Sophia

by D. B. Reynolds

  Sophia was abruptly thankful she’d taken care with her appearance. Knowing her figure-hugging sweater and black leggings highlighted what were very feminine curves, and that the knee-high boots with their stiletto heels added attractive length to her legs. She swept her long coat behind her and dropped into the graceful curtsey she’d learned hundreds of years ago at her nanny’s knee.

  “Lord Raphael,” she said, pitching her voice deliberately into a low, sensuous purr. “Sophia Micaela Angelina de Sandoval y Rojas, in loyal service to my Sire, Lucien Guiscard, Lord of the Canadian Territories.”

  She looked up, meeting his gaze intentionally. “But between us, my lord,” she said. “Sophia will suffice.”

  Raphael eyed her dispassionately, giving no indication that he considered her anything but a nuisance. The skinny human woman draped over his shoulder was another matter. She was studying Sophia with undisguised dislike, her right hand dipping briefly beneath her short leather jacket where . . . Meu Deus, the woman was carrying a weapon! Sophia shifted her gaze back to Raphael, who had clearly noticed the human’s reaction and would no doubt chastise her for it.

  But instead, the vampire lord slid his hand off the chair arm and onto the woman’s leg in a clear signal that was not lost on Sophia. Nor was the smug look in the human’s green gaze or her tiny smile of victory. Bitch.

  Sophia shifted her attention away from the human, meeting Raphael’s eyes and letting her own register a polite disappointment, even as she bowed her head in respect.

  “Where is Lucien, Sophia?” Raphael asked, his voice a burr of velvet-sheathed power against her skin.

  Sophia’s head came up, her gaze meeting his once again. “My lord, I had hoped to find him here.”

  She saw Duncan shift slightly, heard the intake of breath from the vampires behind her, and knew with cold certainty that her Sire was not in Seattle. Or if he was, none of them knew about it.

  Raphael continued to study her, his expression devoid of any emotion. Of them all, only he had shown no reaction to her response and the information it conveyed—not the tiniest bit, not surprise, not puzzlement, and certainly not alarm.

  “Lucien has not entered my territory,” he said bluntly, clearly having no doubts and feeling no need to elaborate.

  “Why would you expect to find him here?” Duncan asked from his position to Raphael’s left.

  Abruptly aware she was still bent into the uncomfortable curtsey, Sophia rose to her full, modest height. She shifted her gaze from Duncan to Raphael and back again. How much should she tell them? Lucien’s letter had sent her here, but had he meant for her to confide to anyone the details of the Vancouver deaths?

  In general, the vampire lords did not share information—or anything else—with each other. They were viciously territorial and quite openly hostile, at least in North America. It wasn’t unheard of for a stronger lord to push the territorial boundaries in an attempt to enrich his own power at the expense of another, and frequent disputes erupted, sometimes violently. Lucien’s Canadian territory was vast, but largely unsettled, both in terms of people and vampires, and rarely the object of any other lord’s ambition. This was a good thing for Lucien since, as he’d told her many times, he was a lover not a fighter. Sophia wasn’t aware of any open conflict between her Sire and Raphael, or any of the other North American lords, for that matter. But then, she’d been gone so long, and had paid so little attention.

  An unwelcome thought sent tendrils of nausea twisting into her gut. Had Lucien known Raphael would be here when he’d sent her on this errand? Or if not known, had he at least suspected it? Could there be a connection between the Vancouver deaths and whatever business had drawn the Western vampire lord away from Malibu and up to this concrete and steel compound?

  Sophia sighed and turned her unwilling gaze on Raphael, who blinked lazily, letting his eyelids drop slowly over the silvery sheen of power. She almost laughed. What was she thinking? He didn’t need to ask for the information he wanted; he could rip her mind open like a tin can and simply take it.

  “Lucien summoned me home several days ago,” she said bitterly. “It was our first contact in years.” She shook her head. “Decades,” she amended. “I’ve been living in Brazil. The lords down there are lax in their enforcement, to say the least. As long as a vampire observes a few basic rules, they don’t care who sired you or whom you call master.”

  “How did Lucien contact you?” Duncan asked.

  Sophia glanced at Raphael before answering, but the vampire lord seemed content to let his lieutenant take the lead. “Directly,” she said simply. “He spoke in my mind just as I woke for the evening. He gave me no reason, simply summoned me home to him with an indication of urgency.”

  “Do you know why?”

  Sophia shook her head, letting some of her frustration show. “No,” she admitted. “I only arrived in Vancouver yesterday evening. I went straight to his main estate above the city, expecting to find him waiting, but he wasn’t there. And no one I spoke with knows where he is.”

  “What made you think you’d find him here in Seattle, then?”

  “A letter. He left me a letter with details of certain recent and very troubling events. And then he told me to come here.”

  “What events?” Raphael spoke at last, the question a whiplash of power demanding an answer.

  Sophia drew a deep breath and forged ahead. Lucien had left this matter to her. She had only her instincts to guide her, and those instincts were telling her to come clean with what she knew. Any other path would only lead to more killing.

