“No, the biggest problem was that attempts to make a vampire out of a sorcerer were so rare that most believed them to be the stuff of fable. What was taken as fact, however, was that no vampire had ever succeeded in turning a sorcerer . . . without that sorcerer also losing his magical abilities. They retained not even the small amount of magic that most vampires are capable of. Or at least, that was the accepted truth.”
He paused again, thinking back to those days with his Sire. They’d been friends as well as allies, something that was still uncommon. Powerful vampires were known to murder any of their children who surpassed them. Not all vampires, of course, since he was still alive, but still, most strong offspring were usually eliminated. He drew another long sip from his glass and caught Layla’s wide-eyed expression, not of eagerness for the rest of his tale, but exasperation, wanting him to get on with it. He smiled slightly in her direction, and took one sip more than he would have otherwise before continuing.
“As I said, it’s a long story.”
1796, Catalonia, Spain
XAVIER PROSPERO Flores strode into his Sire’s drawing room, every aspect of his bearing conveying not only the confidence of a man born to wealth and nobility, but of a vampire even more powerful than his Sire, whom he was visiting. Power burned in his veins and had, ever since the night he’d been turned. He had the strength, the immortality of a vampire, but not just any vampire. Xavier had the strength to rule, to become a lord. A vampire lord, with the power of life and death over hundreds, even thousands of lesser vampires.
He grinned at the Catalonian ladies he passed, seeing the admiration in their gazes, the lust that would scandalize their mothers and grandmothers had they been there to see it. He winked at the one or two he knew . . . intimately, but didn’t stop for any of them. His Sire had summoned him. And while he was no longer bound to respond, he chose to do so, out love and loyalty for this man who had given him the gift of life itself.
He might partake later of the festivities—and the ladies—to be had this evening, but for now, his purpose was clear. His Sire required his service, and he had come for the man who’d given him a gift beyond measure. He’d been dying when he’d been turned, riddled with infection from a wound that had seemed minor, but had swept through his body leaving him on the very precipice of death. His parents, desperate to do anything that would save their son’s life, had requested the intervention of Lord Josep Alexandre, a powerful vampire who lived in Catalonia, and partook on occasion of invitations to court offered by royals and others who found him a pleasing companion. Josep had agreed, seeing in Xavier a permanent grasp on his family’s extensive wealth and holdings, since he was their only child. It hadn’t worked out that way for Josep, given Xavier’s strength, but he nonetheless felt both gratitude and loyalty to the vampire who’d saved his life.
Catching sight of his Sire entering from the front of the room, Xavier caught the vampire lord’s eye and exchanged a quick telepathic acknowledgement. By the time he reached Josep’s side, the vampire lord had turned and was leading him to a small chamber behind the large drawing room, one that was used for a variety of private exchanges.
“Sire,” Xavier said, taking Josep’s proffered hand and bending to kiss it. “How may I serve you?”
The vampire lord smiled warmly. “You serve simply by existing, Xavier.”
He dipped his head in a way that was meant to be humble, but didn’t quite meet that standard. Xavier was far too arrogant, far too sure of his power and skills, to be truly humble. But his Sire either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
“A drink?” Josep asked, as he served himself, pouring dark red liquid into a small crystal glass.
“No, thank you, my lord.”
“Sit, then. I want to discuss a matter with you. I need your advice.”
“Any wisdom I may possess is yours.”
Josep chuckled. “Your mother taught you well, Xavier. But modesty sits uneasily on your tongue.”
Xavier had nothing to say to that, as it was the simple truth, and so he sat when Josep did, then waited.
Josep took another full sip of the blooded wine before saying, “What do you know of the war we vampires fought against the magic wielders some centuries ago?”
He tipped his head curiously, taken aback by the unexpected question. If he had the right of it, the war between vampires and sorcerers was more than mere centuries past. It had occurred in the previous millennium, maybe even the one before that, which as far as he knew, was well before his Sire had been born. “I know somewhat of it, my lord. It was brutal, with terrible losses on both sides. More so in the early months, when the magicians, lacking honor and courage both, rallied humans to seek out and kill vampires as they lay helpless in their daytime sleep.”
“Just so,” Josep agreed. “You’re wondering if I was alive then.” His smile widened. “I was not, though there are others still alive—both vampires and sorcerers—who were. Not many anymore, but enough that a wise vampire needs to beware.”
“Is there some new danger on the horizon, my lord?”
“Not specifically. But let me not play with words. A sorcerer has arrived in my territory. He comes from France, and while I’ve no reason to believe his home is elsewhere, it would seem that he thinks to settle with us in Spain.”
“Why?”
Josep raised a single finger. “Exactly. Why? And what use can I make of him?”
“Is he powerful enough to be useful?”
“My spies tell me so.”
Xavier considered the problem for a moment, his thoughts raising and rejecting possibilities in a whirlwind of calculation. “You wish to turn him,” he said in dawning realization.
Josep threw back his head in a delighted laugh. “It is no wonder that you’re my favorite child. You understand my thoughts as well as I do myself.”
“You honor me, Sire.”
He waved away the comment. “It is no more than you deserve. Now, what do you think of my idea?”
Xavier hesitated, thinking how best to convey his opinion. “If it is possible, it would seem an excellent strategy. It must be said that I’m unaware of any threat from those who currently use magic, and indeed it is my understanding that the number of sorcerers is dwindling, just as you said. But, while it is always best to anticipate your enemy’s moves, rather than react to them, I have heard from others that when a magic user, or sorcerer as the case may be, is made vampire, he loses any shred of magical ability.”