Christian (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 10)

by D. B. Reynolds

  “What the hell was that?” demanded an unfamiliar voice.

  Houston, TX

  NATALIE HADN’T known what else to do, so she’d sat on the bed in her room and worked, digging into Anthony’s files, reading them one by one. Despite her efforts, however, she hadn’t found anything as condemning as the fax Anthony had sent to Vincent. But what she did find didn’t paint a lovely picture of Anthony. He’d been working with an outside accountant, looking for ways to steal money from the territorial accounts without her noticing. Unsuccessfully, of course. She did know her job. But it made her wonder if that was the real reason for his obsession with her. Maybe he’d thought to seduce her into helping him abscond with funds.

  The idea made her shudder in disgust.

  Needing something to cleanse her mind, she got up and walked over to the open bedroom door, intent on going to the kitchen for a snack. She was about to step into the hallway, when the front doorbell rang.

  Natalie stilled, somewhat alarmed at the unexpected sound. She stepped quietly back into the bedroom, then spun around and hurried over to her bed where she’d been working. Slapping her laptop shut, she stared around the bedroom looking for a hiding place. Maybe she was being paranoid, but too many crazy things had been happening lately, and a little paranoia might be a good thing. Under the mattress was too obvious, as were the drawers. Peering behind the elaborate headboard, she saw there was a slight ledge where the headboard met the bed frame, and there was just enough space between the headboard and the wall that it might work. She was on her knees on the bed, shoving the laptop down into the narrow space, when she heard Jaclyn’s heels on the wooden floor heading for the front door.

  With the laptop reasonably secure, she tiptoed over and pulled the bedroom door nearly closed, leaving it open just enough for her to peek down the hall. She watched as Jaclyn checked out their visitor through the peephole, then entered the code—which Natalie had given her for safety reasons—and opened the door.

  Everything happened so fast after that that Natalie had trouble ordering the events in her head. Jaclyn opened the door, greeted someone with a friendly, “What are you doing here?” And then three shots sounded, and Jaclyn stumbled backward, blood blooming on the back of her designer sweater.

  Natalie managed to stifle her gasp. She ducked back into the room and pushed the door nearly closed, just as three vampires rushed into the house. She had to get out of there. Christian had told her the shutters could be opened from inside once the code was entered. She could go out the window, and run until she found a safe place to hide and call Christian. She slid her shoes on, and grabbed her jacket and purse. Acting on impulse, she ripped open the box with the gun that Cynthia Leighton had given her and shoved the gun and a box of ammo into her purse, then slid the box under the bed. She wished she had her cell phone, but it was sitting on the charger in the kitchen. She got the window open and had just cranked the shutter release when the door to her bedroom was pushed open so hard it hit the wall with a loud crack. Natalie spun around, her back pressed to the unopened shutter.

  “Going somewhere, little human?” the vampire asked. He was huge, bulked out with muscle, his eyes cold and mocking. She recognized him vaguely as one of Anthony’s security people. But there were so many vampires around Anthony, she’d never paid attention to them, unless they came into the office.

  “What do you want?” she demanded, trying to be tough. After all, he had no right to be here, but she did.

  He grinned, his fangs on full display. “You,” he said simply.

  She opened her mouth to tell him to go to hell, but he was across the room with his big fingers gripping her arm before she could get the first word out.

  “What are you doing?” She struggled, knowing it was pointless. She had to try.

  “I’m taking you back where you belong,” he growled. “Your little whoring vacation is over. You belong to Lord Anthony.”

  Natalie blushed hotly at his description, even though he was wrong. She didn’t belong to anyone, and she sure as hell wasn’t a whore. But at least she understood what was happening now. Anthony had arranged for Christian to face Hubert alone down in Laredo, hoping and planning for him to die there. And as long as he was gone, Anthony figured he might as well swoop in and claim Natalie, so she could play her part in his ridiculous idea of their future together. He might be a powerful vampire, but he was losing his mind if he thought she would ever agree to live with him. No matter how much he tried to mess with her brain.

