Mia slumped forward. The chains wrapped around her wrist went taut with the motion, pulling her arms back and catching her before she hit the ground. Exhaustion plagued her. Sliding her knees on the cement, Mia inched her legs back until her feet hit the wall. She winced as each movement made a fresh tear in her jeans, the gritty cement cutting into her flesh.
A strange odor filtered in and the sound of a male voice—maybe two. Cracking open a swollen eye, she took in her surroundings while searching for the voices in the room. “Shit,” she whispered. The room appeared to be in an oversized basement. She hated basements. Mia’s gaze traveled up the plain brick walls. Spidery cracks crawled through cement in random sections of disrepair. She looked to the ceiling and back, noting the distance. Maybe she was in a warehouse. God, she hoped it wasn’t a basement. Only bad, creepy things happened in basements. The smell in the room thickened, and Mia breathed deeply through her nose, encouraging her brain to recognize the odor in the room. Her right nostril had clogged with dry blood, and her body hurt to the bone. A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. She didn’t intend to go down easy. The proof was in the way her body ached and the vampire blood splattered across her jeans. Fledglings, they were an easy target for her now that she knew how to pick them out from the stronger vamps. It was in the outer crest of their auras—the brighter the ring, the stronger the vamp.
Mia focused her gaze in the direction of the voices. Two men stood across the room hovering over a stainless steel worktable with a stove on one side and a body on the other end. Squinting, she focused on their auras. A metallic crest appeared with bright outer bands, proving what they were, and how powerful. Vamps. Strong ones. She followed their movements with a trained gaze. One of them dipped a ladle inside of a big pot. Mia closed her eyes to hone in on their words. She could distinguish each voice, and even caught each one’s name.
“What I wouldn’t give for a fat slice of capicola,” Paulie said, sniffing the contents of the pot as he stirred.
“You should have fed this fat fuck a slice before we drained him if you wanted it that bad.” Sal slammed a small ax into what looked like Detective Cramer, but she wasn’t sure. She hadn’t seen him since he had outed as a traitor at the hunt club. Picking up a small piece of flesh, Sal squeezed it over the pot.
“Oh! Enough.” Paulie placed a protective arm over the top of the pot.
“What? I was addin’ to it.”
“Don’t mess with the gravy. Do you know how long I’ve been stirring this batch to perfection?”
“You and the fuckin’ gravy.”
“You’re not complaining when you’re eating it, Sal, you Guinea bastard. Stop bustin’ my balls.” Paulie dropped a handful of garlic, sliced paper-thin, into the pot of simmering liquid.
“Yo, there’s no need for all that. I’m just sayin’, you’re obsessed with the fucking gravy. You’re the only guy I know who killed his own motha’ for her gravy recipe.”
“What? She was dying anyway.” Paulie traced a cross on his chest and kissed his fingers. “God rest her soul.”
“What d’ya mean, God rest her soul? You turned her into one of us.”
“Yeah, but she’s still dead.” He shrugged. “Technically.”
Despite her situation, Mia made a noise of amusement. She wasn’t sure which was funnier: two Italian vampires, or the fact they were fighting over sauce. Wait... “I thought vampires didn’t like garlic?” Stretching her aching muscles, she pulled herself onto her knees. The pungent aroma of garlic mixed with iron stung her nose. She wrinkled it to block the horrid smell.
“Look who’s up.” Sal nudged Paulie’s arm and jerked his head toward Mia.
“We’re still Italian. Dead or not, you can’t make gravy without garlic.” Paulie scooped a ladle full of sauce and walked over to Mia. “Here, taste.” He bent down, placing one hand under the dripping utensil as he moved it toward her mouth.
