Christian had every confidence he could defeat the French lord, but victory could not be taken for granted. Hubert was powerful and ruthless, and Christian would have to be at his best. Which was why he had to resist the temptation to end this part of the battle quickly.
One of Hubert’s vamps suddenly came roaring through the swarm. Bigger than the others, his red eyes bore a gleam of intellect that the others lacked, and it seemed to drive him forward. He made straight for Marc, rolling beneath the bursts of destruction being generated by all three of them. He managed to tackle Marc around the legs and send him tumbling to the ground, where he wrapped gnarled fingers around his throat, and bore down. His face was contorted with hatred, fangs gleaming, and ropey muscles straining, as he tried to choke the life out of him.
Christian spun around, grabbed the vamp by his long, greasy hair, yanked him off Marc, and tossed him through the air. He landed on top of the horde who immediately began attacking him, biting and clawing, seeming not to understand that he was one of their own, knowing only that he’d come from the enemy. And all the while they kept up that weird keening growl.
“Marc?” Christian asked, his attention fixed on their enemy, killing any of them who ventured too close.
“I’m good,” his lieutenant said, jumping gracefully back to his feet. His neck was bleeding where the vamp’s fingernails had dug into the skin, and, at any other time, Christian would have pulled him out of the fight to treat those wounds, which were surely filthy. But not tonight. It was only the three of them, and everyone had to keep fighting. But even with all of them giving their best, Christian knew they couldn’t stand against these creatures for the rest of the night. Exhaustion would take its toll, and he was wasting his power on these pathetic vampires when no matter how many he took down, more would come to fill the gap.
He had to end this grueling stand-off. He had to find Hubert and kill him.
It was a struggle to search for Hubert, while fending off the horde, but he managed. He’d no sooner begun, however, than he heard the low buzz of a helicopter rotor, growing louder by the second. He had the brief thought that their pilot must have come back to evacuate them, but dismissed that quickly. The pilot was human. He’d have no idea what was happening here. And if he did, he’d take one look at Hubert’s zombie army, and get the hell out of there.
He had the even more unlikely thought that the approaching copter was Anthony sending help. But that was such a ridiculous idea that it was there and gone before he could draw the breath to laugh about it.
The zombie vamps didn’t seem to care either way. If they noticed the helicopter, they didn’t react to it. Christian had nothing but his peripheral vision to spare for the new arrival, and it showed him a single, large male jumping from the helicopter when it was still well above the ground, which meant the jumper was a vampire. But friend or foe?
“What the fuck?” Christian muttered. Like he needed anything to make this night worse.
But the vampire who burst through the horde, sword in hand, slicing left and right as he strove to join them, was definitely a friend. Cibor hacked a path to Christian’s side, put the building at his back, and wordlessly joined their defense, wielding his sword and his power with deadly accuracy. He fought with a confidence and grace that were the product of his history. He’d been born in a time when men fought with swords, and he’d wielded a blade from the day his hands were big enough to hold one.
“Jaclyn sends her regards,” Cibor said finally, not even glancing aside as he cleared a cluster of vampires, slicing them open, then stabbing them in the heart to be sure they were truly dead. It was much easier to know such things when your enemy simply dusted upon death. With these zombies, you had to make sure.
Christian raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn’t expected Jaclyn’s aid, not with her close association to Raphael. But he was happy to have it. “I’ll thank her personally when this is over,” he said.
“You think you’ll survive this?” Cibor asked, as he lifted his chin to indicate the seemingly endless army of zombie vamps.
“I know I will,” Christian assured him.
Cibor tossed his head back and laughed. “I gotta say, Duvall. You’ve got balls. Speaking of which—” He paused to take out three vampires who were attempting to take advantage of what they thought was his distraction, clearing enough space that he could get more than few words out. “Listen, Natalie found something in Anthony’s files. Vincent isn’t coming to this party. Anthony sent him on a wild goose chase in the opposite direction.” He grunted as a vampire came flying out of the pack, vaulting over his fellow zombies in his eagerness to die. Christian raised his power to destroy the vamp, but Cibor lifted his sword first. He impaled the vamp through the chest, then tossed the body off his blade and back into the fray with a flick of his wrist.
As if that was a signal of some sort, the zombie vampires abruptly pulled back a few yards. They crouched low and hunched together, their red eyes staring straight ahead, never blinking, never veering. Hands were curled into claws, and their fangs dripped saliva along with their own blood, from where they’d sliced up their lips. These were very new vampires, and it made Christian furious that Hubert was using them this way.
“Creepy bastards,” Cibor muttered, whipping his sword through the air to strip the blood off. “What the hell are they doing?”
Christian had a pretty good idea, but first. . . . “Is Natalie okay?” he asked.
Cibor nodded. “Completely safe. Jaclyn’s with her.”
Relief washed over Christian, giving him a boost of energy. His worry for her had been a distraction he couldn’t afford. Knowing she was okay was like getting a shot of power that he badly needed. He scanned the crouching vampires.
