"Welcome back."
Rachel winced at those words as she blinked her eyes open. For a moment she wasn't sure where she was, but then Pudge's face came into focus before her and her memory returned. Following his gaze to her chest, she grimaced at the sight of her shirt hanging open to reveal her bloodstained lace bra.
"I took the stake out," Pudge explained, his gaze roving the smooth skin with fascination. "You healed like crazy. First the bleeding stopped, then the hole closed, then even the scar went away. It was mag, man!"
Rachel turned her head wearily away from his excited face. Mag. But now she desperately needed more blood. She couldn't sustain and recover from a wound like that without using a lot of it. Her body was in an agony of want, cramping and crying out for the fluid of life. She could actually smell the blood inside the man standing before her, and thought she might even be able to hear it pulsing through his veins. If he moved closer, Rachel wouldn't trust herself not to simply take a bite out of him despite her best intentions. With her body screaming for it, she was definitely feeling capable of the feat.
Rachel gave her head a shake and mentally berated herself for even thinking that way. She wasn't some soulless bloodsucking demon who couldn't control herself. Etienne had assured her she wasn't. She could fight it. She just had to convince the incompetent little stake-happy geek to go rob a blood bank and bring her nourishment. She wasn't biting him.
A moan from across the room made Pudge glance behind him, then he moved away. Rachel was so relieved that he had taken his blood-filled scent away that she closed her eyes and didn't pay attention to what he was doing until he returned. The scent returned with him, stronger than it had been before.
"Here you go. I thought about just killing her but decided to save her for you. You need blood. Bite her. Give her the vampire kiss."
Rachel moaned and turned her head desperately away as Pudge pushed a pale and still woozy Mrs. Craveshaw at Rachel until she was practically beneath her nose. The woman had apparently been unconscious the whole time, which could only be a good thing, Rachel supposed. At least the woman hadn't witnessed her "mag" healing. The problem now was that the older woman had a cut on the top of her head from where Pudge had hit her. The blood had poured out into her hair and made a trail down her neck to soak in the shoulder of her flowered blouse. The scent was intoxicating, tempting, damning. She felt her control slipping, then glanced down at the woman's face when she whimpered. Mrs. Craveshaw wasn't looking at her; she was eyeing Pudge in a frightened manner that made it clear she thought he was quite mad. Who could blame her? Rachel thought wearily. There was no such thing as vampires.
"Come on, bite her," Pudge whined, sounding impatient.
Rachel merely closed her eyes and shook her head, turning her face to the side in an effort to escape the tempting scent. She'd die before killing another being and very much feared that if she did bite the woman, she wouldn't be able to stop until she'd drained her dry. She wouldn't risk it.
"Not hungry enough yet, huh?" Pudge sounded disappointed. "Well, I'll just keep her here until you are. Oh!"
That exclamation drew her wary gaze back. Much to her relief, Pudge was urging the woman back across the room. She could still smell the blood, but it was fainter, less tempting. But the bright expression on his face as he glanced back made her wary.
"I bet you're tired, huh?" Pudge said as he tied the woman up. "I hadn't thought of that, but it's daytime and all that, and you're probably suffering that vampire weariness where you can hardly stay awake and you're really weak and stuff."
Rachel didn't bother to correct him. She didn't think it would be good for him to know any more than he already did about vampires.
"Come on." Moving back to her, he quickly undid the manacles around her neck, shoulders, and waist, then bent to undo the ones around her thighs and ankles too. Rachel stared down at his head as he worked, thinking mournfully that if she weren't so weak, this would be her opportunity to escape. But her body was seriously lacking in strength, her muscles rubbery with weakness. She wasn't even sure she could hold herself up much more than a moment, let alone knock the little jerk on his butt and make a run for it.
"You can sleep in my coffin," Pudge announced, straightening to quickly undo her wrists. He was obviously aware of her weakness, or she didn't think he'd have left his crossbow behind, but apparently he was putting it down to it being daytime rather than the blood loss due to the injury. But she hadn't bled out a lot, and he didn't know that the blood would have been used up to repair the damage.
