Unfortunately, she didn’t know what she wanted. No, she thought, shaking her head. That wasn’t quite true. She wanted Xavier. She’d always wanted him, though she could admit now that he’d done the right thing rejecting her all those years ago. She’d been a child, and he’d been . . . well, he’d been a vampire lord. He might have looked like a twenty-something sex god, but he’d been an old man. So what had changed? Why did he now find her to be an acceptable lover?
She punched her pillow, trying to get comfortable enough to drift back to sleep, so she could stop thinking about this shit. Especially questions she already knew the answers to. Vampires didn’t take human lovers their own age. For fuck’s sake, there were none. Vamps were overwhelmingly male, so even if they’d wanted one of their own as a lover, they were mostly out of luck. They also happened to prefer human lovers, so they got a twofer—sex and food in one tidy package.
And she was letting her thoughts wander down meaningless paths to avoid dealing with the big question. Xavier wanted her. It was early in their relationship 2.0 to expect a commitment, though he’d definitely said he loved her. She didn’t know if that had come out in the heat of the moment, or excitement because she was something brand new, or if he truly meant it. The problem—and she was honest enough to admit it—was that she wanted him. That had never changed. He was the reason she’d never managed to have a serious relationship with anyone. She hadn’t been a nun, for Christ’s sake, but the minute the guy started getting that soft expression on his face when he looked at her, she’d come up with a perfectly logical excuse for why they’d never make it. For why he wasn’t “the one.”
All those excuses had been pure bullshit, she admitted now. None of those men had qualified because the position had already been filled. Xavier had always been the one and he always would be. So why wasn’t she grabbing onto him with both hands? Because he’d broken her heart, and the fact that he’d done the right thing didn’t matter to her heart. She was afraid he’d break it again. And she didn’t know if she could survive a second time.
Disgusted with herself, she let loose a low howl of frustration and jolted out of bed. What was the point of lying there if it served only to drive her crazy? She might as well join her team and recruit them to help her teach the daylight guards some new tricks. And keep them ready in case Sakal decided it was time for another surprise attack.
THE SUN WAS ALMOST two hours past setting by the time the necessary vampires had all reported for night duty, and Joachim had relieved her for the night. He didn’t always. Sometimes it was one of the vampire commanders instead. But tonight, he made a point of not only being there personally, but taking the time to chat with her a little.
Contrarily, however, she didn’t find that to be reassuring or friendly. She found it odd. Was it because they’d been in a few briefings together? Or was he there in order to assure her that the situation was under control, and she could relax for the rest of the night, with no concerns whatsoever. Telling herself she was being too suspicious, she returned to the barracks with her team, who’d waited with her until Joachim showed up.
When she checked her phone after showering, there was a message from Xavier. She couldn’t remember him leaving her any previous messages, but since he had tonight, she listened.
“Layla, cariño. I’m still being hounded by my fellow vampire lords who are being nosier, and more neurotic, than usual. If it’s not too late by the time I’m free of it, I’ll call. If it is already too late, I will miss you, and dream of you, and definitely see you tomorrow night. Love you.”
She played the message a second time, asking herself if she was being utterly paranoid to think he’d been shoveling some serious bullshit with that message. She thought about having a conversation with the unexpectedly chatty Joachim, but dismissed that idea immediately. He wouldn’t tell her anything Xavier didn’t want her to know. But between Joachim’s unusual concern for her sleep habits, and Xavier’s message, her suspicion that something was up had sure as hell been confirmed. Unfortunately, she couldn’t storm into Xavier’s office or, better yet, his bedroom and demand to know what was up. She didn’t have the code, and as with Joachim, the guards wouldn’t let her in if Xavier had told them not to.
“Son of a bitch,” she swore and threw down the phone, which fortunately landed on the bed so it would be available when someone finally called to clue her in. She just hoped that whenever they got around to it, she wasn’t being called because her team was about to be dragged knee-deep into a clusterfuck.
XAVIER PULLED ON soft leather pants that stretched easily around the hard muscles of his thighs, a padded leather vest that would do nothing to stop a modern bullet, but might slow down a knife thrust, and leather boots. The clothes were comfortable and wouldn’t interfere with movement, which was why he wore them. He didn’t worry about bullets or knife thrusts. When battle-driven adrenaline flooded his system, he’d barely feel those or any other wounds. Unless the knife was big and the strike true enough to hit his heart, or the bullet equally true and designed to shred flesh, he wouldn’t much feel the injury until long after the battle ended. Even supposing his enemy had such weapons and ability, the damage would have to be massive to take him out of the fight.
He was a vampire lord—a title that indicated far more than a simple affinity for making tough decisions and persuading others to follow him. His power and strength combined to make him one of the toughest creatures on earth, nearly impossible to kill. Another vampire lord, especially one whose power equaled his own, might score a lucky hit and take him out. One whose power was greater than his might, theoretically, succeed in killing him. But the only vampire he knew who was likely to have power greater than his own was Raphael, and he’d left Europe to its own devices. At least for now.
