They Come by Night (45 page)

“Are you sure?”

He petted my hair. “Aren’t you my sabor
?
”

“Always,
always
!”

“There, you see? Now, go back to sleep, Ty. I’ll be with you. I’ll take care of everything.”

I sighed in relief and closed my eyes, knowing he would.

C
HAPTER
T
WELVE
:
C
OME
S
AIL
A
WAY

I

M
Y
SABOR
.

My vampyr.

This was not supposed to happen.

Alexandru Mondragon thoughtfully observed his nephew as Adam eased Tyrell down onto his bed and stroked his thick black hair back off his forehead. The expression on Adam’s face was… tender.

When he’d placed the infant in Adam’s arms more than eighteen years before and instructed him to guard the child, he’d had no idea this would be…
could
be… the outcome.

In all the millennia that vampyrs and sabors had existed in close proximity, there had never been a sabor who hadn’t loved the vampyrs who’d come to him or her. And yet Tyrell Small had turned at least five of them away, six if he counted de Vivar. Even Mondragon himself Tyrell merely tolerated.

Could this be due to his combined bloodlines?

It had taken a good deal of manipulation to get offspring of the Dragomir and Lupescu families together, and then it had taken Benjamin and Magdalena five tries—and a box of condoms certain to fail—to produce the sabor.

He hadn’t anticipated Magdalena Small’s violent reaction to her youngest son, although perhaps he should have, given her family’s aversion to all things vampyr. She’d contacted her father, and they’d disappeared with the four children.

It had taken Mondragon’s enforcers some time to track them down, but once they’d discovered the whereabouts of the Crist enclave and reported back to him, he’d sent day watchers to keep an eye on the children.

Magdalena had had her marriage annulled and eventually wed a normal, leaving her children to her father’s care. At that point, she was no longer one of Mondragon’s, and he didn’t give her another thought.

Her children, on the other hand….

All saborese were important, since they led to the next generation of sabors, but these four in particular were highly valued. To have them under the control of a fanatic the likes of Noah Crist was unacceptable. Once the oldest boy reached the age to be interested in girls, Mondragon had seen to it one of the younger day watchers came into his vicinity, hoping that would help break the old man’s hold on his grandson.

That hadn’t happened. Matthew had brought her home to get his grandfather’s approval, and Noah Crist had recognized her for what she was. With the fledgling relationship thwarted, Mondragon had been forced to get her out of town.

Eventually he’d had no choice but to give up on Matthew.

Tyrell’s three older siblings might perhaps produce the next generation of sabors that combined the Dragomir/Lupescu lines, but it remained to be seen how those children would react to their destiny.

As for Tyrell himself….

Mondragon sighed. If Tyrell would only allow Adam to feed from him, or refused to feed another without Adam’s presence, Mondragon would have to consider this experiment less than successful.

“Your Grace. I’ve placed Ty into a deep sleep.” Adam’s words brought him out of his reverie, and he met his nephew’s gaze. This wasn’t something done lightly, but Mondragon could understand the necessity for his action. “This has been a stressful day for him.” He growled out the next words. “And I. Have had. Enough. De Vivar has been allowed his excesses for too long. I will deal with him!”

Adam had a mild temperament. He’d known from a very young age that it was highly unlikely he would ever become rege—that position would one night go to Aurel, Mondragon’s older grandson. Mondragon was fond of his nephew, and the last thing he’d wanted was to give him false hope. Adam was satisfied to be his equerry.

But at this moment, the usual cinnamon brown of Adam’s eyes had been replaced by the flashing red of an enraged vampyr.

“I have no objection. However, Tyrell is our most important concern just now. Take him to my citadel. Give him the room his bedroom was modeled after—we don’t want him waking in a strange room and panicking.”

“Ty, panicking?” Adam’s expression was proud. “You didn’t see him standing here with a baseball bat, ready to take on whatever was outside his front door.”

