Rye stopped, frowning at her. She knew he was going to hunt for April and had probably assumed it would be in the underground. How did she do that? Where the hell was Blaze to busy her with some mundane task? He shook his head without a word. She raised her eyebrows and gave him a knowing look.

“Oh, fine,” he grunted, stepping past her and into the exit hallway. It would be pointless to tell her not to follow him. Like April, she did what she wanted. She could always pull rank on him, too. Irritated, he continued on out the entrance and tossed his duffle bag into the back of the van. She did the same, slamming the door shut and jumping into the passenger side. She looked giddy, happy to be out of the confines of the hive. He couldn’t blame her. He had also felt suffocated in the there−waiting and worrying.

The day was cloudy, the air thick with moisture from the recent rainfall. It was flashflood season, leaving most of the sun blocked by obnoxious clouds that threatened to dump their water all day long but failed to do so most days. That is, until they were so loaded they dumped it all at once, on one spot and flooded the area. So far they hadn’t dumped their cargo onto the dried earth, but the humidity didn’t make the growing heat bearable.

“I want you to know that I am totally against you coming with me.”

“I know.”

Rye sighed. It was no use to keep Miranda out of it, and at least he would have someone to back him up when Blaze told him off for disobeying. Always better when trouble had company.

“Headed to the Wynn?” Miranda’s sing-song voice broke the silence. Rye nodded, still lost in thought and concentrating on the ravaged road. Why the hive hadn’t just cleared the most frequently used roads was beyond him. He’d have to bring it up to Blaze next time he saw him, if he wasn’t raging mad.

“We’ll find her, Rye. She’s resourceful. I’m sure if she’s in a mess she’ll find a way out of it.”

“I know, it’s just that, I don’t understand why she doesn’t trust me enough to help her.”

Miranda shrugged and glanced out the window, the looming buildings of The Strip growing bigger as they neared the center of the city. “Maybe she just isn’t used to having help. She’s been alone a lot longer than we ever were. Just give her a break. Let the bird fly. She’ll come back.”

Rye shot her a worried look. He wanted to believe that, with every fiber of his body. What if she didn’t come back? What if she was meant to be free forever? He shuddered in his seat, trying not to think bad thoughts. April would come back; he had to believe that. She was just curious about the humans.

He reluctantly realized that he was, too. What was down there? Were there a few of them or many? What would they think of him, a hybrid vampire? Were there others like April down there? His heart ran cold thinking that there might just be. Others like her meant that she would no longer be alone. She might find comrades among them. Would he, then, be the outsider if she no longer needed him for anything?

Driving up to the Wynn, he scanned the parking lot for her car. Not spotting it, his eyes ran over the parking structure, a tall multi-leveled thing that screamed of horrors inside. Maybe not, but the clouds in the sky would let the feral vampires roam a bit more freely and earlier out into the streets, just like he was doing. He’d have to proceed with caution and make sure they wouldn’t get overwhelmed before they even got that far. He hoped that April had that much sense when she had entered here. The darkness holds many things. Some things were dangerous, with sharp teeth and insatiable hungers.

Entering the garage was easy enough; no ferals in sight. As they approached the third floor, he spotted the walkway to the casino and April’s car at the same time that Miranda shouted “There’s her car!”

He pulled up next to it, taking care to strap on his weapons first. He glanced around the car before jumping out. To his surprise, a lone feral wandered down the way between two abandoned cars, heading in their direction. It was moving slowly but would be sure to speed up once they left the car and their scent drifted toward it. Rye pulled out his sword, gleaming and shined to perfection. He felt disappointed that he had to muck it up already, but that was the way things went.

Heading toward it, he swung the sword with a snap, sending the feral’s head flying into a red truck. Its body dropped immediately, spraying out dark black-red blood. He headed back to April’s car where Miranda was inspecting the inside of it.

