Scooting onto one of the kitchen stools, she opened her laptop and logged in. She was about to open her work files when the new folder she’d created for the files purloined from Anthony caught her eye. She’d intended to discuss them with the guys, was going to argue for them letting her handle the research and general ferreting out of info, while they focused on the stuff she couldn’t do, like fighting and all-around intimidation. Other issues—like a full-blown street battle and an enemy invasion—had intervened before she could talk to them about it. But there was no reason she couldn’t get started.
She clicked the folder open and scanned the document list. There hadn’t been enough time to be picky. She’d simply grabbed everything she could, and still didn’t know exactly what she had. She hadn’t discussed any of this with Christian, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what they were looking for. Anything that incriminated Anthony. A nice confession would be good. Maybe a heartfelt diary entry . . . I can’t live with the lies anymore. I have to tell someone. She snorted her opinion of that happening. Anthony was one of those people who could justify just about anything, as long as it served his purposes.
Her eye trailed down the list of documents. She’d used her access to the network, and her more or less authorized knowledge of everyone’s password, including Anthony’s, to log onto his computer and copy everything generated in the last two weeks. The files were from several different folders on his computer, but for the sake of expedience, she’d dumped them all into a single folder on her flash drive. That left her with a jumble of file names and dates. She clicked the heading to sort the docs by date, which at least gave her a place to start. The most recent documents were likely to be the most relevant.
She went through the files systematically, one at a time. Most were routine stuff, but she did learn one thing. Anthony kept a record of everything, including personal notes and observations. Forget that diary, this was way better. He didn’t like e-mail, and he never texted, preferring a face-to-face conversation or a phone call, but apparently, he’d fully embraced the use of his computer as a personal journal. Getting inside a person’s head and discovering how they thought was half the battle in figuring out what they were hiding, and where. Anthony’s notes were like a roadmap for someone like her.
As she skimmed down the list, looking for more journal entries, she came across a sub-folder that she must have grabbed without realizing. It was titled “Faxes,” and she opened it expecting to find . . . faxes. Lots and lots of faxes, going all the way back to when Anthony first came to the estate. Who used fax machines these days? E-mail was much more efficient and easier to keep a record of. But it was also easier to track and hack. This was probably more of Anthony’s paranoia peeking through, but it worked for her, so she started opening files. They were all the same format—a document that someone had created for Anthony to use as a fax cover sheet, with an auto-fill function on the appropriate lines. And several had been written in the last two days. In fact, it was a flurry of faxes. Heh, heh.
Most had to do with arrangements for Anthony’s personal belongings to be packed and shipped to New Orleans, and for various details of a house he’d apparently purchased in that city in anticipation of his move. Her family would be sorry to see him return. Was it wrong for her to hope he never made it back?
She opened the next one in order and was surprised to see Christian’s name on the subject line. Reading down, she realized it had never been sent. There was no one on the “to” line, but the bulk of the text was all about the battle down in Laredo. In fact, based on what little she knew, it seemed almost prescient in its details. She frowned. Scoville was the one who’d called Christian, and he’d said Anthony was MIA. So why would Anthony know so much about what was happening?
Making a series of notes to herself, she stayed with the fax files, and eventually found one that had been sent to Vincent just a few hours ago. It was in Spanish, which frustrated her a little bit. She could get by in the language, but she was far from fluent. Still, she read through the text, using a translation app when she hit words or phrases she didn’t understand. And the more she read, the more worried she became. This e-mail had the same urgent tone as the one Anthony had written to Christian, but it urged Vincent to go far south into his territory, all the way down to the Gulf of Mexico. It warned that Hubert had established a foothold in a small fishing village there, that he was turning locals, and creating an army in preparation for a move against Vincent.
But how could Hubert be in a village on the Gulf of Mexico if he was attacking the border outpost in Laredo? And hadn’t Christian mentioned that Vincent was on his way to Laredo?
More importantly, why did Anthony know so much about Laredo?
She picked up her cell to call Christian. Foremost, he needed to know that Vincent wasn’t coming. But he also needed to know that Anthony might be involved, and that the situation might not be what Scoville said it was.
She called his cell phone, but there was no answer and no voicemail. “Damn it,” she swore softly. He should be off the helicopter by now. She’d been working for several hours already. But that meant he was probably in the middle of a fight, and not exactly paying attention to his cell phone.
She stood there for a moment, staring at the floor, not seeing anything, deciding what to do next. But the answer was obvious. She had to go down there and warn him herself. She knew all the arguments against her going. She wasn’t a fighter, and blah, blah, blah. But she wasn’t as helpless as everyone seemed to think, either. Christian would still be furious, but better that than dead.
And bottom line, she couldn’t trust anyone else to do it. Everyone had an agenda around here, including her. The difference was that the only line on her agenda was keeping Christian and Marc alive.
Her mind switched to planning mode. No emotion now, just logistics. She knew the air charter company Anthony used. She could call and arrange transport using her authority from the estate. She could also use the estate’s money, which was both handy and karmically satisfying. But first, she needed an update on the situation. It wouldn’t do any good if she zipped down there, only to stumble into a bloody mess of a battle.
