Christian (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 10) (30 page)

Natalie tightened her jaw, hating to admit Jaclyn was right. But she still didn’t know everything that Natalie knew. “You’re not wrong about the house, but it doesn’t
matter
. Christian doesn’t know that he’s on his own. Scoville told him that help was coming, that
Vincent
was coming. But he’s not. Anthony sent him to the other side of Mexico! I have to warn Christian.”

“Did you try calling him?’ Jaclyn asked patiently.

“Of course, I did,” she snapped. “It was the first thing I thought of, but he’s not answering.”

“He probably turned everything off. No distractions on the battlefield,” Jaclyn mused. “It’s what I would do.”

“Well, whatever his reasons, I can’t reach him, which means I have to go there—”

“And become the biggest distraction of all.”

That gave Natalie pause. Jaclyn was right. Christian would worry more about protecting her than himself. And that could get him killed. But she couldn’t sit here and do
nothing
. “Christian needs what I know,” she insisted.

Jaclyn sighed. “He’s probably figured it out by now, but I’ll send Cibor to be sure. And you’re not going, even if I have to lock you up. Cibor can get there faster without you, and he’s one hell of a fighter.”

Natalie’s heart was urging her to go, to find her own way there and rush to Christian’s side. But her very excellent brain shut that idea down almost before it started. Jaclyn was right. Christian needed Cibor right now a lot more than he did Natalie.

She sighed deeply, and mumbled, “Okay.”

“It’s for the best, sugar. But I’ll come over and keep you company, anyway. We’re on our way.”

Laredo, TX, on the Mexican border

CHRISTIAN STARED out the window as the helicopter swooped low over the border outpost. Its belly lights illuminated an adobe-style building that appeared abandoned. There were no guards in sight, despite the chopper hovering noisily overhead, and no lights were on anywhere in the building. What the hell had happened here? Had Hubert already attacked and moved on?

As the helicopter circled, he swept the area with his power, searching for life forms of any kind. He caught a drift of something strong enough to bring all of his senses to full alert, but then it was gone, like a scent blown in from far away, and stirred up by the chopper blades. He frowned, considering the possibilities. It could be nothing, a trace left over from the many vampires who’d occupied this outpost. Or it could be Hubert. The ancient vampire might have clamped down on his power a second too late to conceal it from Christian, which meant he was close. The possibility made him uneasy, but not as uneasy as the abandoned outpost did. Where were the vampires who should have been stationed here? Where was Scoville?

Christian studied the lone outpost building, looking for answers as the helicopter made its landing approach. The structure was big enough to hide a lot of vampires, and there was certain to be a basement. Maybe Anthony’s people had hidden themselves down there, wanting Hubert to think the place abandoned, so they could spring an ambush.

He continued his sweep of the area, probing as deeply as his considerable power would let him. He found nothing and no one, until the helicopter dropped low enough to land, and then he faltered under the assault. The outpost was a graveyard. It stank of very recent violence and death. Everyone who’d been here in the last twenty-four hours was dead. Friend or enemy, it didn’t matter.

The chopper settled on the ground, skids sinking into the soft dirt. Christian slapped Marc on the shoulder, then stepped out, adopting a crouching run until he cleared the rotor blades, then straightening to look around.

“I’m not sensing anyone,” Marc said quietly, his voice troubled as he came up next to Christian.

“There’s nothing to feel but death,” Christian told him, then stiffened to attention and spun around.

“You’re too late,” a rough voice said from within the darkness of the open door.

Christian stepped in front of Marc as a figure appeared. His face was in shadow, but Christian could read the exhaustion in his body language, could see the blood draining from multiple wounds in his chest that obviously wouldn’t heal.

“Who—” he started to say, but then the person emerged fully, and he recognized him. “Scoville?” he said in surprise. “What the hell happened here?”

Scoville smiled bitterly, and took a stumbling step forward. Marc rushed over to help, slinging the other vampire’s arm over his shoulder and easing him over to a nearby wall to sit. Christian watched without saying anything, while Scoville tried to catch his breath. He must have been shielding like crazy to conceal himself from Christian’s initial sweep. Why?

“I didn’t know who you were,” Scoville said, anticipating Christian’s question. “I thought it was Anthony, coming to make sure of his work.”

