Rachel bit her lip, but she remained still as Etienne's machinery exploded around her. Pudge was enthusiastic with his gun, and the knife at her throat was pressed too tight for her to do anything. She was relieved when he finally decided he'd done enough damage and backed them out of the room.
At the door, he stopped to examine the locking mechanism. She had rather hoped he would just close it, but he wasn't that stupid. He pulled it closed, then shot up the electrical panel. Any hope that Etienne would be able to fix the panel died when Pudge then ripped it and several wires out willy-nilly. Etienne truly was locked in there, Rachel thought with dismay, and just hoped that none of the destroyed equipment started a fire. Burning to death wouldn't be a pleasant way to go, and it was the way Etienne's father had died.
Yet he had blood in there, she assured herself, grateful that Pudge hadn't examined the desk drawers. And no doubt Bastien and Lucern would visit later. They would set Etienne free and then probably come after her. She just had to stay alive in the meantime. Which would have been easier if Pudge didn't know she was a vampire.
Keeping her head attached to her body would be a good start. She'd like to do more, however--like keeping him from cutting her again. The thin slices he had inflicted so far hadn't even come close to endangering her life, but they hurt like crazy. Apparently being turned didn't mean lessening sensitivity to pain. It even increased her sensitivity, she realized. After all, she was more sensitive to pleasure. Why not equally more sensitive to pain?
"Damn."
Rachel gave up considering at Pudge's curse. They had traversed the stairs and were now standing in the kitchen at the back door.
"I forgot I can't take you out in sunlight," Pudge explained.
Rachel brightened. She could survive a few moments of sunlight but was hardly willing to tell him that. "Well, you could just leave me here and--"
Her words died as he dragged her backward to the kitchen table. She wasn't sure what he was up to until he ripped the heavy maroon tablecloth off the table, sending the floral arrangement smashing to the floor.
"You don't think you're going to... You are." She blew her breath out with a sigh as he drew the cloth over her head. Now she had a knife at her throat and was blind. Jeez, it just got better and better. This was even more dangerous. If she stumbled, she might behead herself. Rachel considered telling Pudge that she could survive a little sunlight but feared she might need the knowledge later.
"We're going to move quickly." He urged her forward, presumably toward the door. "I don't want you bursting into flames now, so try to keep up."
"Do you think you could ease up with the knife?" she asked, but the question was drowned out by the click and squeak of the door. Then Pudge was rushing her forward. Aware that any misstep could cost her her life, Rachel frog-marched, keeping her feet up but moving as quickly as she could. Despite her best efforts, she stumbled, grunting as the knife sliced her throat. It managed a deeper cut this time before it was eased away. She heard what might have been an apology muffled by both the cloth over her head and the ringing in her ears; then he jerked her to a halt.
"Get in."
The knife was pulled away, and Rachel felt herself shoved forward and down. Something pressed against the front of her legs, and she tumbled forward. Grateful the knife was no longer threatening her, Rachel immediately began to try to drag the cloth off her head. She received a smack for her efforts.
"Don't. The sunlight," Pudge warned. Then Rachel felt something at her wrist and heard a snap. She pulled, frowning when she was restrained, then cursed as a manacle went on her other wrist.
"These are galvanized steel," Pudge announced. "Four inches thick. You could probably break them, but not without a racket. If you try, I'll shoot you from my seat. And not with a gun--with a stake-shooter through the heart."
"A stake-shooter?" Rachel muttered. She heard a door close, followed by silence. She was just wondering if it was safe to try to shrug the cloth off and chance a look around when she heard another door open. This one was to her right, toward the front of what must be a van, she decided. The floor beneath her rocked a little as Pudge entered the vehicle.
Rachel forced herself to relax and cursed herself for not listening more closely to what Etienne had tried to tell her. She had no idea what her capabilities as a vampire were, except that she was stronger and faster than a normal human and could suffer more damage without dying. From what she understood, short of being burned alive or having her head cut off, nothing could kill her. Though being staked would stop her heart and force the nanos into a stasis until the stake was removed.
It was great to know, of course, but Rachel had no clue how strong she was exactly, or even how much faster she was. She had no idea if she could possibly break her bonds, and if she could, was she now fast enough that she could break out of the van before Pudge could grab his stake-gun--whatever that was--and shoot her down. The idea of trying was tempting, but the idea of being shot--despite the fact that he would probably miss her heart--was somewhat dampening. Rachel hated pain. She'd thought a shot was bad. How about a stake? She could be a terrible wuss when it came to pain; a big crybaby, really. She decided not to risk it.
