Bond of Darkness

by Diane Whiteside

  “At least some of them may have moved by now, since Madame Celeste died well before dawn and we haven’t seen Devol since then,” Gray Wolf pointed out quietly.

  An unhappy silence swept through the room.

  “We still have to check every address on the list.” Doña Grania was pragmatic as always.

  “Agreed.” Don Rafael rubbed her shoulders as if drawing strength.

  “Rough Bear, you have the lead, as alferez menor, with Hennessy’s Dallas compañía as your shock troops. The attacks will begin immediately after sunset.”

  “We will be very—thorough, sir,” Rough Bear purred. Rafael allowed his fangs to flash in acknowledgment, probably certain one of his eldest hijos would prepare suitably memorable departures to the afterlife for those bastards.

  “Gray Wolf, I’d like you and Caleb to personally search Austin. The list is longer here.”

  Gray Wolf nodded silently.

  “Jean-Marie, you and Hélène will go to San Antonio, to ensure it’s thoroughly cleansed after so many attacks.”

  “Of course, mon père.”

  Just how far did Don Rafael intend to strip his defenses? Ethan kept his expression impassive.

  “Luis, I want you to work with Jean-Marie on a list of every other similar place those brutes can move to.”

  “We have already started.”

  “Excelente—but be creative and thorough. I place my full reliance on you two.”

  Ouch. Luis would work himself and his entire staff into the ground after that.

  Doña Grania wrapped her fingers over Don Rafael’s without looking at him, a gesture of such love and compassion, it made Ethan’s throat tighten.

  He lifted his chin and stared at the great sword, that symbol of knightly honor and duty.

  “Ethan.”

  “Sir?” He met his master’s eyes calmly.

  “You and I will stay here to coordinate the attacks.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  Crap. He’d have enjoyed bashing Devol’s head in.

  “You have much to do, everyone, in order to prepare for tonight’s—frolics. Dismissed.”

  Rafael sat down on the desk and eyed his darling. “What do you think?”

  “Of the plan?” She shrugged. “It’s the best you could do.”

  “And my men’s reactions?” He picked up her hand and started playing with her fingers. The left hand, of course. Thumb, forefinger . . . The square little box shifted in his pocket, as if eager to meet her.

  “Gray Wolf is very pleased. Jean-Marie is glad to stay close to Compostela, so Hélène can continue to rest. Luis wants to redeem himself. You know that.” He nibbled her fingertip and she raised an eyebrow.

  “Ethan?”

  “Wants to fight, of course.”

  “I won’t let my best fighter go far from you.”

  “But you’re here.” She gulped, her pulse racing when he kissed her wrist.

  “I’m the only vampiro in Texas who can walk in daylight, querida.”

  “But . . . Oh damn.” She threaded her fingers through his and pulled him close. He readily slipped onto the floor at her feet, kneeling before his gracious lady.

  “Pequeña, all will be well.”

  “I lost you once. Worse was living without you.” Her voice was muffled against his hair.

  “It was so for me, too. Even a small tumble felt like an abyss because you weren’t there.”

  She sniffled, intertwined courage and terror flooding their link.

  “Mi corazón, will you bind yourself to me in this life?”

  “Whazzat?” She pulled back to stare at him, her blue eyes enormous.

  “Will you marry me? We will have a proper marriage this time, not a rushed ceremony in a little chapel.”

  “Chosen so my Princesse couldn’t change her mind about being able to spare my services?” Grania laughed and threw her arms around his neck. “Of course, I’ll marry you, my darling—even if we have to go to Vegas!”

  “Vegas!” His horrified objections were drowned in the most delicious fashion possible, by her kisses.

  He came up for air finally, while sitting on the floor and cuddling her on his lap. He’d unceremoniously shoved his chair out of the way and they were facing his fireplace, with his great sword hanging above the empty hearth.

  She nestled closer, her soft curls tickling his throat. Joy stirred in his heart, followed by caution, but Rafael pushed back the wariness. Surely now they had time.

  He flipped open the lid and offered her the small box.

