Xavier: Vampires in Europe (Vampires in America Book 14)

by D. B. Reynolds

  “We’re getting ready to blow that,” Brian told him. “No need to secure anything that bastard Sakal owns.”

  “Yes. This will be faster, however.” Xavier lifted both hands toward the door.

  A moment later, Layla was gasping for breath as the short, narrow passage leading to the door filled with a wave of power that threatened to suck every bit of oxygen from the air. A moment later, barely in time to stop the black spots dancing in her eyes from becoming a complete blackout, she heard a sound like air being sucked into a vacuum, and then the heavy door frame and all the junk contained within it, were flying outward toward the street. She had the sudden thought that the damn door would crash into their SUV, which was parked a little too close. But before she could shout a warning, the door simply . . . stopped and hung in mid-air.

  Her heart was pounding from the juxtaposition of fear and relief, but when she stepped up next to Xavier, she was grinning. “Show off.”

  He glanced down, one perfect eyebrow arched innocently. “I have no idea what you mean by that.”

  She snorted. “Yeah, right. It’s all good,” she added when Brian shot her a doubtful look.

  They all moved fast after that, gathering up every piece of gear, anything that could possibly be used to identify them. As Brian had already made clear, they didn’t want to waste time trying to explain what had happened to local law enforcement. The vamps could always wipe memories if necessary, but it was better to avoid that if they could.

  River had been bored enough as they’d waited for sunset, that he’d succeeded in knocking out surveillance on the block, so there’d be no record of their departure. He’d taken out a good chunk of the electrical grid to do it, but city employees were already working on the unexplained failure, and had announced they’d have power restored soon. And that meant that both vampires and humans needed to be gone before that happened.

  Loading was mostly finished, with the bundled up remnants of tents and various weapons shoved into the cargo space of the Mercedes SUV. The biggest problem, however, showed itself when the time came to load themselves. Xavier and Chuy had arrived in the small sedan, but there’d also been the white van, which had been prepositioned for them. Unfortunately, both vehicles had either been flat out stolen, or more likely, Sakal’s minions had taken them both. The sedan had little value, but the van would have been a nice prize for a vampire. Especially one who didn’t like to admit his true nature.

  Xavier didn’t care much about where the vehicles had gone, or with whom. But the loss meant they now had just the one SUV for all their gear, plus four big men and two women.

  “Well, shite,” Riv said, eyeing the single, back bench seat. Someone was either going to be taking a taxi, or shoved into the cargo space.

  Kerry stepped up next to him and sighed. “I’ll sit with the cargo,” she volunteered. “I’m the only one who’ll fit. But I want major points for this.”

  “You can sit on my lap, petita flor,” Chuy volunteered, from where he stood in the open door of the front passenger seat. “There is more than enough room, and you can protect me.” He gave Kerry a smile so charming and so fucking deceptively innocent that it was like looking at a completely different vampire than the one Layla knew.

  She waited for Kerry to verbally rip his head off. Instead, the petite warrior who’d torn new assholes into every man who’d called her a little flower in the past, walked over to the vamp, placed one of her deadly hands on his chest, and said, “That’s so sweet. Thank you.” And then permitted Chuy, once he was in the seat, to lift her onto his lap.

  “Were there drugs in that food you brought?” she asked Riv.

  He turned his puzzled gaze on her. “If so, they were damn good ones.”

  “Load up!” Brian’s shout from the driver’s seat got them moving, with Layla wedged between Xavier and Riv in the back.

  “You sure about leaving that open?” Brian questioned, eyeing the wide-open doorway.

  “Leave it.” Xavier’s order was issued in a tone that softened it to a suggestion, but Layla saw Brian’s shoulders tense.

  “You had it right the first time,” she told him. “I don’t give a shit what happens to anything in there. It’s Sakal’s, and fuck him.”

  “Roger that,” he agreed.