The ride that followed was short. Rachel spent the time trying to devise a plan of escape. She had no idea why Pudge had taken her. He had needed a shield, or thought he did at first, but once Etienne was locked up, he hadn't anymore. She was rather surprised he hadn't taken the opportunity to stake her then.
Rachel supposed guilt might be the reason he hadn't yet, since his attack was the reason she'd been turned in the first place. But that left her to wonder what he intended to do with her if staking wasn't the plan. Nothing good was coming to mind. Escape seemed her best action. She just had to devise how.
Presumably he would take her somewhere, park, then come at her again with his knife. This time she feared she might have to risk the pain of being cut.
She wasn't looking forward to that, but she might suffer worse if she didn't.
The rumble of the van stopped. It was escape time. She felt her body tense as the van rocked. Pudge was getting out, she realized, then heard the door close. Rachel gave her manacles a testing tug, surprised when the creak of metal stretching reached her ears. She was about to give a serious tug when she heard the back doors open.
Cursing her own timidity, she stilled and waited, startled when the cloth was suddenly tugged from her head.
"There are no windows in this garage. You're safe from the sun," Pudge announced. As if he had purchased this garage and the house that was no doubt attached specifically to keep her safe.
Rachel was less than impressed. Her gaze was fixed on the weapon in his hands. His stake-gun appeared to be a crossbow with a wooden stake rather than an arrow. Not that it really mattered. According to Etienne an arrow, stake, or whatever, if lodged in the heart and left there long enough, could finish her off. So much for escape. At least for now.
"Come on." Pudge stepped back, careful to keep the weapon trained on her heart. He gestured with his free hand for her to get out of the van.
Rachel raised her eyebrows at the order and merely rattled the short chains that bound her to the wall of the van.
"Oh." Pudge hesitated a moment, then apparently decided he didn't want to get close enough to risk being overcome, and simply tossed her the keys.
Rachel managed to catch them between her arm and one breast, then picked them up and set to work on the locks. It was her first good look at the manacles, and the sight was daunting. He hadn't been kidding about them being four inches thick, yet they didn't feel as heavy as they should. Rachel supposed that was due to her increased strength. She really should have gone for it and tugged herself free, she told herself, unlocking first one wrist, then the other.
"Okay, come on," Pudge repeated. Recalling the way he had shot Etienne when he hadn't moved quickly enough, Rachel scrambled to the edge of the van and dropped off to stand on the concrete floor of the garage. She held out the keys to Pudge, but he shook his head.
"You'll need them to open the door." He gestured her to the left.
Rachel turned to survey the direction he pointed toward, spotting the house door at once. It was a one-car garage, and the van, left little more than a foot and a half of walking space. Rachel moved along the passenger side of the van, pausing when she spotted the wreath of garlic with a cross in the center that hung on the middle of the door.
"Sorry. Back off a bit." Pudge quickly stepped up to remove the paraphernalia.
She didn't inform him it was useless. Instead, she pondered how paranoid the man must be to put such things on his door.
"Okay." Taking the cross and garlic with him, he backed out of the way and gestured forward, informing her, "It's the wide silver key."
Rachel sorted until she found the only wide silver key, then stepped up to the door and inserted it in the lock. When the lock clicked open, she turned to arch an eyebrow at her captor.
"Go on," Pudge ordered, gesturing with his crossbow. Rachel opened the door and stepped into his kitchen, then stopped dead. She had never seen such a pigsty. The counters and sink were stacked with filthy dishes, and there wasn't an inch of stove, fridge, counter, cupboard, or floor that wasn't covered with food slops or just plain filth. On top of that was a coating of grease that bespoke a good deal of fried food being cooked.
"Move." A sharp poke in her back made Rachel take a quick step forward, then continue through the kitchen avoiding touching anything. It was bad enough that she had to step on the floor; her sneakers stuck to the linoleum with every step. It was disgusting. And the dining room was just as bad, she saw, as she stepped through its arch.
"Sit down."
"I'd rather not." Rachel gazed over the table with its stacks of dirty dishes. Unfortunately, food wasn't the only thing on the plates. There were more than a couple of bugs crawling across them, feasting happily on month-old pizza and such. As for the chairs themselves, they were blessedly free of plates, but were instead covered with several months' old newspapers, flyers and junk mail. "You know, Pudge, a housekeeper wouldn't be a bad thing."
"Sit!" He was apparently feeling rather confident now that they were inside. He got close enough to grab her by the shoulder and steer her into the nearest chair. Rachel winced as the edge of a crumpled flyer poked her in the butt, but she didn't say anything as he moved around the table and seated himself, positioning his crossbow on the table aimed at her chest.
