“Dolores,” she said, her face pale as she took in the bodies surrounding her.
Michael smiled, looking like a nice all-American young man with no ulterior motives.
“Dolores,” he repeated. “Que bonito nombre.” Lovely name.
Dolores stared up at him silently, her fingers gripping the crucifix around her neck. Michael continued, his Spanish fluid and easy. “Do you know where Albert Serrana is right now?” he asked her.
The woman nodded.
“And do you know the vampire he keeps with him? The woman?”
Dolores’s expression dimmed. “The pretty one,” she said. “So sad.”
“You mean it’s sad that she’s here?”
“No, señor. She is sad. All the time. So pretty, but so sad.”
Vincent’s hold on Lana’s hand tightened almost painfully and she squeezed back, partly to keep him from breaking her hand, but also to let him know that she shared his anger.
“Where is he?” Vincent growled, and Dolores’s eyes shot to him in alarm.
“Tranquilo, Dolores,” Michael said soothingly. Take it easy. “We’re here for the pretty one. She belongs with us. Can you show us where she is now?”
“Si,” Dolores said firmly and gestured toward the stairs inside the front door. “Come inside.” Michael smiled and indicated she should lead the way.
Dolores went through the doors and up the stairs with Michael following. Vincent went next with Lana beside him, but she loosened her hand from his. She did it gently, squeezing his hand tight before letting go, but she had no intention of walking into a potentially hostile situation with her right hand filled with something other than her gun. Vincent glanced over as she drew her Sig and nodded his understanding. Carrying the weapon down along her thigh, she following Michael and Dolores up the stairs and along the mezzanine, then down another hallway that ended in a single oversized door of dark, banded wood.
Dolores stopped in front of the door. “Shall I knock, señor?” she asked, looking to Michael for direction.
“No, thank you, Dolores,” he said gently, then caught her before she fell. Lifting her easily, he kicked open the door to what turned out to be a small sitting room and laid her on an orange velvet couch. Leaving her there, he returned to the hallway and closed the door behind him.
“Sire?” he asked, turning to Vincent.
“Carolyn’s in there,” Vincent said, looking at the dark wooden door, his expression one of revulsion. “But only one human. I’m guessing that’s Serrana, since your new girlfriend seemed eager to please.”
“What can I say, my lord? The ladies love me.”
“Especially the ones old enough to be your mother,” Vincent responded drily. “Open the door.”
Michael tried the knob. It resisted his effort for all of a second until he applied a little of that handy vampire strength and broke through the lock with childish ease. He entered first and stopped, blocking the doorway. Lana frowned at the maneuver—it wasn’t smart to frame yourself like that, giving whoever was waiting inside a clear shot. But then she remembered that everyone inside was unconscious.
He moved finally, walking inside as Lana followed, stepping in ahead of Vincent. The yellow flicker of a fire cast shadows over the dimly-lit room, making it far too warm and stuffy for her taste. It was a bedroom, naturally. Where else would a rapist keep his captive? There was a king-sized bed with an ornate headboard and two matching bedside tables. Lamps on either side lit the room brightly, their pounded copper bases gleaming.
Lana ventured further into the room, feeling the others enter and spread out behind her. She found the master of the estate slumped between the bed and the shuttered windows. He was completely naked, and her first thought was that he should have left off the lights. But then she heard the deep murmur of Vincent’s voice and turned to see him wrapping a blanket around a naked young woman. Lana immediately swung back around to Serrana and kicked him in the balls. She only hoped he could feel it. But then, she had confidence that whatever Vincent had planned for the bastard would be much worse.
“Lana,” Vincent said, his voice low and urgent.
She forgot all about Serrana and hurried over, dropping to her knees next to him. The woman, presumably Carolyn, was awake and cowering away from Vincent, clutching the blanket around her. Lana’s heart clenched with sorrow for the woman and hatred for the man, the pig who had done this to her.
