Raj raised his head to catch Cervantes's gaze before shifting enough to cast a lazy glance at a section of the cheap, paneled wainscoting lining the dreary room. Cervantes's eyes widened and he studied the paneling carefully, running a thick-fingered hand along the surface until he found what he was looking for. He looked over his shoulder at Raj, who shook his head briefly before returning his attention to the dying Byron.
"What a waste, By,” he said with real regret. “I would have protected you.” He stood with a slight gesture and watched dispassionately as Byron crumbled to dust at his feet. He brushed his hands together briskly and jerked his chin up in a signal to Cervantes.
The big vampire closed his hand into a fist and smashed it into the wainscoting, eliciting a scream of surprise and fear from Nina who was huddled deep inside her hidey-hole. Cervantes reached in and dragged her out with no more compassion than he'd shown Byron, holding her by the scruff of her neck so that she dangled in front of him. “What shall I do with this, my lord?
Raj's lip curled up in distaste as he touched the weeping woman's mind. Her thoughts were chaotic with fear, scattering before him like leaves in the wind. He caught an image of Sarah and clung to it, wrenching the memory from Nina's brain with no care for the damage he might do. He saw the abductors, saw his human guard fall trying to shove Sarah back to safety, saw her thrown into the back seat as the battle raged all around. But he knew all of this. He searched the muddle that was Nina's brain once more and found what he was looking for. A phone call, the voice on the other end. One that Raj recognized.
He withdrew from Nina's awareness, his power shoving her away like the distasteful piece of meat she was. She fell into the puddle of dust and blood that had been Byron and tried to push herself up, staring at the bloody goop on her hands and shrieking in horror when she realized what it must be. She scrambled away on all fours, leaving red streaks behind as she huddled against the wall, eyes wild as she gibbered madly.
"My lord,” Em said from behind him. “Shall I—"
"No,” he said sharply. “Leave her as she is."
"But—"
Raj spun and studied his lieutenant with eyes that glowed a deep, frosty blue. Everyone stilled, the only noise the insane mutterings of a madwoman and the sound of Em dropping to one knee.
"Forgive me, my lord."
He let her stay there to the count of three breaths and then strode from the room. “We're going to Krystof's,” he said flatly.
His vampires rushed to follow, several cutting ahead of him to serve as a vanguard against any enemies who might have anticipated their moves and lay in wait outside. Raj frowned, but recognized the necessity. It was one he'd have to get used to from now on. Assuming he survived this night.
Krystof's house looked the same as it always did. An aging mansion with shuttered windows and a driveway full of late model cars. Raj stood on the street, his power tamped down once again—there was no reason to shout out his presence to the vampire lord. Although between his blowup earlier and his confrontation with Byron, the old man had to know he was coming, especially once he'd taken Sarah. But it was the very normalcy of the house that troubled him. He'd expected more resistance, a frontline of defense, something to give Krystof advance warning and spend Raj's resources, weakening him before he ever entered the house.
He felt Em come up behind him. “What's wrong with this picture?” he asked.
"It's too quiet,” she replied immediately. “I'd expect Krystof to set his frontline far away from his precious self.” She nodded at the vampire lord's house. “I've seen more security than this at a frat house."
Raj smiled tightly. “Been to many of those, Em?"
"A few,” she acknowledged. “Those well-fed young men are always so eager to share."
He snorted in amusement. “I'll take two in with me."
"My lord . . . Raj, I—"
"I need you out here, Em."
She sighed and waved over her shoulder. Cervantes and Yossi stepped up and took up positions to either side of him. Raj gave Em a sideways look.
"They drew straws for the honor,” she said.
He snorted, thinking that accompanying one's Sire into possible death was hardly much of an honor. “I do appreciate the thought, gentlemen."
Cervantes gave him a grin, while Yossi nodded silently. Both eyed the silent house eagerly, muscles taut with the effort of remaining still, eyes gleaming in the street lights.
