Blood Judgment (Judgment Series) (52 page)

Nothing happened.

Heart hammering, chilled to the core in still-damp clothes, he walked across the parking area toward the door he’d been taken through for processing. He thought he was going to make it unscathed when someone shouted, “You! Hold it a minute.”

Julian’s stomach cranked into a knot. He faced the officer.

“Who? Me?” He forced his most innocent expression and kept his right hand beneath his jacket. His finger curled around the gun’s trigger.

“Yeah, you. I’ve never seen you before. You new?”

“Yeah, s’my first night at this gig. I was supposed to meet up with some dudes, but they didn’t show up.” He had no idea if the officers ever met up like that or if they left the building in teams. But it was the first thing that came to him.

“They probably came here and got a good laugh at your expense. Go through there.” He pointed in the direction of the door. “Go through the second door on the left. They’ll get ya taken care of.”

Julian sauntered forward with a jauntiness he didn’t feel and went through the entryway. To his left was a long row of doors. They had initially taken him into a room on the right.

He ducked his head around the doorway. Every cage was occupied. All the prisoners were male. Their fear was overpowering and he tried not to breathe the scent in, but it was impossible to avoid. He didn’t need their fear infecting him.

SARANNA LAY in a small cage.

The blood test had betrayed her pregnancy and, instead of being released, she was being held until an abortion could be performed.

They’d given her a drug that had calmed and slightly sedated her, despite knowing they were going to murder her baby.

She’d been left alone in a small room. An exam table with stirrups and restraints sat in the center. She placed her hands over her belly. She had to save her baby.

She lifted her head. Something had changed. A subtle shift. But she didn’t know what. Her hand shot to her throat. The bloodstones warmed against her skin and vibrated.

Julian.

He was close. He’d come for her.

Hope and fear tore at her. If they caught him, he would be held for execution, if not killed on the spot.

“Julian,” she whispered.

JULIAN STOPPED and growled.

She was near.

He inhaled, seeking her scent, drawing the stale air deep inside him. The combination of fear, pain, medicinal odors, humans, vampires, and the black scent of death was sickening in its strength.

But the scent of Saranna burned through him.

Following his senses, he tracked her. As he approached a door on his right, something that sounded like a whimpering dog stopped him cold. He stepped up to a small observation window and took in a sight that twisted his stomach into knots and sent glacier cold through him.

A young male huddled in the corner. Huge eyes staring. Empty. Blood and vomit crusted a garish tie-dye t-shirt that had ridden up over his pale stomach. Long self-inflicted claw marks cut deep trenches in the pale flesh. He jumped at every sound. Strings of saliva ran from his mouth. Growling, he bared immature fangs at some terror only he could detect.

Julian slammed his fist against the door in helpless rage. The youngster sprang off the floor. Growing like a mad animal, he threw himself at Julian and plowed into the steel door.

He looked into the juvenile’s glazed eyes. Nothing reflected back except terror and blankness.

The juvenile whipped his head to the side. Saliva flew in strings from his gaping mouth. He growled and hissed, nails scraping over the window. He slammed into the unyielding door several more times before collapsing in a whimpering heap on the floor.

Julian stumbled away, his stomach clenched around a block of ice at its center. What in God’s name had been done to the youngster?

But he knew. Didn’t he?

The juvenile was a test subject for their drugs. For whatever the sons of whores were hatching. If he opened the door, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind the juvenile would attack the first thing he came in contact with, human or vampire.

Julian retreated from the sick juvenile. He couldn’t help the pitiful creature.

He moved on. Saranna’s scent was stronger. On silent feet, he ran down the hall until he sensed her. He went to the closest room and touched the door. “Saranna?”

Nothing. No prize behind door number one.

Shit
.

He went to the next door and called for her.

“Julian, I’m here.”

Relief rushed over him. He pushed the door open and slid inside.

She huddled in a tiny cage. A desire to kill made his fangs ache with need. He sped to the cage. “Are you all right?”

“I’m okay now that you’re here.”

He grabbed the lock and pulled. It didn’t give. “Fucking hell!” He attacked it again.

