Ganriel

by D. B. Reynolds

  She smiled. “Can you cook?”

  “I can burn meat over an open flame.”

  “Yeah, I’ll cook. You clean. It works better that way. Go ahead and shower.”

  HANA PUT THE STEAKS into the cast iron frying pan as soon as she heard the shower turn off. She’d finish them in the oven, which was already hot. Everything else was ready to go. The fish was steamed, the potatoes baked, and all the fixings on the table. It was a lot of food, but until Gabriel got over his stubbornness when it came to blood, he’d have to get his nutrition somewhere. What she knew about vampires came mostly from the casual perusal of popular media and what her roommate’s sister had passed on about the club. Judging by Gabriel’s reaction when she’d offered to serve as a donor, she had a feeling there was more to it than what the sister had passed on. Hana had never had a reason to study vampires in any depth, since the only one she’d ever cared about was trapped in stone. That was about to change, but not tonight. They’d already spent too much time in Japan. For all the bloodshed and near misses, she knew they’d been incredibly lucky to evade their enemies this long. They were leaving the country tomorrow. The only question now was where they were going.

  The bathroom door opened as she was setting water glasses on the table. She glanced over . . . and forgot to breathe. Gabriel stood in the steam of the half-open door, unaware of her stare as he wrapped the towel around his waist. He leaned forward to stare at his reflection in the mirror, rubbing at the glass to see more clearly. Had she thought he was beautiful? It was an understatement. Every muscle was perfectly defined—strong and sleek, with each connecting to the next like a display in an anatomy textbook. His shoulders were broad on a torso that arrowed down in a perfect vee to narrow hips and strong legs. The towel hid his groin—she didn’t know whether to be grateful or irritated by that—but the towel couldn’t conceal the thick bulge that told her he was anatomically consistent. Big man, big. . . . She felt a blush heat her cheeks and shifted her gaze upward, noting that his skin was thick and unblemished, without any of the scars she might have expected a warrior of his experience to have.

  He reached back to fully open the door, and she jumped, nearly spilling the water. Thankfully, that meant her gaze was focused on the table when he padded into the short hallway and disappeared toward the bedroom. Hana blew out a breath as she grabbed a towel and sopped up the spilled water. “Have mercy,” she whispered and turned to take the steaks out of the oven. A body like that deserved everything she could feed it. Including her blood.

  “Sit,” she ordered, when Gabriel appeared a few minutes later. “Eat before it gets cold.”

  He stared at his plate—with its giant-sized steak and potato, not to mention the side dish of fish and vegetables and the small bowl of miso soup—and gave her a curious look, but then shrugged and sat down.

  The first few minutes were filled with the sounds of eating—the scrape of knife and fork, water glasses up and down, the occasional slurp of broth. But finally, with the edge of their hunger satisfied, Hana took a long drink of water and said, “We need to decide where we’re going.”

  “You know this world. Where would you recommend?”

  “Europe or North America,” she mused. “Our enemies aren’t without influence there, but if we’re careful, we should be able to find someone who is . . . not necessarily an ally, but a friend, at least. Grandfather had business associates all over the world.”

  He took another bite of steak, chewed thoughtfully, then nodded. “They’re after you and your magic. It might be useful if whoever you choose had some knowledge of that.”

  “More than I do anyway,” she muttered. “I still don’t understand why Grandfather refused to teach me more than he did.”

  He gave her a curious look. “What’s the nature of your talent? I don’t believe you’ve mentioned it.”

  Hana winced and felt her face heat with embarrassment. She wasn’t completely comfortable talking about magic, at least not her own. She absolutely believed magic existed. How else could one explain Gabriel? And her grandfather had possessed what some would call a sixth sense about the people he dealt with. Hana had always thought he possessed a significant telepathic gift. He’d always smiled when she’d asked, but he’d never confirmed her guess. Nor had he denied it. As for her own so-called gift, her grandfather hadn’t known such a thing even existed. Oddly enough, it had been Sotiris who’d told him about it after his chance meeting with Hana, assuming Grandfather would want to make use of her talent, and share it with his good friend, too.

