Duncan

by D. B. Reynolds

  He looked up as Duncan crouched next to him, barely able to meet Duncan’s gaze as his head lolled weakly backward.

  “You should have taken the easy way, Victor,” Duncan said, breathing hard from his own exertion.

  Victor grinned one last time, blood staining his teeth and dripping down his chin. “Fuck you, Duncan,” he rasped harshly.

  Duncan laughed. “As you wish.”

  He slammed his fist into Victor’s torso, ripping through skin and bone, to wrap his fingers around the vampire’s beating heart and yank it out of his chest. As Victor sucked in a final groaning breath, Duncan held the still-beating heart before his eyes and sent a concentrated blast of power directly into the pulsing organ.

  Victor shrieked as his heart burst into flames, as his body began to disintegrate, as he became nothing more than a pile of ash to mix with the broken china and crushed food of the too small room. In a far away faint echo of their Sire’s passing, Victor’s two remaining vampire guards—the two he’d left lying in a room near the front door—died along with their Sire, as did the pathetic creatures in the basement, falling into dust with barely a whisper.

  Duncan started to stand, but he fell back to his knees as frantic cries filled his head, the vampires of Victor’s territory screaming out for their Master, pleading for reassurance and understanding, begging to know what was happening. Duncan closed his eyes, groaning at the overwhelming flood of impressions, details, identities, hopes, wants. Raphael had told him what to expect when Victor died, when the burden of lordship fell upon Duncan, but nothing could have prepared him for the physical weight of it, for this sucking whirlpool of need that would bleed him dry if he didn’t do something.

  Throwing his head back, eyes still closed, he roared out a command for silence. As if cut by a blade, the flood of demands stopped dead. Duncan drew a deep breath and, despite his exhaustion, let his power flow out to every vampire in the territory, offering surety, offering support, letting them know that they had a new Master, but he was strong enough to take care of them. And that he would tolerate no rebellion, that challengers would die if they faced him.

  Slowly he withdrew. The bond was established and it was strong. The territory’s vampires were still there, a whisper of presence in his mind, like the nearly silent voices of an empty church. It was a weight on his heart that oddly reminded him of the first time he’d known he loved someone, that constant pressure in one’s chest that is both a welcome presence and a frightening reminder of the persistent vulnerability that comes with love.

  There were those among his new territory’s vampires—his vampires, now—who remained uneasy, but that was expected. There were others who were curious enough that he knew they’d show up in the coming days, perhaps even to test his power, to see if he was as strong as he seemed. And that was expected, as well. But in the final analysis, no one had died—beyond Victor and his four bodyguards, and those pathetic creatures in the basement, who never should have been created at all—and that was a victory. The Capital Territory was small, only encompassing the District of Columbia, Delaware, Maryland, and Virginia. Several hundred vampires lived in those states, many of whom had been there longer than Duncan had been alive. He had taken the territory with relatively few meaningful deaths, but it remained to be seen if he could hold onto it without the need to kill a few more.

  Footsteps thundered down the hallway behind him with unnatural speed. There was no need to turn around to know that it was Miguel and Louis, responding to his distress and ready to defend him. The two of them were his only children for now, although there would soon be more. But they would always be the first. He’d turned them both fifty years ago, when he and Raphael had decided to take the first real steps toward this day.

  Victor had been right about one thing. Raphael supported this move. Victor’s corruption had long chafed at Raphael, especially in the last few years, when it had become more and more difficult to maintain the secrecy of vampire existence. Victor’s excesses had become an embarrassment and worse to the vampire community he was supposed to represent in the U. S. capital. But it wasn’t until the recent alliances with both Rajmund and Sophia had been cemented that Raphael and Duncan had decided the time was finally right to make a move against the powerful Washington, D.C. Vampire Lord. It was time to install someone Raphael trusted, someone who shared his larger vision of the future of vampires on this continent, someone powerful enough to take on Victor and win.

