Blood Reunited

by Amber Belldene

  “Have I earned the right to ask what it is you intend?”

  He smiled at her, every trace of worry wiped from his face. “You most certainly have. How could I ever have imagined Zoey could be my partner in this endeavor? Only you truly see me and have chosen my way, rather than clinging to some arbitrary notion of goodness.”

  She shifted several inches over, where the black metal of the van remained searing hot, and pressed her skin onto the burning surface. When the heat began to sting, she replied. “Yes.”

  He followed her movement, stepping with her. He traced his hands up her sides to cup her breasts. “I want them all at my mercy, Gwen. Every last Hunter as obedient as you are.” Pinching her nipples between thumbs and forefingers, he twisted. She gasped at the sweet pain.

  “I will earn their love with my victory over the vampires,” he went on. “And once they have had a deep and satisfying taste of the violence they were reared for, they will be mine to command in all things.”

  “What things?” she asked on a breath, writhing and leaning toward him in spite of her instinct to pull away.

  “It hardly matters.” His feline eyes bored into her. He released his grip on her breasts and dug his thumbs directly into her already sensitive nipples. “The key is violence—the purest form of reality. Think of how the initiates enjoyed Lindsay’s death. I hope to capture Maras’s household alive because once my Hunters taste violence, they will know the only truth is power, and the only pleasure comes in taking it. Or, for a very few, like you, pleasure comes in giving up your power and your responsibility to make decisions. Which makes you very special to me.”

  Gwen’s pulse thrummed with increasing need as pain stabbed into her breasts. Her sex throbbed, wet and hot. She wanted to wrap her legs around his waist and grind against him. But she had killed for him, had surrendered her humanity to aid him in this frightening plan, and she needed to grasp his logic. She was his to do with as he liked, a beast without morals, seeking the only form of gratification she desired—the pleasure of his annihilating abuse. And she had done it because the path of healing had been so much more painful and frightening. But she wouldn’t wish her nearly soulless state on another living creature. And he planned to create an army of beasts like her, who hungered for violence and lived by the law of power—his power alone.

  He dropped his hands to his side and studied her with a suspiciously neutral expression. Beneath it she saw his vulnerability. He had revealed himself fully to her, and of course he would need reassurance of her approval. His plan was sick, and wrong, and against the things she had once stood for. But now she stood for nothing and the revelation of his plan didn’t upset her the way it should have—proof she was his first disciple.

  “I am honored you want me by your side. What do you have in store for Marasović?”

  “Reports say there is a locked vault leading into the basement. I am going there to oversee opening it.”

  He was leaving? She’d just returned to him. Fear squeezed her heart. “Can’t you send someone else?”

  “I want this finished—no mistakes.” He brushed a lock of hair off her forehead. “Gwen, I am so close to my goal that I can taste it on your lips. You have ensured my success, and my defeat of Marasović will surely assuage any doubts Williams can stir.” Focused on her mouth, his eyes shone feverishly bright.

  She placed her palm on his chest. “Be careful.”

  “Not to worry, Gwen. Victory is at hand.”

  Chapter 48

  NO ONE WAITED FOR THEM at the airport. Where the hell was Bel’s crew? Vania had promised to pick them up. He called her while Pedro called Lucas. Neither answered. He tried Andre. No luck.

  Uta shielded her face from the glare of the afternoon sun, her eyes flicking back and forth between them as the phones rang ceaselessly. “We ought to leave our belongings here and rent a car. This way we can approach the estate in stealth.”

  Always thinking like a general, his Uta. He picked only one hard-sided case from the pile of luggage next to his plane, and it wasn’t the chromatograph. Sometimes he didn’t get to be the scientist, he had to be the mercenary.

  Pedro drove as fast as he could without drawing attention. When they came to the turnoff for Kaštel, traffic piled up where a police car blocked the highway. An officer detoured people to the east or west.

  “Is that the direction of the house?” Leo asked, pointing at an enormous black plume of smoke.

  The car slowed to a stop, as if Pedro had simply forgotten to press the gas. “Yes.”

  “Shite. Are they all dead?” Bel asked, panic for his family reaching into his chest to squeeze his heart.

