Page 29 of The Bloody Ruin Asylum & Taproom (Sam Quinn #7)

Twenty-Three

A Bloody Mess

It was late, or I suppose quite early, so Clive and I relaxed under the covers. I turned onto my side and he moved in behind me, wrapping an arm around me.

“Go ahead and sleep, love. It’s been a long day and night,” he said. “I’ll watch over you.”

I’d intended to stay awake and talk. Unfortunately, too little sleep did me in and I was out.

I’m walking across the cold white marble of the entry and hear whispering.

I stop at the door to the gathering room, where the voice seems to be coming from but find only Sebastian, standing alone in front of the fireplace.

Head tilted up, his focus is on the dark-eyed, angry man in the frame.

I can’t hear what’s being said but I see the portrait’s lips moving.

I take a step toward them and they both turn to glare with murder in their eyes. I flinch and then…

I’m climbing stairs. With each step, the staircase flashes, strobing between clean and bright and old and dingy.

Where is this? No one’s mentioned the upper floors of this building.

I assumed they hadn’t been remodeled yet.

At the top, I step out into another ward, white—leaning toward gray—tiles beneath my feet.

A Gray Dress hurries down the hall, her arms laden with an overflowing basket of dirty linens.

Muffled cries and shouts from locked rooms echo down the hall, but I don’t follow the Gray Dress. Instead, I see the back of a woman I think is Léna turn down the far left hall. A dark wood floor shines in the low light. Wait. Where are the white walls and tile?

I look back to the right. Where a moment ago a Gray Dress was, I see more dark wood, carved moldings, a bookcase, and a different portrait of the angry man.

I follow the back of the girl I’d seen earlier. This place looks nothing like the asylum, so I suppose it must not have been Léna. Unless she’s guiding me through others’ memories now. My head hurts. I wish I knew what was going on.

Crossing to what I think of as the men’s side of the asylum, I turn the corner and feel immediately chilled. There’s no lamp, so even the weak, yellow light I’ve accustomed myself to is gone. It’s deeply shadowed, the only dim light coming from open doorways along the hall. Where did the woman go?

I stop and look through a doorway, finding only dust and a stripped mattress on a metal frame. The image flickers and it’s a plush sitting room. A woman with large, frightened eyes sits in a chair, her hands clutched in her lap, her knuckles white. Flicker. An empty asylum room.

I don’t like this. The whole place gives me the creeps, but this hall in particular has a bad feel. Just being here makes me wish for a long, hot shower to wash away the sticky grime of cruelty and abuse.

Looming at the end of the hall is a tall wooden double door.

It looks nothing like anything else in the asylum, nothing like the remodeled Guild.

Heart racing, I don’t want to go anywhere near it.

I feel the evil from here, but I can’t stop my legs from carrying me closer, can’t stop myself from reaching out and pushing open the door.

Flames roar in a huge fireplace. Shadows move. A man—the one from the portrait—in a dark tunic with gold embroidery that glints in the firelight moves across the large room. His movements are somehow both elegant and menacing. Dark hair tied back, a trim black beard, his lips curl in a sneer.

And then I see the young woman I’d been following. Long dark hair curtains her face. She wears a burgundy gown with flowers embroidered at the waist. Eyes downcast, she seems to have quietly accepted her fate.

He growls something, his words like dagger thrusts.

Cringing away, she almost disappears into the voluminous draperies, mumbling what sounds like Apa. Are they father and daughter?

He shouts and she flinches, pulling in, making herself smaller. When he doesn’t receive the response he seems to want, he takes her by the shoulders and shakes her, holding her a foot off the floor. She struggles, but at one look from him, she subsides.

He brings her face close to his own and snarls something. Eyes closed, she droops. He spits in her face and then throws her farther than a human could. She hits the far wall and crumples as he stalks out of the room.

I go to the young woman, but there’s nothing I can do to help. Ages separate us. I can only stand witness to her pain.

Pushing herself into a seated position, she wipes her face and leans against the wall. She pulls her knees up, curling in on her pain. Here, close to her, I can see her eyes. The man’s were a fiery black, but hers are a shimmering lilac, a color no human has ever had. Are they fae?

