Dominion of the Damned (9 page)

The door opened, and the janitor stuck his head in. He bowed his head deferentially when he saw Esme, fixing his gaze on the floor. “You called for a clean-up?”

“Yes. Come inside.” She crossed her legs, slowly, and smiled. “Lock the door.” He faltered at the second command, but he did as he was told. He was a fine specimen. Celine knew Esme too well. This one was blond and athletic, clearly still in his prime. Esme inhaled his scent, which told her he was in perfect health. Everything about him was delicious. As he bent over to sweep up shards of glass, she took a sweet moment to enjoy the view before saying, “That can wait. What’s your name?”

He stood up and looked at her, clearly disconcerted by her attention. His heart sped up and a wash of adrenaline filled Esme’s nose and inflamed her hunger. But she had to give him credit for keeping the fear off of his face.

“Doug,” he said. “Doug Worthman.”

“How lovely to meet you, Doug.” She started toying with the buttons of her blouse, unbuttoning it little by little. “I have another little problem you can help me with.”

His face lost the battle it was fighting and betrayed a flicker of fear. He licked his lips, but it clearly wasn’t out of desire. “I…”

“You have nothing to fear, Douglas. I promise, I’ll make it worth your while. Do me this little favor, and I’ll do you one in return. There must be something you want.” She traced a finger over the curve of her breast, and gave him a coy smile. “Besides me.”

He hesitated before crossing over to her, and kept his eyes on the floor. She cooled it with the buttons. No point if he wouldn’t even look at her. “I… I have a daughter,” he said. “It’s been over a month since I’ve seen her, and I’m not scheduled to see her again for another two weeks. But tomorrow’s her birthday, and I was hoping... do you think you could arrange for me to spend the day with her?”

“I don’t know. That depends. I can probably be talked into it, if I’m in a really good mood.”

He glanced up at her, just long enough for her to see a flash of humiliation in his eyes, and nodded. He unsnapped the top of his jumpsuit.

With a sigh, Esme got up. She sashayed around the desk, undoing the rest of her blouse as she went. She took his hand and brought it to her lips, sliding a finger seductively into her mouth. Her tongue felt his pulse quicken through his fingertip. She guided his hand to her breast, unblemished by stretch marks, untouched by gravity. This time when he licked his lips, it betrayed hunger, despite his fear and humiliation. His arousal made itself known through the fabric of his jumpsuit. “Is it really so bad, this arrangement of ours?” she asked as she slid her blouse from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

He shook his head, already too consumed by lust to form words, and his arms slipped around her waist, crushing her to him as his mouth ravaged her. He was beautiful. His boyish face, almost too pretty for a man, had been carved by time and worry into the very image of masculine character. His physique was well sculpted and strong. He was perfect.

Yanking her skirt up, he gripped her hips and lifted her onto the desk. He groaned her name as he pushed inside her, and she offered him a moan of encouragement. She lay back and let him take his pleasure, as much as he wanted. Once he was sated and pliable, it was her turn.

Her fangs slid through his skin like butter, and molten copper flooded her mouth and warmed the back of her throat. The warming sensation continued into her stomach and spread through her limbs, making her feel flush with new life. It was such a change from the cold, lifeless rations on which they’d been forced to subsist. Drinking blood from bags, extracted through a tube and stored away in the cold, was like living on bread and water. It filled their bellies and took the edge off of their hunger, but it was bland and tasteless, with none of the nutrients that helped them thrive. But this, unfiltered and straight from the tap, was like a steak and lobster feast in comparison. She felt his adrenaline flow through her, and it only made her want more. She held tight and clamped down as he emptied himself into her in more ways than one.

Not until she had to suck to keep the blood flowing did she realize what she’d done. She released him, but it was already too late. His pulse had faded to a barely perceptible flutter, and his breath came in wheezing gasps. “Shit,” she muttered, unable to believe she’d lost control like that. Furious with herself, she shoved him off of her and stormed into the adjoining office, the one she used as a bed chamber, to get dressed. She knew what she had to do, and she had to do it fast.

Siring him wasn’t an option. Once upon a time, she’d have considered it. He was a good lover, and she thought he’d make a fine companion if he could be made to forget about his little brat. But those days were over, and turning him would be as incriminating as leaving his exsanguinated corpse in her office to be found. Either way, everyone would know she’d been double-dipping from the community well, something that could get her just as irreversibly dead as he was about to be if it got back to her superiors.

She exchanged what was left of her suit for a pair of black jeans and a black hooded sweater. Black, knee-high boots and leather gloves ensured that none of her skin was left exposed, and a muffler and a pair of sunglasses would protect her face. Once she was dressed, she went back into her office and crossed to the door to make sure there were no witnesses.

It was past dawn, and most of the staff would be sleeping. Either that, or indulging in their own illegal dalliances. She knew she was hardly the only one who took advantage of human desperation; but just because others did it, too, didn’t mean they wouldn’t turn her in in a heartbeat, either because they wanted her job or they wanted to curry favor with the High Council for other reasons.

Esme took her master key card from the desk, picked up her broken toy and slung him over her shoulder. She hurried down the hall to the stairwell, thankful for the rubber soles of her boots that muffled her footsteps. She carried him up to the top floor, where the children were kept. They were on the opposite end, though, and this part of the prison should be deserted. It was unlikely that any of the human inhabitants would look up and see her, but if they did, fear would keep them silent. Besides, she’d be so wrapped up that they wouldn’t recognize her.

She set him down at the top of the stairwell. She raised her hood and wrapped the muffler protectively around her face, then put on the sunglasses. Once she was covered, she hefted him up and opened the door. Daylight spilled through the windows. The clouds and her clothing would buy her some time, but they wouldn’t protect her forever. She had to work fast. She found the catwalk that led out to the guard tower, and crossed it with swift, sure feet.

