Rajmund

by D. B. Reynolds

  She watched her friend dash off between the buildings, thinking about vampires and the dark, windowless room Regina had woken up in. The kind of room in which a vampire might choose to hide his victims.

  Later that afternoon, Sarah sat in her home office, hunched in front of her computer, staring intently at the monitor, waiting for the secrets of the universe to be revealed. Or at least the next chapter of the book that was supposed to get her tenure. Unfortunately, there was nothing but a blank screen staring back at her. When the monitor reverted to her screen saver, she jerked back in surprise. How long had she been sitting here lost in thought? She pushed away from her desk with a sigh, not even bothering to save her work. She hadn't typed more than a hundred words and none of it was worth keeping. Her stomach growled, reminding her it had been hours since lunch.

  She thumped noisily down the weirdly narrow stairway, heading for the kitchen. The duplex she lived in had once been a single home. When someone had divided it in two, they'd made her half slightly smaller, with the cut right down the middle of the existing staircase, leaving each unit with a squished set of stairs, like something you'd see leading to an attic that no one ever used. Fortunately, Sarah was petite, five-foot-four in her stocking feet, if the socks were thick —although her much taller brothers had simply called her Shrimp. She wasn't skinny, but she was fit and toned, so who cared about a number on the scale?

  Rounding the newel post at the bottom, she scuffed her way in stockinged feet to the kitchen and pulled open her freezer door. A dazzling array of Tupperware containers greeted her, all carefully labeled, courtesy of her landlady Mrs. Maglietto. Mrs. M. had sort of adopted Sarah, when she'd discovered there was no family nearby. An inveterate gossip, she always seemed to know when Sarah was coming and going, and frequently met her on the porch with whatever casserole she or one of her many daughters had prepared that day. Sarah didn't mind. She'd been close to her family before everything fell apart. Sometimes she missed that sense of belonging, of knowing someone cared about her, that they'd miss her if she died . . . or if she was taken by one of the human monsters who haunted her dreams.

  Sarah shivered, and realized she was still standing in front of her open freezer lost in thought. First her computer and now the freezer. Next she'd be drifting off while driving her car. She had to figure out a way to deal with the dreams before she suffered something more drastic than freezer burn. She slammed the freezer door and took a yogurt from the refrigerator instead, staring out the window as she spooned it into her mouth, barely aware she was eating. There had to be some way she could find out what the police knew. She could call Linda's cousin, of course, but what would she say? Even if he remembered her, she couldn't imagine he'd be eager to spill all the secrets of his investigation. After all, who was she? An Assistant Professor of History at the university, hardly an expert on . . .

  Her spoon clattered into the sink. Why hadn't she thought of that sooner? Hadn't she just spent the weekend with two of the most powerful vampires in the country? And wasn't her best friend practically married to one of them? She'd call Linda's cousin. She didn't know his last name, but that'd be easy enough to find out. She'd call him and offer her services as a vampire expert. Well, maybe not an expert, but a resource. There was probably nothing to the rumors anyway, but that wasn't the point. It would give her a chance to find out what the police knew without giving herself away. And anyway, who else could the police turn to if they had questions about vampires? The real vampires were all in Manhattan. She'd seen them in Raj's club. What self-respecting vampire would live in Buffalo when he had Manhattan to play in?

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  Chapter Ten

  The sun went down and the vampires rose. Raj opened his eyes to the instant knowledge of where he was and how he'd gotten there. And hunger. He'd left the city in such a hurry last night that there'd been no time to eat a full meal. Normally, he kept a supply of bagged blood in the bar refrigerator here for emergencies, but his last visit to Buffalo had been weeks ago and the refrigerator was empty of everything but ice. Which meant, Krystof be damned, Raj's first order of business was finding a willing donor. Demented or not, Krystof was a powerful vampire, and Raj had no intention of meeting him at anything but his best.

  Besides, finding a woman shouldn't be difficult in this part of town, even on a Wednesday night. It was one of the reasons he'd built his lair here.

