Lara Adrian

by Veil of Midnight (lit)

  When Alexei glanced up again, there was a hard glint in his dark eyes. “Maybe we should kill him.”

  One of the other guards chuckled, but Renata knew that Lex wasn’t joking. “Sergei said to bring him in.”

  Alexei scoffed. “And give his enemies another chance to take his head?”

  “We don’t know that this man had anything to do with the attack.”

  “Can we be certain he didn’t?” Alexei turned to stare unblinkingly at Renata. “From now on, I trust no one. I would think you’d be as unlikely to risk his safety as I am.”

  “I follow orders,” she replied. “Sergei said to find whoever was in town asking about him and bring him in for questioning. That’s what I intend to do.”

  Lex’s eyes narrowed under the severe brown slashes of his brows. “Fine,” he said, his voice too calm, too level. “You’re right, Renata. We have our orders. We’ll bring him in, like you say. But what are we going to do while we wait out here for pickup?”

  Renata stared at him, wondering where he was heading now. Lex strolled around to the side of the unconscious Breed male and gave an experimental jab of his boot into the unprotected ribs. There was no reaction at all. Only the soft rise and fall of the male’s chest as he breathed.

  Alexei peeled his lips back and grinned, jerking his chin toward the other men. “My boots are dirty. Maybe this useless baggage will clean them off while we wait, ah?”

  At the encouraging chortles of his companions, Lex lifted one of his feet and let it hover over the unresponsive face of their captive.

  “Lex—” Renata began, knowing he would ignore her if she tried to persuade him to stop. But it was at that precise moment that she noticed something strange about the blond male lying on the ground. His breathing was steady and shallow, his limbs unmoving, but his face…he was holding himself too still, even if he truly was unconscious. He wasn’t.

  In a split second of clarity, Renata realized without a shred of doubt that he was very much awake. Very much aware of everything that was happening.

  Oh, Christ.

  Alexei chuckled now, lowering his leg as he started to bring the thick sole of his boot down onto the man’s face.

  “Lex, wait! He’s not—”

  Nothing she could have said would have changed the resulting explosion of chaos.

  Lex was still in motion as the man brought his hands up and caught him at the ankle. He clamped down and twisted hard, sending Lex flying off him and howling in agony on the ground nearby. Not a second passed before the man rolled up onto his feet, fluid and strong, like nothing Renata had ever seen in a fighter before.

  And holy shit—he had Lex’s pistol.

  Renata dropped the cumbersome duffel and grappled for her own gun, a .45 concealed in a holster at her back. Her fingers were still sluggish from her earlier mental exertion, and one of the other guards responded before she could free her weapon. He squeezed off a hasty round, missing his target by half a foot.

  And faster than any of them could track him, the former captive returned fire, putting a bullet squarely in the front of the guard’s skull. One of Sergei Yakut’s hand-picked, longest-serving bodyguards went down on the pavement in a lifeless heap.

  Oh, Jesus, Renata thought in mounting worry as the situation rapidly headed south. Could Alexei have been right? Was this Breed male the same assassin who had tried to strike here before?

  “Who’s next?” he asked, one foot planted on the center of Lex’s spine while he coolly swung the pistol from the other two guards to Renata. “What, no takers now?”

  “Kill this son of a bitch!” Lex roared, writhing like a trapped bug under the heavy heel that held him down. His cheek mashed against the pavement, fangs emerging in his rage, Lex threw a slivered glare at Renata and his men. “Blow his head off, goddamn it!”

  Before the command was totally out of Alexei’s mouth, he was yanked up onto his feet. He screamed as his weight shifted to his injured ankle, but it was the sudden presence of his own pistol nuzzled behind his ear that really made his amber eyes go wild with panic. His captor, on the other hand, was as calm and steady as could be.

  Oh, sweet Mother Mary.

  Just who the hell were they dealing with?

  “You heard him,” Lex’s captor said. His voice was low and unrushed, his gaze piercing even in the dark. He stared straight at Renata. “Bring it on, if any of you are man enough. Then again, if you’d rather not see his brain splattered all over this building wall, then I suggest you drop your weapons. Down on the pavement, nice and easy.”