"We'll go in the back again,” Raj said coolly. “If my previous visits are anything to go by . . .” He lifted his head to indicate the house in front of them with a smirk. “. . . I don't think we'll have a problem. You can flank me however you want, until . . .” He shifted his gaze, making eye contact with each of them, marveling that he could earn the staunch loyalty of such strong, capable vampires. “Until,” he repeated, continuing in a softer voice, “we reach Krystof's inner sanctum. At that point, I proceed alone."
He saw their uneasy reactions and smiled. “I understand your concerns,” he said and raised his eyes to include Emelie in his words. “But it must be this way. Emelie?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Remember your promise."
Her eyes filled with pink tears, but she nodded once, sharply. “Yes, my lord."
He gazed around at the assembled vampires and noted with some surprise the number of human guards who'd chosen to accompany them. He hadn't noticed them at Byron's, which meant someone had called them. He glanced over and saw Emelie avoiding his gaze. He shook his head in amazement. She was a rare gem, his Emelie.
He raised his head and let his power flow, reveling in the unparalleled rush of exhilaration as it spun outward into the night, announcing his presence to Krystof and to anyone else in range with the ability to detect such things. He breathed deeply and the air filling his lungs tasted as sweet and pure as any breath he'd ever drawn. His awareness stretched lazily, like a cat rising from an afternoon nap, his senses taking in the night around him. The beating of his vampires’ hearts surrounded him like a timpani concerto, those of his human followers weaker but just as true. He closed his eyes against the overload of sensation, the tempting intoxication, and then opened them again with a clear purpose.
"Let's not keep Krystof waiting."
He swept around the house and into the kitchen, surprising three vampires who looked like they'd been caught on a blood run to the refrigerator. They stared at him in shock, only belatedly putting up a weak resistance. Raj brushed them away with a bare wisp of his power, slamming them against the walls and cabinets, draining their power and leaving them lying on the floor in a stupor. This was the price Krystof paid for choosing only the weak and stupid for his minions. Barely slowed by the encounter, Raj strode deeper into the house and down the stairs.
The basement was pandemonium. Warned by his approach through the kitchen, several of Krystof's brutish defenders rushed to the foot of the stairs, full of bristling intent and raging testosterone, but there was no organization to their assault. They seemed directionless, like pinballs in a machine, bouncing back and forth, not knowing whether to charge the intruder or retreat to defend their master's inner sanctum. Between them, Cervantes and Yossi handled the initial assault, and Raj easily overpowered the rest. He stood on the lower step and surveyed the wreckage, wondering once again at the vampire lord's meager resistance. And where was Jozef?
He shook his head. These things no longer mattered. The challenge had been well and truly rung now, and there was no going back. He crossed the room quickly and slammed the door open without ceremony. Krystof was hunched on his elaborate settee, his face buried in the bloodied neck of a young woman. He reared back at Raj's abrupt entry, mouth open in a furious snarl, fangs dripping blood down the lacy, white linen of his shirt. Raj barely registered the vampire lord's anger, his eyes filled instead with the sight of the woman's long, blond hair, her graceful, bare legs hanging limply to the floor, one white arm reaching out, her hand open in entreaty.
He roared, taking the room in two hard strides and tearing the woman from Krystof's grasp. Her hair fell away and he stared at an unfamiliar face. Relief surged through him that this wasn't Sarah lying dead in his arms, followed by guilt that he could find any relief in this woman's senseless death. He lifted his gaze and found the vampire lord who had killed her standing before him, his mouth open in a disgusting parody of laughter.
"You think to unseat me, Rajmund?” he taunted scornfully. His eyes shone like twin flames against his blackened soul as he gave his power free rein, letting it swell until the house groaned with the pressure, furniture flying against the walls and shattering into pieces as if a hurricane had risen fully formed in the center of the small room. But even that wasn't enough. A surge of almost electric power jolted the room as Krystof reached out to his minions, ripping their defenses away and sucking them dry, stealing what strength they had and weaving it into a seemingly impenetrable cocoon of protection for himself.
