Xavier: Vampires in Europe (Vampires in America Book 14) Page 12

  Layla gave her a dry look. “Did you need to write all those numbers down?”

  She looked puzzled. “No, that’s standard crisis mode.”

  “Guess my crises have all been non-standard. I notice you didn’t include yourself in that schedule.”

  “Oh, I’ll rotate with the others next door, adding more time when the fresh medics start back.”

  “I hate to ask, lest you accuse me of being cold again, but what’s the prognosis?”

  “We’re looking at a minimum three to five days before any of these patients are mobile, including the three in the tent. After that, I’ll evaluate their progress daily, and give you a report. When they are able to report back, they’ll have to be on restricted duty.”

  She took another long drink of water then continued, “And what do I mean by restricted duty, you ask? If you’re lucky, two or three will be able to sit on the wall and fire a weapon, rather than jumping around all the time, like they were today. The others are looking at a longer recovery. Hopefully long enough that this fighting will be done and over with.”

  “I see. Thank you. I’ll brief Lord Xavier.”

  “Layla.”

  She turned.

  “I don’t think you’re cold. You have one of the hardest jobs around here. You fight when all the others do, but you don’t go home. Instead, you work in my hospital, and now you’re going to brief Lord Xavier, and try to decide how to keep everyone alive. Not just the people on the wall, but all those sheltering inside the Fortalesa, too. I, at least, can heal all of my patients”—she gestured toward the packed hospital bay—“given the tiniest bit of luck. You have to send your fighters out to die, the next time those fools attack. Whether that’s tomorrow, or two months from now.”

  “No,” Layla disagreed urgently. “I never send them out to die. I train them, arm them, support them to the very best of my ability. I send them out there to fight and then come home to their families alive and well. If I believed otherwise, I couldn’t do my job.”

  “I suppose not,” Nowak said thoughtfully. “And if you could, no one would follow you.”

  Layla gave a tired sigh and said, “I’ll check back after I brief Xavier.”

  “Just call,” Novak said simply. “It’s pointless for you to spend your energy running up and down those stairs, when you could just call. Even you need rest,” she added, indicating Layla’s bandaged arm.

  “I’ll do that. Thank you.”

  XAVIER LOOKED up when Layla walked into his office. Joaquim and Chuy were already there. They’d come early, both having information to exchange that, while bearing on the existing conflict, had little to do with the active fighting that took place during the day.

  But Xavier was very aware of the day’s attack. He’d been anticipating her arrival this evening, hoping the détente of sorts that they’d reached the previous night would not only hold, but even improve her attitude toward him. He saw her take note of the empty wine glasses in front of the two vampires before lifting her gaze to him, and knew this wasn’t going to be a friendly briefing.

  “Give us the room,” he said quietly. Joaquim and Chuy stood without protest. Their business with him was done, and they both had sources of their own who would provide details of the day’s fighting.

  “Sire,” they said simultaneously as they pushed in their chairs and headed for the door, both of them greeting Layla briefly before leaving the office.

  As she had the night before, Layla poured two fingers of whiskey in a glass and sat across from him at the table. She didn’t say anything, but studied him silently, as if waiting for him to speak.

  “It was a difficult day,” he said, starting with something neutral, and confident that if she was angry or upset about something that had happened, she’d get to it soon enough.

  She sipped her whiskey, without shifting her gaze away from him. “You could say that, yes.”

  “Dr. Nowak reports no fatalities, and while there are injuries, some serious, none that require my intervention.”

  That surprised her into saying, “You donate blood to injured guards?”

  “When needed. Why does that surprise you?”

  She avoided looking at him, setting down her phone, and arranging a few pages of handwritten notes in what appeared to be a nervous gesture. “There was no conflict when I left, so I guess there was never an opportunity for you to . . . heal anybody.”

  He smiled slightly. “You think not? You were very young.”

  Anger flashed in her eyes. “Well, I’m not young now, and I don’t like being lied to.”

  Xavier gave her a quizzical look. She’d been tense when she’d arrived, so it couldn’t be his healing efforts that precipitated what was essentially an accusation that he had lied to her. And she clearly wanted a confrontation, so there was no point in avoiding it. “And what have I lied about, Layla?”

  “You lied by omission,” she snapped. “You know more than you’re telling me about the people attacking the Fortalesa, and the person behind it. Including the supposed mystery of how they’re escaping without a trace. I tracked their retreat today—”

  His reaction, which had been lazily curious about her mood, sharpened abruptly. “How far did you go?”

  She stopped mid-sentence and stared at him. “You do know something, you bastard. Why wasn’t I told? How the hell am I supposed to defend this place and these people if you’re keeping secrets from me?”

  “How far did you go, Layla?” he repeated in a hard demand.

  “Until the trail cut off in fucking mid-step. So tell me, Lord Xavier, what does it mean?”

  He stood without warning and said, “We’re taking a walk.”

  She stood at the same time. “I’m not going anywhere with you, until you explain—”

  “Walk with me, Commander.”