The door opened behind him.

“The tech will be here later today…” The technician’s eyes bugged. “What the fuck?” Comprehension dawned. His clipboard clattered to the floor and he fled.

Julian dove and yanked him back into the room. Without a moment’s hesitation, he slammed the man into the wall so hard he crumpled and lay in a dazed heap.

Julian dropped down beside him. Snake fast, he grabbed the man’s hair and forced his head back, exposing his throat. The technician moaned.

“You better have the key to this lock, or so help me God, I’ll rip your heart out while it’s still beating.”

“Calm down.” The man’s voice shook. “I have the key. You can have your mate. Don’t kill me. Please.”

“Give it to me.” Julian yanked the technician’s hair.

He fished in his pocket and offered the key to Julian.

He snatched it with a snarl and the technician shrank back against the wall.

“Please, I gave you what you wanted. Please don’t kill me.” His gaze was glued on Julian’s brands.

“Why shouldn’t I? You were going to have my child butchered.”

“It’s just policy. I was only following orders.”

“What about the little male down the hall, the sick one? What the fuck has been done to him?”

“I don’t know.”

Julian growled and leaned closer, fangs bared.

“I swear. I swear. I don’t know. There’s a team that conduct experiments on some of the juvenile males. But none of us outside the team, and management, know what’s going on.” The man cowered before him. “They’re testing something that’s in development. That’s all I know.”

“Do you have a phone?”

The tech nodded.

“Give it to me.”

He dug in his lab coat and surrendered his phone.

Julian hit the button. “Access code?”

“Beagle.”

Julian logged in and tested the video. The phone’s battery was nearly shot, only one bar remained, but that should be enough. “When’s break time?”

“What?”

“When do you fuckers stop torturing vampires and go take a piss and swill some coffee?”

“Now. Been on break for five minutes.”

“Fifteen minute breaks?”

“Yes. Please don’t hurt me. I’ve done everything you wanted.”

Ten minutes. Not enough time, but he’d been beyond lucky to get that. He slashed with his nails, raking across the man’s throat so hard his head bashed against the wall. The technician sank down flat and lay unmoving. Blood ran from four lacerations.

Julian jabbed the key into the lock with trembling fingers. It turned with a soft
snick
. He yanked the door open.

Saranna launched into his arms, almost unbalancing him. He pried her loose. “Come on. We have to get out of here.”

He snatched the backpack and grabbed her hand, pulling her to the door. She stumbled.

“Come on,” he said.

“Sorry. They gave me something and I’m kind of loopy.”

Terrific
. “It’s okay, stick tight to me.” He opened the door a crack. No one lurked in the hallway, waiting to intercept them.

“I’m going to level this place on the way out.”

“But the others—”

“Trust me, Saranna. Come on, we have to hurry.”

She squeezed his hand. He led her into the hallway. “This way.” Keeping her close, he headed for the far end of the hall.

“We can’t get out this way, can we?”

“Trust me.”

He checked his watch. Not enough time. At the end of the hallway, he stopped and yanked open the backpack. He took the first bundle of explosives and set the timer for twenty minutes. He placed it in an oversized potted fern.

He snatched the pack and grabbed her hand. They ran back down the hallway. Her grip tightened, steadying herself. On a hunch, he tried the door opposite the holding room. Locked. He wrenched the knob with everything he had. The lock snapped. His hand cramped in protest. Ignoring the pain, he shoved the door open.

Paydirt.

A cabinet held an array of weapons. He shoved the door closed and went for the guns. The cabinet was likewise locked. He took the Beretta, reversed it, and smashed the glass.

Hurrying, he grabbed weapons and clips. He shoved a Sig Sauer in his waistband. He couldn’t have more than fifteen minutes left. “Can you carry some of these clips?”

“Yes.” She pulled up her shirt like an apron and stuffed in a dozen magazines.

When Julian was loaded down with artillery, he said, “Come on, we’re getting short on time.” Shorter than he wanted to think about. The bastards’ break time would end before the explosives went off. They hurried out and across the hall to the holding room.

