“Forgive me, Andre, if I have done something to cause you to doubt me,” she said gently, compassion welling up so that she wanted to cry. She could not save him, even if she did not belong with Mikhail. No one could. He was far too depraved and bloated with his false sense of power, far too addicted to the adrenaline in a terror-stricken kill. She hated herself for deceiving him, but her life and the lives of the human couple clearly hung in the balance.
His hand stroked her silky hair. “I am not angry with you, my dear, but you are weak and need nourishment.”
The woman stiffened, her face a mask of fear. She stayed very still, waiting for Raven’s reply. Raven looked confused. “But I can’t feed.” Deliberately she allowed Mikhail’s name to shimmer in her mind, and then she was clutching her head in agony. “I don’t know why; I can’t think. I think the other did something to make me this way.”
Andre dragged the woman up by her hair. “I will return in a few minutes. You see to it Raven comes to no harm.” His eyes were flat and cold. “Do not try to leave this place. I will know.”
“Andre, stay,” Raven whispered, fighting for him in spite of herself.
He swung away from her and sped out, away from the light, back toward the world of death and madness he was familiar with.
The woman clutched at Raven. “Please, let us go. He is evil; he will kill us, make us his slaves until our fear no longer amuses him.”
Raven pushed herself upright, desperately fighting dizziness. “He will know. He can see in the dark, smell you, hear your very heart beat.” The room was so cold and musty smelling, so depressing. The air itself was stale and told of death. With Raven’s sensitivity she could almost hear the screams of the countless victims who had been brought to this place, chained to the stained walls. She was every bit as frightened as the human woman was. “Who are you?”
“Monique Chancellor. That is my husband, Alexander. Why did you help me?”
“Guard your thoughts, Monique. He can read them.”
“He is nosferatu unclean. The vampire.” It was more of a statement than a question. “We must leave this place of death.”
Raven rose unsteadily to her feet, hanging on to the back of the chair, the table, to make her way to the door. She stared up at the stars, gazed slowly over the landscape in each direction, taking note of every rock wall, the cliffs rising behind the house. She studied the dwelling itself, the windows, the doors, the structures of the walls, paid particular attention to the wide open spaces leading to the house.
“Please, please.” The woman clawed at her. “Help us.”
Raven blinked to bring her into focus. “I’m trying to help you. Stay calm; keep out of his way. Draw as little attention to yourselves as possible.” She closed the door, having accomplished what she had hoped to do. Mikhail and Gregori would know as much detailed information as she could transmit.
“Who are you?” Alexander demanded suspiciously. He had pulled at his chains so much, she could see his wrists were raw.
Raven rubbed her pounding temple, a growing nausea gripping her stomach. “It isn’t a good idea to have open wounds around him.” She could smell blood and her body, desperately weak, needed nourishment. Raven ignored the woman sobbing quietly in a corner and went to the man to see if she could find a way to ease his discomfort. As she bent to examine his wrist, his other hand whipped up to clutch a handful of her hair, yanking hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. He dragged her back against his chest so that both hands could grip her throat, fingers digging into soft flesh.
“Alexander, stop, what are you doing?” Monique cried.
“Monique, get the key to these cuffs,” Alexander ordered, his powerful fingers crushing Raven’s windpipe so that the room began to spin.
Raven could feel his fear, his frantic attempt to save his wife and himself. He was afraid she was a vampire, cruelly playing with them for some perverse enjoyment. Raven couldn’t blame him, but his hands were squeezing the life out of her.