  “Ah, you romantic!” Her dazzled eyes shot back to his. “A sapphire ring for me—and for you, too?”

  “It’s traditional, la luz de mi vida.” Hers featured a single great sapphire, bracketed by perfect little diamonds, while the stones in his were set in a single, twisting band. “Our wedding bands will unite each betrothal ring into a single, triple ring—a puzzle ring, in a symbol of our love and our long lives.”

  “Perfect.” Tears dripped down her cheeks but she held out her hand. He slipped the ring on her finger, his own hand shaking a little, to his great disgust. But he quickly disguised that with a tender kiss.

  She caressed his cheek and retrieved the other ring. This one went on more smoothly and she kissed his hand quickly, cherishing his scars.

  He lifted her chin. “Grania, mi alma, amarte para siempre no sería suficiente.”

  “Even forever doesn’t seem long enough,” she agreed, and leaned forward to seal their pact.

  A polite cough from the hall interrupted them just before he could start unbuttoning her shirt. Dammit, why hadn’t he closed the door?

  “Yes?” he snarled, wishing Luis at the bottom of the sea. Of course, if it had been any of his prosaico servants, he might have thrown something.

  “Captain Howard and Lieutenant Posada are here from the Texas Rangers, sir.”

  Madre de Dios, what were they doing here? Rangers never came to Compostela because they weren’t supposed to know there was anything interesting here.

  His eyes met Grania’s, both pairs equally stunned.

  “Are they working with Ethan?” she whispered, and sat up.

  “No, not that I’ve heard.” He filled his eyes with her one last time, mourning his lost opportunity, but stood up. Duty was a very hard taskmistress sometimes. “Where are they now, Luis?”

  “The library, sir.”

  “Bien.” He reached down and lifted his lady to her feet, stealing one last kiss before he left the room. As for his speedy pace? It was only polite to greet his visitors as rapidly as possible, es verdad? Hardly because he was a novio eager to return to his beloved novia. He grinned privately and moved a little faster.

  Two men turned to face him, both tall, weather-beaten, and smelling of long familiarity with firearms. But one was older and warier, while the other held the barely leashed eagerness of a fine hunting dog who’d just scented wild boar.

  “Welcome to Compostela Ranch, gentlemen. I’m Rafael Perez.”

  “Zach Howard, and this here’s Jorge Posada.”

  Handshakes followed, and Rafael gestured them to the big leather chairs, silently dispatching Luis for drinks.

  “What can I do for you, gentlemen?” He waited, well aware his insatiable curiosity was why he’d been summoned. Normally Luis or one of his men dealt with any visits from law enforcement.

  “We understand you rent land outside Gilbert’s Crossing,” the older man started the conversation, his Texas drawl gentle but his eyes sharp as the edge on a good bowie knife.

  Rafael’s eyes flickered. Although he ferociously hid true ownership of his land in order to hide its full extent, he did occasionally rent it back to himself. When that happened, he wasn’t as careful about hiding the traces.

  He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  “True. I have some goats and sheep grazing on it. Why?”

  “Do you know an arroyo called Rio Oso?”

  Ice ran through his veins
. Santa Madre de Dios, what had gone wrong to make the Rangers ask about a road only two living men still knew how to follow?

  Ethan!

  What the hell? Coming, sir!

  “Why?” he asked the Rangers bluntly, dropping all pretense of indifference.

  “Are you aware Ramirez, El Gallinazo’s executioner, was killed near there a few months ago?”

  “Yes, of course.” By Ethan’s Ranger. “It was in all the newspapers.”

  “During our investigation, we learned El Gallinazo has recently been running massive convoys of illegal goods through the area.” The younger man took up the story.

  Massive? ¡Maldita sea, he must have started immediately after we thinned our border patrols to provide troops for the war! Is that how Devol brought his bandolerismo into Texas?

  “Go on,” Rafael gritted out.

  “We understand his preferred route is through someplace called Rio Oso. The only map where we can find it is pre-Republic and not very accurate. But it does seem to indicate Rio Oso falls within your ranch.”