"Originally, I intended to kidnap Etienne and keep him prisoner here," he said chattily as he helped her to the large coffin she had noted earlier. "I thought that way I could make him give me all his computer ideas and maybe, you know, bring around the people I don't like for him to bite. There are a lot of people I don't like. I could have kept him quite a while. But then I realized he was too strong to risk that."
He tugged up the lid of the metal coffin and pushed it all the way open to reveal a red satin lining. Rachel stared into the huge space with bewilderment. It looked like two or three people could easily fit inside.
"I had it made special," Pudge told her. "I wanted it big enough for me and my vamp babes when I got turned."
Rachel shook her head at this information. Her thinking was growing muzzy with the need for blood, but she realized that this guy was beyond help, over the edge.
"In you go," Pudge instructed.
Rachel was exhausted and really wanted to lay down, but there was no way she was getting willingly into that coffin. She'd rather sleep on the concrete floor. "No."
The word slipped so faintly from her lips that Pudge didn't hear her. "Come on, in you go."
"I'm not sleeping in that coffin," Rachel managed a little more strongly.
"Yes, you are," he insisted. "Get in the coffin. You'll sleep better."
She managed a shake of the head and glared at him, not surprised when frustration immediately crossed his face. Then his expression cleared.
"Get in the coffin or I'll kill Crabbyshaw."
Rachel's shoulders slumped in defeat at that threat and she admitted, "I don't think I can--"
It was as far as she got. Pudge scooped her up and dumped her unceremoniously inside. Rachel wasn't sure if it was irritation or simply that he was too weak to hold her for long, but she landed hard and was left gasping as added pain radiated through her. While she was thus incapacitated, Pudge snapped a new manacle around her ankle.
"The chain's long enough for you to get out and feed on old Crabbyshaw when you get hungry," he explained. "But not long enough for you to get away. Sleep well!"
The lid slammed closed.
Rachel was immediately enclosed in cloying darkness. She reached up weakly, her hand coming up against the satin lining of the coffin. Panic tried to overwhelm her. She had always had a touch of claustrophobia, but it seemed intensified in that moment. Forcing herself to breathe deeply, Rachel let her hand drop weakly back to her chest and tried to calm herself. She would just rest a while. She would rest and regroup, and when he left, she'd slip out and...
Her thoughts became fuzzy there. Slip out and what? Would she even be able to slip out? Without blood, she wasn't likely to regain her strength. Instead she would grow weaker and weaker and... Dear God, where was Etienne? Why wasn't he here getting her out of this mess? She'd saved his behind by ensuring he was left in his office where blood was readily available; the least he could do was come give her a hand.
It was growing hard to breath. There didn't seem to be enough air in the coffin. She must be using it all up. She would suffocate and die in here.
Rachel forced herself to calm down, telling herself it was just her claustrophobia. She wouldn't die. No one had mentioned lack of air as one of the ways they could die. She just needed to stay calm and wait. Etienne would come.
Etienne frowned and glanced toward the door. He wasn't sure, but he thought he'd heard something. Leaving the mess of burnt circuits he'd been fiddling with for what seemed like hours, he stood and moved to the door to press his ear against it.
"Etienne." The name was very faint through the door, barely audible, but there nonetheless. They'd arrived. Relief welled through him but was quickly followed by confusion as he wondered why his brother hadn't just tried to use thoughts to speak to him. The moment he wondered that, he became aware of several different thoughts hitting his mind at once and realized that they probably had been trying to reach him mentally, but he'd been wrapped up in tinkering with the computer and had unconsciously closed his mind to outside thoughts.
Etienne? Are you all right?
What happened?
We can't get the door open.
The thoughts flooded his mind all at once and were somewhat confusing, but he recognized that Bastien, Lucern, and his mother were all there on the other side of the door.
Pudge wrecked the door panel. He sent the thought back. I'm all right, but he took Rachel. You have to get the door open.
