The Vampire Affair

by Livia Reasoner

  Then again, a warrior needed something to fight for, not just an enemy to fight against. Now Michael had that again.

  Atticus Cole, his second-in-command for this mission, came over to him. Like Michael, Cole wore almost skintight black trousers and a pullover shirt, as well as high-topped black boots. Also like Michael, his face had been darkened by streaks of paint. A rangy, rawboned man, he was older, closing in on fifty, and had retired from the U.S. Army as a master sergeant after years spent as a member of the Special Forces. He reported, “A limo just took the exit for the castle.”

  “Maintain surveillance,” Michael ordered, even though he knew Cole didn’t have to be told to do that. The man was top-notch at his job, all the way around. The only people Michael trusted more were Max and Clifford.

  Michael unclipped the radio from his belt and tried to call the safe house to let them know that Rendell might be about to arrive at the castle. Clifford didn’t respond, though, and that brought a worried frown to Michael’s face. He supposed they could have all dozed off…but that seemed unlikely. He should have left some men there to keep an eye on the place, he thought, but his forces weren’t limitless and as far as he knew the vampires weren’t even aware of the old farmhouse’s existence.

  He had trusted Max and Clifford to look out for Jessie, but Max was wounded and Clifford wasn’t as young as he used to be. Between them they could handle probably a dozen human mercenaries, but if vampires attacked the place, too…

  He thought about driving back over there, but with the strong possibility that Rendell was in the approaching limousine, Michael couldn’t afford to leave now. He wanted to move just as soon as he was sure Rendell was in the castle, before the vampires could button everything up more securely.

  Still, Michael couldn’t banish the worry that had begun to gnaw at him. He couldn’t go back to the farmhouse right now, but he could spare a couple of men to go check it out.

  He was about to call Atticus Cole to issue the order when he saw the man trotting toward him. “What is it, Top?” Michael asked.

  “Report from our forward observation post,” Cole replied. “The limo entered the resort grounds two minutes ago. Our men sent this picture.”

  Cole held out a photograph with a greenish tinge that indicated it had been taken by a night-vision camera. Its high-powered zoom showed a familiar man in the backseat of the vehicle. He recognized the hawkish profile, and the memories it brought back were like a hard punch jolting him.

  No doubt about it. Jefferson Rendell had arrived, and he was inside the castle now.

  “It’s a go,” Michael said tightly. He knew the helicopter pilots were watching him. He lifted his right arm above his head and revolved his hand in the air to indicate they should fire up their engines. “Let’s get these birds in the air.”

  The limousine and its accompanying SUVs left the highway and wound through the Texas hills on a smaller road for several minutes before coming to the castle. Even in the dark, Jessie could tell what a huge, looming structure it was. The shadows cast by its high stone walls as the vehicles passed through the gate were like the maw of a giant beast, ready to swallow her.

  Rendell himself maintained his grip on her as he took her into the castle, rather than turning her over to his men. She sensed that he didn’t want her getting very far away from him, probably because he knew that she would be an effective shield when Michael showed up. She told herself that Michael would never do anything to hurt her, even if it meant forgoing his vengeance on Rendell. She wished she could be absolutely certain of that, though.

  He had been right to exclude her from the mission, she thought bitterly. She wasn’t good enough yet to take on the vampires—and she might not get to be, since she might not even live through this night.

  As Rendell marched her along a corridor, his grip painfully tight on her arm, she said, “How do you even know who I am, anyway?”

  “One of my followers was able to get a photograph of you several nights ago, when they first probed Michael’s defenses at the place he was staying in Dallas.”

  The third vampire who had gotten away at the Chateaus, Jessie thought.

  “I suspected that you might be important to him,” Rendell went on, “so I found out all I could about you, Ms. Morgan. That certainly wasn’t difficult. There are very few doors money won’t open, you know. I even found out about your grandmother in Oklahoma.”

  Nana Rose! Sheer terror bolted through Jessie’s mind. “If you hurt her, I’ll…I’ll…”

  Her voice trailed away as she realized the futility of her threats.