  If Duncan had asked for it, Raphael would have gladly lent him an army of vampires to take with him to D.C. But it had been important to Duncan to seize the territory on his own, with his own people. Miguel and Louis were his, and they would always be the ones who’d stood with him when this all began.

  “My lord!” Miguel skidded into the room first, going to his knees next to where Duncan still knelt on the filthy floor. “Sire, are you all right?”

  Duncan smiled. “The territory is ours.” He stood, letting Miguel give him a hand up, and then turned to include Louis. “And now the real work begins.”

  Chapter Four

  Emma Duquet parked her small Honda beneath a winter-bare cherry tree and stared at the elegant white mansion down the block. It was all lit up, sitting there like a queen lording it over the rest of the houses—the biggest lot and the biggest house on a block of big houses. Even the tiniest home on this street probably cost more than she’d earn in a lifetime. She frowned. Well, maybe not an entire lifetime. She planned to live long and well, if only to spite the Fates which seemed to have been against her so far.

  A dump truck lumbered past, its headlights picking out the incongruous pile of debris sitting inside the house’s fancy iron gate. In her neighborhood, that trash would have been dumped right on the street for pickup, but they probably had codes about that sort of thing around here.

  The driver of the truck leaned out to speak into a receiver on the side of the mansion’s small guard house, obviously announcing his arrival since the guard house itself was empty. The gate rolled open, but instead of driving forward, the truck reversed into a quick three point turn before backing through the gate and stopping with the rear of the truck bed right next to the pile of junk. Not seeming to care that their truck kept the gate from closing, two men jumped out and began tossing junk from the debris pile into the open bed of their vehicle.

  Emma watched curiously, wishing she’d thought to bring some binoculars with her. On second thought, sitting in this district and staring through binoculars might get her arrested. For that matter, she’d better do something besides sit here, or someone would call the police on her. Washington was a very paranoid place these days.

  Decision time. The gate was open, a golden opportunity if ever there was one. She could waltz right up to the front door of the vampire embassy and request an audience with the ambassador or whatever the hell they called him. She’d probably never get a better shot than this. Of course, it was also possible she’d waltz through the gate and into the arms of some angry guards. Maybe even a dog or two. Although, she didn’t see any dogs and besides, the stories all said dogs didn’t like vampires. Plus, with the gate open like that, if there were dogs, they’d surely be—

  “Snap out of it, Em,” she scolded herself. She had a tendency to overthink things as a way of postponing the inevitable. And this visit was definitely inevitable. Her roommate Lacey was missing, and Emma had run into a brick wall in her own attempts to find her. But someone in that house knew exactly where Lacey was, and Emma intended to find out.

  She got out of her car and looked around. No one was watching. She hurried down the street, slowing as she neared the battered truck. Changing her quick dash into a brisk, confident walk, she strode past the two busy men with a nod and a smile, as if she came this way every night.

  The driveway was one of those long curving things, and between her nerves and the three inch heels she’d worn to work, she was a bit winded by the time she reached the pretty brick stairs. She paused
at their foot and drew a calming breath.

  “You can do this, Em,” she whispered and took the stairs at a quick trot.

  She reached the front door and stared in surprise. The lock had been destroyed. It looked like someone had fried it. Weird. But convenient. Between that and the open gate, the gods were clearly smiling on her mission tonight. She touched the knob delicately to be sure it was safe, then pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  It was dark, although not spooky dark. There were a few lights down a hall that disappeared behind the big staircase right opposite the door. And a crystal chandelier overhead that looked as if it was on its dimmest setting. The crystals gleamed a yellowish gray, as though the light was not strong enough to punch through the glass.

