Unforgiven (A Cyn and Raphael Novella Book 3) (9 page)

“You will control the female,” she told him quietly. “Do whatever it takes. Raphael is a formidable foe. I believe our combined energies can kill him, but it will require a delicate balance of power, and I can’t have her interfering at a critical moment.”

“Understood, Mistress. It will be done.” He was about to step away when one of Violet’s minions came over and handed her a cell phone.

“Video from the border crossing, Mistress,” the vamp said quietly.

Violet took the phone, but only glanced at it before saying, “Pascal, look at this. Tell me who these are.”

He took the phone she offered and rolled the video forward, watching as the two SUVs slowed to speak with the border guards, then continued smoothly across the bridge and into Mexico. The fact that Violet had to ask him to identify Raphael’s associates told Pascal how very little she really knew about Raphael’s operation, and it further convinced Pascal of his own importance. Not only in Violet’s current plan to take down Raphael, but in the long term, after she’d set up her own court in North America. He would be by her side then. Her most trusted adviser.

An unaccustomed warmth filled him, so unfamiliar that he barely recognized it for what it was . . . satisfaction. Although that seemed too small a word to describe what he was feeling. Pride was in there. And arrogance, too, because he’d always known he was destined for great things.

“Pascal?”

His mistress’s voice reminded him that his destiny wasn’t upon him yet. “The woman next to Raphael is his mate, Cynthia.”

“He brings his human with him?”

“They’re rarely apart, my lady. She carries a gun and fancies herself one of his bodyguards.”

Violet’s sniff of disapproval made her opinion of this clear before he continued.

“The driver is Juro, his chief of security. I told you about him, my lady. And the other, the black man is Jared, his lieutenant now that Duncan is a lord. You noticed the vampires in the second SUV, of course.”

“Of course,” she chided him.

“Those two are part of Raphael’s security detail. They’ll be highly trained and disciplined, my lady. Raphael does not take chances.”

“But?” she asked, hearing the excitement underlying his words.

Pascal grinned. “Jared is under my sway, as is the bald one of the guards. I can have Raphael’s own people take each other out.”

“Is Jared powerful enough to handle Juro?”

“They’re evenly matched, but I believe so. And there is no question that my guard can take the other one out.”

Violet smiled back at him like a proud parent. “Very good, Pascal.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” he said, blushing with pleasure. Such was the quiet force of his mistress’s personality. He was going to enjoy watching Violet take that bastard Raphael down a peg. He was going to enjoy even more being part of it.

Next to him, Alexandra opened her whiny mouth, but he growled at her to shut up. She still thought this was all about her. The silly bitch still hadn’t clued in to the fact that she was as disposable as the napkin used to wipe his mouth. No wonder her brother had written her off. It was a miracle he hadn’t done it a century or two earlier.

“They’re here, my lady,” Violet’s minion called softly, and Pascal felt a surge of excitement. This was his moment, the one he’d been building toward his entire life. The door opened with a creak of old wood, and he took his place at his mistress’s back.

“CHANGE OF PLANS,” Raphael said as he climbed out of the SUV and held out his hand to Cyn. “We won’t go in the front door.”

Relief weakened Cyn’s muscles to the point that she actually accepted his hand in support as she slid off the bench seat and stood in the dirt parking lot. She’d never been happy with that plan, if one could even call walking through the front door a
plan
.

“As long as we’re here,” Raphael continued, pulling her against his side, “we’ll go through the back door.”

Cyn glared at him through narrowed eyes. “Not funny, fang boy.”

He winked at her. “Trust me, my Cyn.”

“I trust you,” she muttered. “Let’s do this.”

Juro led the way, taking up a position to one side of the door, with Jared on the other. Cyn and Raphael stood back, with the two guards in front, positioned in a way that none of them would be silhouetted by the open door. Juro glanced at Raphael, received his
go-ahead
nod, and gripped the heavy wrought iron handle. It was an old door, the wood thick with layers of varnish added over decades of use, the broad wooden planks banded with iron. It creaked under its own weight when Juro pulled it open.