  He stood and headed for the bathroom, groaning at the stiffness in his neck. He'd fallen facedown into bed this morning, which always left him feeling a little mean when he woke up. He twisted his neck with a loud crack of vertebrae and stared at his reflection in the mirror as he began to shave. He'd had a mustache, when he was human, and hair down to his shoulders. Now his face was bare and his thick, blond hair barely touched his collar. He turned on the shower and let steam fill the bathroom before stepping under the steady spray—one of the greatest inventions of modern man.

  As the hot water pummeled away his uncomfortable day's sleep, he thought about Krystof and what this latest crisis might be. The old man had very little contact with the world outside his own small circle these days. He'd lived in Buffalo for hundreds of years, the last ninety of them in a big, turn-of-the-century house in the Delaware Park section of town. A fear of fire had forced him to rewire the entire building some years ago, but there was no television, no sound system and just one computer, which was used by his minions to monitor security.

  Remarkably, Krystof also owned an entire penthouse floor in a downtown high rise, with both offices and bedroom suites. But he never used it, unless there were visitors to impress—which meant once every eight years when it was his turn to host the annual meeting of the North American Vampire Council.

  As for the city itself, Buffalo had once been fat and satisfied, its steel mills and ports thriving and new people arriving all the time. Raj had come here four decades before the American civil war, looking for a different future than that offered by his own country, which was being slowly torn apart by competing foreign interests. Pure chance had brought him into contact with Krystof, who had already been a vampire for centuries by then. Krystof was the first master vampire to travel to the new world. With no competition, he had established his own territory and made himself a vampire lord. And he had been constantly on the lookout for potential recruits from his native Poland, men who were accustomed to the hierarchy of nobility and would not chafe under his rule. That the men he recruited didn't always volunteer to serve him didn't matter. Once they were turned, like Raj, they had little choice.

  Unfortunately, Lord Krystof's fortunes were, of necessity, tied to the city's, and Buffalo's heyday was far in the past. Krystof's refusal to see the truth of the decline, to move his seat of power to Manhattan or one of the other profitable Northeastern cities, was an indication of how out of touch he was; but his failure to maintain order in the territory was far more serious. Raj wasn't the only vampire who'd begun siring an army of loyal followers. If nothing was done, the Northeast would soon be a honeycomb of fiefdoms, weakening the whole until it shattered into pieces—or attracted the attention of some strong outsider who would come in and do a little permanent dusting.

  When the shower's water began to lose its heat, Raj turned it off and stepped out, wrapping himself in a big towel and drying off as he strolled over to his closet. His choice of clothing usually ran to black denims and leather jackets, especially in cold weather. But tonight, he pulled out a charcoal worsted wool suit instead. Krystof would be pleased. And for right now, that was Raj's goal. He wanted the vampire lord smug and complacent in his own power, totally unprepared for the not-too-distant day when Raj made his move. He tossed the towel away and began to dress. His hunger was growing by the minute. It was time to hunt.

  The woman moaned softly as Raj drank, the chemicals in his saliva turning the experience into one of orgasmic pleasure for her, instead of the brutal act it really was. Raj slowly withdrew his fangs from her neck and
ran his tongue sensuously over the two small puncture wounds, speeding coagulation and healing. He licked his mouth and teeth, savoring the bouquet of her blood before retracting his fangs into his gums. Her blood was sweet with youth and warmed by the rum she'd drunk earlier.

  He heard voices and moved quickly, hiding her small body behind his bulk as two waiters came down the dark hallway toward them, keeping his back turned until they were gone. He then walked the groggy woman back into the crowded main room, skirting the edge of the dance floor to an empty booth. She'd awaken soon, probably a little embarrassed at the obvious evidence of her orgasm. But there would be no memory of Raj and no lasting or negative effects. He'd taken only what he needed, less than if she'd donated at the local Red Cross. He strode out to his car, feeling strong and alive once again. It was still early, although no doubt later than Krystof would have preferred. But the old vampire lord's house was only a short drive and whatever waited for him there, he would now face it at full strength.

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  Chapter Eleven

  The BMW responded readily when he turned onto Delaware Avenue, and he had to force himself to back off the accelerator. That was the danger of drinking too well. It left him feeling high and invincible, never a good combination when facing one's Sire.

