“What the fuck?” Layla muttered. “Don’t open that gate,” she commanded. “I’ll take the sally port.” Without another word, she took the stairs down two at a time and ran for the small door once more. Danilo saw where she was heading and raced after her.
“I should go,” the younger woman insisted. “You’re needed here.”
“Not how I operate. I lead my people, I don’t follow them.”
“Damn it, Layla,” Danilo swore, any semblance of discipline gone. “You know I’m right.”
Layla stopped long enough to face her directly. “No, you’re not,” she said plainly. “Not in my army, okay? Now, help me lift this fucking riot bar, and lock it after me.” Once the door was open, she smiled at the younger woman. “Stop worrying. I’ve survived far worse than this.”
The gate thudded shut behind her as she strode out to meet the messenger, who was even younger than she’d first thought. Drawing her sidearm, holding it in both hands, she aimed at the smiling teenager, and called, “Stop right there,” as soon as they were within speaking distance. “Who are you?”
“I am the messenger, and I bring word from the lord of us all.” She held out a white envelope.
“I don’t know who the fuck you’re talking about,” Layla growled. “But he sure as hell isn’t my lord.”
The messenger smiled in smug bliss. It was the only way to describe it. It was the smile of a true believer, one who was certain she knew truths that Layla didn’t and pitied her for her ignorance. “You will learn,” she said softly. “But you will bleed first. He told us this would happen.”
Layla could hear the capital “H” on “he.” Who the fuck? She started to rip open the envelope, then glared at the creepy messenger. “Are you waiting for a reply? Or are you just hanging around?”
Another placid smile. “My duty is done. Will you respect the—”
“Yeah, I’ll hold to white flag protocol. Just remember, I’m not the one stealing children from their families and putting their lives in danger to make a damn point. It’s your fucking lord doing that. You have ten seconds to start walking, or I start shooting.”
The girl’s façade cracked as anger flared in those calm eyes, the first real emotion she’d shown.
Layla saw it and arched her brows in question. “Problem?”
“You’ll learn,” the messenger said again, but it was a sharp hiss of sound this time, all pretense of blissful calm gone. She spun on her heel and started back down the hill, her stride no longer the relaxed stroll that had brought her there.
Layla waited, backing a few cautious steps closer to the gate, until she was sure the teenager was truly leaving. Shooting a quick glance over her shoulder to verify that the guards above the gate had their attention, and their weapons, focused on the departing teenager, she made her way back to the sally port. A shout rose from the wall when she was a few feet away, and Danilo opened the gate for her.
Once the sally port was barred behind her, she ducked into her father’s unused office and studied the sealed envelope. She was no crime scene investigator like they had everywhere on TV these days. Though it was possible Xavier had one on staff. Maybe one of his vamps had that special skill. She didn’t like the idea of opening a sealed message from a known enemy, but on the other hand, it couldn’t be coincidence that the messenger had shown up so soon after the kidnapping. If this message, whatever it was, contained details or demands relevant to the missing children, she couldn’t wait until sunset to deal with it. And maybe that’s what the enemy was counting on. Just one more incidence of them avoiding any direct confrontation with the vampires.
She turned it over and stared at the wax seal holding the flap shut. “Pretentious fuck,” she muttered. Who used wax seals anymore?
She drew a long, deep breath and blew it out, then slipped a fingertip under the loose side of the envelope flap, and slowly slid it all the way down, until she’d dislodged the seal without cracking it. She’d save that for Xavier. He might recognize it.
The message inside was a single folded piece of thick paper, the kind used for letters back before everyone switched to email, and then text messages. Tipping the envelope so the page slid to the desk, she set the envelope aside and picked up the message. Holding it with two fingers and at arm’s length, she turned her face away, and flipped the page open. When nothing happened, she began to read.
Xavier,
I have rescued these poor children from the servitude they were innocently born into. I’d like to believe their parents were ignorant of the damage they were doing, but I cannot take that chance with their young lives, cannot stand by when their future is to be used as food for your vampires. Or worse, to be turned into one of the very demons who have destroyed their lives. If you look for them, they will die. Better a quick death at my hand, than endless suffering at yours.
—Sakal
“Sakal?” Layla said. “Who the fuck is Sakal?” Damn, she wished Xavier was awake. Or that at least Brian and the others were here instead of down in the town, even though what they were doing down there was more important. She needed someone she trusted to bounce this off.
One thing she knew for sure—this Sakal wanted them to wait. And there was a hard and fast rule against ever acting on the enemy’s timetable. Give the kidnappers the several hours until darkness, and they would disappear with the children forever.
She slid the message back into the envelope, then put the whole thing in the top drawer of her father’s desk and secured it, using the key hanging from the open lock. She was out the door two minutes later, and double timing it back to the gate.
Her car was there, but instead of sliding into the driver’s seat, she opened the passenger door, grabbed her MP5, and strode to the sally port, which had probably seen more use in the last two days than in the entire time Xavier had lived in the Fortalesa.
She found Tony, the guard from the last firefight, waiting for her there, and said, “I’m going down the hill.”
“Need backup?” he asked, his expression both sharp and eager.
She shook her head, said, “No,” but glanced up at the billed cap he was wearing. “I need this,” she said, taking it without asking.
He gave her a bemused look. “It’s yours. Anything else?”
She shoved the cap low on her forehead. “I need everyone to stay here on alert. Right here. I know they’re worried and terrified, but I don’t want an angry mob of parents coming after me. Tell them I’m on it, and I have a skilled hostage rescue team waiting below.”