Lana shoved Vincent aside, and not gently. But he noted that she wisely maintained her distance from Xuan even as she addressed him. “I’m Lana Arnold,” she said. “We’re here because a client of mine asked that I deliver this to you.”
She held out the envelope with Raphael’s message in it, but Xuan didn’t take it right away.
“Who is your client?” he asked cautiously.
Lana would have answered, but Vincent beat her to it. He wanted to see the vamp’s reaction. “Raphael.”
Xuan’s eyes closed, and he nodded to himself, as if accepting something he’d known would happen, but at the same time had dreaded . . . or feared. He held out his hand.
“May I?” he asked.
Lana glanced at Vincent, then took a necessary step forward and handed over Raphael’s message.
The vampire held the envelope in his hands, turning it over and around, studying his name written in Raphael’s flowing script.
“Do you know what the message says?” he asked Lana, but his attention was on Vincent.
“No,” Lana answered for both of them.
Xuan nodded. “You should come inside. I suspect I have a story to tell.”
LANA WAITED TO see what Vincent would do. She hadn’t liked it when he’d stepped between her and Xuan, as if she was incapable of protecting herself. But she suspected Vincent knew that and had done it anyway. So, okay, she wasn’t stupid enough to let her pride get her killed, and Vincent understood this situation far better than she did. But he’d been surprised too, maybe even a little shaken, by Xuan’s appearance. Still, there had to be more to it. Vincent had been uneasy even before they got here.
Did that mean that Xuan was more powerful than Vincent expected? Did he have some talent that could reach out and touch someone . . . and not in a good way? Was that what Vincent had been feeling as they’d drawn closer?
She couldn’t ask Vincent any of these questions without giving away her ignorance, and maybe Vincent’s too, so she waited to see what he’d do.
Vincent studied Xuan for a moment, and, while she couldn’t see anything, she was pretty sure there was some sort of vampire dick-measuring going on, with Vincent demonstrating to Xuan just how much power he could bring to the table.
Xuan didn’t seem prepared to fight, though. He simply bowed a little from the waist and stepped back from his door, as if to invite them inside.
“We’ll talk,” Vincent agreed, then reached out and put his arm in front of Lana, curving his big hand over her hip, pulling her slightly behind him. “But don’t touch her.”
Xuan straightened and tilted his head in a smiling acceptance. “Of course not. Will you join me for coffee? I confess a lingering fondness for it, despite our . . . dietary requirements.”
Vincent waited until Xuan’s back was turned to pull her against his side and murmur, “You can be mad at me later, but please follow my lead in this. Don’t let him touch you.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“I know that,” he said, tightening his grip into a hug and placing a soft kiss against her temple.
Lana’s heart wiggled happily and she told it to behave. This was just Vincent being Vincent. He was a naturally protective alpha male. Nothing more.
She followed Vincent into the small house as Xuan went around the room, turning on lights. She suspected that was for her benefit, just as she knew Vincent had left the Suburban’s parking lights on for the same reason. Which reminded her . . .
“The SUV lights?” she said to Vincent.
He gave her a puzzled look, then leaned back and glared at the SUV. The lights blinked out almost instantly.
“Handy trick,” she muttered.
“Don’t be a hater,” he muttered right back at her.
“Please, sit,” Xuan said, gesturing at a short couch and single chair that sat in front of the fireplace.
The room was small enough that the furniture took up half of the available space. The other half was a minimal kitchen, with a sink and refrigerator built into a set of cabinets. There was a basic wooden table with two chairs and against the other wall sat an old-fashioned chifforobe that looked like it had seen some years. Judging by the closed doors at the other end of the house, she suspected there was a bedroom and bathroom. She frowned, thinking he must have a septic tank system and a generator, too. Xuan might live like a hermit, but he’d embraced the conveniences of modern technology.
