Rose of Jericho (Lilith Adams Series Book 2) (40 page)

“You’re taking orders from that blood-sucking bitch now?” The siren’s words snapped rebelliously through the air.

Luminita stepped away from Cohen, dropping the scalpel on the table and dragging an arm across her forehead, sopping up the glistening beads of sweat. Her petite heels clicked against the tile floor as she walked calmly over to the siren and snatched the book out of her hands.

While Peisinoe stared at Luminita with wide innocent eyes, the Romanian pulled herself up to her full five feet and viciously grabbed the siren’s throat. Her delicate fingers tightened as she pulled her down to eye level. Lilith couldn’t hear the whispered threat, but judging by the tight muscles in Peisinoe’s face it was effective. What kind of threat could possibly keep the siren in check when one little melody could probably kill everyone in the room?

Luminita shoved Peisinoe with surprising force and stalked back toward Cohen’s table, leaving the siren to rub at her red neck with a reproachful look. “Nothing but bickering children. I would hate to think you were no longer being useful.”

Peisinoe didn’t so much as mumble a retort under her breath. She simply followed orders, her heavy heels clacking against the tiled floor. The door creaked eerily again and a faint light lit the hallway. Probably just some weak emergency lights.

“It looks like the power is out in the whole building. I can’t see a thing, Luminita.” She set one foot out of the door and leaned around it before turning back to Luminita. “The guards are…” A couple loud pops echoed into the room from the door, cutting her off.

Peisinoe’s pouty little face was filled with confusion as she took one half-step backwards, her hand on her shoulder. When she pulled it away, Lilith could see the crimson smear across her white palm. The second of disbelief hung in the air like a slow motion scene until Peisinoe’s mouth opened. She released a shriek so powerful that Lilith’s head felt like it was splitting open.

The scalpel clinked against the tile floor an instant before Luminita’s small frame hit it. She covered her ears as the scream grew even louder, curling into a fetal position. Lilith would have liked to enjoy that sight, but the sound of Peisinoe’s voice pierced right through her skull.

Lilith bucked violently against her restraints. The pain. It was too much. Her vision began to swim, the bile flooding her throat. She just barely managed to keep it down, coughing and choking on the acid. It felt like red hot knives were slicing her brain to pieces. She couldn’t even feel the blood trickling down her ear lobes. Every inch, every cell was consumed in wave after wave of torturous agony.

Lilith tilted her head, covering one ear with her shoulder, and saw Cohen staring stoically at the ceiling like one of Isadora’s zombies. She couldn’t tell if he was just under Peisinoe’s influence or if he was dead. At least he had a moment of peace either way.

The banshee screech went an octave higher and the air seemed to pulsate with the brutal force. It hit Lilith like a 30-foot tall wave of acid eating her alive. She felt an excruciating pop and then the world spun into darkness.

Chapter 33

A
shrill ringing tore viciously through every cell in Lilith’s brain. It was so deafening that she couldn’t hear her own screams as agony twisted her stomach into knots. The leather straps kept her from curling into a fetal position and her only reward was a towering wave of dizziness and nausea that almost dragged her into unconsciousness again.

Lilith forced herself to lie perfectly still and focus on deep breaths as the sharp buzzing continued to reverberate along every nerve. After a few moments the dizziness began to recede and she very slowly creaked one eye open, then the other. Weak candlelight flickered over the room as it spun viciously and suddenly Lilith had to fight the bile rising in her stomach. Movement caught her eye just as she was about to squeeze them shut again.

Lilith tried desperately to focus her eyes on the dark form sprawled across the floor. She watched helplessly as Luminita’s petite form crawled through the doorway, Duncan’s book clutched in her hand. Then world spun again, her split-second reprieve over, as the ringing in her ears reached a fevered pitch. She felt like she was falling, drowning in the depths unable to tell which way was up. Finally the darkness won, dragging her back into oblivion.

A grumbling sound croaked in the air with all the comfort of a horror movie, startling her out of incoherent dreams. She had no idea how long she’d been out this time. It could have been two minutes or two hours for all she knew.

The gargled sound came again. It almost sounded like a voice, but it was too distorted to understand. It was like someone she was deep underwater straining to hear the outside world. She very slowly turned her head toward the voice, opening one eye as if against her will, dread balling up in her dry throat. Every time she opened her eyes in this place she was greeted by something horrific. She certainly didn’t expect that to change now.

She swung her eyes to the door, which was still cracked open, but before she could see make out anything else the room began to spiral and whirl wildly like she was on some bad acid trip. All she knew was the doorway was empty. Luminita was gone.

She quickly squeezed her eyes shut again, wincing from the searing hot pain still rattling around in her brain as the shrill buzzing persisted. Peisinoe’s voice always felt like a chainsaw to the brain, but this…this was different. Especially since she was relatively positive the woman wasn’t even in the room. This felt more like the damage caused by standing too close to an explosion.

