Lucifer (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 11)

by D. B. Reynolds

  Sophia lifted her chin in acknowledgement, finding it curious that Tambra hadn’t mentioned anything about this to her. They’d spoken on the phone . . . She thought back. Well, they’d only spoken on the phone once while Sophia was in Montreal, and it might have been before the hearing date changed. Or maybe Tambra hadn’t considered it worth mentioning, given the overriding fact of Colin’s abduction.

  “Very well,” she said finally. “I want to be kept up to date on the Calgary situation, and I want to speak with Tambra directly when she calls.”

  “Of course, my lady.”

  “Do you have a security briefing for me?”

  Danika held out an iPad encased in a black leather folio. “Right here, my lady.”

  Sophia took the device. “Anything of note?” she asked. She’d read the entire briefing before going to sleep this morning, but if there was anything urgent, she needed to know about it. Like the situation in Calgary. She frowned. The more she thought about that, the more it troubled her. Fucking convenient timing to have one of her most trusted aides out of the city during this critical time. It made her want to scan every vampire on the plane all over again.

  If only Lucien had stuck around to clean up his own mess, instead of taking the coward’s way out and leaving it all to Sophia. And now, just when she’d begun to feel as though she was making progress, this whole European clusterfuck had descended on the continent. Berkhard was the German vampire lord who’d helped Mathilde in her ultimately doomed attempt to murder Raphael, and who now seemed determined to claim a chunk of North America for himself. Sophia’s chunk to be precise.

  She wasn’t all that surprised he’d targeted her, however. According to Christian Duvall—the newly anointed Lord of the South who’d recently arrived from Europe and so knew the various lords there—Berkhard didn’t credit females with either courage or strength. Forget the fact that he’d been allied with Mathilde. Mathilde had been a few centuries old and, by all accounts, a hard as nails bitch.

  But Sophia knew her own reputation. She was powerful as hell, but no one saw that. They saw the beautiful woman who’d spent the last hundred years dancing her way through South America’s sultry nights and hot men. And it didn’t help that she was Lucien’s child, either. Everyone knew that Lucien had selected his children for their beauty. He’d been looking for talented lovers, not skilled fighters.

  Sophia wasn’t Lucien, and she wasn’t one of his all-beauty/no-brains bed partners either. She was one hell of a lot stronger than Berkhard or anyone else credited her with. Normally, she didn’t mind being underestimated. It was very useful in a fight, or in a war, which this was shaping up to be. But right now . . . right now, she didn’t need this crap. She didn’t want to be here in Vancouver getting ready to fight off a European invasion. She wanted to be in Montreal, tearing the city apart until she found Colin.

  Instead she was left to worry endlessly, impotently. Knowing that his kidnappers were torturing him, terrified that tonight would be the night they decided to get rid of him. . . . Her fear was a crushing weight, a suffocating blanket of despair. She could barely dress herself every night, much less deal with betrayal and conspiracy in her own court, and that fucker Berkhard trying to take over.

  And yet, she knew that this—her fear and worry, her distraction—was all part of Berkhard’s plan. No doubt he’d invade in force sooner rather than later, but he’d wanted to weaken her first. So he’d taken Colin away from her. And it was working. She opened her eyes every night to overwhelming pain, struggling to draw her next breath, convinced she was sharing Colin’s agony through the blood link they shared, and knowing she was helpless to save him. He’d always been there for her, his quiet strength the one constant amidst the chaos of her new life. The one time that he needed her, she couldn’t deliver. And now she’d lost Eleanor, too. The person she’d come to count on most after Colin.

  “If Eleanor calls, interrupt me, whatever I’m doing,” she told Danika as she gathered her things.

  As much as she missed Eleanor, leaving her to coordinate the search with Aden’s hunter vamp had been the right thing to do. First, because Eleanor’s loyalty was unquestioned. Not only to Sophia, but to Colin, as well. And second, because like Sophia, people tended to underestimate Eleanor. She had that whole blond, Disney princess vibe going, but she was as tough as they came. She wouldn’t stop looking until Colin was safe.