How? The word was clear but accompanied by various unpleasant thoughts about Pudge and concern for Rachel. Etienne considered the question briefly. If he were out there he could probably get the door open himself, but the rest of his family wasn't very technical. He could probably talk them through it if he could see the panel to see what was damaged, but without that, the fastest way was--
You'll need an acetylene torch. You'll have to cut through the steel around the door lock. He waited to be sure they had understood and that one of them had left to go in search of the needed torch, then asked, What time is it?
A little after six, came the answer, and Etienne closed his eyes. He wasn't positive, but he thought it had been around noon when Pudge had broken in.
That meant he'd had Rachel for more than six hours. God, he hoped she was all right.
It was loud rock music that woke Rachel up. She opened her eyes and stared into unrelenting darkness. Her breathing immediately seemed to come harder, as if all the air in the coffin was gone. Panic swamped her again. This time it worked in her favor; the rush of adrenaline accompanying it gave her the strength she needed to shove the coffin lid up. Rachel was so weak she only managed to lift it a couple of inches; then she had to leave her hand between the top and the coffin itself to prevent it closing. She winced at the pain as the lid pressed down on her hand, but it was worth it to have the added air that was now slipping in to her. Gathering her strength, she eased up, forcing the lid of the coffin upward until she could see out into the room.
The first thing she saw was Mrs. Craveshaw tied up and leaning against the wall. The woman was awake and staring wide-eyed at something at the far end of the room. Rachel tried to see what it was, but all she could glimpse was an open door. The position of the coffin didn't allow her to see much of the next room, only a sliver. She didn't see Pudge anywhere. Half-dragging herself and half-pushing, Rachel began to climb over the side of the coffin, suddenly recalling her first morning in Etienne's house, and the way he had sat up and leapt smoothly out of his coffin. She wished she had the strength to do that right now but considered herself lucky to be able to climb out at all. It was sheer determination moving her, Rachel suspected. She needed blood. She had to get out of there.
A grunt slipped from her lips as Rachel managed to force herself far enough over the edge so that gravity took over and she tumbled to the floor. The rattle and clang of the chain attached to her ankle seemed incredibly loud, despite the music blaring from the other room. She gave herself a chance to catch her breath, expecting Pudge to come stomping up and ruin her escape at any moment.
Rachel opened her eyes and peered toward Mrs. Craveshaw. The woman was now dividing her wide-eyed gaze between Rachel and the other end of the room. Rachel didn't know whether the look on the old woman's face was fear of her or fear for her but knew she had to move.
Not feeling up to standing, Rachel crawled to the woman on her hands and knees, dragging the chain behind her. "Are you okay?"
Mrs. Craveshaw managed a shaky smile. "Yes, dear. But I'm afraid Norman has gone quite mad. He seems to think he's a vampire."
Rachel followed her gaze to the door in time to see Pudge walk past it. The long cape she'd spotted hanging on the wall was now billowing around his body. Fake white fangs flashed at his mouth.
"Crazy as a loon," Mrs. Craveshaw said with disgust, as Pudge suddenly stopped and whirled back the way he'd come, drawing the edge of the cape up to his chin with one hand as he leered into what Rachel presumed was a mirror out of sight in the room.
"I vant to suck your blood, baby," she could just barely hear him say over the music, in a really bad Dracula impression.
"Yes," Rachel agreed. "Crazy as a loon."
"We can't call the police. What would we tell them?"
"Look," Etienne interrupted his brothers, who had been arguing ever since finally freeing him from his office. It had felt like forever but might have only been moments since he had been freed, but every minute wasted was too much to him. He had to get to Rachel. "You can call or not as you like, but I'm heading over to Pudge's house. He must have taken her there."
"You aren't going alone," Marguerite said firmly. "We'll all go."
"What about the police?" Bastien insisted. "This is the perfect opportunity to get Pudge out of your hair. He's actually kidnapped Rachel. They'll throw him in jail."
