Ganriel

by D. B. Reynolds

  “Contact the driver of the escort,” Raphael told him. “I want to know the minute they encounter any sign of trouble, and I want status checks when they pass Mulholland, clear the canyon, and arrive at the estate.”

  “Sire,” Juro said, and pulled out his cell phone to call the drivers, while Raphael strode back into the house. It was time to finish this.

  Fifteen minutes later, Juro telepathed him to say, “They’re through the canyon and on the highway.”

  Raphael threw a deadly punch of power at an enemy fighter who’d somehow gotten behind him, then looked around. With Hana heading for safety, there was no reason for his vampires to keep fighting. There was no way of knowing the status of Katsaros’s battle against Sotiris, which meant the enemy sorcerer could return at any moment to discover his prisoner gone. Raphael wanted Hana, along with all his people, behind the power and security of his own estate before that happened. One on one, he’d face the sorcerer any night, but he wouldn’t risk his vampires in a fight they couldn’t win.

  Touching Juro’s thoughts, he said, “We’re leaving. Get everyone out now.”

  Juro acknowledged the order and began giving his own orders, while Raphael circled around toward the back of the house where he could feel Cyn’s presence. She and two vampires were positioned at the narrow opening between the kitchen and a short hallway, trading shots with an unknown number of Sotiris’s fighters. He came up behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder. “We’re leaving.”

  She glanced back. “Hana?”

  “On her way to the estate with Gabriel.”

  She scowled and jerked her head toward the enemy fighters. “What about these guys?”

  “I don’t care about them. Our objective was Hana. Let’s go,” he said, giving his vampires a mental nudge at the same time.

  They retreated back to the front of the house cautiously, but most of the mercenary guards seemed to have gotten the message that the vampires were leaving, and were content to hold their fire. They were probably happy to have survived.

  “Is Hana really okay?” Cyn asked, as their SUV joined the final group of vehicles leaving Hidden Hills and heading back to their coastal base.

  “She’s injured, but alive. Dr. Saephan was advised and is waiting for her at the estate. Gabriel is with her.”

  “Any other injuries on our team?”

  “Some injuries, very few serious. They were already evacuated. No deaths,” he added, knowing what she’d been afraid to ask.

  “Good. How long—?” Her question was interrupted by a yawn.

  He smiled. “Two hours until sunrise.”

  “What’s our next step?”

  He thought for a moment. “We wait to hear from Katsaros, and hope he brings good news.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder. “You stopped calling him ‘that fucking sorcerer.’”

  “The exigencies of war, my Cyn. Never fear, I shall once again anoint him with his rightful title when this is over.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  RAPHAEL CLIMBED OUT of the SUV with Cyn but didn’t follow her up the stairs. “I’m going to check on Hana and Gabriel,” he said.

  “Oh, good. I’ll go with you.”

  He cupped her cheek. “Not this time, lubimaya. Gabriel needs me, but he won’t welcome an audience. This will be difficult for him.”

  She studied him, not quite understanding what he was saying. “Vampire shit?”

  He smiled. “Yes.”

  “And you’ll tell me later?”

  “I will, if Gabriel agrees.”

  “All right, then. Give them my love and tell Hana I’ll visit tomor­row.” She kissed him briefly, then continued into the main house.

  He waited until the doors closed behind her, then turned and headed for Dr. Saephan’s basement clinic. He let himself into the anteroom, then paused, listening to the subdued conversation going on in the next room.

  “I understand the importance of blood when it comes to mates, Gabriel, but you were badly injured yourself, just last night, and you won’t do Hana any good if you bleed yourself dry now. My mate stands ready to help you. He’s done it with others, and—”

  “No,” Gabriel growled, though Raphael could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

  Raphael stepped quietly into the room, returning Dr. Saephan’s grim look with a reassuring nod. Walking over, he placed a comforting hand on Gabriel’s shoulder.

  “My lord.” Gabriel’s head came up, as if just noticing Raphael’s presence.

