Page 74 of Mongrel
Báthory stares at the blood. One crimson drop falls to the floor, a new stain among many on her polished wooden planks.
Bowie’s hands tighten in my fur. We press against each other.
She bends at the waist. Her tongue darts out to wet her unnaturally red lips.
And she drinks.
What have we done?
Chapter 23
If I thought her eyes were black before, I’m sure of it now. As the power of Janos’s blood courses through her veins, her irises gleam pure ebony.
Báthory drops his hand, and Janos tugs it back inside the cage. He licks the gash she made in his palm, settling back against the bars as far from her as he can get.
Her gaze flits wildly around the room, landing on nothing in particular, just bouncing from one corner to another.
I have an idea of what she’s seeing. When I drink from Bowie, it’s as if all my senses sharpen and hone to become nearly otherworldly. Colors are brighter, details crisper, and everything vibrates with life. If that’s what she’s experiencing now, we’ll have a hell of a time convincing her to stop after one drink.
“What is this magic?” Báthory inspects her hands, marveling at the buffed nails and bejeweled fingers. “What are you creatures?” Her gaze shifts from Janos to Bowie.
I figure it won’t matter at this point if we tell her the truth. It’s obvious she must be killed. Her lust for inflicting pain has signed her death sentence in my eyes. If only she would leave us alone, perhaps we could escape.
“If I tell you,” says Bowie, “will you send for a doctor? He will also need food if he’s to heal.”
“Yes, yes, whatever.” She waves a hand absently in the air, intent on the information.
“Why should I believe you?” asks Bowie.
She giggles, an airy, mad sound that buzzes around my twitching ears like hornets. “Because the alternative changes nothing. You talk, and perhaps I give you what you want. Or you don’t talk, and I work my way down a list of unpleasant activities until you change your mind.”
A low growl rumbles in my chest. I do not like this woman threatening my Bowie. I’ll rip her spine out through her throat before I let her lay one finger on him.
“Oh,” she tuts. “He seems to be doing better after all. Now tell me what you are, or I shall have his claws removed one by one and strung for a necklace.”
With an irritated sigh, Bowie answers, “He is a werewolf, and we are vampires. Be warned. Our kind won’t tolerate our kidnapping lightly.”
Her thick black brows arch to crescents. “A werewolf. And vampires. So the legends are true? How did this become so?”
If Janos cares that we’ve told her the truth, he doesn’t show it. Stoic and silent in his cage, he watches their exchange intensely.
“Creatures don’t become so. We are born how we are born,” Bowie explains. “Now, the doctor? Please? Or else the poison will overwhelm my blood, and he could still die.”
“I think you lie, pretty man.” Báthory approaches the bars of our cage. “But I understand. You go ahead and keep your secrets while you’re able. I’ve ways of extracting secrets you can only imagine. Perhaps when I return, you’ll be more inclined toward the truth.”
She stands so close it’s all I can do to resist forcing my snout between these bars and biting at her ankles. I hate her for what she’s done and what more she threatens to do. I hope our arrival has at least spared Cecily and the other girls from her attentions tonight.
She spins with a flourish and strides confidently from the room. A door shuts. We’re alone.
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to stay calm. The urge to panic, to let go of control, duck my head and shiver in a corner rises strong, but I can’t allow myself an attack now. I must shift and help the others.
Bowie strokes my fur. “Are you all right?”
I look up. But our signals won’t be enough. Using the strength his blood has given me, I call to my human form and shift.
The change rolls through me with steady ease, thanks to Bowie’s healing blood.
He takes me in his arms. I lean in and hug him around the waist.