What made Sakal dangerous was his sorcery, which had been returned to him in full the last Xavier had been aware, and now appeared to have grown.
Fortunately, whether it was fate or happy coincidence, Xavier was all but immune to magic. He didn’t like to speak in absolutes, since fate was a fickle bitch, but he’d never encountered a magic user who could make sorcery work against him. He’d wondered at that particular talent of his. Every vampire lord possessed some unique power that was his, or hers, alone. A thousand years ago such an immunity would have been very useful, but in this modern age, when magic was thin on the ground, and sorcerers few and far between, it had seemed less so. But perhaps fate had known what she was doing after all, because Xavier was now prepared to face Sakal.
After tying his boots, he proceeded to arm himself with weapons new and old. An unassuming sword—short enough to be maneuverable in tight quarters, but long enough to keep his enemy from getting too close—was belted round his waist. It was simple in design, with a plain hilt, but the combination of modern steel and ancient techniques of folding and tempering had produced a blade that couldn’t be found anywhere in the world, not even in the best weapons’ markets. And while there were a few similar blades circulating among the vast population of earth, only this one had been tested in battle and proven to his exacting standards. After tying the scabbard to his thigh, he secured three knives of various sizes about his person, picked up the very modern, and very deadly MP5 submachine gun lying on the table next to him, and he was done.
He wasn’t in his quarters in the basement vault or even his private office on the first floor of the vampire wing. Instead, he was in the small room near the loading dock where he’d met with Chuy and Joaquim. Chuy, who was at this moment beyond the Fortalesa’s walls, had left this gear for him, depositing a piece at a time over the days since they’d settled on this strategy, in order to avoid notice. Absolute secrecy were the watchwords of the night. No one but Chuy and Joaquim knew of tonight’s plan.
He experienced a small twinge of guilt, knowing Layla would be furious when she discovered his deception. He’d have told her, but h
e’d observed enough of her interactions with her team to know she trusted them absolutely. And while she probably would have honored a vow of silence when it came to the others, he knew without a doubt that she’d have shared with Brian Hudson. The relationship between those two was far more than simple professional respect, more even than friendship. No longer, perhaps, but he suspected that once upon a time, they’d been more than friends to each other, no matter how much she denied it.
And why the hell was he wasting time and energy worrying about such things at this critical moment? He needed to be ready, and that meant more than just strapping on weapons. He needed to get his fucking head in the right place for battle, and adopt the mindset to kill anyone who tried to stop him.
A quiet mental hail had him spinning for the door a moment before it opened to reveal Chuy, dressed and armed much as he was, his eyes already lit with a red-tinged lust for the coming fight.
“Sire,” his lieutenant murmured.
“Everything ready?”
“Yes, my lord. The dock is quiet. The final deliveries completed thirty minutes ago. The vehicle you requested is waiting a mile outside the wall.” He winced. “Though I do wish you would reconsider taking one with at least some defensive armament.”
Xavier grinned. “We’re trying to be subtle and commonplace. One of those black behemoths would all but announce our presence.”
“Yes, my lord,” Chuy agreed unhappily. “Even so . . . ”
Xavier clapped his lieutenant’s shoulder. “Do you have so little faith in me? I will defend us.”
“I would never doubt you, Sire.”
“I know. A little teasing, old friend. Nothing more. Shall we go?”
Chuy nodded once, then turned and, taking the lead, walked out into the hallway and discreetly scanned both directions before Xavier joined him.
They moved quickly and with purpose after that. There was no skulking about, no attempt to conceal their presence. They didn’t anticipate running into anyone—vampire or human—but if they did, they wouldn’t offer an excuse for their presence. Xavier was the Lord of Spain, and the Fortalesa was his. No one had the right to question where he went or why.
Nonetheless, he sensed Chuy’s relief once they were beyond the walls and traveling through the trees to the narrow fire road where a small, ordinary four-door sedan of indeterminate age was parked. It was exactly what Xavier wanted for tonight’s mission—dusty from the dirt road, with a back bumper that was dented as if it had suffered a rear-end collision recently. The only modifications to the unassuming vehicle were the windows, which were dark enough to conceal the occupants. Xavier was well-known, by appearance at least, in this area. And he didn’t want to risk discovery if a driver happened to glance over and see him sitting in traffic.
The drive to Barcelona was uneventful, with little traffic until they drew closer to the city proper. Even then, it was late enough that most clubs and bars were closed, but not yet time for the earliest commuters to begin flooding the streets. Chuy did a drive-by of Sakal’s lair and was circling around the block for another look when Xavier’s phone rang.
“Joaquim,” he answered.
“Sire, the sorcerer has departed the compound, accompanied by the three human females who guard him.”
“Excellent. Return to the Fortalesa. You know what to do.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Xavier expected his security chief to hang up after that. There was nothing further that needed to be said, and Xavier was in the field and didn’t want his attention diverted from the target. But he could almost hear Joaquim’s reluctance in the silence as he waited. “What is it?” he asked finally.
“Only . . . take care, my lord.”