  “Death, my lord,” she said bluntly. “Three vampires in Vancouver have been destroyed. I do not know how or by whose hand, but the killers may now be in your territory, and . . . I believe Lucien is somehow at the heart of this.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Thinking of his own dead, Raphael felt a renewed surge of rage. Next to him, Cyn shifted, resting her fingers against the back of his neck.

  “Who died?” he demanded of Sophia.

  He saw her blink in reaction as his anger washed outward, felt her power push back briefly. She had surprising strength for one of Lucien’s children. Perhaps that was why she’d been the one Lucien had called when he got into trouble over his head.

  “I have their images, my lord,” she said with admirable calm. “And their names, although I’ve never met them.”

  “Who?” Raphael insisted.

  “Giselle,” she said softly.

  Wei Chen gasped audibly when she said the name. Sophia shot him a quick glance over her shoulder before turning back to Raphael. “Along with Damon and Benjamin,” she said. “It is my understanding the three lived together and died on the same night.”

  “My lord,” Wei Chen started to say, but Raphael raised his hand for silence. Giselle wasn’t one of his, but he’d known her. She was old and canny, but with very little power. And because of that, she’d chosen to live in Vancouver after Lucien and Raphael had matched the boundaries of their two territories to the international border between the U.S. and Canada. She’d wanted a quiet life and had trusted the easygoing Lucien to give her that. Unwisely, it turned out.

  “How do you know these three are dead?” Raphael asked Sophia.

  “Their names were in Lucien’s letter, along with a photograph. I have both of those with me, my lord, if you’d like to see them.”

  Raphael signaled Duncan who stepped forward to accept a folded envelope Sophia drew out of her coat pocket. Duncan opened the letter slowly, shaking out the photograph and studying it carefully before handing both photo and letter to Raphael.

  Raphael only glanced at the photograph, handing it off to Cyn almost immediately. He turned his attention instead to Lucien’s letter. If he’d had any doubts before about what Sophia had told him, he had them no longer. The handwriting was Lucien’s, but more than that, the vampire lord’s power was imbued in the parchment itself, the regret and sadness he’d experienced while writing it wa
s as vivid as the tear drop staining the fine linen paper. But rather than sympathy, Raphael was revolted by the words of his fellow vampire lord.

  Lucien and Raphael were nearly the same age, but the other vampire had set himself up in America decades before Raphael arrived in the New World. At first, Lucien had confined himself to the eastern provinces of what would become Canada. When he decided to expand westward, he and Raphael had easily agreed on a territorial line, moving it as events warranted and the humans expanded their settlements. Lucien had always been a poor protector of his people and a lax guardian of his territory, but he’d been just powerful enough to hold onto it, especially given the lack of any serious takeover bids.

  But the current situation was a new low, even for Lucien. His people were dead, murdered as they slept, and he was gone, leaving nothing but an urgent summons to Sophia and this pathetic letter in which Lucien confessed his own complicity in leading the killers right to Giselle’s door.

  And now, the animals who’d murdered Giselle and her lovers clearly had moved southward into Raphael’s territory to continue their killing spree. Was it coincidence that Lucien had directed Sophia to follow in their wake? That his letter connected the two sets of murders? Raphael didn’t believe in coincidence, especially not when it came wrapped in Lucien’s words of self-pity.

  But Raphael was not Lucien. He would not cower in hiding while his people died. He would find these killers and eliminate the threat once and for all.

  And after that . . . perhaps it was time to find a new lord for the Canadian Territories.

  * * * *

  Sophia stood silently, watching Raphael read Lucien’s letter. She knew how incriminating it was, knew her own anger upon reading it. She could only imagine Raphael’s rage. It was his vampires whom Lucien had put at risk by hiding instead of dealing with the tragedy he created.

  She jumped when Raphael suddenly barked out an order.

  “Wei Chen,” he said. “Have someone show Sophia to the guest quarters.”

  “But my lord—” Sophia’s protest died on her lips when the powerful lord turned his black gaze upon her. She felt her heartbeat speed up, felt her own power trying to rise to the surface as every defensive instinct she possessed screamed to the fore all at once. She squelched the reaction brutally, nearly passing out with the effort, but knowing she would be dead in seconds if Raphael willed it. And he was in a temper. She didn’t need to know him to see that. His rage was like a separate entity in the room, a creature of heat and fury.

  She dropped to her knees, willing to beg for what she wanted, what she needed—to be a part of the hunt for these killers. Because there had to be more than one of them. Probably a whole murderous pack. No single human could have taken down three vampires and sent Lucien scurrying for cover. She wanted to see these humans brought to justice—Vampire justice. For reasons she couldn’t explain, it mattered more to her than anything had in centuries—with one exception, and that was something, someone, she never permitted herself to think about.

  “Lord Raphael,” she said, trying to keep the pleading out of her voice. “Permit me to be a part of this. These were Lucien’s children who were murdered, and yes, it was at least partly his fault,” she hurried to add. “But my Sire is alive, my lord. I know this.”