“You’re saying
Anthony
did all of this?”

Scoville spit a gob of blood onto the muddy ground. “Not in person. He leads from the rear, especially if the front involves dying. But it wasn’t supposed to be like this.
You
were supposed to die, not everyone else.”

Marc stood with a hiss of anger, distancing himself from Scoville, putting himself between the injured vampire and Christian.

Christian touched Marc’s shoulder, and moved around him. He needed to talk to Scoville, needed to see the vampire, to judge what he was saying. “So this was all a trap. You wanted me down here.” He shrugged. “Here I am. So what happens next? And why shouldn’t I kill you right now?”

He laughed bitterly. “Go ahead. I’m a dead man either way. Anthony told me to call you, said he’d send a chopper to get me before you ever got here. Everyone else was supposed to die. He
wanted
you to see this, to see what Hubert could do and be afraid. He wanted you to
die
afraid. But he lied . . . again.” Another laugh, this was weak and breathy, as if the recitation was taking his last strength.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised. All he does is lie. There was never a chopper to whisk me away to safety. You were right all along. I was never more than a stalking horse, a sacrifice to make things look good. But Anthony’s had another candidate in mind all along.”

“Who?” Christian demanded. None of this was making sense.

“Hubert,” Scoville said, his face bleak as he raised his head to stare at Christian. “Anthony made a deal with Hubert in exchange for New Orleans. Raphael wanted out of the South, and Anthony knew he couldn’t hold the territory on his own. So he called Hubert. Anthony gets the greater New Orleans region as a new territory of his very own, not beholden to Hubert or anyone else. And Hubert gets all the rest of the South.”

“Fuck,” Christian said softly. That made a terrible sense, especially coming from Hubert. That’s the way it was in Europe, a hundred little territories in the same amount of space where in North America, there would be only one. It was why the European continent was so damn crowded, and why they wanted North America so badly. But Anthony? Jesus, he’d sacrificed his own people,
murdered
his own people, to further his greed and ambition. Had he really believed the North American Council would accept him after this? That they’d add a seat for the Lord of New Orleans, as if nothing had happened? He was fool. Raphael was already gunning for him over what he’d done to Cibor. Add this to his crimes, and the entire Council would hunt him down and execute him. Vampire law stated that might was right, but not when you butchered your own people to gain territory.

“What about Vincent?” he asked Scoville. “Is he a part of it?”

Scoville shook his head slowly. He was slumped over, barely able to sit, as if the effort of talking to Christian had drained what little strength he had left. “Sorry,” he gasped. “I used everything I had left to hide from your scan.” He swallowed dryly, then said, “Anthony didn’t confide in me . . . obviously. But I knew Vincent pretty well when he was still Enrique’s lieutenant, and I don’t think he’d go along with this.”

Christian glanced up and met Marc’s worried gaze. “I wonder if he even spoke to Vincent?”

“So, let’s get the fuck out of here,” Marc suggested.

But Christian shook his head. We’re not done yet,” he said, remembering that brief whiff of power he’d detected. “Anthony didn’t trick us down here for nothing. Hubert’s on his way, and it’s up to us to stop him somehow. Our friend here lied about everything else, but not that. If we don’t manage to stop Hubert, he’ll march up the 35, killing as he goes. It’s what he does.”

Scoville gave another weak cough, and Christian eyed the injured vampire. He required blood, but the only humans available were the chopper pilots—assuming they’d even volunteer, which he doubted. Besides, they’d be needed at full strength later to do their job. He grimaced. He hated giving his own blood to save the bastard, but he needed vampires, and Scoville was the only one available. Assuming he’d step up and fight.

“What’s your plan, Scoville?” he asked. “What’s next?”

“There is no next. I’m dying. It’s a question of minutes, not hours.”

“What if I agreed to help you?”

“Why would you do that?”

Christian shrugged. “I need firepower, and you’re it. I assume you can fight, and I’ve felt your power. You have enough to make a difference if we all stand together. If not . . . your dust will be a fine addition to the landscape.”

Scoville didn’t say anything, just hung his head and breathed for long enough that Christian thought he might be dying right now. But then he lifted his head, and said, “I’ll stand with you. I’ll fight. Not because I give a fuck about you or your ambitions. Because of the vampires who fought and died here tonight believing help was coming, believing their rightful lord was on his way. I give a fuck about
them
. And I want to see Anthony pay.” He was gasping for breath after that speech.

