Almost Midnight (33 page)

She heard her sister scrambling around. Tabitha's sigh echoed in the sheer darkness. “Someone has strengthened the black spell. Do you smell that?”

“Yeah, but I still think we succeeded at this one.” Miranda's words seemed to be swallowed up by the murkiness.

“It probably wasn't a flashlight,” Tabitha whined.

Miranda knew she was being an optimist, but sometimes that's all one had. “You don't know that. Keep looking.”

“Hey,” Tabitha said. “I think … You were right!”

A circular light beamed on the ceiling.

“We did it.” The sensation of power filled Miranda's chest, even when she knew this might be all they got.

Tabitha shifted the light. Miranda followed the beam. “There are tunnels,” her sister said. “Maybe there's a way out.”

“Yeah,” Miranda said, and continued to watch as her sister slowly shifted the light. The circular beam stopped on a young man—dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. He lay so still that Miranda worried he was dead. That the intake of air they'd heard had been his last.

Finally, his chest shifted ever so slightly. “He's alive,” Miranda said.

Both Miranda and Tabitha stood up.

“I know.” Tabitha backed away. Miranda edged closer. With each step, the smell of blood got stronger. And this time, it wasn't her blood.

“Shine it on his face,” Miranda said, and when she took another step, the orb of light slipped up above the neck of their fellow prisoner. She squinted at the individual—at his forehead—something all supernaturals did to identity another species.

The pattern finally emerged.

“He's vampire.” Tabitha caught Miranda by the arm and tugged her backward. “He's probably one of them. Don't get close to him. He … he might attack.”

“If he was one of them, why would they have locked him up?” Miranda tugged the flashlight from Tabitha's hand and shifted it down his torso. There on his light blue shirt was a big bloodstain. His shirt looked ripped. Had he been stabbed or was he shot?

“Look, he's been hurt,” Miranda said and looked back at her sister. “He's not one of them.”

“That doesn't mean he's nice. Even if he's not one of them, he's probably hungry and if he wakes up … he … he'll want blood. I say let's take our light, follow the tunnel, and get as far from him as possible. Maybe we can even find our way out.” She took the flashlight back and pointed in the opposite direction.

Miranda's gaze stayed on the dark spot where the nearly dead vampire lay. With the beam of light, even not pointed at him, she could still see the shape. She heard him moan again, a little louder, as if he was somehow aware of the light.

“Don't get too close. He'll smell your blood,” Tabitha bit out. “And you know what he'll do.”

Tabitha's warning had merit. Miranda had heard horror stories of others killed trying to help stray and injured vampires. And yet what if that was Della, or Burnett, or any one of the vampires at Shadow Falls? What if someone let them die?

“Come on, there's a pathway over here,” her half-sister said and gave her another tug. “Let's get away from him before he wakes up and kills us both.” Tabitha took her hand and squeezed. “Maybe the black curse isn't as strong deeper into the tunnel.”

“No.” Miranda dropped her sister's hand. “We can't just leave him to die. We have to help him.”

“Are you freaking nuts?” Tabitha asked. “The only way to help him is to give him blood.”

“I know,” Miranda said.

“Well, we kind of need ours!” she spit out.

“We don't need all of it.” Miranda remembered how in the beginning the idea of donating blood to the vampire bank had repulsed her. Then Kylie had agreed to do it and Miranda went along.

Funny how all her time at Shadow Falls had almost made her forget how prejudiced the outside world could be. “My friend Kylie says that people donate blood to blood banks all the time. Giving it to vampires is the same thing.”

“That's different.” Tabitha caught her by the arm. “Look, I know you got that vampire girlfriend, and you live at that school where everyone gets along, but this is the real world. You don't know if he's rogue and—”

“He doesn't deserve to die.”

Tabitha put the light under her chin, creating some eerie shadows on her face and she glared at Miranda. “I can't believe you. He's a vampire.”

Miranda glared right back. “I can't believe my sister is a bigot.”

“I'm not!” Tabitha snapped and sounded genuinely offended. “I don't dislike vampires. But if it's my life or his, or my half-sister's, well, I choose us. He could be rogue, and if you give him a little blood, he might … just want more.”