The red liquid pooled in his hand, and Mia tightened her lips at the sight of it, jerking her head back simultaneously. Her eyes darted from the garlic-infested blood back to Paulie’s eyes. He moved toward her with a determined gaze, and she scooted backward, scratching her ripped jeans against the floor. He continued his approach until her toes hit the wall, followed by her back. She flatted herself against the surface, the chill of the brick soaking into her. She only knew the taste of her own blood and had no intention of drinking what was in front of her. She cursed herself for not taking Cole’s blood the several times he’d offered. If she had, she might not be in this mess. For now, she intended to stay a blood-drinking virgin.
“Sal, come over here and help her open her mouth.” A grin stretched across his face.
“Why don’t we just make a new mouth?” Sal grabbed a large butcher knife from the magnetic strip above Cramer’s discarded body and turned toward Mia. She quickly looked past Paulie. Peering over his shoulder, Mia focused on the stove where the pot of sauce stewed. Gathering what little strength she had left, she focused on the stove’s knob. Once she was sure her mind wrapped tightly around the object, she turned it.
Sal grabbed Mia by the back of her head and tilted her face toward him. She searched his pitted face, locking her gaze into his cold, black eyes. “It’s rude to turn down food. Paulie works hard on his gravy, and you’ve hurt his feelings. You can either open your mouth”—Sal paused and placed the tip of the blade against her cheek—“or I’ll cut you. It’s that simple.”
“Vincent isn’t going to like you playing with his toy.” A female voice filled the room.
Sal dropped his hand. Resting his forearm on his knee, he looked over his shoulder. “We’re just having a little fun. Don’t get your fangs in a twist.”
“What’s that noise?” Paulie turned toward the woman descending the stairs. The sound of clacking metal bounced off the cold walls. When she shrugged, he continued his search for the sound. His gaze glanced over the stove and then sliced back as his mind registered the pot dancing on the burner. Steam trailed up from the pot as it rattled, popped, and spit the blood gravy onto the stovetop. “My gravy!” Paulie reached out and lodged his fist into Sal’s face.
“You mutha’ fucker. You don’t hit me. No one hits me.” Sal tackled him, and they rolled against Mia, slamming her back against the wall.
“You ruined the gravy.”
“I didn’t touch your fuckin’ gravy!” Sal yelled, punching him in the gut. “What’s the matta’ with you?” Paulie took the hit and stared at Sal. “C’mon, you wanted a piece of me. Now hit me back.”
“If you didn’t touch the gravy, who did?” They looked toward Mary who stood in front of the corpse. She held her long, black hair away from her face as she bent and licked the blood from the lifeless arm on the table. Raising her head, she licked her lips. “Mmm, God that’s good.” Her gaze shifted to the two men frozen in a wrestling hold. “What?” She slid a finger over her bottom lip, collecting the blood pooling on the ridge and scooping it into her mouth. “I didn’t touch your sauce, Paulie. When you boys are done, Vincent wants us. Upstairs. Now.” She walked toward the staircase at the far corner of the room.
“It’s gravy!” Paulie yelled, and she waved a dismissing hand in the air. Paulie turned to Sal. “She just called my gravy, sauce.”
Sal stood. Offering a truce, he reached a hand to Paulie, pulled him to his feet, and patted the back of his shoulder. “She probably used that shit in a jar they call sauce when she had a heartbeat. It doesn’t compare to your gravy. C’mon. Let’s go see what the boss wants.”
Mia shifted, scanning the room. Her gaze fell upon the corpse. “Cramer,” she whispered.
“Yeah.”
“Holy shit!” She jumped. Jerking her body to the right, she peered at the faint figure sitting next to her. Once her eyes adjusted, she kicked it. “You asshole. I sat by your wife’s grave every night at the funeral home—I told you I would help find out what happened to her, but you sold me out! You’re the law! You were supposed to help protect me, instead you’re helping Vincent. Traitor! You…”
Cramer leaned against the wall, lowering his head. “I know.” He stood and walked over to his mutilated body, scrunching his face in disgust. “I’m still alive, barely. I can feel a tiny strain of energy left.” He looked over his shoulder at Mia. “That’s one of the bad things about being a vampire. I felt every slice of the knife—every stab.” He returned his gaze to his lifeless body. “And now, I’m just waiting to shrivel as the last of my blood drains from my body. It won’t be long now, Mia.”
