The Cyn & Raphael Novellas

by D. B. Reynolds

  Raphael nodded. “Juro, have your team set up on this side of the border. They need to hold our escape route open.”

  Juro didn’t say anything, but he didn’t look happy. And Cyn wasn’t the only one who noticed.

  Raphael smiled slightly. “We’ll take two additional guards and a second SUV, but it won’t make any difference. We all know this confrontation isn’t going to be about numbers.”

  Cyn listened to this exchange and tried to make sense of something the others clearly understood. If Raphael thought that the number of warriors at his back wouldn’t matter, then that meant he was expecting to meet a master vampire, or maybe even another vampire lord. But despite his enemy’s obvious duplicity at every turn, Raphael seemed to be expecting a stand-up fight. That seemed crazy to her. If the enemy vamp was powerful enough to meet Raphael in a one-on-one, he wouldn’t have bothered with the charade of Alexandra’s kidnapping in the first place, would he? All he would have to do is step over the boundary to Raphael’s territory and wait for him to come calling.

  But that’s not what the enemy had done. They’d gone to all this trouble because they wanted Raphael in Mexico, in Enrique’s territory, or more to the point, away from his own. They obviously thought by getting him down here, they could defeat him. But why would they think that?

  Cyn stood, drawing the attention of all three vampires. “You guys haven’t changed,” she said thoughtfully. “You still think your enemies play by your rules. But they don’t. There’s more to this than meets the eye. Alexandra’s the bait, sure. But what’s their game? When the trap springs, what’s going to happen?”

  They all gave her identical blank looks, and she was not reassured to realize that they didn’t know the answer to that question any more than she did.

  Chapter Five

  DESPITE THE CHANGE in rendezvous point, they still flew into Del Rio, Texas, in order to avoid the hassle of Mexican Customs. Traveling by private jet had its advantages, but avoiding Customs wasn’t among them. Any of the vampires traveling with them were capable of influencing the mind of a human Customs official, but it wasn’t worth the effort in this case. Acuña, Mexico was a short ride over the International Bridge from Del Rio. The city still had a relatively strong tourism industry, thanks to its proximity to the U.S., but like almost every other Mexican city these days, it was increasingly plagued by the violent activities of various criminal organizations, mostly centered around drugs. This was bad for the local economy, but, as it turned out, good for a vampire meet that might very well come down to a bloody battle of its own.

  Despite that dubious benefit, however, Cyn wasn’t happy that they were meeting in Mexico. There were too many uncertainties, too many ways the encounter could go wrong that had nothing to do with vampires. It was unlikely that anyone would try to accost Raphael or any of his vampires—and even less likely that they would succeed—but she would still have preferred to be on the U.S. side of the border.

  Seeming to sense her unease, which he no doubt did, Raphael put an arm around her as they walked to the vehicle waiting for them on the tarmac in Del Rio. It was the usual SUV, but without the blackened windows and, unfortunately, without the bullet-proofed exterior.

  He leaned close and whispered, “I love you, my Cyn.”

  “Don’t say that,” she muttered. “They sound like the last words of the condemned man.”

  He gave her a puzzled grin. “You really are worried! There’s no need.”

  “We still don’t know what’s waiting for you over there. And you know as well as I do that it’s not going to be Pascal and Alexandra alone in a church.”

  “It’s not,” he agreed, standing back and letting her slide into the back seat ahead of him. “But it won’t be as bad as you think, either.”

  Juro was already behind the wheel, and he took off as soon as Raphael’s door closed. The bridge into Mexico was only a short drive away.

  “How do you know?” she demanded, as they left the airport. She knew she was being a pain in the ass, but was too worried to let it go.

  “Because, my Cyn, if there was a true threat waiting for me, I’d sense it by now.”

  “You mean, like Enrique himself?”

  He nodded, but his expression made it clear he thought that possibility unlikely. “Enrique would never involve himself at this level. He knows he can’t defeat me in a challenge, and there’s no reason for him to try. Even if he succeeded, he could never hold my territory as well as his own.”

