Xavier: Vampires in Europe (Vampires in America Book 14) Page 26

  Recognizing signs of imminent give in the door, he tempered his hold so that when it finally surrendered to his strength, he wasn’t knocked into the street like a hapless dummy.

  “See what you can do with that, Chuy,” he ordered as he strode into the building, every sense on alert. His lieutenant wouldn’t be able to fix the door, but he could repair it sufficiently that it would function, and at first glance, would appear undamaged, especially in dark of early morning. It would open when pulled, and Sakal was far too weak to detect Xavier’s presence, especially since once they were inside and the ambush set, he would shield himself completely.

  The minute the door opened, Xavier was bombarded by the reek of sorcery. If he’d had any doubts that this was the sorcerer’s lair, they vanished in that instant. Sakal had been living and practicing his magic here much longer than Xavier had guessed. It irritated him that he hadn’t sniffed out even the softest whisper of the sorcerer’s presence before the attacks. He’d been too confident that the city was his, too focused on problems and building alliances farther from home.

  The air inside was frigid, as if the air-conditioning was set to run continually. Freezing air gusted down the short entrance way, caught by bare walls and a marble floor that was so cold, he could feel it through his boots. What the hell did Sakal have in here that he needed the temperature barely above freezing? Or maybe the question was who. He scowled, reminding himself that zombies weren’t real, and vampires weren’t dead, for fuck’s sake. Maybe the asshole just liked it cold.

  The freezing effect eased when he reached the end of the semi-enclosed entrance, roughly eight feet from the now-repaired door. He turned when Chuy came up next to him. “I’m stepping out first. Give me five minutes,” he telepathed. “Then follow, if you can. No heroics, Chuy.”

  His lieutenant snorted his reply to that, and Xavier knew the vamp would go down fighting no matter what he said. As one of his children, Chuy was hardwired to defend his Sire with no regard for his own life. Although that cowardly fucker Dênis had proven, all those years ago, that the wiring could be overcome.

  Xavier’s expression split in a fang-bearing grin, not only ready for battle, but looking forward to it. Because Chuy wasn’t the only one with hardwiring. Xavier was a fucking vampire lord. Violence was a beast that ran with the blood in his veins, and he was ready to set it free.

  He stepped beyond the walls of the entrance and found . . . nothing. Not on this floor. No one breathed, no hearts beat, no scent gave away their presence. He straightened from the ready position he’d assumed, expecting some level of opposition to be waiting for him. “What the fuck?”

  They were standing in a huge, wide-open space that wouldn’t have been out in place in a cathedral or a palace. Or a bank, for that matter, which probably was what it had once been. The ceiling soared into a glass-topped dome that appeared as if it would admit light during the bright of day. It wasn’t exactly the preferred arrangement for a vampire, no matter that he could hide downstairs when the sun was shining. The room itself echoed the domed shape. An open mezzanine made up most of the room, the circle split by the foyer in which he stood. A bank of two elevators was behind him to his left, and a narrow set of stairs on his right climbed to the mezzanine. Four elaborately carved columns, at least six feet around each, supported the mezzanine. Their design was repeated in much narrower posts which supported the half-height bannister providing safety for anyone walking around up there.

  Not that anyone was. It was as empty as what he could see of the first floor. Which was most of it, judging by the layout.

  “Why leave it deserted like this?” Chuy whispered, as if there was anyone to hear. Or maybe it was just the cathedral-like atmosphere.

  “They’re hiding somewhere. Check the upstairs,” he said, indicating the mezzanine with a lift of his chin.

  Chuy nodded, took a running start, and leaped upward, swinging over the bannister with graceful ease.

  Xavier smiled and scanned the ground floor, walking over to where a simple wooden desk sat, with three chairs. Two in front, one behind. The incongruity of the inexpensive desk and chairs sitting in the midst of such conspicuous elegance stood out to him. It also surprised him, because Sakal had always been fastidious about not only his personal appearance, but the presentation of anything related to him. If he had a desk, it had to be an antique. If there were fabrics, they were the world’s most sought-after, the most expensive silks and brocades available. The room suited him, with its soaring architecture and overworked columns, the gold and crystal chandelier. Even the marble was beautiful, a delicately inlaid circular pattern, that glittered with gold and other minerals.

