Wicked as They Come (Blud #1)

Wicked as They Come (Blud #1) Page 56

“You’re back,” he said. “Have you got it?”

I nodded my head and pointed to my bulging cheeks. Then I pointed to the door and held my hand up at chest height with a questioning “Hmm?”

He didn’t get it, so I tried a pantomime of a slutty lady with fangs. Mr. Goodwill caught on and chuckled. He rang a bell, and when a servant appeared, he said, “Please ask Miss Scowl and Rodvey to join us.”

My cheeks burned, and the blood began to seep down my throat a little. I tried not to gag.

A few moments later, Tabitha Scowl swooped into the room, followed by my old, venomous friend Rodvey, who was obviously disgusted with the lot of us.

“Rodvey, please hold Miss Scowl’s arms behind her back,” Goodwill said conversationally, and quick as a snake, Tabitha was caught painfully and fighting Rodvey’s grasp. The fake locket bounced off her chest as she struggled.

“This wasn’t part of the bargain, Jonah!” she cried.

“It’s just a test of your loyalty, my dear,” he said kindly. Then he took my gloved hand to help me up from the bed and ushered me over to the tiny, squirming Bludwoman.

Just as I was about to spit the blood at her, Goodwill said, “And now, Tabitha, if you will, please remove the handkerchief from Mr. Stain’s mouth.”

Rodvey let go of Tabitha, and she chuckled darkly as she sashayed to Criminy and slowly removed the gag. Then she stood back, arms crossed over her chest, to watch the show.

Criminy took in a big breath and said, “Not to be too repetitive, but this wasn’t part of the bargain, Jonah.”

“Like you’d ever be peaceable after this,” Goodwill snapped. “You’d be at my throat tomorrow, or starting a riot, or telling the newspapers. You’re far too dangerous to live.”

“Where’s my costumer?” Criminy asked.

“She’s drained,” Goodwill said curtly. Criminy bared his teeth and strained at his bonds, and Goodwill held his hand out to me and said, “Now, Miss Paisley, if you will.”

I shook my head no.

“Give him the blood, or you both die.”

I gave him my most eloquent look of tortured pain over comically puffed cheeks.

“Now,” the old man said.

I walked heavily to the chair and leaned over to put my hands on the sides of Criminy’s face. Then I kissed him, parting my lips to let the blood rush from my mouth into his. There was a sort of primal sexuality to it, feeling the hot, red liquid mingle between us, and his tongue lapped it up hungrily. I almost swooned as I pulled away, and he couldn’t help licking the drips off his chin afterward, still watching me.

With hands over my face, I jogged to the basin and pushed the button for water, then rinsed my mouth out as well as I could.

“Alcohol?” I spluttered.

“Rodvey?” Mr. Goodwill asked.

“Left coat pocket,” Rodvey grunted, still holding Tabitha tightly.

Mr. Goodwill handed me the flask, and whatever was inside burned my mouth with fumes redolent of paint thinner. I spit it out and rinsed again, then rinsed with water. At least it wasn’t actually diseased. The rinsing was mainly for show. I was banking on Jonah Goodwill’s ignorance of modern infectious disease. Twenty years out of my world, and he’d probably believe we had colonized Mars.

Leaning over the basin, I willed myself to cry and splashed water over my face.

“What was it?” Goodwill asked me.

“Ebola,” I said. “It’s only communicable through bodily fluids, and I’ve been vaccinated. I’m a nurse, so I got the blood from a patient who had just succumbed.”

“I remember hearing about that one before I came here. That was clever,” he said, nodding appreciatively. “What are the symptoms?”

“From fresh blood, and without medication, it’ll be spasms, hemorrhage, and death,” I sniffled between sobs. “Within minutes.”

“Sorry about your man,” Goodwill said, in a voice that made it clear that he wasn’t sorry at all. “I’ll leave you two to say good-bye.”

Tabitha and Rodvey turned to go, but Goodwill stopped in the doorway, blocking them.

“That is,” he said with a cruel grin, “after he bites Miss Scowl. It’s no good if we don’t spread it around, eh? We’ll drain him afterward and disperse the vials, of course. But it’ll be good to have two fresh bodies of tainted blood.”

“Jonah—” Tabitha said, backing away.

“My name is Magistrate Goodwill,” he said sternly. “Now, bite her quick, boy. I’ve got a genocide to plan.”

Rodvey cut Criminy’s rope, and the Bludman stood slowly, focused on Tabitha. He stalked toward her, and she cringed away from him.

“Crim, no,” she said. “Remember our good times? Remember the caravan?”

