Page 41 of Taken By the Ripper
A couple hisses bounced off what sounded like brick ceilings. Flutters of air passed her, and the small hairs on her arms raised when she sensed what could only be predators. Smelling her. Tasting the very air she breathed.
Vampires.
Claude had only mentioned vampires briefly during their conversation. Aside from what she’d learned from books and terrifying stories meant to scare children into obedience, she had no idea what they were really like.
And she didn’t want to.
Unfortunately, she had no choice now.
A touch as brief as the kiss of a breeze guided her forward until the slapping water against her shoes transitioned into something soft and mushy that stank like damp carpet. Another vampire hissed as she passed. The brush of a cold hand against her throat caused her to jump and stifle a scream. But thepossessive caress ended with a growl behind her, the feeling of a gust of wind near her face, and then a whimper in front of her as if someone had gotten punched. Or scratched. She wasn’t sure.
The air turned chillier, enough for her to long to rub her hands up and down her arms to gather warmth to her body, but her wrists were bound together, restricting her movements.
A light touch on the small of her back guided her forward, and her arm brushed against something that felt like a cold metal rod. Finally, someone tugged at her bindings and freed her hands, followed by the light pull of the velvety handkerchief around her eyes.
The handkerchief fell free, and she blinked several times to adjust to the darkness caving in on all sides. She stood within a large cage in the middle of the room, dank stone walls surrounding her. One exit lay in front of her, along with another behind, one she assumed she had entered through judging by how many vampires gathered near it.
She released a startled gasp as a woman appeared suddenly in front of her, not a single brunette strand of her hair out of place in the bun piled atop her head. Her quick, airy touch searched her body, so light that Clara hardly felt the pressure at all.
And then the woman’s body evaporated into mist, reappearing on the opposite end of the bars moments before the cage door squealed shut, and another vampire turned the lock with a key.
The woman who had searched her dipped her head. “Lord Ferdinand,” she said, addressing the leader, “she has scalpels and a needle in her pocket.”
“Are they made of silver?”
“Well, no.”
“Then let her keep them if it gives her a false sense of safety.”
Clara rushed toward the bars and gripped them tightly with desperation burning in each finger. “What about my sister? You promised to take me to Mazie.”
The vampire chuckled, his fangs almost glowing in the dim light of the prison. “And I have. But the question you must ask yourself… Does she want to leave?”
A shuddering breath escaped her lips as her gaze darted from silhouette to silhouette, trying in vain to find one that might belong to Mazie. “You have me. Now I demand that you release her.”
Again, he laughed, his eyes flashing red with thirst. “She was never my prisoner. But you, on the other hand… There is always an exception for you.”
“You promised you wouldn’t hurt her,” a small voice said on the opposite side of the room.
Clara squinted her eyes as if the simple action might allow her to see better in the darkness. But all she found was a feminine silhouette illuminated by a torch flickering its light behind her.
Dread fell to the very pits of her stomach. Her fingers stiffened around the bars in a similar way her neck refused to turn, and her eyes were unable to blink. “Mazie?” she croaked.
The male vampire answered, “And I haven’t hurt her, dear Mazie. I only want her ghoul. I promise she will come to no harm.”
Shaking her head, Clara continued to stare at the woman in disbelief. Her mind whirred quickly, unable to stop long enough for her to make sense of the situation.
But then the figure took several slow steps forward, entering the aura of light emanating from the torches on either side of the room. Mazie’s long blonde hair tumbled in waves down her back. Her thin eyebrows were furrowed, her gaze glued to the ground. And then she glanced up.
Clara’s heart skidded to a stop, ice slowly crawling across the tough, warm membrane.
Mazie’s eyes were red.
“What have they done to you?” she whispered, but the small sound echoed off the walls, nonetheless.
When her sister didn’t answer immediately, Ferdinand flicked his wrist, and many of the others disappeared from the room as quickly as a light snuffing out, leaving behind nothing but wisps of smoke. Only a few remained.
Finally, Mazie answered, “Only what I’ve asked them to do. Once this business with Whitechapel is done, we are relocating somewhere better. Nicer.” She paused, biting her lip hesitantly with the tip of a single elongated fang. “You could come with us.”