"You're nothing but a wharf rat,” he snarled at Raj. “I was born to rule centuries before you were born, and I will rule for centuries after you've blown away in the wind along with your pitiful collection of children.” He sneered the last word, flinging it into Raj's face like a gob of spittle.
Raj flexed his will, massing his own power with a sure, smooth elegance. It grew like the first wave of a great storm, raging higher, denser, drawing strength from that impossible place within himself, that reservoir of vampiric power that made the difference between a minion and a lord. He reached out and was aware of Cervantes and Yossi standing untouched just outside the office door, of Emelie on the street above channeling the power of every one of his vampires, both here and in far away Manhattan. She gathered even the meager life force of his human guards, sheltering them all even as she offered a lifeline of power for him to draw upon in need.
He knew his eyes had begun to burn with their cold, blue fire, and he smiled, seeing comprehension dawn on his Sire's face. “Talk is cheap, my lord."
Krystof struck without warning, cracking the defensive cocoon of his power to launch a battering ram of pure energy across the small room. Raj grunted as it hit him, feeling his own strength dip beneath the lethal attack, giving way without breaking, flowing around Krystof's spear of power, consuming it, absorbing it into himself so that it left him stronger than before, not weaker. The vampire lord's eyes widened in shock and he strove viciously to pull back, straining to break free of Raj's might before he found himself sucked as dry as his own minions.
Raj reached out a hand and sliced downward, as if brushing away a clinging bit of flotsam. He felt a jolt of energy as his power closed around him once again, and he saw Krystof reel backwards, staggering slightly against the rubble that had once been his desk. But the old man wasn't finished. He was a vampire lord, not some overreaching slave who could be dismissed with a quick flex of power. He stood straight, arms outstretched, hands fisted as if gathering lightening from the very air. He thundered his challenge, rattling the walls and slamming a solid wall of energy across the room, crashing into Raj like tons of unforgiving stone, driving him back, forcing him to his knees. Raj howled in defiance, furious at his stupidity, his towering pride. He'd been so supremely certain of his own superiority, so swaggering in his arrogance. While he was laughing at the old man's efforts, Krystof had seized the initiative and was battering him with volley after volley of lethal force. He felt himself weakening beneath the unrelenting attack, while Krystof grew stronger, draining more and more of his minions, reaching to the ends of his territory, his very ruthlessness his greatest advantage.
Raj could hear Emelie screaming in his head, demanding he take what she offered, begging him when her demands went unheard. He thought of his vampire children, of Cervantes and Danny, of Yossi and his Angel. Of Emelie. What would happen to them, what vengeance would Krystof exact against his people for their master's arrogance? Unacceptable.
He opened himself to the flow of Emelie's power, drinking from the combined strength of his many children, letting his rage fuel his determination as he surged to his feet with a roar that threatened to bring the house down around them. He pummeled Krystof with blasts of power, one after the other, refusing to permit the vampire lord to dictate the terms of this encounter. He fought back in his own way, attacking from every side, forcing Krystof to defend against volleys from all around. The vampire lord howled, desperately fighting to recreate his impenetrable cocoon even as Raj's power ate away at its very fabric.
Krystof dropped finally to his knees in a last ditch defense, sucking power into himself like a vacuum, giving up any attempt to attack in favor of simple survival. When even that failed, he looked up and met Raj's eyes, his mouth open in a bloody grin, the fires in his eyes dying to faint embers. “I wish you joy of it,” he said, and then laughed, howling like a madman as Raj drew his outstretched arms into his body until they were held before him like two fisted pillars of energy. Krystof screamed in agony as a terrible weight crushed him to the floor, every bone in his body cracking beneath the unbearable pressure, joints tearing and lungs bursting, blood seeping from every pore, every orifice, as his body seemed to fold in upon itself. Raj opened one fist wide, his skin whitening with strain, until he snapped the fist closed and Krystof's heart burst into flame within his chest.
The air in the room grew suddenly still, not a whisper of movement, not a speck of dust so much as drifted, and then like a vacuum collapsing in an instant, Krystof's body vaporized and disappeared, becoming no more than a pile of dust and bloody linen on the carpet.
