Blood Lines - Blood Price Part 6

With a sigh, she opened the back door and climbed out. Instead of setting off at a run, she went to the driver's side and opened the door, pulling the slack driver out onto the pavement. She made certain he wasn't in the flow of traffic before getting behind the wheel. Disdainfully, she tossed the handcuffs into the pa.s.senger seat and drove away with a peel of rubber. Fool that she was, she couldn't leave Atar defenseless to whatever purpose those men intended.

Chapter 7.

Nikia made several random turns, taking them deeper into New Town. Pedestrians were numerous and unpredictable, darting out in traffic without a thought for the vehicles. It forced her to focus on the road every second, although she wanted to turn and check on Atar. He hadn't stirred since the dart hit him and she was at a loss for what to do. She wasn't at all familiar with Prague and had no idea where they might hide.

Slowly, a low beeping sound caught her attention. She dared to look away from the road, hoping one of the many people out to experience nightlife wouldn't run in front of the mini. She scanned the dashboard and gauges quickly then checked the road ahead again before looking down. The beeping came from the box that should have displayed the toll for the ride. Instead, it was a black screen with a red and green dot. Both were moving approximately the same distance apart. Her brow furrowed, she tried to work out what it was. Her migraine intensified with the effort, dwindling the fragile source of strength that had somehow kept her going during the incessant pain, until she wanted to curl into a ball and sob. It was tempting to stop trying to solve the puzzle to bring relief but Nikia sensed the answer was crucial, no matter how much it depleted her reserves. Cursing and yelling caused her to look up and she slammed on the brake, stopping within inches of hitting a small group of partygoers dressed in suits and flashy dresses. One of the men cursed at her and stopped to pound his fist on the hood before they continued across the street.

A horn beeped impatiently behind her but Nikia's racing heart prevented her from moving the car. She took a deep breath, steadying her hands on the wheel, not wanting to think how close she had come to running down someone. When the horn sounded again, she resisted the urge to respond with loud expletives and took her foot off the brake. As she did so, her eyes fell on the display again, revealing the green dot was now moving so slowly as to barely register, while the red dot raced toward it.

It clicked into place that this was a display unit for a transceiver. No need to guess where the transceiver was. The men had been able to follow them from the start and now they were gaining on their position.

What should she do?

The car behind her must have been leaning on their horn. The shrill noise set Nikia's teeth on edge. With a sharp turn of the wheel, she parked the car at the curb, absentmindedly returning the obscene gesture given to her by the impatient driver as he rushed past.

Her hands shook, making it difficult to open the door handle. Nikia tried to distance herself from her fear and doubt by concentrating on the moment. Right now, she had to get Atar up and moving as far away from this car and as fast as possible. Up ahead, she could see the Charles Bridge, with a throng of people. It was the busiest group around and she hoped they could melt into the crowd as they escaped.

She opened the back door and bent over Atar, feeling his neck. His pulse was still slow but it seemed faster than the last time she had checked. He had slumped over and she heaved him to a sitting position so she could search for the dart. It was in his right shoulder and she pulled it out, not sure if it was continuing to release the drugging agent as long as it remained in him.

A line of blood trickled from the wound but her hunger was satisfied for the moment, so it didn't distract her. She shook his uninjured shoulder vigorously. "Atar, you have to wake up right now."

His head lolled and the quality of his breathing changed. When his eyelids flickered, she experienced a stir of hope. "Atar? Can you hear me?"

He mumbled something before his eyes closed again. Shaking him once more made his eyes open and a surly, "Leave me 'lone," issued from him.

Nikia looked at the terminal, alarmed to see the red dot was almost touching the green one. In desperation, she slapped Atar's cheek as hard as she could, wincing at the sound. His eyes snapped open and he seemed aware. "We have to go. They're coming. Now!"

