Too late for regrets… too late, her mind told her. Or was it her father's voice? Sounded like Dad, something he'd say. She drew on the comforting thought and clung to it. It was all she had.
Within very close range of her she heard Matisak drinking her blood from a mason jar.
Some of your blood, he had written in the letter. And now he had it.
He had been clever, like a champion chess player, making his move only after a feint, using his pawns-Gamble and Lowenthal-wisely. She had been checkmated; he had won her as his final prize, a prize he meant to squeeze blood from. And like a predatory animal, he had stalked her without her knowing just how close he had crept on silent feet, to pounce when she least expected it. He held her body now with the same reverence a tiger gives its life-giving prey. She had become the slain deer and her precious life was being stripped from her by the predator. She brought up the sheer power of the hatred she held for this monster, Matisak. She drew on her hatred for strength.
Her eyes still shut against him and his awful proceedings, she heard gas escape from him. He was burping after draining a jar of her blood. He would be coming back for more… and more… and more… until there was no more.
She tried to concentrate on her father, recalling his kind features, his loving manner, but his face coalesced into that of Otto Boutine. She clung to Otto's image.
Meanwhile, around her she half heard the killer stacking up the instruments that fulfilled his sick desires. She heard the rattle of bottles and the movement of heavy tools. She fought back the fear.
“ Fight, Jessie. Fight and hang on,” she heard her father's voice from deep within. Her father had taught her to stand up for herself, to be tough and independent; how to hunt and trap, but he had never foreseen the day when she would be in the trap.
She struggled just the same, fighting against hope to regain the strength she would need to slow Matisak down.
She forced her eyes open to the horror before her. Gamble's body still lay where it had fallen in a pool of purple blood, discolored by the lack of light. Matisak was prancing ponylike about the small, crowded space, very much pleased with himself. He was now crouching over his brown valise, staring into two vials of semen; it must not be Gamble's semen. In order for his ruse to work, Teach must use some anonymous supply, likely stolen from a sperm bank. This time, he must even leave the vial along with his tools and case, to further implicate Gamble.
His back to her, she curled her body forward at the waist, and being double-jointed, she brought her tied hands from her back to her front. At the same instant, he sensed her movement, stood and rushed at her, fearing she intended to snatch out the spigot, to destroy a second one, allowing herself to bleed to death very messily in the bargain. She saw his charge, and with her extended fists, she madly and blindly struck out at him, creating of her fists a deadly weapon, as she had been taught at the academy.
The doubled-up fists caught Matisak in the temple, knocking him off balance, his weight grazing her as he lost his footing, tripping over Gamble. This caused her entire body to sway within inches of the gun he had used in killing Gamble, which was left now on a coffee table.
She reached for the gun, but it was just beyond her fingers. She swayed her body with as much power as she could muster, her hand extended toward the gun. Matisak kicked out at the table at the same instant her hand wrapped around the gun. She had it in her grasp. The gun slipped but she caught it by the trigger guard and held on, dangling upside down.
She heard Matisak scrambling about the floor, suddenly afraid of her, but he could not be seen. Did he have another gun? A knife? She tugged with one hand at the gag in her mouth while keeping the gun pointed ahead. As she half freed the gag, she realized that he was coming up from behind her, about to pounce. She swiveled, bringing the gun around and firing, missing him but sending him diving away into the darkness again.
She saw the scalpel gleaming in the night beside the briefcase. Where was he?
She opened fire, exploding the jar of blood she saw on a nearby end table, a jar of her blood.
“ Damn you!” shouted Matisak, and she fired at the sound of his voice, missing him. She tugged at what remained of the gag, freeing herself of it.
“ The sh-shots will bring police, Matisak! You bastard. You'd better run while you have the chance. Go on, run! Run!” Her voice was filled with venom and hatred and the wise use of her academy training which taught that intimidation was half the contest in a confrontation. “Go on, run!”
He did run, and she fired at the black shadow as it pounced on her, ripping the gun from her. She knew he was shot, but not fatally.
She screamed as loudly as she could nonstop, trying desperately to alert someone outside the house, but even the gunshots seemed to have been ignored.
Matisak fell back from her, the gun now in his possession. He brandished the gun in her direction as if he would pull the trigger, but he failed to do so. A quick end would be welcomed, and it would be out of keeping with the vampire's modus operandi. She taunted him to shoot, saying, “Go ahead, shoot! Shoot, you bastard! Kill me, damn you! Kill me!”
But the shot did not come. Matisak stumbled, losing his balance once more, weakened by the shock of the gunshot to his side, staring at his own blood and trembling to see it running from himself.
Matisak passed out.?
THIRTY-ONE
Using her teeth, Jessica tore at the rope holding her in bondage, knowing she hadn't fatally shot Matisak, and that her time was limited. She struggled with her bonds, animal fear motivating her. Unable to get her hands free, she curled toward her ankles where the feeling had gone dead in her feet. She tried to get her weight off the rope, remembering that so long as there was a dead weight on the knot he used, there was no way to free it.
Once she managed to lessen the pull of her body against the rope, it was not hard to remove the noose about her ankles. She was holding tight to the beam where her hands fit through the same groove as had been used to loop the rope. She carefully lowered herself so as not to jar Matisak.
The moment she was on her feet, she crumpled to the floor. She realized only now that she was unable to stand or to walk, that Matisak had severed her Archilles tendons. She knew that unless an operation was performed tonight, she'd lose the use of her legs permanently. Even if she did receive the necessary medical attention, she was certain no one would give her any guarantees she wouldn't need a cane for the rest of her life.
She lay now alongside Gamble's lifeless body, his blood matting her hair. She heard Matisak moan, disturbed from his blackout, coming around slowly.
At her throat bobbed the now heavy, disturbing object that had been the instrument of death used on all of Matisak's previous victims. She had instinctively reached up to it, wanting to tear it away, the same as she might a disgusting leech, but to do so would cause her a further loss of blood, weakness and dizziness.
The bastard so nearby, trying now desperately to come to, had crippled her, possibly for life, but he had also scarred her throat. He had also reached down into her sacred soul deep within her, and he scarred this, too, with the acid of his aberration.