“I mostly remember the island and the inn,” he growled, and then he leaped at her. They fell to the ground as he ripped the flesh of her neck, drinking deeply.

“Don’t drain her completely,” Goodwill said, unholstering a miniature crossbow and holding it up to Criminy’s temple. “I need her blud.”

Criminy pulled away from the blood frenzy, his pupils engulfing his eyes in black. Tabitha lay there, her skirts in disarray and her chest barely moving. Criminy was panting, and he wiped his face carelessly as he stood. He gave Goodwill an evil, blood-tinged smile.

“Thanks for the last meal,” he said, and then he twitched.

“Glad you enjoyed your own taste of death,” Goodwill said. “Rodvey, stay until he’s gone, then bring Miss Paisley to the dining room.” And he shut the door, leaving Rodvey behind with us.

“Die already,” the Copper said, with a lazy hand on his own holstered crossbow. “It’s nearly time for tea.”

Criminy twitched again, then spasmed, then went into a sort of seizure. Frothing at the mouth, he bumped into me, then caromed off the mirror and bumped into Rodvey, who shouted, “Get off me, Bluddy!” and pushed him away. I was trying my best to act distraught and betrayed and confused, but I wasn’t sure where to look. Criminy’s mad dance was both terrifying and hilarious, and he was spitting blood all over the place. An especially big glob hit the portrait of Goodwill, and I had to turn my laugh into a choked sob.

Then I heard a small thwack. When I next looked at Rodvey, there was a short, thick arrow sprouting from his chest. Criminy had stopped jerking around, and Rodvey’s miniature crossbow was in his hands, with one bolt missing.

“You’re a good shot,” I said.

“You’re surprised?”

“Not really.”

“So is this stuff actually going to kill me? Because that blood tasted delightful. Like you.”

“No, it’s clean,” I said. “But we’ve got to run. In about five minutes, Goodwill’s going to notice something is wrong.”

“Can’t I just pretend to be dead for a while so you can escape out the window?” Criminy asked. “Pretending to be dead is rather enjoyable.”

“No time to pretend,” I said, throwing open the curtains. “Back in my world, I injected his body with insulin. If it works the way I think it does, he’ll be dead here in ten minutes. It’s got some lag time, but he’s going to know there’s something wrong. We’ve got to get out of here.”

The window was all panes and couldn’t be opened, exactly what you’d expect from an antiquated, paranoid lunatic. I turned to search the room, but Criminy’s boot shot through the window, kicking out wooden slats and panes of glass into the bed of orange lilies outside. Taking my hand, he led me out into the bright morning sun. The day was gorgeous, glinting with raindrops and prisms and happy plants.

But there was no time to enjoy the rare sight of a nice day in Manchester. We took off running toward the far wall of the priory, and I could only assume that Criminy was going to find a way to boost me over the smooth white stones that rose at least eight feet tall.

“This would be a lot easier if I had enough time for a glamour. Can’t you run any faster, love?” he inquired, not even panting.

“It’s been a long couple of days,” I said, most definitely panting. “You’re lucky I haven’t fallen and dragged you down with me.”

“That sounds like my kind of fun,” he said. He laughed as he ran, and my heart swelled with unexpected love.

We were in the orchard then, running in a straight line between two rows of trees. The dappled shade flickered as we flew over the earth, and the cow stopped grazing to watch our progress with interest. It was probably the most exciting thing she’d seen in her entire life.

It felt as if we had been running forever and would run forever, as if the trees would just go on and on, one after the other. But the wall was closer, and my chest was going to burst soon, and Criminy slowed down as he angled toward a giant old oak tree with branches that swung conveniently near the high wall.

“Let me boost you up,” he said.

I lifted my boot, and he practically tossed me onto the lowest branch. I landed on my belly, my wind knocked out, and reached for the next branch. The slippery glove was almost my downfall, and I removed both of the stupid satin things and tossed them to the ground. The billowy sailor dress caught on twigs and under my toes and made upward movement almost impossible, but I tugged myself over two more branches and edged out, holding on to smaller branches to steady myself.

I could see the gritty streets of Manchester over the wall. It was amazing how filthy and bustling the world was outside Jonah Goodwill’s private Eden. A little girl in a full-body pinafore tugging a wooden duck on a string stopped to point at me, and her nanny scolded her for woolgathering.

“You’ve got to hurry, love,” Criminy urged.

I turned to snap at him, and my hand slipped. I nearly fell, swinging around and ending up with my back to the trunk, scrabbling for purchase on a crooked branch with arms flung outward.

It was no good. I was slipping, and Criminy was too far below me to help.