When I come to, I seem to be lying on a stone floor. The rugged surface pricks my back, and it's so cold I'm shivering. More than stones, the floor appears to be made of block of ice.
"I feel like crap."
The words leave my mouth as I sit up. Damn, it's dark. Whether I close my eyes or keep them open, it doesn't make much of a difference; there's almost no light, save for the moonlight shining through small openings high up in the wall.
From the look of it, there're about eight openings, and a dozen rods stand guard in each, casting an ominous shadow on the floor.
…Even without those, it's not like I'd fit in any of these small openings. They're barely big enough for me to fit a fist in, never mind my whole body.
"A dungeon, huh? Better than a burning basement, I guess."
Slowly, my eyes get used to the darkness, and I finally catch sight of a silhouette on the wall. I feel my forehead creases as I frown.
Why the hell does it look like Jesus Christ on the Cross? Wait. No way, they couldn't have—!
"These motherfuckers…!"
They did.
These fucking bastards dared…!
The moment the realization strikes, I leap to my feet and rush to James. The shadows of the heads of the nails are now glaring in the white of his palms. They're the only ones I can clearly see, but I know there are more. In his arms and legs, for one thing. Maybe even his chest.
It's an old, barbaric practice from the time vampires were hunted down. Crucifying them with nails coated in the blood of the dead was and is still the easiest way to immobilize them. It's also one of the cruelest torture methods I know for this species.
"J-james…?"
Scott, calm down. He's the heir of the vampire clan.
He wouldn't die this easily, now, would he?
"James?"
There's still no answer.
I can't see his face, and I can't tell if he's alive. We're of the same height, and he's been crucified with his toes touching the floor, but his head is hanging low. The blond hair falls like a curtain before his forehead, hiding his face from view.
A deep breath later, I brush a few strands aside to touch his cheeks.
His skin is cold, but that's to be expected. A vampire's body is always colder than a human's.
—It's always colder.
I lower my hand to his throat, searching for a pulse. These guys might be categorized as an undead species in the hunter's book, but unlike ghouls and the like, their hearts haven't stopped beating.
Seconds pass, and I feel nothing under my fingers. There's no—
"Thank God."
A sigh of relief leaves me. He's alive. Not in the best shape, but alive.
"Hey, can you hear me?"
James doesn't react. He doesn't flinch either when I pinch his cheek. It looks like he's in a deep slumber. No wonder, after the injuries he sustained, and the poison of the blood of the dead coursing through his veins. If anything, it's a miracle he hasn't kicked the bucket yet.
Well, considering his state, he might croak at any given moment now.
I bend a knee and lift my foot, staring at the heel of my shoe for a moment. Luck is on my side; Jordan has insisted I walk around with a hidden weapon, however small. If I get out of this place alive, I should thank him.
An instant later, I fiddle with the sole of the shoe and get the tiny blade out, almost dropping it in passing. These frigging hands of mine aren't working well.
It's too cold here.
Scott, calm down.
Not minding the pain, I cut my wrist deep enough to draw blood, but not enough to slash a vein—that was the plan at least. I might have cut a bit too deep.
It's fine. It's not too deep.
"I can't believe I'm doing this right now…"
But if I don't, he's going to die.
So, I get on my toes and press my bloody wrist against the vampire's mouth, lifting his chin to allow the blood to naturally trickle down. I doubt he'll swallow the blood without a bit of help, not unless his instinct gets triggered.
Gravity gets the job done, at last.
Time seems to tick slowly. I can do nothing but count the seconds, then cut my wrist again when the blood starts to clot. But no matter how many times it's going to take, I'll repeat the process until James's pulse stabilizes.
I'm not going to let this one die on me, not when I can do something to save his life, even if by doing so, I'm going against every hunter's rules. Fuck hunters. I don't give a damn rat ass about my clan and their stupid rules anymore.
I couldn't do shit when they took my mother away from me; I refuse to repeat that mistake.
"…Come on, get better already."
Please, James, I don't want to watch someone die right under my eyes ever again.
A warm sensation on my chin snaps me out of my thoughts. Oh. It seems like I've been biting my lips, and with a bit too much strength, too.
***
The sun is high up when I hear a grunt. James is finally waking up.
He sure has taken his sweet time.
"Where the fuck am I…?"
"Do you remember what happened?"
The question makes him jolt, and he lifts his head slightly, staring at me with his red eyes. Looks like he doesn't even have the energy to keep his human form, but if he has enough to speak and move, it's already a good sign. The worst is behind us. Most likely.
James lowers his gaze to my wrist, and I instinctively cover it with a hand. That's useless. I'm sure he can smell my blood and deduce what happened from there. No need to be a genius to get the picture.
"…Scott, did you feed me your blood? From your wrist?"
A weak grin follows those words. Good to know he feels well enough to tease me.
"Your mouth is not big enough for a fist, unfortunately."
"Try me?"
"…No."
A faint laugh echoes, and I can feel my taut nerves relax. We're not out of the woods, but James is alive, and that's a pretty damn good start.
Now, as long as they don't set the dungeon on fire, I think we can manage to survive for a bit longer. At least three days without water for me, if I don't freeze to death beforehand. As for James… Probably not all that long after my death, since he needs fresh blood to resist the poison circulating in him.
"So, now what?"
"I guess we wait. If we're lucky, my men caught sight of what happened, and if not… Well, I hope your husband is as good an investigator as he claims to be."
I lower my eyes to the floor. I can't answer that, since I haven't tried to learn more about his job, or him for all that matters, and have no idea if he's actually good at it or not. At the very least, I do know he's been right about the kobolds frequenting the nightclub.
…Maybe, if I survive this ordeal, I should ask Jordan a few things.