  She’d learned the hard way that ignorance was dangerous. Gabriel needed to know the facts, since he was putting his life on the line for her, too. “Okay, don’t laugh,” she ordered.

  To his credit, Gabriel appeared surprised she would even think that.

  “When it comes to magic, I’m sort of”—she sucked in a breath, then forged ahead, not meeting his eyes—“an amplifier.” She lifted her gaze to his, trying to measure his response.

  He nodded, and his forehead wrinkled, as if thinking about it. “You’re saying you can enhance a sorcerer’s own power?”

  She was surprised by the pragmatic question. She’d always treated her own talent with some skepticism. “More or less. But it’s not reliable, not something I can turn on and off. It just happens when I’m in the room, but sometimes it doesn’t, either. I usually don’t even know it’s working until after it happens.”

  “Have you ever tried to discipline it? Observe your reactions and senses when it works, and try to reproduce them in a controlled fashion?”

  “No,” she admitted. “Privately, I’ve always hoped it would go away as I got older.”

  “Obviously, it didn’t.”

  “It got worse.”

  “Or better?”

  She sighed. “I don’t want it. I don’t know why anyone would.”

  “Hana,” he chided. “You’re not that naïve. A gift like that would be a tremendous weapon for allies and enemies alike.”

  “So, you think it’s Grandfather’s allies who are after me,” she said dryly.

  “No.”

  “Do his enemies really think I’d work for them after what they’ve done?”

  “There are many ways to force the unwilling to serve,” he said darkly.

  She stared at him, knowing he was right. After all, he’d been made a vampire against his will for much the same reason. Because someone had wanted to use him as a weapon. “You’re right. I know that. Okay. Who knows magic, is strong enough to control his own territory, and lives far, far away from here?”

  Gabriel took a sip of water, waiting for her answer.

  “Shit,” she said in sudden realization. “Of course. Pack your bags, Gabriel. We’re going to California.”

  Chapter Three

  Los Angeles, CA, USA

  GABRIEL WOKE WITH a start when the private plane hit the ground. Jumping from the bed, he pulled on his pants, waiting for the thin walls to crumple around him, for fire to eat away at construction he knew was far too flammable. He yanked the door open, nearly pulling it from its hinges in his need to get to Hana. One hard stride . . . and he crashed to the floor, suddenly too weak to stand.

  “Gabriel!”

  He turned sluggishly to see her rushing down the aisle, her hands trailing over the seatbacks to maintain balance on the moving aircraft.

  “What happened?” she asked, dropping to her knees next to him, her soft hands touching his shoulder, his face. “My God, you’re freezing.”

  He shook his head trying to clear it. “No,” he muttered. “Hot.”

  “Damn it. I knew you needed to drink.”

  Gabriel blinked his eyes, trying to make sense of her words. “Drink?”

  “Blood, you idiot. I never should have let you convince me. Never mind. Let’s get you u
p.”

  She slung his arm over her shoulder and, demonstrating a strength that would have surprised anyone who didn’t know her, hefted his considerable bulk to a standing position. He dropped into the first seat they came to, gripping the armrests to conceal the trembling of his hands. What the hell was happening to him? He hadn’t felt this bad since . . . fuck. Not since his damn vampire Sire had locked him in a cell and withheld blood to punish him for disobedience.

  “That’s it,” Hana said, buckling his seatbelt and then taking the seat next to him. “If you won’t take blood from me, I’ll find someone else.”

  Something deep inside him roared to life. His head swiveled slowly, as an animal-like growl rumbled up from his chest. “You will feed no one else.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Well, of course not. I meant I’ll find someone else to feed you. Idiot.”

  “Stop calling me that,” he muttered, though it was an accurate description in that moment.

  “When you stop acting like one, I will,” she snapped, then brushed a tender hand over his forehead, pushing away his hair. “How do you feel?” she asked softly.