“Was he really willing to do that?” He found himself smiling as well. As rege, he was supposed to be impartial, but this sabor was in actual fact a wonder. “You’re to make sure he’s comfortable.” There was no question of him being safe. Even a vampyr as megalomaniacal as the
Duque de Málaga
would think twice and three times about broaching those walls. “Once you’re certain of that, return here.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Taking Tyrell to the citadel must have been Adam’s intention, since the sabor was once again clothed. Adam raised Tyrell into his arms and walked to the front of the house. “Mina.” The
Înger Păzitor
, her ears erect, had been bouncing beside him—after all, she was still technically a puppy.

And this was something else unusual, since unless a vampyr came to feed on its sabor, the guard dogs tended to keep their distance.

Mondragon stooped and gathered her up. “Yes, you’re going with them.” He placed her on Tyrell, and she lay down, balancing herself carefully. “Go now, Adam, and return quickly.”

Adam bowed his head—he couldn’t give a more formal bow while holding the sabor—and Mondragon opened the door for him.

Adam was no sooner gone than Raymond Girard entered the house. “
Mon seigneur
.”

“What did you learn?”

The big vampyr shrugged. “Through what was left of the rogues’ clothes—”

“What was left?”

“The holy water seems to have acted like acid.”

“Yes. Of course. Go on.”

“We were able to ascertain the enclave to which the rogues belonged. I sent Michel, Pascal, and Grigore to pay the American vampyr who runs it a visit.”

“
Lilitu
! As if we needed another de Vivar. His name?”

“
Her
name.”

“A woman?”

“
Oui
. Lindsey Diamond. I told them to bring her to the citadel. I didn’t think you’d want her to enter Ty’s house.”

“No, you’re right.”

“One thing I found interesting—”

“Just one thing?” Since he’d been summoned to the hospital on the night after Tyrell Small was born, it had been like a roller coaster, with one thing after another, most unexpected and all fascinating.

Girard gave him a blank look. Well, he’d never found him to have much of a sense of humor.

“You were saying?”

“Yes. Ty told me the vampyr who tried to seize him wound up seizing instead the charm he’d made. It had Duke Adam’s blood on it.”

“Ah. I see.” A born vampyr’s blood could be lethal to one who had been turned, although it was usually direct contact that did the damage.

“I’m glad someone does,” Girard muttered, and then he grinned at Mondragon, letting the rege know he was fully aware of this, which was a good thing; it wouldn’t be wise for his chief enforcer to be ignorant of these matters.

But Mondragon would also need to discuss this with Adam. Why had he put his blood on the sabor’s charm?

“At any rate,” Girard was saying, “the enforcers will make sure everyone is aware a sabor was attacked by that clan, and that he successfully defended himself. I thought it best to mention a day watcher was involved as well. We don’t want younger vampyrs to try their powers against him.”

“Good work. Where is Mac Lochlainn?”

“He knows of some of de Vivar’s lairs and has gone to see if he’s gone to ground in any of them.”

“Keep me informed.”

“Yes,
mon seigneur
. I’ll leave Nicolae to keep watch here while I see Ekaterina home.”

“It is hardly necessary. Do you think
any
one would dare attack me?”

“Who thought anyone would dare attack a sabor?”

“I’m not a—” He could see Girard was going to object. “Very well, leave the enforcer.”

“Thank you. I’ll return shortly. Duke Adam will join us?”

“Yes.”

Girard nodded, gave a bow, and then Mondragon was alone. And annoyed. He was neither so young as to have no experience in defending himself nor so old as to be decrepit. He fully intended to rule another five or six hundred years at the very least. At that point he would abdicate rule to his grandson.

For a moment he thought of his daughter. Theirs wasn’t a patriarchal society, and she would have been next in line to the throne if it hadn’t been for her actions fifteen years before. He’d had no choice but to remove her from the succession.

Aurel would make a good rege, in spite of his unusual paternity, and he would have Adam to instruct and guide him.

Feeling a trifle hungry, Mondragon wandered into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. A lone bag of blood was on the shelf. He’d need to remind Girard to stock up on more.

