Page 68 of Forbidden Devotion
Where had all the blood come from?
As he examined their bodies, the answer came clear enough. The men were missing fingers. One had an entire hand cut off, the dead bit discarded like trash in a darkened corner. Another had lost part of an ear. Mitchel’s gut clenched. He wasn’t squeamish, but this was torture, something he never thought he’d see in his lifetime.
Maybe it was a good thing the power was out. This would only be worse if properly illuminated.
“What is the meaning of this?” the taller of the two vampires looming over the men asked, glaring at Mitchel.
If the smaller vampire was annoyed by the interruption, he didn’t show it.
Mitchel explained again as fast as he could. There was no time for this. “My name is Mitchel Edgehill. I am here on behalf of Luther and Ann Davis. Their son, Sinclair, was kidnapped. We need to know if these men”—he gestured to the dying men—“know something that could help find him.”
The tall vampire acknowledged Mitchel. “Say no more.” He nodded to his companion. “Samuel, if you please.”
Apparently, the smaller enforcer was responsible for the torture. A petite man, Samuel stood straight, posture perfect, rigid in his composure. A mane of dark hair flowed past his shoulders. His clothes had somehow remained immaculate, not a speck of blood on him despite the ghastly state of the room. Dark eyes lit with focus as he resumed the task at hand.
Choosing one of the humans, Samuel wrapped his dainty hand around the man’s ankle and yanked him forward. The man screamed and curled in on himself.
Mitchel didn’t want to watch, but he couldn’t look away either.
Samuel spoke in a crisp, clear tenor. “You heard the wolf. A vampire was kidnapped this evening. Where was he taken?”
“I don’t know,” the man cried. “I don’t. I really don’t. Ask someone else.” His pleas were in vain.
The vampire crushed the ankle with one swift squeeze of his fist.
Mitchel heard the bones crunch over the human’s wailing. He hadn’t known a vampire had that kind of strength.
Samuel let go of the mangled joint and took hold of his other ankle, threatening. “I’ll ask you again. A vampire was kidnapped this evening. Where was he taken?” His voice was quick and centered. No emotion seeped into the delivery, as if he were crushing walnut shells, not human bones.
The man quivered, shoulders trembling. “Don’t, no, please. I don’t know. I swear I don’t know, please!”
But it was no use begging. His other ankle was crushed like the first. The disturbing sound of bones snapping out of place was drowned out by the man’s groans.
“All right, I believe you,” Samuel said, sweet as candy, and moved down the line, a lion stalking its prey. “You.” He kicked the next fellow with the pointed toe of his polished leather boot. “You heard the question. Give me your answer.”
This was the man who’d already lost a hand. Clearly in shock, breath erratic, eyes unable to focus, but somehow he managed to speak. “Just kill me,” he gritted out.
Samuel’s gaze narrowed. He pursed his lips and waited as if they had all night.
The man spat blood and mumbled, “I don’t know.”
“Pity,” Samuel said. “We don’t have time for this. I’m going to need an answer quickly.” Instead of breaking his ankle or killing him as requested, Samuel simply pulled a sword from the ornately decorated metal sheath on his hip.
“One last chance?” The vampire raised an eyebrow and glowered.
The man opened his eyes wide with fear. He must have recognized that sword, which probably was the same blade that had hacked off his hand.
Samuel drew the sword back, preparing to strike.
“I don’t know!” the man screamed as Samuel swung the weapon in a graceful arc, relieving him of his other hand.
Samuel stepped over him with a playful skip. “Two down, two to go.”
He was enjoying this. Disgust made Mitchel’s stomach roil, but he stayed quiet and let the vampire finish his awful business. The two remaining men began to quake. Mitchel almost felt sorry for them.
Almost.
“Gentlemen,” Samuel addressed the hostages, standing between them, poised casually as if he were going to ask about their wine preferences and not send them to an early grave. “You’ve heard our dear wolf’s question.” He gestured to Mitchel with a flick of his elegant wrist. The fiend smiled, fangs bared, and it was all Mitchel could do to remain in place and not step back from Samuel’s wicked glare. The vampire smirked and turned his attention back to the humans. “Consider your answers carefully.”