Wiping the crystal tears from her golden skin, she firms her petal pink lips as she stands, bracing herself against the wall with one arm until she can stand on her own. She walks to the door, water lilies blooming in her footsteps before they wither and disappear in her wake.

I follow her out of the room. Where did she go? Even the flowers on the floor are gone. I travel down the hall, but it’s far longer than I remembered. None of this looks familiar.

The lights flicker and the walls change.

I’m somewhere else entirely. This is the exam room I’d seen in the basement.

The man in the white coat from the bleeding photograph is here, as is Léna.

He has her strapped down to the table, a Gray Dress assisting him.

Léna looks terrified but is talking in a calm voice, repeating something.

The White Coat slaps a hand over her mouth while he says something to the Gray Dress.

The Gray Dress looks between the two, clearly uncomfortable, but he barks at her and she goes out to the hall.

The White Coat’s tone changes. Now his words are quiet and soft as he runs his hand over Léna’s cheek and down to her shoulder.

No. Not again. I whip out a hand, claws extended, but they slide right through the White Coat. Léna, though, turns her head away from him, blinking back tears, and meets my gaze.

With a jolt, I was in the dark and instantly alert.

Quiet footsteps were rounding the bed. Clive was beside me, his arm still wrapped around me.

I didn’t move, didn’t change my deep breaths, but I pulled in his scent.

Renfield, and one I recognized. This was the one who’d handed Clive the poison, who’d followed me into town.

I almost sat up and asked what the hell he was doing in here when I caught the scent of metal and oil that said gun.

I needed him a little closer. Clive had a tendency to hold on tight when we slept, but I needed room to move.

The Renfield had come around the bed, which told me I was the target, not Clive.

Daring to barely lift my eyelids, I saw a sharp, thin beam of light aimed at the floor but moving to the head of the bed. This was it.

With Clive pinning me in place, I swiveled my legs out from under the covers and kicked the Renfield into the wall, giving me a moment to get out from under Clive’s arm. Leaping, I took our intruder to the ground, slamming his head against the wooden floor.

“Sam?” Voice groggy, I heard Clive move in bed.

“I got it,” I said. “Go back to sleep.”

While the Renfield was knocked out, I slipped on a robe. Beating people up while naked was super uncomfortable. I flicked on the nightstand lamp. Where had the gun gone?

Eyes on the wannabe killer, I considered what to do with him. He’d tried to kill me. Was I supposed to send him back to the vampires with a pat on the head, saying, Better luck next time?

Kneeling, I looked under the bed for the gun and felt movement behind me. I spun, seeing the gun pointed at my head, and swatted his hand down just as he pulled the trigger.

The bang was deafening, especially this close. Eyes wide, he stared, uncomprehending. The bullet had torn a hole in his lower abdomen. Blood had begun to pool beneath him as he spat a stream of angry Hungarian words at me. Clive was suddenly standing in front of me, pushing me back.

Handing me the gun, he gestured to the other side of the room. “Darling, move away, please, and while you’re over there, perhaps you can tell me what’s going on.”

Standing in the doorway to the bathroom, I said, “I woke up to someone in the room. He had a penlight and a gun. He was about to shoot me when I kicked him into the wall. I thought he was out cold, but I forgot what you said about black-shirted Renfields being stronger. Anyway, he came to much faster than I’d thought, and he had the gun again aimed at my head.

I smacked it down and he ended up shooting himself. Is that smell normal?”

“Yes,” Clive said, dragging on his trousers. “He ripped holes in his intestines. It’s a painful death he has in front of him.”

“You could take away his pain,” I suggested.

Clive looked at me as though I’d grown a second head.

“As he tried to kill you—twice—I don’t think I will.

” He punched the Renfield, putting him out for real this time and stopping all the Hungarian cursing.

Lifting the man’s feet, Clive dragged the creep across the room to the bedroom door.

He swung it open and revealed Vlad standing in the hall.

“Was that a—” Vlad looked down at the bloody Renfield. “Ah, I see it was a gunshot.” He glanced through the bedroom door, his brows furrowed.

I waved. “I’m good.”

