Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

few inches above my hand. He had a cut on his hand, a wide open slash that was pouring blood. Some of it caught on the bars, but most of it slid down his fingers to drip on the floor. My neck and cheek were wet with it.
    I licked my lips and tasted something that might have been blood—or it might have been the finest elixir of some medieval alchemist. One moment it tasted like blood, iron and sweet, and the next it burned my tongue.
    Sparks glittered in the dark blood on the bars and sizzled on his skin where it touched the cage.
    His face was hidden against his upright knee. “It’s done now,” he murmured.
    I pulled back from the cage and then pushed awkwardly with my single good hand at his smoking limb, which was very cool to the touch, shoving Stefan back inside, away from the bars.
    Slowly, he pulled his hand in toward his body and then raised his head, shutting his eyes when the dim lightbulb, freed from the odd effect of the cage’s sorcery, came back on.
    â€œIt’ll only last for a little while,” he told me. “You’re still hurt, so be careful not to damage yourself more than you can help.”
    I started to ask him a question, but Samuel howled and Adam, turning his attention away from Stefan and I, joined in the chorus. As their cries died away, I heard someone coming down the stairs. It sounded like Littleton was dragging something.
    I dropped back to the ground, my hair over my face to hide it—only then realizing that I felt better. A lot better. Amazingly better.
    One of the hallway doors was pushed open with a crash. Through the curtain of my hair I watched Andre fly through the doorway and land in an ungraceful heap on the floor.
    Littleton liked to throw things.
    â€œYou didn’t do it right,” the sorcerer complained as he dragged a limp red werewolf through the doorway by one hind leg. “You have to do what I tell you. I didn’t tell you to kill the wolf, it’s not even midnight yet. You are not going to ruin my fun with an early kill.”
    He looked over at us, or rather at Stefan. I closed my eyes most of the way, and hoped my hair hid them well enough that he didn’t realize I was awake.
    â€œI am sorry,” he said contritely as he approached Stefan, still dragging Ben. “I haven’t been much of a host. I didn’t realize you were thirsty or I’d have provided a meal. But then I suppose I just did.”
    He dropped Ben in front of me, then nudged me with a toe. “I might have played a little with this one,” he said with a sigh. “But humans don’t last as long anyway. Maybe I’ll bring in a few more for food for you though. It might be fun to turn them loose in here and make you call them to you.”
    Ben wasn’t dead, I could see his ribs rising and falling. He wasn’t healthy either. There was a flap of torn skin on his hip that oozed blood, and one front leg bent oddly about two inches below the joint. I couldn’t see his head because the rest of his body was in the way.
    Littleton went back to get Andre. He picked him up and carried him like a lover as he brought him to the light in the center of the cages.
    With Andre still in his arms, he sat down next to the light. He arranged the other vampire on the ground like a doll, pulling Andre’s head on his knee. Andre’s face was covered with blood.
    I licked my lower lip and tried not to enjoy the buzz of vampire blood on my tongue.
    Littleton bit himself on the wrist, giving me a glimpse of his fangs and then he put the open wound over Andre’s mouth.
    â€œYou understand,” he murmured to Andre. “Only you. You understand that death is more powerful than life. More powerful than sex. If you can control death, you control the universe.”
    It should have sounded melodramatic. But the fevered whisper lifted the hair on the back of my neck.
    â€œBlood,” he told the unconscious Andre. “Blood is the symbol of life and death.”
    Andre moved at last, grabbing Littleton’s wrist and holding it to him, curling around it. Much as a starving Daniel had curled around Andre’s wrist during Stefan’s trial. I wished the lingering touch of Stefan’s blood didn’t taste so good.
    Andre opened his eyes and looked up.
    I expected his eyes to be glowing, as Daniel’s had been. Instead they were intent. Like Adam’s had been, his eyes were focused on Stefan.
    Littleton