  Ten minutes later, they’d left the city behind and were on the highway back to the Fortalesa.

  Xavier turned to her. “Your cellphone, if you would, cariño. Joaquim needs to be updated. And I’ll want to meet as soon as we return. You and Brian will join us. There’ll be no move on the enemy tonight, but we need to evaluate and update the relevant information—especially anything dealing with Sakal’s home estate, which I suspect is in France— and formulate a strategy. I specifically want to call the French vampire lord. He’s still very much consolidating his power, but the country is his territory, nonetheless, and that’s a courtesy I cannot ignore. Also, while Sakal is, as ever, a coward, he’s also very shrewd when it comes to his own survival. We’ll have a limited window before he scurries into much deeper hiding. If we’re to attack tomorrow, which we must, we’ll need to lock down his location, and develop a clear strategy before then.”

  Since she agreed with everything he’d said, she simply handed him her phone.

  Chapter Sixteen

  XAVIER TOOK TIME out for a shower before meeting with the others. At any other time, he’d have invited Layla to join him. Hell, he’d nearly dragged her in with him anyway. But there’d been such sensual hunger, such need in her eyes when he’d turned to her after their return. He’d recognized it, because his own gaze had certainly reflected that same desire, the same fierce longing. And once they came together, he doubted they would be capable of stopping until the fire was quenched—not even to plot revenge on his enemy. Not for anything. Stopping himself from having her when he’d awakened to find her next to him, when she’d fed him her blood . . . Shit. That had used up just about every ounce of control he possessed where she was concerned, where her blood was concerned. She was his, and he wanted to make damn sure she understood that.

  But this fucking meeting had to take place first. They couldn’t delay going after Sakal. The slimy bastard was too good at disappearing. Paradoxically, his weakness as a vampire made it easier for him to hide. Xavier was a powerful vampire and could locate virtually any one of his people if he set his mind to it. But if Sakal was no longer within Xavier’s territory, especially when combined with his weak vampire signature, his presence simply wouldn’t register.

  There were other ways to spy on the bastard, but he had to be found first. In times like this, modern technology was very useful. Xavier would deploy every resource at his disposal to locate the coward, and then he’d dig him out of his hole, and kill him. Slowly.

  Since thinking about Layla, and what he planned to do with her as soon as possible, had the predictable effect on his body, he finished his shower with a burst of freezing cold water that had him swearing the filthiest curses in every language he knew. Fuck, that had been cold. Cold enough that he feared his dick wouldn’t recover in time to be of use later, with Layla, he thought while stepping out and scrubbing himself back to life.

  Once all the parts of his body had recovered, however, he looked forward to the coming strategy session with anticipation. As always, the prospect of raining blood and disaster down on his enemy, of watching that enemy twist helplessly and beg for death, had his own blood running hot.

  He was pulling on his boots when his cell rang, and Joaquim’s name lit the display.

  “Joaquim.”

  “Sire.” His security chief’s voice held such devotion, and such relief that he’d returned safely, that it almost made Xavier doubt his own worthiness. Almost. He was too much a vampire lord, too much an alpha male, to ever truly question his value.

  “Where are you?” he asked
Joaquim.

  “On my way to your office, my lord. I’ve notified your senior military, and they’re not far behind me.”

  “Good. Have you spoken to Chuy?”

  “No more than to you, my lord. Layla provided an update earlier. It was waiting for me when I woke, so I know the essentials.”

  “And I know it was you who set her on our rescue this morning. You saved our lives, Joaquim.”

  “Layla and her friends did that. All I did was make a phone call.”

  “It was an important call, my friend. And we have an important matter to discuss. But not until you get here. Some discussions must be conducted in person.”

  “I am yours to command, my lord.”

  “Good. I’ll join you shortly.”