  “Gabriel. Dr. Saephan, how is she?”

  “The head wound appears worse than it is, though she will prob­ably have a headache when she wakes. Her unconscious state is the result of blunt force trauma to the abdomen. In simple English, she was punched by someone much stronger than an ordinary human.”

  “Magically enhanced, rather than vampire,” Raphael commented. “Her kidnapper was a sorcerer.”

  Saephan nodded. “She has a ruptured spleen and significant internal bleeding, although thanks to Gabriel’s infusion of blood, it will not be necessary to remove the organ. I’m pushing fluids to improve her blood pressure,” he said, indicating the IV drip by her bedside. “She should recover fully, but it will take some time.”

  “She needs more of my blood,” Gabriel interrupted.

  Raphael squeezed his shoulder and glanced at Saephan. “If you could give us a moment, Peter.”

  “Of course, I’ll settle my vampire patients for the morning.”

  “How are they doing?” Raphael asked.

  “They’ll all be good as new by tomorrow night. Or near enough. It’s difficult to keep any of you down much longer than that, no matter what I recommend.” He disappeared into the next room, closing the door behind him.

  Raphael waited until he and Gabriel were alone, then pulled up a chair and sat next to him. “Hana knows you’re here, Gabriel. That’s why she’s sleeping so restfully.”

  Gabriel stared at him. “Are you sure? She hasn’t wakened since we brought her here, except for a few mumbled words.”

  “Her mind is restful, and look how she holds on to your hand. She feels safe.”

  Gabriel drew a long, relieved breath. “She could use more blood. Dr. Saephan doesn’t think I can handle a second bleeding, but I can.”

  “Hana is your mate, yours to care for.”

  “Yes. Mine.”

  Raphael smiled. He understood that possessive urge. He’d kill any vampire who tried to feed his Cyn. But he was a vampire lord, while Gabriel’s complicated history made him closer to a newly made vampire, rather than one created thousands of years ago when he’d been forcibly turned.

  “She is yours,” he agreed. “But Gabriel, you’re mine to protect, and so, Hana is, too. It was my failure that led to her kidnapping—”

  “My lord, no. If not for you, that bastard would still have her.”

  “Even so. I have a responsibility to both of you. You say she needs more blood. If you would permit me, I’d like to help.”

  Gabriel stared at him. “You would do that for my Hana?”

  “She is yours, Gabriel. And you are mine. I protect my own.”

  “I would be honored, my lord. Your blood is far more powerful. By tomorrow night, she’ll be sparring with Dr. Saephan’s other patients and driving him mad.”

  Raphael chuckled. “Dr. Saephan has quite enough excitement in his life. After she takes my blood, we’ll carry her to your personal quarters, so she can wake beside you. That’s the best medicine for her.”

  Gabriel brushed a tender hand over Hana’s sleeping face. “Thank you, my lord.”

  The door opened, and Dr. Saephan returned, stopping when he saw Raphael rolling up his sleeve. “My lord?”

  “Gabriel has agreed to let me help wit
h Hana. Should I use my fangs, or do you—”

  Saephan gave him a disapproving look and produced a scalpel. Peeling the sterile wrap, he bared the blade and offered it to Raphael. “I know you don’t require the protection, but humor me.”

  “Thank you.” Moving into position on the opposite side of Hana’s bed so that Gabriel could see everything he was doing, he sliced his wrist open with the sharp blade. Blood welled slowly at first, and he rubbed it over her lips, enticing her to drink. By the time the blood was flowing smoothly, she had grasped his wrist and was drinking eagerly. Raphael glanced at Saephan, waiting for a sign that she’d taken enough. When it came, he gently disengaged and stepped back.

  The doctor wiped Raphael’s arm clean and applied an adhesive bandage, though it was hardly necessary. His blood would coagulate in less than a minute, and the wound would be gone by the time he woke that evening.