Information, information, she thought as she scrolled through her contacts, and stopped on Jaclyn’s name. With Jaclyn’s connection to Raphael, she’d certainly know what was going on. Natalie pressed the button, and listened to the phone rang.
“Hi Natalie,” Jaclyn answered with her usual lack of formality. “Are you coming in tonight?”
Natalie frowned, surprised that Jaclyn would expect her. Between Anthony’s unknown whereabouts, and a full-on battle on the border, the estate house was the last place she’d be expected to be.
“Probably not,” she said slowly, “what with Christian rushing off to Laredo.”
“Laredo? What’s happening down there?”
Fear seized her, and her heart stopped beating for a long moment. “There was an attack on the outpost tonight,” she said, her throat so tight she had to fight for the words. “Scoville called Christian in a panic, begging for help. It sounds like Hubert’s about to launch a full-scale invasion.”
“I haven’t heard anything about this,” Jaclyn said, her words laced with impatience. Her voice abruptly faded as she turned away from the phone. “Cibor,” she said, “what’s going on in Laredo?”
Natalie couldn’t make out what Cibor replied, but it wasn’t what Jaclyn wanted to hear. “Well, get hold of someone down there, and find out what the situation is. I want it five minutes ago.” Jaclyn’s irritated voice came back to her. “What else do you know?” she demanded.
“I only know what Christian told me about their phone conversation. But there’s something weird going on, because—”
“Hold up,” Jaclyn snapped, and then didn’t say anything for a long time, while the deep rumble of Cibor’s voice cou
ld be heard in the background. And then Jaclyn was back.
“Something odd is going on,” she told Natalie, her tone both worried and distracted. “No one here knows anything about an attack. And no one is rushing to defend the border.”
“Jaclyn,” Natalie said urgently, “it’s way more than odd. Look, I hacked into Anthony’s private files, and there are faxes and stuff. I think—” She drew a deep breath through her nose, fighting for calm. “I think Hubert really will attack tonight, but Scoville’s working with Anthony, and they lured Christian down there to face Hubert and his whole damn army all alone. They want Christian dead.”
Cibor could obviously hear every word, because he said something to Jaclyn, and then Jaclyn said to Natalie, “I think you’re right. But the only way to be sure is to fly down there ourselves, and I can’t go. I’m too closely linked to Raphael, and we can’t get in the middle of what some might consider a territorial challenge. But I’m sending Cibor down to eyeball the situation. If there really is an invasion, he’ll be a good addition to Christian’s side. And if not, he’ll at least be able tell us what’s really going on.”
“I’m going with him,” Natalie said, sliding off the kitchen stool and heading for her bedroom. “But you’ll have to stay here with Alon, just in case.”
“Stay there? Wha—Wait! Who’s Alon?”
“My dojo master. Christian turned him after he nearly died when Marcel Weiss tried to kill Christian last night,” she said, speaking rapidly.
“Marcel tried to kill Christian? What the fuck?”
But Natalie wasn’t listening anymore. “Alon won’t be any trouble, because he’s asleep and locked in a vault. But I can’t leave him here all alone.”
“Well, good, because you’re not going anywhere.”
“Can you get a helicopter?” she asked Jaclyn, ignoring her pronouncement. “Marc told Christian that a helicopter worked best, because of airport hassles and stuff, so—”
“We’ve got this, Natalie. Cibor will take care of it.”
She ignored that, too. “—how long before you and Cibor can get here?”
“Look, I’m not sure—”
“About what?” Natalie demanded. “Christian and Marc are out there all alone against who knows how many enemies. They need help, and I can do that.”
“How, Natalie?” Jaclyn asked softly, her voice full of compassion. “I understand you want to help him, but you can’t fight vampires, sugar. I don’t care how much karate or whatever it is that you do. You’ll only get hurt or worse, and that won’t help him.”
“I appreciate what you’re saying, but you don’t know—”
“And Christian?” Jaclyn persisted. “Do you think he wants you in the middle of a vampire battlefield? Do you have any idea what that’s like? He locked you in his house, didn’t he? I bet you’re sitting there with all the shutters deployed, and not even a window to look out of. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Natalie tightened her jaw, hating to admit Jaclyn was right. But she still didn’t know everything that Natalie knew. “You’re not wrong about the house, but it doesn’t matter. Christian doesn’t know that he’s on his own. Scoville told him that help was coming, that Vincent was coming. But he’s not. Anthony sent him to the other side of Mexico! I have to warn Christian.”
“Did you try calling him?’ Jaclyn asked patiently.
“Of course, I did,” she snapped. “It was the first thing I thought of, but he’s not answering.”
“He probably turned everything off. No distractions on the battlefield,” Jaclyn mused. “It’s what I would do.”
“Well, whatever his reasons, I can’t reach him, which means I have to go there—”
“And become the biggest distraction of all.”
