Alex Van Helsing Voice of the Undead - By Jason Henderson Page 0,61

punch to the side of Alex’s head, and all went dark.

Chapter 27

“One freaking drop,” came the voice from the haze. He blinked his eyes and felt the sting of his contact lenses, swiveling them around. His head was singing like crazy, and the voice of Elle boomed in it and reverberated with the concussive echo of Steven’s blow. Vampire could throw a sucker punch.

“One . . . freaking . . . drop!” came the voice again, screaming this time, and he shook fully awake, aware that she was screaming in his ear before he saw her there.

“Oh, Elle, you’ll be the death of me,” Alex said, so close that he could smell the strange mixture of death and mint that vampires all seemed to have for breath. He looked past her and saw a giant cloth wall stretching up endlessly, a sheet. He’d spent so much time surrounded by sheets lately, but this was an industrial kind, probably made of heavy wool and wax.

His arms were above his head, Alex realized, and he looked up to see that they were tied together with rope. The rope extended up to some sort of hinged boom or crane, fifteen feet above his head. Then he looked down.

He was twenty feet off the ground, his feet barely touching an iron beam. Below, he saw a wooden pier, and black water lapping against it. The water extended a hundred yards across to another pier.

He was in a boatyard of some kind, for building and fixing boats and rolling them back out onto the lake. Down below, on the dock, the Merrill brothers waited, watching as Elle continued haranguing him from her perch on the iron beam next to him.

She had gotten rid of the leather coat and was wearing Scholomance whites, with tight leggings and little white leather boots, and a tight wrap around her body that ended in a pulled-back hood. “If you hadn’t shed that one drop, we’d be done by now.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked honestly.

“I’m talking about Claire,” Elle said. “It was all supposed to happen that night. She’d be back to lead us—to lead me. And I was ready for that.”

Alex blinked against the sweat on his brow, feeling some of it stream into his eyes. He blinked as it swished around, threatening to unseat his contacts. “The skull-headed lady?”

“The new queen is not a skull-headed lady,” Elle said, eyes blazing. “That was just her way in. And she needed blood. And she got some—from you. And then, you little insect, you got away before she could finish.”

Alex lost his footing for a second and sank with the rope before finding it again. Yes, okay. He had it now. That night at the Villa Diodati, Icemaker had cut him, briefly. The cut on his neck that had taken a few weeks to heal. “Elle, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Icemaker barely cut me.”

“One drop,” she repeated.

It was possible. He thought back, forcing himself back to the night in the cellar, the skeletal form behind the veil. Icemaker had lifted him up with one strong arm and put a sharp fingernail to his neck, hissing, “She needs more blood.” And he’d cut. And then Paul had arrived.

Hey, Paul, now would be a good time.

“Blood is blood, isn’t it?” Alex said. “Right?” But of course not. Or else Elle wouldn’t be this bonkers about it.

“Oh, I’m afraid not,” Elle said. “Once you were part of the sacrifice it had to be you that finished it. I had to haul the queen back to the Scholomance myself and hide her away like a doll because she wasn’t done yet.”

“Ahhhh,” Alex said, staring into her insane eyes. “That’s what you wanted my blood for. That’s why you sent the Glimmerhook, to suck it up.”

“As long as you died it was supposed to be fine. The Scholomance would have been happy, and I would have your blood.”

Alex looked around. “I don’t see any resurrected queens here. Well, there’re the Merrills.”

“Hey!” Bill shouted.

“You’re gonna love working with him,” Alex said to Elle.

“I’m not taking you down to her,” Elle said. “The administration won’t allow it; they’ve completely lost interest in resurrecting Claire.”

This was what Sangster had heard about the Scholomance. The project for Claire had been canceled. Because they didn’t have the blood they needed, and they’d moved on.

“Maybe she’s not a queen, Elle,” said Alex with a hint of desperation. He glanced at Elle’s stance. Maybe he could kick