"Leave him alone, you pervert," Emma muttered as Alek hauled her into the room.
"Shut up." Alek yanked her arms back. "I need some rope to tie her."
"But of course." Brouchard exited the room, but Emma could still hear him. "You will tell Casimir I was very helpful, yes?"
"Of course," Katya assured him. "You do have a mortal guard for the daytime, don't you?"
"Ah, yes. Hubert." The way Brouchard pronounced his guard's name, it sounded like Oo-bear. He minced back into the storeroom and handed Alek some drapery cords. "Will zhese do?"
"Yes." Alek tied Emma's wrists together behind her back.
"Take her tote bag," Katya reminded him.
Emma cursed silently as Alek cut her bag off with his knife. There went her cell phone and stakes.
Brouchard giggled. "You have made her angry." He patted her on the cheek. "You must behave during zhe day, ch. Do not make my dear Hubert angry. He can be very cruel."
Emma pulled away from Brouchard's chubby hand. "Then maybe you should whip him."
Brouchard yawned. "Oh, but I have. No doubt, it is why zhe poor brute is so foul-tempered. Poor Hubert."
Alek shoved Emma onto the floor next to Angus. "If you try to escape, Hubert will kill you both."
"Come, mes amis." Brouchard strolled from the room. "We must have our beauty sleep."
Alek closed the door. Without Brouchard's candle, the room was very dark. Emma remembered seeing some old chairs and tables pushed against the walls, but nothing useful for escape. She listened to the sounds in the next room. Once the vampires were dead for the day, she would only have Hubert to deal with.
"Emma," Angus whispered. When she gasped, he continued, "Speak softly so they willna hear."
She wiggled closer to him. "Has the poison worn off?"
"No' quite. I canna move my arms or legs. Emma, I will fall into my death-sleep soon. If ye can escape, ye must."
She started to protest, since she didn't want to leave him. But he was right. Her best chance for escape was during the day, and she could always bring back help for Angus. "All right. I think we're in Paris."
"Aye. Go to Jean-Luc Echarpe's studio on the Champs-Elys. The daytime guards there work for me. They can help you."
"Okay." She was still tied up, though. "Is your dagger still in your sock?"
"Aye. Take it." His speech became more slurred. "My sporran. I need the flask. Hide it... underneath me."
"Underneath you?"
"In case they take my... "
"Sporran?" She waited, but he didn't reply. She laid her head on his chest and heard nothing. He was gone.
A mournful feeling invaded her heart, and she suddenly felt like crying. Everyone she'd ever cared about had died. How could she stand to lose one more? "I'm so sorry. This is my fault."
She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She needed her wits about her. Angus was counting on her. She rotated about so her head was next to his feet. Then she wiggled around till she felt her fingers make contact with the hilt of the sgian dubh hidden under his sock. She managed to pull it out, then sat up to saw through the cords binding her wrists. It was a slow and awkward process, but she kept at it.
So far, no sound from the other room. The storeroom seemed a bit lighter. She spotted a few slivers of light at the top of the far wall. Perhaps a small window that had been boarded up? She would need to make sure none of the sunlight fell on Angus.
She could barely make out his profile in the dim light. He'd told her the truth from the beginning. There were good vampires and bad ones, and Sean's activities with the Stake-Out team were nothing but a nuisance, getting in the way of the good Vamps who wanted to protect mankind. If she ever survived this, she was quitting her job.
Aha! The cords finally broke free. She slipped the knife into her belt, then dragged Angus's body to the darkest corner of the room. Heavy footsteps sounded in the wine cellar, and a shadow dimmed the light under the door. Hubert was there, listening. She needed to act quickly. She opened Angus's sporran and dug around. Thank goodness he carried a purse. She smiled to herself, imagining his reaction to the word purse.
She located the metal flask, then wedged it underneath his back. Normally that would be very uncomfortable, but poor Angus was dead to the world right now. She pulled out his cell phone and opened it. Whom to call? Connor was first in his directory, so she called him.
She glanced toward the door. Hubert might hear her talking, so she should text message instead. Unfortunately, the connection to Connor never went through. Shit. She wasn't getting a signal down in this hole.
She slipped the phone into her pocket and carried a chair over to the far wall. It looked like a fragile antique, so she hoped it would carry her weight. She climbed onto the cushioned brocade seat and reached for the window. Too high.
She found a wooden table about the size of a card table, light enough that she could carry it. She set it carefully beneath the window, then climbed on top. Now she could reach the slats nailed horizontally across the small window. She curled her hands around two slats and yanked. They held firm. She lifted herself up and peered through the gap.
There was a dingy narrow street. Sunlight dappled in puddles of rainwater that gathered in the broken pavement. Footsteps approached.
Emma glanced back. No sign of Hubert. The footsteps drew closer. There was one gait, heavy and determined, and a smaller one, quick and light with a pattering sound. A dog, perhaps.
"Psst!" Emma hissed. "A moi!" She flinched when a wet, black nose suddenly nuzzled her hand. Okay, so she had the dog's attention. Now if she could just contact the owner. The dog pranced about excitedly. A white poodle with a pink bow on its puffy head.
"A moi! Aidez-nous," Emma whispered as loud as she dared.
The poodle barked, loud and shrill. The dog's owner shouted and yanked on its leash. They hurried away.
The door behind her slammed open.
She dropped onto the table and turned. Light spilled into the storeroom from the wine cellar, along with the smell of sausage and eggs. In the doorway, a bulky black shadow loomed.
"Brouchard said you would be trouble." Hubert entered the room. His accent was as thick as his neck and arms.
He charged, bellowing like a bull. Emma remained on the table. She landed a good kick to his chest, but it only slowed him down. He grabbed one of her ankles and yanked. She fell onto her rear, but used the momentum to roll back, then forward. She kicked Hubert hard in the gut. He stumbled back. She jumped to the floor, whipped the knife from her belt, and lunged forward. The knife slid in with horrifying ease. He cried out, then collapsed backward onto the floor.
Emma stood over him, the bloody knife in her hand, and her stomach churning. Shit. She was used to killing vampires. They didn't bleed like this. They simply turned to dust.
Hubert writhed on the floor, moaning.
"Hang on. I'll get an ambulance." She'd find her way to Angus's security men on the Champs-Elys. But first there were four vampires in the next room who needed to be staked. Angus's knife would work just fine. She strode toward the door.
A board slammed into her face. She fell back onto her rear as lightning jolts of pain zigzagged across her face. Her eyes saw double for a second, then focused on one man standing in the doorway. He was small and thin.
"You made a fatal error, ch. I am Hubert. And I am prepared for the likes of you."
She scrambled to her feet, but he swung the board at her head once again. She collapsed to the side. Her head throbbed. The knife tumbled from her hand.
With a groan, she turned her head to see him. His figure wavered as pain shot through her.
He withdrew a syringe from his coat pocket. "I should kill you for what you did to my dear Rolfe." A stream of liquid squirted from the needle.
Emma willed her body to stand up and fight, but her brain was too battered to get the orders out. She felt the floor beside her. Her fingers touched the hilt of the knife.
"But my master wants you alive. So I will only make you sleep." He stepped toward her.
She struck at his shins with her feet, and he stumbled back.
"Bitch!" He leaped on top of her and stabbed the syringe into her neck. Instantly his face grew hazy.
He leaned forward, sneering at her. "You should not have made me angry. Now I will have to play with you while you sleep."