Page 82 of Taste of Blood
I drop the bloody bolt cutters on the table and look over my choice of tools. Over the years I’ve amassed quite a collection for just these purposes. I’m not saying I’m an expert in pain, but I have developed a healthy respect for its use. I take a moment to rein in my bloodlust; as much as I’d love to indulge it, I need information.
I pick up a particularly cruel serrated blade that I’ve had good success with and turn toward Vamp 2. He watches me warily as I step across the cell, holding the knife up so he can get a good look at it. Visual intimidation is its own form of torment.
The blade is a thing of beauty. I had it custom made for me about a decade ago by a master craftsman in Chinatown. The polished steel is as heavy as a cleaver, with half-inch-wide teeth along its foot-long length. It’s more of a saw than a knife, but it does come to a jagged point that can tear flesh from bone when driven into a body.
I bring the tip to his neck, pressing just enough to draw a thin line of blood, then slowly drag it down his torso, the razor sharp steel slicing through his shirt and flesh like butter. The defiant bloom of terror in his eyes makes my dick start to harden. He wants to act tough, but the element of the unknown is fucking with his resolve. I lean closer, breathing in his fear.
“Let’s see how big a badass you are.”
Because I still want to be able to get him to talk, I choose his abdomen as my target, shoving the blade halfway into the soft flesh before twisting and yanking it out.
Vamps don’t usually have food in their stomachs, but there’s still acid involved to digest the blood we consume, and the bitter stench of it overwhelms the scent of blood. He yells even louder than his buddy as he stares down at the mangled mess of ruined flesh and guts.
That’s a fatal wound for a human. For a vamp, it could lead to a slow deathlike state if left unhealed.
Dante keeps a steel coffin in the basement to imprison stubborn captives, and I’ve locked vamps in it with wounds like that before. Usually after a couple of days they’re willing to give up their own mother for a taste of blood.
Trouble is, we don’t have a couple of days. We need answers out of these assholes now.
Doesn’t mean I can’t threaten him with it.
I walk across the room and kick the lid open, then turn to get his reaction.
“A few days in here with that wound should give you a whole new perspective on life.”
He struggles against the chains, causing his gut to leak more blood. And just to give him something more to think about, I ram the blade into his thigh and take my time jerking it out. He’d have a hard time running away without blood to heal that wound.
The noise has awakened the third vamp, whose eyes widen at the sight of his two companions. Since I don’t need all three of them, I decide to sacrifice this one to loosen up the tongues of the other two. I convinced Uno to give me a couple of bolts filled with the fatal poison he developed, LTS3.0, and I pick up the crossbow now and load it with one.
“That won’t kill me,” Vamp 3 sneers.
“You sure about that?” I ask as I take aim at his neck. To be honest, I’m curious to see what the poison will do to him. Even Uno asked if he could be present to witness it, but I don’tget off performing for an audience. I do promise I’ll give him a thorough account, however.
I pull the trigger and the bolt splits Vamp 3’s throat. His eyes widen, like he can’t believe I just did that.
Nothing happens at first. I set the crossbow down to observe, waiting for the first sign that the poison is working. The vamp coughs, a gurgling sound, as a small trickle of blood leaks from the wound, then his eyes tear up and take on a yellowish hue. As I watch, his skin begins to darken, turning first a rosy pink, then a coppery red, like he’s suffering from an extreme fever. He breaks out in a sweat and starts fighting against the chains. The rattle of metal on metal almost drowns out his fractured breaths.
The other two vamps have forgotten their own wounds as they watch their companion, who’s now emitting a keening whine that grates on my last nerve. Just die, already.
“Get it out! Get it out!” he screams.
The unpleasant smell of burning flesh fills the basement, melding with the scent of his companions’ torture. What I wouldn’t give for an exhaust fan right now.
Vamp 1 narrows his eyes at me. “What did you do to him?”
Vamp 3 is writhing and shrieking in pain while his flesh starts to tighten and shrink against his bones. I step closer to him, intrigued by the effect.
“Fascinating.”
“What the fuck did you shoot him with?” Vamp 1 demands.
I turn to him and grin. “Same thing I’m going to use on you if I don’t get what I want.”
Vamp 3 fights against the chains, their clatter and his anguished cries filling the air, the smell of his burning flesh overwhelming everything else in the closed space. Uno wasn’t kidding when he said it would burn him from the inside out. Afew crossbows loaded with this stuff could nip the Python’s little rebellion right in the bud.
If we could find them.
Smoke starts wafting up from Vamp 3’s body as his skin turns first brown, then black. It’s a noisy, messy process that seems to go on forever, but it actually takes less than ten minutes for him to die. When his cries finally cease, I step over to him and listen for the sound of breathing.