  She’d find Colin and bring him home. She had to. Because if she didn’t . . . well, if she didn’t, then Sophia wasn’t sure any of the rest of this even mattered.

  Chapter Five

  Montreal, Quebec, Canada

  LUCIFER STOOD AT the big plate glass window. The view from this hotel was very different than the one in Toronto had been. They were much closer to the ground for one, and the street below was far narrower. The building across the way was close enough that he could have seen the smallest detail of the opposite room, if they hadn’t had their drapes firmly closed. And on top of that, there was a fire escape that crossed sharply upward on the balcony right outside their suite. It was a very stylish fire escape, very modern and clean, but it cut right across his view, making it necessary to bend down at an angle and peer upward if one wanted to see the moon, much less anything else in the night sky.

  Not that Lucifer cared overmuch about the moon. But it would have been something pretty to stare at while he waited for Eleanor to emerge from her daytime rest.

  She was already awake. She’d been moving around a bit ago, and then the shower had come on. He’d tortured himself with images of her naked body under the pounding water, more tightly muscled now than she’d been in New Orleans. Between the vampire enhancement of her physique and the obvious work she’d put into staying fit in order to perform her bodyguard duties, his Eleanor was no longer the soft, sweet girl she’d been when he’d met her.

  It would have been easier if those changes had made her less attractive to him, if he’d been the kind of man who needed his woman weak and dependent. But that wasn’t the case, not anymore. Maybe once upon a time, when he’d been younger and had taken his nonna’s admonishments to take care of his woman to mean that his woman needed to look to him for everything. But no longer.

  Maybe it was Eleanor’s leaving that had changed him. After she’d gone, he’d chosen women who could take care of themselves, women who never would have been vulnerable to the machinations of a weakling like Derek Pratt.

  But now Eleanor was back, and she was strong and capable, a power in her own right, for all that she seemed determined to play human around him. And that was one of the subjects they were going to deal with tonight, before they pursued this investigation any further. From here on out, things were going to get dangerous, and he needed her at full strength. He needed to know that she could and would protect herself, that she could protect Colin Murphy, too, if it came to that.

  If not, then she’d only get in the way, and it would be better if she remained in the hotel and waited for his progress reports. Because he had a job to do, and he needed a partner, not a hundred and ten pounds of helpless female.

  The door opened behind him. He didn’t turn, but he knew when Eleanor crossed into the room. The light soap scent of her skin, the soft fall of her footsteps on the carpeted floor. But more than that, it was the bright spark of her power that registered against his vampire senses, a spark he hadn’t felt up to this point, because she’d been masking her true power. And he hadn’t noticed, because he’d had no reason to probe beneath the facade she showed to the world. He was powerful enough to have shattered her mask, if he’d wanted. But he wouldn’t do that, even now, because it would be a violation of Eleanor’s existence.

  “How’s the view?” she asked quietly.

  He still didn’t turn. “Terrific. With a bit of contortion, you can even see the moon.”

  She gave a surprised laugh, c
learly not expecting his joking response. Her footsteps drew closer, until she was standing next to him. They remained silent for several minutes, and then she sighed.

  “I swear I didn’t know that Derek would tell you I’d died. I never suspected he’d go that far.” She shook her head. “I’ve thought about writing you so many times over the years, but I was afraid.”

  He swung around at that, staring at her. “Afraid of what? When did I ever hurt you?”

  “Never,” she admitted. “It wasn’t that. I wasn’t afraid of what you’d do. It was . . . I was afraid of what you’d see when you looked at me.”

  He frowned at her in confusion. “What would I see?”

  “A vampire,” she said simply, as if that explained everything. Or anything.

  “I don’t understand,” he said finally. “I know what Derek told you, but I never told him—”

  “Forget what Derek said. I never believed you’d ask him to turn me. I knew—” She cut off whatever she’d been about to say. “What happened to him anyway? Everything was so confusing, and then I left. But . . . he’s dead, isn’t he?”