  But the desk apparently served a purpose. A quick search revealed basic tri-fold pamphlets, filled with pictures of the farm, along with happy faces enjoying communal meals and working in the fields and gardens. And then there were the prophet’s own words—sayings so patently self-conscious that Xavier could practically hear Sakal’s prim voice as he stood before his acolytes. What an ass.

  So the lair doubled as a recruiting center. Empty for the night, but Sakal must have someone manning the desk during the day. He turned to study the elevators, and pressed the button to call one. The overhead display showed both cars locked in the basement, which had to be where the sleeping quarters were located, since his scouts had verified Sakal’s pre-dawn arrival the previous day.

  Chuy’s soft footsteps announced his return via the stairs. “All empty up there, too, Sire. A lot of offices, but it doesn’t appear any of them are used.”

  “There’s a basement,” Xavier told him. “Elevator’s locked. We can’t get there, unless there’s another set of stairs going down.”

  “Not worth the effort,” Chuy observed. “No one we care about should be down there yet.”

  “No, I sense humans. No one else.” He shrugged. “This is essentially what we hoped to find. The only question is where to set up while waiting for Sakal to come home.”

  Xavier dropped his MP5 on the desk, irritated at having it around his neck when he wasn’t using it. He’d have plenty of warning to reclaim it before Sakal entered the building, and even then, he doubted he’d need it. Chuy followed suit and the two of them walked back out into the big room. Chuy gave the glass dome an unhappy glance, but Xavier was focused on the mezzanine. It was a good hiding place, but what if Sakal went straight for the elevator car? He could very well be inside, with the doors closed before Xavier reached him. Or maybe not. Xavier was a hell of a lot faster than Sakal, but the logistics could be better. He spun on his heel, eyeing what looked like a bar set-up on the far side of the main space, and tucked under the mezzanine on that side. He’d just reached it when his senses blared to life warning him that humans and something else were on the move from below.

  He ran for the elevators, with Chuy behind him, moving so fast that Xavier barely managed to grab his lieutenant’s arm, stopping his headlong rush into the energy barrier that had suddenly appeared to surround the entire domed space, trapping them inside.

  “Fuck.” Xavier’s curse was low and vicious. He couldn’t explain how it had been done, but suddenly, that damn sorcerer strolled out of the elevator, surrounded by six female bodyguards, every one of whom was blond, beautiful, and firm with muscle.

  He watched expressionless as Sakal approached the very edge of the marble circle, his gaze dancing with satisfaction, and his smile so smug that Xavier wondered if it hurt. He felt no fear. But then he’d never been afraid of Sakal. Magic was the sorcerer’s only weapon, and it didn’t work on him. The thought clicked over in his brain and he reached out with his power to barely brush against the enclosing wall of energy, testing its strength, its limits and vulnerabilities. He paid particular attention to the air above him and Chuy, wondering if the sorcerer had thought to make his spell all encompassing, or if he’d taken a shortcut and—Nope. Th
e energy field curved over his head, surrounding him on all sides, and as far as he could determine, disappeared into the floor. He doubted the floor itself was included in the spell, suspected it was impossible. But tunneling through marble wasn’t his first choice of escape.

  Fucking Sakal must have been working on this spell for months before he ever arrived in Barcelona, and then it would have taken him weeks more to cast it.

  Xavier didn’t care about Sakal’s pain and effort, other than as points of information to advise his own attack. He was already working on his first choice, which involved probing the field’s magical energy with that part of his own power that deflected magic. What he’d discovered so far was that in addition to being obnoxiously all-encompassing, the spell had several layers, each of which seemed to be a separate casting. Without appearing to be doing anything, he began actively working to break through the barrier. Every layer demanded a fresh effort, which only mattered because of the delay. His plan had been to ambush and kill Sakal when he returned to his lair for the sunrise.

