Dark Xanadu Book One

by Sindra van Yssel

  At last he pulled out of her, expertly divesting his penis of its rubber sheath and dropping it in a nearby trashcan. She grinned at him, her dress once again dropping into place, barely covering her sex.

  He smiled back. The tight-lipped tension that had been on his face when she entered and during their lovemaking was gone. He pulled her into his arms. She laid her head against his shoulder, her hands squeezing firm biceps.

  Kent finally broke the silence. “I’ve been thinking about doing that all week.”

  Angela raised her eyebrows. “I’ve been wondering why you didn’t do that last night.”

  Kent chuckled. “Trying to impress you with my self control.”

  “Well, I’m impressed now, big boy.”

  Again the chuckle. “That’s big boy, Sir.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Just like that, he’d changed the mood. She enjoyed teasing him. But simply calling him Sir was enough to make her breasts and pussy start aching with want. And even aside from the lustful feelings, it gave her a sense of peace. The lust she sort of understood, but the rest seemed to defy all common sense.

  “We’ve got all day,” he whispered. “We’re safe until the night. But—” His face showed his reluctance. “We should spend some of it preparing.”

  “What can we do?” she asked, and then added, “Sir,” not wanting to let the moment go entirely. She might not have many more moments left.

  He smiled at her. “Such a lovely sub,” he said, stroking her cheek. She wasn’t sure whether it was the words or the touch that made her shiver. “They’re vulnerable to fire, but we don’t want to burn the club down. People are vulnerable to fire, too. But I think there are other things we can do.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Kent surveyed the room. The crowd at Dark Xanadu was similar to the BDSM crowd, and different. There was a lot of flesh on display, certainly, but the swingers wore more colorful clothing and there wasn’t as much leather. There weren’t lines to use most of the equipment, either. Instead, people canoodled on couches and groped in dark corners. The lighting was kept lower for the sake of the shy, but there were plenty of exhibitionists.

  One woman had brought a large reddish-brown dog, the largest Kent had ever seen. It had to be at least half wolf. The dog sat perfectly still and well-behaved at her feet. He supposed the dog discouraged unwanted approaches—probably wanted ones, too. The woman wore a mask, but something about her looked familiar. She was part of the BDSM crowd. A sub, he thought, although she looked anything but submissive now.

  “Almost too dark to play safely,” said Charles. He’d shown up an hour before the swinger event started. Against normal people, Kent would be happy to have Charles at his side during a fight. He was strong and quick. Against vampires, Kent wasn’t at all sure. But the man had a right to be involved if he wanted to be, and he apparently wanted to be.

  Kent nodded. He’d had an argument with the organizers about the lighting, and he suspected the compromise they’d agreed on wouldn’t be followed unless he was there to enforce it.

  Genna had shown up twenty minutes later, insisting on helping. Genna would be even less useful than Charles in a fight against vampires, but Genna and Angela had a role to play. He didn’t know if the trick he had in mind would work or not, but it was worth a shot. He’d have to protect Genna with his chi—Charles, too—and gamble that the training he’d given Angela that afternoon would suffice for her. He’d pushed her to focus until she couldn’t keep her eyes straight anymore, and then they’d gone to the shooting range for some practice with a handgun. A little pistol wouldn’t do squat against a vampire. The entire usefulness of a gun against them was in the kinetic energy the bullet transferred, which might slow a vamp down or stun them. The hole it made didn’t do a thing.

  So Angela had practiced with a .45 semi-automatic, which had way too much kick for her for any normal purpose. Her hands and shoulders were sore, but she didn’t complain. In a crowded room like Dark Xanadu’s main floor, he hoped she never had to fire it, but it would give her an extra second to live if she hit a vamp at point-blank range. Hopefully, he’d be able to do something useful with that second.

  There was no sign of Brennan. If anyone had been there, Kent had thought it would have been him.

  Maybe Mario wouldn’t make a move tonight. No way he was dead already. That voice must have been a recording triggered, like the explosion, when the metal plate sprung up. Nothing else made sense. Mario might even think that Kent and Angela had perished in the fire, but Kent doubted it. Mario would keep himself better informed than that.

