Then I moved on to my surroundings. The pitch and roll beneath me had to be waves, which meant I was on a boat. Some of my captors were topside, from the voices, but I could tell someone was in the room with me.
So when I opened my eyes, my gaze landed unerringly on the black-haired vampire who'd shot up the hotel last night. The only surprise he showed was to blink.
"Didn't expect you to be up already," he drawled.
I glanced down at my gag and back at him, raising a brow.
He translated the silent message. "Do I need to tell you that screaming is useless?"
I rolled my eyes. What was this, amateur day? He smiled before rising from the opposite berth. "I thought not."
The vampire looked to be around my age, but I judged him to be less than a hundred in undead years. Really old vampires had a certain . . . weight in their stares, as if the passing centuries had left a tangible heaviness. My nameless captor didn't have that, and if I was lucky, neither did anyone else on this boat.
Young vampires were easier to kill.
"Water," I said once the gag was removed. Between that and the aftereffects from being drugged, my mouth was so dry that my tongue felt like a wadded-up sock.
The vampire disappeared and then returned with a can of Coke. Even better. The caffeine would help my headache, and watching him pop the soda can tab meant he hadn't doctored the contents, so I wasn't about to be drugged again.
I gulped at it when the vampire held it to my lips, which meant that I let out an extended burp when I stopped swallowing. If that burp happened to be aimed in my captor's face, well, it wasn't my fault. I was tied up.
"Charming," he said dryly.
"I lost my concern for social niceties when you shot my friend up with liquid silver," I replied in an even tone. "Speaking of, I want to see him."
The vampire's mouth quirked. "You're not in a position to make demands, but yes, he's still alive."
"You don't want to take me to him, fine," I said, thinking fast. "I assume you know I pick up psychic impressions from touch, so take these gloves off and let me touch you. Then I'll know if you're telling the truth."
The vampire chuckled, a brighter green swarming in the peat-moss color of his eyes. "Touch me? Don't you mean use that deadly electrical whip you can manifest to cut me in half?"
I stiffened. How did he know about that? Aside from Vlad, Maximus, and a handful of Vlad's guards, everyone who'd seen me wield that power was dead.
"That's why those rubber gloves are duct-taped onto you," he went on, unperturbed. "Just in case."
"What's your name again?" I asked, glad I sounded casual.
Those wide lips stretched further. "Call me Hannibal."
I smiled back. "Okay, Hannibal, what do you want me to do? Use my abilities to find one of your enemies? Tell you if someone is betraying you? Or read the past from an object?"
Hannibal laughed, and though it was more Dr. Evil caliber than chilling, it was still foreboding enough to creep me out.
"I don't want you to do anything, little bird. I'm merely the delivery boy. I don't even know who I'm delivering you to. All I know is you're worth three times as much alive, but if you try anything, dead is still a good payday for me."
Hannibal gave me a cheery wave before leaving the room. I said nothing, trying to think of a way out of my predicament. I was not going to let myself or Maximus be delivered to some unknown baddie. I'd find a way out of this if it killed me.
The fact that it might didn't deter me. After everything that had happened, I'd rather an early death while fighting than living with more regret than I already had.
Every ten minutes, one of my captors would check in on me. I'd seen four different faces in addition to Hannibal's, and from the paneled walls, queen-sized bed, curtained windows, and the size of the room, whoever hired them had deep pockets. If I weren't trussed up to the handicapped railing, I'd have enjoyed traveling in such a nice vessel.
The only window had the drapes drawn, but from the lack of light peeking out, it was still night. Guess Hannibal had been telling the truth about me not being out that long. Lake Michigan was the closest large body of water to the hotel and it was larger than some seas, so it might be a while until we arrived at our destination. Or we might arrive in minutes.
That's why I was concentrating, trying to channel all the currents in my body to my right hand. After several moments, the overload of electricity began to form into what felt like a spike. It pushed against my glove, seeking the smallest crack to free itself from its heavy rubberized cage.