  As for the gorilla currently squeezing her arm tightly enough to leave bruises, she knew the Borg from Star Trek had been right. Resistance was futile. So she didn’t try. Her time would come, and she would be ready for it, but that time wasn’t now. Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she gripped the strap tightly, and let him drag her out the door.

  “I’ve got her,” he said, loudly enough that the other two vamps came rushing back from wherever they’d been searching in the big house.

  Natalie almost panicked when she thought about the basement, and about Alon sleeping down there, totally helpless. But then a female vamp came running down the hall and said, “Good thing she wasn’t in the basement. He’s got a fucking vault down there.”

  “Didn’t do him any good now, did it?” her captor sneered. He pulled her to the front door, and she got her first good look at Jaclyn.

  “Jaclyn,” she whispered and tugged at the grip on her arm, wanting to check the female vamp. She’d been shot, but vampires were tough, and Jaclyn was a very strong vampire.

  “She’ll live,” her captor growled. “Don’t want Raphael involved in this.”

  Natalie was pretty sure that just shooting Jaclyn would be enough for Raphael to get involved. But it wasn’t only Raphael that they needed to be concerned about. Jaclyn had bodyguards, including her lover, Cibor. And they wouldn’t take kindly to her being hurt.

  “Let’s go.” He dragged her out the door, not bothering to close it behind him. Natalie thought about Jaclyn lying there vulnerable, and sent a private prayer to whichever god protected vampires that she would be safe.

  Laredo, TX

  CHRISTIAN HEARD the power behind the unfamiliar voice, and braced for one more battle. God, he was tired. He turned to face his enemy . . . and stared. Three SUVs idled in the shadows beyond the yard. All of the doors stood open, and vampire fighters waited in readiness before them. He’d been so engrossed in his fight with Hubert, and then his worry over Marc, that he hadn’t heard their arrival, hadn’t even sensed their presence. He was aware of Marc and Cibor rising to stand at his back, ready to face the newcomers, whoever they were. The tension was thick enough to ripple the air between the two groups, but no one moved.

  Christian studied each vampire in turn, noting their readiness, their discipline as they waited for orders. Their obvious leader was the one who’d spoken. He noted the vamp’s confident posture and watchful eyes, and the depth of his power despite efforts to conceal it. And that quickly, he knew. This was Vincent, Lord of Mexico.

  He bit back a sigh. What the fuck? Wasn’t it enough that he’d had to fight an army of creepy zombie vamps, deal with Barranza’s sneak attack on Marc, and finally kill that asshole Hubert to end it all? Now he had to face down Vincent? The boost gained from Hubert’s power was the only thing keeping him on his feet right now. And that was actually the biggest problem. The talent that had let him drain Hubert was the “what the hell” that Vincent was asking about. No one knew about Christian’s talent, except Marc. He sure as hell hadn’t confided in Mathilde, because she’d have killed him in his sleep if she knew. It was vampirism taken to a deep, dark level, the ability to drink the power of other vampires, the way every vampire drank human blood.

  Christian eyed Vincent carefully, not sure yet if he was friend or foe. “That was me defending my future territory,” he said bluntly, addressing V
incent’s question at face value. And then a thought occurred to him. “It also made me Lord of Lyon in France, if I wanted the territory, which I don’t.”

  Vincent stared back at him, blinking a few times, then he grinned. “Vincent Kuxim,” he said, taking a step closer, and holding out a hand. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get here sooner.”

  Christian regarded the vampire lord, considering. He didn’t know Vincent other than their brief phone conversation, but he knew from Natalie’s discovery that Anthony had sent him on a false trail to make sure Christian faced Hubert alone. They’d both been used by Anthony and Hubert, and that made them allies of a sort. And Christian could use allies. Especially the kind who shared a border with what would soon be his new territory.

  He met Vincent halfway and gripped his hand. “Christian Duvall,” he said. “That was Hubert, by the way,” he said, gesturing in the direction of Hubert’s pile of dust.