  Rendell chuckled. “Don’t worry, Ms. Morgan. I have no interest whatever in your grandmother. The only one I want is Michael Brandt. He poses no real threat to us, but I’m tired of being annoyed by him.”

  Rendell would see just how much of a threat Michael really was when he wound up with a stake through his heart, Jessie thought. She would keep thinking such things, and maybe that would help them come true.

  The castle stank inside, an unpleasant smell of dampness and decay. She supposed that came from the presence of so many vampires in the place. Earlier, in the limo, she had caught a whiff of the same scent coming from Rendell. No matter what these creatures did, they were still undead, unnatural. They were bound to stink of the graves where they should have stayed.

  Rendell took her into a vast, high-ceilinged chamber with a long mahogany table in the center of it. A dozen or so men waited there, but only three of them immediately caught her attention. One was a tall, brawny man with a craggy face and a shock of white hair. The second man was shorter and stockier with thinning dark hair and a mustache, while the third was a heavyset Japanese man. An air of self-confidence bordering on arrogance hung around each man.

  “My…colleagues, I suppose you would say,” Rendell said, and the fact that he was about to perform introductions as if she weren’t a prisoner and they weren’t unholy bloodsuckers sent a shiver through Jessie. Rendell nodded toward the white-haired man and went on, “This is Warren Spaulding.”

  “Howdy, ma’am,” Spaulding drawled in an overdone Texas accent as he grinned, or rather, leered at her.

  “And Señor Juan Antonio Escobar.”

  The Mexican nodded to her. “It is a pleasure, Señorita Morgan.”

  “And of course, Hiroshi Takahashi.”

  The Japanese gave Jessie a grave bow but said nothing. Instead he turned to Rendell and asked in impeccable English, “Are you certain that Michael Brandt intends to attack us? Even if he is in the area, it seems quite unlikely to me that he could have discovered our plans to meet here.”

  “Never underestimate Brandt,” Rendell snapped. “He’s quite a capable young man.”

  That’s right, Jessie thought. He’s capable of turning all you bloodsucking bastards to dust.

  “I checked into it like you said,” Spaulding put in. “Sure enough, that slick son of a bitch bought this place right out from under me. Won’t do him any good when he’s dead, though.” He came closer to Jessie, close enough to reach up and run a coarse finger along the tightly clenched line of her jaw. “This one sure looks like a tasty little morsel. Reckon we could have a little sample before Brandt gets here, Rendell?”

  Suddenly, Rendell’s lips drew back from his teeth and he hissed at Spaulding like an animal as his grip tightened even more on Jessie’s arm, until it felt like her bones were going to break.

  “Stay away from her, Spaulding,” he said. “I discovered her existence. She’s mine to do with as I will.”

  For a moment Spaulding looked like he might challenge the Englishman. But then the Texan shrugged his broad shoulders and stepped back. “Suit yourself,” he said. “I’m more interested in killin’ Brandt, anyway. That boy and his kin have been thorns in our side for a damned long time.”

  “Speaking of his relatives,” Escobar put in, “I believe you took two of them prisoner, as well.”

  Rendell nodded. “The two called Max and Cl
ifford. They’re here. I’ve had them locked up in the dungeon.”

  This place had a dungeon? That news didn’t particularly surprise Jessie. After everything she had witnessed these past few days, she wasn’t sure that anything would ever surprise her again.

  “When do you expect Brandt to arrive?” Escobar asked.

  “I don’t know, but I’m sure it will be soon, especially if he’s discovered that we have Ms. Morgan here.”

  Escobar’s lips curved in an ugly smile. “I look forward to it. Nothing thrills me more than battle. I recall that day in 1836 when I stormed the Alamo as a member of General Santa Anna’s army. The blood ran like rivers that day.”

  “As it will again tonight,” Jefferson Rendell said.

  Once the orders were given, everything proceeded with smooth, swift efficiency. Squads of twelve men loaded onto each of the four helicopters. One bird would land first on the far side of the castle to draw the attention of its defenders, then the other three would swoop down on the big courtyard and parking area. Michael harbored no illusions that sweeping through the castle would be easy. The fighting would be hard and fierce and bloody. But he was confident that his men could defeat the vampires and their human hired killers. Everything he’d done in recent weeks had been leading up to this moment, and he was ready to go.