  “Did you think I’d let him live? He told me you were dead, and it was his fault.” Lucifer heard the arrogance in his voice, and for about two seconds considered softening his words, but just as quickly decided against it. Fuck it. Derek had needed killing, and he was still glad he’d been the one to do it.

  Eleanor smiled slightly, as if she’d expected his reaction, but there was sadness there, too. “No. I knew you’d be furious when you found out. I would have killed him myself, but I couldn’t do it then, and by the time I was strong enough . . . it no longer mattered.”

  “So, if you didn’t stay away because of Derek, that means . . . . I still don’t understand, Elle.”

  She gave him a puzzled look, as if he was missing something obvious. But he had no fucking idea what it might be.

  “You just said it, Lucifer. And you’d said it before. You didn’t want me to be turned. You didn’t want me as a vampire.”

  He stared at her in sudden comprehension. “You’re right,” he said slowly. “I didn’t want you as a vampire. But I didn’t want you as a human, either. I just wanted you. I loved you. I never gave a damn what body you wore, or which blood flowed in your veins.”

  He was silent for a long moment, aware of Eleanor next to him, her blue eyes boring a hole into the side of his head in wordless demand for his attention. But he had nothing else to say. And maybe he’d already said too much.

  “I’ve got a line on Chase Landry,” he said flatly. “I’m leaving in ten minutes, if you want to come along.”

  He spun on his heel and strode into his private suite, closing the door carefully. He paused for a moment, his eyes closed and his head hanging low, his heart aching. Had he been thinking that Eleanor couldn’t hurt him any more than she already had? He’d been wrong. She hadn’t trusted the strength of his love. Hadn’t believed it would be enough to withstand that damn Derek Pratt, or whatever else life had thrown at them. She hadn’t trusted him. Hadn’t believed in him.

  He sucked in a breath, and shook loose fingers he hadn’t realized he’d fisted. He had a job to do. Maybe Eleanor hadn’t believed he loved her enough to stick it out, but Colin Murphy was in a prison somewhere, enduring night after night of torture in silence, refusing to betray Sophia, because he sure as hell believed she loved him enough.

  Lucifer wasn’t going to let him suffer for nothing. He was going to track him down and save his life. And then he was going to kill the kidnappers. But not until he’d made them wish they’d never crossed his path.

  “SO WHAT’S THE line you have on Chase Landry?”

  Lucifer didn’t spare a glance for Eleanor where she sat in the passenger seat of the big SUV. The vehicle was far too big for just the two of them, but it was heavily armored, and had bullet-resistant glass. It was the only one Lucifer trusted with his life . . . and Eleanor’s. He hadn’t loved her forever, just to see her die of a stray gunshot wound.

  “Landry’s the vampire who lured Fiona’s boyfriend into the kidnapping plot. I doubt he’s the mastermind behind the wider conspiracy, but it seems likely that he was the vampire responsible for organizing the abduction itself. Kind of a subcontractor, if you’d like. Anyway, when he’s not busy kidnapping and torturing Murphy, he has a life outside the tunnels, and that was easy to track down. Believe it or not, our boy’s a lawyer, with a vampire-heavy clientele. He specializes in estate planning, which means he mostly helps vampires conceal their assets from greedy government entities, and creates fictitious ownership transfers to conceal their unnaturally long lives.”

  “How does that help us?”

  “Fiona didn’t know details, but she thought he lived with someone. I want to talk to whoever that person is.”

  “Talk,” she repeated doubtfully.

  Lucifer did glance at her then. “Uh, yeah. That’s pretty much why we’re here. To find Murphy and bring him out alive. And that means talking to anyone who might give us a clue as to where he is.”

  “The way you talked to Fiona?”

  Well, now, she was pissing him off. He didn’t need her to sit there and pass judgment on his methods when he was trying to save Colin Murphy’s God damned life. Or any other time, either. If she wanted to play human, that was her business. But he was a fucking powerful vampire, and he wasn’t going to apologize for it. Hell, he fucking loved it.