Xavier was paranoid enough, or smart enough since the two were identical when living in vampire society, that he mentally stopped to consider Joaquim’s response. Did the caution mean Joaquim was aware of a flaw in their plan? Was there some enemy movement against them that would make it unworkable? An unforeseen threat to the Fortalesa itself? He shook his head. No. Joaquim’s loyalty was unquestioned, but the security chief had expressed doubts about this mission from the start. His concern had to do with that, nothing else.
“We shall,” Xavier assured him. “And we will both be up on comms, if you need us.”
“Yes, my lord. I will stand watch until your return.”
“Problem?” Chuy asked, turning to meet Xavier’s gaze when they stopped at a red light.
“No. Sakal is on his way with the usual three bodyguards. There may be more when we enter his lair.”
“Humans,” his lieutenant said dismissively.
“Yes, but well-trained and probably prepared to deal with vampire assailants, as Layla noted.”
“Understood.” Chuy drove into the building across the street from Sakal’s lair, taking the ramp to the parking structure on top of the modest building. He followed the narrow up-ramp all the way to the last covered level, and slid into a spot overlooking Sakal’s front entrance.
Xavier stared at the temple-like edifice of the building and wondered idly if the overwrought design had been a factor in its selection. The sorcerer had always had an inflated view of himself, which was why it had irked him so when he’d been reborn as a weakling vampire. Well, that and the loss of his power, of course. Even so, Sakal had never come out and said it, but Xavier was convinced the bastard had expected to wake up not only with his sorcery intact, but with the power of a vampire lord. That would have made him a super lord of sorts, first among them all, able to command not only other vampires, but other vampire lords.
Fortunately, that hadn’t happened, and Sakal had been forced to reconcile to his new reality. Which thanks to Josep’s unending ambition, had turned out well for Sakal, but not for Josep.
“Looks like a fucking temple.” Chuy’s mutter echoed Xavier’s own thoughts so closely that he chuckled.
Shifting uncomfortably in the small car, Xavier did a quick but thorough scan of the area, and finding no other minds nearby, said, “Let’s go, before this fucking car steals every bit of feeling from my legs.”
“Yes, my lord.”
And Xavier would have sworn there was an, “I told you so,” hiding under the respect.
They opened their car doors at the same instant, and by the time Xavier got around the vehicle, Chuy was already sliding back the door of a white panel van that was the only other vehicle on this level, given the early hour. The open door of the van, which was parked on an inside row, away from the half-wall of the street view, revealed an interior that was not just comfortable, but a secure daytime resting place should they need it. This mission had too many variables that Xavier couldn’t control and couldn’t anticipate. For starters, they’d never been inside the damn building and didn’t know who else might be hiding in there. Xavier’s earlier scan had detected no vampires, but there had been humans. The number had been difficult to pin down, which meant they were underground and shielded from detection—most likely in a below-ground vault, like Xavier’s own. Regardless of what story Sakal told his bodyguards to explain his vampire habits, he would have needed a secure daylight resting place.
Xavier hadn’t liked this plan when he’d come up with it, any more than Joaquim had, but there’d been no other option. At least not one that didn’t involve using his vampires to slaughter a bunch of lost teenagers whose only crime was having been conned by a homicidal sorcerer posing as truth-seeking philosopher. Chuy, on the other hand, had liked the idea of taking Sakal’s lair by surprise, but he’d favored taking a squad of vampires himself, and killing Sakal when he arrived, also by himself. Since the only vote that mattered was Xavier’s, and since he wasn’t about risk vampire lives unnecessarily any more than he was human teenagers’, his opinion had ruled.
Besides, he had to be the one who killed S
akal. He had to be certain that the sorcerer was dead this time.
“Let’s go.”
They didn’t run, didn’t make any attempt to conceal their approach to the building. They knew Sakal wasn’t there, but Xavier kept his power up and scanning as they climbed the broad, cement stairs. “I’ll enter first.”
Chuy didn’t object. Most vampire lords always led the way. Their power was so much greater that when confronting a dangerous enemy, it only made sense. Especially since Xavier happened to be the only one resistant to magical attack.
He grabbed the stylized handle of the metal door and tugged. Nothing. For all his strength, the damn door didn’t move. He scanned the entrance from side to side, then stepped out to the sidewalk and scanned the building itself. “No windows,” he commented as he walked back to the door. “Guess we’ll have to do this the noisy way.”
Bracing one hand on the frame, he pulled the handle once more, but this time sent a wave of power rolling up and down the connection between door and frame, measuring resistance, looking for weak spots, for vulnerability. His grin when he found it was more of a grimace as every muscle in his arms and chest strained, every tendon corded. The first squeal of metal tearing sped into the dark of early morning, breaking windows somewhere down the street. Xavier swallowed the roar of triumph that wanted to follow. No need to attract more attention, although the shredding metal was making enough noise that any humans inside would have to be deaf not to hear. But he wasn’t worried about a few humans, no matter how well trained.
Xavier: Vampires in Europe (Vampires in America Book 14) Page 25