Chained - Zara Novak Page 0,8

shape, the size of a man but with impossible speed. One second Draco was in front of me, the next he was gone. I dropped to my knees, clutching my throat as I gasped for air. The black cloud thundered through the library doors and barreled through one of the tall black bookshelves, launching Draco through walls of solid wood and books.

“Don!” Draco screamed in reprieve. “It was a mistake, I beg you, a mistake!”

They went out of sight and then the black cloud flew back. It arched through the air from a distant end of the library, flying over the bookshelves and candelabra with Draco in its grasp. It skirted the high vaulted ceiling and then came down again, crashing through one of the solid oak tables near the front doors.

The table exploded as Draco’s smashed through wood and books. I even heard the stone slabs crunch underneath him. The black cloud then took on the form of a man, who straightened and looked down at Draco, still writhing and groaning amongst the shattered remnants of the table.

It was Vincent.

“You come to my house and assault my wife,” Vincent growled. “You hurt her. You abuse her. You make her bleed. You threaten her.”

“I didn’t know, Don!” Draco pleaded from the floor. He was lying on his back with his hands held in the air, cowering in fear. “I wouldn’t have touched her if I knew, I swear!”

Vincent said nothing at first, he held out his hands and one of the splintered table shards flew up into his palm. “Too late. For this you die, Varsi.”

“You cannot kill me!” he pleaded. “I am a made man!”

“I’ll deal with those consequences later,” Vincent growled. He lifted his hand to strike the point down into Draco’s heart. Before he could Draco had other things in mind.

“Then deal with this!” Draco roared. As he said the words some sort of liquid sprayed from the hem of Draco’s right hand. It hit Vincent and he let out a cry, turning away from the assault to shield himself. In that short second Draco jumped to his feet, burst across the library and broke through one of the library windows, fleeing into the night.

Wind swept in from the cool night, bringing a whisper of sound to a scene which was now silent. Vincent was crouched on all fours with one hand on his face. His back was facing me. I tentatively put one hand on the library’s door and took a step forward.

“Are you okay?” I asked, not really sure what I was doing. Whatever Draco had just sprayed Vincent with had temporarily incapacitated my captor. I should use this time to carry on with my escape. I could use the broken window that Draco had left behind.

And find yourself alone out there with that mad man? A vampire that had just tried to kill you?

“Holy water,” Vincent growled, not removing his hand from his face or moving from his crouched position. “He must have had some sort of device in his sleeve. A dirty trick. Nothing I wouldn’t expect from a vampire like Varsi.”

I glanced at the broken window and then back at the corridor outside the library. I still had time to run.

But he saved you, and now he needs help.

My mind was caught between two places. Did I stop and help the bastard that had taken me as his slave in the first place? I knew what I had been getting into when I decided to work with the mob, or at least I thought I did. I knew the work came with the possibility of danger; I just didn’t expect that danger to look like this.

It wasn’t my fault that I was here, Vincent was not innocent, but I could not completely absolve myself of responsibility. If I’d been patient, kept my hands clean and stayed away from dirty work I never would have crossed paths with this mad man.

As things stood, he had just saved my life, and now he needed help.

I couldn’t believe I was doing this, but I did it, nonetheless. I let out a very deep breath and turned my back on escape. I walked forward, stopping a few paces behind the injured vampire.

“How can I help?” I asked. “Are you badly hurt?”

“The holy water got me pretty bad,” Vincent said. “It has burned my face and blinded my eyes.”

I swallowed and looked down at his crouched figure, wondering what he would look like now. Vincent Cartello was