Roaring Dawn: Macey Book 3 (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 10)(29)

The door opened by some unseen hand and Grady stepped inside. As he did so, his first impression was one of pressing silence, followed by cold. He subdued a shiver. Evil pervaded the space. He could fairly smell its dank, pungent essence.

No sooner had he passed through the entrance than the door closed behind him and he found himself facing two people: a man and a woman. He assumed they were undead, but he said nothing, merely stood there as he was searched none too gently.

He’d tucked the small wooden cross inside his mouth, and would palm it out as soon as the search was completed.

“The master will see you now,” said the woman once they’d finished patting him down thoroughly. As he’d intended, the most dangerous object they found was a thick pencil and pad of paper.

“How is your master called?” Grady asked, though he suspected he already knew.

“Nicholas Iscariot.”

A sharp, cold stab of fear penetrated him, but he gave no indication and made no hesitation. Nevertheless, he’d be lying if he said his knees weren’t weak as he walked down the corridor to face the most powerful vampire in the world—according to Max Denton.

Speaking of Max…Grady hoped Savina had received the message he’d sent to her via a boy on a bicycle, since he didn’t know how else to contact Denton at this time. Grady had directed the courier to start at the Chicago Library, and if Savina wasn’t there, to leave it at Grady’s own house. He suspected the Venator of all Venators would want to know about this situation as soon as possible.

Grady focused, counting the number of guards—presumably all vampires—he passed or glimpsed as they walked. At least ten, including five in the room where Nicholas Iscariot waited. Surely there were more, watching the other exits and entrances.

“Not even noon, and here you are—darkening my doorway,” said Iscariot as they paused on the threshold. “Couldn’t wait to get your story, could you, Mr. Grady?”

Grady stepped through the wide entrance and discovered that Linwood was correct: the vampire had set up his command central in the large, high-ceilinged dining room. Hmm. Perhaps his uncle’s idea of blowing off the roof wasn’t such a bad one after all. The four tall windows that lined one side of the rectangular space had been covered with what appeared to be bedsheets, presumably to keep out the sunshine lethal to vampires.

Despite the powerful creature sitting on a large chair on one end of the room, and his cronies scattered around, Grady ignored the undead at first and turned his attention to the hostages.

The girls were huddled together in a far corner. What struck him was how quiet they were. It was eerie—the taut silence, without even the sounds of sobbing or sniffling. Yet they all seemed aware and awake—for many pairs of wide, frightened eyes followed him. But no one made even the quietest sound.

Next Grady turned his attention to the vampire lord. The man was slender and very pale, dressed in dark clothing that made his skin look even whiter. He wore something like a pendant in the center of his vest, and it glowed a soft, nauseating green.

What Grady could see of Iscariot’s facial features, for he was half in shadow, were just as slender and delicate as his frame. The vampire had sleek black hair, which was so thick that when it was combed back it rose high off his forehead. His eyes were, at the moment, dark and not glowing, and Grady took care to keep himself from looking directly into the vampire’s gaze—or to even skim close to it.

“I saw no reason to delay. And you already know my name—I find that a little surprising.” Grady gestured with the newspapers he still held; his undead escorts hadn’t had the chance to inform their master of his identity.

Iscariot’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. “How could you think you’d escaped my notice? But why do you think I arranged all of this? You are the perfect messenger, and I was certain you would be the one to take on the task. The rest of it”—he gestured to the mass of huddled girls—“is just—what do they say?—ah yes, icing on the cake, no?”

“You arranged this in order to speak to me?” Grady thought he’d been as prepared as possible, but this took him off guard.

“Not merely to speak to you, no—but it’s another benefit of the situation. I need something, and you are going to be instrumental in me obtaining it.”

“Right, then…your demands. I’m here to learn what they are, and to do my best to help you get what you want—but perhaps, as an act of good faith, you’d release the hostages. I’ll take their place.” Grady didn’t figure the vampire would go for it, but it was worth a try.