Whether the slap or her urgency galvanized him, she didn't know. Nikia was just grateful he was reacting. He held himself upright without her a.s.sistance and slid toward her. There, his strength appeared to leave him and he required her a.s.sistance to get out of the car and stand. Atar stumbled as if intoxicated, anchoring his arm around her waist. In other circ.u.mstances, Nikia would have savored each sensation that rushed through her but she was too distracted to do anything other than notice the response. With a combination of coaxing and demanding, she got Atar's feet moving. He still leaned heavily on her, slowing them both down. She didn't dare take another peek at the terminal, for fear of Atar falling. With his weakened condition and her migraine, it would take all night to get him up again and right now, they would be lucky if they had a minute or two. Nikia kept her gaze focused ahead, although her senses constantly searched for danger. Atar walked alongside her as best he could, although his gait was shuffling at best. The hairs on her neck p.r.i.c.kled as they made it to the bridge, pus.h.i.+ng through a group of people standing close together. She deliberately dropped her hand to Atar's pocket, covering his wallet and cell phone to discourage a pickpocket. That she had the presence of mind to think of that shocked her.

She didn't linger in the crowd, hoping it would hide them from view. The men were determined and would search Charles Square and the surrounding area for them upon realizing they had abandoned the car.

Their progress was slow, as those loitering about weren't eager to move. It was made slower by Atar, although he was clearly doing his best to stay awake and manage under his own power as much as possible. She kept her arm around his waist, as he did the same to her.

A stir in the crowd behind them spurred Nikia to push through more insistently. She didn't need to turn around to know that at least one of the men was only a few feet behind them.

Perhaps those in the crowd noticed her urgency or maybe her tenaciousness blinded her to resistance but it was as though the Red Sea parted. Suddenly, they were off the bridge and moving to the park. It was shadowed in the darkening twilight and more than likely dangerous but the alternative wasn't any better.

The statues of great Czech artists, writers, and scientists scowled at them with stern visages as Nikia led Atar into Charles Park. She looked away quickly, not liking the sensation of being watched. Logically, if eyes followed them, they came from predators inside the park, rather than the statues but her mind wasn't equipped to deal strictly in the rational. Panic was finding fertile ground in her mind.

The nape of her neck p.r.i.c.kled and she acted on instinct, pulling Atar into a clump of bushes. Her heart raced in her ears as she cautiously eased aside a branch blocking her view to search the area. First, she saw a group of young men sitting in the gra.s.s, talking loudly and bobbing their heads to punk music at least fifteen years old.

By turning her head an inch at a time, she honed in on the person causing her alarm. It was a man in a suit but not one of the three who had chased them earlier. They must have stopped for backup. This one had the same slick, sly look about him, with only one incongruous element-a huge rifle braced casually over his arm. Due to the distance separating them, Nikia couldn't discern if it was a standard weapon or meant to fire more tranq darts. She didn't plan to let him close enough to find out.

As he turned in their direction, scanning the park visually, she released the branch and huddled with Atar, surprised to find she was blocking his body with her own. The protective instincts he stirred were dangerous. Already, they had kept her from leaving him and going to Belarus as she should have.

She held her breath as footsteps came closer, just a whisper in the gra.s.s. The sharp sound of a twig breaking made her jerk in response and Atar's muscles bunched. She rubbed his arm in what she hoped was a soothing way, while mentally willing him to remain quiet.

Her heart jumped in her throat when a s.h.i.+ny black shoe paused at the edge of the bush, pivoting in their direction. He had found them, although she didn't know how. Before he could act, Nikia leaped at him, allowing her human form to melt into that of a wolf as she did. Her clothes fell to the ground in a heap.

An aborted scream escaped him as she landed on him, clinging to his jacket by hooking her clawsthrough the raw silk. Her teeth provided more of an anchor when she buried them in his throat. She braced herself for the taste of his blood, fearing it would ignite a wild impulse in her and allow Illiana to take over in a moment of weakness. Thus far, she had managed not to transform because of her worries that the added wildness inherent to the werewolf nature would weaken her defenses. The man left her no choice except to change. She also had no option but to end his life. If she didn't, he might survive his first transformation to become a werewolf himself. She couldn't allow that to happen. It could expose everyone in Corsova.