Lana sat on the couch, leaving room for Vincent on the side closest to the lone chair where presumably Xuan would sit. “You must have a generator,” she commented to Xuan as he handed her a cup of coffee in a thick ceramic mug.
Xuan nodded. “I need the refrigerator for blood, of course. I’m alone most of the time and books are my only company. I don’t need much light, especially since I bought an e-reader on one of my trips into the city for generator fuel. Whenever I go down for fuel now, I fill up my reader. It’s a wonderful invention.”
“I agree,” Lana said, giving the old vamp a genuine smile. He seemed like a nice guy, gentle and . . . a little lonely. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Life and the business she was in had made her cynical enough to consider the possibility that it was all a ploy.
“You don’t look the way he described you,” she said thoughtfully.
“Someone described me?”
Vincent had been prowling the room, but now he joined Lana on the couch, slinging an arm behind her in a blatantly possessive move. Lana wanted to roll her eyes, but she managed not to.
“More than one, actually,” Vincent picked up the conversation. “They said you were a demon, that you had white hair, a white face, and your eyes were red.”
Xuan laughed gently. “Well. My eyes are still red, but that’s not unusual among vampires, as you well know. The white . . . when I first came to Pénjamo, I lived much closer to town. I wanted to be left alone, but the peasants were curious. Fortunately, they were also primitive. I covered myself and my clothes in white wash and wandered the El Cero San Miguel for a few nights. With my eyes going vamp red, I’m sure it was quite frightening. The locals already believed the hill was haunted. I simply added to the legend. They left me alone after that. Eventually, I moved out here and everyone forgot me.” He glanced up at Vincent. “Or nearly everyone. Raphael has a long memory.”
Vincent was silent for a moment, then abruptly said, “Enough. Open the envelope.”
Xuan settled himself in the chair. He had the envelope in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Placing the cup on a side table, he held the envelope in both hands, then turned it over and slid a finger under the sealed flap. It opened easily. He reached in and removed Raphael’s note.
Lana wanted to snatch it out of his fingers and read it. Raphael had wanted Vincent here. Why? The answer was in that note.
She leaned forward impatiently, silently urging Xuan to go faster. Vincent’s arm slid lower on her back and tightened, as if he was worried she was going to leap on the other vampire and rip the note out of his hands. She could feel the tension in Vincent’s arm and knew he was as anxious as she was.
Xuan’s mouth tightened briefly as he read, then he looked up and met Vincent’s gaze, his own eyes bright with tears.
What the hell was that about?
Xuan handed the note to Lana. She resisted the urge to grab it, taking it slowly from his hand, then turning so that Vincent could read with her.
It was one line, written in the same script as Xuan’s name on the envelope. And it said . . .
It’s time to tell the story.
Chapter Twenty
Texas, 1876
XUAN IGNACIO STOOD in the darkness, shielding his eyes against the bright flames of the campfire. It was a big fire, much bigger than the two young men needed. Surrounded by the pitch black
of a desert night, it probably made them feel safe. Unfortunately, it did the opposite.
“The fools might as well paint targets on their backs,” Enrique commented disdainfully. But then, Enrique didn’t understand that the fire brought the young humans comfort as well as light. Enrique had embraced his new vampire existence without a backward look, shedding his humanity like an unwanted shirt.
“We could take them now,” Xuan said. “They don’t need to go through the rest of it.” He wasn’t happy with Enrique’s plan, he never had been. But Enrique was powerful, a vampire destined to lead others while Xuan . . . Xuan mostly wanted to be left alone. But Enrique wouldn’t let him. He’d grown weary of wandering the countryside and terrorizing peasants. He wanted to carve out a territory of his own and settle down. He needed soldiers to do that, so he’d set the two of them on a campaign to create loyal followers. It was simple, really. They’d located a pack of thieves and murderers and then followed them around, “saving” their victims from certain death.
But not until they were on the very precipice of that death first.