  He grabbed one of the blue metal folding chairs, moved it to the corner of the room where he planned to make a stand if need be, and told Angela to sit. She was obviously nervous. Who wouldn’t be? And he knew a way to calm both their nerves without letting his guard down. He massaged her shoulders, finding the knots of tense muscles through the fabric of her smooth silk blouse. He hadn’t ever remembered telling a sub to wear jeans before—he much preferred the accessibility of a skirt—but this was one time when ease of motion was more important than bared legs or easy access. They’d have fun later, during the day, or once the danger was passed. Even in casual blue jeans and a loose lavender blouse, Angela looked sexy.

  Forty-five minutes after the swinger’s party started, three vampires walked in. Greenie—Peter—was instantly recognizable by everyone. He was dressed a less outlandishly, with black jeans and a black T-shirt, but he still stood out. Kent recognized Mario, too, although at least the man blended in better. With a white starched shirt and a loud red tie, the vampire would have fit right in with this crowd, and his dark good looks would have made him popular even without the glamour. There was a woman with them Kent hadn’t seen before, a brunette who wore her hair long and was dressed in an Emma Peel catsuit. He’d been hoping they’d just be facing two, but apparently he wasn’t that lucky.

  People got out of their way in a hurry, so they must have been throwing their glamour around. They walked forward until they stood in a line twenty feet from Kent. Charles stood at his right side. Angela, as planned, moved off a ways to the left. Genna was trying to blend in with the crowd, standing near the wall twenty feet to the right of Charles.

  Kent put his hand on the hilt of his sword, carried at his side.

  “We can do this the easy way, Kent,” said Mario. “You and the girl come peacefully with us, and everyone else lives. Or we can do this the messy way, have it out in public, and worry about witnesses afterward. What do you say?”

  He’d thought Mario might offer them a deal. If it had been just him Mario had wanted, he’d decided to take it. He had no illusions that Mario held anything but death for him, and no doubt a painful death at that. No one would rescue him. But if his life was what it took to keep Angela and his friends here safe, he’d give it. But Mario asked for Angela too, and that was out of the question. Even if he bargained Mario down at this point, Mario’s intentions were clear. With him out of the way, no one would be able to protect her.

  “No,” he said. Charles spoke with him. He wished he hadn’t, it only made Charles more of a target. The vampire woman looked at Charles and smiled. He felt the psychic push as she tried to roll Charles’ mind, and he pushed back with his chi. She looked surprised to be thwarted, and even with Kent’s shield holding, Charles stared at her. There was no way he could protect him once a fight got started, which was the only thing that stopped him from drawing his sword.

  “Fine.” Mario turned around, facing the party. Most people were carrying on, absorbed in their partner or partners and oblivious to the scene around them, but there were a few gawkers. Mario bared his fangs, and even though it wasn’t directed his way, Kent could feel the power coming off him. Everyone else felt it, too, and started moving for the doors or the opposite corner.

  The doors, people. Go for the doors. But Kent couldn’t control them. The people who stayed behind would be witnesses. Hopefully their memories would just be erased after
the fight. Kent frowned, realizing he was assuming that he would lose. That might be a good bet, but he wasn’t about to give up. He nodded off to his right, and drew his sword halfway. There was a technique that used the resistance of the draw to add power to the first cut. It was easily countered if you knew it, but he was willing to bet that none of his opponents did. He had to hope he had some advantages.

  Everything moved in one sudden flurry of motion. Peter ran at him, and Mario turned from scaring the others to follow. He’d hoped they’d come in a line, but oh, well. The woman didn’t move, just focused her will at Charles. Well, fine. If the two of them took each other out of the fight, that was more use than he expected to get out of Charles. He’d keep his shields protecting him as long as he could.