When the man stopped struggling and dropped to the ground, Nikia loosened her jaws but didn't release him. Not until death spasms racked his body did she let go and move away from him. She trembled too, from the onslaught the violence had wreaked on her nerves. Her control remained firm and she had been aware of her actions the entire time.

She bent at the waist and vomited, expelling the taste of his blood along with her repugnance for what she had done. Doubt hammered at her, inquiring in a sly voice if she had really needed to kill him. The voice sounded a lot like Illiana's and she did her best to block it out. Later, she could deal with the guilt from her actions but now, she had to get Atar on the move once more.

The transformation had garnered an unexpected result, she mused, while hurrying to dress again. The intensity of the migraine had dropped significantly, indicating transforming had helped her heal some, to start rebuilding her reserves of strength. As she finished b.u.t.toning the jumpsuit, she scanned the area for more men with guns, seeing no others, to her relief.

A groan from Atar diverted her attention. Before returning to him, she took the rifle from the dead man, wincing at the heavy weight of the bulky gun. She used a precious second to open the chamber to see what ammunition it used. Three darts filled with liquid were loaded and ready to fire. She closed it with a click and slung the rifle over her shoulder. As she turned to retrieve Atar, she saw the group of young men watching her with mouths agape. She looked away quickly, hoping the darkness wouldn't allow them to give an accurate description of her, should they stay around to talk to the police when the body was discovered.

She tried to comfort herself with the knowledge no one would believe their tale of a woman transforming to a wolf but the bite marks on the dead man might lend credence to the story.

With a deep sigh, she walked to Atar, pleased to find him kneeling. He was making a faster recovery than she had antic.i.p.ated but was nowhere near self-sufficient yet. She knelt, offering him an arm up. He made it to his feet with difficulty but seemed to find walking easier once she helped him establish a rhythm.

She brought the rifle closer to her right hand, while keeping an arm around Atar. She wanted to feel strong and capable but right then, she could have happily hid and let someone else be the hero. She was the villain-type, not the rescuer-or she was when Illiana was in control. So far, it seemed easier to be evil and power-mad.

She shrugged off the useless thoughts and put her energy into seeing them through the park. Luck might have favored them because they emerged on the other side a little while later without anyone else approaching them. The street they exited on seemed free of the men in suits but she didn't waste time lingering to see if they showed up. Hiding was the only prudent course of option and with that intent, she veered away from the main street, following smaller streets and a few alleys in a meandering pattern, until they emerged onto Narodni Trida awhile later. It was another busy street but filled with a different type than she had seen around Charles Square. From the surrounding businesses, she garnered this was a safeplace during the day, a neighborhood making the effort to restore its grandeur, with only moderate seediness. At nights the seediness re-emerged, drawing a particular breed she wasn't anxious to attract the attention of.

She would have preferred a group of boisterous tourists to the sullen, quiet types watching their progress. The gleam of interest was too bright in many of their eyes, making her senses stir with danger.

As a group of three burly men and a bleached-blonde girl walked toward them, Nikia took Atar down the nearest street. It was dimly lit and her slippers slapped against the cobblestone, sending out an easily followed signal.

Somehow, she managed to eke a little more speed from her aching muscles, half-dragging Atar with her.

Hearing the ring of heavy footsteps behind them made her heart race and she knew she had to go faster still. Unfortunately, her body couldn't cooperate.

Fear chased her down the darkened street, accompanying her when she made a sharp left onto the next street. It offered marginally better lighting but the inhabitants didn't seem any less dangerous. Aware that the footsteps were still behind her, Nikia led Atar into the nearest doorway of a tavern namedRanstik .

There wasn't anyone waiting to collect a cover but she saw a muscle-bound man in a denim s.h.i.+rt with the sleeves ripped off eyeing her from a darkened corner near the door. She thought briefly of appealing to him for help but the gleam in his eye was as disturbing as the presence of the men who had followed her.

