Vincent (Vampires in America Book 8)

by D. B. Reynolds

  There were more important uses for his time and energy, including, it seemed, doing a favor for Raphael. He didn’t know if he should be wary or exhilarated by that development.

  The compound where Vincent and the other Hermosillo vamps lived was a square that covered the equivalent of two city blocks. Vincent’s office was in a building on the opposite side of the property from where he lived. It sat outside the main perimeter wall and was the only structure, other than the adjacent night club, with a public entrance. Since nothing of value was kept there, apart from a few pieces of office equipment, its only real security was video surveillance of both the parking lot and the lobby entrance. However, it was still locked down at sunrise, along with the rest of the compound. If a human wanted to pay a visit, they came after sunset, or not at all.

  Lou—whose name was actually Louisa—was Vincent’s human secretary. She arrived around noon and worked in a small office inside the main compound until Vincent rose for the night. Then she took up her position at the reception desk outside his office.

  As usual, there was a lot of activity in the area as Vincent made his way through the gardens to his office building. Hermosillo had a substantial vampire population attracted by the more than 700,000 humans who lived there. And, since vampires tended to live in groups, many of them lived right here in this sprawling compound. Vincent could hear voices from elsewhere in the compound as he walked, but he didn’t see anyone. This part of the estate was heavily landscaped, as if to deny the encroaching desert outside the walls. It was thick with palms and other tropical plants, fragrant with the scent of their flowers. It took an army of gardeners to maintain the landscaping, and a water well that had been dug solely for that purpose. It wasn’t very ecologically sound, but Vincent enjoyed the results too much to protest.

  He nodded at the two vamps guarding the exit gate as he passed through the perimeter wall and into the public part of the compound. No palms graced the concrete walks here. The grounds were well maintained, but, in keeping with the desert environment, they were landscaped with low-lying cacti and stone. Twenty strides took Vincent to the building that was his office. It was an unassuming structure, with nothing to indicate that it was occupied by one of the most powerful vampires in the territory. He took the three stairs to the heavy, iron-banded back door, entered the appropriate code on a locking keypad, and pushed inside, immediately feeling the temperature drop several degrees. Even in summer, the building’s thick stone walls blocked the burning Sonoran desert temps. Vincent’s boots clomped loudly on the tiled floor and he could hear voices coming from his office. But none belonged to his visitor, though. Not yet.

  He entered his private office from the rear, walking past his desk and out a second door to the small lobby where Michael and Lou were waiting for him.

  “Good evening, Louisa,” he crooned, smiling when his greeting elicited a blush and a duck of her head, even though she’d been working for him for more than ten years, and was old enough to be his mother, if one judged solely by appearances, that was.

  “Good evening, Vincent,” she responded briskly. It had taken him years to get her to call him by his first name. “You have an appointment,” she informed him.

  “So I understand. Ten o’clock?”

  “Yes, sir. Your other messages are on your desk.”

  “Got it. Michael, join me. Louisa, mi amor, hold my calls, would you?”

  She blushed again at the endearment, but nodded sharply and said, “Yes, sir.”

  Vincent grinned, then threw a come along gesture at Michael to follow as he ducked back into his office. He strolled over and sat behind his desk, a beautiful monstrosity of black walnut, waiting until the door was closed before giving his lieutenant a questioning look.

  Michael didn’t waste any time. “I’m getting a lot of reports, both human and vampire, that just over a week ago, a pair of vamps were spotted driving hellbent from the North, stopping only long enough to sleep and drain a few unwilling donors on their way to Mexico City.”

  Vincent had made Michael a vampire for a variety of reasons, but he’d proven to be an inspired choice. As a vampire, his power was second only to Vincent’s, and as a lieutenant, he was a positive genius at cultivating sources and gathering data. He’d embraced the information age with a vengeance and knew everything there was to know about computer networks and, frankly, how to pry into places that tried to keep him out.

  “Driving,” Vincent repeated, thinking about this latest development. “Any positive IDs?”

  “Two females, that’s all we know for sure. For the record, however, I’ve got another source who claims that one of the vampires at the showdown in Acuña was Raphael’s sister.”

  Vincent’s eyes widened in surprise. “The sister no one’s seen in months? What’s her name . . . Alexandra? Everyone thought she was dead.”

  “That was my understanding, too. But what if she’s not? And if she was in Acuña, simple odds say that she was probably one of the females who made a beeline for Mexico City and Enrique right after.”

  Vincent swore softly. “What is that bastard up to?” he muttered.

  Michael nodded. “I’m trying to verify the sister’s ID, or at least find someone who knows if she’s alive or dead. But you know Raphael’s people. They’re loyal to a fault, and damn if his network security isn’t impossible to break through. I can’t get word one from anyone who’d know about the sister’s status. The guy who claims she was in Acuña is a cop whose wife overheard a conversation outside the hotel where the European vamps were staying. She also claims the vamp calling herself Alexandra was with the Europeans.”

  “Alexandra arrived with the Europeans? How’d that come about?”

  “Don’t know, but I do know that she didn’t cross into Mexico with Raphael. And she didn’t return to the U.S. with him either. I have video from the border crossing in both directions. There were only five people traveling with Raphael, and the only woman was his mate.”