  The word “fine” was on the tip of his tongue, but it would have been a lie. And she wouldn’t believe it anyway. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I’ve never flown before. Maybe it’s that.”

  “Maybe,” she said, although doubt was heavy in her voice. She took his hand and held on. “I’ve arranged for a car to pick us up at the terminal. If you can make it off the plane—”

  “I can do whatever is needed.” He meant it to sound strong and assured, but it came out more as a whisper.

  Hana shook her head with a sigh. “Men.”

  “Are we in Los Angeles?” he asked. He understood air flight as well as any other non-scientist, which was not at all. Himura-san had explained the science behind it years ago, when aircraft had become common for regular travel. But, of course, Gabriel had never actually flown before. The take-off from Tokyo had been mildly terrifying, and he’d been grateful for Hana’s ordinary human senses which had kept her from hearing his heart beating twice as fast in what he wanted to believe was anticipation, rather than fear.

  “Yes.”

  He could see the terminal lights outside the jet windows and the dark sky beyond. Hana had chartered a private jet, which meant they’d been able to set a departure time in the middle of the night to minimize detection. She’d also told him something about registering a false flight plan and changing the plane’s transponder signal as a way to conceal their destination, at least temporarily. But since he had no idea what any of that meant, he’d paid little attention. “What time is it?”

  “The local time is just past eleven o’clock at night. Perfect timing.”

  He nodded. He knew the Earth was round, and he understood time zones. Again, courtesy of Himura-san’s efforts to keep him aware and informed. He also thought the old man had done it to keep him rooted in the real world, despite his long imprisonment. “Perfect timing?” he repeated, struggling to keep his mind on the present. “For what?”

  “We can go directly to the estate of the man I told you about, the old friend of my grandfather’s.”

  Gabriel didn’t like the idea of walking into a strange man’s home when he was too weak to defend Hana. “Are you sure that’s—”

  “I’m sure,” she said firmly. “He can be trusted, and he’ll be able to help us. Both of us.”

  He scowled. What the hell did that mean? “He lives nearby? Isn’t it rather late in the—?”

  “Like I said, the timing is perfect. As for the other, he lives a short drive from here. In Malibu.”

  Malibu, CA

  AS USUAL, ON A Friday night, Raphael was working in his office. For once, however, he had no meetings, no conference calls, nothing that required him to play the part of vampire lord. So, he was slouched comfortably on the big sectional by the fireplace in the alcove of his office, working on his tablet, with the delicious weight of his mate, Cynthia, warm against his side. She was working, too, although hers was the soft tapping of computer keys on her laptop.

  Almost without thinking, he bent to kiss the top of her head. He still found it difficult sometimes to believe he’d found her. This one woman in the universe who was his perfect match, a woman who loved him as much as he loved her. He would have said “nearly as much,” but she’d have stabbed him if she heard it, and besides, it wasn’t true. They’d been through hell together too many times to pretend otherwise.

  Her fingers stopped their nearly silent motion. “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “Yes. I just felt like kissing you.”

  She twisted around with a grin. “Then do it properly, fang boy.”

  He bent down and took her mouth in a kiss that he never grew tired of. Her lips were soft and feminine, but there was a fierceness to her that flavored everything she did.

  “I love you, my Cyn.”

  “Love you, too,” she whispered. “Have we worked enough for tonight?”

  It was his turn to grin. “A few more—” He froze as agony speared into his soul.

  “Raphael?” Cyn was sitting up, staring at him in alarm.

  This wasn’t his agony, though. One of his vampires? He reached out, searching for whoever it was. What he found had him coming to his feet. Juro, he sent a mental call to his security chief, Who’s at the front gate?

  The answer came a moment later as his cell phone rang. He put it on speaker so Cyn could hear. “A woman, my lord. Human, although there’s a buzz of magic about her. She has a male with her. He appears to be, if not unconscious, then not well. She says Himura Kyou sent her.”

