Exist (Vampire Assassin League Book 30) (8 page)

“Yes.”

“Okay. Thank you.” She hiccupped as she exhaled.

Anso didn’t wait to hear it. They were already inside the door, facing what looked like miles of metal-sheathed tunnel. The ground was earthen. Dark. Damp. It was instantly much quieter. Anso gripped her tighter to his left side and leapt forward. And then he was flying.

Literally.

The air was immediately cold. Brisk. It whipped at her clothing and hair, drying both. The ribbed tunnel blurred into a solid stream of dull silver tones. She watched it happen.

That still didn’t mean she had to believe it.

Anso had never fought under restrictions like this. Always before, he’d killed without compunction. Used his bow for distance shots. Hacked his way with sword and dagger at close range. He’d taken on multitudes with pleasure. Left a bloodbath. It was his signature. The larger the horde facing him, the better he liked it. Centuries had passed while his hits raised barely an eyebrow. Now – depending on the country - an assignment could engender all manner of unwanted scrutiny. Global news coverage. His assassinations could usually be attributed to war. Men always seemed to fight for the same reasons. Resources such as farming land. Water. Precious minerals. Religion. And power. Somebody was always trying to subdue someone else. Humankind just couldn’t seem to get along with each other...but that did offer a lot of perfect killing ground.

His head grazed the line of fluorescent tube lighting as he flew. The complication of leaving his foes breathing added an edge of danger he hadn’t felt in millennia. His pulse ramped up. His muscle went taut. His breathing quickened, each one was deeper and heavier, air filling his lungs before he expelled it. This sensation was heady.

Exciting.

Addictive.

A large fence blocked further passage, backed by two guards. A dog. They had a camp stove burning. One man waved his hands above it, warming them. Anso’s approach wasn’t even noticed. He yanked Leah more tightly against him, turned, and slammed through the obstruction with his right shoulder. One guard got enmeshed in chain-link, rendering him useless, semi-conscious, but alive. The other ricocheted off a wall. The camp stove went flying, spewing heated coals that sputtered and sizzled. Neither man got a shot off. The dog didn’t react.

Anso could hear the next batch of guards. Talking. Laughing. They didn’t have any reaction to having security breached. Because they were at least a hundred yards away. Whatever organization manned this complex, the leaders needed a course on military strategy. The guard stations were spaced too far apart. They were obviously not expecting trouble, and if it came, they were counting on an alarm being given.

And they were lax.

Anso stopped at a corner, pulled in a breath. Held it. And then peeked. He had three men to get through next. They stood in a semi-circle around another stove, warming hands. Humans and their frailties. Anso wasn’t remotely cold. Then again, the excitement of this venture might be cancelling sensations such as temperature.

One guard scratched at his groin before hefting his gun into a more comfortable position on his shoulder. The other two were unarmed, their weapons leaning up against the wall behind them. No dogs. Leah was breathing rapidly, but nothing that troubled. She was the perfect companion.

Anso leaned over to her ear.

“I must do this on my own,
lioban.
”

Anso whispered it before loosening his arm. He settled her on the ground beside him. Smiled at what looked like real concern in her eyes.

“I will come back for you. Please. Stay here.”

She tilted her head. Anso took it for agreement. And moved.

He leapt into the midst of the guards. Kicked the armed man into the fellow standing beside him. The hit probably broke bone, as did the landing, but he wasn’t slicing off heads. Nothing appeared lethal. The next guard got back-handed into the opposite wall. This mode of warfare was beginning to be enjoyable as well as exciting. Anso was grinning as Leah reached him, holding a wad of skirts in her arms.

His grin faded as she looked up at him.

“You are...well?” he asked with a whisper.

She looked over the three guards as if assessing mortality rate. And then she looked back up at him. The mass of fabric in her arms looked unwieldy. It also drew attention to her bosom. Anso swallowed and looked away before the lust for battle turned into something else.

She was just so womanly!

So fair!

So endearing.

With a sigh, Anso pulled her close and hugged her to him. The move lifted her. He bent to press a kiss to the top of her head. She was the perfect heft. Size. Weight.

“You handle yourself well,
weibchan.
”

“What?”

“You have done this before?”

“Done what?”

“Gone into battle.”