  “But you suspect him of somehow being involved in this.”

  “At this point, it’s almost a certainty rather than a suspicion. The fact that Pascal insisted on meeting in Mexico is damning. But Enrique’s participation is most likely only that of a facilitator. He thinks to save himself by betraying the rest of us, by giving my enemies safe passage through his territory.”

  “Bastard. Do we get to kill him?”

  “He’ll die, but not by my hand. And not tonight.”

  The SUV was suddenly awash with bright light as they turned onto the International Bridge and approached the border crossing. It was Saturday night, and despite the late hour, there was a line of cars heading to Mexico, mostly young people wanting to party on the lawless side of the border. Cyn eyed the revelers in the cars they passed and hoped for their sakes that they all made it back. As unsafe as the border towns had been back in the day, they were a thousand times worse now. There was no bribe big enough to stop a hail of bullets.

  “God, I hate this,” she muttered. “And if you suggest that I wait over here, I’ll shoot you myself.”

  Raphael laughed, his head thrown back in pleasure. It made her smile, because it was so unusual. Raphael wasn’t exactly solemn. He’d loosened up a lot since he’d been hanging around her. But his laughter was typically more restrained.

  They passed the border checkpoint without incident, which was no more than she’d expected, and were soon making their way down the traffic-clogged streets of Acuña. The street was a typical tourist trap, lined with retail stores and restaurants, with a white steeple visible in the distance. Pascal was right. It wasn’t tall by modern standards, but most of the other buildings in Acuña were no higher than two stories and some even less than that, which made the steeple easy to spot.

  The church they wanted was on the edge of a mostly residential neighborhood. There were few lights showing in the houses, and even fewer on the street itself. Their two SUVs swung into the small parking lot behind the church. Juro shut off his engine, and silence descended as Raphael’s guards in the other SUV did the same.

  They sat for a moment without speaking. Cyn used the time to conduct a visual scan of the dark parking lot. She was sure the vamps were doing the same thing, but using their super-duper vampire powers to do it more efficiently.

  Juro looked up and met her eyes in the rearview mirror, giving her a small nod of reassurance before shifting his gaze to Raphael.

  “My lord?” he said.

  Raphael drew a deep breath, a sad look marring his handsome face. “Alexandra is here,” he confirmed. “And ten others,” he added, almost negligently.

  “Ten?” Cyn repeated, wondering why she was the only one alarmed by this.

  “Five of them masters,” Raphael continued.

  “That’s their game then,” Jared observed tightly.

  “What?” Cyn demanded. “What’s he talking about, Raphael?”

  Raphael tightened his arm where it lay over her shoulders. “My enemies know, or they suspect, that they cannot defeat me one on one. None of them is strong enough. So they think to combine their powers and destroy me that way.”

  “They’re going to try to kill you tonight? And you knew it?”

  “I suspected,” he said dismissively. “But have no fear, my Cyn. There is not enough power in that church to harm me.”

  “And he’s not alone, Cynthia. He has the three of us at his back.” Juro winked at her in the mirro
r, and Cyn smiled, despite their situation. She couldn’t hold a candle to either Juro or Jared when it came to raw power, and she knew it. But Juro never failed to credit her as part of Raphael’s protection detail.

  “Right,” she said. “So how do we play this?”

  “Very simple,” Raphael said, regarding the church—and the vampires waiting inside it—with a dark, menacing gaze. “We go in there and destroy our enemies before they destroy us.”

  “Fuckin’ A,” Cyn agreed.

  PASCAL STOOD IN the shadows of the empty church, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he fought to contain the excitement churning through his system. His mistress, Violet, had just gotten a call from the vampire she had stationed near the border crossing. Raphael was on his way to the church with only one extra SUV and what looked like two extra guards. Of course, Jared and Juro would be with him. And his human mate, he thought dismissively. She hardly counted for anything. He’d thought for sure that the vampire lord would show up with a full security team, but his mistress had known better. She understood Raphael in a way Pascal never would. Power called to power, especially when it came to vampires. But then, he had power of his own, didn’t he? A very special power that had drawn his mistress to him, making him part of her grand plan, a plan that was going to make him rich. He would be living his dream soon, with money and beautiful women to spare.

