“You don’t have the power to turn anyone.”
The hatred on Sakal’s face was vicious. “You’re right,” he snarled. “Josep didn’t even give me that. But I had riches, and the intellect to acquire more. I paid a master vampire whose personal wealth was dwindling. He turned my mother’s beloved son for a pittance, really.”
“Your brother consented, of course.”
Sakal laughed. “He gave the same consent to being made a vampire, as I did to being the youngest unwanted child. Luckily, he’s as weak a vampire as I am, but unfortunately for him, he still has no magic. So sad. I make good use of him, give his life meaning. He deals with matters that don’t require my full attention, such as those pesky nightly visits to my devoted followers. He enjoys them, can you believe that? Hell, maybe he’ll remain on the farm, too.”
He walked forward until they were once more separated by only a few inches, and spoke softly. “He was also very useful in convincing old enemies that I was someplace I wasn’t.” He laughed, a harsh bark of amusement. “Farewell, Lord Xavier.”
Then he crossed to the open elevator, surrounded by bodyguards as he stood inside, his gaze never leaving Xavier until the doors closed, blocking his view.
Xavier turned his back on the guards left behind and began to pace the circle, aware of the looming sunrise and what it would mean not only to him, but even more, to Chuy. He’d have to move fast once he broke the final layer of spell, which was one of only two remaining. He’d worried that Sakal would sense its vulnerability, but he’d been too sure of himself, too busy gloating.
Xavier needed a clear plan of action, and soon. His first order of business would be getting Chuy to a safe place. The damn glass roof would soon have sunlight beaming down into the circular room. There was shade under the mezzanine, especially behind the bar he’d been examining earlier, which was on the eastern side of the room, and would remain shaded the longest.
Before that, however, he’d have to deal with the guards, who seemed as devoted to Sakal as the young people gathered at the compound were. It irritated the hell out of him to admit it, but he needed help. Human help. He pulled out his cell to call Layla, surprised that Sakal hadn’t taken it from him. Though on second thought, the coward would have been too frightened to confront Xavier himself, and if he’d sent any of the women in, their survival would have been measured in seconds, not minutes. He brought up the screen and discovered he had no signal. “Fuck. Energy from the damn magic barrier is screwing up cell reception,” he added when Chuy gave him a curious look.
So he couldn’t call Layla, but he didn’t need a phone to reach Joaquim.
LAYLA AND HER team were already up on the wall with the rest of the daylight crew, and she was mentally plotting her strategy for wringing the truth out of Xavier who’d been mysteriously absent last night. No one had seen or spoken to him. Not even Dr. Nowak. And when she’d casually asked Joaquim how the various calls with the European lords had gone, he’d looked totally blank for less than a second, a mere instant. But she’d caught it, and she’d known.
She glanced at the call display and frowned. “Yes? Joaquim?”
“You have to get downtown. Sakal’s lair. Xavier—”
“What? Slow down. Why am I going to Sakal’s lair? He’s a vampire, he’ll be—”
“Xavier is there,” Joaquim said and drew a deep breath, as if forcing himself to step back from the edge of panic. “He and Chuy went in early this morning, before sunrise, planning to ambush Sakal when he returned. But . . . Sakal was there, and—”
“Didn’t Xavier check the farm before he left?” She wanted answers, but she wasn’t waiting for them. Already running, she found Brian and gave him the hand signal for, “The shit’s hit the fan. Time to go.”
“Yes. I don’t know how it happened, but there’s too little time. You need to get to Barcelona—”
“We’re leaving. Now!” Layla hit the stairs, jumping down four at a time, holding onto the wall with one hand, the way she had as a child. She caught up with her team in the barracks. “Full gear, including comms. And we’ll need tents. Xavier—”
“—they’re trapped,” Joaquim was saying. “A spell keeping them in sunlight. Xavier can break the spell, but there are guards.”
“Address, damn it. I need an address!”
He gave it to her, his words already slurring. Fool should have started with that.
“Got it. Hanging up now.” She grabbed her gear and followed her team out to the SUV, talking all the way. “Xavier and Chuy are trapped in Sakal’s lair, with the sun about to hit them. We have to get there, kill whoever stands in our way, and get them to safety. You brought the tents, right?”
“Got ’em,” Brian said as he swung into the driver’s seat and started the engine, while the others were slamming the cargo door and piling in. “What the fuck are they doing there?” he asked, spinning the SUV in a dirt-spewing circle before speeding for the gate, which was already rising.
“I don’t know. Something to do with ambushing Sakal. Dumbass plan, but they’ll be dead if we don’t get there in time.”
“We’ll get there.”
“No speed limit,” she snapped. “I don’t care if every cop in the city is on our tail.”
“Roger that.”
XAVIER PACED AS he worked to break the penultimate spell. Fucking Sakal. Forget the spell, which he’d clearly created before he arrived. But the rest of the scheme, recruiting young people to do his dirty work, to attack the Fortalesa as a distraction until he was ready for the final step. Kidnapping the children to make sure Xavier took that final step. And then using his brother as a decoy. How the hell had he known Xavier would choose to stage an ambush, or anything else, for that matter?
