Page 162 of Vampire's Choice
Maddock and she exchanged a look, and Lyssa shook her head. “I don’t sense any. Not yet. But the warning sign should be heeded.”
“Agreed.”
Thanks to Daegan’s tracking abilities, they did find a deer trail in short order. They could have used magic to open up a path, but such signatures were like sending smoke into a daylight sky. With the level that had been in play on the island, there was no way of knowing if eyes were already upon them or not, but playing it safe made sense. While Merc was tempted to take to the air, he kept his wing cloaking in place, mindful of Ruth’s suggestion.
When they were within a mile of the proposed location, Mason and Lyssa came to an abrupt stop. One of Lyssa’s hands landed on Jacob’s arm, the other on Mason’s. Their fingers twined together.
“What?” Maddock whispered.
“We can feel Kane and Farida,” Lyssa said, her voice tight. “But we’re being blocked from communicating. Both of us.”
“I can feel Kane like he’s next to me,” Jacob added, “but it’s like his mind is gagged.”
“Trads can’t do this,” Lyssa said, low. Her eyes took on a killer’s flatness. “Let’s keep going.”
Mason and Lyssa continued, side by side, Jacob to Lyssa’s left. Without direction, the rest spread out. Being experienced hunters or fighters, they knew what was required.
At the half-mile mark, Merc detected the Trad vampires, as well as other aromas associated with a camp. Maddock had cloaked all of them, but when they were within a hundred yards and starting to see buildings through the thinning trees, a tinny voice echoed through them. Someone was using a megaphone.
“Lady Lyssa, is that you? Did you accept our hospitality, or did you and Lord Mason send lackeys? For your children’s sake, I hope you came yourselves.”
“Only a magic user like me could have detected the cloak,” Maddock muttered to Merc. But obviously the speaker didn’t know how many—or who—it contained.
Maddock moved to Lyssa and murmured to her. She glanced at Mason and Jacob, and the three of them proceeded forward. Merc, Maddock, Daegan and Gideon melted into the forest again, taking different points of the perimeter.
By the time Lyssa, Mason and Jacob came out of the trees, Merc had found a tall pine with an optimal view of the camp. He also Lyssa stiffen and pause, and followed her gaze to the cause.
A fucking guillotine. It had been set up in the center of the small compound, which included a cabin and several tents. The frame of the guillotine was polished wood, the blade new and sharp, gleaming from the camp lights that illuminated the night.
Kane, Lyssa’s son, was suspended from a frame of recently cut wood, positioned several feet above a bed of wooden stakes. His arms and legs were pulled out to either side. Farida was next to him on the same type of device.
Merc studied the cables and weights holding them in place. Being familiar with the Circus’s methods of taking things quickly into the air or dropping them in front of a surprised audience, he recognized the far more diabolical purpose. A lever would activate the system, which would drop counterweights, aiding gravity by increasing the speed and force at which the frame would drop. With its vampire occupant.
Two vampires wearing cargo pants, T-shirts and hiking boots stood by those levers, gripping them firmly. If they were attacked, the levers would go down with them.
The guillotine may have been the first thing she’d seen, but as soon as their children came into view, Lyssa and Mason’s attention locked upon them.
The teens had been suspended for far too long, weight pulling against shoulders, back and hips. One of Kane’s shoulders had dislocated, probably because he’d struggled against his bonds. The joint was swollen, his face taut with pain. Farida’s long hair cloaked her countenance, but when she lifted her head, it was drawn from lack of blood, her gaze feverish. But also feral. The fight hadn’t left these two.
As their parents stepped out of the forest, Merc saw longing, rage and fear flash through their offspring’s eyes, but they said nothing. Vampires were closer to wild animals than humans, their young trained early on how to react to threats. They wouldn’t reveal anything which would give an enemy an advantage. Just like Ruth, the first time he’d encountered her, in the tall grass with the lion.
The mind link was still absent, evident from the flash of distress that crossed the young faces as they’d reached for the one comfort they’d thought might be in their grasp. If they were under less duress, they would have anticipated it, because no way their parents could have been approaching, this close to them, and not have the mind link reactivate long before they appeared, unless someone had imposed spell work to continue blocking it.
He saw the rage in the parents, but Mason and Lyssa were old enough to control such reactions. They had one focus; take any opportunity to get their children to safety. And annihilate the ones who’d dared threaten them.
Jacob, for all that he was a human servant, showed he was truly his mistress’s mate, because he was a deadly presence at her side, watching for that same opportunity.
A half dozen vampires were positioned throughout the clearing with crossbows. Loaded with wooden stakes with metal tips to ensure they penetrated skin and muscle swiftly, the shaft would bring death to the vampire target.
“They will not be pleased,” the Trad with the megaphone informed Lyssa. “You’re early.” The megaphone made a staticky, whistling noise as he lowered it.
Merc assumed this was Grollner, and not just because the stump he stood near held a chess set, where he’d apparently been playing himself. Maybe his lackeys weren’t smart enough to present him a challenge. He was built bullish, with thick shoulders and powerful thighs. His brown hair was snarled down his back, his pale blue eyes overflowing with keen intelligence and zealotry. The worst combination when trying to find a weak spot.
“It throws a wrench in their plans,” Grollner noted. “But I’m glad. The waiting was getting tedious. Fortunately, your son is a pain in the ass, so he inspired us to get our axes out and build a better mousetrap to keep him subdued.” He gestured to the pulley system. “We were so pleased with the results, we put the girl up there with him. He gets a little pissy when she’s out of his sight. They’re a true credit to you both.”
He nodded to Mason and Lyssa. “Not a plea for mercy out of either of them. But he has a very creative vocabulary.”
Chatty bastard. But Merc wasn’t fooled, and neither was anyone else. Lyssa’s green eyes were polar frost. “What’s the purpose of the guillotine?”