  He considered his good fortune in having had Chuy and Joaquim beside him as the centuries unfolded. They were both more than the sum of their official positions. They’d been friends, too. Others among Europe’s powerful vampires had commented on his ease in speaking to them—vampires who preferred to rule as human kings and queens once had, with formal courts and a lot of bowing and scraping, and justice that was arbitrary and unpredictable. Xavier, too, had been born an aristocrat, but he’d known too many verifiable idiots who’d been born to the kind of wealth that gave them power over others. He had no desire to be one of them.

  He stood, then unable to stop himself, called Layla, half expecting her not to answer. She’d had her own cleaning up to do, her own team to debrief. But she answered on the second ring.

  “Xavier.”

  “Are you coming . . . over?” He’d have sworn he heard her suck in a breath at his deliberate pause. Was her need as great as his? Was it taking every bit of her strength not to rush over and slam him to the bed? God, he hoped so.

  “Bastard,” she whispered, laughing. “You did that on purpose.”

  He grinned. “You’re coming to the meeting.”

  It wasn’t a question, but she answered anyway. “Yes. Brian and I are leaving now.” She hesitated, then added, “Not a word!”, warning him against making any comment about her second-in-command.

  “I’m not worried about your Brian,” he said dismissively. “Did you eat?”

  “Yes. Lots of grilled meat and vegetables. Brian’s ready, so we’re leaving now. See you soon!”

  She hung up without waiting for a reply, which he’d noticed she did often. He and his vampires did the same, but of course they could communicate telepathically, so it hardly mattered. He considered that for a moment. He’d never tried telepathy with Layla and wondered if she had any natural ability. It would help if she did, but soon, they’d be linked so thoroughly by blood that it wouldn’t matter.

  Opening the bedroom door, he strode out to his office to find Joaquim and Chuy settling at the table. Both stood when he entered, and he gripped each of their hands in turn—a warrior’s grip that ended in bumped shoulders and slapped backs. Because they were vampires, the bumps and slaps were strong enough to have staggered, and maybe even damaged, a human.

  Going to the bar, he poured a glass a quarter full with golden port, then opened the small refrigerator, took out the flask of fresh blood that was always there and filled the glass to the halfway mark.

  “Before the others get here, there’s a serious matter we must discuss. Sakal knew of our plan to ambush him. He knew sufficiently in advance that he substituted his brother, who looks very much like him, and who,” he added for Joaquim’s benefit, “was turned by a master vampire Sakal paid to do the job.”

  “Is it possible, my lord, that the brother was the one visiting the farm all along? That Sakal was alerted to your intrusion and simply took advantage?” Chuy asked.

  “Perhaps, but he had a very complex spell waiting to capture us. I’m no sorcerer, but I know enough of magic to say that a spell like that would have taken several days to cast. It was not only multilayered, but covered a wide area.”

  “We have a traitor in our midst then,” Chuy said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sire, no one knew, except . . . . ” He caught the wounded rage in Xavier’s eyes, followed the direction of his gaze, and stared in disbelief.

  “Why?” Xavier asked simply.

  Joaquim’s head was bowed, his eyes closed . . . in contrition? Or was it shame? “My grandson,” he whispered.

  “You would add lies to your treachery?” Xavier demanded, power rising within him, demanding to be released. “You have been a vampire far too long, have been in my service too long, to have a surviving grandchild.”

  Joaquim’s head came up, his face stricken, though he knew what he’d done. Or perhaps, he truly felt that much regret. “Not from my own child, no. But he is descended from my daughter’s line. I’ve told no one about my human family. I have no contact with them, either. None, my lord, I swear. From the first morning I woke as a vampire, I let them believe me dead. The sorcerer somehow discovered the boy—he is barely in his teens, Lord Xavier! I don’t know how Sakal found him.”

  “Why didn’t you come to me when he first approached you? Do you have so little faith in my power?”

  Joaquim was on his feet, and then his knees. “No, my lord. I swear. I was desperate to save the boy’s life and acted without thought. I . . . I called Layla at the last moment, hoping to save you. I didn’t want them to succeed!”

