Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
Della
The van lurched up a short, steep hill and the two beings disappeared right before my eyes.
“They need more food,” Brett stated casually. The glint in his eye told me he wanted me to freak out or ask more questions. I did neither.
“You know your boyfriend is a bloodsucker, right?”
I ignored him.
“You’re just a snack.”
Still, I ignored him.
“Snack Pack.” He laughed.
“You’re on the wrong side, Della,” he said, softening his voice. “We’ve got money too.”
The van backed up to the house and I looked through the windows. This was where my whole drug-debacle began. Here, at a party. I didn’t want the memories; I’d left it all behind. “I don’t want anything to do with drugs.”
Brett barked out a laugh. “You’re dating a drug dealer, princess. Or, I should say, was dating a drug dealer.”
“That’s different and you know it.” The rear doors opened, and a small group of armed men stood there as we got out. They followed as I was led down a path around the side of the house into the dark backyard. We were escorted to an entry and then down a short set of stairs where Brett brought me into the basement.
There was no sign I’d once almost burned the whole place down. It was dingy and dirty with a weird, faint odor. Other than that, there was a table and chairs, a couch, a daybed, and I could see a small bathroom tucked in the corner.
“Until I know you won’t run, we’re keeping these on,” Brett announced, pushing me into a chair and unlocking my cuffs before relatching one side to the seat.
“What if I have to go to the bathroom?” Brett produced two more pairs of cuffs, joined them, added some zip ties, and attached my ankles to the chair so only my toes reached the floor.
“We'll deal with that when the time comes.”
A door creaked open, and a man walked in. Vincent . “What are you doing down here?” He stood in the open doorway and looked at my jailer. I could see a flight of stairs behind him.
“Rescue mission,” Brett answered, cracking open a beer.
“More like kidnapping.” I tried and failed to lift my arm to show the handcuffs.
Vincent stepped into the room. “What the fuck are you doing, Brett? Get this out of my house.” He pointed at him, and then at me.
“She’s in danger, Vincent. My woman is in danger,” Brett said, taking a seat.
How many times did I have to tell him? “I’m not your girlfriend.”
Vincent gave me a quick look and then motioned to Brett with his finger and the two of them left the room. As much as I could with my wrists bound to the chair, I tried to see how I would possibly free myself. The stool was similar to a seat one would find in a school, all metal and thick plastic. There was no way I could break it. The best I could do was rock it slightly and move around a little. My wrists started bleeding from the friction. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel it.
I stopped hopping in my seat and took a deep breath when I felt my hair stirring at the back of my head. “Who’s there?” I couldn’t turn my shoulders far enough to look, the cuffs were attached to the spacer bars between the chair legs, and I had next to no range of motion.
The hair at the nape of my neck was pulled out of my bun but nothing had touched my skin. I tried bouncing the chair around and whatever was behind me kept up with my movements. My hair was still suspended in the air by the ghostly presence.
The creeping feeling it sent down my spine was like that of fingernails on a chalkboard.
“Who’s there?” I asked again, raising my voice.
There was a sound behind me like the rustle of fabric and I tried to turn the chair yet again. The faintest cold touch trailed down the back of my neck, stopping between my shoulder blades as my heart slammed into my ribs. Panic began to flow through me at the phantom contact and my eyes started watering all over again.
The cold tendrils multiplied and traced back up to wind around the side of my neck. A chill breeze prickled my skin, and I whipped my head around, trying to escape the feeling while pulling at the floor with my feet. There was nothing there. The chair rocked back and forth, and then started to tip over.
My shoulder smashed into the hard floor, and I was trapped with an ache radiating down my side. Wincing with pain, I found I could turn myself a little, using the front edge of my shoe, but it was useless. There was no way of telling what Brett planned on doing with me and there was some friend of his or something else down here messing with me. I was on the verge of a full-fledged panic attack.
The lights flicked off, plunging me into darkness. I screamed.
