Vincent (Vampires in America Book 8)

by D. B. Reynolds

  That being the case, Raphael wouldn’t want to question the vampire under Vincent’s roof. The plan was to accept delivery of the gift, take him back to California, and question him there. After which, he would die a painful death at Raphael’s hand.

  Cyn agreed that the foreign vampire needed to be interrogated and executed. They needed to learn as much as they could about the plot to take out Raphael and the larger strategy behind the Europeans’ planned invasion of North America. And, of course, having tried and failed to kill Raphael, the vamp had to die. But as for Alexandra’s death . . . to Cyn’s mind, that bitch had earned her fate. Although Raphael didn’t see it that way.

  “Come inside,” Vincent said, returning to the business at hand. He glanced around the wide open foyer. “We’ll have more privacy.”

  Vincent led the way into a well-appointed room with oversized wood and leather furniture and a huge stone fireplace, cold now that the weather was warmer. Vincent’s lieutenant, a tall blond surfer-boy type whom Vincent had introduced as Michael, was there along with a hulking male vamp named Ortega, who looked like he should be guarding the velvet rope at a nightclub.

  Ortega and Juro stationed themselves on either side of the closed doors, Ortega giving Juro a challenging eyeball which Juro ignored the way one would a misbehaving puppy. He was kind about it, but he left no doubt who would win if Ortega was naïve enough to throw down a challenge.

  Cyn smiled, then slid her hand down Raphael’s arm and laced her fingers with his. Let Vincent think what he would, let him think she was nervous and needed the reassurance of Raphael’s touch. The reality was that Raphael was riding a fine line of rage. He wanted the vampire who’d killed his sister. It was necessary to play this little game of diplomacy to get him, but Raphael’s patience was not unlimited. Cyn’s touch drew him back from the edge, and, since touching Raphael wasn’t exactly a hardship, she was happy to be of service.

  Jared stood to Raphael’s left, while Michael stayed close to Vincent and Lana. Everyone was here. Everyone in their place. Raphael’s black gaze lifted to Vincent, his expression completely blank.

  “Thank you for coming so quickly,” Vincent said.

  Raphael tilted his head in acknowledgement. “You’re eager to be rid of him.” He said it as a fact, not a question.

  Vincent grinned, breaking the almost painful politeness they’d all been maintaining. “He’s a pain in the ass. If I hadn’t known you’d want him, I’d have killed him two minutes after meeting him.”

  “I appreciate the courtesy,” Raphael said wryly.

  Vincent shrugged. “I figured I owed you, for Xuan Ignacio, if nothing else. And I don’t like owing people.”

  “There was no debt incurred,” Raphael replied smoothly. “Enrique was a fool who thought he could remain apart from the coming conflict. His ignorance endangered us all.”

  “Consider it a gift then, against future good will.”

  Cyn bit back a sigh. These guys took twelve words to say what anyone else could have managed in two. She caught Lana’s eye and saw the other woman covering her mouth, fighting a laugh.

  Vincent’s gaze slid down to his lover? Mate? Cyn didn’t know, but there was more than simple affection between them, that was for sure.

  “He’s in the next room,” Vincent admitted finally. “Perhaps the ladies should wait—” Lana’s dismissive snort cut off whatever he’d been about to say.

  Cyn laughed out loud and leaned into Raphael’s side, holding his hand in both of hers. “I wanna see, too,” she said cheerfully.

  Lana didn’t even try to cover her laugh this time.

  Vincent’s eyes met Raphael’s. “I’m new to this,” he said. “Is it worth it?”

  Raphael turned his gaze on Cyn and gave her a slow smile. “Oh, yes.” Cyn rested her head briefly on his shoulder, straightening when Vincent shook his head in surrender.

  “All right,” he said. “Let’s all go, then.”

  RAPHAEL HAD BEEN aware of the other vampire’s presence from the moment they entered the building. Standing there trading polite words with Vincent had taken all of his restraint. He was here for one reason only, and that was to pick up Alexandra’s killer.

  Vincent finally had enough of the polite chitchat, or maybe it was the women’s scorn that motivated him to get things underway. Normally, Raphael would have objected to being the object of Cyn’s amusement, especially given the circumstances. But in this case, he had to agree with her. He wanted to get the fuck on with it.

  Vincent led the way to a single, unassuming door, and entered an eight digit code on the keypad. The door buzzed, then slid smoothly open to reveal a bare room with a holding cell on the far wall.

  Raphael loosened his fingers from Cyn’s and stepped closer to the cell and its lone occupant. The vampire glared back, eyes gleaming faintly, his mouth twisted into a sneer.

  “I tire of this, Vincent. Release me now and my mistress—”

  “Silence,” Raphael said quietly.

  The prisoner’s eyes went wide, fear replacing the scorn as his gaze settled on Raphael and he seemed to recognize him for the first time. Raphael could feel him trying to speak, fighting against the compulsion Raphael had set on him. Amused by the other vampire’s efforts, and curious as to what defense he would offer, Raphael eased the restriction, but did it in such a way that the prisoner would think he’d succeeded in breaking it on his own.