She tried to open her eyes again, this time the room was darker. Crap. The candles. They had to be guttering out in their own wax. Don’t panic. She just kept whispering it to herself over and over.

A garbled voice shouted right beside her, nearly stopping her heart. Yes, it was definitely a voice but it was just a muted mess of sounds, completely formless.

Lilith blinked a few times, still trying to focus her eyes in the flickering light, teetering on the edge of semi-consciousness yet again. It was a continuous struggle not to slip into the comforting arms of oblivion. She clenched her fists, the fingernails biting into her palms, drawing blood. The crisp pain from the crescent shaped wounds gave her clarity, a focus. It helped, but there was nothing there. Whatever shouted in her ear was gone, if it was ever there in the first place. Maybe her mind was just playing tricks.

A sudden tug at her ankle strap sent a jolt straight to her heart as her eyes snapped open. Between the weak light and the whirling room, she could only make out a black silhouette at the foot of the table. She tried to buck and struggle, but the straps didn’t give much leeway.

Lilith kept trying regardless, fighting through the dizziness. No damn way she was letting one of those crazy bitches drag her off. She’d rather die.

A voice sounded over her, but she could barely hear it the garbled mess of vowels. Then her right ankle was free, then her right wrist. She was working without two of her senses, but if she could just lie still, concentrate, she could attack when the moment was right. Assuming she didn’t pass out again first.

The restraint popped off her wrist and she turned it slowly, flexing, testing it. The strap across her upper arm tugged, then her chest, and Lilith waited patiently. If they leaned over to undo the left side, then she could make her move. With her good hand free she could remove the rest of the restraints on her own. Assuming her muscles would cooperate. At least she had one weapon built in.

Lilith closed her eyes and focused intently. Finally, her cartilage fangs clicked down from the roof of her mouth to extend past her incisors just as she felt the weight of a body leaning over her. This was it. She had to strike now while she had an element of surprise. She was inches from stabbing her fangs into the bastard’s throat when a familiar scent stopped her cold.

She was shocked at first, paralyzed as she tried to place the smell. Her pounding, ravaged brain couldn’t connect the dots. It slowly conjured images of warmth, safety, home. Then it clicked and Lilith was overwhelmed with tears, her fangs automatically folding back.

The rumbling of what was supposed to be words sounded again, louder this time, but no less garbled. “I can’t hear anything. Peisinoe...the siren….” She thought she said the words out loud but couldn’t really tell.

The tugging immediately stopped with her left wrist, thigh and ankle still secured. She waited for what seemed like forever as her heart raced with the different scenarios buzzing around her brain. She opened her eyes, trying to fight back the waves of dizzy nausea, but she couldn’t get her eyes to focus.

Abruptly, Lilith felt something wet against her lips and jerked back, her head slamming into the metal table. Fireworks exploded behind her eyes as a shock of excruciating pain seared through every nerve ending in her already traumatized brain. After everything that had happened in the last two weeks, she would consider it a damn miracle if she didn’t have permanent brain damage.

A hand gently smoothed through her auburn hair and the liquid pressed against her lips again. This time her body cried out in agonizing thirst and she opened her dry mouth, letting the fluid roll over her tongue. TO her complete shock, strong coppery notes pinged off her taste buds in an explosion of flavor. It was like drinking electricity or pure energy. She’d never tasted anything so incredible before… no. She had tasted it
once
before. Cohen’s blood.

The world started to come into clearer focus as if a thick fog was lifting. The room was a little brighter and more importantly, not spinning like some hellish merry-go-round. The sounds and voices were starting to become clearer like she was finally moving toward the surface of the water. Unfortunately, the thick smell of blood, urine and feces filled her sensitive nostrils, coating the back of the throat and making her gag. That was one sense she’d rather not have heightened.

At least the shrill ringing was receding along with the violent pounding in her head. Even the break in her left arm and her raw, irritated wrists were starting to heal. If only her blood could do that for Cohen. He was in far worse shape and part of her felt guilty for taking this bit of comfort from him.

A Cajun-flecked voice rumbled by her ear and she was barely able to make out the words, but they flooded her with an overwhelming sense of relief. “Did you miss me,
Cherie
?”

Lilith couldn’t even speak at first, her throat swollen with joyful tears. She swallowed hard as Chance quickly undid the rest of the restraints. Her shaking hands fumbled frantically for the straps, trying to help and failing miserably. She didn’t care how he found her, what mattered was that he was here and breathing.

As soon as Chance tossed off the final strap, she flung both arms around him, ignoring the stab of pain in her left arm. There was no nightmare-induced hesitation, no fear, no apprehension. Lilith clung desperately to him as if he might just evaporate at any moment, a figment of her traumatized imagination.