  “Himura is dead.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Raphael might not know who the male was, but he did know what he was. “Bring them to my office.”

  “My lord, let me—”

  “He’s dying, Juro. Bring them here.”

  Cyn was on her feet, staring at him. “Who’s dying? And who’s with him?” She reached down and yanked open a drawer on the side table, grabbing the 9mm Glock stored there and shoving it into the back of her waistband. Do I need—?”

  “There’s no danger, lubimaya. There’s only one woman my friend Himura would send to me. I don’t know the male’s name, but—”

  “You keep saying ‘male.’ Does that mean he’s a vampire? One of yours?”

  “Not one of mine. Not anyone’s, I don’t think. I can’t be sure—” A woman’s voice and the sound of people coming down the hall outside his office sent them both into the main room. Cyn started automatically for his desk, expecting him to sit behind it in the position of power, but Raphael didn’t follow her. He braced himself and faced the door, fight­ing back a shudder at the waves of agony coursing through his system. He could have blocked them with a thought, but he wouldn’t betray the pain of whoever was out there. He’d tasted enough of the male’s mind to know the vampire wasn’t his, but whoever he was, it was a testament to his courage that he was still breathing. The vampire symbiote could deal with a lot, but this. . . . Raphael didn’t know if he’d ever felt such suffering.

  A wisp of his power opened the big double doors a moment before Juro and Ken’ichi appeared with a barely conscious vampire between them. Raphael strode forward and took the vamp’s weight, letting the burden carry them both to their knees on the thick carpet. Rage, thick and hot, roared to life inside him, as he realized what had been done to this vampire. Without a thought, he lifted his arm and sliced through the skin with a fang, then shoved his bloody wrist into the male’s mouth.

  “Drink,” he ordered and added enough power to give it the force of compulsion. Whoever had damaged this vampire might have included any number of prohibitions that Raphael needed to punch through.

  He thought at first the vamp was too f
ar gone to suck and lifted his head to order Juro to call their on-site physician. Dr. Saephan was human, but mated to a vampire, and the only human Raphael trusted to do any research on the vampire symbiote. He’d made a point of learning how to treat vampires as well as humans. Before Raphael could speak, he felt the vamp’s tongue slide through the blood dripping from his vein, and again. And then the male’s lips clamped over his wrist and he sucked.

  Raphael looked up and around until he found the woman who’d brought this vampire in. “What’s his name?”

  “Gabriel,” she said, emotion making her voice thick, her cheeks wet with tears she made no attempt to wipe away. “Urban Gabriel Halldor, though he doesn’t use his first name,” she added, clearly thinking it might be important.

  Raphael studied her a moment longer. “Hana Himura,” he said, using the westernized form of her name, but knowing he was right. “You resemble your great-grandmother.”

  She dragged her tear-filled gaze away from Gabriel and met Raphael’s eyes, her own widening in surprise. “You knew my great-grandmother?”

  Raphael tipped his head in assent. “And your great-grandfather, as well, though not as well as your grandfather, Kyou. I knew him from the time he was a boy. We became friends as he aged. I was saddened by his death.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, her attention once more riveted on Gabriel. “Will he . . . ?” She lifted her eyes. “Will Gabriel be okay?”

  “He will now,” Raphael said, his voice hardening at the reminder of Gabriel’s condition. “Who did this to him, do you know?”

  “Did . . . what?” She gave him a distressed look. “I offered him my vein, but he wouldn’t drink.”

  “He had no regular supply? Where is his master?”

  She frowned in confusion. “His master? The vampire who turned him died a long time ago. I think Gabriel killed him, but—”

  “Not his Sire, Hana. His master. Who did this to him?”

  Her mouth opened in an O of understanding. She nodded. “Gabriel was cursed . . . thousands of years ago. The curse was only lifted”—she seemed to be counting back in her head—“six days ago, and we’ve been on the run the whole time. I knew he was getting weaker, but he wouldn’t—”