“Battle? Right. This? Well...it’s a lot like watching a movie, but it’s not that bad. I mean no one is bleeding yet.”

Anso smiled. “True.”

“Look. I had a boyfriend who was a fighter. The hard-core kind. Bare fisted. No holds barred. He won the Thursday Night Fights once.”

His eyebrows rose. “You seem to wish my anger,
lioban
. That is unreasonable, as well as impossible. I find you too wondrously fair. The greatest gift. And I am your willing admirer.”

“I wish your anger? Why on earth would you say that?”

“You mention prior men in your life to me. You do it...oft.”

“Oh. I do not.”

He lifted an eyebrow. She blinked a few times.

“Look. Anso. If I did something like that, it might be a sign of self-esteem issues. Relational problems. Sufferers don’t feel attractive, so they continually bring up prior relationships as proof of their desirability. It makes for some bad dating experiences. I deal with this kind of thing a lot in my practice.”

“This is an issue with you?”

“Heck no.”

“You are certain?”

Her face went completely expressionless. “Why don’t we just get back to you handling the knock-down/drag-out portion of this rescue, and leave the psychoanalysis to me. Okay?”

He considered her for a long moment. Listened to her heart beating in rhythm with his. Thought about asking the definition of that word before deciding it was of little importance. His mate was perfection. Womanly beauty personified. It didn’t matter if she worried over it or not. He had eternity to make certain she knew the truth.

He finally nodded.

“All right, then. Let’s get cracking. We don’t have time for this right now, anyway.”

“Cracking?”

“It means get going. Fire up the jets. You know – move.”

“Why do you not just say that?”

“Good question. I don’t have an answer right now. Maybe because it grounds me. Makes me feel normal in an abnormal situation. I don’t know. I’ll figure it out later. If I’m still stuck in this delusion, that is.”

“This is not a delu—”

“Don’t say it, okay? Just. Don’t.”

Anso shook his head at her stubbornness, before picking her back up and moving. The next challenge was another trio of guards, this one situated even farther down the tunnel. A quick scan of their area showed them just as unprepared and lax. Two played cards. One doodled in the earthen floor with a knife blade. Nobody wore a gun at their shoulder.

Anso swiveled and set Leah down. Met her gaze. Lifted his brows. She nodded. He didn’t wait another moment. He launched into the midst of guards, scattering the cards. A kick sent one guard toward a wall. He back-handed the other into unconsciousness before making a fist. That hit broke the fellow’s jawbone, barely managing to keep from killing him. But Anso hadn’t been quick enough. The fellow had struck with his knife. The blade had found an open spot on his side. Just above the belt. Anso grunted. Leah raced to him. Looked at the knife. Back to his face. And then she started hyperventilating, dragging his every breath into sync.

And he had to change that.

“Calm, little one.”

“But, Anso! You’ve been stabbed!”

“Leah. Please.”

The rate of her breathing made him dizzy. Weakened his limbs. Added difficulty without reason. Anso groaned as he reached over, grabbed the hilt now slippery with blood, and yanked the knife out. He tossed it. Red fluid spewed outward before he could get a palm in place to clamp. Squeeze. The sight of so much blood affected him, however. He wasn’t strong enough at the moment to fight against it. His canines tingled and then elongated. Thirst grew in his mouth. It almost overrode the pain of his injury. Fiery sensation shot through him even as he realized it should probably hurt more. And Leah wouldn’t cease hyperventilating. Anso swayed slightly. Locked his knees to remain upright. Tightened the arm about her. Shook her slightly.

“Leah. Stop this! Please? You must...calm yourself. Breathe...normally.”

“Oh, Anso! You’re wounded! That’s a lot of blood! You’re going to die!”

He smiled down at her, but it was probably a grimace. His fangs were on full display, too.

“I am...immortal,
lioban.
Please. I beg you. Calm yourself. This is nothing.”

Her eyes went huge. She sucked in a breath. And then – thank the gods – she held it for a few moments before easing air back out. Her next breath was slower. The next followed it. And the next. His legs quit trembling. His vision cleared.

“You really...aren’t going to die?” she whispered.

“No.”

“Promise?”

He twisted. Lifted his hand. The wound had already ceased bleeding. It was starting to knit. She viewed it then looked up at him with an expression of astonishment.

