She swallowed a piece of melon, letting the sweet juice wet her throat, although it only served to make her more hungry.
“And then there’s this.” She handed Xavier the note that had been delivered under a white flag, just as she’d been taking off to meet her team.
Xavier froze when she laid the envelope on the table in front of him, with the note inside, and the seal intact. “Where’d you get this?” he demanded, his eyes flaring with power for an instant, before they went back to normal. Or his normal.
“Another teenager, a little older than the prisoner and her dead friend—certainly bolder and more confident than either of them—arrived at the Fortalesa. She was walking, though when we search tomorrow, we’ll probably find indications that somebody had driven her most of the way, and they’d later left together. She was carrying a white flag and specifically asked whether we would honor it before she handed that letter over.”
“What do you think she’d have done if you’d refused?”
“Good question. I wouldn’t be surprised if whoever had brought her here had a long-range rifle aimed at me, or whoever else might have come out to speak to her. You know the guard and driver from the van were butchered, both of them dead. And the two guards in the escort vehicle were severely wounded. These people clearly don’t have any qualms about killing to get what they want.”
“Which is what?” Joaquim asked.
Layla would have shared her own confusion as to that, but she was staring at Xavier and realized that he knew who Sakal was. “Xavier?” she asked softly. “Does that name mean something to you?”
“Fill de puta,” he swore softly, then looked at her and added, “Something,” in a voice hoarse with an emotion.
Anger she would have understood. But this was more than that. There was a history there, one she needed to know if she was to have a hope in hell of understanding what was going on.
“Sire?” Chuy said, concern in his voice. “Who is it?”
Xavier spun the note down the table where both vampires could read it. And when they did, they looked up with expressions every bit as distraught as his.
Recognizing that this was something more than just secret-keeping between them, Layla swallowed her frustration, and even took a long drink of water before she touched Xavier’s hand where it lay on the table and said quietly, “I need to know what this means. I can’t defend the Fortalesa and its people if I don’t know what to expect.”
He’d been staring at the empty envelope which lay with its wax seal face up, but now he lifted his head and spoke to his vampires in a furious voice. “We’re taking that nest tonight. We’ll leave well after midnight, when they’ll assume we’re staying home and licking our wounds. When they’ll be returning to their beds, confident that they’re safe for another night. But in the meantime, be visible. Walk throughout the Fortalesa, let everyone—vampire and human—see your confidence that the enemy will soon pay the ultimate price.”
Then he stood. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to interrogate the prisoner.”
The vampires rose and left without another word, while Xavier followed them to the door and locked it. Then he returned to the table and held out a hand to her.
She took it and stood without question, hoping this meant he was going to tell her who the fuck Sakal was, and why his involvement had all of them looking as though the devil himself had shown up at their front gate.
XAVIER LED AN unresisting Layla through the door to his bedroom, surprised when, though her fingers tightened on his, she didn’t offer an immediate protest. What had he been thinking earlier, that she was unusually sensitive to the moods of people around her? Perhaps she’d read his and known that he wasn’t planning to throw her on the bed and fuck her until he felt better, and she no longer had the strength to ask questions.
“Drink?” he asked, lifting a crystal decanter identical to the one in his office, and with the same whiskey inside.
“Sure, though . . . is it okay if I eat my sandwich? If I drink any more on an empty stomach, I’ll probably get sick instead of drunk.”
“Get your food,” he said, gesturing toward the door. “If you’re to understand who Sakal is, I’ve a long story to tell.”
She blinked in surprise, probably at the idea that he would tell her anything about his past. But she hadn’t been around long enough as an adult to hear his stories. They certainly weren’t fit for anyone younger.
He poured two drinks, left one on the side table closest to the door, then walked around to the side of the bed and stretched out, his own drink in hand. Sipping slowly, he waited until she sat cross-legged on the bed next to him, her plate of food carefully sitting on the cloth napkin that had been wrapped around the fork and knife delivered with the meal. Presumably, she’d taken that precaution to protect the bed’s comforter, although he would have told her not to bother.
“Okay, if I start eating?”
“Of course. I’m not that delicate, cariño. You, more than anyone, surely know that.”
“True, but I’m trying to be polite. I’ve never been in your bedroom.”
She’d probably meant that to lighten his mood, but knowing that Sakal was even alive, much less returning to trouble him again, it would take a hell of a lot more than a casual quip to cheer him up. The bastard’s death would be a good place to start.
He shook his head at that and muttered, “He should be two hundred years dead already. At least. How is it possible that he’s survived this long?”
“Sakal?” she asked around a mouthful of sandwich.
“His full name is Ori Sakal, and he’s a vampire, though weaker than a strong human. He should have starved, unable to enthrall a human well enough to feed. That is, if he wasn’t killed by some other vampire first.”
He let a sigh come then, sipping his whiskey for a while before continuing. “Sakal was a sorcerer of considerable skill before he was turned. I was just past my hundredth year, and my power had already eclipsed that of my Sire, Josep Alexandre. I no longer lived under Josep’s roof, but we were allies of a sort. There was plenty of territory to go around then, unlike now, which made it possible for us to coexist peaceably, as long as we saw each other rarely and only for short visits.
“I remember when my Sire first approached me about this sorcerer he’d met. The man was not the most powerful sorcerer in our world, but he was uncommonly strong, and my Sire wanted him in his court in a way that ensured no other could make use of his talents. That, of course, meant making him a vampire, loyal only to my Sire.” Xavier paused to take a sip before continuing. “You might think that made it simple. Turn the sorcerer, make him yours for eternity. The problem, and the reason my Sire hesitated enough to seek my opinion, was twofold. First, there was always the chance that the newly-turned vampire would end up as I had, more powerful than the Sire. That didn’t happen often, however, and so it wasn’t the major concern.