Chapter Thirteen
Icouldn”t help myself. Restlessness clawed at my insides like a wild creature eager to break free from the confines of luxury. Sure, I could”ve gotten a massage or something like Drake suggested, but that”s not what I wanted. What I really wanted was to go for a walk in the city—to stretch my legs and see the sights.
So, I decided to take matters into my own hands and explore the city a little. Drake wouldn”t be happy, but I”ll be back before he even notices I”m gone. I know he”s concerned about any other vampires who might use me to get their hands on this time, so I put on a disguise—a hat and a pair of sunglasses—and headed out into the streets.
I wasn”t planning on going far, just a short walk around the block. But then, I saw a billboard for the occult museum—the very same one where Drake said the knife was being held. A burning curiosity seared my insides, and now my feet are carrying me toward the museum”s entrance.
It”s a small building, but the inside is packed with displays and artifacts from all different times in history. There are voodoo dolls and wax figures, Egyptian carvings, and a section devoted to local witches of legend. I find it fascinating, but eventually, my eyes land on the real reason I came here. In the corner of the room is a glass display case with an ornate silver dagger sitting inside it.
The glass case gleams under the museum”s soft lighting, showcasing the dagger like a prized possession. Its handle, intricately crafted with delicate swirls and patterns, seems to whisper secrets of bygone eras. The blade, made of a gleaming silver alloy, reflects the ambient light in mesmerizing patterns, hinting at the power it holds within. Each curve and line etched into the metal tells a story of ancient craftsmanship and mystique, drawing me closer with an irresistible allure.
As I approach, I notice the intricate engravings adorning the blade, symbols of forgotten languages and arcane knowledge. They seem to pulse with a subtle energy, as if the weapon is alive somehow, infused with magic and power beyond mortal comprehension. I can”t look away, mesmerized by the object”s hypnotic pull on my senses.
I should turn around and leave, but my feet refuse to move, glued in place by unseen forces. My eyes lock onto the dagger”s shimmering blade, entranced by its luminous beauty. Slowly, I reach out, my fingers tracing the cold metal of the glass case. I need to touch it, to feel its energy coursing through my veins. Despite the protective glass barrier, I can almost feel the cool metal beneath my fingertips, sense the weight of it in my hand. It”s as if the dagger is reaching out to me, reaching through time and space to bridge the gap between past and present.
As I stand there, entranced, a security guard approaches.
He eyes me with suspicion, perhaps sensing the unusual connection I feel with the dagger. ”Excuse me, miss. This area is off-limits to visitors. Please step away from the display.”
I quickly withdraw my hand from the glass and realize I”ve stepped beyond the marked boundary.
”Sorry,” I tell him, forcing a smile. ”I”m sorry. I didn”t realize. The dagger just looked so... captivating.”
He narrows his eyes at me but lets out a sigh. ”It has that effect on people. But rules are rules. If you have any questions, feel free to ask the staff at the information desk.”
I nod and mumble a thanks before reluctantly stepping away from the display. The security guard lingers for a moment, ensuring I comply with the rules. As he walks away, my eyes drift back to the dagger. The connection persists, tugging at my senses like a magnet, but I resist the urge.
To distract myself, I decide to explore more of the museum, I follow the winding path through different exhibits, admiring the artifacts and replicas on display. Eventually, I reach a large room dedicated to witchcraft in colonial Salem. It”s fascinating to read about the persecution of innocent people for daring to practice their faith in a free manner. It”s a dark period in history, but one that should never be forgotten.
The museum itself is fairly empty today, aside from a few scattered groups of visitors. In the main room, there are several interactive exhibits geared toward children. I watch as a young boy giggles at a model witch being burned at the stake, and I can”t help but wonder if he understands the grim reality of what”s depicted here.
As I”m watching the child, a loud explosion rips through the air, followed by shouts of alarm, startling both visitors and staff. Panic ensues as smoke billows from a distant section, casting an ominous haze. Instinctively, I turn toward the commotion, the captivating dagger momentarily forgotten.
Chaos unfolds, and I see flames flickering in the distance, accompanied by plumes of dark smoke. Without a second thought, I join the stream of panicked visitors rushing toward the exit. A cacophony of screams and shouts echo through the museum, the panicked voices of people amplifying my own sense of alarm.
We stream out into the street, and I find myself among a mass of people—both museum visitors and tourists—who have all spilled onto the sidewalk. My heart is pounding, and my adrenaline is pumping. This is insane.
”Is everyone okay?” someone cries out, but no one answers. Everyone is too preoccupied with their own shock and fear.
”It was a terror attack,” someone else suggests, which only makes people panic more.
My mind is racing, trying to make sense of what just happened. An explosion in an occult museum could be the work of some religious fanatics, but the fact that it happened right after I arrived seems too coincidental to ignore.