Clive looked back at me. “Sunset isn’t too far off. I’m going to move him before all the others awake.”

“We may be cutting it close,” Vlad said. “I’ve noticed a few others rise before the sun goes down.”

Vlad went with Clive, no doubt to get the story. I, on the other hand, showered off the blood spatter and got dressed, ready to deal with the fallout. There was no way the vamps were just going to accept a dead Renfield, especially a black-shirted one, if I was involved.

When I came out of the bathroom, Clive was dressed and our bags were packed. “Gather your things, love. I’m getting you out of here.”

I grabbed my toiletry bag, stuffed it in my suitcase, and put on my running shoes.

After strapping on my axe, Clive helped me into a short jacket and we headed to the door, only to find Sebastian, a very angry Thomas, a one-armed Delores—who gave me an appraising look—an expressionless Cadmael, and Vlad. Who winked.

“Clive,” Sebastian said, “we can’t let you go. Thomas is rightfully angered by his assistant’s death.”

“Whereas, I,” Clive began, moving in front of me, “am angered by Thomas sending his assistant to murder my wife in her sleep.”

Sebastian raised a hand. “Now, now, we can’t know exactly what happened. Before Thomas’ man succumbed to his injury, he told us your wife shot him.”

I stepped to the side of Clive to better see the vamps in the hall. “He brought the gun into our bedroom. He walked around the bed to me and aimed it at my head. His intent seemed pretty clear. I defended myself. And he ended up shooting himself. I never touched the gun.”

“No one cares what a dog—”

Clive had Thomas by the throat against the hall wall. “Apologize or I take your head.”

“Tempers are high,” Sebastian said, “but that doesn’t mean—”

Clive slammed Thomas against the wall again. “Now.”

Thomas was not without skills himself. He struck out at Clive, knocking him back. Sebastian and Vlad stepped between them.

Pointing at me, Thomas said, “She must pay for the life of my assistant. It is my right.”

By this time, other vamps had left their rooms to watch this play out.

I had to pay him? How much did assistants go for, and could Clive loan me the money?

“I will stand in her stead,” Clive said.

Thomas shook his head. “She stole from me. It is my right to challenge her.”

Oh, shit. He didn’t want cash. He wanted to fight me.

Sebastian looked at Clive. “I’m afraid he’s correct. It is his right to challenge her. We can’t let you leave until this is decided.”

“Watch us,” Clive growled.

This was about to get ugly fast. Sebastian was a weak paper pusher and Thomas was clearly an asshole, but Clive could be doing a lot of good for the North American Masters, assuming the Guild survived our visit.

I patted Clive’s shoulder. “It’s okay.” I turned to Thomas. “You can smell your guy in our room. Clearly, he was trespassing. How is his death on us if your guy was where he shouldn’t have been? With a gun?”

“You probably invited him in,” Thomas countered. “We all know about dogs in heat.”

Clive tensed under my hand, so I stepped in front of him.

“So, your theory is that although I’m married to one of the most intelligent, powerful, and drop-dead gorgeous men in the known world, I chose to invite the human with the weak chin and the crazy eyes into our bedroom, knowing full well that Clive can wake when the sun is up? That’s your thinking at this moment?”

Vlad’s mustache twitched but Thomas’ eyes were more than a little crazy as well.

Tilting my head back, I whispered over my shoulder, knowing everyone in the hall would hear, “Apparently, there are no intelligence tests for Counselors.”

Thomas leapt forward but got slammed back by Vlad

Sam, don’t. I’ll handle this.

Not this time. I’ve got it.

“Vlad was in your room,” Chaaya, one of the Asian Counselors said. “Perhaps three is what you enjoy.”

I sighed and glanced at Clive. “I knew that was going to bite us in the butt. Oh, well. If Mr. Angry Pants over here wants to blame me for his own stupid assistant shooting himself, then whatever. So, what do we do? Arm wrestle? Poker? Foot race? No word puzzles, though, okay? I’m surprisingly bad at those. ”

Sam…

It has to be done. I’ll be fine.

He’s very strong and an excellent fighter, Clive told me.

Are you saying I’m not? I’ll kick his ass.

If you die, I’ll be quite put out.