find Nathanial soon, I promise! Please don’t do that.”
The demon considered her, a little smile still hovering over his lips. “I do so enjoy begging. It would be even more fun if you were covered in blood when you were doing it—but there’s some here, isn’t there?”
Raum yanked her head to the side with a fistful of hair, sniffing deeply near her neck.
“You stink like vampire. Is this how you repay my generosity? I offer you and your family a reprieve, but you squander your time feeding vampires instead of finding Nathanial. I’m beginning to question your usefulness.”
Denise blinked back tears from the twisting grip Raum had on her. She’d probably be missing a hunk of her hair when he let go.
“What do you think the vampire wanted in exchange for his help?” she lied, thinking fast. “We’re close. We have a good lead and we’re closing in on Nathanial. I just need a little more time.”
Raum let go of her. As she’d anticipated, he had several strands of her hair still wound around his fingers.
“An extension,” he mused. “And you want me not to kill any of your family during this extension, I suppose?”
“That’s right. Please,” she added, hatred burning inside her at his delight over her anguish.
“But I have to punish you for your slowness,” Raum said, as though that were the only logical conclusion. “Still, I’m in a good mood, so I’ll give you a choice. Pick which family member you want to die. It can be anyone, even a second or third cousin. Or I’ll increase the effect in those brands.”
Denise glanced down at her wrists. She couldn’t see the marks, but they seemed to throb in Raum’s presence. She wanted nothing more than to get his foul stamp off her, not amplify it, but what he’d offered her was no choice at all.
Denise took her gloves off and then slid her hands into Raum’s grip. “Go ahead.”
He grinned. “Are you certain? This will hurt.”
She braced herself even as she met his gaze. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Raum’s hands closed over her wrists. Denise promised herself she wouldn’t scream, but once he started, it was impossible not to.
Spade heard the voices as if from a long way off.
“…body of a white male, late twenties to early thirties, no identification,” a female intoned. “Preliminary cause of death appears to be a stab wound. The knife is still embedded in the victim’s throat…”
Bollocks , Spade thought, listening to the multiple heartbeats and the shambling of feet around him. He must have passed out and been taken for a corpse. From the sounds of it, there were too many witnesses for him to get up, thank them for their time, and get the hell away, either.
Now that he was conscious, the silver burned in his neck and his head banged with a truly awful clamoring. The pain from the silver he expected; the headache was a mystery. It’s a hangover , he realized in amazement, noting how sluggish and ill the rest of him felt as well. Thought I’d experienced the last of those when I was human.
But at least his mind was clear, painful as the banging in his head might be. Denise’s blood had caused him to hallucinate for who knew how long, until it occurred to him that he had to purge himself of the poison in him. That’s when he’d taken a knife to his throat, wedging the blade in and willing his blood to flow out of the wound. Only when he’d drained himself to a trickle had he felt the worst of the hallucinations leave him, but apparently that was also when he passed out.
And now he was being photographed, printed, and processed as a murder victim. Why couldn’t the citizens of New York go back to not caring when they stumbled across a body? Everyone had to be such a Good Samaritan nowadays.
It took another hour of him lying there, waiting for the coppers to finish with him, until Spade was zipped inside a body bag and wheeled into an ambulance. He waited until the ambulance was well away
The demon considered her, a little smile still hovering over his lips. “I do so enjoy begging. It would be even more fun if you were covered in blood when you were doing it—but there’s some here, isn’t there?”
Raum yanked her head to the side with a fistful of hair, sniffing deeply near her neck.
“You stink like vampire. Is this how you repay my generosity? I offer you and your family a reprieve, but you squander your time feeding vampires instead of finding Nathanial. I’m beginning to question your usefulness.”
Denise blinked back tears from the twisting grip Raum had on her. She’d probably be missing a hunk of her hair when he let go.
“What do you think the vampire wanted in exchange for his help?” she lied, thinking fast. “We’re close. We have a good lead and we’re closing in on Nathanial. I just need a little more time.”
Raum let go of her. As she’d anticipated, he had several strands of her hair still wound around his fingers.
“An extension,” he mused. “And you want me not to kill any of your family during this extension, I suppose?”
“That’s right. Please,” she added, hatred burning inside her at his delight over her anguish.
“But I have to punish you for your slowness,” Raum said, as though that were the only logical conclusion. “Still, I’m in a good mood, so I’ll give you a choice. Pick which family member you want to die. It can be anyone, even a second or third cousin. Or I’ll increase the effect in those brands.”
Denise glanced down at her wrists. She couldn’t see the marks, but they seemed to throb in Raum’s presence. She wanted nothing more than to get his foul stamp off her, not amplify it, but what he’d offered her was no choice at all.
Denise took her gloves off and then slid her hands into Raum’s grip. “Go ahead.”
He grinned. “Are you certain? This will hurt.”
She braced herself even as she met his gaze. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Raum’s hands closed over her wrists. Denise promised herself she wouldn’t scream, but once he started, it was impossible not to.
Spade heard the voices as if from a long way off.
“…body of a white male, late twenties to early thirties, no identification,” a female intoned. “Preliminary cause of death appears to be a stab wound. The knife is still embedded in the victim’s throat…”
Bollocks , Spade thought, listening to the multiple heartbeats and the shambling of feet around him. He must have passed out and been taken for a corpse. From the sounds of it, there were too many witnesses for him to get up, thank them for their time, and get the hell away, either.
Now that he was conscious, the silver burned in his neck and his head banged with a truly awful clamoring. The pain from the silver he expected; the headache was a mystery. It’s a hangover , he realized in amazement, noting how sluggish and ill the rest of him felt as well. Thought I’d experienced the last of those when I was human.
But at least his mind was clear, painful as the banging in his head might be. Denise’s blood had caused him to hallucinate for who knew how long, until it occurred to him that he had to purge himself of the poison in him. That’s when he’d taken a knife to his throat, wedging the blade in and willing his blood to flow out of the wound. Only when he’d drained himself to a trickle had he felt the worst of the hallucinations leave him, but apparently that was also when he passed out.
And now he was being photographed, printed, and processed as a murder victim. Why couldn’t the citizens of New York go back to not caring when they stumbled across a body? Everyone had to be such a Good Samaritan nowadays.
It took another hour of him lying there, waiting for the coppers to finish with him, until Spade was zipped inside a body bag and wheeled into an ambulance. He waited until the ambulance was well away
Similar Books