  But right now, it was him and Chuy who’d been ambushed, stuck underneath a fucking glass dome inside a sorcerer’s complex spell, with the sun only minutes away from rising.

  Sensing movement, he shifted the focus out of his own head and onto Sakal, even as another of the spelled layers fell beneath his power, and he began working on the next. The sorcerer strolled closer, as if he had nothing to fear, despite Xavier’s vastly greater power. His expression was one of such confidence and satisfaction that Xavier knew the bastard didn’t realize his carefully crafted spell wouldn’t hold much longer. Xavier wasn’t the kind to taunt his enemies with details that could warn them, so he simply watched and waited, knowing Sakal wouldn’t be able to stand the silence. He’d break first, driven by a compulsion to boast about his own cleverness and a deep-seated need to be the smartest one in the room.

  “Lord Xavier,” Sakal crooned. “What a surprise.” The asshole was dressed in fighting leathers, which, had the situation been less dire, would have been laughable. He’d never been a warrior, had never learned even the most basic sword skills, claiming it was unnecessary since his magic would defend him.

  Xavier simply stared, most of his attention still focused on breaking the spell.

  “Nothing to say?” The sorcerer was pacing back and forth, moving leisurely, as if he had all the time in the world, despite the rising sun which was a growing fire in the back of Xavier’s skull. Sakal stopped his pacing abruptly, and directed an angry glare at Xavier, probably frustrated that his vision of this moment wasn’t working out as he’d hoped. Had he expected Xavier to beg?

  The thought had a slow smile lifting Xavier’s lips. Fury filled Sakal’s expression, his eyes gleaming with the dull red light of a weak vampire.

  Seeing that, Xavier’s smile broadened into a grin, but he still said nothing.

  One of Sakal’s women stepped up with a whispered warning that had the sorcerer glancing at the growing light above the glass dome. With obvious effort, he relaxed his expression once again, and pasted an insincere smile on his face. “Did you ever meet my brother?” he asked casually, eyes narrowing when Xavier remained silent. “No?” he continued. “I had two of them, and frankly three boys were too much for my fragile mother to handle. Too many to love. So she picked a favorite. You’d think that would have been me. I was the youngest, my magic was evident at a very early age, and my brothers were both common laborers. Physically strong, I suppose, but it was my magic that had the potential to bring riches to the family and change our lives forever.

  “And yet, it was my eldest brother she favored. The dullest of us all. But he was her firstborn, so perhaps that’s all it was. She loved the first child, and didn’t have any affection left for the rest of us.”

  Xavier had to fight against the urge to roll his eyes at this glimpse into Sakal’s psyche. Was he actually trapped in this damn circle because the crazy bastard had mommy issues? “This seems like a private issue you need to work out for yourself, Sakal,” he said finally. “I don’t need to be here for this.”

  Sakal spun on his heel and glared his hatred.

  “If looks could kill,” Xavier thought smugly, pleased that he’d gotten a rise out of the weasel. But he didn’t say anything more.

  “So clever, aren’t you?” the sorcerer snapped, then visibly pulled himself together. “Unfortunately, you do need to be here for this,” he said smoothly enough. “Because this is about revenge.”

  That surprised Xavier enough that he paused his digging at the spell, but only for a moment. “Revenge? For what?” He and Sakal had never gotten along, but they’d had very little to do with each other. He’d already left Josep’s court by the time he’d returned to fetch Sakal for him, and his power had been so much greater than the sorcerer’s that they’d had little in common after that.

  “For what?” Sakal hissed, no longer making any effort to disguise his emotions. His lips were drawn back over his fangs, his eyes still gleaming red. “For destroying my life, Ya Ibn el Sharmouta!”