  He went in through the back door, nodding to the two guards stationed just inside the house—their faces were familiar, and they clearly recognized him, although he didn't know their names. He swung through the empty kitchen and into the hallway, where he took the basement stairs downward, resisting the urge to take them two at a time.

  The room below was crowded with vampires, but they were little more than a wall of meat between Krystof and whoever came down the stairs. Krystof preferred to surround himself with weaklings, vampires who presented no challenge to the vampire lord's authority. If the old man had known ahead of time how powerful Raj would turn out to be, he probably would have drunk him dry and left him for the undertaker all those years ago.

  But the truth was no one knew the full extent of Raj's power, not even Emelie. He kept it carefully shuttered for the most part, using only what he needed to get the job done. It was dangerous enough that Krystof considered him a threat. There was no reason to advertise just how much of a threat he really was. Of course, it was Raj's strength that brought him to the vampire lord's lair this evening. He'd had a chance to think about Krystof's abrupt summons, and that scenario was the only one that made sense. Whatever was going down in Buffalo, it was serious enough that Krystof wanted Raj's power at his back. Raj only hoped he'd survive whatever it was.

  One of the newer vamps—a bulky Latino male Raj had never seen before—emerged from the crowd and thrust out his considerable chest in challenge. He was physically imposing, but registered not even a trickle on the power scale, which was all that mattered. Raj studied the younger vampire through half-lidded eyes and gave him a lazy smile. “Jozef,” he drawled as he looked over the idiot's shoulder. “If you value this pup, you better call him to heel right now."

  Across the room, Krystof's head of security looked up and swore as the pup in question shoved himself into Raj's face with a snarl.

  "Morales, you fucking idiot, stand down,” Jozef snapped. He crossed the basement and shoved at the vampire's thick chest. Morales stiffened against the push and only stared harder.

  Raj chuckled. “This one might be too stupid to live. You sure you want to save him?"

  "I said stand the fuck down.” Jozef shoved harder, sending the other vampire crashing through the crowd to smash into the hard wall on the other side. At Jozef's nod, two of the others held the idiot back when he would have rushed right back into the fray. The security chief shook his head in disgust. “Sorry about that, Raj. He's so new we have to lock him up at sunrise or he'll stand out there and watch the pretty lights in the sky."

  "Maybe you should put him down then, do us all a favor. What's he doing here?"

  "Krystof likes him."

  Across the room, Morales grinned at him in triumph, but Raj only laughed. The puppy obviously didn't know it, but Krystof's favor meant a vampire was too stupid or too weak to pose even the tiniest threat.

  "Our master's waiting for you,” Jozef said. Which meant Raj was late and Krystof was pissed.

  Raj shrugged, unconcerned. “It was late when he called last night. I barely made it into town before dawn, and I needed to eat. What's this about?"

  "Rajmund."

  Every vampire in the room—except for Raj—went down on one knee as Krystof appeared in the doorway to his office. The kneeling was an affectation he insisted upon, and one Raj hadn't granted him in years.

  "Sire,” Raj said with a bend of his neck, nothing more. He lifted his head and met Krystof's gaze directly, daring him to force the issue.

  The vampire lord's thin mouth tightened briefly before curving into an insincere smile. “It's good to see you again, Rajmund.” His voice was strong and even, which meant he'd probably just fed. Over the last few years, it had become apparent that Krystof was feeding more and more often. It was another sign of his growing weakness, that he was reverting to a schedule closer to that of a newborn than a vamp of his considerable age and power. When he was hungry, his speech would become hesitant and uncertain like an aging human's, although he never looked old. It wasn't his body that was aging. It was his mind.

  "Do come in,” he said now, sweeping his hand across his body in a graceful gesture of invitation. He started back into his office, but stopped, frowning as he gave Jozef a pointed look. “Clear this room, Jozef. Rajmund and I will require privacy."

  The security chief rose from his kneeling position and stared moodily at their master's departing back. A long minute later, he turned his head and gave Raj an unreadable look before giving the vampire closest to them a quick push. “Everyone upstairs,” he barked.

  Raj shrugged, gave the fuming Morales a wink and strolled through the doorway to Krystof's inner sanctum.