As far as I knew, all the doors and windows were shut. It was not a windy night. There was nothing to account for the Arctic-like breeze that ran over me and forced my teeth into a rattling chatter. It felt like oxygen was being sucked out of my lungs as the cold wind flew down my throat, choking me. My spittle hardened on my skin and a cough was building up deep inside. There was nothing I could do to alleviate the agony.
Still attempting to get away from the invisible presence, my shoe scraped on the floor again, but I was rapidly weakening, unable to breathe.
Next thing I knew, the lights flicked back on, and the door Brett had disappeared through earlier opened at the same moment the rear entryway unlatched.
It felt as if all the air was sucked out of the basement with one large whoosh of wind, tossing my loose hair . I heard screaming, someone yelling, and then Micha bent down in front of me and freed me. Vaguely, I heard him ask if I was all right, but I didn’t get the chance to answer. He pushed his arms under my shoulders when I got on my knees, and I looked toward the commotion.
Vincent was backing up with his hands in the air, shaking his head, and Josiah had Brett lifted in the air by his neck like a trophy. If Micha hadn’t been holding me, I would have collapsed.
My man was all fire and fury, every sculpted bone of his face etched with anger, his black eyes swirling with thick smoke. The color had drained from Brett’s face, his fingers white as he grasped Josiah’s hands, trying to wrench himself free. Josiah twisted, slamming him down onto the floor so hard the concrete split and then he dropped to one knee.
Brett’s head bounced once; the sound hollow. “You dare to touch her? To take her and subject her to your filth?”
Micha glanced at me, likely checking for injury. I gave him a small nod letting him know I was okay. Satisfied, he stood up and I remained on the floor, my legs folded under me.
Josiah raised himself and when Brett tried to wiggle away, he stomped him in the chest with his boot, pinning him. “We’re taking him with us.”
He swung a look at Vincent. “Please forgive us the chaos.”
He waved a hand slowly over Brett’s face and then swung around and was squatting in front of me before I knew what happened. I would have tipped back if he hadn’t caught me. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, his eyes instantly softening when they found my own.
“I am,” I answered, gripping his shoulders for leverage. I stood up and glanced at Brett. He lay prone, his terror filled gaze darting back and forth.
“How is he still alive?” After watching the floor split, I didn’t understand how such a thing was possible.
Josiah looked at me earnestly. “I need him alive and conscious.”
Vincent shoved the body out of his way with a firm kick of his heel, sending Brett toward a corner as he moved closer. “No hard feelings, this wasn’t sanctioned by me.”
Josiah glanced at Micha who then leaned down and grabbed Brett’s legs. I watched as he walked out the back door, dragging him like a blanket. My ex took one last, pleading look at me before his head bounced against the threshold.
“I have no idea what he was going to do to me; he didn’t say,” I said, to no one in particular. No one answered. He’d made it seem like we were going to have never-ending date nights, but I knew that couldn’t have been it. Brett must’ve had other plans. What they were, I doubted I’d ever find out.
The sound of Micha or someone else closing a car trunk echoed through the open door. Vincent glanced in the direction of the noise before turning to Josiah. “You must be Josiah,” he said.
“I am,” he replied.
Vincent leveled a gaze at him. “The strong arm of the Ancients. I’ve heard of you.”
Josiah met his gaze. “I no longer work in the same manner for the Collective.” He beckoned me with two fingers, and I moved to his side.
“Stay on your side of the tracks,” Vincent said.
“I have no interest in your business, I am merely attending to my own,” he said, grasping my hand. He tipped his head to Brett’s friend, and we walked out.
Vincent called after us, “Just a friendly warning.”
The original plans were stuck with, and we drove to Josiah’s home in upstate New York. The car’s tires crunched over gravel as we traversed the long, curved driveway lined with oaks reminiscent of the deep south. Manicured lawns surrounded the stately home—it looked like a manor just as he’d said, and if I hadn’t known any better, I’d have thought we were in the English countryside.