People are still milling about aimlessly, unsure what to do, as emergency personnel rush toward the museum”s entrance. I glance back at the burning building and feel a pang of regret. Maybe if I”d have stayed in the hotel room, none of this would”ve happened.
I turn on my heels, stuff my hands in my pockets, and head away from the scene, determined to stop defying Drake and stay put for the remainder of the trip. A man appears in front of me, dressed in black slacks and a leather jacket with a white shirt underneath. He”s handsome but his eyes are dark and predatory. His hair is brushed back in a slick style that makes him look like an extra from The Godfather or some other mafia movie.
”Excuse me,” I say as I try to step around him, but two other men appear, effectively blocking me in. ”Can you please move? I need to get out of here.”
The man in front of me smirks, revealing straight white teeth that elongate into fangs as his lips peel back. I freeze in my tracks, realizing I”ve just bumped into a vampire. No, three vampires, and none of them seem friendly.
”You”re not going anywhere, Lola,” the first man says smoothly.
”What do you want?” I ask in a shaky voice as my brain struggles to process what”s happening. ”How do you know my name?”
The vampires continue to block my path, trapping me between them as pedestrians pass by without even noticing my predicament.
”Adrian sends his regards.”
My heart skips a beat at the mention of Adrian”s name. Dread creeps over me, and I take a step back, bumping into one of his accomplices as he steps behind me.
”Adrian? What does he want?” I manage to stammer, my voice quivering with fear.
The vampire in front of me, the apparent spokesperson for this ominous trio, smirks again. ”He wants you, Lola. And that little trinket you”ve got your eyes on in the museum.”
I glance nervously over my shoulder at the burning museum, then back at the vampires, trying to figure out how much they know. ”I don”t know what you”re talking about,” I lie unconvincingly. ”I”m not looking for anything in particular. I was just playing tourist.”
”Save your breath,” the vampire says. ”We know exactly what you”re doing here.”
My mind races as I try to come up with some way to escape this situation unscathed, but all I can think to do is stall.
”Why does Adrian want me?” I demand, attempting to sound braver than I feel. The vampires exchange knowing glances, and the spokesman steps closer, invading my personal space. He leans in as if to whisper something in my ear, and I cringe away, but he catches my arm, gripping it tightly to hold me in place.
”You know exactly what he wants,” he hisses in a low voice. ”And he”s not a patient man, so let”s go.”
Panic surges through me, and I attempt to dart to the side to wedge in a small opening between their bodies, but the vampires move with unnatural speed, blocking me and surrounding me once more.
”I”m not going anywhere with you,” I say stubbornly, glaring at them with as much defiance as I can muster.
The spokesman reaches out, gently tracing a finger along the edge of my jaw, and I shudder. ”Now, now, Lola. No need to make this difficult. Adrian insisted we bring you to him unharmed, but if you resist, we might have to get a little rough,” he murmurs. ”Something about needing your cooperation for the spell to work.”
The narrow alleyways between the buildings beckon as potential escape routes, but the vampires anticipate my every move. I glance frantically from side to side, looking for any opening to dart through. The undead monster in front of me chuckles darkly at my efforts and tightens his grip on my arm. ”Don”t waste your time,” he warns.
”Look, Drake knows where I am, and he”s going to come looking for me. Let me go, and we can all forget this ever happened,” I plead, desperation coloring my voice.
The trio lets out a hearty laugh at my words. It”s apparent that negotiation isn”t on their agenda.
”Drake? That little pup? Adrian is twice the vampire he is,” he scoffs. ”You really think he”ll come swooping in to save you? We”ve had eyes on him all day. He”s nowhere near here.”
”Please,” I try again. ”Please, just let me go.”
”Sorry, sweetheart, but we have our orders. Now, be a good girl and come with us,” he whispers, the threat implicit in his tone.
Before I can react, he grabs my arm with surprising force, his cold fingers sending a jolt of pain through me. I struggle against his grip, but it”s useless. His accomplices seize my other arm and force me into a nearby alleyway.
”Let me go!” I cry out, but my plea is drowned out by the chaos of the surrounding crowd. They ignore my protests as they drag me further into the shadows, away from prying eyes.
”Get your hands off me,” I protest again, struggling against them, but their combined strength is too much for me to overpower.
”Relax,” one of the vampires coos as if trying to soothe me. ”You”re making this harder than it needs to be.”
Terror floods my veins as they haul me deeper into the alleyway, away from the safety of the crowds and into the darkness. A feeling of helplessness overwhelms me, and I know there”s nothing I can do to stop them from taking me wherever they please. I”m completely at their mercy, and whatever Adrian has planned for me is surely not pleasant. I can only hope that someone, somewhere, will intervene and rescue me from this nightmare.
I should”ve listened to Drake. I should”ve stayed in the hotel room. Why didn”t I just listen?
I kick and thrash out with my feet, but they”re immovable. ”Help!” I shout at the top of my lungs, but my pleas are ignored. No one can hear me now.