Chapter Seven
Keep a very firm grasp on reality, so you can strangle it at any time. — Adolf Hitler
Heinkel gradually regained consciousness, her body resisting awareness and the throbbing headache awaiting her there. With her eyes closed and mind hazy, it was easy to pretend she was in her old bed in the heart of Vatican City. Yumie was at the window, sharpening her sword…But Yumie was dead. And she was…where was she?
Although her eyelids weighed a thousand pounds, Heinkel forced them open; she was rewarded with watering eyes and a pounding headache. The lump on her forehead answered the question of whether she'd been drugged.
I suppose I should be thankful for small mercies.
But she wasn't. Rather, Heinkel was furious—at herself, for getting caught, and at Seras, for abandoning her. For surely a vampire, no matter how idiotic, couldn't be captured so easily. Clearly Victoria hadn't bothered to help her, believing Heinkel could handle herself. Which she could…but you couldn't just abandon your partner, even one you despised. Though if Heinkel survived this, she was seriously considering it.
To make matters worse, her hands and feet were bound—though not very tightly. Either her captor wasn't very worried about her escaping, or they were a novice. Judging by the way they'd subdued her, Heinkel was leaning toward the latter option. Once she'd freed herself, she sat up, eyes taking stock of her surroundings. This night was getting better and better…
She was sprawled on the floor of a dark, cavernous space, with ceilings so high they blended into the shadows. The only light came from the massive hearth in the center of the room, where a roaring fire crackled—though from where she sat, Heinkel couldn't feel its warmth. The stone floor was damp, making her shiver even through her robes.
Firelight formed ghostly shapes on the walls, flickering over bookcases filled with ancient tomes, countertops strewn with bubbling beakers and gleaming instruments, vials of blood and jars of organs. It was the lair of a madman.
"A madwoman, to be precise."
A figure emerged from the shadows, stopping only a few feet from Heinkel. She'd expected her kidnapper to be a man with bulging muscles and a vicious smile, ready to carve her up like a Sunday roast. But the person examining her with unabashed curiosity was a middle-aged woman with the round spectacles and conservative clothing of a school marm; she had no weapon Heinkel could see. Speaking of weapons, hers were missing. The thought sparked a flicker of panic, which ignited into a flame when she realized the woman had just read her mind. What the hell was she?
Lounging against a cupboard lined with skulls, the woman smirked at Heinkel's expression. "Don't worry; I can't read all your thoughts; that would be exhausting. I can only hear the loudest ones, you see. My apologies for tying you up—I thought it would add to the atmosphere."
Heinkel craned her neck, scouring the room for other occupants, but if anyone else was present, they were well hidden. There was also no sign of her guns, which made it difficult to keep from throttling the bitch right then and there. She may have gotten lucky the first time, but this woman was even dumber than she looked if she thought she could defeat Heinkel in a fight.
The woman tsked as though Heinkel were a mischievous child. "How rude, fantasizing about shooting me in my own home. Young people these days don't have any manners."
As she spoke, Heinkel caught a whiff of her scent: lavender, mingled with the sickly-sweet smell of rot. Stomach churning, she couldn't help glancing at the glass jars over the woman's shoulder. Had their contents once belonged to girls like her? No matter. After all, a homicidal maniac (a human one, at least) was no match for an Iscariot agent, even a disarmed one.
Heinkel was readying herself to lunge at the woman's throat—she was far too angry for strategy—when her captor spoke again. "There's no point in putting up a fuss; you're helpless against my magic. Besides, things will be so much easier this way. Don't you agree?"
"Magic?" Despite everything, Heinkel couldn't help laughing. "You can't be serious."
Only vampires and a few highly trained humans could perform acts of sorcery; and this woman reminded her less of a witch, and more of a Harry Potter fan gone wrong. She was more likely to be an escapee from the nearest mental hospital than an enchantress.
"Of course I am." The woman huffed, as though Heinkel were the unreasonable one. "How else do you think I brought you here?"
A combination of luck and hitting me on the head with a blunt object?
Heinkel considered pointing out that no amount of Halloween décor spawned magical abilities, but it wasn't worth the effort; obviously, someone didn't have all her cups in the cupboard. Besides, her companion would soon discover how useless her "magic" was against Heinkel's fists…The bitch would be lucky to survive with her face intact.
In one smooth motion, Heinkel rose to her feet and lunged, fists eager to collide with the woman's doughy flesh. Instead, she collided with something else: an invisible wall just inches from her captor's smiling face.
Staggering backwards, head throbbing anew, Heinkel braced herself, lunging again...and again...and again. But if she moved more than a few feet in any given direction, she hit the barrier: smooth, unyielding, and utterly transparent. When she had finally exhausted herself, she sank to the ground, every muscle protesting, pulse thundering in her ears.
Shaking her head, the woman simpered, "I did warn you. You can try all you like, but you'll never get anywhere."
Battling the urge to claw her eyes out, Heinkel only glared. Though she would never admit it, she was almost relieved that her kidnapper was a witch; it made her capture marginally less humiliating. Of course, this also meant that it would be much harder to escape than she'd anticipated—particularly since Heinkel had no means of defending herself save the clothes on her back.
A calico cat emerged from the shadows, twining around the witch's ankles with a plaintive meow. When the woman leaned down to scratch it behind the ears, the room filled with the animal's rumbling purr.
Heinkel gritted her teeth so hard they ached. I don't have time for this. How long had she been unconscious, anyway? She had no idea if it was even still night; the room had no windows and she hadn't thought to bring a watch. Magic or no, she had to get out of here.
If only she had paid closer attention during the hostage negotiation seminar; then she would know how to convince this lunatic to release her. Then again, maybe not; Heinkel had never heard of a protocol for when you were the captive.
Still, she had to give it her best shot; after all, no one else was coming to save her. Yumie was six feet under; and who knew what Seras was up to. Maybe she's apprehending the killer right now…God, this was so humiliating. If Integra ever found out, Heinkel would never hear the end of it.
"You don't have to do this." Heinkel forced herself to say. The words tasted sour in her mouth, and her pride stung at the knowledge that she, a warrior of Iscariot, was humbling herself before the enemy in such a manner—but she had no other option. "Please let me go. Like you said, I'm no threat to you."
As if sensing her desperation, the cat padded towards her, tail in the air. But the woman waved a hand in the animal's direction, almost carelessly, and it was lifted into the air by some unseen force, mewling desperately as it scrabbled at nothing with its paws.
Observing the animal's distress, the witch lowered her hand as though she might release it. Instead, with a flick of her wrist, she hurled her pet into the nearest bookcase; the cat hit the wood with a sickening thud and went still.
Heinkel's entire body shook: not with fear, but with rage. She'd been kidnapped and forced to endure pointless monologues before, but this was something else altogether. She thought of Greta, the stray kitten she'd befriended as a child, and felt the anger build until it consumed her.
This bitch is going to pay.
The witch examined her wrist with a frown, as though concerned she'd pulled a muscle while abusing the animal. Then she returned her attention to Heinkel, with a satisfied smile that irked her almost badly as the cat's crumpled form.
"Terribly sorry, my dear. But you know how pets are; they can be so demanding. Now, what were you saying?"
Through clenched teeth, Heinkel forced out, "Let me go."
"Now why on earth would I do that? No sense in wasting time catching another girl when you'll do just as well."
"For what?" Politeness be damned; Heinkel's patience was wearing thin and besides, negotiations weren't getting her anywhere.
For a moment, the witch's frumpy façade cracked; and she gave Heinkel a chilling smile, eyes gleaming with a sinister satisfaction. "You haven't figured it out yet? I'm going to drain your blood."