  Emma took another step inside, shivered, and closed the door behind her. It was surprisingly warm, despite the shadowy lighting. A part of her had expected it to be as cold as a tomb, like with the vampires from the movies. But there was a pleasant fire burning in the room to her right, the sight of which had been blocked by the open front door. The room had the look of a small library and was softly lit by pretty Tiffany-style lamps which were perched on a desk and on two small, round side tables. She heard the distinctive sound of someone sliding a book back onto a shelf and took a tentative step toward the doorway.

  “Hello?” she called softly, somehow reluctant to announce her presence in this big empty-feeling house. She tiptoed closer to the room and shrieked, jumping back and nearly tripping on her own heels as a big, blond man suddenly stepped into view.

  He eyed her curiously, his full lips curving into a faint smile. “May I help you?” His voice was smooth and easy, and it brought to mind the cool water running in gentle mountain streams back home.

  Emma stared at him. He could definitely help her, but probably not in the way he meant. Emma liked tall guys, not giant tall, but tall enough that at five-six she could still wear high heels without being taller than her date. Not that she had that many dates with her work schedule, but one could always hope.

  This guy was more than just tall, though. He was lovely. Late twenties, maybe a bit over six foot, with long blond hair falling loosely over broad shoulders. He had strong arms and a taut, muscled chest that filled out a dark blue, long-sleeved t-shirt and tapered down to a tight, flat abdomen. Faded denims clung to narrow hips and muscular thighs, and . . .

  “Excuse me,” he repeated in that same soothing voice, but with an undercurrent of amusement. “Did you want something in particular?”

  Emma flushed, embarrassed at being caught ogling. What was she thinking? She wasn’t here to pick up some guy, no matter how delicious he was.

  “Yes,” she started, then, discovering her throat was too dry to talk, swallowed. She coughed and started again. “Yes, I’d like to see the ambassador, please.”

  Warm brown eyes crinkled at the corners. “You may have noticed,” he said, his gaze sweeping over what she could see of the obviously not-open-for-business embassy, “that we’re in transition here. The old ambassador has been called home. However, his replacement will be in place soon, and when he is, I’m quite certain he’ll be happy to meet with you.”

  “Oh,” Emma said, suddenly worried. “You mean Victor’s gone? Like for good?” When he nodded, she asked, “How long will it be before I can meet with whoever’s in charge then?”

  The blond tipped his head to one side appraisingly. Was he trying to decide if she was worth disturbing the new guy? Emma straightened self-consciously, wanting him to know she was a serious person, here on business, which might seem questionable after her earlier bout of hormonal gawking.

  “Can you wait a few moments?” the hunk asked.

  Emma jerked in surprise. “Sure,” she said immediately. “I mean, yes, of course. Uh, where do you want me to wait?” She glanced around, then leaned to one side, looking past him into the library, which appeared to be full of intriguing books.

  Oddly, the blond didn’t seem to know where to put her while he went to check on the new ambassador’s whereabouts. Maybe he’d arrived with the new guy. An unwelcome thought popped up its horny head. Considering the way he was dressed and his total fitness and general hunkiness, maybe he was the new guy’s boyfriend. Damn. Why were all the gorgeous guys gay?

  The blond suddenly grinned, as if he knew what she was thinking. “You can wait in—”

  Fast, heavy footsteps thudded from somewhere deep in the house moments before a dark-haired man barreled in from the hallway behind the stairs. Moving incredibly fast, he did a standing slide and stopped in front of the blond like a runner into home plate.

  “Forgive me, my—”

  “It’s all right, Miguel,” the blond interrupted. “This young lady . . .” He turned to look at her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get your name.”

  “Oh. No, I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I should have introduced myself. Emma Duquet.” She stepped forward and held out her hand.

  The blond carefully took her hand into his, as if afraid he’d crush it. And maybe he could have, because his hands were just like the rest of him—beautiful and big, with broad palms and square fingers. Hard, too, not soft and pillowy like so many of the men here in Washington. Those strong fingers curled around hers and he squeezed gently, his grip lingering a touch longer than would have been perfectly polite. But who cared about polite? Emma was in love, or at least lust. Maybe he wasn’t gay after all.