  It was an order, and from the rebellious look on her face, she knew it. “Fine.” Leaving her notes on the table, she slid her phone into a pocket and waited.

  Xavier came around the table and gestured for her to precede him to the door.

  “No thanks. You lead the way.”

  “I’ve no plans to assault you from behind,” he said dryly. “I was being polite.”

  “Fuck polite. I don’t trust you.”

  He sighed and wondered if he’d ever met a more difficult woman, and then wondered why the hell he found that attractive. “Very well,” he said with a sigh, then grinned. “But you should know that if you attempt to assault me, I’ll fight back.”

  “Ha ha. Just walk.”

  THEY WALKED SIDE by side, through the inner courtyard, and past the hospital which was quiet and dark. He took that as a good sign, noting there was no smell of death—which would have been unmistakable—but only the usual scents he associated with human sick rooms. Layla might not credit it, but he and Dr. Nowak spoke daily on a regular basis, and during a crisis such as this, even more often. He probably knew more about the people injured than Layla did, though he wouldn’t bother to confront her with that fact. She hardly needed another reason to dislike him. Or pretend that she did.

  The spark that had drawn them together was still there. He felt it, and so did she, whether she’d admit or not. He was a damn vampire, for fuck’s sake. He knew when a woman wanted him. Her heart was beating a little too fast, her cheeks were warm with a flush of awareness, her pupils dilated. And he knew if he stripped her bare, her breasts would be heavy with desire, her nipples . . . Fuck. He had to rein in his thoughts before his body became too aroused to conceal.

  Damn, but he wanted this woman. When she’d left before, he’d seen the potential for what she could become, but now . . . She had a fire deep inside that drove her to challenge every rule, every attempt to rein her in. It was a fire he wanted to touch, to stroke to life until it became a
n inferno whose only purpose was to drive them both mad with desire. He wanted to feel that heat burning in his own veins as he sank his fangs into her flesh, with her bucking beneath him in helpless orgasm.

  God knew he wanted her. But for more than just sex, more than just her body—though that body was enough to tempt the saints. It was the force of her intellect when turned on a problem, the confidence that saw competition at every turn and had to do more than simply succeed. Layla had always had to win.

  He knew he’d wounded her all those years ago, when he’d rejected her innocent seduction. Wounded more than just her heart. She’d insist, as she had the previous night, that she’d gotten over it, over him, a long time ago. That she’d grown out of the young girl’s crush that had been between them. But she’d have been lying. Just as he’d lied when he’d sent her away.

  She didn’t seem surprised when they exited through the sally port next to the big, main gate, which was securely closed. And when she finally spoke, it was to say, “I called France earlier. Danilo’s good, but I needed to talk to someone with more strategic experience than she has.”

  “I would rather you not discuss my affairs outside the Fortalesa.” He didn’t know why it irritated him that she’d called someone else to discuss her day. Someone who was not him. Or maybe he did.

  “And I’d rather you not lie to me about what’s going on,” she responded sweetly.

  “And am I allowed to ask what your French friend had to say?”

  “He’s not French, just working there for now.”

  “Ah. Someone you work with, then.”

  “Yeah. A friend.”

  “And?”

  “He and two others are flying in tomorrow. They have skills that your people don’t—at least your human guards don’t. Skills that I need, if I’m going to figure out who’s behind all this and what they want. They’re also experienced enough to command, in case I find it necessary to send one or more smaller contingents of fighters into the field. We can’t just sit here and wait for the next attack.”

  “Is that what you think I’m doing? Sitting and waiting for my ene-mies to attack?” he demanded, angry and letting it show. Did she think he’d become Lord of Spain by sitting behind high walls and doing nothing? That he’d never fought a real battle, with blood flying while vampires screamed as decades—sometimes centuries—worth of lives ended in an instant?

  She stopped walking and stared at him. “No, in fact I’m pretty God damned sure that’s not what you’ve been doing. Which, I assume, is why we’re out here in the woods in the middle of the fucking night, with barely a sliver of moon to see by. Not that it makes much difference in the fucking forest!”

  One half of his mouth quirked into a smile. He didn’t remember her cursing quite this much before. “Can you find the place where the trail terminated?”

  “What?”

  “The trail. You said you followed the enemy’s retreat. Can you show me where it ended?”

  She looked around slowly, then down at the ground. “It’s a lot darker than it was. One tree looks a lot like another. But . . . ” She scanned the surrounding forest again. “Yeah, I think so. And if this is some kind of test, just so you can show me up by walking right to it, tell me now and don’t waste my time.”

  He could find it without her. But he was rather enjoying their walk. “I’ll know when we get closer,” he said ambiguously. It was the truth. Just not all of it.

  She studied him a moment, then pulled out a small flashlight and turned it on.

  “Continue to aim that downward.”

  “I know the drill.” They walked a few more steps, when she said, “You’re paying for the people coming in tomorrow.”

  “Am I?”

  “I have a budget for the daylight guard. I’m using it.”

