Trapped Page 6

  Miranda sniffed out something about the woman and ignored the mental screaming taking place in her head—in flat-out denial. She knew she was not alone in being a monster, but this—it just could not be. She shook it off and stepped further into the castle.

  “Shall we start the tour?” Elisonde asked.

  “Yes, please,” Miranda responded, attempting to keep the quiver out of her voice.

  Elisonde led them through the cold and drafty castle at what could only be called the perfect pace. The place was enormous and Miranda wanted to soak it all in, falling apart and partially crumbling or not. She looked at each room shown lost in such awe that before they had even gotten halfway through the tour Elisonde had planned, Miranda blurted out, “I’ll take it. Do you take a check or should I wire the funds?”

  Elisonde did not say anything or move, for a long moment, letting a small smile crease her face. She stepped forward to shake Miranda’s hand, saying, “That’s the fastest anyone has ever come to a decision to buy I’ve ever had. Congratulations, Miranda. This castle is yours.”

  She went on to give Miranda the address of the bank they were to finalize the paperwork at and each entered their respective vehicles, but not before Elisonde handed Miranda the oversized, old iron keys. Miranda paused before getting into the rented Mini and stared at the castle, almost unable to believe she was finally about to cross yet another item off her bucket list. Teddy had gotten into the car, started it, and turned the heat on while Miranda continued to ogle her new playhouse slash vacation house slash whatever-the-hell-she-wanted-to-do-with-it house. Teddy was a bit on the apprehensive side, particularly due to how much work would be needed to make it habitable, and he expressed that concern to Miranda once she got behind the wheel. She brushed it off, knowing none of that mattered in the immediate or near future. The only concerns she had were signing the paperwork and coming back to decide which gargoyles were to be shipped back home to Tampa. She may have been in complete and immediate denial of what Elisonde truly was, but she could smell that unmistakable musk and sense magic and the stone that would come alive at her command.

  They drove on to the bank, taking in a few sights and being the typical slow driving tourists Miranda was determined they were. When they arrived at the bank, Elisonde was waiting again to greet them and showed them into the office of Mr. Dunfield, who would be helping them fill out the paperwork correctly and taking payment. From start to finish, the process only took an hour—an hour, which both Miranda and Teddy found odd. In America, a closing process could take anywhere from forty-five minutes to four hours and their first closing process was on the tail end of the latter. Mr. Dunfield made the whole process easy and smooth. Miranda and Teddy took turns shaking Elisonde and Mr. Dunfield’s hands and thanking them. We’re telling you, Miranda, that is one wicked bitch. Okay, I believe you, I really do. If she challenges or attacks first, I will defeat her and whatever she has at her disposal. I am not the one to screw with and you two fools know this. Now shut the hell up about her already. I have gargoyles to pick out for home and, oh shit, guess what! I OWN A FREAKING CASTLE! Miranda was so giddy and excited to finally own a castle she could have peed herself but held it in.

  Back to the rental and castle her and Teddy went. They were both so excited and shocked that neither one of them could speak the whole ride back. When Miranda pulled into the driveway and got out of the car, she asked, “Should we name it?”

  “Name it? Like what? Castle van Wolfe?” Teddy joked, almost choking on his words.

  “No, jerk, something foreboding and cool, not something like our last name. What about Castle Katana, Home of the Werepire,” a hysterically laughing Miranda responded, also choking.

  In truth, she wanted a katana of her own and would undoubtedly have one, today just was not that day. Maybe a trip to Thailand or Japan next year would be in order. For now, she settled on not naming the castle, though. She did not want to give away what she was in the name, but maybe give it a discreet name, one of which she could not think of at the moment. It was time to pick out her two gargoyles to have shipped back home. They walked the oversized property for miles, round and round. Sixteen total gargoyles stood guard in all sorts of places. Miranda picked the two scariest looking near the main entrance and decided which one would have what name. King Nightmare was made of some sort of black stone; Emperor Bête Noir was what appeared to be concrete, but she could not be totally sure, given the amount of discoloration and green moss growing on him. He’s gonna need a good cleaning. Looks like we’ll be needing that Billy guy to handle that. She lingered a few minutes longer and absorbing all of this castle—her castle—was and would be before getting back into the rental to go and be tourists.

