Chapter 7

“Now.” Stryker rushed forward with the blood-filled cup in hand to the edge of the electrocution chair. “You must drink before the blood congeals.”

“I know how a blood vow works, but I'm not agreeing to become a zombie for you or anyone. Get someone else to be your undead puppet.”

With a glance back at Herbert, who smiled a little too big, Stryker stood before me. “I wasn't asking and I will not risk you harming any of us. This spell is sealed.”

Herbert pointed his wand at me.

Magic slammed into me, making my mouth open no matter how much I fought to keep it closed, and Stryker poured the blood down my throat. I choked and gagged. The zenyar that bound me to the four seeped into me and into every cell of my being. Acid-like burning bore through me and settled over my chest. With each inhale, the pressure slowly eased until it left behind a dull heaviness. It was something I'd carry with me the rest of my life, or until I did what was beginning to feel like the impossible: find this blasted girl.

I glared at Herbert. As soon as I was able, I was paying the bastard back for this bullshit.

“Now get me out of this contraption.” Thanks to the blood oath, I couldn't strangle them or use my power to hurt them. Otherwise, the magic would backlash onto me, or worse, turn me into a zombie—thanks to Stryker. Guess being so old made him wise and he knew I'd try to do whatever I could to get out of this. Good thing he had put in that extra clause too because right now, I wanted to blast every one of them, even though it would earn me an execution.

After giving me an apologetic half-shrug, Sarah unbuckled my restraints. I leaped out of the chair and stalked toward Stryker.

“What the fuck was that?” I smashed a finger into his chest. “You've sentenced me to be a walking corpse.” Rage thrummed through my veins and I didn't care if I pissed him off and got in his precious vamp personal space.

“I did what was necessary.” He grasped my finger and bent it back, and I didn't give him the satisfaction of cringing, but met his narrowed gaze. “I suggest you and the others go quickly. Every second wasted will count against you and Daniella.”

Jerking away from him, I said, “When this is finished, you and I will have a nice long discussion.” I lowered my voice. “And if I turn into a zombie, you are the first one I'm coming after.”

He chuckled. “A zombie can't kill a vampire.”

“Oh,” I arched an eyebrow, “I can spell myself so when I am the walking dead, I'll rip out your heart and eat it. How would you heal from that one? And for fun, I might add tearing your head off, and have your brains for dessert.”

Behind him, Mason hid a smile with her hand.

I crossed my arms. “I'm not going anywhere without my stuff.”

“The front desk will have your things.” Mason held out her hand, but I spun on my heel and headed for the exit.

Opening the heavy metal door, I added a bit of earth zenyar, shouting, “Arrevatar!” and thrusting. The door knocked Patrick and Patches against the wall. Magic sang through me after not being able to use it while confined. Served them right for shoving me in that damn chair. I marched down the corridor toward the exit.

I was done with this place. The sooner I got this Daniella back, the sooner I could fulfill this damn blood vow and move on with my life, including finding the Terin's grandson and hauling his ass back here to prove I'd acted in self-defense. Maybe I'd even use the magical electric chair to find out whether a Terin was what had killed my parents. I wondered how much blood I'd have to bribe Stryker with for him to help me?

At the two-way square piece of glass, I slapped a palm against the window in the door. The guard snapped his head up in response.

“Open the door and give me my stuff.” My zenyar sizzled under my flesh, along with my anger.

“Let her out,” President Mason said from behind me.

Stryker was beside her, with Sarah coming up the rear, and Herbert trailing after her. Great, a freak parade, and I was the lead.

The guard saluted then fumbled for the keypad. With a buzz, the door swung open and I slipped through. I grabbed my cell, wallet, and black baton. The painted Rowen wood sang in my hand. Wizards were the most powerful zenyar users, but the catch was they always had to have a wand or stick to access the energy. Whereas, a witch didn't need any props, just a knowledge of spells and enchantments; only her magic wasn't as strong. I had a bad feeling that even with my dual heritage and ability to wield both, it wouldn't be enough for this mission.

I tightened my belt around my hips and tucked the billy stick in its loop.

The others followed after me, but I didn't slow my pace or stop until I pushed open the doors. The late afternoon sun winked behind a cluster of clouds. Well, at least Stryker wouldn't be joining us, so that was a positive.

A taxi screeched to a halt and the driver gawked at all of us. Guess he wasn't used to seeing Madam President prancing down the police headquarters' steps.

When I reached his car, he was fumbling for the camera on his phone. “Can I get a selfie with you, President Mason?”

She waved a hand and smiled, but then snagged my arm when I reached for his passenger door. “Please, do whatever you can, and bring her back.” Tears glistened in Mason's brown eyes, and I found myself nodding.

Damn, even without the blood ritual, I wanted that look off her face. The pain and unspoken anguish wrenched my heart. “I will.” What the hell was I saying? I couldn't even remember to feed my neighbor's cat when she was on one of her long work trips. With a pat on the President's hand, I ducked into the cab.

Herbert opened the door to get in with me, but I pulled it out of his grasp and shut the door in his face.

The window was cracked and he leaned forward against the outside of the car. “We're in this together.”

“Sure.” I smiled sweetly as I rolled the window down more. “Get your own ride. I'm afraid there's not enough room in this taxi for both you and your ego to fit.”

“Regan…”

“See ya.” I tossed a credit card through the opening between the driver and me. “Take me to sector thirteen, please.”

The cabbie balked. “You don't wanna go down there, miss. If you're looking for fae, let's go up to ninth. I know where a few decent ones hang out.”

Just like vamps had wannabes and groupies, some people wanted sex with fae. They were like the Gucci bags of hookers… only the rich could afford. “Nope, thirteen.”

He shrugged and pulled away from the curb.

Next to me, my cell chirruped. Dang, almost out of battery. I scrolled through my messages and cringed when several popped up from my boss, Barbara.

Should I tell her about Mason and everything? No, I'd tell her later when I had time, rather than hurry it now and sound like a raving lunatic.

I typed a quick text back.

Something's come up. Private client. Chat with ya later when done.

Either she'd buy it or she'd fire me. Nothing like heading out to certain doom and possible death and worrying about getting fired on top of everything.