  Genna threw something to Angela, in response to Kent’s nod. He couldn’t see if Angela caught it, but she must have done so cleanly because Peter stumbled on the nearly invisible fishing line stretched between the two women. Mario, damn his vampire reflexes, stopped in time, but that left Peter stumbling alone, right in front of Kent. His sword made a snicking sound as it left its sheath and sliced along Peter’s neck, sending the green-haired head flying from its shoulders. There was no blood; body and head were both bone dry, the skin withering in seconds.

  Mario ripped the fishing line in two with one quick yank of his hands, and walked forward. “Very nice, Kent. But it won’t work on me.”

  Kent held his sword out, ready. He felt Charles moving away from him. He couldn’t protect him with his chi anymore, nor could he help Genna. And Angela would have to look out for herself. He knew that he couldn’t poke at Mario and do any damage, nor would a quick slice be sufficient. He had to get a blow in with something behind it, and that would take precious fractions of a second that Mario was unlikely to give him. Still, he waited, step by step, for Mario to come within range, hoping that he’d be fast enough.

  Angela had her gun out. That might give him the time he needed, if she hit Mario. But if she missed, she might very well hit Genna or Charles. And if she tried firing at the woman, there were all the swingers. Kent brushed the thoughts aside, focusing on the exact moment to strike. Angela would have to make her own decisions about risks and benefits. He had to put everything he had into one swing of sharp curved steel.

  He swung. Mario ducked, and as the blade went swooshing past, he hit the back edge of it with his hand. The back edge wasn’t sharp, and it didn’t do a thing to Mario’s hand, but the force of the blow reverberated down the blade and made Kent’s hand go numb. The blade clattered to the floor. A second later, Kent followed, knocked over by Mario’s charging body. His sword was barely out of reach, and Mario was on top of him, holding down his hand with a vise-like grip.

  “This is the end, Kent. Let us savor it. Even vampires take a few seconds to burn, you know. We suffer, slowly, as you shall suffer. I’m going to drain you bloody dry.”

  In front of all these people? Mario would have some explaining to do if he made such a public show, but the last thing Kent wanted to do was to remind him of the witnesses, especially Angela. He grinned at Mario. He wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of looking frightened.

  A moment later the grin faded. A gun boomed off to his side. Mario winced for a moment, but didn’t loosen his grip as Kent tried to grab for the sword. “Take care of the girl, Doreen. Now. You can have the man later.”

  Another boom, and Mario flinched again, but didn’t let go. Good on Angela; she hit him twice. He glanced over toward her. The woman, Doreen, grabbed the gun from Angela’s hand and shoved her away into a pile of cushions. Angela was okay, for now if not for long. Maybe she’d have the good sense to run if he tried to distract Mario. With Mario holding his hands, he managed to raise his knee and get the man in the groin. Any normal man would have screamed, but the only way he knew Mario even noticed was that the vampire returned the favor, but much harder. Kent gritted his teeth. Holy shit, that hurt.

  Mario grinned at him, nuzzling his lips against Kent’s neck. “Enough with the foreplay,” Kent growled. “If you can’t get your teeth hard, it’s not my problem.”

  A sharp nip let him know that wasn’t the issue. Mario was toying with him. He licked at the blood coming from Kent and purred. Mario bit again, deeper, ripping a chunk of flesh off and spitting it out onto Kent’s face.

  Kent fought down the wave of nausea. He wasn’t going to give in, even if in Mario’s steely grip he was powerless to defend himself. He concentrated on his captor’s hands, alert for any weakening of the grip that held him fast, particularly on his left, the hand closest to the sword. Mario bit again.

  Then there was a flurry of fast footfalls. Kent saw a brownish-red blur collide with Mario, and Mario let go of his hands. Kent reached out for the sword with his left hand. When the grip on his right hand loosened as well, he rolled toward the sword and scrambled to his feet with the hilt held in two hands.

  The great dog he had noticed before was tangled up with Mario. The dog wasn’t winning. The canine’s teeth were in Mario’s neck, but Mario had broken one of its forelegs, and it hung at an awkward angle. The vampire’s hands were around the dog’s neck, choking the life from it.