“She was here alright. She left willingly from her car.” Miranda paused, staring at the double doors that led to the casino. “Well, at least we know where she went. I….” she stopped and turned back toward the rear of the garage, her eyes flashing in horror. “Rye, there’s more!” She pulled her own sword out, not wanting to use her guns until absolutely necessary.

Rye spun around, ready to pummel another straggler but was shocked to find a herd of them, coming around the corner from the upper levels. There must have been twenty of them or more. He hoped April had not run into such an ambush, making him realize that there had been no bodies left around her car. She had not run into any, so why was there a bunch here now?

It dawned on him that this was no coincidence. Confirming it as the first of the ferals jumped toward him, snapping its jaws and stretching to reach him with languid fingers. They hung broken, like he’d been clawing at something for a long time. He went down easily but another replaced him just as quickly. Miranda was already piling a bunch up as she took on one after the other, slicing them up and letting their bodies thump on top of each other as they came.

Rye kicked the next one, sending it to its knees before decapitating it, its fingers still curling up toward him in one last attempt of scraping up a meal. They were also broken, the skin rubbed away to the bone. He’d only seen this on ferals that had been trapped, stuck in rooms or buildings where there was no way out.

As more poured out from around the bend, he quickly realized that most of them had the same affliction: broken fingers and torn skin all down their arms. Someone had trapped them, pinning them up somewhere to await a time to use them. Somehow they had been grouped together and let loose when Rye and Miranda had arrived. It was a trap, just for them.

Great.

“There’s so many of them!” Miranda’s voice was laced with doubt. Doubt that they could make it out of here. Rye glanced behind them. The doors to the Wynn Casino sat looming like a cathedral entrance. There was no way to go but inside. He’d have to bar the door the moment they got inside. He was sure there would be latches on the inside to lock the doors. The only problem would be if they were already locked.

“Mir, we have to go inside, there’s no way we can take all of these.” He grunted as one bit into his forearm. He pummeled a fist into the side of the feral’s head and sent him flying into a few others. Rye swung his sword again, slicing through three ferals before pulling out his second sword. The dual sword fighting helped keep them at bay as he backed up toward the entrance. Miranda took the lead and ran to the doors, slamming into them. They swung inward, enveloping her with a billow of dust. Rye followed right behind, pulling the doors shut as Miranda pushed on them as hard as possible, waiting for the horde to slam into them.

Rye’s hands flew up to the locks, one on the top and one at the bottom of the doors, sliding the last one into place right before the thunder of bodies slammed into the them. One after the other they pounded the metal, over and over. He prayed the locks would hold. He helped Miranda off the floor as they turned their eyes into the swallowing darkness.

“Someone put them there. They were expecting us,” Miranda’s voice quivered. She produced a flashlight and sent the beam over the hall in front of them. It was quiet, deserted and still. Footprints stood out in the dust, stark against the dingy carpet. Only one set, which meant that whoever had penned up the ferals had not gone through the casino. Perhaps there was another entrance, another way in. For now, they had only to follow April’s footsteps, the only clue as to where she had gone.

They proceeded on, taking the path of the smudged footprints and scanning the blackness of this cement tomb over and over again. Coming upon a fallen feral, Rye’s heart surged. A clean cut to the neck signified that April had her swords with her and had made it this far at least. She must not have triggered any traps when she’d come this way before them. That trap had been laid out for further intruders, as if expecting someone to follow her down. He gritted his teeth, thinking about what that meant. If they expected more to come, or even just thought it remotely possible, then April had been captured, or they knew of her presence. He hoped it was the latter, because down this rabbit hole, there was no telling what would surface.

Chapter Twenty

Blood and Tears

April

I DON’T KNOW how he does it, but Christian knew his way through the city as though he had once lived there. We constantly dodged people, swept through doors and locks like nothing. I knew my face was a constant mask of flabbergast as I watched him work his magic. After a while, I suspected he was hiding more than he let on, and my curiosity was getting the best of me. Only the need to be silent kept my mouth shut until we had more privacy. If the size of this place was any indication, I wouldn’t have answers for a while.