Like the man it belonged to, it held a foreboding air under the moonlight with its dark stone and pitched roofs. The residence looked like no one had been there a while, the windows dark and with a feeling of emptiness permeating the grounds. It was as if there were a void, a distinct lack of any type of life, and we were lost in the vacuum of space.
The breeze blew the loose strands of hair into my eyes while I examined the property. In the distance I thought I saw movement, a slight shifting of shadows that the trees couldn’t be responsible for, and I moved closer to Josiah. The trunk of the vehicle popped open, and Micha bent down.
“Let’s go inside.” Josiah slid an arm around me and led me away as I looked over my shoulder.
“Is there something out there?”
“I have a couple wraiths that monitor the property. They are subject to me; they won’t hurt you.”
I shuddered, huddled at his side as he led me to the front door. One by one, lights popped on, and the elegant manor started to come to life as if waking from a long slumber. The front door was opened, and a man so pale he was nearly translucent stood just inside. He held the thick wooden panel, bowing slightly, as we entered.
“Thank you, Murdock,” Josiah said. I tried not to stare rudely, but something was very different about the man, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
“Demon,” Josiah told me. “Lesser, from an arctic type of world.”
“Were there just wraiths outside?” The shifting shadows I’d seen seemed unnatural and made me think of whatever had touched me while I’d been shackled to the chair at Vincent’s house. I hadn’t been able to see anything, but it felt like what I’d imagine a shadow would. If a shadow could even touch you.
“Just the wraiths.”
While pondering the fascinating confirmation of the other beings, I looked around the foyer. We had just entered the home, and it was what I’d imagined it would look like, wooden molding in warm colors, with black and gold accents everywhere.
“Something touched me, earlier, at that house. It choked me. It was cold.” I looked up at the man beside me. “I’m sorry your celebration dinner was ruined. I had no idea Brett would do something like that.”
Josiah unbuttoned his jacket, stripping down to the dark red button-up shirt he wore underneath, the color reminiscent of drying blood. He folded the coat, laying it over his forearm. “His mind was disturbed, which I can fully understand when it comes to you.”
He wrapped a hand around the back of my neck and pulled me close to kiss my forehead. “He won’t be bothering you anymore.”
A pang of guilt needled at me. It was my fault things had come to this. I should’ve been firmer with Brett or worked harder. There was nothing in my life that should’ve stopped me from getting a third job; I could’ve worked nights too, instead of two daytime jobs. Melinda was always around to assist; it didn’t all fall on me. I could’ve done more. I could’ve paid what I owed.
Brett never would’ve tried to pull anything like what he had tonight if I’d just put my foot down. I’d taken advantage of him, using his company and, at times, his body. Just like he’d done to me.
“It's totally my fault though, I led him on.” I put my hand on his arm. “I mean, I told him I just wanted to be friends, but I still hung out with him all the time. That let him think there was a chance.”
“If you're asking for mercy, I have none,” Josiah growled. “His behavior can’t stand.”
“But I could’ve taken more control of the situation. You wouldn’t have had to come rescue me,” I argued with him.
Josiah reached out and held the side of my face, his thumb stroking my skin. “You can’t control everything.” Something flickered in his gaze, but it was gone before I could ask.
He turned away from me and started walking, before he motioned for me to follow. We crossed the foyer, and he led me up a staircase.
My mind raced, wondering what he meant. What would he do to Brett? “What are you going to do?”
“You took control in the only way you knew how, with your limited options. He should not have preyed upon you. Now, he’s the captured prey.”
At the top, I peered down the hall and saw a woman carrying a basket with what looked like a pile of linen inside. She bustled through a door and out of sight. “Demon,” Josiah told me, following my gaze. “I don’t employ humans in my home.”
“Where do you... How do you find them?”