“Look, I know it might be dangerous, but I can't just let him die.”

“You didn't do that to him. You aren't responsible.”

“I am if I leave without trying to help. You can leave if you want. And as soon as he's better, we'll try to find you.”

Tabitha shook her head. “You are gonna die. He's going to be bloodthirsty and you are going to get all the blood sucked out of you. Then he'll probably rip you open and eat your liver. I hear they like livers.”

“No,” Miranda said, but her stomach quivered.

“No, you're not going to die or no, they don't like livers?”

“No, I'm not going to die,” Miranda said, thinking she recalled Della mentioning livers being a prime body part. Then, feeling her pulse pumping to the tune of fear, she watched Tabitha stomp off. With the flashlight.

Hey, that was her flashlight, too, Miranda thought.

She stood there, part of her screaming to run after her sister—but she couldn't. She wouldn't be able to live with herself knowing she'd let someone die. Someone who could be as good as Burnett, or Della.

In only seconds, the shadows seemed to move closer and complete darkness fell on her. Her heart thumped against her breastbone. She could hear Tabitha's footfalls moving away. Growing quieter, until she couldn't hear anything. Alone.

The sound of someone taking a deep breath echoed and seemed to argue with her last thought. Okay, not alone.

Stiffening her backbone, she turned back to where she knew the injured vampire lay. “Please don't prove her right. I kind of like my liver.”

 

Chapter Seventeen

Miranda took one step. Then the darkness seemingly attacking her from all angles started to fade. She swung around and saw the orb of light moving back toward her.

Tabitha? The light came closer. Her footsteps sounded. Then her shape became visual. She kept walking and didn't stop until they stood face-to-face.

“You lied,” Miranda said, emotion in her throat.

“About what?” Tabitha asked, a frown on her lips.

“At the apartment when I told you I'd saved your life. You said you wouldn't save mine.”

“I haven't saved you,” she said. “We're still stuck down here, possibly with a rogue vampire, and a black curse hanging over our heads.”

Miranda smiled. “Yeah, but you came back. That means—”

“Maybe I just didn't want to be alone.”

Miranda heard the lie in her sister's voice. “That or you actually care a little bit.”

“Fine,” Tabitha said. “I care. But if I die, or you die, I'm never going to forgive you for this.”

“We're not going to die,” Miranda said, and with the warm fuzzy feeling spilling from her heart, she suddenly believed it.

Her sister shined the flashlight at the vampire, then took a deep breath and met Miranda's eyes. “I'm really not a bigot. I can't stand it when people judge other people. It's just … vampires scare me a little.”

“I know,” Miranda said. “They used to scare me, too. But believe me, I couldn't have a better friend than Della.” She reached over and touched Tabitha's arm. “Thank you. For coming back.”

Tabitha nodded. “So how do we do it?”

“I've got a plan.” Miranda rubbed her injured hand and then squeezed it to see if she could get it to bleed again. She didn't say it was a good plan. Would it work? She didn't really know. The only way she'd donated blood was with a needle and a bag. “When they threw me in here I cut my palm a little. I think if I … if I just put my hand there, he'll smell blood and … bite.”

Tabitha's eyes went wide with panic. “If he hurts you or won't stop, I'll … I'll hit him with the flashlight. Hard. Really hard.”

She almost told Tabitha if he wouldn't stop, to run like hell. Oh God, was she putting Tabitha's life on the line to do something … stupid? Another moan left the vampire's lips. No, Miranda's heart told her they were doing the right thing. She had to believe it.

Besides, if the black curse didn't lift, they could really use another person to help out—someone strong like a vampire.

She moved closer to the crumpled figure. “Shine the light on my hand.” Looking at her hand, she pushed on the fleshy part of the palm until she saw some blood ooze out. Then she dropped on her knees. She tasted fear on her tongue, but put her hand close to the vampire's mouth.

His eyes popped open. He reached up, grabbed her arm, and latched onto her wrist where her veins were the closest.

“Ouch,” Miranda said as she felt his teeth sink into skin.