“Carolyn,” she said softly, pushing in front of Vincent, placing herself between him and Carolyn so that she was the only one the abused young woman would see. And, yeah, she knew this was a vampire, with strength enough to throw a man across the room, but right now, she was simply a woman, just as vulnerable and damaged as any human female would have been in these circumstances.
Carolyn’s downcast eyes came up and met hers, filling with tears. “You have to run,” she whispered. “Get away while you can.”
Lana blinked in confusion, before realizing that Carolyn thought Serrana, or maybe Vincent, had somehow taken Lana prisoner and meant to torment her as well. Because Carolyn had no reason to believe that vampires were any better than the humans she lived with.
“No, Carolyn,” Lana said gently, tears stinging her own eyes as she pulled the blanket more securely over the vampire’s shoulders. Her instinct was to hug her, to hold her close and tell her everything would be okay. But the first move had to be Carolyn’s. She’d been touched in too many ways and by too many people against her will. She needed to know she was in control again.
“We’re here to get you out of this place. This is Vincent,” Lana said, jerking her head in his direction. “You can trust him. He and these others have come here to free you.”
Carolyn stared, first at Lana, and then raising her gaze, she took in the other vampires filling the room, making it seem small with their size and bristling anger. She flinched slightly, but Lana spoke quickly, saying, “They’re not angry at you. They’re angry at him.” She nodded toward Serrana, letting her hatred fill her words, wanting Carolyn to hear it and know where she stood.
Carolyn lowered her gaze to Lana again, and then she suddenly burst into tears, gripping the blanket around her and letting her head fall against Lana’s shoulder. Lana wrapped her arms around the young vampire, cautiously at first, but then tighter as Carolyn’s body began to shudder with the force of her tears, her sobs raw and heartbreaking.
Vincent swore viciously beneath his breath. He shot to his feet and Lana was peripherally aware of his footsteps as he pounded across the tile floor. She turned enough to see him grab the unconscious Serrana and throw him onto the bed, then his fingers dug into the man’s throat and he growled, “Wake up, you sick bastard.”
Lana couldn’t see the human’s face, but she heard his terrified shout when he woke to find himself being choked to death—not to mention surrounded by—a group of hulking and angry vampires, every one of them staring at him with fangs fully distended and eyes glowing.
“How shall I kill you?” Vincent crooned. “I could rip out your heart, but that would be too fast. I could break every bone in your body and slice your veins. Let you bleed out slowly, feel your life dripping away as you lay helpless to stop it.” Serrana cried out suddenly, and Lana twisted further to see Vincent toying with him, flicking his fingers at the major veins in the man’s neck, moving down to do the same to his shoulder and on to his chest, except that now, Lana could hear the muted sound of bones breaking with every flick of Vincent’s fingers.
Serrana screamed and Carolyn’s head shot up, her eyes taking on a pale glow of their own as she stared at her former tormentor.
“Mine,” she whispered hoarsely.
Lana’s first thought was that Carolyn was identifying with her captor somehow and was ready to defend him. But then she registered the rage and hatred in the young
woman’s voice. It slid over Lana’s skin like a living thing before wending its way across the room to the screaming Serrana.
“Mine,” Carolyn repeated more strongly as she rose to her feet, clutching the blanket around her. Lana stood with her, turning to face Vincent, who was lifting Serrana off the bed, still gripping him by his throat, holding him high as he curled his other hand into a claw aimed at the rapist’s pitiful sex organs.
“Vincent,” Lana said sharply.
He swiveled his head in her direction, pissed at having his fun interrupted. Until his gaze shifted over her shoulder and he saw Carolyn standing there, her own eyes lit with enough power to give them a soft, blue glow.
Vincent smiled slowly, and it was a terrifying thing to see. Serrana saw it, and he whimpered in horror, but Lana’s only thought was that he’d have been far better off with Vincent than he was going to be with Carolyn.
Vincent opened his fingers and let the human fall to the bed. Serrana immediately tried to scramble away, but Vincent stopped him with a negligent glance, holding him like a bug pinned to a board.