  “No.” Pedro shook his head. “I would feel it.” He pressed the pedal to the floor and turned off the highway onto a county road. “This will take us to the back end of the estate, and we can take a dirt road in from there. It will give us an element of surprise.”

  Hell, that they were driving around at all in the middle of the day was an element of surprise.

  Uta’s arm snaked across the back seat, and she curved her palm over Bel’s knee. A simple comfort. Like their kiss, their almost shag, it didn’t have to mean anything—

  At that moment, it meant everything. He wasn’t alone.

  If everyone he loved died in Kaštel, he wasn’t alone.

  “Surely the cops will have come?” Bel whispered.

  “It’s fire season.” Pedro looked up from the road to scan the sky. “There should be helicopters carrying water from Lake Berryessa.”

  Pedro slowed the car, turning toward a steel gate. Before the car stopped, Uta was out the door, ripping the gate off its hinges. She hopped back in and Pedro gunned the engine, driving as fast as the little sedan could manage on the rocky, uneven road. Even if they’d wanted to speak, the gravel kicking around in the wheel wells would have made it hard to hear.

  He came to a halt in a shallow ravine. “If we climb to the top of that hill, we’ll have a view of the house.”

  Uta and Pedro raced to the top in a blur while Bel jogged behind, Leo on his heels.

  At the crest, his lungs locked around smoky, oxygen-less air. There was no house anymore. Not really. Only a smoldering shell. The south wing still blazed bright, but only a few skeletal beams remained of the north wing. In the kitchen, molten piles of metal that had once been appliances steamed. Poor Andre—another home destroyed. Hunters swarmed over the property, presumably looking for remains—human or vampire.

  “Are they dead?” Leo asked.

  “I already said no,” Pedro hissed.

  “I know, it’s just that—”

  “Do not bicker.” Uta swatted Leo’s hand. “There must be some kind of underground—”

  “Yes,” Bel said. “The hatch door into the cellar would withstand a fire, even a hot one. But it must be getting pretty toasty down there about now.”

  “Is that the door there—where those men are gathered?” She peeled off her jacket and threw it on the ground.

  He squinted. “Yes.” The Hunters formed a semicircle in what would have been the front of the house. “What are they doing?”

  “Cutting into the door with an acetylene torch,” Pedro said.

  “Time to swoop in to the rescue. Can you handle those men, Pedro, if I take out the rest of them?”

  “Sure thing.” He stood to his full height and bounced on the balls of his feet. For a split second, Bel wondered if he would fly. He was young, but he’d been drinking Hunter go-juice his whole vampire life, and he’d been to the homeland, which was apparently like the magical Land of Oz. But no, Pedro just sprinted down the hill like a roadrunner in a cartoon.

  “Don’t hurt the firemen,” Leo shouted after him. “I like firemen.”

  “Leo,” Bel called. “Go get my pistols out of the trunk. Can you shoot?”

  “I’m better at long range.”

  Bel scanned the distance to the house; they were just in range of his PSG1. “Good. Grab the rifle. You tak
e out anybody you can from here. I will back up Uta and Pedro with the handguns.”

  She snapped to attention, her face twisted in anger. “I would fuck a flock of sheep before I let you—”

  In the heat of the sun, Bel went cold. “Let me?”

  She took a deep breath, with exaggerated patience, raising her narrow chest like she might punch him. That would guarantee compliance—he’d be out like a light.

  But she didn’t hit him. “Think what will happen to me if you are injured. I am the greatest asset in this battle, Bel. Stronger than Andre, even. But you are my Achilles’ heel. If you are hurt, I will be useless. I need you to stay put, and if they come after you, get in the car and flee. Protecting yourself is the best thing you can do for your family and your crew.”

  Her impeccable reasoning only infuriated him, but his pride was not worth risking his family. “Uta,” he whispered.

  She cocked her head.

  “Don’t get hurt. I’m fucked without you too.”

  She smiled, giving him a glimpse of her sexy fangs as she launched herself into the air like an arrow. There were times being bonded to a beautiful badass wasn’t so bad.