  Its southern entrance did—the only part anyone ever wanted to guard.

  “Why are you talking to me and not my landlord?” Rafael asked warily, grabbing for one last chance to avoid the inevitable. “Surely they should know all about the land.”

  “They’re a corporation and you’re somebody we can speak to, face-to-face. Can you show us where the arroyo is on a map?”

  Rafael hesitated. How much did he want to admit to Rangers ? Especially during a face-to-face journey to the border? Only he and Luis knew how to find Rio Oso during the dry season.

  Given El Gallinazo’s treaty with the Mexican vampiros, he almost certainly wasn’t crossing the border without at least one vampiro present to ensure the Feds were looking the other way. Sending the Rangers down without help would only get them killed. Nor could he send Luis there, whose compañero abilities would be of little use against multiple vampiros.

  “We have reason to believe,” Howard said quietly, his deep voice rasping through the room, “El Gallinazo traffics in both cocaine and slaves. Tonight’s convoy is supposed to be especially large.”

  ¡Coño! No way would he allow that filth to touch his land another day. But Santa Madre de Dios, I do not want to make this journey.

  A sword twisted through his heart. He closed his eyes for a moment but reached for duty yet again.

  “I can take you there,” Rafael said softly. “I can’t show you on a map, since it’s an arroyo seco—an arroyo which disappears underground during the dry season, leaving no traces on the surface.”

  “But—” The younger man started to argue.

  Howard stared at Rafael, who glared back implacably. Messages were passed between two old warhorses until the Ranger captain finally coughed. “Looks like we’ve got a civilian guide. We’ll have a bunch of Feds with us, too. Do you think you’ll be bringing anybody, too?”

  Rafael nodded, his throat very tight. The compañeros from his fast reaction force were all he could spare from the hunt for Devol. He’d leave Ethan behind to guard Grania, of course, with Emilio and the few remaining mesnaderos.

  If only his visions would let him reliably see threats to those closest to him . . . But no, he could see hurricanes, ice storms, even droughts. If he saw something endangering his loved ones, it was truth—and he could count those occasions on his fingers. He’d have to pray Rough Bear, Jean-Marie, and his other men would sweep the land free of Devol and all his filth, never letting a single iota slip through to endanger dulce Grania.

  San Rafael Arcángel, protect me on this journey. Let it not be like the last time I rode out to protect the border from an enemy invasion and never returned to my beloved lady . . .

  SEVENTEEN

  COMPOSTELA RANCH, THAT NIGHT

  Ethan headed out for the cemetery as soon as full darkness fell. As the senior vampiro present, it was his duty to walk the inner perimeter.

  It also gave Doña Grania time to compose herself after Don Rafael’s departure. She’d been very brave when she’d waved him good-bye, but she’d left for their rooms immediately afterward, her face far too desperately calm.

  Jean-Marie, on the other hand, had gone off hand in hand with his cónyuge, both of them relaxed and eager for the fight. A little nervous as any good warriors should be but still stronger for each other’s presence, with no hesitation because Hélène was a woman. Jean-Marie was damn lucky Don Rafael had accepted her and he knew it.

  Ethan kicked an inoffensive pebble out of his way, hurling it over the hilltop, and jumped onto the last step. The fountain greeted him with a delicate mist, sparkling like diamonds under the waning moon. Moisture beaded on his forehead and shoulders, darkening his hair like a veil. A breeze caught the spray and tossed more at him, wrapping him in it until the world fell away.

  “Templeton.” Deaf Smith saluted him, still wearing his fringed leather coat and high leather moccasins. The silver star on his chest burned brighter than the moon, the surrounding wheel spinning through the mist.

  “Ranger Smith.” He returned the salutation, his blood running faster.

  “There will be a fight at the border tonight,” Smith commented. It wasn’t a question but Ethan chose to treat it that way.

  “Yes. Federal troops and the Rangers will be there, plus our men.”

  “And some of my friends. But that is not why I came. I had a wife and daughters who I loved more than life.”