  Krystof was alone but for a young woman lolling on an elaborate, velvet settee against one wall. She was half-naked, her blouse hanging open on small, pale breasts, her skirt scrunched up nearly to her waist and her underwear gone, if there had ever been any. Fresh blood, red and wet, seeped lazily from the big vein on her neck and she was humming softly, a dreamy expression on her face as she twirled a lock of purple-streaked hair with one finger.

  "Lovely, isn't she?"

  Raj swung his attention immediately over to the vampire lord, irritated that he'd permitted himself to be distracted by the human female. Distraction could be deadly in Krystof's presence, no matter that the old man was half senile. “Young,” he commented. But then Krystof had always liked them young.

  Krystof bared his teeth in a grin that showed far more than a hint of fang. “Over eighteen and plucked from one of the blood houses, so you know she's legal.” He turned his back and walked silently across the deep pile carpeting to sit behind a fussy antique writing table with inlays so beautiful that even Raj could appreciate them. Velvet curtains in a full, rich red hung behind the vampire lord's desk—purely for effect since there no windows in any of the basement rooms. The remaining walls were bordered by a deep mahogany wainscoting against subdued satin wall paper.

  Krystof seated himself on a delicate chair and folded his soft-looking hands on the leather-trimmed blotter. His long, dark hair was bound with a black, velvet ribbon, framing an unlined face and brown eyes which were remarkably clear, showing no signs of stress as he gazed up at Raj expectantly. Raj was reminded of an old, Russian saying about a person whose face was untouched by the wind. It referred to someone unmarked by the hardships of life, and it wasn't a compliment. Here was a vampire lord who had lived for centuries, who had enslaved hundreds, if not thousands, of both humans and vampires, who killed brutally for no reason but his own convenience. And yet, there he sat, the picture of a pampered young aristocrat whose hands had never been soiled by anything so crude as blood.<
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  Raj stared at this creature who had so changed his own life and was nearly overcome by the urge to leap across the desk and choke the unnatural life from him.

  "Why am I here?” he growled.

  Across the desk, Krystof's lips tightened and he cocked his head in rebuke. “Do not presume too far, Rajmund. I am still master here.” His eyes went abruptly flat, and Raj realized they could do it right now, decide this thing between them once and for all. But not with all of his own supporters hundreds of miles away in Manhattan, while Krystof sat beneath a house full of minions whose very lives depended on his continued existence. They would defend him to the death out of a raw instinct to survive, no matter their feelings about him personally.

  Raj lowered his eyes and bent his head briefly. “My apologies, my lord."

  Krystof smiled graciously, the benevolent lord with his servant. Raj ground his teeth so hard he thought the old vampire could surely hear it.

  "So,” Krystof began in the bored, dulcet tones of a born aristocrat. “Tell me what Raphael wanted."

  Raj looked up and shrugged carelessly. “A holiday in Manhattan for his mate."

  Krystof frowned. “Why New York?"

  "Shopping, I suppose. That's what she and her friend did all day. “

  "Is there no shopping in Los Angeles?"

  "The friend works in New York, here in Buffalo, as a matter of fact. She teaches at the University. As for Raphael's mate . . .” Raj hooked an uncomfortable-looking chair over with one foot and slouched down onto it. “She's a rich American and clearly used to having her own way. Raphael indulges her."

  "Does he?"

  Krystof's note of interest sharpened Raj's attention, although he was careful not to show it. “To a point,” he clarified. “She's quite beautiful."

  The old vampire lord laughed. “So even Raphael has a weakness. I never thought I'd see the day."

  Raj didn't say anything. If Krystof wanted to believe Raphael's mate, Cynthia, made him weaker somehow, that was his choice. Raj had seen enough this weekend to know that while the Western Vampire Lord clearly loved the human woman, he hadn't let down his guard at all. If anything, he might be more secure now than ever. Having finally met her, Raj was inclined to believe many of the rumors he'd heard about Cyn's determination and her willingness to kill if necessary. And he had no doubt she'd defend Raphael to her death, if that's what it took. As for Raphael, only a fool would think to bring harm to Cynthia and survive.