  Beside her in the alley, Renata registered the low grunts and snuffles of transformed Breed males. Individually, any one of the vampires was physically far stronger than she was; as a pair, they might be stronger than Lex’s attacker, although neither of them seemed willing to find out. A soft clack of metal sounded as a weapon was placed carefully on the asphalt. That left only one guard on backup with her. A second later, he surrendered his gun too. Both vampires retreated a couple of slow paces, surrendering in wary silence.

  And now Renata stood alone against this unexpected threat.

  He gave her a half smile in acknowledgment, baring his teeth and the tips of his emerging fangs. He was angry; those lengthening canines were evidence of that. As was the amber light that was beginning to fill his eyes as they too began to transform with his Breed features. His smile broadened, twin dimples appearing beneath his razor-sharp cheekbones. “Looks like it’s down to you and me, sweetheart. I’m not going to ask any more politely the longer you make me wait. Put your fucking gun down or I’ll waste him.”

  Renata quickly considered her options—what few she had at the moment. Her body was still as raw as an exposed nerve, the aftershocks of her mental exertion still battering her, beating her down. She could attempt another assault on his mind, but she knew she was operating on fumes. Even if she hit him with all she had, she wouldn’t be able to take him down again, and once she was spent to that degree, she would be of no use to anyone.

  Her only other option was an equally large risk. Ordinarily she was a crack shot, reflex fast and sniper accurate, but she couldn’t count on either skill when it would take a great deal of her focus just to command her limbs and fingers to work. No matter what she did, right now it seemed pretty slim odds that Alexei might come out of this in one piece. Hell, the chances of her or anyone else walking away from this situation were looking nil.

  This Breed male was holding all the cards, and the look in his eyes as he watched, waited for her to decide her fate, seemed to say that he was very comfortable in his power position. He had Renata, Lex, and the rest of them right where he wanted them.

  But she’d be damned if she’d go down without a fight.

  Renata inhaled to gather her resolve, then she brought her gun around and leveled it on him. Her arms screamed with the effort it took to hold them out and steady, but she sucked up the pain, pushed it aside.

  She flipped off the gun’s safety. “Release him. Now.”

  The muzzle of Lex’s weapon remained jammed up tight behind his ear. “You don’t actually think we’re negotiating here, do you? Drop. Your. Weapon.”

  Renata had a clean shot, but so did he. And he had the added benefit of superhuman speed. He might be able to dodge her bullet since he’d easily see it coming. There was a fraction of a second delay between chambering rounds, even at her best time. That meant ample opportunity for him to open fire as well, whether he chose to shoot Lex first or after he took her out. In another second, they might all be eating lead. This man was Breed; with his accelerated metabolism and healing power, he stood a decent chance of surviving getting shot, but her? She was staring at certain death.

  “You got a problem with me specifically, or is it him you really want to see dead tonight? Maybe you just hate anything with a dick. That it?”

  Although he kept his aim locked, his tone was light, as if he were only toying with her. Not taking her seriously at all. The ar
rogant prick. She didn’t answer, just cocked the pistol’s hammer back and rested her index finger lightly on the trigger.

  “Let him go. We don’t want any trouble from you.”

  “Too late for that, don’t you think? All you’re looking at is trouble now.”

  Renata didn’t flinch. She didn’t dare so much as blink for fear that this man would sense it as weakness and decide to act.

  Lex was shaking now, sweat pouring down his face. “Renata,” he gasped, but whether he wanted to tell her to stand down or make her best move, she wasn’t sure. “Renata…for fuck’s sake…”

  She kept a steady aim on Alexei’s captor, her elbows locked, both hands gripped on her gun. A light summer breeze kicked up, and the soft gust of air raked over her hypersensitive skin like jagged shards of glass. In the distance she could hear the pop of fireworks from the finale of the weekend’s festival, the muted explosions vibrating like thunder in her aching bones. Traffic buzzed and braked on the street outside the alley, vehicle engines throwing off a sickening melange of exhaust fumes, heated rubber, and burning oil.