  “Will Raphael be here soon?”

  Pascal ground his teeth silently. Now there was one woman who would not be included in his dream life. Alexandra was beautiful, but she was also a major pain in the ass and possessed of an unhealthy fixation with her own fucking brother. He didn’t know exactly how old she was or where she’d come from, but he was beginning to suspect it was one of those cultures where sibling marriages were looked upon with favor.

  “Pascal?”

  “Yes, Alexandra,” he said with forced courtesy.

  “Was that her minion who called? The one at the border crossing? What did he say?”

  Pascal closed his eyes, seeking patience. He’d told her a million times that his mistress’s name was Violet, but Alexandra persisted in referring to her only as “she” or “her.”

  “Yes. Lady Violet’s minion called to advise that Raphael was crossing the border.”

  “He’ll be sorry for what he’s done to me,” she hissed with such viciousness, in such a drastic shift of mood, that Pascal shot her a startled glance. “I can hardly wait to see his face,” she snarled.

  Apparently, one could safely add schizo to Alexandra’s list of sins. No wonder her brother had locked her up.

  “Pascal.” He stiffened at the melodious sound of Violet’s voice. It was so different from Alexandra’s petty whining, he thought, as he hurried to her side.

  “Mistress,” he said, bowing his head and staring at his feet.

  “You will control the female,” she told him quietly. “Do whatever it takes. Raphael is a formidable foe. I believe our combined energies can kill him, but it will require a delicate balance of power, and I can’t have her interfering at a critical moment.”

  “Understood, Mistress. It will be done.” He was about to step away when one of Violet’s minions came over and handed her a cell phone.

  “Video from the border crossing, Mistress,” the vamp said quietly.

  Violet took the phone, but only glanced at it before saying, “Pascal, look at this. Tell me who these are.”

  He took the phone she offered and rolled the video forward, watching as the two SUVs slowed to speak with the border guards, then continued smoothly across the bridge and into Mexico. The fact that Violet had to ask him to identify Raphael’s associates told Pascal how very little she really knew about Raphael’s operation, and it further convinced Pascal of his own importance. Not only in Violet’s current plan to take down Raphael, but in the long term, after she’d set up her own court in North America. He would be by her side then. Her most trusted adviser.

  An unaccustomed warmth filled him, so unfamiliar that he barely recognized it for what it was . . . satisfaction. Although that seemed too small a word to describe what he was feeling. Pride was in there. And arrogance, too, because he’d always known he was destined for great things.

  “Pascal?”

  His mistress’s voice reminded him that his destiny wasn’t upon him yet. “The woman next to Raphael is his mate, Cynthia.”

  “He brings his human with him?”

  “They’re rarely apart, my lady. She carries a gun and fancies herself one of his bodyguards.”

  Violet’s sniff of disapproval made her opinion of this clear before he continued.

  “The driver is Juro, his chief of security. I told you about him, my lady. And the other, the black man is Jared, his lieutenant now that Duncan is a lord. You noticed the vampires in the second SUV, of course.”

  “Of course,” she chided him.

  “Those two are part of Raphael’s security detail. They’ll be highly trained and disciplined, my lady. Raphael does not take chances.”

  “But?” she asked, hearing the excitement underlying his words.

  Pascal grinned. “Jared is under my sway, as is the bald one of the guards. I can have Raphael’s own people take each other out.”

  “Is Jared powerful enough to handle Juro?”

  “They’re evenly matched, but I believe so. And there is no question that my guard can take the other one out.”

  Violet smiled back at him like a proud parent. “Very good, Pascal.”

  “Thank you, Mistress,” he said, blushing with pleasure. Such was the quiet force of his mistress’s personality. He was going to enjoy watching Violet take that bastard Raphael down a peg. He was going to enjoy even more being part of it.