There had to be a spy among his people. But who? He’d been so careful to let no one but Chuy and Joaquim know the final plan, and he’d have sensed if either of them had betrayed him. Hell, Chuy would die with him if he failed to get them to safety in time. And Joaquim? Impossible.
But then who? Someone else in the Fortalesa, someone so far down the chain of command, or someone he saw every day, and so no longer noticed as he went about his nights was guilty. Damn it. They were so careful with the people they recruited to the guard force, and he always did the final interview personally. There was no way in hell a human could have deceived him that much and slipped by. But the daylight guards were only a small percentage of the humans living in his Fortalesa. And even they could change their minds once they’d been accepted into the ranks. There were also visitors all the time. A cousin coming to visit, a new lover spending a few hot nights. It was impossible for him to check everyone who passed through the gates. Although, now that he knew, he’d tear down his beloved Fortalesa stone by stone until he found the traitor.
The spell layer gave way with another snap of power that had him raising a hand to protect his face. Damn sorcerers. He hated every one of the fuckers. He wasn’t old enough to have fought in the wars, but Josep had, and he’d met others who had, too. Ancient vampires who’d sworn fealty to him from the first, but who wanted only to be free to live quiet lives as artists and shopkeepers, even the occasional professional, a lawyer or a bookkeeper.
He walked over to check on Chuy, who’d withdrawn to a shady spot behind the bar. The sun wasn’t high enough yet to shine directly through the dome, and indirect light only weakened Xavier slightly. Chuy was strong enough to remain mostly awake, but his strength was failing, trying to pull him into sleep as the fire in his brain urged him to find a safe place. Xavier, too, sensed the coming fire, could hear the clock ticking down the time he had left.
He crouched down to lay a hand on Chuy’s arm and whisper, “Only a little longer.” And then he hurried back to continue his work. If he fell before he succeeded, he might die where he stood. And if he was forced to seek the little safety re
maining, would the spell stop Layla from reaching them? Would the fates be that cruel? To bring her back to him only to end his life?
No. He was no plaything for the fates, a piece to be moved on the chessboard of existence, subject to random chance or the mood of mythical beings. He was a fucking vampire lord and he would damn well determine his own fate.
He bared his fangs at one of Sakal’s bodyguards who’d drawn close, unaware that while she studied him like some exotic creature safely caged in a zoo, he was about to break down the only barrier that kept him from ripping out her throat. Switching his gaze to one that was intentionally seductive, he waited until her eyes were locked with his, unblinking and hazy, and then moving far too fast for her human senses to follow, he bared his fangs, snapped the final spell, and lunged forward, slashing her throat while her gaze was still locked on his. Then he leapt on the others.
Xavier forced himself to ignore the panicked slam of bullets, the sudden heat of a lucky hit that passed cleanly through his upper arm and shoulder, as he moved too fast for them to follow. It hurt like hell, but it wouldn’t do any permanent damage. He ripped the gun from the next guard’s hands, tearing her arm off in the process, and then, drawing one of his knives, he stabbed it through her heart.
Stupid of Xavier to have abandoned his own MP5, but just as stupid of Sakal to have been so certain of his spell that he hadn’t warned the women who protected him of just how dangerous a vampire lord could be.
The remaining women stared, too terrified to move, to react. Had they grown accustomed to Sakal and his brother? Had they believed no vampire could be as strong as the stories told about them? He stood there for a glorious instant, giving them that fang-bearing grin, and letting them see the arrogance and strength of a truly powerful vampire.
“Laugh, you fucker,” one of them whispered, her voice hoarse with fear, as the others tried to hide behind her. “You’ll be a pile of ash soon enough.”
He shrugged. “Why wait? Are you scared?”
She glowered silently as they sidled like a herd of sheep toward the elevator. “My master has forbidden it,” she muttered sulkily. “He wants you to suffer as the sun rises, as your blood cools and forces you to fall into sleep knowing you’ll never wake.”
Xavier laughed. “You think that’s going to happen?” he said. “That the coward you worship can save you? You’ll be dead long before me, girl, and your master with you.”
And he attacked, killing four more when the rest abandoned their comrades, leaving them to face the monster while they raced into the remaining elevator, most of them bloodied and begging, crying to their God, to their impotent master to save them.
He would have given chase—he could have killed them all before elevator was gone—but the sun was still rising and with every degree of movement, his strength declined. Not enough to disable him, not yet. But he still had to save Chuy.
“Run. Hide if you can,” he growled as the doors closed. “You will never escape my revenge.”
He crossed to Chuy, cursing the heavens and whatever gods might still permit this good man to die. His concentration was wavering, his massive power reserves lower than they’d ever been, when he reached out and without slowing, grabbed Chuy’s arm, forcing himself to keep moving until he collapsed against the shadow of the far wall, his lieutenant next to him.
His last sense of anything before he slept was the sound of a huge explosion filled with the shriek of tortured metal. And Layla’s voice calling his name.