  “How long do you want to drag this out, sweetheart? Because I gotta tell you, patience isn’t one of my virtues.” His tone was casual, but the threat couldn’t have been more dire. He brought the pistol’s hammer back, prepared to bring the night to its bloody end. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t fill this asshole’s brain with lead.”

  “Because he is my son.” The low male voice came from halfway up the darkened alley. The words were devoid of emotion but ominous in their cadence and thickly accented with the cold rasp of Sergei Yakut’s Siberian homeland.

  CHAPTER

  Three

  Nikolai swung his head around and watched Sergei Yakut approach in the narrow alleyway. The Gen One vampire strode ahead of two anxious-looking bodyguards, his stark, unblinking gaze moving casually from Niko to the Breed male still being held at gunpoint. With a nod of acknowledgment, Niko clicked the pistol’s safety back into place and slowly lowered the weapon. As soon as he loosened his grasp, Yakut’s son threw him off with a growled curse and moved himself well out of reach.

  “Insolent bastard,” he snarled, all venom and fury now that he was standing some safe distance away. “I told Renata this cur was a threat, but she wouldn’t listen. Let me kill him for you, Father. Let me give him pain.”

  Yakut ignored both his son’s plea and his presence, instead striding in silence up to where Nikolai stood waiting.

  “Sergei Yakut,” Niko said, turning the disarmed gun around and offering it to him in a gesture of peace. “Hell of a welcome wagon you’ve got here. My apologies for taking one of your men. He left me no choice.”

  Yakut merely grunted as he took the pistol and handed it off to the guard standing nearest to him. Dressed in a cotton gauze tunic and worn leather pants that looked more like weathered hide, his light brown hair and beard wild and overgrown, Sergei Yakut had the look of a shrewd feudal warlord, centuries out of his time.

  Then again, despite his unlined face and tall, muscular build, which aged him in the vicinity of his early forties at most, only the Breed male’s thick pattern of swirling, inter-locking dermaglyphs tracking down his bared forearms gave any indication that Yakut was an elder member of the Breed. As a Gen One, he could be a thousand years old or more.

  “Warrior,” Yakut said darkly, his stare unwavering, twin lasers locked on target. “I told you not to come. You and the rest of the Order are wasting your time.”

  In his peripheral vision, Niko caught the exchanged looks of surprise that traveled between Yakut’s son and the rest of his guards. The female especially—Renata, she was called—seemed completely taken aback to hear that he was a warrior, one of the Order. Yet as quickly as the surprise registered in her gaze, it vanished, gone as though she had forced all emotion from her features. She was placid calm now, cold even, as she stood a few feet behind Sergei Yakut and watched, her weapon still in hand, her stance tentative and ready for his any command.

  “We need your help,” Nikolai said to Yakut. “And based on what’s been going down near us in Boston and elsewhere within the Breed population, you’re going to need our help too. The danger is very real. It’s lethal. Your life is at risk, even now.”

  “What would you know about that?” Yakut’s son scowled at Niko in accusation. “How the fuck can you know anything about that? We’ve told no one about the attack last week—”

  “Alexei.” The sound of his name on his sire’s lips shut the younger Yakut up as if a hand had been clamped over his mouth. “You do not speak for me, boy. Make yourself useful,” he said, gesturing toward the vampire Nikolai had shot dead. “Take Urien up to the warehouse roof and leave him there for the sun. Then sweep this alleyway clean of evidence.”

  Alexei glared for a second, as if the task were beneath him but he didn’t quite have the guts to say so. “You heard my father,” he snapped to the other guards standing around idle with him. “What are you all waiting for? Let’s get rid of this worthless pile of rubbish.”

  When they started to move off at Alexei’s bidding, Yakut glanced toward the female. “Not you, Renata. You can drive me back to the house. I am finished here.”

  The message to Niko was clear: He was uninvited, unwelcome to stay in Yakut’s domain. And, as of now, summarily dismissed.