  Eleanor must have noticed his silence and correctly interpreted the reasons for it, because she didn’t push on the question of his methods with Fiona, or anyone else. That didn’t mean she accepted what he’d done—as if he needed her acceptance—but she changed the subject to avoid confrontation. Which was completely human of her, and only pissed him off more.

  “So Landry owns a house?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “HIS GRANDMOTHER?”

  Lucifer didn’t look at her. He hadn’t looked at her much this whole night. “His great-grandmother,” he said, absently, scanning the house numbers. “She’s still the owner of record, but she died a very long time ago. Landry’s more or less lived here ever since.”

  Eleanor studied the small house as Lucifer slid into a space at the curb. Although “slid” was too kind of a word for what Lucifer did. He was a horrible driver. Horrible. She actually remembered that from all those years ago in New Orleans. If she’d thought for one minute that Lucifer would have gone along with it, she’d have politely insisted on driving this evening. But she’d seen the pain in his eyes when he’d learned why she’d run from him. And ever since then, he’d been like a stranger to her. Cool and polite, very professional, but with none of his usual, teasing banter. And not even a hint of flirting.

  It had never occurred to her that Lucifer could still be hurt by her. She’d known when she’d left back then that he’d be wounded, not only by her leaving, but by the way she’d chosen to go, with no word of good-bye. But that was more than twenty years ago, years that he’d spent thinking she was dead. And now, even though she was alive, she was no longer his pretty human princess. She was a vampire. And she’d always known that Lucifer had loved her for her humanity. He’d told her, flat out, that vampire on vampire relationships were rare and even more rarely successful. And he hadn’t minced words when it came to the reason for it.

  Vampires needed blood to survive. Human blood. And their mates provided that in an act that was seductive and intensely sexual, something that would be missing in a vampire’s life if his mate happened to be a vampire, and they both had to feed elsewhere. She’d assumed . . . no, she’d known that he wouldn’t want her once she was turned. She’d run rather than face his rejection.

  But what if she’d been wrong?

  The possibility was too awful, the pain too sharp. She couldn’t deal with it. Not on top of everything
else. She needed time alone to think through it all, and she wasn’t going to get that tonight. Maybe not tomorrow either, not until Colin Murphy was found and the current crisis was resolved. Only then could she take some time to resolve her own, personal crisis.

  She had a feeling finding Colin was going to be easier.

  Lucifer was already walking up the cracked concrete path to the tiny front porch, and she couldn’t help admiring the pretty picture he made, with his fine ass in a pair of tight black jeans, his back and shoulders looking all big and strong in a black leather jacket, and above that, his black, black hair. A study in black. Gorgeous.

  She shook her head. Yes, he was gorgeous, but he wasn’t hers any longer, and she was supposed to be working. She climbed down from the SUV, and hurried up the walk, catching up to Lucifer just as he rang the doorbell for the second time.

  “Not much of a house for a powerful vampire,” she said, leaning over to check out the window on her side of the porch. She couldn’t see much. The window was filthy inside and out. “Is he still living here?”

  “Let’s find out.” Lucifer grabbed hold of the doorknob and twisted. The door swung open, and they stepped quickly inside, which proved this was a vampire residence. Vampires required an invitation to enter a human home. So no matter who else might have lived here once, it was now primarily a vampire’s lair, even if it didn’t look like one. The neighborhood was older and well-established, the homes modest and mostly better maintained than Landry’s. Neighborhoods like this weren’t ideal for snooping around. Nosy neighbors watched out for each another, and if they saw two strangers lurking around Landry’s place, they might call the police, if for no other reason than the entertainment value of the flashing lights.

  Eleanor followed Lucifer down the short hallway. She paused at the foot of the stairs and drew in a deep breath, taking in the slightly musty smell, the dust, the feel of the house. “Nobody’s been here in a while,” she said.