Raj closed himself away from Emelie and fell to his knees, his head falling forward to his chest in exhaustion as he drew a deep breath . . . and screamed in agony. His mind was suddenly filled with thousands of voices as every living vampire in the territory clamored in fear, reaching out to him for sustenance, for protection, for their very lives. He was aware of the office door flying open, of Cervantes and Yossi rushing in to surround him, joining their power in an effort to buffer the overwhelming demands of Raj's new subjects. He rocked slowly back and forth, muscles straining, tendons standing out on his neck as he strove to make sense of what was happening, to bring some semblance of order and reason to the endless cacophony. The wall of power surrounding him grew stronger as Emelie added her own strength, as she channeled the others in carefully, building the wall brick by brick until at last the voices quieted, becoming no more than a steady hum in the background.
Raj remained on his knees, his head hanging forward, chin on his chest. Blood wept from his eyes and welled from his hands where his nails had dug gouges in his palms. He heard voices outside, footsteps pounding down the stairs, and then Emelie was there in the flesh, kneeling next to him.
"My lord?” she said softly. “Raj?” she added urgently, when he didn't respond.
He cracked one eye opened and rasped, “I hate that vampire shit."
She barked a laugh that was more like a sob of relief and called for someone to bring him some blood. More yelling and footsteps, and a bag of warmed blood was thrust into his hand. He ripped it open with his fangs and sucked it down, passing the empty bag and taking another as it was offered until he'd downed six full pints of blood, far more than any single human could have safely provided.
He drew a deep breath and looked at Emelie, his mind clear at last. “Sarah?” he asked her.
"Not in this house, my lord."
Raj swore foully. He'd accessed every filthy corner of Krystof's diseased brain and found nothing there of Sarah's abduction, or of any plot to sell vampire secrets to the drug companies, so where the hell . . .
There was a tumble of footsteps down the basement stairs and more voices arguing. “Damn,” he groaned. “What now?"
Emelie remained by his side, but she spun around into a defensive crouch. Raj looked up and saw nothing but the bodies of his vampires forming a defensive wall between him and whatever was coming. He huffed out a laugh, realizing he'd somehow acquire
d his own wall of meat. He heard Simon's voice raised among the others. Well, at least his wall of meat had a brain. “Let him through, Em."
Simon squeezed between the bulky forms of Raj's guard, dropping into the clear space around him like a glob of toothpaste from a tube. He climbed to his knees and grinned. “My lord."
"Simon,” Raj acknowledged. “Was there something you wanted to tell me?"
"Oh! Yes, my lord. You know I monitor all of the cell phone lines, because one never knows—"
"The point, Simon.” The guy was a technical genius, but got lost in his own explanations sometimes.
"Yes, my lord. Sorry. Well, I noticed one number kept coming into your voice mail. Four calls in less than an hour. Of course, I can't access your voice mail, my lord, that would be—"
"The point?"
"I called the number back and it was Kent from the Amherst blood house. He said to tell you it was Jozef."
Raj froze, staring at his tech expert. “What was his message exactly?” he asked softly.
"He said to tell you he found someone who remembered seeing the girl you were looking for and that she left with Jozef."
"Son of bitch.” Raj stood abruptly. It all made sense now. Krystof hadn't been playing a game. The stupid bastard really hadn't known what was going on right under his nose. And that explained why the security chief hadn't been here to defend his master. But did Jozef really believe he could take on Raj? Had he counted on Raj being so weakened by the battle with Krystof that he'd be more easily defeated? “Emelie,” he said.
"Already on it, my lord,” she replied, busily tapping away at her Blackberry. “He's got a house a couple blocks over, but that's not going to be the place. It's too small. Damn."
"Here, let me.” Simon flipped out his own device. “Here it is. There's a house in Clarence, big sucker on three acres. The title's in his wife's maiden name. That's gotta be it.” He gestured at Em. “I'm sending the address to you."
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