Page 64 of The Baritone's Rival

Everyone sprang into action. Oscar strode to the stairs to the right of where the altar once must have been. A quick spiral down, and Oscar and Lillian found themselves in what looked to be the rec room they’d seen the night before. Folding chairs, a couch, a few tables. But equally empty as the upstairs.

Oscar moved toward the coffee table. The pictures of him and Trent were gone. He surveyed the area. At the rear of the roomwas a dark hallway that went further into the building. They’d need to look back there.

Lillian flipped over the couch cushions, then lifted the whole thing to inspect underneath.

“There’s not even crumbs,” she said. “Someone had to have come back to get the pictures. And they vacuumed? No crumbs, no dust bunnies, not a drop of blood splattered anywhere.”

“It’s odd,” Oscar said. “They must know we’ve been surveilling the place. Why would they?—”

A flicker of movement from down the hallway caught his eye, and he was off, flying across the old carpet into the darkness.

“Oscar, wait!”

A figure turned into one of the rooms in the back, and he followed, so fast that everything was a blur. Maybe he was in a supply room or something? No time to look. He had the fleeing figure in his sights.

Whoever it was tucked themself between some shelving and squeezed into an out-of-place hole in the wall. Oscar followed, not letting up, not wanting to take the chance of losing them. The loud metal crash behind him barely even registered. Had someone slammed an industrial door? It didn’t matter.

He was in a tunnel now, crude and crumbling, the walls a mix of concrete and earth. He moved quickly through, although there was enough dust and debris to know that the passage was a new addition. Ahead, it opened up into a larger room, and a hulking form waited there for him.

It was Elliott.

“My mate.” A few thin beams of light shone down on the brute’s pale, square face from a grate at street level. His wore a cruel smile. He wore his usual uniform of a tight black t-shirt and black jeans with combat boots. How Oscar could have fallen in love with someone with such a boring sense of fashion, he’d never know.

“We’ve had this conversation already. I am not your mate. I do not belong to you.” Oscar stood, his hands on his hips, not backing down. He was done with fear.

“I am the coven master of the Canarsie coven, and you are in my territory.” The madness of petty power flashed in his eyes. “You’ll do what I say. And I say you are my mate. I knew it from the first time I saw you. Your pretty face was so lost, so pathetic. I brought you in. I took care of you. You owe me.”

“What do I owe you?!” Oscar’s voice broke, but he couldn’t back down. “You did nothing but torture and starve us.”

Elliott’s lips curled into a sneer. “It made you stronger, didn’t it? Now you can fight as well as command the mind. Now you are fit to sit beside me as I rule the empire I am building.”

Oscar rolled his eyes. Elliott had always been ridiculous, but this was a truly grandiose delusion. “I think my coven will have something to say about that.”

“Oh really? Where are they?” Elliott made a show of looking around the dark room. “I don’t think they’re coming.”

For the first time, Oscar really took in his surroundings. The atmosphere was damp, and the faint smell of sewage wafted through the air. The walls were in bad shape, shedding pieces of concrete at every turn. He wasn’t sure if he was in an ancient subway tunnel or some kind of waste management artery. All he knew was that it was dirty, it stank, and Elliott was completely at home.

And that Lillian and Freddie werenotright behind him.

“A clever little trap, installing a steel door where the tunnel meets the building. A strong one. No one’s coming. By the time they get through that barrier, we’ll be long gone.”

“Gone where?” Oscar tapped his foot against the dirt. This did not look good. But he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Elliott laughed, low and cruel.

“I’m not going to give away the surprise! You’ll know when I carry you across the threshold.”

“And if I refuse?”

Elliott’s laugh died, and his eyes went cold. “I hope you’re smarter than that.”

Oscar wasn’t being caught unprepared, not this time. In one fluid motion, he pulled out a long knife that was strapped to his hip. Guns weren’t much use against a vampire, but Lillian had been training them in other weapons.

He lunged, and Elliott dodged, but not quickly enough. Oscar sliced into the side of his torso. It wasn’t deep, but it must have hurt. Elliott hissed and extended his fangs.

“You owe me. You were alone. I gave you a life.”

“How’s your eye, asshole?” Oscar slashed again, keeping himself grounded and balanced in his stance. Elliott stepped back, and the knife cut across the tight black t-shirt, exposing pale skin underneath.

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