  He just wished those nagging worries about Jessie, Clifford and Max weren’t lurking in the back of his brain. He had assigned two men to go check out the safe house, but he wouldn’t get their report until after he’d returned from the raid.

  The choppers lifted off their pads and arrowed through the dark night toward the castle. As he sat on a hard bench seat along one wall of the second helicopter with the men of Cole’s squadron, Michael pulled a black watch cap over his fair hair and checked his weapons. He carried two pistols and an automatic rifle. Several different types of grenades hung from the web belt around his waist: concussion, flash-bang, incendiary and good old-fashioned explosive. A dozen sharpened stakes rode in loops attached to the belt, and a crossbow was slung on his back. The other men were all armed in a similar manner.

  The war was about to begin again.

  Michael wondered, suddenly, if it would ever end.

  A few low-voiced comments were exchanged among the members of the squad, but for the most part they were silent. Nearly all of these men had lost a loved one to the vampires at some time, and every one of them was willing to lay down his life for the cause of defeating the monsters.

  From where he was, Michael could look past Atticus Cole and see through the chopper’s cockpit and the bulletproof Plexiglas canopy around it. The helicopter flew without running lights tonight, but just enough starlight filtered down for Michael to see the lead copter veer off. That was the decoy. It sped up and began the circle that would bring it at the castle from the opposite direction.

  Mere minutes later, Michael saw flashes in the distance. Beside him, Atticus Cole grunted. “Antiaircraft,” the second-in-command said. “They’re goin’ in.”

  “And so are we,” Michael said as his helicopter, as well as the other two behind it, increased their speed.

  He knew the first chopper’s feint wouldn’t distract the castle’s defenders for very long. It wouldn’t have to. As the other three helicopters zoomed in at the castle, missiles streaked from them, steered by laser guidance systems that targeted the towers containing gun emplacements. Those missiles slammed home, destroying the antiaircraft guns and leaving the courtyard open for the choppers to land.

  Michael stood up along with the other men as he felt the little jolt through the floor signifying that the helicopter’s skids had touched down on the flagstone courtyard. Cole slid the door open and leaped out first, followed by Michael and the other men. Michael gripped the automatic rifle tightly in one hand as he used the other to flip down the night-vision goggles.

  Gunfire began to erupt around the courtyard as the raiders moved toward the castle entrance. From studying the blueprints, Michael knew where the main conference room was located. That was where the overlords would be, he thought. With Cole at his side and the rest of the squad following him, he shot his way past several guards at the entrance and ran into a huge, high-ceilinged entry hall.

  They hadn’t encountered any vampires yet; Michael knew that from the way the castle’s defenders had fallen to regular bullets. That changed now, though, as half a dozen men charged toward them and were unaffected by the automatic weapons fire, except for being slowed down slightly by the impact of the slugs. “Crossbows!” Michael shouted, slinging his rifle over one shoulder while unslinging the crossbow over the other. In one smooth motion he loaded a stake, brought the weapon up and triggered it. He was rewarded by the sight of a vampire collapsing into dust as the stake pierced its heart.

  More of them met the same fate as crossbows fired. Only one survived to reach the members of the squad, and Atticus Cole dispatched him with a well-timed thrust of a stake. Michael called, “This way!” and led them along a corridor toward the conference room. He could still hear the sounds of battle going on elsewhere in the castle, but the thick walls muffled the shots and cries.

  A pair of ornately carved, heavy wooden doors loomed ahead of Michael. He was about to kick them open when they were thrown back. A tall, lean figure stood there with a cold smile on his lips.

  Rendell!

  Jefferson Rendell, the monster responsible for stealing away countless lives, dooming hundreds, perhaps even thousands, to a hellish, blood-drenched undead existence. He was the very embodiment of evil, everything foul and unclean that had led Michael to devote his life to ridding the world of the vampiric scourge. Rendell himself had stolen Michael’s chances for happiness, too, and he had thought he would never get them back until he met Jessie. Now Michael could have his revenge on Jefferson Rendell at last! The English vampire’s destruction would quench the desire for vengeance that had blazed inside Michael for so long. At least, Michael hoped desperately that it would.