“He’s all yours, Carolyn,” Vincent said, stepping away from the bed with a grand gesture in Serrana’s direction. “Do take your time.”
Lana heard a low rumble of sound behind her. She turned to see Carolyn in full vamp mode, fangs gleaming as they pressed into her lower lip, eyes glowing as she let the blanket fall and stalked across the room, her nakedness forgotten. All of the males stepped back, giving her plenty of room, allowing her this moment to take her revenge.
Serrana’s gaze had been following Vincent as he moved away, but then he caught sight of Carolyn. His eyes widened in terrified realization and he squealed in fear, thrashing about aimlessly, held in place by Vincent’s power.
Carolyn stopped in front of him, then raised her gaze to Vincent. “If you would, my lord,” she said, her voice low and raspy, though whether it was from disuse or screaming, Lana didn’t know.
Vincent held her gaze for a moment, as if judging whether she could handle the human, but then he tipped his head slightly in acquiescence and took a step back. Lana felt a brief frisson of power, and then Serrana jumped as he was abruptly freed from his restraints. He immediately tried to roll off the bed and make a break for it—as foolish an idea as that was—but it didn’t matter. Carolyn’s hand shot out faster than Lana could follow, grabbing the man’s balls and crushing them in her fist, her fingers tightening until Lana could see the white bone of her knuckles. Serrana shrieked, the sound gaining pitch as Carolyn’s grip tightened, until with a final hard yank, she tore them off completely. Ignoring Serrana’s anguished screams, Carolyn held the bloody pieces of flesh in her hand, eyeing them curiously and long enough that Lana began to wonder if she’d finally lost it. But then, it was as if she was coming out of a trance. Her eyes blinked and her entire body shuddered hard, once. She shifted her gaze from the shredded testicles to the sobbing Serrana and back again, then bared all of her teeth in a vicious grimace, gripped Serrana by the hair, and shoved the bloody bits down his throat.
She turned to Vincent and, speaking in a soft, slow drawl that betrayed her Southern origins, said, “I would be obliged, my lord, if you would keep this vermin alive while I play with him.”
“Consider it done,” Vincent said, as if keeping a man alive to be tortured was something he did every day.
Carolyn smiled for the first time since they’d found her. And Serrana screamed.
Chapter Sixteen
LANA STARED UP at what was left of Albert Serrana and had to swallow hard to contain the nausea roiling her stomach. She couldn’t complain about the gruesome tableau since the whole Silence of the Lambs thing had been her idea, but she hadn’t considered the reality . . . or the stench. It would be even worse when Serrana’s people woke sometime after dawn to discover their boss’s body on display. Most of them would be missing a pint or two of their own blood, too. Vincent had permitted all of his people to dine at will on the unconscious guards, instructing them to leave the neck wounds bleeding. He wanted there to be no doubt as to who it was that had visited them in the night. Serrana’s grisly display was intended as a warning, after all. A warning not to fuck with vampires unless you were willing to pay the price.
But Lana and the others would be long gone by then. Which was one thing to be thankful for, she supposed, that she wouldn’t be around for sunrise. The flies would come then.
She shuddered and turned away, only to run smack into Vincent.
“So what do you think?” he asked, gazing up at the tall iron gates in front of the main door. They’d been propped open earlier, but now they’d been shut in order to better display their new decoration.
Lana forced herself to look once more. Ortega and Zárate had bound Serrana’s bloody and ravaged body to the gate, using some heavy baling wire they’d found in the truck. They’d taken pride in their work, binding his legs and arms outstretched, even wiring his head back so that his sightless, and eyeless, gaze seemed to be surveying the yard.
When she didn’t say anything, Vincent put his arms around her, hugging her back to his chest. “Carolyn needed this,” he whispered, both an apology and an explanation.
“I know. And the bastard deserved every bit of it.”
“So does Enrique,” he growled against her ear.