Iscariot began to giggle, low and dark. “An act of good faith. You’ll take their place. Release the hostages. You sound as if you think you are the one in control here.” He shook his head. “The only way I’ll release any of them—alive, anyway—is when I am in possession of two things: Rekk’s Pyramid and your lover, Macey Gardella.”

“My lover? And a pyramid?” Grady shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re referring to—in either case. Not that I don’t want to help,” he added quickly, holding up his hands.

Iscariot’s eyes began to burn red, and his fangs protruded from beneath his upper lip. He swept to his feet and stalked toward Grady. “Don’t play coy with me, mortal,” he snapped, stopping in front of him. A chill in the air, along with the faintest scent of something foul, accompanied his movements. “I’ve seen you with Macey Gardella.”

Now that Iscariot had come from the shadowy side of the room, his face was in full view, and Grady saw the crooked scar of a cross that marred one side of it. The vampire must have noticed his attention settling there, for his face twisted into fury.

“Yes, your beloved marked me thus,” Iscariot said, his eyes now burning dazzling red, their irises ringed with brilliant blue. “And for that, I will destroy her…but first I’ll kill everyone she loves. Though perhaps I might spare…one…person. If he were to be helpful.”

Grady’s heart was in his throat, but he forced his mind to remain clear and strong. His hands were still up in the air, and he allowed them to tremble slightly—enough for the vampire to see. At the same time, he felt a wave of…something…emanating from the creature whose eyes glowed with unadulterated evil. A little tug. A coaxing sensation.

It made him feel murky. And slow. And…

He collected his cascading thoughts with difficulty, suddenly remembering to slide his hand into the right pocket. The smooth strength of the wooden cross therein was an immediate comfort, and he managed to speak.

“Who? I don’t know— My beloved?” Grady had to force the words from his lips. The allure was stronger now. “I don’t know…and I know nothing…of a pyramid. I…”

“Macey Gardella will pay,” hissed Iscariot, very close to him…so very close… The green pendant nearly touched Grady’s chest. “She will pay dearly for this.” His fangs were fully protruding now, and Grady could smell the rusty scent of blood on his breath.

Someone squeaked fearfully in the corner, and through his soupy mind, he heard the soft rustling of the girls…as if they were packing themselves closer together and deeper into their corner.

Iscariot’s eyes, so very close, beckoned to him…those twin spots of burning light…and they moved in, filling his vision with a dark red gleam that seemed to swallow him up, drawing him deeper and deeper unto a smothering, warm blanket.

From a distance, he heard Iscariot’s words, twining around him like a serpent. “Macey Gardella…you love her…you’d do anything for her…and she’ll do anything to save you…oh, yessss you will…”

“No,” breathed Grady, concentrating desperately on what he had to say, fighting the nausea and terror that rolled over him, over and over, pulling him under… “I don’t…know…Macey…Gardella… You have…the wrong…person. I…can’t…help…”

From a distance, Grady heard that slithering voice, sleek and hissing and soft: “Come now…release yourself…come to me, and tell me all of her secrets…Macey Gardella has the pyramid. Where will she keep it?”

“I…don’t”—he could hardly force the words, but he had to…he must fight this…for the girls—“know…”

“Very well, then,” continued that insistent voice, filtering through the cloying haze of smoky red, “I have other ways of getting the information I need.”

The vampire must have moved back, for the smothering pull eased—but then in the next moment, strong hands were pulling at Grady, grabbing his arms and binding them together tightly. His legs were next, lashed at the ankles with rough, inhumanly strong hands. He blinked, trying to pull himself from the thrall, fighting to clear his mind and prepare himself for whatever was coming…

Everything became a blur of pain and darkness, of burning red eyes and the ugly green glow. He felt himself being lifted off the ground, his body stretched and long as he was suspended from above. The undead were rough in their work: their nails scored his skin, tore his clothing…the ropes stretched him so his muscles screamed…broad fists punched him.