The speaker wore the cleanest, newest, most fashionable pair of men's spats in the group. She lifted her face to look at him and her body went even colder. "You. "
It was the lean, dangerous-looking man who'd visited the library several weeks ago, asking for Miss Gardella. His eyes glowed faintly red, but he said nothing more; merely smiled at her, showing a hint of fang. Then he looked across at his companions and gave a slight nod.
Before she could prepare herself, Macey was dragged up onto the opposite seat by the other two men. Four hands, large and rough, imprisoned her as she tried to twist free. She bucked and twisted with all her might, using the chunky heels of her Mary Janes like billy clubs.
But, strong as she was with her vis bulla, she was no match for the two undead in the small confines. Already shocked and out of sorts, not to mention aching from the violent blow to the head, she was murky and slow. Her heart pounded and she couldn't catch her breath as the two held her immobile, sprawled between them on the seat. One wrapped an arm around her head, holding it at an awkward angle as he gripped her left wrist.
The other grabbed her right arm, then slid his free hand up over her thigh a the United States government wh5N3nd along her hips, dragging up her skirt and baring her garters and the bottom of her knickers. Macey twisted sharply before he got to the juncture of her thighs and managed to free one foot, whipping it into her captor's cheek. He grunted when the heel slammed hard, then scraped along his cheek. This caused him to loosen his grip, giving her the opportunity to jam an elbow into the groin of her other captor. He cried out and backhanded her so hard her ears rang, and she tumbled to the floor again. Her knee landed on something sharp and with a start, she realized it was the clasp of her pocketbook. How did my bag get in here?
But she didn't have time to wonder, or even try to open it and fumble for the stake. They forced her back up onto the seat, this time holding her arms and legs even more tightly, stretching her at full length across the car so she had no ability to coil and buck.
Her chest heaving, internal organs turned to ice, Macey realized she was in serious trouble. Her one hope was to get the stake out of her bag. Which meant she had to get back on the floor again.
"Who are you?" she demanded, looking at the presumed leader. If she distracted them, got them talking, maybe she could take them by surprise and free herself. "What do you want?"
"Hold her. " Something flashed in the leader's hand, and Macey stiffened when she discerned a knife blade.
She tried to wring herself free once more, but the four hands binding her were so strong and tight they might have been manacles.
The dagger gleamed in the bare streetlight that stole through the auto's window, and Macey realized the vehicle was no longer moving. They were going to kill her in this dark alley and dump her among the garbage. The man from the library reached for her, and with a sharp, swift movement, raked the knife straight down the front of her.
Her dress split and fresh air spilled over her torso as impersonal hands yanked the material away, uncovering her from breast to hip. Her head swam and her temple throbbed; something trickled from her eyes, and she realized it was a trail of tears.
Most of her breasts and belly were bare. Macey could see the growing stripe of blood all along her sternum to her stomach. And there, gleaming in the low light, was the silver vis bulla, settled in her navel.
"So you have taken the amulet. " He looked up at her, his eyes burning red-pink, his fangs bared. "You are the Gardella. " The tip of his tongue slipped out, caressing his thin lips. His eyes turned brighter.
"Did Capone send you?"
"Capone?" His eyes narrowed. "No, he did not. But I'm fascinated that you should think he might have done. "
"Who are you, then? You know who I am, but you're too cowardly to tell me who you are. " Macey forced every bit of strength and bravado into her voice she could. "And you need two goons plus yourself to capture me. What does that s savior who carries the deepest taintc somethingay about you?"
He laughed and reached toward her with the dagger again. She stiffened, preparing herself for pain. But he used the metal tip to flip the tiny silver cross as if it were a plaything. "Nicholas. Nicholas Iscariot at your service, Macey Gardella. "
She tried to steady her breathing and calm her heartbeat to keep her torso from shuddering with every pulse and every breath. Iscariot continued to play with the knife, tracing it over the white, trembling skin of her belly, drawing an occasional line of blood, then returning to slide the blade's tip into the circle of the vis and jiggle it almost gently.
She tensed, waiting for him to slice it free, knowing the moment he did that, she'd lose what little strength she had left. Then it would be all over.
And no one knows where I am.
Fighting despair, knowing her only chance was to get her hands on the stake, Macey glanced at the woman who sagged next to Nicholas in the corner of the auto. She hadn't moved, and although she was mostly in shadow, Macey was certain she wasn't going to be moving any time ever again. She swallowed hard, knowing that was to be her fate unless she did something. Very soon.
"Oh, did I not introduce you?" Nicholas followed her attention to the victimized woman. He smiled coldly, and the knife moved away as he pulled on the bloodstained arm next to him. Macey caught sight of ribbons of flesh where the chin, neck, and shoulders had once been, mingled with the torn fabric of her clothing, dark and congealed and smelling of iron. The woman had not merely been fed on; she'd been destroyed. Mutilated. Bile rose in the bac
k of her throat, and she swallowed hard.
Nicholas paused, his smile widening. "Ah, but wait. . . I believe you already are acquainted with this evening's entertainment, aren't you?"
The woman's head lolled forward, then back sharply as he yanked her upright, but not before Macey saw her face clearly in the low light.
She barely held back a scream. Chelle. It was Chelle.
"No," she breathed, hysteria rising from deep inside. She couldn't hold it back, it bubbled into her throat and threatened to explode in a horrified cry. "You didn't. . . you. . . " She choked and tears swam in her eyes. A band of horror wrapped around her chest, tightening, tightening, and she fought and twisted and bucked wildly against her captors.
"Now, now," Nicholas said, shoving Chelle back into the corner of the auto as if she were a rag doll. "Let's not overset ourselves. It could have been much worse, you know. " Then he cocked his head to one side and smiled. His gaze burned like a glowing ruby as it skimmed along her bared skin, which appeared silvery white in the unsteady light. Macey could hear the deep, guttural breathing of the vampire nearest her head, and he gripped her wrists even tighter. She had no feeling in her hands and felt her bones grinding against each other. the curtains sly
The scent of blood was heavy in the air, and now some of it was hers. Her heart pounded harder and deeper. Like a death knell.