That gave Natalie pause. Jaclyn was right. Christian would worry more about protecting her than himself. And that could get him killed. But she couldn’t sit here and do nothing. “Christian needs what I know,” she insisted.
Jaclyn sighed. “He’s probably figured it out by now, but I’ll send Cibor to be sure. And you’re not going, even if I have to lock you up. Cibor can get there faster without you, and he’s one hell of a fighter.”
Natalie’s heart was urging her to go, to find her own way there and rush to Christian’s side. But her very excellent brain shut that idea down almost before it started. Jaclyn was right. Christian needed Cibor right now a lot more than he did Natalie.
She sighed deeply, and mumbled, “Okay.”
“It’s for the best, sugar. But I’ll come over and keep you company, anyway. We’re on our way.”
Laredo, TX, on the Mexican border
CHRISTIAN STARED out the window as the helicopter swooped low over the border outpost. Its belly lights illuminated an adobe-style building that appeared abandoned. There were no guards in sight, despite the chopper hovering noisily overhead, and no lights were on anywhere in the building. What the hell had happened here? Had Hubert already attacked and moved on?
As the helicopter circled, he swept the area with his power, searching for life forms of any kind. He caught a drift of something strong enough to bring all of his senses to full alert, but then it was gone, like a scent blown in from far away, and stirred up by the chopper blades. He frowned, considering the possibilities. It could be nothing, a trace left over from the many vampires who’d occupied this outpost. Or it could be Hubert. The ancient vampire might have clamped down on his power a second too late to conceal it from Christian, which meant he was close. The possibility made him uneasy, but not as uneasy as the abandoned outpost did. Where were the vampires who should have been stationed here? Where was Scoville?
Christian studied the lone outpost building, looking for answers as the helicopter made its landing approach. The structure was big enough to hide a lot of vampires, and there was certain to be a basement. Maybe Anthony’s people had hidden themselves down there, wanting Hubert to think the place abandoned, so they could spring an ambush.
He continued his sweep of the area, probing as deeply as his considerable power would let him. He found nothing and no one, until the helicopter dropped low enough to land, and then he faltered under the assault. The outpost was a graveyard. It stank of very recent violence and death. Everyone who’d been here in the last twenty-four hours was dead. Friend or enemy, it didn’t matter.
The chopper settled on the ground, skids sinking into the soft dirt. Christian slapped Marc on the shoulder, then stepped out, adopting a crouching run until he cleared the rotor blades, then straightening to look around.
“I’m not sensing anyone,” Marc said quietly, his voice troubled as he came up next to Christian.
“There’s nothing to feel but death,” Christian told him, then stiffened to attention and spun around.
“You’re too late,” a rough voice said from within the darkness of the open door.
Christian stepped in front of Marc as a figure appeared. His face was in shadow, but Christian could read the exhaustion in his body language, could see the blood draining from multiple wounds in his chest that obviously wouldn’t heal.
“Who—” he started to say, but then the person emerged fully, and he recognized him. “Scoville?” he said in surprise. “What the hell happened here?”
Scoville smiled bitterly, and took a stumbling step forward. Marc rushed over to help, slinging the other vampire’s arm over his shoulder and easing him over to a nearby wall to sit. Christian watched without saying anything, while Scoville tried to catch his breath. He must have been shielding like crazy to conceal himself from Christian’s initial sweep. Why?
“I didn’t know who you were,” Scoville said, anticipating Christian’s question. “I thought it was Anthony, coming to make sure of his work.”
“You’re saying Anthony did all of this?”
Scoville spit a gob of blood onto the muddy ground. “Not in person. He leads from the rear, especially if the front involves dying. But it wasn’t supposed to be like this. You were supposed to die, not everyone else.”
Marc stood with a hiss of anger, distancing himself from Scoville, putting himself between the injured vampire and Christian.
Christian touched Marc’s shoulder, and moved around him. He needed to talk to Scoville, needed to see the vampire, to judge what he was saying. “So this was all a trap. You wanted me down here.” He shrugged. “Here I am. So what happens next? And why shouldn’t I kill you right now?”
He laughed bitterly. “Go ahead. I’m a dead man either way. Anthony told me to call you, said he’d send a chopper to get me before you ever got here. Everyone else was supposed to die. He wanted you to see this, to see what Hubert could do and be afraid. He wanted you to die afraid. But he lied . . . again.” Another laugh, this was weak and breathy, as if the recitation was taking his last strength.
“I don’t know why I’m surprised. All he does is lie. There was never a chopper to whisk me away to safety. You were right all along. I was never more than a stalking horse, a sacrifice to make things look good. But Anthony’s had another candidate in mind all along.”
“Who?” Christian demanded. None of this was making sense.
“Hubert,” Scoville said, his face bleak as he raised his head to stare at Christian. “Anthony made a deal with Hubert in exchange for New Orleans. Raphael wanted out of the South, and Anthony knew he couldn’t hold the territory on his own. So he called Hubert. Anthony gets the greater New Orleans region as a new territory of his very own, not beholden to Hubert or anyone else. And Hubert gets all the rest of the South.”
Christian (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 10) Page 29