They were both silent a moment, staring at each other, sizing each other up. But when the silence continued to draw out and Rachel began to feel uncomfortable, she raised her eyebrows. "So?"
"So?" Pudge frowned. "What?"
"Are you going to kill me now or what?" Rachel asked.
"No!" He looked startled at the very possibility. "No way. It's my fault you're a vampire chick. Or is it vampiress?" While he sat muttering and fretting, Rachel tried to figure out exactly where that left her. Judging by the awe in his tone, Pudge was much more impressed by a female vampire. He seemed to see her being a vampire as a cool thing, whereas Etienne being one meant he was someone to be obliterated. She wasn't sure why.
"So..."
Rachel glanced at Pudge's face, made curious by his almost excited look. Nothing prepared her for his question, however. "Are you hungry?"
Taken by surprise she might be, but his question was relevant. She didn't think she'd lost too much blood from the cuts to her throat, but she was hungry. Her gaze drifted to the refrigerator in the kitchen. Did he have any blood in there? It didn't seem likely, but if not, why did he ask if she was hungry? Then again, if he did have blood, she wasn't at all sure it would be safe to drink in this bacteria factory he called a home. She half-suspected it wouldn't be. Could anything in this place be safe to put near her mouth?
"You could bite me," Pudge offered, drawing her attention. He looked rather excited at the prospect. Rachel felt her appetite die a quick death.
"Thanks, but--" she began politely.
"Oh, come on. You have to be craving blood. You could even turn me if you wanted." His gaze dropped to her chest.
Rachel tried not to look repulsed. The idea of his existing in the world forever was a horrible one, almost as bad as biting him. She doubted he was much cleaner than his house. However, she didn't want to cheese the guy off. She hadn't figured out what he intended to do with her, but until she had the chance to escape, she figured it would be a good thing to humor him.
"No, thanks," she said politely in response to his offer. Letting her gaze drift toward the bit of living room she could see, she noticed wood blocking the balcony doors and the metal bars over them. The house was rather gloomy. Glancing around at the other windows, she noted they too were covered with wood and metal bars. Perhaps he hadn't always intended to kill Etienne.
"You know, you aren't bad-looking."
Rachel's attention slid back to her captor. She wasn't quite sure how to respond. From anyone else, the words might be a compliment. The way he said it spoke of disappointment. She understood that disappointment when he explained, "Well, you know. You're pretty enough, but not quite what I expected. In all the movies, the vamp chicks are..." He paused, apparently searching for the right word. "Hotter. You know. Black vinyl bustiers and high-heeled, thigh-high boots." His gaze was fixed on her chest, as if he were trying to work out whether she might be wearing a black vinyl bustier under her sweatshirt.
Rachel sighed and decided it was going to be a long day.
Etienne gave his office door a frustrated kick, then turned and paced to the refrigerator in his desk. He had already ingested four bags while examining the damage done to the door and seeing if he couldn't somehow fix it. It was looking like it would be an impossibility. Pudge had really done a number on it, and that combined with the high-tech security he had installed to keep his office theftproof were working against him. He also wished he'd been smart enough to turn on that high-tech security system Rachel had mentioned. Unfortunately, between trying to soothe Rachel's anger last night and making love to her, he'd forgotten to reactivate it after entry.
Etienne cursed his stupidity. He'd never really been worried about his home or his possessions, or even himself before. His work had been the only thing he had thought both valuable and vulnerable until now. He'd never been concerned about being attacked. The average house robber would have been in for an unpleasant surprise had he tried breaking into his home, especially it he had the temerity to attack him. Then too, the days of threat from vampire hunters were long over--or had been until Pudge. But Rachel was very valuable to Etienne, far more valuable than he had admitted to her. And thanks to his neglect, she was now in danger, and he was helpless.
Etienne had made his office into a sort of panic room--both human-and vampire-proof--since everything computer was surprisingly popular with vampires. Now Pudge had turned his high-tech panic room into a cage by ripping out his door panel. No one could get in or out without an acetylene torch to cut through the six-inch steel. Unfortunately, Etienne hadn't had the forethought to keep one in his office. He was stuck until Bastien and Lucern arrived. Hours from now. Hours during which anything could happen to Rachel.
Etienne glared at the thousands of dollars' worth of ruined equipment that used to make up his work station. If he could get some of it up and running again, he might be able to contact someone sooner. It was a longshot. Pudge had been thorough in his destruction. Still, it was better than sitting imagining all the horrible things that could happen to Rachel.