  Kent put all he had into one swing downward. He wasn’t at full strength, but he had gravity working for him. He focused all his will, letting his shield down to put every ounce of his chi into the stroke.

  Mario’s head rolled off him to the floor. The features contorted, as if for a moment Mario was aware of what had happened, but it was an illusion, Kent realized. It was the sudden withering that struck vampires when the final death was upon them that pulled his foe’s face into an expression like agony. The end had been quick for Mario. So be it. Resolution was more important than any petty revenge.

  The dog—wolf, Kent realized—panted for breath. He met its eyes for a moment, and saw his friend Brennan’s eyes staring back at him. No wonder Brennan had backed him up about vampires. In a flash he realized that the woman at whose feet the wolf had been sitting was someone who he’d seen play with Brennan in the past. He gave Brennan a nod. His secret was not Kent’s to share. Nor was everything over. One vampire was still quite a threat.

  He looked over at her. She was on the floor, kneeling, and looking over toward him. “Please don’t kill me,” she said.

  “Back off with the mind tricks,” he told her. She’d transferred her attentions from Charles to him, for a moment, and he barely focused his chi again in time. She switched back to Charles, but he blocked her. Then she stopped.

  “Please don’t kill me,” she said again.

  He felt the power around him suddenly increase. Far more than her glamour, or Mario’s, or both combined.

  There was what he suspected was a vampire across the room, looking at him, and smiling. He was tall and handsome, with long blond hair and a costume from three centuries past: White ruffled shirt, wine colored brocade waistcoat, and a velvet frock coat to match. Long black boots shined.

  Next to him was Morgan, in black jeans and a black button-down shirt, looking a bit more suave than he had at first meeting.

  “It took some small effort for me to get an invitation for me and your messenger, here, Mr. Carlisle,” said the tall blond. “I have others waiting outside. Won’t you be so kind as to invite them in?”

  “Why the hell would I do that?” asked Kent, putting his arm around Angela, who had come to his side. His hand nestled nicely on her waist. It was a pity he couldn’t pay more attention to the sensation.

  The blond smiled. “Because I can’t handle everyone’s memories without a little more help. And I don’t think it’s in your interest or mine for everyone here to remember the things they’ve seen.”

  It was either let them in, or fight him. He’d beaten Mario, but he could tell from the feel of him against his shields that this man was far, far more powerful. Brennan was injured, and he wasn’t a hundred percent either. “Me and my friends keep our memories.”

  “Wh
o counts as a friend?”

  He hesitated. Singling them out might not be the best way to protect them.

  The blond man walked towards him. “The wolf, of course. And the girl you have your arm around. But no one else.”

  Did he really have the right to let Charles and Genna lose their memories of the meeting? But Charles was standing near him now, and said, softly. “Kent. It’s all right.”

  He glanced over at Genna, trying not to be obvious, and she, too, nodded.

  Kent turned back to the vampire. “Very well.” The vampire didn’t really need his consent, anyway.

  “You have to say more than that, Mr. Carlisle.”

  “I invite your vampires in. Who the hell are you, anyway?”

  “I go by the name of Pemberton, and that is sufficient for you.” He didn’t seem to have to make any signal. Vampires started coming in, as well as the people who had tried to run out the doors. Pemberton had the place sealed off, it seemed. He was planning to clean up regardless of how the fight turned out.

  “Morgan, do take charge of Doreen. We’ll see to her fate later. Why don’t the two of you take care of the bodies?”

  Morgan and Doreen picked up what was left of Peter and Mario, and dragged them toward the exit.

  “One more thing,” said Angela. He blinked, thinking she was talking to him, but she was talking to Pemberton.

  Pemberton laughed. “What is it, little one?”

  “Morgan. He’s been using his glamour on two of my friends.”

  “Really. Why Morgan, I’m shocked.”

  Right. Like vampires could feed without enchanting people. At least Pemberton seems to find that amusing.

  “It has to stop,” insisted Angela.

  He wasn’t the only one who would fight to protect his friends. The little sub had as much courage and tenacity as he did. Then again, he should have known that when she insisted on coming along.