"Pudge will be dealt with one way or another," Etienne said with determination and started up the stairs.
"You have your cell phone, Bastien," Lucern pointed out. "You can call the police on the way over. It can be an anonymous tip. You saw some guy forcing a woman into his house at gunpoint."
"Good thinking," Bastien agreed as he followed them into the kitchen. "What's his address, Etienne?"
Etienne hesitated. He kept seeing Rachel in his mind's eye, trying to look brave despite her worry as a line of blood beaded on her throat beneath the slice of the knife. For the first time since all this nonsense had started, he wanted to kill the pathetic creature everyone called Pudge.
"Etienne." His mother's voice was firm, carrying a warning. Marguerite obviously knew what he was thinking. He wouldn't put it past her to have Lucern and Bastien restrain him "for his own good" until he released the information, and he cursed himself for not being able to get out of the room on his own. Had he been able to, Pudge would already be dead and Rachel safe.
Before, killing Pudge to get rid of the problem he represented had seemed extreme. He was such a pathetic fellow, motivated by jealousy and anger. Etienne had actually felt sorry for the little weasel... until now. Now he heartily wished he'd killed him while he'd had the chance.
"I'll give you the address on the way. I want to get there before the police do. Their presence might threaten her well-being. I want to be there to be sure she's all right," he said as he led the way to the garage.
Rachel struggled with the rope tied around Mrs. Craveshaw's wrists, her attention distracted by the idiot prancing around in the next room. He kept swooping past the door, posing and dancing about to what she suspected was the soundtrack from the movie The Lost Boys. Fortunately, he was too busy flashing his fangs and testing really bad vamp pickup lines to notice that she was out of her coffin and trying to free his neighbor.
Trying. Rachel sighed and returned her attention to the ropes. He had really knotted them good, and she was working with very little strength. She sagged against the wall next to the woman as she worked. The woman's bulk helped keep her out of view of the door, but her position was also the only thing keeping her upright. She was growing weaker with every passing moment, finding it more and more difficult to think. It also left her temptingly near the other woman's throat, where perspiration was shining like the glitter of a diamond. Rachel could smell her anxiety and fear, but even more overwhelming was the scent of her blood. Rachel was fighting the instinct to bite the woman as she wrestled with the rope, and she seemed to be losing both battles. Tears welled up in her eyes as she glanced at the woman's neck again.
Just a little bite, a nibble, her mind tempted her. Just enough to be strong enough to untie her.
"No," she told herself firmly.
"No, what, dear?" Mrs. Craveshaw asked.
Rachel shook her head, then glanced around frantically when Muffin suddenly let out a bark. Terrified that the animal would draw Pudge's attention, Rachel hushed the pet. "Shhh, Muffin, nice doggie," she hissed.
The little dog sat down, but his gaze was fixed on the stairs and his tail was wagging hopefully. Rachel twisted to see the stairs and felt her heart lodge in her throat at the sight of Etienne descending them. He'd come.
"Thank God," Rachel moaned and sank against the wall. His arrival wasn't a moment too soon. One more second and she might have done something she could never forgive herself for. She doubted Mrs. Craveshaw would have forgiven her either.
"Rachel." She let her eyes flutter open as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"Thank God you came," she whispered then fell silent as his lips dropped to press on hers. It was a sweet kiss, almost reverent.
"Of course I came. I care about you."
Rachel's eyes had drifted closed when he kissed her, but now they flew open again. It wasn't a proclaimation of love, but it was nice just the same. "You do?"
He smiled at her expression and brushed her hair away from her face. "How could I not? You're beautiful, brave, intelligent, and stubborn as hell." He grinned at the way her lips twisted, then added, "And you like my games. That shows you have incredibly good taste." He kissed her again.
"Ahem."
Rachel and Etienne pulled apart at that rather loud throat clearing from Mrs. Craveshaw. The woman gave them a pained smile. "Everyone loves a lover, dears, but there is a time and place for everything, and this really isn't the time or..." She glanced around with a wrinkled nose. "Or the place, really."