  They drove to London proper first, admiring the scenery between the castle and the city. Many villages and small towns littered the countryside. Miranda found it one of the most beautiful places she had ever been, though she did not have much to compare it to having only lived in four states in the US. Finally in Central London, they found a car park and hoofed it around town. Of course, Miranda wanted nothing more than to see Big Ben, the Royal Palace, and of course, the Queen’s Guard. Then she intended to float around a bit more another day and see where her grandmother grew up if it was not too far away. For now, however, they chose to shop and eat, marking the places they would be coming back to. Miranda wanted the full tourist experience and she took every opportunity she could to take photos, stop at historical sites, and wander in and out of pubs. She felt at home here, which was great, since she would be spending time here given she just bought a castle.

  Yet there was a feeling of being watched she could not shake. She watched everyone, everywhere out of the corners of her eyes and saw no one following. Instinct, and her monsters, told her otherwise. She knew Elisonde was watching her every move from somewhere, but where and how? She is like us. She is? How? In what way? That she’s a monster, too? We already figured that much out. But what kind of monster? One of you has to know by now. We’ve spent hours with her already. We have, but we are not entirely sure if she’s werewolf or shifter. How in the twelve hells can neither of you tell the difference between a werewolf and freaking SHAPESHIFTER?! Oh, wait, shifters can take on werewolf traits. SHIT! Are we screwed? Nah, Miranda, this is you we’re talking about. You kick major ass, woman! You cannot be stopped in a battle. Don’t doubt yourself now. You guys are right. I am badass. Thanks for the pep talk, now let’s work on figuring out what she is.

  Miranda and Teddy enjoyed their time in Central London until midnight when Teddy revealed he was exhausted. They walked back to the rental car and drove back to the hotel. Miranda, again, had a difficult time sleeping. Am I seriously that worried about Elisonde? What the shit is wrong with me? The last time I actually cared about anyone affecting me was Venus but I ripped her throat out, and, damn, did she taste good. I wonder if Elisonde will taste as exquisite or will she be better? Supreme in every way? Only one way to find out, but I’m not attacking first. She has to start this battle.

  Eight

  Today’s trip was to where Miranda’s British heritage started—Portsmouth, Hampshire—about seventy-two miles away, or a little over a two-hour drive. Miranda asked Teddy to drive so she could nap on the way given she had gotten somewhere around an hour or so of actual sleep the night before. She was also feeling particularly dark today; she was in the mood for human. But how? She was in a foreign country for the first time in her life and harbored little desire to eat someone in her grandmother’s birthplace. We could always go back to London and find some random person. Yeah, but knowing how things work out with me in unknown places, we could potentially end up eating an off-duty cop. No thanks. Looks like we’ll have to be social at a pub in London to pull this off. I’ll taxi it to the castle and have Teddy handle the rest. No one will hear the screams, even out in the fields surrounding the castle. Oh, this is going to be so delightful!

  I
t was a true shame Miranda’s grandmother could not remember the address, but Miranda was just as happy exploring Portsmouth. It was an adorable place. They spent a good chunk of the day there until Miranda filled Teddy in on here werepire plans and excessive hunger. She may have been in a terrible mood and angry, but this was her birthright and she was finally getting to see it. The bloodlust started as small pangs turning rather quickly ravenousness. It was time for them to go. They still had a day left to come back—if Miranda could manage to fight the hunger long enough to not eat anyone—as Miranda still had to schedule the transport of King Nightmare and Emperor Bête Noir back home.

  Back to London they drove, this time Miranda taking in the scenery, wringing her hands and biting her lower lip in starvation, causing bleeding she was only too happy to snack on. She had gone through awful bloodlust before but never like this. This was all new to her. A horrendous cackling filled her head. At least you’re smart enough to know you can’t beat this. You have to give in, even when you’re uncomfortable doing so. Good human. Are you sure you don’t want two people? Or is the bloodlust not that great yet? This will continue if you keep fighting who, and what, you are. May we suggest you stop that fight and just succumb. NO! At least not fully. Not yet. It’s too soon. Let’s see the shitstorm that follows us home and go from there.