Lana twisted in his arms to look up at him. “But Enrique’s far more dangerous. Don’t—”
Vincent placed two fingers over her lips. “I’ve no desire to die young . . . Well, young-looking anyway,” he amended with a lopsided grin. “Come on, sunrise isn’t far off and we have to get Michael and the others back to the airport.”
“What about Carolyn?” she asked. The female vampire had all but collapsed in emotional and physical exhaustion after she’d finished dealing with her rapist. Lana had found some clothes in an adjacent bedroom for her. They were men’s sweats, but they were clean and easy to make fit on the smaller woman. Vincent had then spoken to Carolyn, his words soft and for her ears alone, before he’d slit his wrist and let her drink. She hadn’t drunk as much as Jerry or Salvio had, but apparently it was enough. Vincent had caressed her face once and then caught her as she fell into a deep sleep, holding her for a moment before transferring her to Michael who’d carried her to the SUV waiting in the yard. Ortega had retrieved the vehicle before he’d helped Zárate display Serrana.
Carolyn was there now, in the cargo compartment, still sleeping under the compulsion that Vincent had laid on her, one that he’d assured Lana would last until she woke in Hermosillo the next night.
“We have a couple of female vamps in Hermosillo,” Vincent told Lana. “Also a few human women who are mated to vampires. They’ll provide whatever care Carolyn needs. But she’s a vampire, Lana, and she’s mine now. She can draw on me for help and whatever strength she needs to recover. It won’t be easy, but it won’t be as painful as it would be for a human either.”
Lana nodded. He’d told her all of this before, but she still felt responsible somehow.
“You can see her when this is all over,” he reminded her gently.
“I know.”
“You ready to get out of here, then?”
She drew a deep breath. “Definitely.”
The others were already piling into the SUV, which was even more crowded now. Jerry was riding in the cargo area with Carolyn, first because he knew her somewhat, but mostly because he was the most slender of the vampires present, and Vincent still refused to permit Lana to ride anywhere but next to him.
Lana nearly dozed off as they raced for the airport. Vincent and Michael had agreed en route that the jet would depart as soon as everyone was aboard. The human pilots would be at the helm since most of the flight would take place after sunrise, but apparently once in Hermosillo, they’d “daylight”—that was what Vincent had called it—at th
e airport itself. Lana’s only thought was that she hoped the human guards were trustworthy, but then Vincent had pointed out that the same guards protected the Hermosillo compound every day. And that they were very well compensated. There was also some sort of vampire taboo against attacking your enemy in daylight, because no one wanted to start that particular snowball rolling.
The other reason for their hurry to reach the airport was that Lana and Vincent would not be returning to Hermosillo with the others. They were continuing the search for Xuan Ignacio, which meant they needed enough time to drive to a hotel and get checked in before daybreak. The sensible thing to do would have been to stay in Silao, which was the city nearest the airport, but naturally, Vincent had other plans. He’d insisted on choosing their hotel, reminding Lana rather snidely about the charming accommodations with the broken miniblinds that she’d arranged the last time he’d left it up to her.
That wasn’t altogether fair since there was a world of difference between finding accommodations in the middle of nowhere and in a real city. But she’d held her peace for two reasons. One, Vincent was a pain in the ass when he didn’t get his way; but, two, he was used to the best of everything, and after the last couple of nights in motels that probably rented rooms by the hour, Lana was more than ready for whatever luxury he could find.
Vincent had tapped away on his cell phone, grunted once or twice, then apparently made a reservation, though he wouldn’t share the details. Lana was too tired to care, however. She just wanted to see the others safely on their way and then find her own way into a hot shower as soon as possible.
Michael turned into the airport, speeding past the main terminal and the construction site, and zipping into the private hangar. They’d called ahead, so the hangar door was open, and the jet already prepped and waiting for them. Ortega and Zárate waited until Vincent exited the SUV, then gave him a respectful nod and disappeared up the stairs into the Gulfstream. Jerry popped the cargo hatch and was reaching inside to pick up Carolyn when Vincent stopped him.
Vincent (Vampires in America Book 8) Page 25
