Desperate Measures

Douxie listened to the dial tone, wondered momentarily if he needed to dial 9 to get out or something, then input the number Jim listed off to him. If he'd needed to dial to get out of the system, there would have been a notice or something, right?

The phone started ringing. He handed it to Jim. The receiver looked comically small in the troll's hand. Douxie bit his lip, thinking about burner phones and government tracing abilities. Back when he'd first been tossed in here, he'd thought it was probably all so much nonsense, but Zoe had been fanatical about it, and of the two of them, she was the more technologically inclined.

He hoped they weren't putting a giant target on Jim's girlfriend's back with this call.

"Claire?" Jim rasped.

Even from a few feet away, Douxie could hear the shriek of Jim's name, and the garbled flurry of questions that followed.

"I don't. I don't entirely know," he said. He sounded worn out, exhausted. "Can you come get me?"

More words, less clear. Jim's expression fell. His eyes met Douxie's. "There's a barrier?" he repeated.

Shit.

And if Douxie's ears were correct, there were also boots moving out in the corridor. "Give me the phone." He practically grabbed it out of Jim's hand. "Claire, right?" he asked hurriedly.

"Uh. Who are you?"

"Are you with Merlin?" he demanded. Fuck, if no rescue could make it into 49-B...

"Yes...?" Claire dragged the question out.

"Tell him Hisirdoux is with Jim. He'll know what it means. And call this number-" He rattled off Zoe's burner. "Her name's Zoe, she's a witch, she'll help you. We're in Area 49-B-"

Which was when the door was kicked in.

Douxie dropped the phone and whipped up a shield, blocking the first few blaster shots. Jim tried to push himself up, but only partly succeeded. "Douxie-"

"Don't bother," Douxie told him. "You're in no shape to fight." Stupid crystal. Stupid me.

"No, I can-" Jim pushed himself up further.

The devil herself appeared in the doorway. Douxie ignored the idiot Trollhunter behind himself and snarled, never dropping the shield. "Kubritz."

She smiled. "Nice to see you remember me, Casperan."

"What hell did you crawl out of, and how can I persuade you to go back there?" The runic array for a banishing circle itched at the back of his mind, but in order to cast it, he'd have to drop his shield, and he wasn't that stupid.

"Oh, I'm not the one crawling out of hell." Her sadistic smile widened. "That would be you."

Douxie stared at the barest hint of fang pressing against the rich red of her lipstick. Pieces fell into place. Every time he'd been knocked out and drained of blood. Fourteen years of being fed nothing but blood as a diet... and then having it harvested back out of himself. Tainted. Altered.

All to make her...

"You bitch," he swore. "How many?"

"An army," Kubritz gloated. "My army."

The idea of the United States government... of any government... having an army of vampires at their disposal...

Douxie felt sick.

"All thanks to you," Kubritz said. Her gaze slid to Jim. "I'm still thinking over what use we'll make of your friend here."

Nausea dropped away, hardened into something else. This is not my fault, Douxie thought. But it is my responsibility.

Time for desperate measures.