The Watcher (Page 42)
I'VE GIVEN NO THOUGHT TO HOW I'LL OVERCOME Martinez and the woman, Marta. I am vampire. I am stronger, faster and deadlier than any human. I stand quietly and wait, curious to see what they have planned.
Marta pulls another syringe from her pocket. She holds it up to the light and turns it this way and that, as if in a bizarre show of respect for the substance in her hand.
"This," she says, "is very special. It is my own invention. A drug that immobilizes muscle but enhances the senses. Pleasure. Pain. Exquisitely enhanced. Your body will not be able to respond, but you will feel every cut of the razor, be aware of the blood draining from your body, experience life slowly slipping away. And when you are dead, we will do the same to Max. But his suffering will be greater because he will have watched his beloved die in unspeakable agony and have been powerless to help."
Martinez shoves him back, places a hand on his broken ankle and leans into it.
Max groans, writhing with the pain, sweat beads on his face.
I spring at Martinez before he has a chance to react. I throw him to the floor, clawing at his face, ripping at his neck with my teeth. Blood sprays from torn arteries, soaking us both. I hear Marta scream, but it's from far, far away. I feel a sharp prick. Marta is beside me. I swat her hand away, pull the syringe from my arm, lunge again at Martinez. I lock him against my body and use teeth and hands to tear at his flesh. I'm beyond wanting to drink. I want to rip his head off his body. My jaw locks on his neck. His mouth is open, his lips move, but if he's screaming, the sound is blocked by the roar of my own blood. It boils in my veins, colors the whole world crimson. It's all I feel, all I taste. Blood. Hot. Red.
His blood.
Then.
Nothing.