Better off Dead A Lucy Hart, Deathdealer - By Eva Sloan Page 0,86
quite hear you.”
Lucy gritted her teeth, pulling up her power around her, felt it scorch and lick out of her hot and angry. “Let me out of this house, you nasty bitch!”
Again Lucy felt herself weaken. She staggered backward into the wooden door, gasping.
Delia looked as if she were pondering Lucy’s command, rolling it around in her mouth as if tasting the very words. “Nope,” she said with a cheerful chirp. “Don’t wanna.”
Lucy felt the icy fingers of shock and realization climb up her spine. She could call up an entire graveyard of zombies, and she’d been able to control Delia before. What was different now?
The house, Lucy thought. The house and all those weird ass markings on the walls.
“Come on Luce…”—Lucy gulped. Delia had heard Gabriel call her that. And now, hearing it come out of the vampire’s mouth, made Lucy cringe—“Want to try that once more with feeling?”
“It’s the house, isn’t it? The creepy marking’s on the walls.”
“Now you’re getting it.” Delia paced around her, her eyes laughing. “Guess you’re not as dumb as I thought.”
The annoyed heat flashed in her head again, “Well, I knew it couldn’t be you.”
Delia’s face turned hard and angry.
“I mean, you didn’t paint all these marks. This is just somewhere you knew about. Some secret safe house you’re family owns. You probably have the mystical power of a doily.”
Delia smiled again. “Safe? No, this house is anything but safe.” She chuckled as she spread her arms out to encompass the entire building. “This is a house of interrogation, a house of torture.”
Lucy gulped reflexively. She didn’t want to know anymore about the house. And she certainly didn’t want to imagine the torture visited within these walls. She especially didn’t want to think about what kinds of torture this wacked out vamp would like to dole out on her.
“But you’re right,” Delia said. “It is the markings that keep your filthy little trick from working on me again. And no, I didn’t have anything to do with the magic of this place. The markings are old magic, the kind you don’t see much anymore. And they’re very specific. They make everything—except vampires—powerless within the confines of these walls.”
“I knew it.” Lucy waved her hand dismissively.
“Even though I’m one hundred percent sure what kind of power you actually have—I’m guessing you’re a necromancer—I’m sure you’re not going to be able to overcome them.”
Lucy’s mind was practically sprinting through all the thoughts swirling through her mind. If Delia had wanted to kill her, then she could’ve just done it while she was passed out. Why the whole kidnapping bit? Why drag her all the way to this hexed house?
“So…you’re just going to keep me locked up in this house?” Lucy scowled at her captor. “Cause if you are, I’d like a TV, with cable…and some better furniture.”
“What are you—?”
“And you’re going to have to call for pizza or something...no, make that Chinese,” Lucy continued like she was dictating orders to her personal assistant. “I’m dying for an egg roll, and some sweet and sour chicken.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Delia shrieked.
“Well, you went to a lot of trouble kidnapping me: knocking me out, dragging me here. And all for what?” Lucy brushed some dust and leftover grass from the graveyard from her sleeve. “I don’t see you killing me, especially since you had plenty of chances while I was passed out.”
Delia smiled again, her eyes brimming with excitement.
The bitch has a plan, damn it…
Delia said, “It occurred to me that if I killed you, I wouldn’t really get much satisfaction out of it, vengeance wise it’d be kind of short lived. I want Gabriel to feel this for a long time.”
Lucy glared at her. “Just get on with it already.”
Delia rushed at her, grabbed her by the throat and slammed Lucy against the wooden door again. She snarled, baring her teeth. “Patience…”
She let go of Lucy’s throat and pushed herself away from her. “There is a way,” Delia said with naked hatred in her cold blue eyes. “A very simple way to make sure you can never marry Gabriel…and yet keeps blood off my hands, figuratively speaking.”
Somehow Lucy knew what Delia was going to say. If she wasn’t going to kill her, and she wasn’t going to hold her captive—and once she was done Delia wouldn’t have to worry about Lucy and Gabriel getting married—that left one more alternative.
“So you’re going to…”—Lucy gulped down a huge, ice cold ball of fear—“to…”