Shackled to the Night, page 9
With effort, he waved over a human male who may or may not become Victor’s dinner. Humans were so simple, so stupid. The guy didn’t even realize that his employer, and everyone in the warehouse at that point, was a vampire. He thought he was here to help train and school these poor, homeless boys that no one wanted. Idiot. Victor was so tired; he hoped his scientists got their hurry on and perfected that device soon. He hated his degrading body, and it took up so much energy cloaking himself to everyone as Victor.
“We have one missing,” Victor told the man. “His name is Brandon. Go to the file cabinet, get his file and go to his home, the one he shared with his now deceased family. My guess is that you will find him there.”
Victor had told the man that none of the boys had family willing to take care of them.
The man nodded once and headed to the back room to get the file. Victor watched him go, and decided that the man would not be dinner. He would have the man stick around a few more weeks.
Chapter 13
Emily stood by the TV waiting for Thaddeus to finish showering. She dialed her cell phone’s voicemail on his house phone. Since she had left her cell phone at the pedophile’s home, she felt like a boat that had come loose from its tie on the dock and was bouncing around the waves. She had carried her phone with her everywhere, hoping every hour that she would get a call from Brandon.
When the prompt asked for her pin number, she quickly punched it in. The automated voice told her that she had one new message.
“Mom! Mom!” said the voice, panicked. Emily felt herself sink to the floor, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her heart soaring, her knees weak.
“Mom! I got out! I’m at home, Mom! Mom! Where are you?” There was a small pause. “The guy who took me said he was my dad, that’s why I went with him.” Another pause.
His father? His father suddenly turned up after ten years and took her son from her? How did he even know that he had a son? Her thoughts ran back to one night when Brandon was about six. The hot summer sun had set, but the unrelenting heat still lingered, and her air conditioner had been on the fritz. She had taken Brandon down to the Baskin Robbins to get some relief from the heat, and she was also craving a banana sundae like no one’s business.
As they sat in the cool store by the window, her devouring that delicious sundae and Brandon half eating, half wearing a double scoop of chocolate, she had thought she saw Victor. She had glanced out into the parking lot, and there he was, standing there, looking at her. She couldn’t believe her eyes, and wondered if the heat had caused a short circuit in her brain. She closed her eyes for a second, and then looked back at the same spot. He was gone. Deciding that her brain had indeed short-circuited, she went back to listening to Brandon tell her about a digging club that he and a friend had formed at school. If you were in the club, you could dig holes in the sand on the playground. She smiled at her little club organizer, and didn’t think anything more of her Victor sighting.
Not even a courtesy call from the bastard, but outright kidnapping? Rage coursed through her veins, her vision going red. She wanted Victor Marano’s head on a platter.
The next words turned her blood to ice. The cold ran to her very bones, freezing her muscles in place.
“Mom, they did weird stuff to me. Mom, I need you. Please come get me. I’m at home.” Then the phone clicked off.
She curled up on the floor and listened to the automated voice instructing her on how to listen to her message again, how to save it and how to delete it. Although she had listened to the instructions a million times before, she felt as though she were listening to a conversation between Moroccan monkeys. She blindly started pressing at keys, trying to hear the message again, tears streaming down her face. Her boy was at home, a place of danger for him, because of her. A place where pedophiles or whoever they were would be looking for her. The police wanted her because she had left her cell phone at that pedophile’s house. If Brandon fell into the state childcare system, she was sure that she would never see him again.
What had she done? What if someone had already been there and Brandon was gone? What if the pedophiles had him, or worse, the person who originally took him? If the cops had him, at least she knew he would be safe. But would they let her see him again? Panic soared through her, taking her close to complete hysteria. She needed to hear Brandon’s voice again. What button did she push to make that happen? Why couldn’t she focus on the phone? She couldn’t see the numbers through her tears.
The phone was wrenched from her hand. She got up from the floor in one quick move, needing to hear his sweet voice again.
Thaddeus stood in front of her holding the phone to his ear, his expression grave. She tried to grab the phone out of his grasp, but he stepped back. When she advanced on him again, her anger rising, he gave her a gentle shove backward. Her anger exploded, combined with desperation and relief, and she felt all control snap. She lunged at Thaddeus, wrapping herself around him, clawing at him. “Give me the fucking phone!” she screamed.
Thaddeus remained calm, and somehow his calm enraged her further. She advanced on him again. He dropped the phone to the floor, grabbed her around the waist and turned her around so that her back was against his chest. As she began to kick backward, screaming at him to let her go, to give her the phone, he swept her feet out from under her and took them both to the ground. He flipped around so that his back took the brunt of the fall, but then turned Emily to her stomach. She tried to wrench her body away, but he held her hands above her head and pressed his body onto hers so she couldn’t move. Her physical strength finally gave out after a short while, yet she kept screaming. After a moment she gave up and sagged into the plush carpet. She was no match for Thaddeus’s strength or weight.
“Emily,” he said into her ear, his voice, calm, cool and in charge.
“What?” she croaked weakly, sobs wracking her body.