Once in the tower, she looked down at the throng of walking, rotting meat that pressed inanely against the wall, as if it would eventually just open up and let them come right in. Alek thought they might be related to those things somehow, distant cousins bound by mutated strains of the same virus. But Alek was often full of shit, and she found the idea nothing less than insulting. She had nothing in common with those disgusting, brainless meat bags except the ability to keep walking without a heartbeat. But as much as she despised them, they did sometimes have their uses, not the least of which was finally forcing humanity to acknowledge its proper place on the food chain.

She opened a window. It didn’t open wide, but it would do. She hauled up her baggage, and as she did he let out a weak moan. She almost didn’t hear it, drowned out as it was by the mindless groaning of the horde below. She was surprised that he was still alive. She’d thought he’d surely be dead by now. He worked his mouth in a silent plea, and she sighed. “Sorry,” she told him. “Don’t worry about your daughter. I’ll make sure she gets some cake.”

She had to force him through the window, and her muffler came loose in the struggle. She fell back with a scream as the skin on her face boiled. Undeterred, she secured the muffler and gave him another shove. He went through that time. The horde tore him to pieces before he even touched the ground.

With her work finished, she fled back across the catwalk, through the hall and into the stairwell. Only after the door closed and shut out the last rays of daylight did she remove her muffler. She also pulled off a glove and gingerly touched a finger to her burns, sucking air through her teeth as pain lit up her face. At least it would heal quickly, since she was still strong with fresh blood. By the time anyone saw her there would be no trace left of her transgression.

With the deed done, Esme closed her eyes and let herself revel in the satisfied feeling that washed through her body. She felt strong and alive. The only thing that could make it better would be someone to share this feeling with.

A scream interrupted her revelry, and her eyes snapped open. “What now?” she muttered as she followed the sound to investigate.

NINE

Beyond the door was another hallway, with more doors like the one she’d just come through. Hannah guessed that these were the administrative offices. An exit sign flickered at the other end of the hall, but she suspected that the exit would be guarded. Even if it wasn’t, she wouldn’t make it very far outside without any weapons. It didn’t matter, anyway. She wasn’t about to leave without her brother.

One of these rooms might have a map of the prison layout. If she could find that, she’d know right where to go; but none of the doors had windows, and it was impossible to tell if the rooms were occupied. She had no chance if she walked in on a vampire and gave herself away.

Behind her, the lock on the door clicked open. Frantically, she scanned the hallway for a place to hide, and spotted a door to a stairwell. She let herself through just as the other door started to open. At the top of the first flight, she paused and waited. When no one entered behind her, she leaned over the railing and looked up. There were at least five more flights of stairs. If she could get to a window up there, she might be able to get a better idea of the prison’s layout. She started to climb.

Halfway through the fourth flight, she wished she’d done more to stay in shape all those months in the shelter. She forced herself to keep going. By the time she reached the top, she had to lean over and brace her hands against her knees while she caught her breath. When she felt steady again, she tried the stolen key card on the door. It opened.

Hannah stepped out into a short corridor that led to a barred doorway. It was open. Beyond it she found a wide catwalk that wrapped all the way around a massive room and overlooked rows and rows of cells stacked several stories high. All of them were empty. Large, barred windows lined each wall, filling the place with sunlight and casting barred shadows on the floor. Her footsteps echoed through the chamber as she approached the nearest window.

It looked out over the prison yard and the surrounding wall. The guard towers appeared to be unmanned. From this height, Hannah could see over the wall, and what she saw made her gasp. A writhing crowd pressed against the outside of the wall. It was at least a hundred bodies deep and stretched the entire length of the prison wall that Hannah was able to see. From that height, they could easily be mistaken for human, except for the way they pressed up against each other with the single-minded purpose of getting through the wall. Hannah swallowed. Even if she somehow managed to find Noah and arm herself and escape, she couldn’t possibly get through that.

She started to turn away from the window when something caught the corner of her eye. She turned back to see someone crossing the catwalk that led out to the first guard tower. They were dressed head to toe in black, not baring an inch of skin. Even their face was covered. What disturbed Hannah was what they carried. Draped over the person’s shoulder in a fireman’s carry was a man in an orange jumpsuit, either unconscious or dead.

The figure in black carried him to the guard tower, and opened a window on the side overlooking the horde. Hannah covered her mouth with both hands and turned away as she realized what was about to happen. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she felt sick. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply to steady herself. She had to find Noah, to make sure he was okay. And somehow, she had to find a way to get them out of this place.

She opened her eyes and retraced her steps, crossing to the set of windows on the other side of the cell block. She passed the barred door that led back to the stairwell, and kept going until she heard a second set of footsteps echoing behind her. Hannah stopped and turned around. Behind her stood the guard from downstairs, the crude one who had leered at her. Just like he was leering now.

He grinned. “Well, here’s a little lost lamb that got separated from the herd. What am I gonna do with you, little lamb?” He took a step toward her, and Hannah stepped back. His grinning face turned menacing. “I told you I was gonna get a taste of you.” As he spoke, his canine teeth extended into sharp fangs. Hannah turned to run, but he was on her before she could take a step. He held her from behind, clamping a hand over her mouth. He brushed her hair away from her neck and licked the pulse point under her jaw. She shuddered, but not with pleasure.

“Do you have any idea how deprived we are?” He spoke into her ear. His breath, like his touch, was cold, and smelled like copper. “You humans, you have it great. We have to take good care of you. You’re well fed, and you get to screw each other whenever you want, while the rest of us are on cold rations and expected to keep it in our pants.” His left hand released her for a moment. Hannah went cold as she heard the sound of a zipper coming undone. No. This was
not
going to happen.