  Halfway down the hill, Pedro spotted the oil drums. A dozen of them.

  They’d already burned the house to the ground. What the hell were they going to do with those?

  O Madre de Dios. They had a hose.

  Squinting, he glared at the man with the torch. Pedro couldn’t be certain from the line of sight, but he seemed to be cutting a hole in the center of the door, not opening it up from the edge.

  A hole in the door. A hose. A hell of a lot of gasoline.

  Just like Papa had done with the rattlesnakes on their vineyards in Argentina. Fire in the hole.

  All the men wore yellow suits, prepared for a massive burn. Igniting that much gasoline underground would surely blow the door, and maybe collapse the cellar.

  Pedro flexed his palms, calling to mind the moves he’d rehearsed for years in his dojo, before he became a vampire. First he went for the men near the barrels. When he reached them, another instinct took over, guiding his hands in unrehearsed moves that came as second nature. He twisted off two of their heads like screw-caps. A spray of glorious, rich Hunter blood shot across his face and he licked his lips.

  Well hello, boys. This could be fun.

  The next time he snapped a neck, he made sure to aim the full stream of hot, potent lifeblood right into his mouth. Its power stoked an energetic, sun-heated fire inside him. He was invincible. They would win.

  Above him, Uta buzzed through the sky toward a group of Hunters like a determined hummingbird.

  The men huddled around the door didn’t seem to hear a thing through their helmets and the whirring of the acetylene torch. Pedro picked off the two at the back.

  “Almost finished now. It is a shame we have to burn them out,” said a Hunter near the front. The familiar voice sent icy stabs of phantom pain up Pedro’s legs. Ethan Bennett.

  Just the man he was looking for.

  Pedro laughed loud enough to turn the heads of the three remaining Hunters.

  Behind the transparent plastic shield of the helmet, the look on Ethan’s face was even more satisfying—his mouth fell open and he looked sunward. After a long moment, Ethan refocused on Pedro and shouted, “Seize him.”

  The unarmed Hunters turned, their mouths gaping nearly as wide as Ethan’s. Face to face with a vampire, without their oversized arsenal of guns and explosives, they cowered like a bunch of chicken shits. Pedro scanned their faces, hoping to see if any of them were the ones that had beaten on him the day he’d been captured. But their faces, twisted in fear, did not resemble the ones populating his nightmare of a memory.

  He delivered a roundhouse kick to the head of the one holding the torch, expecting to knock him over. Instead, he flattened the man’s skull. Oops. And cool. The orange-blue flame sputtered out.

  Ethan ran, darting toward the highway. Pedro let him run; he would just wear himself out.

  With the success of his kick, Pedro couldn’t resist grabbing the remaining two Hunters under their chins and crashing their heads together like a cartoon. He giggled.

  Mierda, maybe he needed to work on some anger management. Or maybe killing Ethan would erase all his anger. Besides, these assholes were trying to kill everyone he loved.

  Pedro’s feet scuffed over the ash-covered foundation of the house—Jesu Cristo, even the wood floor of the foyer had incinerated, baring only the cement foundation. How long had the place been burning before he got there?

  Please let everyone be safe in the cellar.

  He scanned the horizon. No sign of Uta now.

  Ethan’s head popped up from behind the oil drums. One had toppled over. Pedro glanced down. He stood in a puddle of gasoline. The fire came all at once, from a flame thrower Ethan had picked up. He ignited the gasoline spreading all the way to Pedro’s feet.

  His pants caught fire and the burn was so much like the pain Ethan had inflicted on Pedro’s extremities that he froze, trapped in the memory of his former helplessness. His flesh began to melt and sizzle, and he snapped out of the daze, leaping away from the flames.

  And he never came down.

  Gracias a Dios. He was flying. He spiraled over the ruins of the house, swatting at his burning khakis and allowing his skin to heal. Ethan gazed up at Pedro, his flame sputtered out, and the nozzle dangling limply at his side. The motherfucker looked even more surprised at this unexpected turn of events, which was pretty much exactly how Pedro felt. He was nowhere near the age of flight, but his little stint in the homeland and the infusion of Hunter blood had dialed up his power, big time.

