Wicked Soul (Ancient Blood #1)
Nora Ash
1
“Ow, what’s wrong with you?” I aimed a futile kick at the burly guy manhandling me out of the back of the white van he’d tossed me in a good twenty minutes earlier.
A smarter girl would probably have been terrified at being kidnapped off the street, but I was mainly just furious.
“Let go of me, you goddamn fanatic!”
Then again, most girls didn’t get tossed into the back of cross-riddled vans for their choice in reading material. Somehow, even as the big goon wrenched my bound hands up high behind my back and shoved me through the door of a house somewhere in the bad part of Chicago’s suburbs, part of me still thought it was all some horrible joke. Any minute now, an over-excited TV host would jump out with a bunch of cameras and tell me I’d been pranked. Haha.
I looked around the inside of the house. There wasn’t any light apart from the little that managed to seep in through the dirty windows, but from what I could see of the room we were in, no one had lived here for a very long time. There was no furniture, apart from a broken couch and a tipped-over coffee table in the far corner of the room, and both walls and flooring looked like they were rotting away.
“Time to learn what happens to filthy little vamp sluts,” the guy who’d been driving the van sneered as he closed the door behind us.
“Jesus, the state of public education is as bad as the Internet says, huh? I swear to you, reading a paranormal romance novel is not the same as actually banging a vampire.”
Yup, that was what had gotten me kidnapped
Reading a sexy vampire book at a cafe, minding my own business. I swear, this sort of thing could only happen to me.
“Shut your mouth, bitch,” the goon behind me growled, giving me a hard shove that had me stumbling across the floor and face-planting against a heavy, wooden door. “Don’t you dare take the Lord’s name in vain!”
Okay, so not a game show then. I swallowed a whimper of pain when he yanked me away from the door by a grip on my ponytail so he could unlock and open it.
I was pretty sure, despite the sorry state of American TV these days, that no candid camera would get away with physically abusing its unsuspecting contestants. The acrid taste of true fear burned in my throat when realization of how bad my situation truly was finally set in.
I gritted my teeth against the swell of panic in my chest when the newly opened door revealed a dark, narrow staircase leading down below ground level. I tried to throw myself back and away from the gaping chasm of darkness in front of me, but it was useless. My kidnappers simply gave me a shove between the shoulder blades, and thanks to my bound wrists, I didn’t have any means of resisting.
Squealing, I stumbled down the stairs, only narrowly managing to keep on my feet, until I smacked up against another door, this one made of solid metal. Face first. Again.
The goon and his accomplice were right behind me, and a second later, I was shoved through yet another door. Pale light illuminated the walls of a large, concrete room. I stared open-mouthed at the many odd-looking weapons lining the walls—wooden stakes, crossbows, scary-looking knives. And among them, crosses and long metal chains of varying thicknesses. Just what the hell sort of place was this?
“The sun sets in two hours, deadwhore. If I were you, I’d spend that time praying for forgiveness,” my kidnapper sneered. He pulled a knife and sliced through the zip-ties binding my wrists, then pointed at the far end of the room. “Get in.”
I followed his finger with my eyes and saw a large, metal cage half-hidden behind a pile of junk. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who the fuck had a cage in their basement? Just how many girls did they force into their little rape-cave because of their taste in smutty literature?
My frozen silence was met with a gentle, yet unmistakably threatening poke of a knife’s point against the back of my neck.
“In.”
Slowly, I forced my feet to move toward the cage where the other guy was holding the cell door open for me. How fucking gallant.
I glared at him as he swung the gate shut with a clang, locking it behind me and taking a step back.
“How long do you plan on keeping me in here?” I demanded, feeling oddly relieved to have bars between us. It was an illusion of safety, of course, since they held the keys, but it was enough for me to find some of my anger again. And anger felt a lot better than fear.
“Oh, just for a couple of hours,” the driver said, a cruel smirk on his face. “If you get bored, you can always see if you can wake up your new friend.”
He nodded at something behind me, and I turned halfway around to see what the hell the crazy old goat was referring to.
And that was when I realized I wasn’t alone in the cage.
A dark-haired young man who looked like he was in his early twenties sat cross-legged at the back of the cage on the bare concrete floor. His eyes were closed and he wasn’t moving a muscle, a serene look on his face as if he was meditating or something.
Outraged, I spun back around to my kidnappers. “Great, so now you kidnap college kids? What did he do, watch Van Helsing? You sick fucks!”
Both men laughed, and I felt like I was missing some twisted joke. “Start begging God for forgiveness. You don’t have much time left.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I snapped, but they didn’t answer me. Instead they turned around and left the room, the heavy metal door closing behind them. The keys rattled in the lock from the other side, and then I was alone with the meditating college kid.
I cussed and turned around, leaning heavily against the metal bars. What the hell sort of crazy whack jobs kidnapped people off the streets and locked them in their creepy basement?
I looked at the kid—or guy. A possibly twenty-one-year-old would likely take umbrage with being called a kid.
He still hadn’t so much as cracked open an eyelid at the commotion of getting a new cellmate.
I pinched my lips in a disapproving frown. Nice to see that someone could keep their cool while being locked up by crazies. “Hey, hello?”
Not even a muscle spasm to indicate he’d heard me.
Was he in some sort of trance? Or was he just a complete asshole? I knelt down on the concrete in front of him so my face was less than five inches from his and stared intently at him. “Hello?”
Still no response.
I blew in his face. Perhaps not the most mature thing I could have done, but his complete lack of interest in my existence was just the tipping point. I’d just been kidnapped and manhandled, and he couldn’t even take a break from being all hipster-zen? Hello, damsel in distress here!
A groan slipped past his full lips as he opened a single eye to a narrow slit.
“Don’t… do that.” It was hardly more than a whisper, and his eyelid immediately closed again.