He grabbed another bag of blood from the fridge, noting absently that it was starting to grow warm. Apparently Pudge had managed to hit the fridge too. Still, it wasn't really a concern. He'd had enough blood already and didn't mind it a tad warm.
He set to work fiddling with his equipment.
"I am not biting Muffin." Rachel glared at Pudge as he dangled the small terrier before her. She couldn't even believe he would suggest it. The man was a sicko. Taking her earlier diplomatic silence as encouragement, Pudge had explained that he really wanted to be a vampire. He thought it would be cool to live forever and run the night with vamp chicks on his arm. He seemed to see himself as the star of his own B-grade vamp movie, his skinny, greasy geek persona being traded in for the debonair bad boy of the night.
As if being turned would somehow change his looks and personality too.
When Rachel had made a murmur she hoped he would take as encouragement rather than the derision it was, he had got quite animated, explaining that he had fantasized about this a lot since realizing Etienne was a vampire. One of his plans had been to finally kill Etienne, then scope the funeral, pick out a vamp chick--" 'cause you know, lots of 'em would probably attend his funeral"--then pick the one he liked best and bring her back to his pad. There she would go down on him and turn him by biting his--
Rachel had interrupted at that point to inform him that, if he expected or tried to force her to bite him there, he could think again. He'd tilted his head and said, "But I have the stake. I've got the power. You have to do what I say."
Rachel had narrowed her eyes on the little cockroach and calmly told him, "Yes. You have the stake and therefore the power--for now. But if you try to force me to bite you there, I'll bite it right off. Like blood chewing gum." She'd then forced an evil grin, hoping all the while that her face didn't reflect her nausea.
Judging by the way Pudge had paled and crossed his legs, Rachel assumed her warning was a suitable deterrent. He'd certainly stopped insisting she could bite and turn him, but he had also forced her to her feet and ordered her to lead the way to the basement.
At that point, Rachel had feared she might have gone too far and made herself useless, thus signing her own death warrant. However, he hadn't killed her. He had chained her to the walls of his basement. He really had been all set up to bring a "vamp chick" here to his home, and apparently hadn't expected her to be cooperative right away. Presumably, he thought he could change that with a little time. Perhaps he was counting on Stockholm syndrome or something to kick in and help with the matter.
Whatever the case, he'd ordered her to step up to the wall and snap the steel manacles around her ankles, thighs, waist, and neck. He'd approached carefully once she had, keeping the crossbow pointed at her chest, and affixed the ones around her shoulders and wrists. He'd then left her there and returned upstairs. Rachel had immediately set to work trying to escape her bonds, but these had been even thicker and stronger than the ones in the van, and he had affixed them to the wall so that she stood legs spread and arms out, which made it difficult to gain full strength.
She had still been struggling with them and cursing when the door to the upstairs had opened moments ago. He had returned below to dangle a small fluffy white terrier from its leash before her and sing out the word "dinner."
"I am not biting him," Rachel repeated now. Then, unable to watch the poor animal struggle and choke, she tugged uselessly at her manacles and snapped, "Put that poor animal down. You're choking him to death."
"But I have to feed you," he complained, but lowered the animal to the ground and wound his leash around the stair railing as he muttered, "How else are you going to learn to trust me?"
Rachel watched with interest as he muttered to himself. It seemed obvious to her that the man spent way too much time on his own. He was obviously quite used to doing so, as he mumbled, "It's just the neighbor's yappy dog. He's always taking a crap on my lawn, the little barker. I don't know why you can't just eat the damn thing and get it out of my hair. I--"
"I am not eating anyone's fluffy little house pet," Rachel interrupted his mind's meandering abruptly.
He glanced at her with interest. "How about a rat? I have them delivered every week for my snake, but--"
He paused when Rachel shuddered and shook her head. She was beyond commenting on this one. Eating rat? Dear God.
"Man, you're a fussy eater," he said with exasperation. "If I'd known you were going to be this much trouble--" His irritated words died as a chime sounded through the house.
Rachel glanced around, unsure what the sound was until Pudge moved to turn on a television that sat in the corner. An image of the front door of a house, presumably this one, immediately popped into view. Pudge was into hi-tech gizmos just like Etienne, Rachel realized as she peered at the potbellied behemoth in the beer T-shirt now leaning against the doorbell with one hand and pounding at the door with the other.
"My brother." Pudge sounded glum at first, then suddenly he brightened and turned to her. "You could feed on him. I don't really like him. And you wouldn't even have to turn him. He's a big bully pain in the butt anyway."