  Probably the smartest thing to do would be to check in with Lucan and the rest of the Order, tell them that he had given it his best shot with Sergei Yakut but came up empty, then leave Montreal before Yakut decided to hand him his balls on his way out. The short-tempered Gen One had done worse to others for far lesser sins.

  Yeah, packing it in and heading out was definitely the wisest course of action at this point. Except Nikolai wasn’t accustomed to taking no for an answer, and the situation facing both the Order and the whole of the Breed—hell, humankind as well—was not going away anytime soon. It was growing more volatile, more distastrous with every passing second.

  And then there was Alexei’s careless blurt about a recent attack…

  “What happened here last week?” Nikolai asked, once it was just Yakut, Renata, and himself in the dark alley. He knew the answer but posed the question anyway. “Someone tried to assassinate you…just as I warned would happen, isn’t that right?”

  The aged Breed male swung a glower on Niko, his shrewd eyes flinty. Niko held that challenging stare, seeing a long-lived, arrogant fool who believed himself beyond the reach of death, even though it had likely been knocking on his door only a few days ago.

  “There was an attempt, yes.” Yakut’s lip curled in a mild sneer, one thick shoulder lifting in a shrug. “But I survived—just as I assured you I would. Go home, warrior. Fight the Order’s battles back in Boston. Leave me to look after my own.”

  He jerked his chin at Renata, and the wordless command put her in motion. As her long legs carried her out of earshot up the alleyway, Yakut drawled, “My thanks for the warning. If this assassin is idiot enough to strike again, I will be ready for him.”

  “He will strike again,” Niko replied with total certainty. “This thing is worse than we first suspected. Two more Gen Ones have been killed since you and I last spoke. That brings the count to five now—out of less than twenty of your generation still in existence. Five of the oldest, most powerful members of the Breed nation, all dead in the space of a month. Each one apparently targeted and taken out by expert means. Someone wants all of you dead, and he has a plan already in play to make it happen.”

  Yakut seemed to consider that, but only for a moment. Without another word, he pivoted and began stalking away.

  “There is more,” Niko added grimly. “Something I wasn’t able to tell you when we spoke on the phone a couple of weeks ago. Something the Order discovered hidden in a mountain cave in the Czech Republic.”

  As the elder vampire continued to ignore him, Niko exhaled a low curse.

  “It was a hibernation chamber, a very old on
e. A crypt where one of the most powerful of our kind had been tucked away in secret for centuries. The chamber had been made to protect an Ancient.”

  Finally Niko had his attention.

  Yakut’s steps slowed, then stopped altogether. “The Ancients were all killed in the great war within the Breed,” he said, reciting the history that had until very recently been accepted by all the Breed as irrefutable fact.

  Nikolai knew the story of the uprising as well as anyone else of his kind. Of the eight savage otherworlders who had fathered the first generation of the vampire race on Earth, none survived the battle with the small group of Gen One warriors who’d declared war against their own fathers for the protection of both Breed and humankind alike. Those courageous few warriors had been led by Lucan, who to this day retained his role as leader of what was to become the Order.

  Yakut slowly turned to face Nikolai. “All of the Ancients have been dead for some seven hundred years. My own sire was put to the sword back then—and rightly so. If he and his alien brethren had been left unchecked, they would have destroyed all life on this planet in their insatiable Bloodlust.”

  Niko nodded grimly. “But there was someone who disagreed with the edict that the Ancients should be destroyed: Dragos. The Order has uncovered proof that instead of taking out the creature who fathered him, Dragos instead helped to hide him. He made a sanctuary for the creature in a remote area of the Bohemian Mountains.”

  “And the Order knows this to be true?”

  “We found the chamber and saw the crypt for ourselves. Unfortunately, it was empty by the time we got there.”

  Yakut grunted, considering. “And what about Dragos?”

  “He is dead—killed in the old war—but his line lives on. So does his treachery. We believe it was Dragos’s son who located the chamber before we did and freed the Ancient from his sleep. We also suspect Dragos’s son is the one behind the recent assassinations among the nation’s Gen Ones.”