  Vincent thought about what that might mean and realized he didn’t have a fucking clue. “Are the two females who raced to Mexico City still there?”

  Michael shook his head. “Doubtful. A private plane departed Benito Juarez airport with a flight plan for Paris. There was one passenger, a female who arrived via limo from Enrique’s HQ. My guess is that passenger was one of our travelers.”

  “What about the other one?”

  “Unknown.”

  “Shit. I don’t want to go to Mexico City.”

  “Have you ever seen the sister? Does anyone know what she looks like?”

  “I saw her across the room at a party once after a council meeting in Malibu.”

  “Is the sister like a female version of Raphael?”

  “That would make her one very big woman, Mikey.” Vincent snorted. “No, Alexandra’s a tiny thing, especially by today’s standards. No more than five feet tall without shoes. She’s got black hair, like he does, but that’s all I could make out. I don’t think I’d recognize her on the street, but I might be able to pick her out from a photo. I’m guessing you have a shot of the female vamp who caught that flight?”

  Michael thumbed through his cell phone and held it out. “It’s grainy because of the distance.”

  Vincent took the phone and frowned down at the image. It had obviously taxed someone’s zoom lens to the max, but . . . “That’s not the sister,” he said. “Hair color can be changed, but the body isn’t right. This woman’s too big. And the look’s all wrong. It’s not Alexandra.”

  “So Raphael’s sister is either dead or in Mexico City. What the fuck, jefe?”

  “I wish I knew.” Vincent pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger, wondering if he should call Enrique and ask what was going on. On one hand, if there was a plot afoot that involved Raphael’s sister, Enrique should be told.
On the other, if Enrique was part of the plot . . . well, fuck. There was nothing in the lieutenant’s manual that said Vincent had to follow his lord as far as suicide.

  “Is there someone in the South we can tap for information?” he asked Michael. “If Raphael was in Texas, Anthony or one of his people must have known about it.”

  Vincent’s working relationships with vampires in the South were far better and more extensive than those in Raphael’s territory in the far west. This was because the southern territory shared a huge border with Mexico, with a lot of traffic back and forth, both legal and not-so-legal. Vampires didn’t involve themselves in human affairs, but that didn’t mean they were immune to the violence and social disruption that sometimes occurred. The U.S./Mexico border had been very uneasy of late; uneasy enough that Vincent and his counterparts in the South had consulted with each other often.

  “I’ll reach out,” Michael said. “In the meantime—” He broke off when a scream sounded on the far side of the compound, from the direction of the public nightclub, which was also a blood house. Almost on top of the scream, all three phones started ringing—Vincent’s cell, Michael’s cell, and the office phone. Vincent was still holding Michael’s phone, so he hit Answer.

  “We got trouble, Mike,” a male voice said. “We need Vincent—”

  “You got him,” Vincent snapped as he and Michael headed out of the office at a run. “Be there in two.”

  The nightclub was down the block from Vincent’s office, and it was designed to be the very opposite of subtle. Music pounded from inside, so loud that not even the best soundproofing could contain it. The heavy bass sounded like the heartbeat of some slumbering leviathan lying within the building. Four nights a week—Thursday through Sunday—a long line of humans showed up ready and eager to be blood donors, and sexual partners. The two went together. It was evolution’s way of making sure vampires got what they needed to survive. They were the perfect predator.

  The line started at the bouncer’s station at the front door and trailed well past the twenty feet of velvet rope to wind around the side of the building to the parking lot. If the vampires had wanted, they probably could have generated the same crowds every night of the week, but those living in the compound needed a break from the teeming humanity in the city all around them. Or, at least, Vincent did. He liked humans well enough. They sustained him in more ways than one. But they were noisy and always seemed to want something from him, which was odd when you considered that he was the one feeding from them.

  He’d made it clear when he took over the Hermosillo compound that the club would be closed three nights a week, and no one had objected. At least not within his hearing.

  When he and Michael raced up to the entrance, he noticed that the club was crowded as usual. What wasn’t usual were the screams emanating from inside and the humans trying to shove their way out through the single open door. Or for that matter, the roars of angry vampires coming from inside.

  Fuck. This wasn’t good on so many fronts. Good thing I wore black jeans tonight, Vincent thought. They didn’t show the blood as well.

  “My lord!” the bouncer shouted when he caught sight of Vincent. He was struggling to maintain some sort of order among the fleeing humans, trying to keep them from trampling each other as they fled the club. “What can I do?”

  “Stay on the door,” Vincent growled. “And get rid of them,” he added, pointing at the line of club goers still waiting their turn to get in. They were craning their necks and gawking at the screaming and frenzied humanity rushing out of the club, yet none of them appeared ready to surrender their place in the queue. If anything, they seemed more excited than ever at the prospect of getting inside.

  “The club is shut down for the night,” Vincent ordered, then spun around as the humans closest to the door overheard and groaned a loud protest. Almost as one, they backed away from his cold stare, their eyes wide, their little, mortal hearts going pitty pat with fear. Except for one pretty little blonde whose wide eyes were filled with an entirely different emotion. Vincent wanted to roll his own eyes in disgust. Humans. Some of them had no sense of survival at all. It was amazing the species had flourished as well as it had.

