Page 51 of Trapped for Her Blood
“You might find this shocking, professor, but lots of folks down here have above average hearing.”
She makes a face that indicates she found my question foolish, and I suppose it is foolish to expect to avoid being overheard in a place full of vampires.
Then she tips her head to the side. “I do know somewhere lesscrowded, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I nod.
“Come.” Gesturing with her hand, she heads quickly down the passageway, and I follow.
“Where are we going?”
“To the guards’ station.”
I grab her arm and stop her. “I most certainly would not wantguardsto overhear our conversation.”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, professor.” She glances down and smirks. “Too late for that, I guess.” She chuckles at her own joke. “But the guards won’t be there.”
“How do you know?”
“No guards at the station during daylight hours. No guards down here ever, really.”
“Who enforces the rules then?’
“Rules?” She chuckles again. “For a professor, you are fucking hilarious. Ever consider taking the stage as a comic?”
She starts moving again, slower this time, at a pace that would be a sprint for humans but remains leisurely for vampires.
“There are norulesdown here, professor,” she says as she runs. “Well, none written down, anyway.”
I nod. This is exactly the kind of information I seek, and I am proud that I have managed to steer the conversation in the right direction without actual questions that may reveal my purpose. I cannot let her know I plan to escape with Ember, because there is no chance I would risk taking others along with us.
“What are these unwritten rules?” I ask as we move. “Who is in charge?”
We turn a corner and I stop, my instincts halting my body before my brain fully registers why. Sunlight.
“It’s okay,” she beckons. “I know how to keep clear of the light.”
Ahead of us, at the end of the hallway, is a gated door that appears silver-plated, but which has an ordinary lock that any self respecting vampire would be able to break. Leather gloves, and the willingness to withstand a little pain, would protect any vampire from what looks like mere silver plating on the bars—at least for long enough to bend or break them.
But that would have to wait until nightfall. Sunlight streams through the gate, reflected by mirrors to reach many feet beyond it. Leather clothing helps with silver, but provides no protection from the lethal star’s rays, and any vampire who dared go near would burn too badly to move, before attempting to break either the lock or the bars.
Gracen moves forward, dangerously close to the edge of the sunlight, and then disappears to the side. I follow, feeling the sizzling heat of the deadly light, and then dip back into a small alcove, with a door at its end.
“What is behind that door?” I ask.
“Supplies. Nothing useful for vampires. No blood. There’s a water source, meat, dried berries, and some other shit for the shifters—like firewood.”
“What keeps vampires from using the wood to make stakes?” I brace myself in case I need to fight for my life.
“Nothing. But walking around this place armed with a wooden stake…” She shakes her head. “Let’s say it’s not a great idea. Not if you want to live.”
“One of those unwritten rules to which you earlier referred?”
She flicks her wrist toward me, index finger forward and thumb up, like a mimed gun.
“Bingo. Give the professor a prize.” Her eyes flash with amusement.
Her idea of humor seems to involve making fun of me, but now that I understand it, I have to admit that I do find her somewhat amusing, and at least I know where the bear obtains his supplies of food and firewood, although, if he has been trapped in his bear form for forty years, it has been many years since he has visited this closet.