  As they drove, Miranda felt, again, like she was being followed. She looked in the mirrors to check, but nothing stood out. How is this possible? She keenly felt what she could only assume was another werewolf in close proximity. What she failed to realize was a bus driving in the same direction—the bus Elisonde was on, heading to the same place Miranda was. It was also possible she was being willfully ignorant; she was known to do so when trouble lurked. She tried to plan out what action she would take should she run into Elisonde again before they left for home, but did she even care? Anything that was going to happen would take place on her turf and her terms. She had yet to lose a battle and had no plans on starting now. Deciding to simply remain cautious was the best course of action . . . for now.

  Back in the same car park as the last time, Miranda and Teddy wandered into a pub they had not been in before. It was run-down looking, inside and out, akin to a hole in the wall bar back home. It was the perfect place to meet someone, or someones, who would not be missed. Miranda chatted up a few of the drunkards, sizing them up for taste and how easily they would scream in pure terror. She found three such people, all men. What a pity. Hahahahaha! Mischievous smile on her face, she chatted them up a little more to narrow it down to one or two, which was dangerous enough. She was being followed and watched by another werewolf. A werewolf who was familiar with this land and could offer suggestions. A werewolf Miranda did not want to call out yet. She settled on the muscular man, smelling his decadent blood and knowing his meat would prove divine. She kissed the man on the cheek, said goodbye, and nodded to Teddy on her way out. She hailed a taxi and went to the castle. On the way there, she called the shipping company and requested the haulers be brought immediately for the gargoyles. The man on the other end of the phone sounded overly excited, in Miranda’s opinion.

  The taxi pulled to the main entrance and Miranda paid the driver. He asked if she wanted him to wait and she thanked him and told him that would not be necessary. She walked over to King Nightmare, still in awe of his black beauty. His eyes locked onto hers and they shared visions of flying over Tampa at night, all over Florida really, and reaffirming she had chosen him correctly. They both smiled their dreadful, evil smiles. She then approached Emperor Bête Noire, cautiously, feeling his power and apprehension of her own power. He closed his eyes to her and in response, she gingerly placed a hand on the side of his face. Her cold hand felt good and he could also feel an instant connection to her.

  “Emperor, there is no need to fear me, I promise,” speaking softly and stroking his face like a cat.

  His eyes opened and he stared into her soul. He imparted visions of Miranda on his back, soaring the night sky raining blood. Raining blood? You can see the future, can’t you? Not just raining blood but fire surrounding the chosen battlefield. Holy shit, you can see the future! This moment was too tantalizing for Miranda, so she closed her eyes, breaking the connection. Then a noise, tires on gravel, signaled the shipping crew had arrived. Both gargoyles smiled in unabashed happiness; they had finally met a master deserving of them. The long truck carried crates and a forklift, with five surly men in the cab. Miranda directed them to King Nightmare and Emperor Bête Noir and they immediately set to work. They had both of Miranda’s new children crated and loaded, strapped down and all, in under thirty minutes. This impressed Miranda. She signed all of the paperwork and tipped each man one hundred dollars each. They tried to refuse but Miranda would have none of that, telling them to consider the money a reward for a job exceptionally executed. That seemed to satisfy the men and they happily got back in the cab and drove off.

  As soon as the truck left the driveway, Teddy pulled up with the man Miranda had carefully chosen as her next plaything and subsequent dinner.

  “Hey lover,” she greeted, approaching the passenger side and the man got out of the Mini that he was a little too large for.

  Teddy shook his head and laughed. He was not evil in the same sense Miranda was, though he was just as twisted. As agreed, he waited in the rental until Miranda was finished.

  Miranda took the man by the arm, inserting hers into his, and walked him into the castle, babbling about how she had just purchased the place and would return frequently, continually flirting. Miranda opened the front door to the now darkening interior of the castle and the man stepped in, entirely unknowing and willing. With a wink at Teddy, Miranda followed and closed the door.

