bit better,” his host greeted.
“I’m feeling much better, thanks,” Jackson agreed with an amiable smile. He looked around the yard and bucolic scenery beyond. A handful of people moved in the garden plots, and someone was fishing in the creek, each of them intend on their own business. There was no conversation, no laughter, not even the sound of a radio. Somewhere a cow mooed. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know where my car went, would you?”
“Oh? Going somewhere, son?” Earl wondered, sounding not quite casual.
“And leave all this? Are you kidding? But I have a bag in the back with a change of clothes I could use.”
“Ah, all right. Come, I’ll show you.”
Jackson smiled and nodded as Earl got up and led the way.