“Time to end this,” he said grimly. Tightening his shield around him, drawing on all of his power, he blasted a message into the ether. “Hubert!”
His answer came almost instantly. The zombie vamps parted like the biblical Red Sea, murmuring something rhythmic, their eyes lifted to the upper end of the opening pathway. Christian listened carefully, and realized the vamps were chanting Hubert’s name over and over again. Creepy didn’t come close to describing this scene.
The last of the vamps cleared the pathway, and Hubert was suddenly visible at the top of a small hill, standing there soaking up the worship of his admirers. A brilliant smile crossed his face when he swung his gaze over and found Christian watching him.
“Christian Duvall,” Hubert said. “What a delightful surprise. I’d expected Anthony. This is his territory, after all.”
“Bullshit. You know exactly where Anthony is,” Christian replied. “He’s back home safe and sound while you kill his enemies for him.”
Hubert shrugged. “Anthony is a weakling. But then . . . we can’t all be me,” he said, and laughed at his own jest. He sobered abruptly. “You should have sided with me when you had the chance, Duvall. I would have given you whatever territory you wanted.”
Christian chuckled. “Once you’re gone, the entire South will be mine, old man. I don’t like to share.”
“You think you can take me? You’re an infant, compared to me.”
“I’m old enough.”
“As you wish,” Hubert said casually, then flung his arm out, sending a huge blast of power bowling down the pathway.
Christian yelled a warning and shoved Marc and Cibor aside, as his own shields hardened in defense. The strike hit him like a thousand pound medicine ball, crashing against his shields, but not breaking them.
Christian matched Hubert’s smug smile as he revealed the full force of his vampire nature for the first time that night. Power swelled inside him, hardening his shields, screaming down his nerves, strengthening his muscles, until he felt ten feet tall and bursting with energy and confidence. He roared his defiance and slapped aside
Hubert’s attack, sending a return volley sizzling up the open pathway in a stream of blue fire. Zombie vamps screamed as they were caught in the blast, charred in an instant. The fireball crashed into Hubert who was standing there like a king, the dying screams of his minions washing over him while he ignored them. He staggered under the assault, then straightened with a howl of rage. Furious eyes shot copper flames, huge fangs glared white in a snarling grimace. He strode closer, every foot pounding into the soft ground, arms reaching out, firing shot after shot of pure power, each one stronger than the last, each one hitting Christian in a different place in a bid to break his shields.
Christian turned to Marc and the others. “Get away,” he said. “This is between the two of us.”
“I won’t leave you,” Marc growled furiously.
“He’ll use you,” Christian insisted. “He’ll kill you just to weaken me.”
“Fuck,” Marc swore, then leaned in to say grimly, “Draw on me for power, Christian. Use whatever you need.”
“It won’t come to that,” Christian assured him. “But I’ll use you if I need to,” he continued before Marc could protest. “Now leave this battle to me.”
Marc’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, and joined Cibor in grabbing Scoville, who was sagging badly. They moved off into the dark next to the outpost, far enough away to avoid getting caught in the back splatter, but close enough to see what was going on. Christian could feel them there, still too close. But he knew Marc would never leave altogether.
“It’s sweet how you care for your child and the others,” Hubert sneered. “You protect them now, but do you think I won’t kill them once you’re dead?”
Christian didn’t bother to answer the taunt. “Enough talk, Hubert. This has been building since the day we met. Let’s finish it.”
Hubert’s vampires shifted en masse, shuffling in a wave to cluster behind him, growling their weird noise, straining forward with fangs dripping as if hungry for their enemy’s blood.
Tired of the posturing, Christian paced forward deliberately to close the distance between them. He knew Hubert, knew that he liked to fight from a distance, with power lobbed like baseballs, slamming into his enemy and breaking his shields, until he launched the fatal blow. But Christian wasn’t going to let him get away with that. He was going to force the older vampire out of his comfort zone and into his.
Calling on the discipline of his Krav Maga training, Christian drew his power into a solid core deep inside his chest. Nothing was wasted, nothing was random. Even his shields were pulled in close to his body, until they were a hard shell of defiance. Raising his arms before him, hands as stiff as blades, he pushed deliberately into Hubert’s space until their shields touched, buzzing like a flight of angry bees as they strained against one another. It hurt like hell. But Christian ignored the pain, and shoved even harder until he was close enough to see fear beneath the rage in Hubert’s eyes.
Hubert fought back, slamming a fist into Christian’s ribs. But this was not the fighting style he was accustomed to, and the blow lacked power. He shrieked in rage, and several of his minions collapsed as the vampire lord sucked away their life force to power his own.
But while Hubert was focused on killing others to recharge his strength, Christian was focused on killing Hubert. Stiffening his fingers into a weapon, and putting all of his considerable strength behind it, he slammed it through Hubert’s shields and into his neck, ripping through skin and tendon and shredding his veins.