He put his hand on the arm of his former shell and slid it down to the hand. “I’ve worn this wedding ring every day since she died. I just wanted to know what happened to her. Why?”
“What are you talking about?”
“They told me if I brought you to them, they’d tell me what happened to my wife. It’s consumed me for so long, driving me off the path of being a good cop. I had to know. That’s what drove me to do what I did at the hunt club and compelled me to help Vincent Tino find you after.”
“You sold me out to find out how your wife died in the car accident?” Mia thought back for a minute, Cramer didn’t think his wife’s death was an accident. He’d discovered fang marks on her body, and that was why he chose to become a vampire. Once eternity was on his side, he had hoped he would one day find out the truth.
Cramer sighed. “I made the call and gave them your location at the graveyard. I knew you and Cole were there because I followed you. Once I did it, I wanted to take it back.”
“Was it worth it?”
“No. I still don’t know what happened. I came here to save you”—he glanced at Mia and then back to his corpse—“and I failed. I’m sorry. I’m not much good to you. I’m between life and death—in twilight. This form is new to me, and I don’t know how to use it.”
“Thank you for trying, Cramer.”
“What?” He gaped at her in surprise.
“You loved your wife deeply. I can’t hate you for that. You tried to save me in the end, right?” Hopeless tears pooled in her eyes.
“No. Don’t do that, Mia. Listen to me. They’re going to do something to you. They want Cole. In fact, they have someone distracting him right now to buy them more time with you. You have to stay strong. Fight.”
“What do they want to do to me?”
“I heard them talk about several things. I’m not sure, but—”
“What? What are they going to do?”
“There was talk about turning you. Then you’d be Vincent’s. You could never be with Cole, and if Vincent commanded you to kill him, you’d have to try. Although, you wouldn’t win unless Cole allowed you to kill him.”
“Me? Kill Cole?” Mia had kept the fear at bay, now it crept up her skin and embedded itself in her heart. “Is that everything you heard?”
“That was just one of their ideas. Believe me when I tell you, they’ll choose whichever they feel will torture Cole the most.” He turned his head at the sound of footsteps above them. “I’m going to try to find Cole, Mia. Can I ask you for a favor–not that I deserve one?”
“Ask away.”
“If you get out of here, can you take my wedding ring and bury it with my wife?”
Mia offered a sorrowful smile. “Yes, but, you have to do me a favor.”
“Anything, Mia.”
“Promise me you won’t go to Cole. I could never kill him, even if commanded to. And you know as well as I do, he’d walk into death with open arms for me. But this? I don’t want to watch him die, especially by my own hand. I know he’d feel the same about killing me.”
“Deal.” Cramer went to the ring. “Do you know how to get this off? I want to try to hide it before they destroy it.”
“Um, try focusing all your energy to your finger, then push on it. That’s how I try to do it with my mind.”
Cramer tried once and the ring moved. He jerked his head toward the ceiling. “Shit. Someone’s coming.” He tried again, poking the ring several times until it fell to the floor. The voice from above became louder. “Hurry, Mia. Help me hide it. I don’t have much time in this form. When there is no blood left in my body, I’ll truly be dead.”
“Got it.” Mia’s head tilted down. She grabbed the metal with her mind, flipped it upright, and rolled it toward her. She fought against her chained hands until her fingers wrapped around the ring. Rolling on to her knees, she shoved the ring into her back pocket and then looked up into Cramer’s stare.
He hovered inches from her face. “Thank you, Mia.” A smile stretched across his face and then quickly faded. “I will do my best to save you. To right what I have wronged…”
“Cramer?” His image glitched and faded. “Cramer!” Her gaze flicked to his corpse, waiting to see it shrivel but it stayed solid. With one final flash, his form disappeared through the wall. “Cramer!”