  “What you swear, what actions you took in the final moments to undo your treachery . . . it no longer matters. You served me loyally for many years, but in the end . . . You will never betray me again.” His power lashed out, and in a moment, the vampire whom he’d considered a friend was gone, reduced to a pile of ash in an instant. There was no drama, no ripping his heart from his chest and burning it before his eyes. A traitor deserved none of that. Just the meaningless ending of a life and a pile of dust on the floor.

  “Sire,” Chuy’s eyes were filled with tears, his face creased in sadness. “I don’t . . . ” He shook his head, unable to express the jumble of emotions inside him, which reflected Xavier’s own.

  “We’ll move the meeting to the conference room down the hall. Take care of that, please, Chuy.”

  He bowed his head. “Yes, my lord.”

  LAYLA WAS LAUGHING at a comment from Brian when they walked into the vampire wing and started for Xavier’s office. She looked up when the office door opened and Chuy came into the hallway, closing the door behind him. She smiled and raised a hand to greet him, but caught the look on his face and stopped. “Chuy?”

  “Ah, Layla. And Brian. The meeting is being moved. The conference room down the hall is bigger and Lord Xavier has invited some of his senior military staff.” He gestured to his right, presumably toward the new room.

  It all seemed very normal, except for the wretched expression on his face, in his eyes. And . . . her head came up. Xavier was behind that door, and . . . Christ, his heart . . . there was so much pain.

  “What the hell’s going on?” she demanded. “What’s happened?”

  Brian was searching the area, looking for some threat. But Chuy only shook his head and said, “Please come with me.”

  “Hell, no. I need to see Xavier. Right now.” She reached for the door. Chuy would have stopped her, but Brian stepped in.

  “Don’t touch her. What’s going on, Layla?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m going in there. I like you, Chuy. But get the fuck out of my way.”

  The vampire, who was powerful enough to have killed them both on the spot, lowered his head in surrender. “Perhaps he needs you.” Then glared at Brian. “Not you,” he said in a hard voice.

  “It’s all right, Brian.” She placed a hand on his arm. “I’ll sort this out, and join you in a minute.”

  “You sure about this?”

  “I’m sure. This is . . . ” She frowned, trying to describe somethin
g she didn’t fully understand yet. “Private. I think.”

  “All right. But I’ll be close. If you need me, just holler.”

  She nodded, touched his arm in reassurance, then opened the door and walked into Xavier’s office.

  XAVIER’S HEAD SHOT up when the door opened, a furious command on his lips. He needed solitude in this moment. Needed to grieve for the loss of a good man who’d fought at his side for more than a century. He needed . . .

  “Layla.”

  She came directly to his side, her face creased in concern, her emotions as tangled as his own when she took him in her arms. “Baby, what happened? What is it?”

  Baby, he thought. Had any woman ever called him that before? “We spoke of a spy, someone who betrayed our plans to that filthy sorcerer.”

  “Did you find who it was? Was it someone . . . close?”

  Tears fell then, warm tracks of wet heat on his cheeks. “Joaquim.” There was disbelief in his voice still.

  “Joaquim, but . . . he called me. He’s the reason we were there to save you.”

  “Regret at the last moment,” he said. His voice hardened. “That does not erase his treachery.”

  “It sure as hell doesn’t,” she snapped. “What the fuck? Why?”

  He held onto her, soaking in concern along with the staunch outrage on his behalf. His Layla was a warrior. She understood the magnitude of his loss. The pain.

  He would have dropped to the floor then, had she not held him as he stood, not guided him to a chair and settled on his lap, her arms strong around him. “Fuck him,” she growled. “I don’t care why he did it. It doesn’t matter.” Her head turned. “Is that . . . him?”

  Xavier saw her staring at the pile of dust that was, in fact, him. “Yes.”

  “Good call on moving to a different conference room. Can you get someone in to . . . vacuum?”