All around them the zombie vamps keened as Hubert staggered, eyes wide with shock as blood poured from his neck. Teeth bared, he came after Christian, taking advantage of their closeness, fingers spitting power as he plowed a fist into Christian’s gut, trying to dig through and reach for his heart.
Christian went to his knees, groaning under the assault. Every tear to his flesh, every rip in his organs was agonizing. But this was it; this was his moment. If he failed now, he would die, and Marc would die with him. He thought of Natalie, of what Anthony might do to her when he was gone, of how he would use her family to get what he wanted from her.
Never.
Forcing himself to his feet, dragging his arms upward, and drawing from Marc who had left himself wide open as a well of strength, Christian clapped both hands over Hubert’s ears, putting enough power behind it to rattle his brain. Hubert’s shields buckled under the concussive force, and he screamed in pain. He fell back, blood streaming from his ears and neck, hatred spilling from his eyes. He gathered his power once more, and the minions closest to him collapsed, sucked dry to feed their master. Hubert aimed a smug smile at Christian.
“You have your one,” he taunted, his face a gruesome visage above the bloody ruin of his neck. “But I have many.”
Christian staggered backward as Stefano Barranza sprang up from his concealment amidst the zombie vamps. His sword was a blur of movement, and Christian was forced to defend himself, forming a sword of his own, energy against steel. He girded himself for a fight, knowing the danger of turning his attention away from Hubert. But before Barranza could attack, Marc was there. Lobbing fireballs at Barranza from the side, he forced the other vampire to defend himself or die. Marc’s pain speared through Christian when Barranza succeeded in closing the distance, aiming that deadly blade at Marc’s belly, but he danced away easily, and Cibor stepped in, matching Barranza blade for blade.
A tingling awareness spun Christian around a moment too late. Taking advantage of Christian’s preoccupation, Hubert renewed his attack. Fed by his remaining zombie vamps, who were dying around him in waves, he gathered all of his remaining strength, and threw it at Christian in a single, boulder-sized ball of power.
Christian groaned when it crashed into his shields. That fucking hurt! He stumbled to one side, and nearly went down, cursing himself the whole time for getting sidetracked, grateful that his shields had managed to protect him. No more distractions. Marc and Cibor could more than hold their own against Barranza. His job was to get rid of Hubert. The European was the key to everything.
Hubert had to die.
Christian stared at his enemy through shuttered eyelids, his lips stretched into a grim smile as he gathered his power and considered his options. His thoughts churned over everything he’d learned in the last few minutes, everything he’d known about Hubert before this clusterfuck got started. Foremost was the realization that Hubert’s shields were weaker than they should be, much weaker than he’d expected. He shouldn’t have been able to get through them with that neck strike early on in the fight. He knew he could use that, if he could only think how. And he had to think quickly. As powerful as he was, his strength wasn’t endless. He was still hurting from Hubert’s successful attacks, and his gut felt like it had been chewed up and shoved back into his skin.
An idea blinked to life. He needed to turn the tables on Hubert, to distract him just long enough for his plan to work. Because if he failed, they would all die.
He started forward grimly, closing the space between them once again, intent on taking away the security of distance. Hubert shouted his defiance and charged ahead, his teeth bared in confidence as he brandished a sword of pure, sparkling energy before him. Howling in victory, he stabbed Christian repeatedly, easily penetrating his shields and piercing his already damaged gut.
Christian staggered, grunting in pain. He’d counted on Hubert’s response and anticipated the strike, but not the agony. Had he thought the earlier attack had hurt? That was nothing compared to this. Forcing himself to concentrate, he gathered his remaining strength for one final blow, putting everything he had left into it. Curling his right hand into a fist, he crashed through Hubert’s shields and struck his chest right over his heart with the full force of his power. The blow was hard enough to shatter ribs, hard enough to stop Hubert’s heart for a few precious seconds.
Hubert’s eyes flashed
wide and he fell to his knees, gasping for air. No heart pumping meant no blood flowing, and no vampire symbiote racing through his body. It sent his entire system into chaos for a brief moment, giving Christian just enough time to utilize the unique power that was his alone, the power granted him on the night he became vampire. He wrapped his fingers around Hubert’s throat and squeezed, draining his power along with his life, drinking it up to bolster his own flagging strength. The infusion of power bumped Christian’s strength to unheard-of levels. It wouldn’t last forever, but it was his for now. And more importantly, it was no longer Hubert’s.
Hubert stared, life fading from his eyes as he gazed up at Christian. “What did you do?” he whispered. And then he smiled, almost in admiration. “Mathilde never told me.”
“Mathilde never knew,” Christian said flatly. He opened his fingers and released the vampire lord’s neck as his body became nothing more than dust mixing with the corpses of his army.
Christian spun back just in time to see Marc slice Barranza’s neck with his own blade, then shift his grip, and stab him in the heart. Marc sagged to one knee, and Christian started for him, but stopped when the fine hairs on the back of his neck all came to sudden attention.
Christian (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 10) Page 31