  She led the man, whose name she did not remember, nor care to, down to the basement, unsure if the castle had a dungeon. It, in fact, did, which delighted Miranda to no end. She tied him up to a contraption, called The Rack, used in medieval times as a torture device to separate arms and legs simultaneously. The man thought it was some kind of sex device until Miranda began cranking the handle and his arms and legs stretched so far he thought they would dislodge, but she stopped just short. She tossed her coat to the floor, no longer feeling the cold, but the heat of the hunger and anticipation. Stepping back to admire the display before her, she laughed.

  “Sweetheart, did you think I was to be your plaything? Think again.”

  She howled and bared her teeth, showing a full set of canine teeth with longer-than-should-be incisors. Even in the dark that was the dungeon, they glittered and gleamed. Then she laughed; that horrible vampire laugh—as evil as Lucifer himself, though it had been determined she was much worse than even him. She lunged at the man tied to The Rack, caressing his face, giggling, and smiling. She whispered words of comfort, “It won’t hurt, don’t worry,” though the man hardly believed it. He knew he was going to die a most excruciating death and now found himself regretting even going to the pub that night.

  She licked the sweat from his neck, delighting in the taste of fear in it, and cranked the handle just once more around. Four popping sounds occurred all at once, which made Miranda hop and squeal with joy. She kissed the left side of his neck, flicking her tongue at the corroded artery, and in a flash bit, hard, until the blood flowed into her mouth. Exquisite! Miranda, you are truly talented at bringing out the best flavors of fear! She had only drunk a small amount, half a pint, and pulled back. She wanted him to suffer more fear; it would make the blood taste that much better. The cortisol, serotonin, every other hormone produced when a human was terrified for their life . . . no words could describe that taste.

  Circling The Rack she watched the man squirm, heard him beg for his life, but she did not hear the actual words; he sounded like a bleating lamb, screaming until it finally died from bleeding out. One more crank of the handle and the man screamed at such a high pitch, Miranda thought she may have split his scrotum, but, sadly,
that was not the case. She had only managed to stretch his muscles beyond any kind of repairable shape. Turning to face him, her lips and the corners of her mouth blood-stained and upturned into that horrific smile for what the man hoped would be the last time, she approached slowly, teasing him, making him hope for an instantaneous death that she would not give him. No, he had to suffer—for no other reason than it made his blood and heart taste better. Her face mere inches from his, he thought she may try to kiss him; to make him taste his own blood. He blinked and her teeth were sunken into his throat. He tried desperately to scream for help, for the man who brought him here to save him, but Teddy saved no one, not tonight.

  Miranda tore a small chunk of esophagus out, chewing slowly so she could enjoy the flavor. Then she poked a finger at his chest. Not hard, but enough to feel his heart beating so hard and so fast she feared he may bleed out before she had the chance to make her last move, all but ensuring his death. She pulled her hand back and jabbed straight through the center of his ribcage, flesh and bone, grasping his heart, feeling it beat. Pulling it out slowly, knowing the chemicals flowing through it would be the most delicious, she watched the horror in his face.

  “Hey lover, I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to eat your heart while you watch for the last few moments your brain is still alive and able to comprehend.”

  She put the heart, still beating, up to her nose, sniffing the glorious scent, and then sunk her teeth in. She finished eating just as his eyes closed for the last time. Miranda quickly went to work untying the man from The Rack, grabbing his now lifeless body, and throwing it over her shoulder fireman style. She took the body upstairs and out into the field. Teddy had gotten out of the rental and walked with her, lighter fluid, a lighter, and salt in a bag in his right hand. Miranda heaved the body, covered it in salt and lighter fluid, then flicked the flint wheel. Just a spark, nothing else. She flicked it again and the flame came to life, blue and yellow and orange and red, in all its heat and beautiful glory. The smell of burning flesh was enough to make anyone lurch and vomit, but Teddy was somewhat accustomed to it from his time in Iraq and Afghanistan, and Miranda enjoyed it as though she was having a barbeque.