He took the bag out, placed it in the microwave, and recalled those days before the Great Plague, when blood could be had for the taking from a peasant, a nobleman, or even a pope or a king. As for sabors, in spite of what he’d told Tyrell, they’d belonged solely to the royal family, to be used as a gift, a reward, or simply on a whim.

No matter.
One must move with the times.

While he waited for the blood to warm, he gave some consideration to this situation with de Vivar. It was becoming more and more disastrous.

He should have destroyed de Vivar’s talisman centuries ago, and he would have if his sister hadn’t had a fondness for the Spaniard.

Because of his own fondness for Terese, he’d been willing to overlook a good many of de Vivar’s faults, on occasion to the detriment of both vampyrs and sabors.

De Vivar might not be aware of it, but all his bats were about to come home to hang upside down from the ceiling. He’d worn out whatever fondness Terese Dasani had once had for him, and Mondragon had no more patience for de Vivar’s overweening ambitions.

As soon as Adam returned, they would decide the best way to find and deal with de Vivar. Once that was done, he’d need to give some consideration to Tyrell Small. The young sabor had enraptured his nephew. Could that be permitted to continue?

After a minute or so, the microwave dinged, and he removed the bag. His fangs extended, and he sank them into the bag and began to feed.

II

A
DAM HAD no doubt the expression on his face warned anyone with half a brain to get out of his path. The guards outside the huge double doors of the rege’s citadel must have come to the same agreement, because they took one look at him, threw open the doors, and stepped aside.

He strode through the Great Hall, determined to ignore everyone who was gathered there. He tightened his grip on Ty.

“Who…?”

“Is that…?”

“May we see…?”

“Not now,” he snarled.

Servants, vampyrs, enforcers… his mother… all attempted to get a closer look at the young man he carried. Many of them had never had the opportunity to be this close to a sabor like Ty.

Still asleep, he foiled them by the simple expediency of turning his face into Adam’s neck.

“What’s going on, Adam?”

“Mother, I’ll explain as soon as I get Ty settled.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Thank you, but that isn’t necessary.” As much as he wanted to snap, he didn’t—he owed that much respect to his mother, and she wasn’t the cause of his distress. That Ty should have a nightmare so severe it caused him to weep….

His mother broke into his thoughts. “On the contrary.”

And he knew he had better surrender. When she used that cool tone, not even his father challenged her.

A blonde vampyr he’d seen once or twice around the citadel, and who he knew to be one of de Vivar’s, had the audacity to come closer, reaching out a hand to touch Ty’s bare foot.

Adam would have snarled, “I said
not now
!” but he didn’t have to say a word: Mina was on her feet on Ty’s abdomen, her muzzle wrinkled as a savage growl vibrated in her throat, and the blonde—Rhiannon—shied away.

“Bitch!” she muttered. She backed farther away when he glowered at her.

A wave of whispers followed them up the curving staircase to the second level.
Idiots
, he thought uncharitably. They should have known he’d hear them no matter how softly they marveled over the sabor in his arms.

Ty sighed, and the warmth of that breath against his throat made Adam shiver. He was so trusting….

“I’m sure Alexandru requires your presence, my son. Don’t dawdle.”

“No, Mother.” Adam reached the upper landing and gazed down at the limp body in his arms. There had never been a reason for him to hold a sabor in this manner, but that didn’t mean he would allow anything to stop him from doing this now, with his sabor.

In the history of the relationship between vampyrs and sabors, there had never been a time when an individual sabor was put under the protection of an individual vampyr. Before the Great Plague, sabors had belonged to the royal family, who shared them with their nobles and occasionally the gentry. Now, almost seven hundred years after the Plague, things were vastly different. Making sure Ty stayed safe was a task he was pleased… more than pleased, gratified… had been given to him.

Adam knew the sabor could never be his alone, but Ty, on the other hand, seemed to have other ideas. He’d refused one vampyr after another, even if it brought him to the edge of desperation with the need to be fed from.

“Which room, Adam?”

“The blue chamber, Mother.”

“Of course.” She went ahead of him, her movements graceful as her long skirts swished with each step, and turned the doorknob. She threw open the door, stepped inside, and turned on a lamp.