  Next to him, Alexandra opened her whiny mouth, but he growled at her to shut up. She still thought this was all about her. The silly bitch still hadn’t clued in to the fact that she was as disposable as the napkin used to wipe his mouth. No wonder her brother had written her off. It was a miracle he hadn’t done it a century or two earlier.

  “They’re here, my lady,” Violet’s minion called softly, and Pascal felt a surge of excitement. This was his moment, the one he’d been building toward his entire life. The door opened with a creak of old wood, and he took his place at his mistress’s back.

  “CHANGE OF PLANS,” Raphael said as he climbed out of the SUV and held out his hand to Cyn. “We won’t go in the front door.”

  Relief weakened Cyn’s muscles to the point that she actually accepted his hand in support as she slid off the bench seat and stood in the dirt parking lot. She’d never been happy with that plan, if one could even call walking through the front door a plan.

  “As long as we’re here,” Raphael continued, pulling her against his side, “we’ll go through the back door.”

  Cyn glared at him through narrowed eyes. “Not funny, fang boy.”

  He winked at her. “Trust me, my Cyn.”

  “I trust you,” she muttered. “Let’s do this.”

  Juro led the way, taking up a position to one side of the door, with Jared on the other. Cyn and Raphael stood back, with the two guards in front, positioned in a way that none of them would be silhouetted by the open door. Juro glanced at Raphael, received his go-ahead nod, and gripped the heavy wrought iron handle. It was an old door, the wood thick with layers of varnish added over decades of use, the broad wooden planks banded with iron. It creaked under its own weight when Juro pulled it open.

  They all paused expectantly, but when no threat vomited forth from the open door, they entered the church, with Juro and Jared once again taking the lead. Cyn had been holding Raphael’s hand, but she let go as soon as they crossed the threshold, taking a step away from him and giving both of them room to maneuver. She was carrying the Sig as her main weapon tonight, and it was loaded for bear—or more accurately vampire—with its Hydra-Shok vampire-killer rounds. It was the same gun and ammo that s
he’d used to kill Jabril not so long ago. Her favorite Glock 9mm was tucked into the small of her back, but it was the Sig that she pulled now. The enemy vamps might be offended by her preemptive draw, but too bad. If she’d been confronting humans, she’d have left the gun in its shoulder holster and simply loosened it for an easy draw. But vampires were too fast for that. If it came down to a battle, there’d be no time for a draw, no matter how quick she was. So she carried the weapon in her right hand and didn’t care what anyone thought.

  “Raphael! Thank God!” Alexandra’s overwrought greeting was ignored by everyone except Pascal, who was standing next to her, glaring at her to be silent.

  “Violet,” Raphael said, not even acknowledging his sister’s outburst.

  A female vampire stepped out of the shadows. Slender and somewhat short by this century’s measure, she had long, dark hair that curled over her shoulders and down her back, and a face that was completely ordinary. Cyn frowned. That was surprising. If Raphael knew this Violet person, then they must have met before he left Europe, which made her at least 250 years old, and probably a little more than that. Usually vampires that old—male or female—were quite good looking, some even beautiful. The vampire symbiote seemed to make a point of curing ills and erasing imperfections in its hosts, presumably so they would be more effective hunters. And that made Violet’s very ordinary appearance quite unusual. Either the vampire symbiote didn’t care what she looked like or this was the best it could do the raw material Violet had provided.

  Since Cyn wanted to hate the bitch, she preferred to think that Violet had been a troll before the symbiote went to work on her. But she kept these thoughts to herself.

  “Raphael,” Violet responded, her voice a lovely soprano in contrast to her rather plain appearance. “I’m flattered you remember.”

  “I remember you, Violet. But you clearly don’t remember me.”

  “But of course I do!”

  “Then why are you here? And why the farce with Pascal and that one,” he said, flipping a dismissive hand in Alexandra’s direction.