Instead, she helped Atar to the nearest free table, straining her muscles to ease him into a seat. He promptly slumped forward. His eyes were blinking but it was obvious he wasn't alert yet. Before sitting, Nikia examined the small room. There was a plethora of tables, with only a few occupied. An abundance of cigarette smoke burned her throat and made her eyes water. She coughed, attracting the attention of a scruffy man two tables over. He glared at her through bloodshot eyes, mumbled something and wrapped his hand more securely around a gla.s.s filled with amber beer, as if protecting it from her.

She took the seat that best allowed her to scrutinize the entire room, although her back was still undefended. She tensed when the men who had followed her entered the bar one by one, with the blonde trailing in last. Their eyes fell on her and she held her breath, wondering if anyone would come to their aid or if they would even look up from their drinks while the men did whatever they planned?

She let her breath out slowly when the group took a table across the room. She didn't let herself relax completely because all of their eyes remained focused on her and Atar-the men with a disturbing quality she didn't want to identify and the girl with a petulant scowl.

She started with surprise when a hand fell on her shoulder. Looking up, Nikia barely choked back a gasp at the muscled man towering over her. He made the bouncer look small in comparison. His bald pate gleamed even in the dim light provided by the spa.r.s.e lamps suspended several feet apart from the ceiling. An impressive handlebar mustache covered most of his upper lip. She looked down at the hand on her arm, swallowing at the size of it. His knuckles showed signs of bruising, indicating they had been used recently for purposes she didn't want to contemplate. Only the thick wedding band on his hand provided her a slight measure of rea.s.surance that he was a human and not some goliath conjured to torment her. Her throat was dry and she coughed, searching for her voice. "Yes?" The timid squeak didn't project confidence.

He said something in Czech but switched to English as thick as his mustache at her blank look. "What to drink?" Relief swept through her, along with the urge to laugh. He didn't seem like the waiter type. "Water."

He shook his head. "Pay or get out."

She shrugged. "Whatever then." Despite the dryness in her throat, she didn't plan to drink anything Ranstik served, for fear of what germs might be lurking in the gla.s.ses.

With a sharp nod, the man moved back to the bar, turning to the task of filling two small gla.s.ses with the contents of a bottle. The beverage didn't look like beer. She eyed it doubtfully when he returned to their table.

He set down the gla.s.ses with small thumps, slos.h.i.+ng the liquid in each. "Becherovka."

She frowned up at him. "Excuse me?"

He thumped his chest. "Czech drink. Very good." He inclined his head in Atar's direction, saying, "Ono vule bdici jeho ohromn dub."

She shook her head with confusion, not missing the laughs of those close to their table. A blush warmed her face when the big man put his hand at crotch level and showed it slowly rising. There was no missing that implication. She looked away, reaching for the gla.s.s as a means of distraction. From the corner of her eye, she watched a tiny woman, almost as broad as she was tall, walk to the big man and slap his arm, giving every appearance of admonis.h.i.+ng him. To Nikia's amus.e.m.e.nt, the man's shoulders drooped and he returned to the bar.

The gla.s.s was in her hand and she brought it to her mouth cautiously. The strong cinnamon aroma made her breathe in deeply and when she tasted it, theBecherovka was similar to strudel.

Atar lifted his head, seeming to find a reserve of strength. His voice was slurred but she was encouraged that he could speak. "Not safe."

She set down the gla.s.s and leaned closer, dropping her voice to a whisper meant only for his ears. "I know, but men followed us."

"The suits."

Nikia shook her head. "Other men. They're in the bar now. I didn't know what else to do, so I brought us in here."

He rubbed his head. "We need to leave."

She lifted a brow, skeptical of his ability to go anywhere at the moment. "Are you strong enough?"

He lifted a shoulder. "Head's fuzzy but improving. I think the drug is wearing off." He straightened in the chair, looking as though it took all of his returning strength to remain upright. "We have to leave."