  “We’re going to move Hana to Gabriel’s quarters, so he can remain with her,” Raphael informed Saephan, as he gently wiped blood from Hana’s lips. “Can we disconnect the IV? Or should we—”

  “By now, she needs Gabriel’s touch more than she needs saline.” The doctor slid the IV needle from her arm, using cotton and a bright pink adhesive wrap to put pressure on the puncture. “You’ll carry her?” he asked Gabriel, clearly knowing the answer. He knew vam­pires. He’d been living on the estate with his vampire mate for years.

  Gabriel answered by scooping up Hana and holding her close. Knowing what a fierce warrior she was, Raphael was struck by how delicate she appeared against the vampire’s broad chest and strong arms. “I’ll walk with you, open doors and such,” he told Gabriel, then glanced back as he followed the pair into the hall. “Thank you, Peter. I am, as ever, grateful for your excellent care.”

  Saephan lifted his chin. “This estate is my home. Its people are my people, vampire and human both. This is my way of protecting them.”

  Raphael dipped his head in respect and gratitude, then strode down the hall.

  Chapter Fourteen

  NICK STUMBLED AS he stepped out of the disintegrating wormhole and onto the sand of Santa Monica State Beach, just as the sun crested the horizon. There was no one to see him at that hour, at least no one who cared. The drunks barely gave him a second glance, and the early morning joggers were too absorbed in themselves to pay attention to anything else. If anyone had been paying attention, they’d have dis­missed it as a trick of the dawn light, because everyone knew that people didn’t appear out of nowhere.

  He counted on the human ability to rationalize almost anything, although if he was being honest, he’d have admitted that he didn’t give a damn this morning what people saw. He was worn-out tired and pissed as hell. He’d lost more than Sotiris this time, he’d lost Hana and didn’t know how he could face Gabriel with that knowledge.

  It was too late to call the vampires, but Damian or Kato would be able to tell him what had gone wrong, besides his own failure to stop Sotiris. But he had to reach his room first. Cell phones didn’t travel well through wormholes. He didn’t know if it was the distortion of time and space that fucked the devices up, or if it was the abundance of magical currents being bandied about. He tended to think the latter, since he always felt a bit battered himself when he emerged from one of the magical constructs. He hated those fucking things.

  He crossed the sand without taking his boots off, which he quickly realized was a mistake. He’d been thinking of the hassle of untying the combat style footwear, only to tie it back up once he reached the sidewalk. He should have thought about where he was. He could walk barefoot through the damn hotel lobby and no one would blink an eye.

  Crossing the concrete strand between the sand and the hotel, he schlepped through the café tables, past the elegant restaurant and piano bar, and into the lobby where he went directly to the elevators. The well-trained staff didn’t blink an eye at his appearance, or the sandy trail that was dribbling along behind him. They were trained to ignore the eccentricities of their wealthy clients. This was L.A., after all.

  Nick had lost his room key at some point during the hellish night, but it didn’t matter. He could zap the lock open faster than the damn key, anyway. Shoving the heavy door open, he made sure it closed and locked behind him, then added a quick warning spell. If anyone opened the door, he’d know, and the intruder would get a nasty surprise—a jolt of power strong enough to put him down and keep him there until Nick could respond directly.

  Stripping off his clothes as he crossed the living room portion of his suite and leaving them wherever they landed, he walked naked into the bedroom and dug his cell phone from the bedside table.

  He called Kato first, but got his voicemail. That was troubling. His warriors were both well versed enough in his methods to expect him to check in once the battle was over. Granted, past encounters had varied from a few hours to a few days, but he still would have expected to reach his men. He got his answers when he tried Damian.

  “What happened?” he demanded when Damian answered.

  Damian didn’t respond right away, but then he said cautiously, “We got Hana.”

  Nick’s breath caught in his throat. “You got her?” His question was little more than a whisper, as if he was afraid that saying the words would shatter the reality.

  “Yeah,” Damian said, sounding puzzled. “She was in rough shape and looked like someone had beaten her, but Gabriel called and said she’s going to be okay.”