No such crack existed, but my goal was to make one. Better to be killed trying to escape than meekly be delivered to whoever wanted me dead or alive. I should never have surrendered to Hannibal, but I hadn't anticipated him knowing the full extent of my abilities, and Maximus's life had been on the line.
He's probably dead already, my nasty inner voice whispered. You gave yourself up for nothing!
My teeth ground together. How I hated the dark part of me that continually foretold failure or futility. It had driven me to a suicide attempt at sixteen, but it would not defeat me now. Dismal odds or no dismal odds, I was getting out of this.
I refocused on my right hand, willing more currents into it. If that spike of energy became sharp and strong enough, it would punch through the rubber and I would get free. Come on, I silently urged it. Drill, baby, drill!
Was it my imagination, or did the layer of rubber around that energy spike feel like it suddenly . . . dented?
My heart pounded, either from excitement or from being overly strained. I didn't need a doctor to tell me that building up so much electricity was hazardous to my health, but I kept concentrating, willing those inner currents to grow and strengthen. Sweat beaded on my upper lip, my vision blurred, and my whole body started to tremble, yet I kept focusing -
White light briefly suffused the room and I heard a zzzt! right before an ominous cracking at my feet. I looked down, both elated and mildly terrified to see a small but distinct hole. Good news: I'd broken through my glove. Bad news: I might've punched a hole all the way through the boat's hull, too.
I didn't hear any footsteps, but I hadn't expected any strange sounds to go uninvestigated. Seconds later when the guard with the thick beard and long black hair appeared in the doorway, I'd already covered the hole with my foot.
Of course, if that hole started spurting water, I was dead.
"You've got to let me out!" I improvised, banging against the pole and making more of a ruckus. "I, um, I have to pee!"
The guard, who I'd nicknamed Captain Morgan because of his looks, shook his head in disgust.
"Humans," he muttered. Then he disappeared.
I waited, breath sucked in, but he didn't reappear and water didn't start shooting up beneath my foot. Then I exhaled with relief and ruthless determination. Ten more minutes until the next guard checked in with me. In that time, I'd have to get free, and once I did, I'd have to kill them all.
Chapter 15
Thankfully, I got loose without punching more holes into the floor, but I barely made it to the blind spot behind the door before the next guard came to check on me. I cursed my heartbeat as I heard those light footsteps come nearer. Could the guard hear that I was no longer secured to the railing? If so, I was signing my own death warrant. Hannibal's warning echoed through my thoughts. Dead is still a good payday for me . . .
Nerves and fear added to the electricity shooting into my hand, making a tiny shower of sparks rain from it. The air felt thicker and I caught a whiff of ozone. Then the guard paused at the doorway before rushing forward with a muttered "What?"
My wrist snapped, the currents arcing out as though they had a will of their own. The blond guard didn't utter another word, but his mouth was still moving when his head hit the floor. The rest of him stayed upright for a few seconds, arms flailing as though he was trying to get his balance.
I was too worked up to be sickened. Fear-fueled adrenaline surged through me, acting like jumper cables to my currents. I peeked down the hallway, saw no one, and at once seized on a way to lure another guard in the room without arousing suspicion.
"What are you doing?" I asked in a shrill voice. "Stop! Get your filthy hands off me!"
I punctuated that by making a slapping sound and then crying out as though in pain. After that, I made ragged whimpering noises interspersed with cries of "Don't, no, stop!"
Moments later, Hannibal muttered, "I told you not to damage the merchandise, Stephen. Fuck someone in the hold instead - "
My wrist snapped as soon as Hannibal crossed the threshold, but he took one look at the body and slammed the door back into me. The whiplike current sliced into his waist instead of his neck, but not deeply enough. He was still standing.
"Bitch," Hannibal snarled as something red hit the floor.
Part of me was screaming in disgusted horror, but survival instinct trumped everything else. Hannibal lunged at me and I whipped another sizzling current at him. It cut through his shoulder all the way down to his side, blanketing me in a veil of red as his momentum carried him into me.
I shoved him away. He fell, but the half of him that had a head kept flopping toward me. Only a few inches of flesh attached his left side to his torso, yet he still wasn't dead?
