Wow, I really appreciate the feedback, especially over Lance 'welcoming' Beth to his family. I hope this chapter does justice to everyone's expectations. I'm not completely satisfied with it, but we tend to be our own worst critics. I've reworked it several different ways, and this was the best version, and I figured I'd better roll with it and not drive myself insane. Thanks so much for the reviews, keep 'em coming. We've come so far together; we're almost to the end.
Near Lance's Fortress
All vampires understood pain, were bound to it. It was a weapon, stimulation, enemy, art form, all in one complicated package, wrapped up in both the emotional and physical. Coraline, for most of her life, had been an expert at receiving and inflicting it, and she understood the various shades of grey. Now, her mind, body and soul were suffused in pain, taking her to levels of hell even she hadn't been able to imagine. Maybe that was the point.
It wasn't the stake embedded in her heart. No, that wasn't any picnic, but that pain was doable, ordinary even. How many times since becoming a vampire that balmy June evening had she been staked? A hundred times easy, possibly as high as two hundred. Paralysis was the bitch of it, not the pain. Still, if the plunged stake wasn't embedded deeply enough, it could be worked loose, provided the vampire in question was strong and skillful. This one couldn't be nudged loose; it had been twisted too deeply. Still, it wasn't the stake that was devouring her whole.
Her eyes veered to her left, barely able to catch Cynthia's still form out the corner of her eye. Her old friend was in the same boat, a wicked stake protruding from her chest. I led her into a trap, Coraline acknowledged with deep regret, ashamed. Not so much that she'd been caught in an ambush and dragged her friend along with, but that they'd fallen so neatly into the trap, and through Coraline's own blindness. She'd gone for the same carrot twice. She hadn't listened to her instincts.
Coraline's sharp mind analyzed the events that had led her to this moment, to being staked on the stone floor of an old abandoned building. Mick. He was the key; he'd always been the key to her undoing. Before him, she'd been on her way to being the most powerful vampiress in the United States. True, the ancients preferred Europe, and that's where the prestige was, but being getting the top spot in America was more than a mere stepping stone. Who knows what would have been around the corner if she'd stayed focused. And she'd thrown it away all because of love. That was rich.
What good had that love ever done her? Coraline fumed to herself. She knew Mick had always seen himself as her victim, as the proverbial fly caught in her sticky web. Well, she wasn't doing too peachy at the moment, if you wanted her opinion. Actually, out of the two of them, she was reasonably sure she was the only one that had ever been barbequed. She'd paid her own prices for loving him.
Still, as much grief as their relationship had ever cost her, nothing could compare to tonight, the grief tearing her soul down to the foundation. No matter how bad things got, Mick had never been devious, didn't play the manipulation games that most vampires thrived on. Well, I wanted him to enjoy his set of fangs, she mused bitterly. Her little Pinocchio was a real vampire now, she guessed because the treachery he'd unloaded against her had completely blind-sighted the expert manipulator.
Their enterprise against Lance had been nothing more than a sham. The whole time, he'd been in league with the devil, selling her down the river. Not just her, but Cynthia, and her two brothers. They'd all shown up tonight, at an old warehouse not too far from her brother's fortress. According to Mick, it had been in production during WWII, but had long since folded. They'd arrived, only to have 50 of Lance's finest guards unleashed on them. Mick had been untouched. Now, they all were royally screwed. She would have scoffed if she'd been able. Her plan was for Lance to think Mick was going to stab her in the back. It looked like her ex-husband had kicked that plan up a notch.
Coraline looked at Mick, who was watching her with an expression that could have frozen Jamaica. Why, Mick? She asked silently, hating the fact she still loved him, maybe more than ever. You think that the grass is greener with my brother? He'll eat you alive. Mick had never been seduced by power, but maybe it was her own fault. Maybe she'd taught him a little too well this time around. She couldn't see Lance but could smell him. His stench was hard to miss. He was nearby, probably enjoying every minute of this show.
"You don't get it, do you, Coraline?" Mick asked her. She didn't see any gloating in his demeanor, but didn't see any sympathy, any feeling either. Well, not of the good kind, anyway. "You probably think I sold out for power or wealth, because that's what you'd do, isn't it, sweetheart?" The endearment stung, and tears glittered in her eyes against her will. "Actually, I think it's even all around. Your life is just buying what you stole…my life."
Has he lost it? She wondered to herself, blinking hard, feeling a tear slip down her cheek. He really thought selling his soul was the big, brilliant answer? And how did he think Lance was going to give him his humanity? The bastard wanted the cure obliterated, and even if he didn't, it was all just temporary anyway. What garbage had Lance been feeding him, and since when was Mick a moron?
"I've got to hand it to you; this one really was a doozy. Seriously, did you arrange for me to get shot in the head, or was that just a stroke of luck? Either way, you didn't waste any time reaping in the benefits of my memory being gone. You thought taking care of me could make up for the hell you've put me through? You killed me, Coraline, right after you played me good. Oh, but that's right. You're a real pro."
Over the years of their tempestuous marriage, both Mick and her had fought some nasty battles, both physically and verbally. Still, none of them had held quite this much hatred, this much venom. Another tear slipped free. This could only mean one thing; he'd gotten his memory back. In the beginning of this, she'd rationalized the risk by figuring the worst that could happen is that she'd be back at square one. She'd miscalculated big time, it seemed.
"Yes, that's right, Coraline, the one thing you couldn't control, the silver's affects wearing off. You tried to do damage control, fed me bits and pieces of the truth, a calculated dose, I bet. I remember everything. You haven't changed a bit, you just hide it better." He gave her a disgusted look. "I never loved you, don't you get it? I was obsessed, I was addicted. No one could love you, because you're twisted, just as twisted as your brother. No offense."
