“Is it true?”
“Yes, it is. Sometime, I’ll tell you the stories. Give me your cell number,” she said as an afterthought, thinking it would be good to have a second way of reaching the Fortalesa.
He rattled it off as Layla tapped in the numbers, then called him to be sure it stayed in her cell’s memory.
The gate was already open and waiting for her. “Lock it behind me,” she said, then stepped out onto the apron of empty space below the wall. Pausing for no more than a heartbeat, she ran at an easy lope for the trees, walked in several yards, until she doubted anyone could see her, then started downhill on foot.
WHILE LAYLA MADE her way through the forest and down the hill, Xavier lay trapped, fighting the unbreakable bonds of a sleep that held him prisoner while his people suffered. The most vulnerable and easily wounded of them all—the children who ran to hold his hand when he visited their homes or attended their holiday plays and parties, the ones who counted on him to keep them safe—those children had been taken in an act so violent, it would scar them forever. Just as it would him. He would never forget, could never forgive anyone who’d played even the smallest part in its planning. Everyone involved in this heinous crime would suffer before he was through with them. Every godforsaken one of them. He swore it.
For all the good his oaths did, he thought viciously. It frustrated him, infuriated him, that he couldn’t see the details, couldn’t know exactly what had been done, or even who’d done it. His mind could only read the horror of the guards’ brutal deaths, the frantic terror of the children.
He knew that Layla would already be on task, doing everything she could to find the kidnappers and get a rescue underway. He knew what she was capable of. Knew things that even her father didn’t know, things she’d never shared, because she didn’t want him to think his only child, his daughter, was a brute capable of monstrous acts of cruelty. Xavier only knew because he had contacts among the vampire community in the U.S., vampires who’d mated or married humans from that country, including several who’d moved to the U.S. to be with their lover or mate when they’d gone home. Those vampires in turn either worked, or had friends who worked, in places where they could be of assistance, and remembering friendship or loyalty to Xavier, were willing to help when he asked. Which he did only rarely.
In this case, they had, on his behalf, gained access to details involving both Layla’s military record and the jobs her current team had undertaken as private security consultants. Those records, both government and private, had often included so-called after-action reports, which frequently revealed the most extreme details of the undertaken missions. This was especially true for the privately funded jobs, since those were more likely to involve people who’d wanted to punish the ones who’d crossed them in one way or another, and would demand proof. They were most often hostage rescue and ransom cases, since neither Layla nor those she worked with were simple murderers for hire. But that didn’t mean they followed every law. When a child or children had been taken or abused, Layla’s team worried only about the hostages, and did whatever it took—killing or torturing whomever necessary—to return the children safely.
So he knew the extremes to which his Layla would go to rescue the ones who’d been kidnapped. He only wished he’d managed to get closer to her, faster. Their eventual bonding was inevitable in his mind, but if he’d already taken her blood, or if she’d already taken even the smallest amount of his, there would have been a chance that he could link with her, so they could communicate even when he slept and she hunted.
But all he could do now was lie in this dark room and curse the fate that had not only given him the gift of vampirism, but had made him a power with it. The same fate that now extracted a daily price in exchange.
Even worse, he had received fresh information just before sunrise that might have helped Layla and the others locate the missing children. Two of his scouts had identified a possible nest of rogue vampires hidden in the city. He didn’t know yet who was behind this attack, but if unknown vampires were moving around freely in Barcelona, it was always possible they were somehow involved. His vamps didn’t yet have a number, but even five strange vampires in his city were too many for Xavier to remain unaware of their presence for long.
By design, most of Barcelona’s vampires lived inside the Fortalesa because he liked it that way. The fact that these newly arrived vampires were trying to conceal themselves from him, even knowing he would inevitably sniff them out, was enough to suggest they were working for one of his enemies. Maybe even the same one who’d attacked his lair and kidnapped its children.
But for all that their discovery was a welcome development, he’d been left cursing, because the news had come too late for him to act on until the next night. As it was, the two scouts had barely reached the basement loading dock of the vampire wing before collapsing into their daylight sleep. They’d had to be carried to their vault bedrooms by Xavier whose age and strength permitted him to remain awake and strong well past the time when most vampires were soundly asleep.
And still, while the children suffered, while Layla walked into danger, he could do nothing but lie there and curse in silence.
LAYLA WALKED slowly at first, aware of every footfall, every branch in her way, though she doubted the enemy—Sakal, she corrected—had posted anyone in the forest to waylay possible rescuers from the Fortalesa. If he—or she, the name was unfamiliar and could be anyone—decided to conceal an ambush somewhere, it was more likely to be on the road itself. It would be logical on his part to assume that a rescue operation would include several armed guards and a vehicle in order to mobilize as quickly as possible. Sakal might know that her father was gone, and that she was filling in, but he couldn’t know that Brian and the others were in town waiting for her. Or that she’d hike down to meet them.
Let him think they were obeying his command not to look for the kidnapped children. Or waiting until darkness when Xavier could make the decision. That was his mistake, and one she was going to take advantage of. Whoever had thought it a good idea to get Xavier’s attention by taking the Fortalesa’s children didn’t understand what they’d done. She’d been raised here. She knew what it was like to grow up in a place where every child was treasured, where every adult—human and vampire—treated each child as their own. It had taken her a while to understand why, especially since the Fortalesa was a place for vampires. They were virtually immortal, but the price of that immortality was the inability to breed, even with human partners. As a result, a lot of vamps became obsessed with death, or with acquiring wealth to ease their immortal lives.
But Xavier had made the decision early on, that his lair, as he called it, his Fortalesa would be a true community, where humans and vampires dwelled together. Where vampires could live with their human mates, and be part of a family unit if that’s what they chose. The result was a close-knit community with humans and vampires protecting each other, and where families were the center of the social fabric.