  “I guessed as much. Anthony had us chasing him all the way down near Cancun. I don’t know who the sacrificial lamb was that they sent in his place, but he never had a chance.”

  “That seems to be a theme with Anthony and his friends,” Christian said calmly. He was still waiting for Vincent to demand answers about what he’d seen him do to Hubert, but, surprisingly, he didn’t seem to care anymore. That might change once he reported to Raphael, as Christian had no doubt that he would. But that worry was for the future. Right now, he had more important things to think about, like getting Marc away from here, and killing that fucker Anthony.

  “My apologies, Lord Vincent,” he said politely. “But time is short, and Anthony is still at large.” A helicopter sounded in the distance, and Christian glanced back at Cibor, who nodded. He’d called in their transport. “That will be my pilot. We should talk another time. Once the dust settles.”

  Vincent laughed. “Is that any way to talk about Anthony?” he asked cheerfully, but then, his mood changed in an instant. “Don’t worry. If you don’t kill the asshole, I will. No one fucks with me like that.”

  Christian nodded. “Very kind, but I doubt your services will be necessary.”

  As quickly as Vincent’s mood had changed before, it shifted again as an attractive, dark-haired woman walked up to him, and he slung an arm around her shoulders. “My fiancée, Lana,” he said. “Querida, this is Christian Duvall, our new neighbor.” He shifted his attention to Christian again. “You should come to our wedding. Bring your woman, if you have one. I’ll send you an invite.”

  Christian blinked, not knowing what to say. First, vampire lords did not get married, they mated. And secondly, he barely knew the couple. But what the hell?

  “I look forward to it,” he said, then shook hands with Vincent once again, before the Mexican vampire lord signaled his people, and they all climbed back into the waiting SUVs.

  Christian waited until the three big vehicles had disappeared back into Mexico, then glanced over at Marc who was standing next to him, one arm banded protectively over his gut. Christian pulled him into an embrace, using the contact to share some of Hubert’s power and speed his healing.

  Marc strengthened almost at once. Christian drew back, but kept a hand on his shoulder. “He invited us to his wedding,” he said, still puzzled by the encounter.

  “I heard. You going to go?”

  Christian thought about it. “I think I will. I’ll take Natalie, and you, too.”

  “Should be interesting.” Marc turned as the helicopter settled to the ground. “Are we going after Anthony tonight?”

  “Hell, yes. I need to find whatever hole that bastard crawled into, and then I need to kill him. By the time the next sun rises, I’ll be Lord of the South.”

  Cibor helped load the badly injured Scoville into the helicopter, then climbed in after him. Another shot of Christian’s blood would have helped him heal, but he was going to have to do it the old-fashioned way this time. Christian had no blood to spare. A gnawing certainty was telling him that this battle wasn’t over yet. Something else had happened. Something they hadn’t anticipated.

  He glanced over and saw Cibor on the phone. It was nearly impossible to have a conversation with the helicopter noise, but maybe he was texting, or checking messages. Which reminded him . . . he pulled out his own phone, and saw there were multiple calls from Natalie. He listened to the most recent one, and heard her warning him about Anthony, and that Vincent wouldn’t be coming. He experienced an unexpected warmth, pride for what she’d accomplished with her stolen files. Without her discovery, Cibor wouldn’t have shown up at the critical moment, and his presence had made a huge difference. Plus, Christian’s encounter with Vincent might have turned out very differently, if he hadn’t already known that Anthony had misdirected him.

  Speaking of Cibor, however, he noticed the vamp scowling at his cell phone as if he was thinking about chucking it out the door. Clicking on the comm channel, he gestured to get Cibor’s attention, and pointed at his headset. Cibor reached up and clicked his on.

  “Something wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” Cibor said, obviously troubled. “I have a really bad feeling, and I can’t reach Jaclyn.”

  “Bad cell connection?” Christian asked, hating the coincidence, and sensing his own bad feeling growing ominously.

