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Chase stepped into the long corridor, where only two low-voltage lights lit up the space. The sound of feet shuffling echoed as the prisoners came to gape from behind the bars. The cold in the room held on, but Chase decided to worry about remaining with the living instead of looking for the dead.
“I smell fresh meat,” a were said, his eyes already gold. With the full moon tomorrow, he would be at his strongest. He reached his arm out, and came within a few inches of touching Chase. He sensed another prisoner’s arms reach out behind him. Leo wasn’t joking about staying in the middle. One step to one side or the other and Chase would be within a prisoner’s reach.
Still, Chase didn’t react. He knew they could smell fear.
“Young meat,” another prisoner said.
“I smell blood,” said the occupant of cell six, his face pressed against the bars. Chase studied his forehead to see his pattern. Vampire.
He kept moving until he got halfway down the long hall, where he spotted cell eleven. The room was in shadows. Chase thought he could make out a man on the cot, but he wasn’t sure.
“Yes, I’ve got blood.” Chase pulled his backpack off his shoulder. That brought a few more of the prisoners shuffling to the bars. “And I’m sharing with anyone who can tell me what I want to know.”
“For some of that there blood, I’d give you my mama,” said a man in cell eight.
“I’m looking for a man named Douglas Stone. Vampire, probably in his mid- to late forties.” Chase kept watching cell eleven, hoping Mr. Pope would show his ugly face and some interest. Chase unscrewed the top of the bottle.
The scent filled his nose, almost hiding the stench of this place, and he knew the others could smell it as well.
“I know him,” said the guy in cell eight. “I’ll tell you exactly where to find him as soon as you pass me that there bottle.”
“Where do you know him from?” Chase listened to the man’s heartbeat. And had to concentrate over the sound of one of the weres bending one of the bars. Chase just prayed the bars held up long enough for him to get the information.
Chase took a long sip of the blood. “Anyone else want to try?”
“Why are you looking for him?” The voice came from cell eleven.
“Got a few questions for him.” Chase looked into the cell.
The man stepped out of the shadows. Jet black hair and dark blue eyes. His nose looked like it had been broken more times than it could be fixed. A scar ran from his eye down to his lip.
It must have been a dirty fight. Literally dirty, because vampires healed quickly and didn’t normally get scars. They were sort of like cats, and if the wound was dirty it would get infected and abscess, requiring the wound to be reopened. From the looks of things, Pope’s face had to be reopened several times.
The vamp inhaled as if just breathing in the scent of blood fed his soul. Leaning forward, he wrapped his fists around the bars, giving Chase an even better view of his scarred face.
“You know where I might find Mr. Stone?” Chase took another sip of blood, hoping Pope would be compelled to answer before Chase downed the entire eight ounces.
“I might be inclined.” The prisoner licked his lips and his eyes turned light green from the smell.
“Do you know where he lives?” Chase listened to the man’s heart.
“I know where he hangs out. He never lives in one place.” He put his hand through the bars. “Hand me that blood and I’ll tell you what I know.”
“I told you, I know,” yelled the guy in cell eight. His arm came through the bars. “Give it to me.”
Chase ignored the older vampire. He drank all but the last few precious drops and only then did he hand it to Pope. “Here’s a taste. If your info sounds legit, I got another one in my bag.”
The man snatched the bottle.
Chase could hear him swallow, trying to suck down every last drop.
He heard the grunting and growling sound of the were in cell one as he attempted to bend the bars. Chase’s time was limited.
“He buys and sells houses all over Houston,” Poke said. “Now hand me the damn blood.”
“I need more than that.” Chase looked back at the were’s cell and saw that he had his arm and part of his shoulder through the widened bars. Thankfully, his chest didn’t quite make it.
Growling, he looked at Chase. His eyes glowed an evil orange color and he latched on to the bars and went back to working on the metal.
“There’s a Douglas Stone somewhere in the old part of the Heights,” said Pope. “Now give me more.”
“Where in the Heights?” Chase pulled the Taser out from the waist of his jeans, just in case the were freed himself before Chase had the info he needed. Then with his other hand he pulled out the other bottle of blood.
“Last bottle,” he said, unscrewing the top. “And I’m thirsty.”