Did he have a supernatural creature detector? He’d told me he was from a place called the Second Realm and told me how he was apparently the last of his kind, unless more were born. He’d told me how our relationship was forbidden.
I knew next to nothing about where he’d said he came from, other than it was populated with a multitude of traditionally evil beings. It must take one to know one and I was under no illusions despite my feelings for the man. He wasn’t going to let Brett live. Should I fight for his life? I didn’t feel inclined to, as he’d risked mine.
“There are many here, in your realm. They know I offer them shelter and safety if they accept what I offer.” He opened the door to the suite.
There was a dark current lying below his words. “And if they don’t accept?”
He smirked lightly and guided me inside. “Then they receive neither shelter nor safety.”
I let out a sigh. I knew he was intensely private and reclusive, and I understood why given what he was. It wasn’t exactly something one would advertise. “Vincent knew who you were.”
“Yes, it seems I’ve become a curiosity.” He frowned and then said, “Your new guards will be here shortly.”
“New guards?”
“You’ll have new ones in a few minutes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t accept failure.” Josiah crossed the room and opened a closet door. “You’ll find a change of clothes in here. If anything isn’t to your liking, let me know.”
Stepping into the huge walk-in, I looked around. Racks of women’s clothing covered one side of the wide, open space with an island in the middle. Chandeliers with dangling crystals hung overhead, shedding a soft, golden light.
“Do you have to kill Brett?” I asked softly.
Josiah’s eyes narrowed and then he stopped moving completely so it seemed he’d stopped functioning as a living being. As if someone had flicked a light switch, he reanimated and spoke. “Little One, if I grant him life, he won’t stop coming after you. I’ve claimed you, and now you’re marked.”
“Marked?”
“Your scent is all over me, and mine—you. There is no hiding it.”
Spotting leggings on a shelf, I grabbed them while thinking of being marked . “Is that how you found me so quickly?”
I felt him press against me as I searched for a comfortable shirt, and he slid his hands up and down my upper arms. “Yes, and I can’t tell you how infuriating it is to smell you on the man. If only I had found you sooner,” he stated wistfully. “Then no one else ever would’ve touched you.”
“Are you killing him because he took me without permission or because he touched me?”
The grin in his voice was heard loud and clear. “Both.”
While I was flattered, it seemed a bit overkill to me. Overkill . I huffed a short laugh at my own thoughts. “How many people?” If he needed blood to live, I could only imagine the number was unfathomable.
As I tugged a soft shirt from the pile, he said, “Legions.”
It wasn’t a shocker. “Do you just bite people?”
Josiah laughed. “No, although of course I do that as well. I mold the execution to the crime whenever possible.”
For a moment, I pictured Josiah covered with blood, reminiscent of the times we’d made love, and he’d feasted on me. He didn’t drink from me each time, but it was a regular occurrence. I couldn’t say I didn’t enjoy the thrill of him enjoying every part of me, and he was ridiculously sexy covered in blood.
My body warmed at the visuals as I began to change out of my dress. He stepped behind me and slowly slid my zipper down, his finger smoothing over my skin and his other hand at my waist. My body was craving his as I melted into his touch. My head tilted back against him, baring my neck and he answered my silent plea, running his lips up and down the length.
“Della, I have business to take care of. When I come back, I’ll take care of you,” he said, his voice low and heated. He ran his fingernails down my side, making me wiggle against him. “I promise." I let out a decidedly unsexy grunt and turned around.
“If you want anything to eat, just pick up the phone by the bed and it will be brought to you,” he said.
Josiah left the bedroom, closing the door behind him. I finished getting changed and then wandered into the bathroom. I opened cabinets and drawers, poking around to see where things were.
Josiah had all the cosmetics and toiletries I normally used stocked and ready for me, right down to the brand of toothpaste. He’d assured me I didn’t need to pack any of my things, and now I could see why.
It seemed like entirely too much trouble to expect someone to bring food up to me when I could easily get myself something. Plus, I had a manor to explore.