Christian eyed him for a moment, then sighed, knowing what he had to do. He pulled off his leather jacket, and shoved up the long sleeve of his T-shirt.

Marc put a hand on his arm, and said, “Let me.”

But Christian shook his head. “This is my duty, not yours,
mon ami
.” He lifted his forearm to his mouth and dug in his fangs, opening a vertical slash down the center to his wrist. Scoville’s head came up at the rich smell of blood, his eyes taking on a yellowed gleam. This was the blood of a powerful vampire, a vampire strong enough to rule a territory. It was ambrosia, catnip to a vampire’s senses. And it was life itself to a vampire as wounded as Scoville.

“You have a name besides Scoville?” Christian asked tightly.

Scoville shook his head. “Not anymore, my lord.”

Christian nodded. “All right. Scoville, do you come to me of your own free will and desire?”

He nodded, his yellowed gaze never leaving the rich bounty of blood now dripping down to pool in Christian’s cupped palm. “I do, my lord,” he whispered.

“And is this what you truly desire?”

“It is my truest desire.”

“Then drink, Scoville, and be mine.”

Scoville cupped Christian’s hand in both of his, holding it reverently as he leaned forward to lap up the blood. He licked Christian’s palm nearly clean, then followed the flow of red up to his wrist, where he latched on and began sucking.

Christian imagined that he could feel every tug of Scoville’s mouth from his vein all the way to his heart. This was going to cost him before the battle was over. He needed all of his strength for what was coming, but he couldn’t simply let Scoville die. He wasn’t Anthony. He lifted his other hand, ready to tap the vamp out, to tell him that it was time to stop . . . When suddenly there was a surge of power nearby.

“Scoville,” he said urgently. “Enough.” He disengaged without waiting, holding his wrist, and squeezing the two sides of the wound together. It would heal fast, but not fast enough. Not for what was coming. “Marc,” he said, turning to his lieutenant. “I need to wrap this right now.”

Marc nodded and ran for the chopper, which was still on the ground, rotor still turning. There was a first aid kit in there. Christian had noticed it on the flight over. Marc disappeared into the helicopter briefly, then jumped down with the white metal box in his hand. He opened it and set it on the wall. Scoville had slipped all the way to the ground and now sat there, breathing slow and heavy, almost as if he was drugged. Which he was, in a way. Christian only hoped he’d come around before Hubert attacked.

Ripping open a roll of gauze, Marc wrapped Christian’s torn wrist, layer after layer, using almost the entire roll, before he ripped the material off and dropped the roll back into the box. Tearing the end in two, he tied off the bandage, then looked up to study Christian carefully. “Are you good to go?” he asked.

Christian nodded, flexing his hand and wrist as he yanked his T-shirt sleeve back down. “It takes more than this to knock me out of a fight.”

“That’s good, because if what I’m feeling is right—”

“It is,” Christian confirmed.

“Then hell itself is about to descend on us.”

Christian agreed completely with Marc’s assessment. Hell was indeed about to descend on them, and all he had to fight it with was Marc and a blood-drunk Scoville. “I’ll take Hubert,” he told Marc. “You and Scoville—” He looked down at the sated vampire. “You ready to fight?” he asked.

The vampire sucked in a deep breath, shook all over like a wet dog, then climbed to his feet slowly, but with surprising grace. “Ready and willing, my lord,” he said, his voice gravelly but strong. “Let’s kill those fuckers.”

“Fuckin’ A,” Marc agreed.

Christian smiled, despite the grim circumstances. “I don’t know what Hubert’s bringing to the fight, but I guarantee we’ll be badly outnumbered. So we fight as a team, covering each other’s backs. Once Hubert shows his face, I’ll go after him. We have a history, and he’ll want to settle it. I was supposed to be fighting
with
him, not against him. But no one checked with me first. I had no interest in gaining the South for
him
when I wanted it for myself. That didn’t make him happy. So I think he’ll want a one-on-one. That means I shouldn’t have to worry about his other vampires coming at me while we’re fighting, but stay alert in case I’m wrong.”