  Her voice died, her throat suddenly dry as a desert as Raphael’s already chilly expression turned absolutely frigid. Sophia knew in that moment that Lucien’s remaining nights would be counted on one finger if Raphael found him alive.

  Hot tears pressed against the back of her eyes, a wrenching grief that squeezed her heart painfully. She loved Lucien. In spite of his many faults, he’d given her the greatest gift of life when he’d turned her, and they’d shared so much joy together. It would hurt her if he died, even if he had brought it on himself.

  She bowed her head, unwilling to let Raphael or any of the others witness her pain. Clenching her jaw and forcing her sorrow aside, she raised her eyes to meet his once again. “I know you don’t need my help, Lord Raphael, but I beg you to let me offer it. For the sake of Lucien’s people, who do not deserve to suffer for his misdeeds.”

  Raphael just stared at her with no expression. “Wei Chen, have someone see Sophia to her room,” he said.

  “Yes, my lord,” the Seattle nest leader said from behind her.

  Sophia came gracefully to her feet, turning in time to see a slender, young vampire conferring with Wei Chen, who looked up and caught her gaze. “Sophia,” he said. “This is Lukas. He’ll show you to the room you’ll be using during your stay.”

  Sophia nodded, then dared to turn back to face Raphael once more. “My lord?” she asked. He still said nothing, regarding her with a flat expression that gave no clue as to what he was thinking. She drew a deep breath and made her way toward the waiting Lukas, aware of everyone watching her as she wound through the cluster of furniture and across the echoing space.

  At least he hadn’t sent her back home immediately. That was something. And if he tried . . . she had power of her own. Far more than she let on. It wasn’t enough to take on Raphael, but it was enough to challenge anyone who thought they could set her aside like an unwelcome puppy. She would hunt for the killers. With Raphael’s help or without it.

  Chapter Twelve

  “She’s telling the truth,” Duncan said once the doors had closed securely behind their visitor.

  “What she knows of it,” Wei Chen clarified, taking his seat again. “I had our people do some checking. Like she said, she’s been living down in South and Central America for nearly a century, most recently in Rio. For all purposes, she’s been without a master, flying under the radar. You know how relaxed they are about those things down there.”

  Raphael sat back, content to let his people talk it out.

  “She flew in yesterday, my lord,” Juro provided. “It was a private flight, but the distance necessitated several stops and took some time. At least part of her travel was in daylight, however, which lends credence to her claim of urgency.”

  It was Cyn who asked the question they were all thinking. “So where is this Lucien guy? Is he dead?”

  All of Raphael’s people looked to him for the answer. He thought about it, his fingers stroking Cyn’s leg absently. “No, he’s not. Lucien was never the most powerful among us, but his strength was still considerable. His death would certainly have been detectable to you here in Seattle, Wei Chen, and probably even to most of us in Malibu. Particularly if the death was unexpected. Even he was taken out by one of his own in a coup d’état, there would have been at least some losses among his children, and that many deaths would definitely have been felt. Unless Lucien has a child we don’t know about. Someone strong enough to eliminate his Sire and seize power without a ripple.”

  Duncan snorted softly, circling around to take the chair next to Cyn. “Highly unlikely, my lord. Lucien has always chosen playmates as his children, not players.”

  “Sophia could do it,” Wei Chen observed. “She’s hiding her power, but it’s there.”

  “She probably could,” Duncan agreed thoughtfully. “But she’s spent the last hundred years following in her Sire’s hedonist footsteps, so her strength remains mostly potential. And if she’d eliminated him, she’d hardly risk coming here on a pretense of looking for him. There would be no point. Plus, she seems to genuinely care for Lucien, which makes her an unlikely candidate to have killed him.”

  “Perhaps,” Wei Chen conceded. “My lord,” he continued, turning to Raphael. “Would it be possible for Lucien to mask his signature well enough that he couldn’t be found?”

  Raphael shrugged. “Not from me. He is not within my territory, but he is alive and I will find him.”

  Cyn moved restlessly. “But finding him isn’t our first priority, is it? If he’s not here, he doesn’t matter, except that now we know the killers started up there and traveled here.”

  “Why?” Wei Chen asked. “That’s what I’d like to know. And how did
they decide on who their targets would be? Jeremy,” he said, turning to the vampire sitting quietly next to him. “Did you know Giselle or her nest mates? Did you do any work for them, by chance?”

  Jeremy shook his head right away. “All of my clients are U.S. based. And I didn’t do any work for Marco or Preston, so that can’t be the link.”

  Wei Chen blew out a frustrated breath. “So, why them? How did they come to the attention of these killers?”

  “They didn’t,” Cyn said suddenly. She leaned forward intently. “I’m betting the humans never saw any of their vampire targets before the day they hit them.”

  The Seattle vampires were staring at her with matched expressions of doubt. Despite what Raphael had told them earlier, they’d expected his Cyn to be nothing more than arm candy. Duncan and Juro knew better and were regarding her with thoughtful expressions, but Cyn ignored all of them.