  His airborne maneuvers came naturally, and he descended like a graceful Tinkerbell right in front of his nemesis. Finally, they were face to face. Pedro finally had Ethan in his grasp, and the relief blazed through him almost as fast as the fire had.

  “I bet this isn’t how you expected it to end.”

  Ethan shook his head. “It is not over. It cannot be. I am going to win.”

  Pedro recoiled, glancing from side to side for the Hunter’s reinforcements. None came. The man’s confidence was pure delusion.

  “I have armies of Hunters at my beck and call.” Ethan squared off his shoulders. “My power is limitless.”

  Pedro tilted his head. “Yeah, but it’s just you and me here. And I’m like a bazillion times stronger than you.”

  “I do not lose.” Ethan frowned at the charred earth.

  “Jesu Cristo, man. Have you always been like this? No wonder Lucas hates you.”

  “He hates me because he had to live in my shadow. Now take me to Marasović.”

  “My thoughts exactly. He should be down in the cellar with Zoey and Lucas. When I take you down there, it will practically be a family reunion.” Pedro jerked his head in the direction of the house. “Let’s go.”

  Ethan bared his blunt human teeth.

  Pedro shrugged. “It’s your call, but you being taller, I expect your feet will drag.”

  The man’s golden eyes, identical to Pedro’s own, darted from side to side. Pedro sniffed, hoping for a whiff of urine or plain old fear. No luck. Ethan still didn’t believe he’d lost, but he did begin to march toward the entrance into the bunker.

  The house had nearly vanished, the hillsides were still black with only the barest hint of green grass sprouting. This paradise, Pedro’s home for nearly fifteen years, had been obliterated. Walking alongside his nemesis across the scene of devastation, Pedro imagined himself in a Western—John Wayne marching the outlaw toward his reckoning.

  Pedro stomped on the hatch, hoping the hole the Hunters cut had compromised it. No luck. And from the outside, no hinge-side or latch-side was visible. He would have to peel it back from the top. When he bent down to grip the edge of the door, Ethan grew twitchy in the corner of Pedro’s vision. The Hunter shoved his hands in the pockets of his fireman’s jacket and shifted his weight. Did the a
sshole have a gun?

  Pedro blurred to the hose and back with a length of rubber tubing to bind up Ethan’s wrists.

  Surprised, Ethan fought against the restraint. “What the hell?”

  That decided it. Pedro tore off another length of hose and gagged him. Then he went back to work on the door. Finally, he got a fingerhold. It took all his vampire strength to peel up a corner of the lip of the hatch. He fell back, winded.

  Ethan exhaled through his nose.

  Pedro narrowed his eyes. Not like Ethan’s men had managed to open it either. “I’ll wipe that smug look off your face. Or, better yet, peel your face right off. It is only my generous character that demands I take you down to them alive, but you don’t have to be whole.”

  The door groaned, and a moment later the latches unlocked with a click. Pedro hopped off as it swung open, releasing air several degrees hotter than outside.

  Kos stood on the step below, grinning. “I knew that was your voice.”

  Pedro called down into the darkness. “Honey, I’m home.”

  “Why didn’t you just knock?” Kos’s glance flickered to Ethan, and his smile flattened. “Damn. Get him down here.”

  Pedro shoved Ethan toward the door. He didn’t resist. Did he have an ace in his pocket? Or was he drunk on some crazy delusions of grandeur?

  “He’s not rigged with explosives, is he?” Kos asked.

  “Nope. I did the smell test. Besides, he’s not the type to wear a suicide bomb—just to strap them to others.”

  Ethan marched in like he was on the way to his victory speech.

  Kos held open the door to Andre’s office. “When it got hot, we sent the humans into the tunnel. But don’t worry, Bennett, we still have a welcoming committee for you.”

  Ethan marched in first with Pedro and Kos following.

  Gray-faced, Lucas reclined in an armchair, his feet on the coffee table. Mierda—he’d lost more weight in the three days Pedro been gone. Pedro’s chest clenched.

  “Un-gag him,” Lucas said.

  Pedro loosened the knot. Ethan spat out the tubing. “You don’t look good, brother.”