  “You got her,” Nick repeated. Was it possible Sotiris hadn’t known? Or had he taken on too much with that final wormhole and fucked up his landing point in terms of time?

  “Are you okay, Nico?” Damian asked quietly.

  “Yeah. Just . . . it was a long night. Which hospital is Hana—?”

  “None. She and Gabriel, along with the two of us, were tucked into one of the vamps’ big SUVs and whisked away. Juro, the talkative twin, arranged it. He said they have a human trauma surgeon on staff.”

  Nick was suddenly exhausted. “Well, we won’t get any useful answers until sunset now. I’m going to take a shower and sleep.”

  “What about Sotiris?” Damian asked the one question Nick didn’t want to answer.

  “Fucker got away,” he snapped, and Damian knew him well enough not to pursue it. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  And then he did exactly what he’d told Damian. He took a short, hot shower, made sure the blackout blinds were drawn, then fell into bed. But he didn’t fall asleep until much later, haunted by Sotiris’s taunt about Dragan, his final missing warrior. If that bastard had somehow gotten hold of Dragan’s statue and hidden it away. . . . Hell, it could be centuries more before his man was found.

  When he finally slept, his nightmares were filled with images of Dragan, trapped in a dark room, surrounded by silence and despair.

  SOTIRIS WALKED through the ruins of his home, fury building with every step. He’d miscalculated somehow in crafting the wormhole for his return, or maybe he’d spent too much of his strength showing off, making sure that damn Katsaros couldn’t follow him. He wasn’t the fool they’d obviously thought him to be. He’d known that Katsaros’s attack was timed to pull him away and let his allies rescue the girl. But he’d been so confident, so filled with power after draining her talent to augment his own. Bursting with magical strength like he’d never felt before, he’d taken off to kill his longtime enemy, planning to warp the wormhole’s time calculation on his return home so that he could arrive before they managed to overwhelm his guard forces and steal the girl from him. He was a true genius when it came to tailoring the tricky wormholes, and with so much magic at his disposal . . . he’d been certain of success.

  But as he wandered the empty house, he found only bodies of the dead. The rest of the mercenaries he’d paid so well to defend him had disappeared, probably frightened off by vampires and their fangs,
like small children terrified of the night. Idiots. Worse than idiots. He should track them down and do the world a favor by killing them. He shook his head. They weren’t worth the money he’d paid them, much less the time and energy it would take to eliminate them all.

  No, this was on him. He’d had the girl and lost her. Katsaros probably thought he’d won the night’s battle, despite his pathetic showing. But he hadn’t won the war between them yet. There was still one major chess piece on the board. Dragan, the final warrior, and perhaps the deadliest of them all. Hell, Sotiris was doing the world a favor by keeping that one locked away. Philanthropist. The title sat well on him. He snickered, despite his rage, as he stared out at the perfect green hills behind his home. But no longer. He’d have to leave it behind once more, remaining on the move, one step ahead of Katsaros.

  Until he finally killed him.

  WHEN GABRIEL WOKE the next night, Hana was still curled against him the way she had been when he’d fallen into his daylight sleep. She’d been asleep then, or unconscious. He didn’t know what medical term Dr. Saephan would have used. She’d responded to Gabriel when he’d laid her on the bed, immediately curling up to him when he’d joined her. But she hadn’t opened her eyes, hadn’t said a word.

  He tipped his head down enough to see her face, his vampire enhanced vision telling him that her eyes were open. He kissed her forehead. “You want to talk about it?” he asked.

  She closed her eyes for a moment then nodded. “He tried to persuade me first.” She looked up at him and then away, as if embar­rassed.

  It infuriated Gabriel that his beautiful, brave Hana felt even the tiniest shred of responsibility for what had been done to her. He didn’t say anything, knowing the best thing for her would be to get it all out.

  “It was probably his idea of a rational discussion, but the threat was blatant. He really thought he could kill my grandfather, threaten to kill you, kidnap me by force, and still get me to help him willingly.”