The first angry shouts broke the deceptive serenity of the night as the outlaws attacked the two young men, firing wildly, their shots missing more than they hit. The two travelers reached for their own weapons, but far too slowly. They’d been foolish, naïve, to think that there were no dangers in the darkness. Foolish not to recognize that their fine horses and gear would attract the worst of those who roamed the desert looking to rob the unwary.
The taller human reached his revolver first and managed to get off a few good shots, killing one of the thieves and mildly wounding another. But it wasn’t nearly enough. It was only minutes before both young men were on the ground, mortally wounded, their lives bleeding into the dirt. The thieves kicked their limp bodies aside and took what they wanted. They didn’t bother to kill the young men, assuming the desert would do that for them. And they certainly had no interest in easing their suffering.
Xuan glanced over and caught the gleam of Enrique’s grin in the moonlight, his fangs fully distended as he watched the mayhem.
“I’ll take the farther one,” Enrique told him. “The other’s yours.”
Xuan concealed his surprise. Enrique rarely asked Xuan to sire any of the new vampires. He wanted their loyalty to be uncompromising and only to him. But Xuan didn’t argue. He never argued. He didn’t have the strength to refuse Enrique whatever he wanted. It had always been that way, even though Xuan was much older than Enrique. They were children of the same Sire, a vampire who had no interest in building an empire or even a small kingdom. There was no rhyme or reason to the humans he chose, and he didn’t care what happened once they were turned. When Enrique had come across Xuan Ignacio in his wanderings, he’d latched on, telling Xuan they had a better chance of surviving together than they did alone. The truth was that Enrique didn’t like to be alone. He’d always needed an audience, and now he’d decided he needed an army. Xuan had gone along, because that’s what he did.
Until now.
Xuan had decided he was almost done with Enrique’s plan. Enrique now had plenty of vampires to help build and defend his territory. He no longer needed Xuan. And Xuan had no stomach for the bloodshed that Enrique seemed to revel in.
Turning his attention back to their current hunt, Xuan followed Enrique to the campsite and knelt next to the half-dead human Enrique had chosen for him. The young man was mortally wounded. Xuan took some consolation in that. Without his intervention, the human would surely die this night.
He bent his head to the dying man’s neck and drank deeply. The human’s blood was thick and rich. He was, or had been, strong and healthy, his obvious wealth granting him a life of ease and good nutrition. And Xuan relished the taste of his blood, relished the knowledge that he could drink his fill. What vampire wouldn’t take pleasure in drinking so deeply? More often than not, he was forced to school himself to moderation, whether by Enrique’s dictate or simple survival. He and Enrique both usually took only what they needed to live, leaving their victims alive so as to avoid drawing attention to themselves.
But not anymore. Enrique meant to rule, and moderation was a thing of the past.
When the human was on the very edge of death, when his brown skin was pale and his heart beat so weakly that even a vampire’s enhanced hearing could barely hear it, Xuan sliced open his own wrist and held it above the young man’s mouth, letting the first drops slide onto the human’s tongue and down his throat. And then he waited.
He’d seen Enrique do this enough times. He knew it wouldn’t take long. It never did. And sure enough, the human suddenly swallowed, his tongue working at the unexpected sustenance of Xuan’s blood. A moment later, the man’s chest swelled with the first full breath he’d drawn since Xuan had started, and then a second breath as his heart gained strength, as it began pounding in his chest like a drum.
Wincing in anticipation, Xuan lowered his wrist to the man’s mouth, closing his eyes against the mingled pain and pleasure as the human closed his lips over Xuan’s ravaged wrist, as his still-blunt teeth tore into Xuan’s flesh, digging in to hold him in place as the human drank . . . and drank.
Xuan swayed in a sort of euphoria. He’d never felt this way before, almost as if his own power had been doubled by the taste of the human’s blood. He almost asked Enrique about it, but something made him remain silent. He’d never noticed Enrique reacting this way to the creation of a new vampire, and he didn’t know what it meant. Perhaps it was just him, a weakness that made him vulnerable. And it was always better not to reveal any frailty when Enrique was involved.