LAYLA ALREADY HAD her door open when the SUV slid to a tire-screeching halt in front of Sakal’s lair. The building was just as Joachim had described in the briefing with Xavier, something that now seemed like a hundred years ago. She saw extensive damage as she ran up two steps to the big metal door, damage that appeared to have been repaired by welding the edges to the frame. Her first thought was that they’d used an odd choice of repair technique, since it sealed the door completely shut. But hard upon that observation, her brain was calculating the best way to blast through it. She called over her shoulder while she continued to study the barrier. “We need to blow through this thing fast. I don’t care what’s left, as long as you get me inside ten minutes ago.”
“Roger that,” came Brian’s voice, as Layla rushed to the back of the SUV and yanked open the cargo door. “Kerry, help me get these tents out.”
She leaned in to lend a hand, but said, “Tents, Cap? What—?”
“There are vampires inside,” Layla snapped. “And the sun’s up.”
“Fuck!” Kerry raced to grab a tent, dropping it next to the one Layla had already propped against the building wall, well away from where Brian and River were getting ready to blow the door. Kerry dumped the two ground sheets on top, then yelled, “What’s the delay on the fucking door?”
“On the three count,” Brian responded.
The huge door crashed inward, nearly drowning out the ding of an elevator as it announced the arrival of four blondes with sub-machine guns firing on auto.
“Get rid of those assholes!” she shouted, but River was already tossing flashbangs and smoke grenades, while the rest of the team grabbed for the tents and belly-crawled into a short, narrow hallway, which got them inside, but provided shitty cover.
“Cover us,” Kerry commed, and a moment later she and River were darting out, making for a curve of upward stairs to the immediate left of where the short hallway opened up. Once they were out of view and racing for better positions on high ground, Layla and Brian covered themselves, shooting wildly into the dwindling smoke while running behind a wall that curled right and ran under the mezzanine to form the damn circle.
Leaning against the wall, catching her breath before the blondes recovered enough to formulate a strategy, Layla studied the odd room. Other than the small area where the elevators landed, the room was one big circle, with a second-floor mezzanine hanging over all but a marble- floored section that was lit by a glass dome in the ceiling. The sunlight beaming through that damn dome had her stomach churning with dread, but there were still areas of shade deep under the mezzanine, and she thought she detected a boot sticking out from behind a . . . fully- stocked bar of all things.
There was no more time to sightsee, however. The smoke was down to wisps when the elevator opened and four more damn blondes raced out, panic firing as they ran, and not hitting anyone, because no one was in their line of fire.
They were in Kerry and River’s line of fire, however, and soon there were only three left out of what had been eight blondes. One of the survivors was flattened against the wall of the open elevator, near the button panel, while two others huddled low to the floor, behind the curve of the stairs.
The huddlers were from the first charge into the smoke after Brian had blown the door. Their less lucky teammates were lying dead on the floor. Unfortunately for the two huddlers, they couldn’t target Layla and Brian without stepping out of cover.
Elevator girl was the only survivor of the last suicide charge, but she also couldn’t shoot without exposing herself completely. Her three friends had done that, and they were very definitely dead, their bodies all but shredded, parts of them actually stopping the elevator doors from closing.
While a tiny part of Layla’s brain entertained the irrelevant thought of whether the damn bodyguards had bleach nights for all that blond hair, because no way it was natural, the rest of her was figuring out the best way to grab a tent and get to the opposite side of the circle, where she could still see that perfectly motionless boot behind the bar. With no warning other than a murmured “Cover me,” and a glance at Brian, she stepped out firing, reached for one of the tents lying half inside the damn entranceway and ran for the other side of the room.
“Layla, damn it!” Brian’s furious protest followed, but he changed his angle of fire to cover her movement, without shooting her, while at the same
time Kerry and River opened fire from up above, making sure the remaining bodyguards couldn’t risk exposing themselves to fire on her.
She was forced to dive to the ground, rolling for cover when a trio of shots smacked into the giant pillar next to her. But she managed to hold onto the damn tent when she scooted behind the damaged pillar and sent a hail of her own fire ripping into the stairway, destroying the wooden bannister, and taking out the remaining huddler. Someone else had killed the other one, probably either Kerry or River shooting from above.
Sakal’s guards were fucking idiots Layla thought, when she scooted around to face the bar. They should have gone up to the mezzanine the minute they fled the elevator. Hell, at least the first group had tried to keep them penned up in that stupid entry hall, to stop them from entering the building at all. Too bad for them that her team had big guns and better tactics. But at least it had been smarter than getting boxed into a fucking elevator.
Clearly, bodyguarding one man didn’t compare to fighting for your life in free-for-all war zones. Elevator blonde was still alive, but Layla wasn’t worried about her, since the round room provided all the cover she needed.
Reaching the bar, she shot a quick look behind her position and was relieved to see two big bodies lying in what was clearly the darkest corner they’d been able to find. Fear swelled in her heart. No, not bodies, vampires. They were both old and strong, and alive. Scooting backward on her ass until she reached them, she experienced a dizzying rush of relief to find they were still breathing, followed hard by hot fury that they’d been forced into these circumstances, and even worse, that they’d obviously been meant to burn with the sun.
Sakal had tried to kill Xavier. Chuy, too. But Xavier was hers now, and she, by God, defended what was hers.
Xavier: Vampires in Europe (Vampires in America Book 14) Page 27