The last comment was directed at her brother, who had come into Coraline's vision. It certainly didn't improve the view. "None taken," Lance smoothly countered. "Still, don't be hypocritical, Mick. It seems you're taking on some of the family traits."
Another shock slammed into Coraline. The scent her brother was covered in belonged to Beth of all people. She inhaled, but couldn't pick up a sexual tang to the smell, but she did pick up traces of the blonde's blood, the same blood type as Coraline, lingering in the direction of Lance's mouth. Wild hope filled Coraline. If there was ever a reason for Mick to change his mind, this would be it.
If he did notice it, which he pretty much had to, Mick made no sign of it. Coraline's despair deepened. If Lance snacking off Beth didn't do it, then Mick had really gone around the bend. The sense of impending death, hers, was a palatable thing in the air. Well, at least I can say I've never been boring, she reflected, going numb inside, finally a reprieve from the wracking pain.
"You might have a point." Mick stared down at Coraline, eyes dead. "Aren't you proud, honey?"
"Mick, as much as I'm enjoying my sister being reduced to a puddle of tears, don't you think it's time we bring this little drama to a close?" What's the rush? Coraline wondered, and then it hit her. Lance had been sent by the family to get her, nothing more. Dominic didn't want her dead; he wanted her brought in alive to be merely punished, which was at cross purposes with Lance's agenda. Even though Coraline was no match for her brother, she still was a nuisance. Still, Lance would never defy their grandsire, which put him in an indelicate dilemma. It seemed like Mick was the solution. Make it look like nothing more than a pissed ex-husband taking revenge on the woman who wronged him. Lance would kill him to appease Dominic, and he'd be no worse for the wear.
She paused for a moment to give grudging respect for her brother's clever way out. He hadn't mentally strained himself this much in years. How could Mick be so dumb? A blind guy could see through this! She spared another glance for Cynthia, genuinely starting to freak out on her behalf. She'd be just a loose end for Lance to tie up. If she was lucky, he'd kill her now, but Coraline wouldn't count on it. The family torture chamber never had time to gather dust.
"I'm on a roll," Mick protested mildly, shrugging. Her gaze darted to Mick, and she thought she saw a flicker of something. Without a vampire's amazing visual perception, she never would have caught it, the look was there and gone so quick. A question burned in her brain, but she decided it was premature to let it develop further.
"Far be it for me to stifle creative expression, but-"
"Well, then," Mick interrupted with a smirk, "don't." He crouched down beside Coraline, patted her cheek. The touch was supposed to have the presentation of mocking, but the touch was surprisingly gentle against her cheek, his fingers dragging against her skin for an unnecessary second or so. The question she was trying to dodge rose up again.
"Where's Matthew?" she heard her brother growl to one of his guards in less than slight irritation. The guard didn't answer, probably figured it was safer. "Does he think I've got patience coming out of my ass? Find him, and bring him to me."
Actually, the question regarding Matthew's whereabouts had been a good one. Her lapdog had been noticeably absent this evening. Oh, just as well, his presence wouldn't exactly have fended off disaster. If anything, he probably would have just screwed everything up worse. Obviously, her brother had been expecting him, too. It wasn't like Matthew to flake; he valued his existence too much. Had Mick killed him? She had spilled her guts about Matthew's loyalty to her.
A ruckus erupted from outside the factory, half of Lance's guards spilling out of the room to check it out. Lance was snarling out orders to the other half, but Coraline couldn't focus on the words. Mick had his hand around the stake in her chest. Initially, she thought he'd jam it deeper, but instead, he eased it looser, the degree of paralysis lessened just a degree or so. Not enough to be able to move, but enough to be able to flex her chest, work the stake out further. Their gazes held for just a precious second, and she caught Mick's quick wink. She suddenly got it, and it nearly took her breath away. It was low-down, under-handed, and sheer genius!
Casually, he sauntered over to Cynthia, who was murdering him with her eyes. He repeated the process with her stake, carefully monitoring Lance out the corner of his eye. The egomaniac wasn't even paying attention to Mick's activities, complacent in the belief that Mick was his patsy. He stood in one graceful motion, leaning against the wall, indifferently watching Lance's minions hop around.
A collective howl of agony assaulted the night air, a growl of fury crawling up Lance's throat. "Is a little competence too much to ask for?" he wondered aloud. "Kill the bitch," he ordered Mick, gesturing violently to his only sister. "Make it quick, but extremely painful."
Coraline subtly worked the stake looser, feeling the wood slide free inch by painful inch. This pain didn't bother her; it was invigorating, strengthening her. Her brother was in for one hell of a surprise. Whether they could pull it off though remained to be seen.
"Touching sentiment," a familiar voice drawled from the entrance. She was able to move her head up just enough to see Josef lounging in the doorway. "Brotherly devotion. Gets me every time."
"What is the meaning of this?" Lance growled, faltering when he saw twelve vampires file in after the 400-hundred year old.
The stake ejected from Coraline's chest. She was on her feet before it could land on the stone floor. Cynthia was quick to follow suit. Cheerful hatred burned in Coraline's eyes as she savored her brother's expression. "Been a change of plans," she announced.
Lance's wrathful gaze turned on Mick. "You cockroach," he hissed. "You played me? You dared to play me?!"
"I guess you didn't do your homework good enough." Mick met the incensed accusation with quiet dignity. "You would have known my soul isn't for sale."
"Mick, don't bother trying to explain. He doesn't have a soul to sell," Coraline chimed in.
"As riveting as all this is, let's skip the witty banter," Josef suggested, voice hallow. To Coraline's eyes, he was a former shell of himself. Whatever had changed his mind about joining them, it hadn't fixed what the original problem. "I came to play."