"Bitch," he rasped.
My eyes bugged. He could talk, too?
I didn't want to see what else Hannibal could do. Another burst of current turned him from a large Y shape into a dotted i, but I didn't have time to breathe a sigh of relief. More footsteps sounded in the hallway.
"Not inviting me to the party?" an amused voice asked.
I didn't wait for him to see that the "party" had taken a lethal turn. As soon as those footsteps got close, I whipped a bolt into the hallway, hitting the Captain Morgan look-alike. He stared at me with the oddest expression on his face. Then everything north of his jaw slid off, hitting the floor with a thud that was echoed by his body moments later.
"What the f**k."
A fresh surge of adrenaline shot through me. The fourth guard stared at the remains of Captain Morgan with disbelief. Then he disappeared up the stairs with vampiric speed.
I ran after him, desperation or overexertion making my heart feel like it would burst. The vampire was already at the controls, punching a button as he glanced back at me -
The bolt cut him across the face, but I was too far away for it to kill. I lashed another one at him as I scrabbled up the deck so fast that I fell. Immediately, something heavy smashed into me, pinning me down before it bashed my head against the thick fiberglass.
The fifth guard had joined the fight.
My vision swam while pain seared my mind, but if I focused on that, I was dead. Instead of protecting my head as I instinctively wanted to do, I laid my right hand against the vampire, shooting everything I had left into him.
Immediately, his weight was gone. I crawled backward so fast that I almost pitched myself overboard, but I grabbed the railing just in time. Then I held on, looking around with frantic resolve for my attacker.
No one rushed toward me. Nothing moved at all, in fact. I used the railing to hoist myself to my feet, my head continuing to ring while nausea and the pitching waves made it hard to find my footing. I hadn't taken one step before I tripped, cursing my clumsiness. Then I looked down . . . and stared.
I hadn't tripped because I was dealing with the aftereffects of getting my head bashed against the hull. I'd tripped because the deck was covered in what looked like lasagna. It took a few seconds to translate the sight.
Not lasagna. The remains of the vampire who jumped me. Had to be; the other vampire was slumped over the controls, slowly withering as all vampires did when they truly died. I'd shoved so much electricity into my attacker that he had exploded.
I was torn between wanting to laugh from relief and wanting to crawl back to the railing and throw up until I passed out. I'd wanted to kill my captors and I had, yet I hadn't been ready to know the full extent of my abilities. As usual, life hadn't waited until I was ready to show me what it had in store.
The sound of several hard thumps yanked my focus from the terrible sight around me. They came from below deck, and caution mingled with hope. Was that Maximus? Or another guard trying to lure me down to the same lethal trap I'd used on his buddies?
I went over to the narrow staircase, looking at it with resignation. My whole body was drained but the fight might not be over. Bad guys didn't stop for time-outs and neither could I.
I didn't bother to creep down the staircase. At my stealthiest, I couldn't sneak up on a vampire who knew I was coming. My only defense was my right hand, and it felt like a light bulb that was one switch flip away from burning out. The thumps continued, coming from underneath the floor despite me being below deck now. Did this boat have another level to it?
I flinched at every pitch and roll of the boat, anticipating a sixth attacker about to pounce on me. The only open door along the narrow hallway was the one filled with bodies, but I wasn't alone. The continued sounds proved that.
I'd reached the end of the hallway when a thump vibrated right underneath my foot. I jumped back, weak sparks shooting from my hand, before noticing the latch in the floor.
A cargo hold locked from the outside. That ruled out an imminent attack by a sixth guard. Another thump sounded. Maximus, I thought, relief making me drop to my knees. I pulled out the bolt, flung open the trap door . . . and stared.
"Please," a red-streaked girl mumbled. Her eyes were closed and more bloody forms were beside her.
I wanted to pull her up but didn't touch her. Even drained, the juice in me would harm her and she looked near death already. Hannibal's directive to Stephen rang across my mind. Fuck someone in the hold instead. I hadn't been the only cargo Hannibal had picked up.