  “No. It goes right to her voicemail. And she never does that with me.”

  “Could she be in a meeting?”

  Cibor shook his head. “She was going to stay at the house with Natalie.”

  At the mention of Natalie’s name, Christian’s fear solidified into knowledge. Something was wrong. He switched over to the pilot’s channel and asked him to speed it up. Whatever the cost, he’d pay it. He needed to get back to Houston.

  Houston, TX

  NATALIE DIDN’T protest all the way back to Anthony’s estate. She was a little surprised that was where they took her, but apparently Anthony was so confident in his scheme to kill Christian that he thought the house was safe for him again.

  The vamps dragged her out of the Suburban, although dragged was probably too harsh a word. They were being very careful, for all that she was a prisoner. Probably more of Anthony’s orders. He had this image of her as a delicate flower who would bruise if you touched her too hard, and she wasn’t about to enlighten him.

  The only real surprise was when they herded her to the stairs down to the basement, instead of up to the office. She’d never been down here. At least, not to the part that was occupied. Like everyone else, she’d seen the half of the basement that was empty—big spaces and white walls. Not much to see.

  But that wasn’t where her captors were taking her. They turned right at the bottom of the stairs, passing through a set of doors that looked like normal heavy wood. But if you looked closely—as Natalie did because she was thinking of her escape—you could see the panels had a thick metal core. They were open now, but would probably close before sunrise just like Christian’s shutters. Natalie didn’t plan on being here that long.

  A short walk, and they hit a branching. To the left was a long hallway with multiple rooms on both sides. But they went right, down a short passage with a single room at the end. Natalie guessed this led to Anthony’s private quarters. At least she hoped so, because it would be much easier to break out of that than a prison cell. She could deal with a wooden door, but not a set of iron bars. Lock picking was not something they’d covered in her finance classes.

  One of her guards went ahead of her, and it was obvious from the moment she stepped inside that she’d been right—these were definitely Anthony’s quarters. The room was decorated much the way his office had been, except for the self-congratulatory photos hanging on the walls. The style was old New Orleans, with rich fabrics and dark woods, and the furniture looked like it might be antique.

  Her guards didn’t linger, but kept her moving throu
gh the outer room, pulling her into a small office that had only a desk and two chairs. An oil painting of the New Orleans harbor circa mid-1800s hung on the wall above the desk, and bookshelves lined the rest. Her guards shoved her down into one of the chairs and left her there, closing and locking the door with an obnoxiously loud click when they left.

  Natalie stuck her tongue out at the door, then waited a few minutes and tiptoed over to listen. Vampires were stealthy, so she didn’t expect to hear their footsteps, but even vampires had conversations, and their clothes made noise like everyone else’s when they shifted around. She listened intently, with her ear to the nonexistent crack between the doors, but she didn’t hear anything. What troubled her, though, was that she hadn’t heard the outer door close. That could mean all kinds of things, from her guards leaving it open, to them sitting right outside, or simply a really quiet latch.

  She wished she knew which one it was, but it didn’t really matter. Because she had a gun, and she knew how to use it.

  Going over to the desk, she set her purse down carefully, not wanting the heavy gun to make a sound, just in case. With a furtive glance at the door, she pulled the Glock pistol out, released the magazine as quietly as she could, then checked the weapon over. She would have felt better if she’d had a chance to take it to the gun range before putting her life on the line, but it seemed in good order. And from everything she’d heard about Cynthia Leighton, she doubted the woman would send her anything but a fully functional weapon. She loaded the mag with the Hydra-Shok ammo and slapped it back in, masking the slight noise with a loud cough.

  With the gun in hand, she went over to the door and examined the lock. Her granddaddy had complained a long time ago about all those movies that showed people shooting out locks. He said any decent lock would be a lot tougher to destroy, while at the same time grumbling that most locks were shit. But Natalie could still hear the loud click of this particular lock engaging, and so she bent over to see exactly what she was dealing with.