Chance’s warm arms circled suddenly around her, pulling her tight against him as his lips crashed against hers in an explosion of emotions. The hungry passion they both poured into that kiss burned right through her core like a streak of lightning. Abruptly, Chance broke the kiss and hugged her cheek against his chest as if bolstering his self-control. She could hear his heart racing in his chest like a rabbit on amphetamines. He was really here. He was really alive.

“It’ll be ok,
Cher
.” He whispered the words against her hair, almost as if he was trying to convince himself that it was true. His lips brushed feather-light against her forehead before he slowly pulled her back to see her eyes. She could feel the tension, fear, and relief humming along his skin like an oil slick over water.

His warm hands cupped her face gently, one thumb tenderly stroking her cheek. Lilith leaned into his hands with tears still in her eyes. “Are you okay?” She tried to answer him but the words were caught in her throat, so she settled for a nod.

Chance pulled her against him again, his warm arms encircling her as he placed a kiss on top of her head. For a brief moment she just clung to him, letting his strength flood over her.

“We don’t have much time. Can you walk?” As soon as he said the words, their private bubble of serenity burst. The real world roared to life and she could hear the pops and rumbles of gunfire close by. There were a lot of them. Damn. Who else was here with Chance? Had he brought back-up or was there some kind of mutiny going on?

She merely nodded her reply again, still not quite trusting her voice. Chance pulled away, tugged off his T-shirt pressed it into her hands. “Put this on.” Lilith couldn’t help but give his lean physique a once over as she gratefully slipped the T-shirt on. Can’t fight evil in your underwear. She’d heard that somewhere once. “And you’ll need this.”

He pushed the cold handle of a 9mm with tac-light fixed to the barrel into her hand and gave it a gentle pat. Then his warm hazel eyes locked on her again. “I’m going to help Timothy and then will get out of here, ok?”

At first Lilith nodded again, lost in the blanket of hope Chance was wrapping around her, but then reality hit again and she found her voice. “We should get Cohen first. He’s in really bad shape and…”

Chance’s face changed instantly into something barely recognizable in the candlelight. “No.” That one word sounded cold and resolute, but Lilith could feel the roiling anger blazing over his skin. Immediately, he turned away toward Timothy as she just stared at his back. It felt like she was suddenly staring into the cold eyes of a stranger and it left an uncomfortable lump in the pit of her stomach.

“Chance, you have to listen…” Every muscle in his back tensed, frozen in place and for a moment she thought he was going to turn around and scream at her but he didn’t move. “Cohen isn’t…” Chance jabbed a finger into the air, his face turning toward the door.

Lilith’s heart started to pick up its pace as she slowly followed his eye line but all she saw was the weak light from the half-opened door. She strained to hear something, anything that might have put Chance on the alert, but there was nothing. Very carefully, she slid one hip off the table, her bare foot reaching for the tile.

As soon as she put weight on it, pins and needles ravaged her legs, forcing her to bite down on a whimper. She turned, supporting as much weight as she could with her arms and gingerly lowered her other foot to the ground. The prickling numbness was almost unbearable. The coppery notes of blood tingled over her tongue as she bit down on her lip to keep from crying out.

Lilith’s eyes flickered to the doorway nervously. If someone burst in spraying the room with bullets right now she’d be a goner. There was no way she could force her muscles to move yet, but the doorway was still empty. She watched Chance as her crept silently forward, heading for the wall, his gun held loosely at his side. So why was Chance in full body guard mode?

That’s when she felt it. A mixture of fear and exasperation that wasn’t coming from anyone in the room. There was someone in the hall, someone who wasn’t entirely sure they wanted to know what was in this room. He’d sensed whoever was outside the door.

Lilith lowered herself down to the floor as her brain snagged on one simple train of thought. The effects of Cohen’s blood had worn off on her at least twenty-four hours ago and they’d been dwindling before that. Somehow, Chance was not only still experiencing them, but they were stronger than hers and she’d just had Cohen’s blood. Maybe Luminita did know something about Chance after all, maybe she hadn’t been bluffing.

A hollow metal thwack pulled Lilith right out of her unraveling thoughts. She scrambled around the side of the table Chance gripping the door handle and the boot of someone lying on the ground just outside the door. Metal door to the face probably wasn’t what that guard expected.

Before she could even move, alarm rang down her nerves. She could sense several people now and they weren’t trying to be stealthy. The sound of boots stomping quickly against tile echoed from down the hall. In the blink of an eye, Chance slid out of the door and slammed it closed. Shit.

Obviously, he wanted her to stay put, but how was she supposed to do that? If he died out there… No. Chance was right. She could barely move through the cramping and spasms in her legs and her arms were shaking so bad she could barely grip the gun much less aim it. She’d just be one huge liability and, as he pointed out on the plane, he was better on his own in situations like this. Well, she sure as hell wasn’t going to sit there are do nothing. There were still other’s that needed her help.