  Xavier fought a smile at the Arabic curse, which reminded him that Sakal had been raised in what was now considered the Middle East. That might have accounted for his mother’s preference for her first-born son, and in turn, for Xavier’s current predicament. What a fucked-up world. But with the sun rising, he had no time to banter insults. And neither did Chuy. Feigning surprise, he said, “I wasn’t the one who made you Vampire. That was our Sire, Josep.”

  “The great Josep Alexandre.” Sakal all but spit the name. “He shredded my life for nothing.”

  Xavier raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You consented to the change. I was there. I heard you.”

  “For nothing,” he repeated furiously. “A life of wealth and power, never growing old, never having to face the great unknown of death. Meaningless promises, when the price was my magic, and the vampire power I acquired worth less than nothing.”

  Xavier shrugged. Josep had made no guarantees. They’d discussed the possibility that Sakal would lose his magic. Some Sires wouldn’t have bothered to warn him, but Josep had.

  “All right,” Xavier said agreeably. “You were angry, furious even, at Josep. But you killed him, didn’t you? Not yourself, of course. You wouldn’t risk your own life, but your assassin did his job well enough. So what’s that got to do with me?”

  “Because when I didn’t come through the transition as a powerful vampire, when even my magical birthright was diminished, Josep discarded me like week-old meat. Rotted and useless.”

  “Not useless,” Xavier corrected, as another spell layer surrendered with a lash of power that had him tensing for fear that Sakal would detect the change. “Though certainly not what he had hoped for when he chose you. He kept you at his court and even paid another sorcerer to restore your magic. Eventually.”

  “Yes. Eventually. And in the meantime, I was nothing. You left him, and still he favored you. He talked about you constantly. His greatest success, the golden one.”

  “I wasn’t there. Hell, I wasn’t even in the country sometimes. So why are you here? And why waste so much time and energy to acquire a pack of brain-dead acolytes who couldn’t carry a conversation if you gave them a cart to hold it.”

  Sakal surprised him by laughing. “You’re right about that much. Though they have been useful.” He dismissed his absent followers with a wave of his hand. “They’ll run back to the street when I’m gone from here. Or maybe they’ll continue to play farmer for a time. I don’t care which.”

  Xavier’s attention sharpened, though he maintained an air of disinterest. “You’re leaving?”

  The sorcerer snorted in dismissal. “You think my revenge ends with you? You’re an irritant, a fly in the ointment of history, one who’s already demanded far more attention than he deserves.” He drew close enough to stare into Xav
ier’s eyes from only inches away. “But you are the one who delivered me to Josep. I only wish he was still alive to witness the agony of your death. Would he suffer along with you? Would he feel your pain? Did he love you that much?”

  Before Xavier could answer, a soft chime announced the arrival of a second elevator, carrying another dozen female bodyguards. At first glance, they looked exactly like the others—blond, beautiful, and strong. No wonder his people had initially thought there were only three. Unless one paid very close attention, those he’d seen thus far were so identical as to be indistinguishable.

  The new arrivals marched up to Sakal and bowed with admirable precision, before one of them—presumably their leader—murmured, “It is time, my lord.” Her voice was low enough that she probably didn’t intend Xavier to overhear, though of course he did.

  “Yes. One of you seal the front door shut,” Sakal ordered, then swung his gaze back to Xavier. “He’ll sleep soon,” he told the woman. “And when he does, kill him. But not until after the sun has him screaming in agony. The spell circle that keeps him in won’t keep you out.”

  The woman’s cold eyes scraped over Xavier. “A pleasure, my lord. Thank you.”

  Sakal grunted an acknowledgement, then spun around, heading quickly for the elevator. Xavier’s voice stopped him.

  “How did you do it?” Xavier waited until Sakal was facing him again. “How did you manage to be in two places at once? Not even you can do that.”

  Sakal’s sudden grin was almost playful, a child whose trick had fooled everyone. “The eldest brother I mentioned, the one my mother favored? We look a great deal alike. When I knew what Josep had done to me, the centuries it would take for my sorcery to recover, I began plotting my revenge. So I turned my brother—”