"Sorry, ma'am." Etienne gave her a charming smile.
"I was having trouble untying her," Rachel informed him.
"She's awfully weak, the poor child," Mrs. Craveshaw informed him as Etienne began to untie her ropes. "I don't know how long he's held her here, but he's obviously been starving her. Why, he kept calling her a vampire and trying to make her drink mine and Muffin's blood. Norman has obviously lost his mind."
"Norman?" Etienne paused in surprise. "You mean Pudge?"
"Pudge." The woman tsked in disgust. "He insisted people call him that. His mother hated that nickname, God rest her poor soul. She was a dear woman, you know. And a good neighbor too. It was a dark day when she died and Norman was left to live here alone. Norma--his mother--kept him in line while she was alive, but I knew the moment she was gone he would go bad. I was rather hoping he'd move away, but no, he had to stay. His brother wasn't too pleased and I don't blame him. The house should have been sold and the profits split between them, but it wouldn't sell with the mess Norman keeps it. I think he keeps it that way on purpose, and so does his brother. He--"
"Er--ma'am?" Etienne interrupted. "You're untied now. Maybe you could go call the police while I get Rachel free."
"Oh, I'm afraid you'll never get her free without the key. But, yes, of course, I'll go fetch the police."
The woman had been tied up long enough that she needed assistance rising. Rachel watched as Etienne helped her up and hurried her over to her dog, whom she insisted on taking with her. He watched her go up the stairs, then moved quickly back to Rachel.
"How bad is it?" he asked once he was again kneeling at her side. "I can tell you're in pain. Did he hurt you again?"
Rachel nodded. "It was an accident. The crossbow went off when he hit Mrs. Craveshaw over the head with it, and he staked me in the chest."
A curse slid from Etienne's lips as he slipped a bag of blood out of his shirt. "It'll be warm and won't be enough, but it should ease the pain a little bit at least."
She didn't care if it was bacteria-ridden blood; she lifted it to her lips and slammed her teeth into it. The liquid drained out so quickly, Rachel could hardly believe she'd ingested it. She did feel a little better, though, and right away too, but it was only a little, a slight easing of the ache and perhaps a bit more strength. At least she didn't feel like she would pass out if she didn't bite someone immediately.
Rachel sucked every last drop out of the bag, then crumpled it up and shoved it in her pocket as Etienne snapped open the manacle around her ankle. He did it as easily as if it were made of nothing more than paper. He was obviously back to full strength thanks to the blood in his fridge.
"How did you get out of the office?" she asked as he helped her to her feet.
"Mother, Lucern, and Bastien," he answered. "They had to cut a hole out of the door with an acetylene torch. They're waiting out in the van," he added. "It took some talking to convince them to wait there too, I can tell you. I had to promise not to kill him."
Etienne caught her against his chest as she swayed. Concern flickered on his face, but it didn't hide the fury radiating from his eyes, and Rachel thought it would be a good idea to get him out of there before Pudge noticed their presence and the inevitable confrontation occurred. Promise or no promise, she didn't trust him not to kill the man--or get himself killed trying.
"There's more blood in Bastien's van. I'll take you out there, then come back and see to Pudge."
"No. Let the police handle him, Etienne," she said urgently.
"I have to--"
"Holy shit!"
Rachel and Etienne both turned toward the other end of the room. Pudge was frozen in the doorway, shock on his face as he stared at Etienne and Rachel.
Etienne immediately started toward him, but Rachel clung to his arm desperately, managing to hold him back. Or perhaps she merely reminded him of her presence. Whatever the case, he stopped and peered down at her, then moved her behind him and turned to face Pudge. But there was no Pudge to face. While Rachel had distracted him, the other man had disappeared.
"Where the--" Etienne began, then paused and stood a little straighter. He pushed her backward toward the stairs, his body blocking hers as Pudge reappeared, crossbow in hand. It was armed with a fresh stake and aimed directly at Etienne's heart.