They all paused expectantly, but when no threat vomited forth from the open door, they entered the church, with Juro and Jared once again taking the lead. Cyn had been holding Raphael’s hand, but she let go as soon as they crossed the threshold, taking a step away from him and giving both of them room to maneuver. She was carrying the Sig as her main weapon tonight, and it was loaded for bear—or more accurately vampire—with its Hydra-Shok vampire-killer rounds. It was the same gun and ammo that she’d used to kill Jabril not so long ago. Her favorite Glock 9mm was tucked into the small of her back, but it was the Sig that she pulled now. The enemy vamps might be offended by her preemptive draw, but too bad. If she’d been confronting humans, she’d have left the gun in its shoulder holster and simply loosened it for an easy draw. But vampires were too fast for that. If it came down to a battle, there’d be no time for a draw, no matter how quick she was. So she carried the weapon in her right hand and didn’t care what anyone thought.

“Raphael! Thank God!” Alexandra’s overwrought greeting was ignored by everyone except Pascal, who was standing next to her, glaring at her to be silent.

“Violet,” Raphael said, not even acknowledging his sister’s outburst.

A female vampire stepped out of the shadows. Slender and somewhat short by this century’s measure, she had long, dark hair that curled over her shoulders and down her back, and a face that was completely ordinary. Cyn frowned. That was surprising. If Raphael knew this Violet person, then they must have met before he left Europe, which made her at least 250 years old, and probably a little more than that. Usually vampires that old—male or female—were quite good looking, some even beautiful. The vampire symbiote seemed to make a point of curing ills and erasing imperfections in its hosts, presumably so they would be more effective hunters. And that made Violet’s very ordinary appearance quite unusual. Either the vampire symbiote didn’t care what she looked like or this was the best it could do the raw material Violet had provided.

Since Cyn wanted to hate the bitch, she preferred to think that Violet had been a troll before the symbiote went to work on her. But she kept these thoughts to herself.

“Raphael,” Violet responded, her voice a lovely soprano in contrast to her rather plain appearance. “I’m flattered you remember.”

“I remember
you
, Violet. But you clearly don’t remember me.”

“But of course I do!”

“Then why are you here? And why the farce with Pascal and that one,” he said, flipping a dismissive hand in Alexandra’s direction.

“Raphael—” Alexandra whined, but Pascal once again growled at her to shut up.

“I wanted to talk to you” Violet said coyly. “And I didn’t think you’d come otherwise.”

Raphael blinked lazily. “So talk.”

A flash of something lit Violet’s eyes for a second, but it was there and gone before Cyn could identify the emotion behind it. The female vamp’s mouth stretched into a small smile, and something filled the air, an energy that made the small hairs on the back of Cyn’s neck stand up and take notice. She tensed, putting both hands on her gun and half-raising it, searching the dark church for a target.

Violet chuckled softly and murmured, “Pascal.”

And then Jared began to laugh.

Chapter Six

PASCAL STARED AT Jared in shock, straining to find the worm of control he’d left curled in the other vampire’s brain. Jared’s gaze shifted in his direction, and a jolt of energy slammed into him. Pascal staggered, nearly knocked off his feet, while Raphael’s lieutenant stood perfectly relaxed, his mouth curled into a sneer.

Raphael’s dry voice cut into the silence. “As I said, Violet, you clearly do not remember
me
if you think my lieutenant could be manipulated by the parlor tricks of a second rate magician.”

Pascal sucked in a breath of outrage at the insult and reached for the mind of Raphael’s guard instead. Maybe Jared was beyond his control, but the other vampire was a lesser power. Surely he . . .

The bald vampire barely glanced at him as he flicked off Pascal’s attempt to control him.

“Stop this, Violet—” Raphael cautioned. “Before it’s too late.”

“Arrogant,” Violet snapped, her power gathering around her in a nimbus of energy. “I remember you well, Raphael. Always thinking you were better than the rest of us.” She gave a silent command, alerting Pascal and the other vampires she’d brought with her, every one of them a power in his own right. The energy swirling around Violet quadrupled as they offered their strength to her, supporting her as she faced Raphael, a look of supreme confidence on her face.

“It is not only I that you face, Raphael,” she sneered, “but many.”

One of Violet’s minions leapt without warning, a bundle of lethal intent aimed not at Raphael, but at his human mate, an action meant to distract the vampire lord, to make him vulnerable for that one moment, which was all Violet would need. But Raphael didn’t fall for it, didn’t even move. His mate did, however, reacting nearly as quickly as a vampire could have, raising her weapon and firing at the vampire who was attacking her. His shriek of agony was still echoing through the empty church when the dust of his body settled to the floor.