She couldn't agree more. This dingy tavern in a seedy section of Prague was the last place she would feel safe but it was foolhardy to leave the safety of the crowd. The men in suits worried her but the other men watching from the table nearby posed a more immediate threat. She knew they were equally dangerous and were simply biding their time to act. She swallowed a nervous lump, trying not to considerwhat they might do when they got tired of waiting. "Yes, but not until you're stronger."

He waved a hand and tried to rise, succeeding only in sliding his chair back an inch before slumping forward slightly. "Yeah." Atar reached for the gla.s.s, sniffing it before taking a small sip. He grimaced.

"It's too sweet."

"Just like your lady friend," said a gruff voice behind Atar, belonging to the burly man who had followed them intoRanstik . His voice was surprisingly rich and pleasing, with hardly an accent when he spoke English.

Atar had distracted her from keeping watch on them. Nikia twisted her head, searching for the other three. One stood off to her right and the other was almost behind her. The blonde girl stood several feet away, watching with an air of mingled impatience and malicious glee.

He turned his head with apparent difficulty to look up at the man towering over him. "You're interrupting a private conversation."

"Talk?" The big man scowled. "Women need action." He placed a huge hand on Atar's shoulder. "I will borrow her for a time and return her unscathed...probably." His cohorts chuckled at his lewd announcement.

"Like h.e.l.l." With surprising fluidity, Atar got to his feet, flinging off the hand on his shoulder.

Nikia surged from her seat, determined not to let Atar face them alone. His lithe muscles and way of carrying himself would have a.s.sured her of his ability to take care of himself under other circ.u.mstances but he stood little chance of overcoming three men in his drugged state.

The one behind her lunged forward, grabbing her arm. Nikia turned on him, growling low in her throat as she brought up her hand, slamming her palm against the bridge of his nose. Blood sprayed from his wound, spattering her face and hair. She grimaced in disgust. He cradled his injured nose, cursing her as he stumbled to a nearby seat.

She turned back in time to see the other man take a swing directly at his face. Atar tried to twist away but moved too slowly and took the brunt of the man's fist against his cheek. He grunted and swayed, clutching the back of his chair for support.

Without thought, Nikia moved into the fray, standing beside Atar to keep him on his feet, while switching her gaze between each of the two men threatening them. The air was fraught with tension, heralding the violence about to escalate.

An angry voice caused all of them to jerk and turn to their right, where the short woman who had admonished the bartender was rus.h.i.+ng to them, shouting in Czech and shaking her finger. She placed herself in front of Nikia, glaring up at the big man. She didn't betray a hint of fear when she told him something in an angry tone, punctuating her words by jabbing her finger toward the door.

The man laughed as he pushed her out of his way so hard she spun into a nearby table, crying out with either shock or pain. Nikia didn't have time to determine which while the man bore down on her. She brought up her hands to scratch his face as he lifted her in a tight embrace, cutting down on the oxygen she could draw in. She bucked and thrashed in his arms as he lowered his mouth toward hers. The stench of cigar and cheap beer emanated from his opened maw and she turned her head just as his mouth neared hers. She shuddered when he instead licked her cheek before laughing-a sharp, cruel sound that vibrated through his chest and into her body. Nikia struggled to bring her knee up into his t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es but found herself imprisoned in his arms. "Atar," she whimpered, finding it increasingly difficult to take in a breath as the man's arms tightened around her.

In a second, she was free and the man was turning toward Atar. Nikia looked at him, astonished to see he held a broken chair in his hands. His trembling arms betrayed his fatigue when he pointed the remaining leg at the man standing before him, unfazed from the blow of the chair. He still bore splinters of wood on the back of his s.h.i.+rt and shrugged ma.s.sive shoulders to shake them off as he moved toward Atar.

Seemingly from nowhere, a roar engulfed the place. Before Nikia could identify the source, the man who had licked her toppled to the floor, tackled by the huge barkeep. His face, red with anger, was a marked contrast to his dark mustache as he pummeled the man with his fists.