“Should I hit him?” Tabitha screamed. “Should I hit him?”

“No!” Miranda stared at the vamp as he drank from her. “Look, buddy, this is just a snack, not a feast, okay? Just a taste until you can heal yourself, got it?”

“Should I hit him?” Tabitha repeated. “Should I hit him now?”

Miranda shook her head. “I'll give him a little more.”

She counted to ten, started feeling a tad weak, and panicked. She took a deep breath and then said, “Okay, enough.” She tried to pull away but his fingers latched around her arm with a death grip.

“Hey!” Tabitha leaned over and shined the light right into the vamp's eyes. “She said enough. Let go of her or I swear I'll put a lump on this side of your head the same size as the one you've got right here.” She tapped his forehead with the flashlight.

The vamp blinked, his eyes tightened and grew even brighter, but his hold on her arm suddenly lightened. Slowly, he pulled his teeth out.

Miranda drew her arm back then plopped her butt on the ground. The vamp dropped his head back and closed his eyes.

“Who are you?” he asked in a French accent.

Tabitha shined the light right in his eyes, but he kept them closed. “We are badass witches and if you try anything funky, we'll put some voodoo on your ass and you won't know what hit you.”

He lifted his head again, opened one eye, and looked at Tabitha. “You don't look badass.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Miranda said, and when she felt a damp warm stream of blood running down her wrist, she clamped her hand over the bite to stop the bleeding. “Why don't you tell us who you are?”

He didn't open his eyes, but he answered. “I am Anthony. Anthony Bastin.”

After a few seconds of silence, he opened his eyes and stared at Miranda. “Is it not polite to offer your name when you are given one?”

“Hey, bucko,” Tabitha snapped. “We just saved your life, so how about a little respect.”

His gaze cut to Tabitha. “You are right, I apologize.” He licked his lips and stared at them for a second. “You two are part of the competition. The ones for high priestess, right?”

“How do you know about that?” Miranda asked.

“I work at the auditorium where the competition was being held. Two nights ago, I caught the rogues sneaking around.” His gaze went back to Tabitha. “They overpowered me … and brought me here. Of course, it was five to one. Or the outcome would have been different.”

“Right,” Tabitha said and rolled her eyes.

The vamp stared at her.

“Do you think you can walk?” Miranda asked. “I think we should see if this tunnel leads anywhere.”

He tried to sit up, grunted, and then slumped back. “Give me a few more minutes. The blood will help me heal, but it can take time.”

“Okay, but not too much,” Miranda said and looked up at the heavy metal door that led outside. Outside where their captors were.

“Just a couple of minutes,” he said.

In seconds, the vampire's breathing slowed. “I think he's asleep,” Tabitha whispered and shifted the light a little closer to see Anthony's face.

Miranda looked at him. His firm jaw and chiseled features hinted at his French heritage. “We'll give him five minutes and then we have to move, even if we have to carry him.”

Tabitha eased the orb of light down the masculine torso, highlighting a toned chest and a flat stomach. “You know, he'd be kind of cute if he wasn't so dirty.”

“Yeah,” Miranda admitted, not that she was the tiniest bit interested. She'd always been drawn more to blonds. Her mind went to Perry. Then it twisted to her younger years and her crush on Shawn.

“Do you think he needs more blood?” Tabitha asked.

“He might,” Miranda said. “I guess I could give him a little more.”

“You've already given him some. If he needs more, I'll … do it.”

Miranda smiled. “That's generous of you. Are you feeling guilty, or do you think he's that good-looking?”

Tabitha chuckled. “He is cute. But you shouldn't talk. You're in love with a shape-shifter. Everyone knows that shape-shifters are … difficult.”

Miranda cut her eyes to Tabitha. “How do you know about that?”

“I heard rumors,” she said. “And I heard you two talking last night.”

“Not all shape-shifters are bad any more than all vampires,” Miranda said. “Or witches for that matter. Plus, it's rude to eavesdrop.”

Tabitha didn't answer for a few minutes, then she said, “I was curious.” She got quiet again. “Are you gonna take him back, or go with the hot FRU agent?”