A half-dozen males climbed to their feet. A few, so drugged they were unable to rise, stared, the others sat in resigned hopelessness.

Julian snatched the ring of keys off the peg. They were numbered and so were the cages. He breathed a silent prayer of thankfulness for that bit of luck.

Were any males chained to tables, waiting for their tormentors to return? He feared there were, but he didn’t have time to check each room. It made him sick, but there was nothing he could do except hope they died fast.

“I’m going to get you out,” he said. “I have a few weapons. You’ll have to help each other. Turn right. Straight down the hall is an elevator. Get in it, all of you together. Be ready to kill anyone on it. Be ready to kill anyone who tries to stop you.”

Working fast, he opened the locks. The males didn’t fuck around, once free, they grabbed guns and supported those who couldn’t stand on their own. When the last male was released, Julian checked his watch. “You have eleven minutes to get out before explosives go off.”

Amid hisses and gasps of fear, the males moved in a wave, almost running out of the room, dragging the incapacitated ones with them. One lone male stopped. “Do you need help?”

“I’ve got it covered. But thanks. Get going before they leave you.”

He ran after his companions.

Julian checked his watch and set the timer on the next bundle of explosives for nine minutes. He put the bomb on the floor, not bothering to hide it.

He slung the pack on his back and grabbed Saranna’s hand. Dragging her with him, he rocketed out of the room and raced back the way they had come.

“What are you doing? We need to get out of here!” Saranna pulled back hard.

The freed males stood fidgeting at the elevator, waiting for a car.

“Almost done. I have to do this.” He stopped, dropped the pack, and slipped the appropriated cell phone from his back pocket. “Wait here. You don’t want to see this.”

“What?”

“Wait for me. Trust me on this.” He didn’t give her time to argue. He went to the observation window at the steel door and clicked on the video. This was too important. And he had to do the right thing. The youngster sprang forward, growling, saliva flying from his mouth. He crashed into the door.

Saranna stifled a cry.

He kept recording as the juvenile attacked again, eyes vacant, mouth open, wanting to bite.

The video winked out as the last of the battery gave up and kicked it.

The juvenile fell to the floor in a whimpering heap and lifted his gaze to Julian’s in a moment that looked like near lucidity.
Shit
. Better he was raving and out of it for what Julian had to do next.

He stuffed the phone in his pocket and pulled the gun from his waistband. He hoped to God the place was as soundproofed as it was supposed to be. Not one sound from the garage came through. If they heard him, he and Saranna would be in the middle of a shit-storm. And they might not make it out.

Saranna gasped.

He aimed through the observation window.

The elevator dinged as the car arrived.

The youngster’s eyes bore into his. Unflinching. Jesus, was he aware?

Something like peace settled over the juvenile’s bruised features. He closed his eyes.

Oh God
. He knew. Julian swallowed hard and squeezed the trigger once, twice. Double tap, just as Ashton had taught him.

He stuffed the gun in his waistband and pulled the last explosive from the backpack. He checked his watch and set the timer for six minutes. He set it on the floor and grabbed Saranna. “Six minutes. Run.”

His heart thundered, his body spring tight. They had five minutes or less to get out before hell came calling.

They reached the door to the garage. “Stay as tight to me as you can. We’re probably going to be shot at. We’ll try to play it cool and walk to the van. But I don’t think we’ll make it without fighting our way out.”

He cursed himself for forgetting the Kevlar when he’d dressed. He would have given it to Saranna.

He wasn’t afraid of being shot. Unless it was a direct head or heart wound, it shouldn’t kill him. And the chances of hitting the head or heart of a running target were pretty slim. But if Saranna was hit in the stomach…

She nodded and grabbed his arm. “What if they have darts?”

That was what he feared more than anything. “I bet they don’t pack those around. They don’t expect vampires to be strolling around free. I’m hoping they get those when they’re ready to go out patrolling.” He sure as hell hoped that was the case because he was betting their lives on it.

“Ready?”

She nodded.

He opened the door.

A half dozen men milled around in the parking area, but no one paid them any attention.