Fleur Di Lis

Chapter Twenty-Six

When I came to, I realised that I wasn't in the hotel room anymore.

I was sitting in what looked like a dimly-lit, abandoned warehouse; my hands secured behind my back with cable ties and my hair sticking to the side of my face. Whether it was blood or sweat that attached it there, I didn't know and, honestly, I wasn't that interested in finding out. What I was more interested in was finding out where the hell I was and, more importantly, where Nate and the others were.

Were they okay?

Were they alive?

I let out a small expletive in agony as my wrist twisted against my restraint, causing it to dig further into my skin. Clearly, whoever fastened these to my wrists didn't care much about allowing circulation to my hands. I lifted my head and squinted my eyes in a vain attempt to figure out where the fuck I was. The warehouse seemed to go on forever, and seemed to get darker the further it went. Large cargo boxes and cages seemed to occupy most of the space, and the stench of rotting blood and sweat made my stomach churn uncomfortably, alongside the disturbing thought that I already knew where I was.

And, if I was right, then I was truly fucked.

And, more disturbingly, so were the others.

"Hello?" I croaked. Clearing my throat, I tried again. "Hello? Is anybody there?"

"Nicki?"

I almost cried out with relief at the familiar sound of Rik's voice, weak and brittle as it was. A lump formed in my throat as raw emotion hit me with the force akin to a wrecking ball.  He was alive; that was enough for me. It also confirmed where I was; Piety Street Wharf.  Which meant that Bax had caught up with us, and likely chances were that Nate and the rest of them hadn't fared as well as I had at this moment. I'd be surprised if they'd been left alive.

Quite frankly, I was just happy that Rik was still alive and kicking.

"Rik! Oh, God am I glad to hear your voice!"

"If this is your idea of a rescue mission, then I'm screwed."

I let out a small laugh, the sound catching in my throat and making it sound like a sob. Even on his damn death bed, he was still a wise-ass. My eyes stung as tears threatened to spill, realising that I was now in this situation potentially with no backup. This rescue mission couldn't have gotten any worse if it tried. "Oh, believe me, I'm on it." I paused. "How you doing in there, bud?"

"Oh, peachy," Rik replied drily. "Five-star treatment; giving me three square meals a day and complimentary beatings to keep me on my toes. Think I'm in the running for the most bones broken and re-mended in the space of a day."

I winced, then a disturbing thought entered my head.  "Do they give you something after the beatings?"

"Yeah, some kind of drink. Tastes like shit, but it takes away the pain. It's what I look forward to every time."

My stomach dropped. They're dosing him up with vampire blood after every beating; just enough to heal his broken bones. I wondered, for a brief moment, if he still had vampire blood in his system right now.

If he did, I could use it to my advantage and --

"Oh, good - you're awake."

The sound of Baxter's voice interrupted my reverie. Furious rage burned inside me hot and thick as Bax swaggered down the length of the hangar towards me, accompanied by two burly men on either side of him; one of them looked oddly familiar. As they neared me, I realised the one on the left was the same asshole that I'd decked outside the nightclub in New York.