“I’m going to let you go, then I’m going to listen to the message on that phone. I’ll put it on speaker phone so we can both hear it, but you must calm down and get it together, yes?”
She nodded, a little bit of sanity creeping back into her mind. Screaming and crying wasn’t going to get her anywhere, and it wouldn’t do Brandon any good. She needed to keep her wits about her.
Thaddeus rolled off of her and reached for the phone. She turned over to her back, panting and ears streaming down her face. They listened to the voice mail again. Focus. She had to get it together. For Brandon.
“He’s alive, he’s at home,” she said, breathing hard.
“I’ll go and get your son and bring him back here where it’s safe,” he said, getting up off the floor and heading to the door leading to the hallway.
“I’m going with you,” she choked, standing.
“No you won’t,” Thaddeus said sharply, pinning her with a sharp glare.
She glared right back at him.
“Emily,” he said softly, as if he were sorry for his commanding tone. He took a step forward and put his hands on her shoulders.
She pushed his arms off her and tried to step around him.
“Emily!” he barked as he reached out for her, grabbing her arm.
She raised her chin to him, seething. “Let. Go. Of. Me. Now.” Her voice was low and glacial.
Emily knew that she wasn’t being reasonable and that leaving this house was a bad idea, but she couldn’t seem to get past her own hysteria. There were too many factors involved, too many things that could go wrong if she went along with him. Who knew what—or who—they would find at her house.
“Emily, there are people after you. You aren’t going to do anyone any good if you are locked up at the police station, or dead in a fucking ditch. Think of what’s best for Brandon. The best thing for him is for me to get him and bring him back here safely. I can’t be effective in my job if I’m worried about you, which is what will happen if you go. We don’t know what’s happening at the house. Now please. Think of Brandon. Let. Me. Get. The. Boy.”
Her head swam. Her only thought was getting out that door and going home to wrap her arms around her son, to feel him living and breathing against her, to smell his warm scent, to run her fingers through his hair. But the slight thread of common sense that was left in her body told her that Thaddeus was right. Going out to get her son could be a very dangerous thing to do for both of them, and she didn’t want to put her son in any more danger.
Finally, his words sunk in, and she nodded. She heard Thaddeus from a distance asking for her address. She answered. Thaddeus told her to call Brandon and tell him he was on his way. Then he disappeared down the hallway.
As she started dialing, she turned to rush out the door. The phone rang, but she immediately disconnected it. She needed to tell Thaddeus something before he left. She turned left and bolted through the large wooden door, noticing an alarm keypad on the right wall. Having never been in the room, she was taken aback by the huge expanse of window showing the night sky. The stars were just starting to twinkle to life, the moon throwing shadows on the mountain across the valley. She was struck by the view, and there was a small voice in the back of her head wondering why a room with a view like this needed a keypad for access. No fine art, piles of gold bars, no extensive gun collection or expensive wines. Just a big window. Brandon. Right. Her thoughts came back into focus.
Thaddeus turned to her, sliding two guns into each pocket of his black leather trench coat, and the doors skidded open to reveal an elevator.
“Tell him angels fly at night,” she said hoarsely.
“What?” Thaddeus said, holding the elevator door open with the toe of his boot.
“Tell him, angels fly at night. That’s our code. He’ll know that you’re a safe person to be with. He knows not to go with anyone unless they say those words.”
Thaddeus looked at her curiously. “Then why did he go with a stranger?”
“He went with him because he said he was his father,” she said softly. “He always wanted to meet his dad.”
Thaddeus nodded once and the elevator doors came together.
Emily looked around, suddenly alone, her emotions going crazy. She was frantic, happy, uncertain, and definitely impatient. She paced back and forth in front of the huge window for a while and then went back through the big wooden door, down the hall and to the Great Room that held the TV. She went to the wet bar and poured herself a single shot of whiskey. Deciding one wasn’t enough, she poured another and slammed it down. The auburn liquid burned in her stomach, but calmed her nerves a little. She turned on the TV and began flipping through the channels. Nothing could quiet her roaring mind, her churning emotions. She dialed the phone again and left a message.
“Brandon. Brandon, it’s Mom. Are you there?” She paused a beat and waited to see if he picked up. “Brandon, if you can hear this, someone is coming to get you. His name is Thaddeus. He’ll know our secret code. Do you understand me? He’ll know it, and he’ll bring you back to me. I love you baby…”
She hung up, waited for a second to let the answering machine on the other end to reset, and called again. No answer. She paced the large room, the sounds from the TV buzzing in her brain. She looked at the large clock on the wall. Thaddeus had been gone exactly ten minutes. Ten long, excruciating minutes. She was certain that time had slowed and that she very well may go crazy before she saw her son.
She left the TV room, through the large wooden door, down the hallway of bedrooms and out to the room with the large window. She sat on the weathered couch and stared into the night, trying to hold it together while she waited for Thaddeus and Brandon.