  He didn’t really care what they cost. He was more interested in who they were, and what they meant to her. But he wasn’t going to admit that. “Tell me, Laylita,” he said, using the nickname he hadn’t spoken in all the years she’d been gone, “what will you give me if I let these people of yours come to my Fortalesa?”

  “They’re not coming for a fucking sleepover,” she gritted out. “They’re professional and highly skilled, the best in the world at what they do. And they’re coming here to help pull your ass out of the fire. My father’s people are damn good, and they have courage and heart. But one of my fighters is worth ten of them. It’s not an insult, nor a criticism. It’s simple reality. My guys have fought and survived some of the meanest, most dangerous conflicts in the world, frequently while hired by assholes they didn’t particularly like or respect. So you don’t need to worry about that. You need them. So suck it up, my lord.”

  His smile widened. He so loved swatting at her temper. “There are people, and places, I’d much rather suck,” he crooned.

  She stopped to stare at him, nostrils flaring and eyes widening in outrage, but she forced it back and smiled sweetly. “I’m sure there is no shortage of volunteers for that activity. I, however, have a job to do.”

  He laughed, really laughed, for the first time in weeks. “I have missed you, cariño.”

  She glared. “Well I haven’t missed you, and I’m not your fucking cariño.”

  “Not yet,” he replied. He always won—always got what and whom he wanted. And he definitely wanted her.

  She eyed him steadily. “Are we going to continue or what?”

  Ah. His Layla had definitely matured while she’d been gone. She still had the fire that had drawn him back then, but she’d learned to bank it to a simmer until it would be most effective. “No need. Wait here a moment.”

  She held out her hands in a “What the fuck?” gesture and shook her head in disgust, but watched silently as he continued in the general direction they’d been heading. He took several more steps, needing to distance himself from the waves of emotion she was throwing off. He’d learned enough from her father about her career—both formal military and later freelancing—to know she was as good as she claimed her associates were, the ones coming in tomorrow and the others, too. The fact that she was boiling over with emotion had little to do with her typical behavior on the job and more to do with him, and her conflicted love/hate feelings toward him.

  “Layla,” he said softly.

  He’d moved far enough away that she had to search for just a moment. He knew the moment she spotted the dark silver gleam of his eyes, as her own went wide with a soft gasp.

  “Come here, please.”

  She did, moving silently as she followed the path he’d taken. She flicked her flashlight on again, once she reached his side, slowly panning the narrow beam around the area. First the trees, then the spaces between them, and finally the ground. “This is it,” she said softly. “See how the trail just . . . ends?”

  She looked up at him, but he wasn’t looking at her, or anything else. Not in this world. He held out his hands as if feeling an invisible wall.

  “Did you find something?”

  “Magic,” he murmured, lifting his head slightly and inhaling, as if it was a scent in the air. “You want to know how they’re vanishing so completely,” he continued, barely loud enough to be heard. “Our enemy is a sorcerer, and he’s using magic to whisk his fighters away.”

  “Excuse me? A sorcerer?”

  He heard the skepticism in her voice and gave her a surprised look. “You put faith in your Kerry and her hunches, and yet you doubt the existence of sorcerers and their magic?”

  “Well, yeah? I mean, Kerry’s hunches are one thing, and I’ve seen you do some pretty cool tricks, but—”

  “I don’t do tricks, Layla. I am a vampire lord, which means I have considerable power that neither you nor your science can explain. As for what sorcerers are capable of, what is that, if not what you would call m
agic?”

  She bit the inside of her cheek for a moment, then admitted, “I don’t know. I want to say it’s impossible, but clearly it’s not. I guess I never really thought of it much at all.”

  “No sorcerers in your armies, or that of your enemy?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “The key word being, ‘know.’ I imagine your leaders prefer to keep that sort of thing secret from the general public. And it would seem, from its soldiers, as well.”

  She stared. “So you’re saying magic is real? And there are sorcerers who can . . . what?”

  “That would depend on the sorcerer. I must admit, they are rare in the world now, though at one time they were plentiful enough that they went to war against vampires.”

  “You’re kidding. Were you—?”

  “No. That was long before my birth. There are still sorcerers alive, though I’m told they’ve dwindled in number due to the small amount of magic left in this world.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them wide and said slowly, “So you’re saying there’s some sorcerer who has a hard-on for you . . . personally? Or is he, or she, just looking for any vampire to shoot at?”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to discover—the secret that you claim I’ve kept from you. Though I can’t see how knowing that would have changed your defensive strategy at all.”

  “Defensively, you’re probably right. But if I’d known there was some wacko sorcerer lurking around who could . . . what? Open a magical door for his people to walk through? Where are they going, by the way? How far?”

  “To know that, I need to discover who this sorcerer is.”

  “Have you made any progress?”

  “Not yet, but he has to have a hiding place nearby. I’ve consulted a few others, who are older and more knowledgeable about such things, and they all tell me the same thing—that the sorcerer has to be here in order to send his people to safety.”