  Triumph flashed in the captive’s eyes as he sucked in a breath. “The great Raphael,” he derided. “I’m not impressed.”

  Raphael bared his teeth in a predator’s grin and promised, “You will be.”

  To be continued . . .

  (Please continue reading for an excerpt from Deception)

  War is breaking out!

  The North American vampire lords have all united behind Raphael.

  But who, exactly, will they be up against?

  Find out in Deception by D.B. Reynolds

  Available in March 2015

  (Excerpt)

  Deception

  by D.B. Reynolds

  JURO SHOWED UP in Raphael’s office just a few minutes after they were settled, with Raphael in his big chair behind the desk, and Cyn pacing around the room restlessly. She couldn’t help it, couldn’t stand still. This was too big; it was what they’d all been waiting for. The doors opened, and she stared as Juro strode in, with Jared only a few steps behind him.

  Cyn stopped pacing and glanced at the envelope in Juro’s hand. Knowing it was from a powerful vampire, maybe more than one, she half-expected it to morph into something else. A shrieking, flying lizard maybe, one that would spit poison to blind them while it tore Raphael’s heart out. Vamps were magic, after all. What was a little morphing between enemies?

  She was letting her imagination, and her fear, run away with her. But she couldn’t seem to stop it. Ever since Mexico, she’d had this lingering sense of doom, as if, despite all of their precautions, some insidious enemy was about to slip inside the barriers they’d erected and destroy everything that mattered to her. And the only thing, the only person, who mattered to her that much was Raphael. She’d never survive it if something happened to him. She wouldn’t want to.

  Her fears were an ache in her chest as she walked over to stand protectively next to him, inching over until her leg touched his. Seeming to sense her unease, Raphael ran his fingers along the back of her thigh before scooting closer to his desk and reaching for the envelope which Juro had placed there.

  “Wait!” Cyn said, stopping him, “How do we know there isn’t something inside, something other than a letter, or in addition to the letter?”

  Juro gave her an understanding look. “You’re familiar with our security protocols, Cynthia,” he said patiently. “It arrived via Federal Express, and the package was carefully exam
ined before it was opened. When the separate letter envelope was discovered inside, it, too, was tested for all manner of threats, both physical and biological.”

  “What about magic?” she asked, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

  “If it was magic,” Raphael told her, his deep voice easy and unhurried, “I would know.”

  Cyn let out the breath she’d been holding. “Okay,” she said reluctantly. What she wanted to do was toss the damn envelope in the industrial incinerator downstairs where they disposed of empty blood bags and, Cyn suspected, the occasional body. But she knew Raphael would never go along with that.

  He gave her thigh another light caress, then reached for the letter once more.

  It was a heavy linen envelope. The kind one rarely saw anymore, especially in this day of electronic communication. Raphael’s name was written on the front with lots of extra pen strokes and curlicues—the sort of writing one found on wedding invitations and little else. The flap didn’t have adhesive, but was closed with a wax seal.

  “Pretentious fuckers, aren’t they?” she muttered.

  “They’re very old,” Raphael replied.

  “So are you, but I don’t see you sending people letters written in blood and secured with a fucking royal seal.”

  “The seal isn’t royal, only personal.”

  “Raphael.”

  He smiled without taking his gaze off the letter. “Are you ready, my Cyn?”

  “No, but go ahead.”

  Raphael slipped a finger beneath the flap and broke the wax seal, then turned the envelope upside down and let the letter fall to his desk. Cyn watched as Raphael used an elegant opener in the shape of a sword to flatten the letter to his desk.

  She could see the writing. The reddish brown “ink” bled slightly into the heavy linen paper with every character, and she couldn’t help but think that was appropriate, since it wasn’t ink at all, according to the vampires, but blood. She wondered if they watered it down to make it easier to work with or if the vampire writing the letter simply ordered a minion to open a vein so he could use him as a living ink pot. She frowned at her own gruesome imaginings, then leaned forward to get a closer look at the text.

  “French,” she said.

  “It is,” Raphael confirmed. “Can you read it?”

  “I spent two years in a French boarding school.”

  “But did you learn anything?” he murmured teasingly.

  “Enough to know that’s written by someone a lot older than I am.”

  Raphael nodded. “The text is somewhat archaic.”

  “What does it say?”

  “They want to meet.” Raphael’s gaze lifted to meet Juro’s, holding for a moment before dropping to the letter once more. “To discuss terms.”

  “Terms of what?” Cyn scoffed.

  “They want us to accept their troublemakers, younger vamps who want more than the European lords are willing to give up,” Jared suggested. “But I bet they didn’t phrase it that way.”

  Cyn glanced at him, then back at Raphael who said, “The letter simply requests a meeting to discuss a reasonable accommodation, in order to avoid a war that none of us wants.”

  “That’s it? Where’s this meeting supposed to take place?”

  Raphael seemed to be reading further, and then he said thoughtfully, “Hawaii.”

  Cyn stiffened in surprise. “I didn’t know there were any vampires in Hawaii.”

  “A few, less than ten that we know of,” Juro said slowly, as if he, too, was surprised by the request.