Chapter 14
Thaddeus pulled the Mercedes up to the curb two houses down from the address Emily had given him. The neighborhood screamed average, middle class, and he could see and hear through the open windows the families gathering for dinner or watching TV, getting homework done. If there was going to be conflict with any of Emily’s pursuers, whether it be the cops or the other men after her, it was going to have to be kept quiet.
Emily’s house was dark. The small white home with the blue trim and the neatly-kept lawn and flower beds looked like a happy place for Emily and her son. He imagined Emily outside fussing with the rose bushes, while Brandon played in the street with the neighborhood kids. He envisioned her checking on him every now and then, yelling for him to come closer to the house when he went too far down the street. A normal kid with a normal childhood.
He flashed back briefly to his own childhood.
He didn’t remember a time when he wasn’t scared, when he wasn’t hungry. He didn’t remember a time when he wasn’t cold, or very hot, as his mother dragged him and his siblings all over the world, from continent to continent, in search of her next mate. He remembered Aiden taking care of him when he was young until the rest of his brothers came along, and then he and Aiden had taken care of them, because God forbid that fucking mother of theirs ever did anything kind or decent to her offspring. Thaddeus felt a touch of envy at the childhood Brandon had, but quickly pushed it aside. Thaddeus’s childhood was long past, and that was where it needed to stay. He brought his focus back to the task at hand—getting Brandon.
He sat in the car for a moment, trying to sense any movement in or around the house. It felt empty.
He got out of the car, hoping that the families on the street were too engrossed in the business of their own homes to notice a six-foot-eight, two-hundred and seventy pound guy wearing a black leather trench coat, camo pants and combat boots walking around. He clearly didn’t fit in, and he knew that if he were seen, the cops would most likely be called.
He went through the gate to the back of Emily’s house and stopped at the sliding glass door on the deck. He smiled. A little tug and pop, and he would be in the house. He wouldn’t have to break anything and draw the attention of the neighbors.
He slid the door open quietly, stepped inside the darkness and listened again. He stood in a small, tidy kitchen that led into a small, orderly living room.
A dark green couch hugged the white wall facing a small TV in the corner across the room. A coffee table sat almost in the middle of the room, and he imagined that a shin or two had come in contact with it, especially if the owner of said shin was trying to get around the house at night. He sent up a thank you for his superior night vision, happy his tibias would be saved.
On another table, he noticed framed pictures and took a quick glance. Brandon’s mug was in all of them, Emily’s beautiful face sometimes joining his. He could see the love on her face for the boy. The pictures were obviously taken in happy times as smiles radiated from the frames.
Suddenly, he caught the scent of blood. His fangs punched through his gums, a normal reaction for a vampire. He hurried through the living room and turned the corner to the three bedrooms. He did a quick check on the two bedrooms that had open doors, and then approached the third. He inhaled deeply, and the scent of blood got stronger.
He cracked the door, drawing out the blade he had strapped to his lower back. He was only going to use his guns as a last resort, and if he were dealing with humans, taking anyone down would be a piece of cake.
His superior vision enabled him to see into the dark room. A small figure was curled up on the bed, and a larger figure was lying face-up on the floor. He glanced around the room and didn’t see anyone else. Posters of Batman and Spiderman stared out at him from the blue walls, and he recognized a couple of other characters from video games.
The man on floor let out a moan but didn’t open his eyes. Thaddeus stepped toward the bed, and was about to shake Brandon awake, when he saw a trickle of blood coming out of the boy’s mouth and snaking down his cheek to his pillow.
Thaddeus’s heart kicked up a beat, and he looked at the boy’s chest. It rose up and down in a smooth, rhythmic way, indicating the deep breathing of sleep. His cheeks were rosy. Except for the blood, he looked like a healthy boy who was taking a nap. The guy on the floor groaned again.
Thaddeus stepped back and thought the situation had a whole lot of what-the-hell going on. If Brandon was hurt, as it seemed from the trickle of blood from his mouth, then why was the guy on the floor playing like he was a piece of carpet? Thaddeus’s eyes tracked back and forth between the man on the floor and the boy on the bed. He stepped toward the bed again and gently shook the boy awake.
Brandon’s eyes flew open, his hand grabbing Thaddeus’s wrist with more strength than a ten-year-old boy should have. He then hissed, pulling his lips back to reveal fangs.
Okay, the situation had just moved from what the hell into what the fuck territory.
“Brandon?” Thaddeus asked quietly. He wasn’t afraid of the boy, just taken by surprise.
The boy hissed again and tightened his grip on Thaddeus’s wrist. It took a few seconds to process everything. The hissing boy on the bed with the shaggy brown hair and the piercing green eyes was Brandon—he had seen his pictures the living room. Even if he hadn’t seen pictures, he would have recognized the boy simply because of the eye color and his face held the same subtle beauty as Emily’s.
He recalled the message he had heard on Emily’s phone. “They did weird stuff to me,” was what the boy had said. Yes, they had. Somehow, it looked as though they had been able to activate the DNA of Brandon’s vampire side, bringing it out, front and center.
The boy arched his head and pulled Thaddeus’s arm closer, as if he were going to strike with his fangs.