  Those thoughts flashed through his mind in the split second that it took him to raise his crossbow. But in that same instant, Rendell moved, reaching behind him to grasp someone by the arm and jerk them around in front. Michael’s stunned brain refused to recognize the person who struggled feebly in the vampire overlord’s unholy grip, but his instincts kicked in and kept him from pressing the crossbow’s trigger.

  “Very good, Michael,” Rendell said with a smile. “You almost killed your little friend yourself. If you had, you wouldn’t have had a chance to watch me do…this!”

  His head dipped, his mouth opening to reveal sharp, glistening fangs, and as Michael’s world spun crazily around him, Rendell plunged those fangs deep into Jessie Morgan’s neck.

  Chapter 14

  “N oooooo!”

  Michael leaped forward, but he was too late. Jessie spasmed in Rendell’s grip, her arms jerking wildly as he drank her blood. Michael couldn’t fire the crossbow without hitting her, couldn’t even get close enough to Rendell to stake the bastard by hand.

  Not again! Oh, dear Lord in heaven, not again!

  Then Michael didn’t have time to think about it anymore because a terrible weight crashed into him and bore him off his feet. He rolled across the stone floor and fought against the inhuman strength of the creature grappling with him. Warren Spaulding’s face was only inches from his. Spaulding’s mouth gaped open, the fangs ready to strike. The man’s foul breath sickened Michael.

  His hand found one of the stakes at his belt and jerked it free. He drove it upward, using the greater than normal strength that was his family’s legacy, and plunged it into Spaulding’s chest. The man’s eyes had time to widen in surprise before they disintegrated, along with the rest of him.

  Spitting in disgust and loathing because some of the dust from Spaulding’s destruction had gotten in his mouth, Michael rolled over and lifted his head to look around desperately for Jessie. She was still in Rendell’s arms, but she had stopped fighting now an
d slumped against him, her head lolling loosely on her neck.

  “Dear God, no!” Michael shouted as Rendell ripped his fangs free from Jessie’s flesh, tipped his head back and howled in triumph. For a second Michael thought that Jessie was dead, that Rendell had drained her completely of blood, but then he saw the crimson threads welling from the two punctures in her neck and knew she still lived.

  A cold wind blew through his soul. As much blood as Rendell had taken, Jessie was doomed. She would die within the hour….

  Only to rise again as a vampire.

  “You son of a bitch!” Michael screamed as he powered to his feet and lunged toward Rendell. All around him, guns roared and bullets sang through the air, along with stakes thrown by the crossbows in the hands of some of his men. The pitched battle had spread into the big conference room, but Michael paid no attention to it. All he saw were two faces: Rendell’s, twisted with hate and unholy victory, and Jessie’s, so pale and washed out, colorless except for the tendrils of blood on her neck.

  Someone grabbed him from behind, looping an arm around his neck. “Now, Señor Brandt, the time has come for you to die!” Juan Antonio Escobar grated in his ear.

  Michael drove an elbow backward into Escobar’s midsection. The powerful blow knocked Escobar’s grip loose. These vampire overlords might be physically stronger than Michael, but not by so much that his superior fighting prowess didn’t even the odds to a certain extent. He had dropped his crossbow in the struggle with Spaulding, but as he whirled around he plucked one of the incendiary grenades from his belt, plucked the ring loose to arm it and shoved it inside Escobar’s shirt.

  Escobar screeched like a wounded animal as the grenade exploded and fire engulfed him. The blaze wouldn’t kill him, but it would melt all the flesh off his bones except for his heart, which could be destroyed only by piercing it with a stake. Given time, that evil heart would regenerate Escobar’s flesh—but Michael didn’t intend to give it that much time. Instead he whipped another stake from its loop on his belt and threw it with all his strength at the flailing, burning, screaming Escobar.