Immortal Ever After(3)

Well, one of the monsters, Valerie acknowledged on a sigh. Igor was not the one in charge. He worked for the bastard who had dragged her off the street and brought her here. And since Igor had been preparing her for dinner, his boss was no doubt expected back soon. She didn’t have time to sit about re-gathering her strength or nursing boo-boos.

Grimacing, Valerie forced herself to sit up straight, then grabbed the nearest bedpost and pulled herself to her feet. Her head spun and a shaft of pain shot through her back, but she managed to get upright. As she waited for the spinning to stop, Valerie glanced down and saw that there was a bloodstained piece of wood poking up through the also bloodstained upholstered seat of the broken bench she’d landed on. It seemed Igor wasn’t the only one who’d gotten staked.

A quick search revealed that the back right side of her filthy T-shirt was bloodstained. Valerie jerked up the cloth and craned her head to get a better view of the damage. Much to her relief, it looked like it was just a flesh wound. It was bleeding freely, but as far as she could tell, no vital organs had been hit.

Valerie pressed her hand to the wound, trying to slow the loss of blood, and then spared a glance for Igor. He lay prone, seemingly dead. Reassured, she turned her attention to the room itself. There was a phone on the bedside table farthest from the en suite bathroom. Like the décor, the phone was old, but she didn’t care so long as it worked.

Pushing away from the post, Valerie moved to the bedside table, a bit alarmed to find she was unsteady on her feet. Ignoring it, she dialed 911.

Her legs were shaking and her head swimming as she waited for her call to be answered. Afraid she’d collapse, Valerie almost sat on the bed, but then changed her mind. She might not be able to get back up.

Fortunately, the table was between the bed and the outer wall, and a window was only a foot away. Pulling the old-fashioned cord taut, she eased to the window and leaned against the sill as her call was answered.

“911.”

“I need the police and an ambulance. Immediately,” Valerie said, frowning at how weak and shaky her voice sounded.

“What’s your emergency and the address?” the dispatcher asked.

“I don’t know the address. I’ve been kidnapped and—”

“Kidnapped?” the dispatcher interrupted.

“Yes. And there are six other women in the basement. Or were,” she added grimly, glancing toward Igor. “I think he took too much blood and one or possibly even two of them might be dead.”

“Took too much blood?” the dispatcher asked, surprise showing in his previously professional voice. “Did you say you’ve been kidnapped, ma’am? And were these other women kidnapped too?”

“Yes,” she answered impatiently. “You’ll need more than one ambulance. I’m wounded, Igor’s dead, and then there are the other women.”

“Igor?” the dispatcher’s voice took on an edge of suspicion as he picked out the name Valerie and the other women had given to their caretaker. “Did you say that Igor is dead?”

“Yes,” she said, closing her eyes with frustration and wishing she’d kept that bit for the emergency workers to learn when they got there. Since she hadn’t, she had to explain or risk the dispatcher thinking she was crazy. “Look, Igor’s just the name we called him. None of us knew his real name. He was the one who fed us and fetched us from our cages for his boss to bite us. And, yes, I’m pretty sure I killed him. I staked him in the heart.”

“Did you say bite? And that you staked him in the heart?” There was definite suspicion now. No doubt he now thought she was pulling a prank call or something.

Valerie leaned her cheek wearily against the window. The glass was cold against her skin as she tried to clear her increasingly sluggish thoughts and sort out the best way to ensure her call was taken seriously and help was sent.

She finally said, “I realize some of what I’ve said probably sounds crazy and I’m sorry. The man who kidnapped us is a nutcase. He likes to play vampire and bite us. But I think he took too much blood from Janey and Beth. They haven’t talked much the last couple nights and if they aren’t dead, they’re probably dying. You need to send help, EMTs and the police, lots of them, and fast. He—” She paused and stiffened as she became aware of a faraway whirring sound. The automatic garage door opening, she realized as adrenaline shot through her. It was probably the only modern item in this place and she was grateful as hell for the warning it was giving her.

“Ma’am?” the dispatcher asked when she went silent.