Broken Heart 09 Only Lycans Need Apply(24)

“So much for getting rescued,” said a familiar voice.

I looked to my left. Dove was about three feet away, also tied to a chair. Relief flooded through me. Despite her apparent bravado, I saw the terror lurking in her gaze. She wore a corset and those horrible shoes. Her hair was ratty, and a bruise shadowed her jaw. It seemed Karn and his minions liked to hit women. Assholes.

On the upside, Dove was alive.

“I’m here, aren’t I? Happy rescue!” I pulled against the ropes, but realized very quickly that wiggling free was not an option. I stopped struggling, deciding it was wiser to conserve my energy. I glanced at Dove. “I’m ready to reconsider your theory about vampires.”

“It only took meeting one to change your mind.” She blew out a breath. “Any ideas about getting out of here?”

“Not really,” I said. Why had we been kidnapped? What did Karn want with us? Panic started to edge through the pain. My jaw throbbed endlessly. Oh, what I wouldn’t give for some ibuprofen and a tequila shooter. “Do you know where ‘here’ is?”

“I think we might still be on the college grounds,” she said. “They snatched me outside the dorm rooms and tossed me into the trunk of a car. I was screaming at the top of my lungs, and Scarface hit me. I blacked out.” She paused, then continued. “I managed to get my wrists free and when he opened the trunk, I went right for his undead eyes. So he popped me again.

“When I came to they were carrying me toward the building. It’s the same brickwork as all the campus buildings, but I didn’t recognize the location. I heard them say there wasn’t any electricity . . . and it smells like a tomb in here.”

Dove had reached the same conclusions I had. If we were still on campus . . . oh, crap. There was only one building at the college that was never used, had no reason to be hooked up to the power grid, and would have the dust of the ages in it.

“Shit.” My eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness. “We’re in Building A.”

Dove’s eyes went wide. She looked around, as though she might see the rumored ghost. “Some teacher was killed here, right? And people hear her screams.” She frowned.

“I’ve heard her screams,” I said softly.

“You heard . . .” Dove trailed off and stared at me. “You believe in ghosts?”

“Maybe. I’ve recently had to adjust my skepticism scale.”

“When did you hear these screams?”

Almost thirty years ago. I was five at the time . . . only I think I was the one screaming. I shrugged. “I avoid this building like it’s stacked with plague-filled mummies.”

“What’s going on, Moira? What do you know about this ghost?”

“Not the ghost,” I said. “The woman who was killed. The teacher.” I blew out a breath, and felt chills zip down my spine. “Regina Noreen Jameson.” I looked at Dove. “My mother.”

“Your mother?” Dove’s mouth dropped open. “What about the whole story about your mom dying in a car accident?”

“My grandfather used his influence and money to cover up the situation, okay? It was 1978. There wasn’t CSI or DNA or even TMZ. The college was even smaller then, and only my grandparents and the groundskeeper who found us knew what happened.”

“Us? You were there when your mom was killed?”

A red wave of anguish and fury washed over me, momentarily robbing me of speech and sight. The meds were doing their work, obviously. Because I was still coherent and could control those waves of twisted emotion. But damn! Leave it to Dove to catch such a small slip of the tongue. Amid our current drama, being snatched, tied up, and left to mull about our fates . . . it hardly seemed the place and time to let my past suffocate me. Still. A familiar ache clutched my chest and made my lungs squeeze. I had been five, old enough to remember her. That she liked blue and strawberries and laughing. She smelled liked roses. She liked to sing, even though she was horrible at it. And getting a hug from her was like being wrapped in cashmere.

“What happened, Moira?”

“Yes,” said the smarmy voice of Karn. “Do tell.”

“Fuck you,” I said.

“Such language from a lady.” His minions had followed him into the room. They stayed behind him, on either side, forming a triangle of vampiric evil. “Do you miss your mummy, Dr. Jameson?”

“Are you going to miss your balls?” I asked. “Because I have every intention of removing them.”

“You’re delightful,” he said in a tone that suggested I was the exact opposite. His gaze flickered over Dove. “I really don’t see the point to having you around anymore.”