  But he didn’t have time for a lesson in survival, or even a horny blonde.

  He yanked open the second of the double doors, shattering the bolt holding it closed. A few humans immediately tried to use the new wider escape route, but after getting a fang-baring snarl from him, they shied away, clearly deciding that he was a greater threat than whatever they were running from.

  Vincent strode into the club and stopped. The thumping bass of the music was so deep, it made his teeth ache. His vampire-enhanced vision could see well enough despite the intentionally dim lighting. Shadows were cultivated in here to give the illusion of privacy. Sex was pretty much always the result when a vamp took blood from the vein, and in the sexual rush triggered by the vamp’s bite, no one worried overmuch about where they were or who might be watching. Unbridled sex, whether in the corners or right out on the dance floor, was pretty much the norm.

  But that’s not what was happening out there right now. Five big vampires dominated the center of the dance floor, their fangs bare and gleaming, their shoulders hunched and fingers curled in a blatant display of aggression from all sides. Three human females were huddled against the bar, trapped there by the angry vamps in front of them. One of the females was bleeding profusely from a neck bite that someone hadn’t bothered to seal off properly. Or more likely, given the mood of the five vamps, the biter had been interrupted before he could finish.

  There were other vampires still in the club, too. They were gathered in the shadows around the dance floor, some protecting clumps of humans, others positioned to block the door, smart enough to know that they couldn’t let the combatants spill outside. It was one thing for a crowd of panicked humans to fill the street; it was another thing entirely for a bloody vampire battle to do so.

  Vincent saw all of this with a glance and took a split second to consider his options. He was powerful enough to shut down all five combatants without lifting a finger. He could be subtle and simply drop them unconscious. Or if he wanted to be showy, a blast of power would reduce them to so much meat writhing on the floor. On the other hand, it had been a very long time since he’d been allowed to indulge his less civilized side.

  “This one’s mine, Mikey,” he muttered, feeling a grin of anticipation split his face. He loved a good brawl.

  “Ah fuck, jefe. You get all the fun.”

  Vincent stormed in, his fingers sinking into the shoulder of the first vampire he encountered. The vamp was too deep in his own rage to realize who had grabbed him and spun with an enraged snarl. But Vincent was waiting for him. With an uppercut to the jaw, the vamp flew through the air before collapsing like a broken puppet against the far wall. At the same time, the guy’s allies realized there was a new player on the field and roared their displeasure. Howling a joyous battle cry of his own, Vincent waded in, his fists pounding, blood flying. He grabbed one vampire by the throat, his fingers digging in so deeply that blood spilled out of the vamp’s mouth and ran down his neck before his eyes abruptly focused on Vincent in recognition.

  “Mercy, my lord,” he choked out, and Vincent tossed him aside. He had no interest in killing anyone tonight.

  A massive blow slammed into his back, hard enough that he staggered a half step. With a furious yowl, he shifted his weight to one foot and spun, kicking out with the opposing foot, recognizing his assailant as the first vamp he’d grabbed, even as he sent him sailing across the floor to crash into the bar.

  The smell of spilled liquor rose up in an overwhelming cloud as the three women who’d been huddled nearby shrieked and scurried for cover, clutching each other beneath a rainfall of shattering glass. The vampire himself was so berserk with battle lust by then that
he jumped to his feet almost immediately and charged back into the fray as Vincent was grabbed from behind by a third vamp. A powerful arm circled his throat, crushing his esophagus and pulling his head back hard just as the charging vamp shoulder-butted him in the gut, nearly snapping his spine in two.

  “Son of a bitch,” Vincent swore. It was one thing to enjoy a good brawl, it was another to be crushed between a couple of brainless behemoths. He reached for his power and slammed it into the gut-butting berserker, sending him sliding across the floor to smash into the bar once again. But this time, the guy stayed there, slumped in a puddle of liquor and glass, his chin on his chest, hands lying limply by his sides.

  Reaching behind him with both hands, Vincent grabbed the fucker who was trying to grind his neck into dust. The vamp shrieked in pain as Vincent’s fingers dug into muscle and bone. He bent his knees and flipped the vamp over his head and onto the floor where he stomped the breath out of the idiot’s chest, then kicked him across the dance floor to join his buddy in the wreckage of the bar.

  “You’re paying for that fucking bar,” he roared at the two of them, then turned on the two remaining combatants with a wild howl. They took in the copper gleam of his eyes and the blood of their compatriots dripping from his curled fingers. Recognition sank in, dousing their battle rage like a bucket of ice water, and they dropped to their knees.

  “My lord,” one of them muttered. “We didn’t know it was you.”

  Vincent raked his gaze over the crowd of vampires still lingering in the shadows. “Get those humans out of here,” he commanded. They leapt to obey as Michael crossed the floor to hustle away the three women near the bar, who’d apparently been at the center of the dispute. Within moments, the doors were closed, with only vampires remaining in the nearly-silent club. Even the music had been turned off.