  “I’m Duncan,” he said. “And this is Miguel.”

  No last names for either of them. Huh. Weird. Maybe it was a vampire thing, although she was pretty sure neither one of these guys was a vampire. Not that she knew what a vampire looked like—that was more Lacey’s thing. But these two looked more like frat boys getting ready for a party than all-powerful masters of the universe.

  She offered her hand to Miguel in turn, but he only stared at it suspiciously and stepped between her and Duncan as if she had a disease or something.

  “She can wait in the library, Miguel.”

  The dark-haired man gave Duncan a surprised look.

  “The ambassador will definitely want to see her,” Duncan added, glancing her way with a quick there-and-gone smile.

  Miguel’s eyebrows shot up, taking his whole hairline along for the ride.

  “If you’ll make Ms. Duquet comfortable,” Duncan was saying, “I’ll see to the ambassador.”

  Emma watched as Duncan disappeared back the way Miguel had come. He moved like a big, graceful cat, the way professional athletes moved, as if every muscle was in tune with all the others. And such a pleasure to watch, too.

  “This way,” Miguel said, interrupting her admiration of Duncan’s departing studliness. He was frowning when she looked back at him. Miguel didn’t seem to like her for some reason. No, it was more like he didn’t approve of her. Well, tough. Emma didn’t look for anyone’s approval but her own. And she sure as hell hadn’t clawed her way through college and law school in order to worry about what some diplomatic flunky thought about her. Besides, she wasn’t here to make friends.

  “Thanks,” she said, and strolled confidently into the library as if she owned the place.

  “Have a seat,” Miguel said, making it sound more like an order than an invitation.

  “I’ll stand,” Emma said. She actually would rather have sat, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Okay if I look around?”

  Miguel’s frown deepened. He scanned the room carefully, as if looking for things she might sneak into her pockets on the way out. Emma just gave him a droll look. For God’s sake, this was obviously intended to be a waiting room for visitors. Look how close it was to the front door! If they were going to hide the embassy treasures, it wasn’t going to be in this room, was it? Get a clue!

  “Sure,” he said finally. “I’ll be nearby.”

  Emma smiled. “Fine.”

  * * * *

  Duncan stripped off the comfortable denims and t-shirt he’d been wearing, albeit no
t without a regretful sigh. The confrontation with Victor had been less than twenty-four hours ago, and he’d hoped for at least a few days of privacy before the outside world intruded. They were still working on security, still searching every inch of this huge house for eavesdropping devices, hidden cameras, concealed doors and escape routes. It would be easier once the rest of Duncan’s team arrived from California later tonight. If nothing else, it would be more eyes searching and ears listening. Several of Raphael’s vampires had volunteered to accompany Duncan to this new posting, but he’d taken only a few and only the ones with a deep security background. Everything else could be taken care of later, but the first order of business had to be making this place secure.

  Which brought up the fact of the lovely Ms. Duquet’s unexpected appearance in his front parlor and how she’d managed to get there. As if summoned by the thought, Louis knocked lightly on the door of the bedroom suite that Duncan had taken for himself.

  “Come in, Louis.”

  The stocky vampire cracked the door open just enough to slip through and assumed a parade rest position. Louis now belonged to Duncan body and soul, but before he’d become Vampire, he’d been a soldier, forged in the heat of battle, and he still had fond memories of his days as a military man.

  Duncan buckled the belt on his suit trousers and sat down to put on a pair of black dress socks. “How’d she get in?”

  “The dump truck, Sire. They blocked the gate open with their vehicle while they loaded the trash, and she slipped past. I take responsibility for—”

  Duncan sighed. “It’s not your fault. The three of us simply aren’t enough to secure an estate of this size. It will be easier after the others get here—and after Miguel brings in the daylight team. In the meantime, I suggest we close the gate and ignore any callers.”