“It’s healing!”

Her whisper was loud. He almost shushed her, but it wasn’t necessary. The guards were stationed too far apart to hear. And her astonishment was like music to his ears. She had no choice but to believe him now.

“Yes,” he finally answered.

“Oh, no. No. No. Just...no.”

“Hang on, my love. It is almost over.”

She stiffened. He looked back at her. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. She appeared to focus on his neck armor. “What is it?”

“You just called me...your love.”

“Yes. I did. Because you are.”

“Anso.”

She started trembling. He moved closer. She stepped a corresponding distance back. Anso had to look aside for a moment. Blink against a stab of something at his eyes that he’d never admit. She was holding her mass of skirts to her breast, almost like a shield.

“I do not understand, Leah. I have called you that since we met. That is what
lioban
means. I told you as much. Remember?”

“I know. It just sounds...so different in English. Like it’s
real
.”

Anso rolled his eyes and slowly shook his head. “Women. I shall never understand them. I swear. You ready to go, then? We are almost there.”

“How do you know that?”

“There was a chart in the file. You didn’t note it?”

“I was spying! Okay? People who are being sneaky are usually being hasty, too. They’re afraid of getting caught! I didn’t see everything. Okay?”

Anso started to chuckle, but caught it in the event she took offense. His mate was thoroughly amusing. Entertaining. And completely engaging. He couldn’t wait to finish this, and show her just how much.

The man they were supposed to rescue didn’t look like he expected one. Or desired it, for that matter.

Actually...

Leah narrowed her eyes against the onslaught of light. After the fairly dim span of tunnels they’d sped through, the room they found themselves in was overly bright. Painted a perky shade of yellow that was almost cheerful. She trailed Anso as he chucked the last guard into the room ahead of them. The man grunted as he hit a bench, and then subsided to the floor, proving not only that he probably still lived, but Anso wasn’t experiencing any weakness from his wound, either.

Leah glanced at Anso’s side. Her heart gave a huge throb. Her knees wobbled. She stumbled, the move dropping her skirts.

Oh. My. Stars.

Anso didn’t have a wound! There was just a lot of blood where he’d been stabbed. And it wasn’t dry. Her upper teeth tingled as if that meant something. Leah ran her tongue along them just to make sure everything was normal and sane, and then she looked at the man they’d come to rescue. Her tongue stalled. Her jaw slackened. And everything else came to a jerking halt.

There was a fellow at the far end of the room, almost a perfect match to Anso in size and age. He looked them over for a span before his upper lip lifted in a sneer. It was an insolent gesture. Coming from a god-like position. He was sitting in a chair – a really large chair. It had been set atop concrete blocks, making it appear even larger. Throne-like. As if a king sat there.

The report she’d glimpsed hadn’t been enough preparation for this! She’d scanned the screen of Anso’s laptop. She’d seen the words Viking. Icelandic. Large. She didn’t know they’d meant the equivalent of the Norse god, Thor.

And the report said he had an identical twin?

Holy shit.

Seeing two of these guys at the same time would be grounds for swooning.

If she hadn’t met Anso, this guy would have been unbelievable...except, maybe at an Olympic-level wrestling event. He wore a sleeveless leather tunic trimmed with ermine. Large embossed silver bands encased his biceps, showing off muscle definition. His knee-high leather boots were trimmed with the same fur as his tunic. That attire put a lot of thigh on display. It was as muscled as the rest of him. A large sword rested negligently in his hand, tip down, almost boring into a concrete block. His hand tightened on the hilt as he stood. The chair creaked. Leah’s jaw finished dropping. And she wasn’t even into blondes.

But she knew a major babe when she saw one.

This guy was major league babe. Why...if she hadn’t had her fantasy man brought to life in the physical form of Anso, she’d be salivating here.

Okay.

It would probably be closer to drooling.

He stepped down off his pedestal, placing him on the same level as Anso. There he stopped, matching Anso in posture. The two men just stood, tensing muscles while they faced each other, sizing each other up. There was a distinct vibe running through the room. It carried emotion. Threat. Tons of testosterone. Shivers ran her skin as she sensed it. Leah looked from Thor to Anso and back to Thor, wondering if she was about to see a male pissing match come to life here.