Finally ascending along hidden staircases and back hallways, we made it to what looked like a massive boiler room. Large generators hummed loudly and the place was in constant vibration as they worked. I prayed it was well ventilated; I didn’t want to die from carbon monoxide poisoning and gas fumes down there. Christian motioned for me to follow him, occasionally putting his finger to his lips, hushing me to be even quieter. This irritated me, but I complied, knowing it was our only way out. At least any fumes would mask the hideous odor from my clothes. I felt sticky and nasty. Hygiene had not been a concern while in unbearable pain.

As we scurried through the rows of machinery and metal, it was a wonder he could hear anyone at all. He pulled me to one side, pressed his chest against me and lodged us into a crevice between machines. As one of the workers passed by, we held our breaths. I was surprised Christian didn’t repulse me as I thought he would as his body melded into mine. Now that I was fully awake and feeling much better with his blood coursing through me, I felt amazing, almost invincible. If it had been up to me, I would have done away with anyone that got in our way. But Christian was more resolved and in control, keeping me in check and both of us in the shadows.

My body was betraying me. Feeling him so close was sending tingles all across my skin. My breath came in short gasps at his proximity. I shook my head, clearing it as he stepped away, pulling me along. I frowned. Discovering that our bond was so amplified when we touched, I yanked my hand from his, afraid to touch him, afraid of these feeling whirling inside. I didn’t love him, but my blood screamed to be near him. It was intoxicating, and I hadn’t been prepared for it. I resented him with every morsel of my being. It was never supposed to be like this.

If only Rye or even Elijah had been able to get me out, this would not have happened. That damn witch woman had ruined my life in more ways than one, sticking me with Christian, of all beings on this earth.

But did I hate him? Did I loathe Christian for doing this to me? It had been all in the name of survival. That much I understood perfectly. Now would be the final test. Would this be worth it? Would living through this be even worse than death would’ve been? Chewing on my lip, I tried to distract my mind with other things, like getting the hell out of there. The engine room was so long I thought it would never end.

Finally, Christian came upon a door on the left side of the massive room, tucked in a darkened area with some junk piled before it. Obviously it was not used at all, but this was where he was headed, so the pile was definitely problematic. He started shoving the stacks of plywood, metal sheets and a metal cart to the side. It wasn’t exactly quiet work, and I cringed at every scrape of metal and every tap of sound we made. When the pile had been moved enough to crack open the door, we slipped through, miraculously unnoticed.

We found ourselves in a tunnel, similar to the huge wash channels outside in the city, but lined above and along the sides with large pipes running the length of it. Intermittent lights joined the pipework, but some were busted or burnt out. No one had come here in a long time, and I wondered where under the hotel we had ended up. If this was an abandoned entrance to the city, it was pretty much neglected. I hoped that meant that there wasn’t much to fear. I doubted they would leave it so unguarded if there was cause for any concern.

Still, my insides twisted as we moved on. The air was musty and damp. One pipe leaked down the side of the tunnel, leaving an orange-colored rust stain mingled with green slimy muck snaking down the bricks. It pooled at the bottom and ran as a small stream under our feet, where the packed dirt squished, turned into patches of mud from the leak. I wondered where this led or if we were even headed the right direction. Again my suspicions about Christian’s knowledge of this place made me wonder if he did know where we were going. I couldn’t wait any longer; the need for answers pushed at me, unrelenting.

“Christian?”

“Yeah?” he whispered, glancing around as though we might have been heard. Relaxing when he heard nothing, he kept walking.

“How do you know where to get out? How do you know so much about this place?” I watched him stiffen as he came to a stop, confirming my thoughts. He did know more about this place than he had ever mentioned.

He sighed, finally turning his head partially toward me. “I used to work here. I helped build it.” Resuming our walk, he said nothing further. I, however, had a thousand more questions.

“What do you mean? You helped in its construction? Did that lady know that? Does she remember you?” I bit my lip, attempting to be patient as the questions leaked from my lips.