Pascal stared in stunned silence. A gun. She’d killed a vampire with a bullet. Impossible.

Raphael gave a low chuckle. “My Cyn is extraordinary, don’t you think?”

In an instant his expression hardened, and he attacked, his power lashing out faster than Pascal could follow. One by one the vampire minions surrounding Violet began to fall to Raphael’s invisible assault, their death cries no more than soft exhalations of disbelief as they became dust at her feet.

Pascal reached out, his fingers closing over Alexandra’s arm as he dragged her in front of him, thinking to use her as a shield, but he soon realized his mistake. Raphael’s black gaze shifted, falling directly on Pascal for the first time. “I believe you were warned, Pascal, about what happens to those who betray my trust.”

Pascal tightened his grip on Alexandra, his mouth open to defend himself, to argue that he’d had no choice, that he was nothing but a tool following the orders of his mistress. But there was suddenly no air in the building as he struggled to form the words, as his lungs turned to dried husks of flesh, and his heart . . . Pascal’s mouth opened in a wordless scream of denial as his heart burst into flame. His pleading gaze turned upon Violet, his final sight the look of utter horror on her face as she stood alone against what Pascal now knew to be the most powerful vampire on earth.

“RAPHAEL!”

Cyn stared in mingled contempt and disbelief as Alexandra staggered in typical melodramatic fashion to lean weakly against one of the wooden pews, as if it was the only thing keeping her on her feet.

“Thank God you came,” Alexandra gasped.

Cyn raised her weapon at the traitorous little bitch, but Raphael touched her hand and gently pushed the weapon down.

“Go back to your masters, Violet,” he said, ignoring his sister’s dramatics, “and carry this message to them. It is not only I that you face on this continent. I am one among many, and we are powerful, determined, and united. You will not succeed if you try to force yourselves upon us.”

Violet raised a trembling hand to brush away a dark streak of dust from her pale face, her eyes dull as she stared at Raphael, although Cyn wouldn’t have sworn the female was seeing anything at all.

“Raphael, I’m exhausted,” Alexandra complained, totally unaware of the tableau being played out around her.

Raphael’s gaze finally shifted to his sister. “I release you, Alexandra,” he said, his deep voice filled with such sorrow that Cyn reached out automatically, her hand soothing over his shoulder in comfort.

Across the church, Alexandra jerked abruptly as if someone had poked her with a stick. “Raphael,” she whispered, “what . . .”

“This,” he said, indicating the pile of clothes that had been Pascal, “is how I reward those who betray me. And yet I forgave
your
treachery, Alexandra, because of the blood we share, because I loved you.”

“Forgave?” Alexandra snarled, her entire demeanor changing in an instant as the camouflage fell away and the real Alexandra was revealed. “You locked me in a cage, when all I did was try to save you from
that
one.” She jabbed a finger in Cyn’s direction. “I never had anything but your best interests at heart,” she continued, her voice rising shrilly. “I wasted
centuries
waiting for you to give me what I deserved. I am your
sister!
I should have been the one
sitting at your right hand, not some stupid farmer you found with his guts spilling onto a muddy battlefield. What did Duncan ever offer you that I could not? I told myself you were a man of your times, that you would never allow a woman to be at your side, that I was first in your heart at least, always that. But then your human bitch came along and I didn’t even have that anymore.

“You betrayed me long ago, brother dear. When you left me in the ruins of our father’s home, left me at the mercy of an evil thing that ripped out my throat and stole my humanity. Did you think I could forgive that? Did you think your money and gifts could make up for the centuries I spent whoring for that monster?”

Raphael nodded. “You wish to be free of me. And now you are.” He started to turn away.

“Wait!” Alexandra cried. “Where will I go?”

“Your new ally seems in need of a minion,” he said, indicating Violet who was standing completely alone. “Perhaps the two of you can reach an agreement.”

Then he turned away from her, his vampires shifting to surround him as he reached out for Cyn’s hand. She slid the Sig back into her shoulder holster then threaded her fingers with his, his grip almost painful as he pulled her against his side.

He walked out of the church, giving Violet his back, showing her with that simple act that she was no threat to him. He left behind Alexandra, too. Left behind, at last, the guilt that he’d permitted to control him for too long, the centuries he’d spent striving to earn a forgiveness that she didn’t have to give, for a wrong that he’d never committed.