“It’s nearly dawn.”
Xuan’s eyes flashed open at the sound of Enrique’s harsh voice. He gently disengaged the human’s teeth from his wrist, brushing dark hair away from the young man’s forehead. He was handsome; both of the brothers were. But it was more than that. There was a hint in their features of the old race, the Mayans, descendants of the same empire that had birthed him and his forefathers as far back as he could count.
Xuan would have liked to keep this one for himself, to be his younger brother, the one he never had. But Enrique would never permit it. He swallowed a sigh and said, “Mine’s ready to travel.”
“Yours?” Enrique scoffed. “There is no yours. They’re both mine. Now, come on, help me get them into the cave.”
They carried the two new vampires into the cooler darkness of a nearby cave. It was the reason they’d chosen this particular location, that particular band of thieves. The exchange of blood was exhausting not only for the new vampires, but for the old as well.
They made it back to the safety of the cave before dawn and with time to spare. The two humans were big men, but Xuan and Enrique had the strength of their Vampire blood to help them. Xuan made the two brothers as comfortable as possible under the primitive conditions, then settled into his own bedroll. Tomorrow night would be a new challenge. Introducing two young vampires to their new lives and their new lord.
XUAN WOKE THE next night to the hated sound of Enrique’s voice. This would be their last night together. He’d fulfilled whatever obligation he had toward the other vampire, but more importantly, he had no desire to be a foot soldier under Enrique’s rule. He knew the kind of lord Enrique would be. He sometimes felt guilty over his role in creating an army to make it possible.
“They’re not doing well,” Enrique informed him, with the strained patience of someone who’d had to repeat himself. “It’s cold in here. Help me get them back to the fire.”
Xuan hefted the nearest vamp onto his shoulder and trudged back to the campsite. Without warning, the fire flared, courtesy of Enrique’s power. Xuan was used to it by now and didn’t react other than to lay his burden down close to the warmth, taking a moment to straighten the new vampire’s limbs, making him more comfortable.
Enrique laid his bu
rden down also, but instead of making the unconscious vampire comfortable, he pulled a knife and nicked the newly-turned vampire’s neck, sliding a finger through the trickle of blood it produced. He brought the finger to his mouth and sucked, tasting.
“Weak,” he pronounced. “And we can’t stay here another night.”
Without warning, he slashed out with his knife, slicing the big artery in the vampire’s throat. Then switching the grip on his knife, he stabbed him in the heart as blood spurted from his neck in a gruesome fountain of red.
Xuan stared, not quite believing what he was seeing. This was a new level of brutality, even for Enrique. The young vampire needed only another’s night’s rest to thrive. They could have given him that. But it hadn’t been the boy’s slow recovery that influenced Enrique’s decision, it was the strength of his blood. Enrique wanted strong warriors, and this young vampire had apparently not suited.
Xuan placed a protective hand on the chest of the vampire at his side, even knowing that he couldn’t win against Enrique.
“This one’s strong. He’ll wake soon.”
“He’s mine,” Enrique reminded him.
“Of course,” Xuan agreed. “They’re all yours. I’ll go get our things from the cave.”
Enrique didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply hunkered down next to the sleeping vampire and waited for him to wake to the first night of his new life. The younger the vampire, the later he woke after sunset, but it wouldn’t be long now. And Enrique liked to be sure his was the first face the youngsters saw upon waking.
Xuan stood and stared at the avarice in Enrique’s expression as he studied his newest soldier and, next to him, the greasy pile of dust that only yesterday had been a healthy young human.
At that moment, Xuan made a decision. He walked back to the cave and gathered their gear, packing what he could into their saddlebags. And then, taking his own small pack in hand, he left the safety of the cave and the dubious companionship of Enrique, and he walked into the night.
Vincent (Vampires in America Book 8) Page 30