“You are Athlerod?” Anso asked.

“Who are you?”

“Anso.”

“Are you a Hunter?”

“Why? Were you expecting one?”

“You’re from VAL., then?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not going back.”

“Nobody asked you to.”

Athlerod grunted. He sounded a lot like Anso when he did it. It must be a male thing. A big-guy, male thing. Leah looked away before they saw her expression.

“What country spawned you?” Athlerod asked.

“None.”

“You’re not a vampire?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“What did you say?”

“It was not a country back then.”

“Do you even know?”

Anso breath hitched slightly before resuming. Leah knew it because hers did the same thing. He didn’t give any other sign that the comment bothered him.

“I was a chieftain. Germanic. We didn’t have a name. We didn’t need one.”

Leah’s brows lifted. Anso hadn’t told her his title, but she’d suspected royalty. Too bad she wasn’t a history aficionado. She’d know for certain what he spoke of.

“Were you a Teuton?”

“That is one of the names history has given us.”

“Really? Well...we used to gather our slaves from your tribes. Sold them in the caravan cities. Made a lot of gold.”

Whoa.

Athlerod’s comment was designed to get a negative reaction. It matched his stance, and his air of defiance. Her first impression had been wrong. The blonde fellow lacked maturity. He wasn’t near Anso’s age. She’d guess mid-twenties – at most. And it was growing obvious to her. He was suffering. She just didn’t know why, or what, or how deeply. Leah noted that Anso stiffened slightly at the insult. That was the only physical sign.

“I thought you were an Icelandic Viking,” he finally replied.

“Yeah. So?”

“Icelanders were not the scourge of the forest zones. It was the Swedes. We called them
Rus
.”

Oh! Cool.
She hadn’t known that, either. She supposed that was how Russia got its name.

“Are you calling me a liar?”

Athlerod took a step away from his chair. Anso folded his arms as if he faced a selection of wares for purchase, not an arrogant, aggressive Viking in the prime of life. One, furthermore, who was obviously spoiling for a fight. Leah just couldn’t decide if he liked fighting and Anso was a distinct challenge, or if he suffered a Borderline Personality Disorder. That might explain why he was exhibiting such aggressive tendencies.

“No,” Anso replied.

“Are you that weak, old man?” Athlerod countered.

“You have a strange attitude for a youngster.”

“Young? Who are you calling young? I was turned in the year 985.”

“810,” Anso replied.

Oh. Brother
. Looked like the pissing match was still on and happening.

“I can still take you.”

“Is that what you want? Another fight?”

“Well, at least this time I might have a challenge, although you are a lot older than I’m used to.”

Another insult?

Leah watched Anso absorb it, and then ignore it. A sense of pride swelled within her at watching him. That was ridiculous. The entire episode was. But, it fit perfectly with a delusion. Very little made sense until you listed things, sectioned them for analysis, and assigned reason. This particular delusion was going to take any psychologist’s entire career to figure out.

“Wasn’t your performance two nights past enough for you?” Anso finally asked with a nonchalant tone.

“You heard about that?”

“Why else would I be here?”

“You came because I won the Underground Fight?”

Anso chuckled. “I don’t care how many fights you start, Athlerod. I don’t even care how many you win. You’re a vampire. Winning against a human is a foregone conclusion.”

“I didn’t do it for the win.”

“Then, why did you do it?”

Athlerod lifted his sword toward Anso. Bent his knees slightly, and shuffled a step nearer. “I don’t have to answer that. Now. Get your sword out, old man.”

“We don’t have time for this.”

“You scared?”

“Not hardly.”

“Then why won’t you fight me?”

“I told you. We don’t have time. Now come.”

“You expect me to go with you without a fight?”

“Yes.”

“Forget it. You can just go back to Akron and tell him I’m not interested.”

“Akron didn’t send me.”

“Really? Then, who did?”

“Nigel.”

Athlerod looked surprised for a moment and then he started chuckling. It took a few moments before he sobered enough to explain. “Well. I can see why he didn’t come himself.”

“Really? Why?”

Athlerod gave Anso a deadpan expression. “He’s a pipsqueak. A large breath will knock him over.”

“He is running the desk.”