The third one of the group hesitated, obviously prevaricating between intervening and saving his own skin. Self-preservation was his main concern as evidenced by the way he ran from the tavern, with the bleached-blonde girl following, screeching all the way.

The barkeep was still working over the other man, who seemed puny in comparison, when the plump woman came to his side. With a simple touch of her hand on his arm, she got him to stop punching. She said something softly, meant only for his ears. He nodded, scowled down at the man under him and got to his feet. He didn't look at him again as he turned to the man on a stool in the corner and told him something in Czech.

It must have been an order to take out the trash, because the man rose from the stool and sauntered forward. He grasped a handful of the injured man's s.h.i.+rt and dragged him across the floor to the open door, where he heaved him outside with what appeared to be little expended effort. He only had to point at the ruffian cradling his bleeding nose to have him running fromRanstikin terror.

"Th-thank you," Nikia said, wincing at the way her voice trembled, just like the faint tremor spreading through the rest of her body. Reaction was setting in.

He shrugged. "For you not, girlie. No one lays hands on my wife."

She ran a shaky hand through her mussed hair. "Regardless of your reasons, thank you."

He snorted. "Thank me by leaving. No trouble here more."

"Ivan," the little woman said, outraged. She chided him in Czech, pointing once more to the street.

Ivan rolled his eyes. "Very well." He looked at Nikia. "Maria is spotted with softness. She tells me you are troubled and men will wait for you." He grimaced. "She insists you take night in upstairs room."

Relief swept through Nikia. The men in suits obviously hadn't tracked them here, so it seemed as safe as anywhere in this area could be. If they could make it through until the morning, their chances of escape were improved. She locked eyes with Maria. "Thank you."

Maria inclined her head. "For room is fourteen hundred Kcs."

Nikia's stomach fluttered with panic. She had no money, having had no time to grab her bag. She looked at Atar, knowing he had his wallet from having felt it in his pocket but unsure of what his cash reserves were. Even worse, did he still have their pa.s.sports? Their plane tickets were probably long gone but that didn't worry her. She wasn't eager to return to Constanta. Her planned trip to Belarus would be cut very short if her real and fake pa.s.sports were both back in the room at the St. George. She wasn't certain she had the mental reserves left that were necessary to hypnotize someone into believing they had already seen her pa.s.sport, as she had done in Constanta.

"Will you take Euros?"

Ivan nodded in answer to his question, accepting the fifty Atar removed from his wallet and tucking it in his pocket without any indication he planned to give change. Atar didn't press the matter, apparently deciding this place was their best option for the night and it wasn't worth losing the chance over eight Euros.

Ivan returned to the bar and Maria gestured them to follow her around the bar, to a doorway revealing a set of stairs. Nikia put an arm around Atar's waist, pleased to note he was moving more steadily and leaning less on her. Surely, he would recover by morning.

Her feet automatically took the creaky stairs, missing most of their paint, as her mind mulled over her epiphany. In his weakened state, Atar would need rest to recuperate. This was her only chance to escape him and head for Belarus. Yes, she had discarded the idea of leaving him earlier but he wasn't safe then. Now, he was as safe as he could be. The thought germinated in her mind while they emerged onto the second floor, where Marie led them to a door halfway down the hall.

When she opened it and pointed for them to go inside, Nikia and Atar slipped past her solid bulk to examine the room they had purchased for the night, which she hoped would prove to be a safe haven. It contained a double bed with an iron head and footboard, a small table with a pitcher and basin, a rickety-looking chair by the table and a crooked dresser bearing an antique bra.s.s lamp. There were no light fixtures and no switches. Maria confirmed this when she followed them in and turned on the lamp.

She waved her hand around the room and gave them a smile.

Nikia forced herself to return it. It wasn't a palace but it would certainly do for their purposes tonight.

She nodded, which seemed to be all Maria needed. She turned and bustled out.