  “But . . . who’s their lord, then?” Cyn asked, confused.

  “Strictly speaking, the islands are mine,” Raphael responded. He leaned back a little, his fingers steepled thoughtfully under his chin. “But the distance is great, and their true master is a vampire named Rhys Patterson. Most vampires don’t like islands. But Patterson wanted his own territory and knew he wasn’t strong enough to hold one, especially not against me. So, he requested permission to journey to Hawaii and set up a colony of his own. He sailed to Oahu with a diplomatic delegation from the U.S. just before the turn of the century.”

  Raphael had lowered his hands and was tapping one finger on the arm of his chair, a gesture of stress from a guy who rarely showed any outward signs, no matter how bad it got. Cyn wanted to comfort him, to sit on his lap and put her arms around him, but that wouldn’t do. So, instead, she moved closer under the guise of bending over the desk and studying the vampire missive. Raphael immediately made room for her, pushing back a little and curling his arm around the back of her thighs, his touch comforting them both.

  “He made vamps after he got there?” she asked.

  “As Juro says, only a few,” Raphael told her. “He’s master enough to create his own children, but not strong enough to control too many. He’s never sired a vampire more powerful than he is, at least none that he’s permitted to live beyond the first night.”

  Cyn blinked at the casual, and brutal, revelation of the comment. “Does he come to the Council meetings?” she asked.

  “He’s not a member of the Council. He thrives in Hawaii by my goodwill. But I’ve never bothered with him. I did visit once, after air travel became feasible—I had my fill of sea travel on the journey here from Europe. It was an uneventful visit, but that was some years ago . . .” He looked up at Juro, silently asking if he remembered exactly the date.

  “1968?” Juro suggested.

  Raphael considered it, then nodded. “1968.”

  “And you haven’t been back there since?” Cyn asked.

  He shrugged. “No, but we talk on the phone a few times a year.”

  “Where do they suggest meeting, my lord?” Jared asked, returning to the matter at hand. It was a practical question and one Cyn wished she’d thought of. It galled her to admit it, especially since it was Jared who’d pulled them back on track, but she was too emotionally involved in this situation and wasn’t thinking straight.

  Raphael didn’t even glance at the letter. “Kauai, which is where Patterson lives.”

  “Are all of his people on one island?”

  Raphael nodded. “As far as I know. He originally set up on Oahu, but he didn’t think far enough ahead. He hadn’t bought enough territory to ensure privacy for him and his children, and the island got too crowded. By the time I visited in ’68, he’d already relocated to Kauai and secured a big enough parcel of land to ensure he wouldn’t have to move again.”

  “May I see the letter, Sire?” Jared asked.

  Raphael handed it to him.

  “You read French?” Cyn asked, concealing her surprise. She knew that Jared had been brought to this country as a slave, although, now that she thought about it, she wasn’t exactly sure which country he’d been brought from. France had been very active in the slave trade, more active than the U.S., if truth be told. She’d have to ask Raphael later, because God knew she wasn’t going to ask Jared about it.

  Jared glanced up at her question and gave a single nod. “They’re asking to meet on Kauai,” he repeated, reading the letter. “But there’s no mention of Patterson. You think he’s still alive?”

  Raphael shrugged. “He’s sworn to me, but he’s not my child. I’m not certain I’d feel his death at this distance.”

  Jared looked up with an unhappy expression. “You’re going to go.” He said it as a statement, as if Raphael’s decision was a foregone conclusion.

  Raphael nodded. “There is no other way . . .”

  (Please continue reading for more information about the author)

  Please visit these websites for more information about

  D.B. Reynolds

  Author Website

  Facebook

  D.B.’s other titles from ImaJinn Books

 
Aden

  Amazon * Kobo * BN

  Raphael

  Amazon * Kobo * BN

  Unforgiven

  Amazon

  Signup for email updates about

  D.B. Reynolds

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to my editor and ImaJinn guru, Brenda Chin, and to Debra Dixon, Danielle Childers, and everyone at BelleBooks for all they do.

  Huge thanks to Carlos Looney and Danielle La Paglia for their extensive help with Spanish translations in this book. I quite literally couldn’t have done it without them. Rebel love is a wonderful thing. Any mistakes, however, are solely my fault, not theirs. Thanks also to the wonderful and talented artists at Warvox.com for letting me use Vincent’s beautiful tattoo.

  As always, I want to thank Michelle Muto and Steve McHugh, friends and talented writers, who give me so much encouragement and provide invaluable feedback on everything I write. You really need to check out their books on Amazon and elsewhere. They’re both terrific.

  Thank you to my darling husband and my family for their love and support, with special thanks to Michael Mineo who requested (aka demanded) to be a vampire in this book. He’s lucky I love him, which means he’s not only a good vampire, but one who will live on for a long time. Hope you like your alter ego, Mikey!

  And finally, writing is a solitary endeavor. That’s just the way it works. I sit for long hours, all alone, typing away in the middle of the night—just me, my laptop, and Buffy on the TV. But I’m never lonely, because I can reach out night or day to my many friends and readers around the globe, and someone is always awake. I love you guys! You keep me company, you keep me sane.