"I am not biting your brother," Rachel gasped, shocked at the very idea. Jeez, what did he think she was? His very own assassin sent to get rid of any creature who annoyed him? She had never bitten a real live person before and didn't intend to start now. Well, except for Etienne, of course, but that had been rather... er... intimate in nature. Different. She had no intention of starting to bite complete strangers.
"Well, you have to eat something." He was looking irritated again.
Rachel decided she had to put an end to this. "I'm not hungry. I'm not biting anyone. Or anything."
"Well, hell!" Apparently deciding not to deal with his brother if she wouldn't bite him, Pudge turned away from the TV screen and paced the room as his brother continued to ring and pound. Just when Rachel thought the racket was going to drive her bonkers, Pudge's bully brother gave up with one last kick at the door and moved out of camera shot.
Some of Pudge's tension left him when his brother gave up and went away. He stopped pacing and paused before what appeared to be a large metal coffin to sit on its lid, then stared at her with displeasure. Rachel was getting the feeling that she was a major disappointment as a vamp chick. Too bad she couldn't work up any regret over that, she thought, and finally took a look around the basement. She had only got a glance around on the way downstairs, and then she hadn't taken the time while she had been trying to free herself. Now she saw that it was a haven of cheesy vampire paraphernalia. Half of it appeared to be filled with weapons to kill vampires, the other half of things vampires might need: the coffin, a cape hanging from a hook, fake teeth on a counter, every book on vampires ever published. Rachel had an image in mind of him wearing the cape and fake fangs and pretending to be a vampire. She shook her head. The man really was cuckoo.
"So when will you get hungry? And what exactly will you eat, since you're so fussy?"
Rachel glanced back to her captor and decided to be honest in the hope that he would stop offering her his relatives and pets to feed on. "I'm a little hungry now, but I've never bitten anyone. I don't think I can."
He looked surprised at this admission. "Well then, how have you been feeding? You must have been feeding since Etienne turned you. That was more than two weeks ago. You--"
"Bagged blood," she interrupted.
"Bagged blood?" He looked shocked at the thought. "You mean cold bagged blood, like in the hospital?" When Rachel nodded, his face screwed up with disgust. "Ewwwww."
She rolled her eyes at his reaction. Apparently, he saw biting people as a better alternative to drinking blood like wine. Oh, he'd be a great vampire. One of those rogues Etienne had mentioned. She definitely wasn't ever biting him. Setting him loose on mankind would be a bad thing to do.
"Well, we're gonna change all that. You--" He paused in saying what she suspected was going to be something she didn't want to hear and glanced toward the television screen when the door chimes rang again. Rachel followed his irritated gaze to see a short, round little gray-haired lady there, shouting at the door as she pushed the doorbell and rapped her knuckles on the wood.
This time Pudge grabbed a remote and turned the volume up to hear what the woman was yelling. Her staccato words burst into the room full of indignant fury. "Open the door this instant, Norman Renberger. I know you're in there, and you have my Muffin! I saw you snatch him out of the backyard. You open the door this instant or I'm going right home to call the police."
"Shit," Pudge muttered and stood to stomp upstairs.
Rachel turned her attention back to the television, a little worried as she waited for Pudge to answer the door. He hadn't taken the dog with him and suspected this wasn't a good thing.
She saw the door open and Pudge smile an oily smile at the furious woman.
"Hello, Mrs. Craveshaw."
"Don't you hello me, Norman! Where is my Muffin?"
Rachel winced as Muffin heard his mistress's voice and began to bark. Pudge had left the stairway door open, and apparently the sound carried, for in the next moment Mrs. Craveshaw cried, "Muffin!" and shoved her way past Pudge into the house. She was immediately out of sight of the camera.
"Where is she? Where's my baby? Muffin? Muffin!" Now the voice wasn't coming from the television but from upstairs as the woman followed the sound of the barking. "Muffin!"
The voice had reached the top of the stairs and the woman filled the doorway. Her eyes lit up when she spotted Muffin leashed to the rail, barking like mad.
"Run! Call the police!" Rachel cried, but it was too late. The woman had eyes and ears only for her Muffin. She barreled down the stairs at breakneck speed, cursing at Pudge, who was following her. She had reached the bottom step and was trying to untangle the leash from the post when Pudge hit her over the head with the crossbow. The action launched the stake it was armed with. Rachel jerked and flinched to the side as it shot at her. Unfortunately, she had nowhere to go to escape the stake. Her manacles held her in place. She cried out in pain as the stake slammed into her heart.