That gave her more to think about, and more questions for Xavier, which she frustratingly couldn’t deal with until sunset, a long day away. Climbing up to the slightly higher guard post above the gate, she studied the postcard perfect scene outside—the seemingly endless flow of trees over the surrounding hills, the winding road that dipped and disappeared on its way to the distant town, which was a charming cluster of colorful rooftops, with sun shining on the blue Mediterranean beyond.
It was lovely, and so peaceful this morning. It should have been soothing. Instead it was making her instincts twitch, and she wasn’t alone. There was no peace up on the wall. Every defender gripped their weapons tightly, their eyes searching the surrounding forest for some sign of an attack they all knew was coming.
Movement and the sound of an engine had her turning back to see the school van heading for the gate. It was driven by an armed guard, while another sat inside near the back emergency exit. A second vehicle, carrying two more armed guards, followed behind. Layla stopped pacing when the small convoy passed under her feet, then turned and kept watch as they disappeared down the hill, until even the dust cloud of their passage had settled.
She stood a moment longer, contrasting all that surrounding beauty with whatever evil had chosen to set poorly trained humans against a powerful and well-defended vampire lord. As always, her thoughts continued to circle back to the same question: what was their enemy after? What did he hope to gain?
Shaking her head in frustration when the answer continued to elude her, she left the guard post to resume her route along the thick wall and tried to stop thinking about their enemy. Maybe if she stopped obsessing about motivation, the answer would come to her. It sure as hell wasn’t doing her any good to continually stress over it. Determined to follow her own advice, and to do what she could to bolster the morale of her fighters, she maintained a relaxed pose as she stopped to speak with every guard she came to—answering their questions and asking some of her own, wanting to get to know these people much better than she did. Most of them were strangers to her, and that could be a problem in the midst of a battle. A few seconds’ delay at some order they didn’t understand could mean life or death. Better to do what she could on this peaceful and too-fucking-hot morning. She tried to recall if it had always been this hot and humid during the summers when she’d been growing up. She didn’t remember it that way, but no one else seemed bothered, so maybe she’d simply been gone too long. Or maybe her patience with the world had been tested too often, her willingness to accept the situation rather than kick someone’s ass and change it.
And maybe she’d been a mercenary for too long. There were some things that a gun couldn’t change any more than wishful thinking could. She stopped and surveyed the landscape once more from the different angle. Why the hell was it so quiet this morning? An intentional strategy by their enemy? Was he or she trying to rattle them, to keep them guessing and eventually putting them off their game? No army—no matter the size—could remain on high alert forever.
Her phone rang, startling her out of her thoughts with a sharp jerk that she immediately tried to cover. A jumpy commander didn’t exactly inspire confidence. She snatched up the phone, expecting it to be Brian calling with an update, but when she looked, the ID wasn’t one she recognized. Frowning, she answered with a sharp, “Casales.”
“Something bad’s happened. The kids, my sister. I can’t get anyone to tell me—” The girl’s voice cut off with a loud sob, as she fought to get her voice back.
“All right,” Layla soothed. “We’ll take care of it. What’s your name, mija?”
“Alícia.”
“Okay, Alícia. Can you answer some questions for me?” As she spoke she was running for the nearest stairway and waving frantically at Danilo who was at a battlement fifty yards away, helping one of the fighters adjust the sights on his MP5. The fighter caught Layla’s excited gesturing first, but Danilo was running to join her a minute later, as Layla returned to the terrified Alícia. “Are you hurt?” she asked the girl.
“No, no. None of us older kids, just the little ones.”
“The little ones? Did the bus crash? Can you see it?”
“No,” she wailed. “It’s gone.”
“All right,” Layla said calmly. “I want you and all the other big kids to get inside the school and stay there together, until I can get someone down there to pick you up. And keep your phone on, in case I need to contact you. You got all that?”
“Yeah, yes. Okay.” She turned away from the phone and Layla heard her calling a name she vaguely remembered as one of the other teenagers. And then she disconnected without another word.
Reminding herself that Alícia wasn’t one of her fighters and couldn’t know about comm procedures, she quickly punched in the number for the lead guard on the children’s van, while explaining the situation to Danilo who’d joined her, standing above the stairway. When there was no answer on the guard’s phone, she called the driver instead, but got the same lack of a response. No answer, no voicemail.
“Shit!” She quickly updated Danilo, while they both ran down the stairs and headed for Layla’s rental car, still parked outside the barracks. “I’m going down there,” she said. “You’re in charge—” Her phone rang. “Casales,” she snapped. “Who is this?”
“What’s happened?” Brian’s response was sharp, no bullshit, right to the point.
“The kids’ bus . . . I don’t know exactly what, but it sounds like a hijacking. Maybe an accident, but I don’t think so. I’m on my way there. Where are you?”
“We just rolled into town.”
“Stay there, don’t come up. And try to look harmless until I get there.”
“Roger that.” Years of joint combat experience had them both hanging up at the same time. There was no need to say more.
Layla was running across the wide main yard when a shout from one of the guards, followed by a loud, metal creak, told her the gate was opening. She spun without slowing and ran that way instead, shouting orders for the fighters above to stop staring and maintain their watch. It would be too easy to use a distracting entry to toss enough explosive through the open gate to clear a path for their attack.
Her own MP5 was on a sling around her neck, and she was never without her side arm and knives, but she didn’t pull any of them as she raced for the gate. The guards had seen something, or more likely someone, that had them opening the gate, and she feared who or what it might be.