  Ethan bowed slightly. “Texas cared for them in your stead, sir.”

  “For which I am deeply grateful.” He paused, his hand gripping his bowie knife. “A brute and his followers have been killing Texas’s women.”

  “Devol!”

  “Correct. He plans to kill Texas’s greatest lady, Doña Grania.”

  “We know where they sleep—”

  “Do you expect your enemy to wait for you?” Sam Houston’s greatest scout cast him a scornful look and Ethan winced.

  “Devol and his best men will gather tonight at midnight, at Valencia. We watched some arrive last night.”

  “All of them?”

  “A half dozen, with more to come.”

  “Do you know where the others are? The cities in their old hideouts or coming directly here or meeting someplace else?”

  “We can’t see their former resting places,” Smith admitted reluctantly.

  “Giving us no idea of how many are doing what or where. Shit, shit, shit.”

  Smith’s silence provided eloquent agreement, even if it lacked profanity.

  “Hell, I don’t have enough men to send a party after Devol but he’s the big threat.”

  “I can talk to you, as a fellow warrior and scout, but no one else. My friends and I will do what we can to help, but we are limited.”

  “Any aid in this crisis will be deeply appreciated,” Ethan assured him. He took another turn around the fountain, barely noticing his now-soaked torso.

  “I’ll have to go there alone. I should be able to thin their numbers considerably.” He scored his lip with his fangs, eagerly tasting the fresh blood. “Losing one vampiro from Compostela’s defenses won’t be pleasant but won’t cripple her, either. I’ll leave Emilio in charge.”

  “A compañero?”

  “You know our ways, then?”

  “Do you always try to teach your grandmother to suck eggs, young man?”

  Ethan chuckled and bowed his head, accepting the reproof. “Emilio is a proven warrior in a hard trade, with the U.S. Navy. But he has doubted himself since the attack on Doña Grania, even though he figured out how to use an owl as a weapon. This should give him the chance to redeem himself.”

  “Very well. Until my friends meet yours in Valencia, Templeton.” Deaf Smith raised his hand and was gone.

  His friends? But he was going alone.

  HIGHWAY FROM DALLAS TO AUSTIN, LATER THAT

  EVENING

  Steve drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and changed channels on th
e police scanner yet again. Nothing. Not that she’d expected to hear anything, given how far north she was from the action. But she would have liked to have known something—anything!—if only as a small payback for briefing the governor on their activities, while he was in Dallas on that fund-raising trip. After all, she’d kept him out of the team’s hair while everybody else went off to the border in search of El Gallinazo and his drugs. Lucky them.

  And she got to drive up to Dallas and back down to Austin. All in the name of executive oversight. Whoopee.

  Nor did she get to see Ethan tonight, since he’d already called her, claiming all-night sentry duty. He’d mentioned Devol would be taken care of soon, but he hadn’t said how. Damn him for being a close-mouthed son of a bitch.

  Given that she was guaranteed to be alone tonight, she’d chosen to return on the older, more scenic highway, rather than the interstate. Maybe she’d have enough peace to think about that new bike she wanted instead of another date with a battery-operated boyfriend.

  Yeah, right.

  She eyed the silent scanner again, shot a glance at its frequency display, and said a few extremely impolite phrases about folks who observed radio discipline all too well.

  Her headlights flashed on a sign for Valencia Estates, the golf resort developing Valencia. “Final stage sold?”

  But they’d been still laying the basic water and sewer systems when she and Ethan were out there a week ago. How could they have sold all their lots by now, given all their acreage?

  She jerked her truck over to the roadside and reversed it rapidly, barely watching for either oncoming traffic or the deep irrigation ditch edging the highway. An instant later, she halted it with a screech of brakes, hopped out, and stared at the real estate sign suspiciously, her big police flashlight blazing like a searchlight.

  Yes, it truly did say Valencia Estates had their final stage sold. But the lettering was a trifle ornate, almost calligraphic. Odd, very odd—and something cold sank into her bones, like a swamp’s putrid damp reaching out on a wintry night.