“Yeah. So? What is that supposed to mean? You think I’m afraid of him?”

“No, but you should be.”

“Why?”

“You garnered attention.”

“Not the right kind, obviously. And not enough.”

Whoa. Leah.

That answer was a distinct clue. Athlerod wanted attention. He didn’t care what kind he got, negative or positive. Both were signs of a Borderline Personality Disorder. There was a root cause. Since he was vampiric, she could probably rule out substance abuse or medical condition. That left traumatic event. Now, she just needed to find out what it was.

“You wish attention? Is that why you took on forty-one fighters, one-at-a-time?”

“I took on forty-
two
fighters! All at the same time! Why do you think I got arrested?”

“You are not under arrest.”

Athlerod straightened. Frowned. “What do you call this?”

“A bidding war. With you as the prize.”

“What?”

“You don’t understand?”

Athlerod shook his head.

“Your performance got attention, all right. You have eight Fight Managers haggling over you. The World Wrestling Federation is on its way here with a contract offer, and at least two countries are sending representatives from their Olympic Committees.”

“That’s stupid. The Czech Republic already has me.”

“They got out-bid early. Now, they’re just holding out for the highest bidder.”

“Really? That’s...fantastic news! Better than I hoped! I’ll be famous! Beethan’s Hunters can’t possibly fail to hear about me!”

“Organized sports have medical tests.”

“So?”

“You are a vampire. Your blood cannot be tested!”

“Better and better!”

“Stupid fool! You are part of a covert organization. There are consequences to what you have done.”

“Are you here to carry them out?”

“If necessary.”

“Good. That works, too.”

The man lifted his sword and this time he slashed the air with it. Leah was looking at a severe case of Intermittent Explosive Disorder, brought on to cause harm – mostly to himself. But...the root question was why?

Why?

Anso failed to take the bait again. He looked at the Viking for long moments and then sighed. “We really don’t have time for this.”

“Make time!”

Athlerod lunged forward and swung his sword. Leah’s cry was cut off by the ringing sound of blade upon blade. Anso had freed his weapon with a lightning-quick move and he used it to defend. Countless times. Against multiple blows. And then he attacked. Leah hadn’t stayed around to watch the first of it. She’d grabbed up her skirts, raced to the concrete blocks, climbed them, and then stood in the chair. She was out of danger, but situated perfectly for observing. The men looked equal on so many fronts: Fitness level. Training. Expertise with a sword. They continually hammered at each other, their movements encompassing the entire span of floor space. Muscles strained. Grunts filled the room. They were interspersed with the continual ringing sound of steel against steel. That was loud. It echoed.

And this was getting serious.

Anso was going to win. She watched the battle tip his way. He had experience. It showed. His blows began to back up the Viking. And then he used his hilt for hitting. Athlerod took a blow to his arm that stunned. His sword arm lowered. That gave Anso an opening for a blow to the Viking’s chin.

The man went down heavily. Onto his back. Although only a hint of a thudding sound accompanied it. Anso was atop him, a knee on the Viking’s chest and his blade pressed against the other man’s throat.

“Wait! Anso! No! Wait!”

Stupid dress
.

Leah grabbed the wad of velvet and jumped down. Her feet stung. Her thighs jiggled. Her breasts nearly fell from the bodice. She ignored all of that to reach Anso. She grabbed his sword arm with both hands and hung on.

“Please. Wait!”

Anso turned his head to regard her. He didn’t release the Viking. And Athlerod wasn’t any help. He looked up at her with vivid ice-blue eyes. Then he winked. And spoke. His throat immediately welled blood from a thin slice across it from Anso’s blade.

“Who is the
vif
?” Athlerod asked.

Vif
must be another word for female. Leah wasn’t asking. She didn’t care.

“My mate,” Anso replied.

“Truly? Lucky
pokker.
She is very beautiful. Lush. Soft. Womanly.” And then he growled as if for emphasis.

His motions brought more blood to the cut on his throat. He swallowed, and it started pooling. And then it began to drip off both sides. Leah couldn’t seem to move. Her breath quickened. Her mouth watered. Her teeth started tingling again. Leah forced her gaze away. Back to Athlerod’s. She regarded him for long moments as he did her. She squeezed her hands on Anso’s bicep. He eased up his pressure.