“And if I choose to refuse this . . . gift?”
It was Josep’s turn to look surprised. “Why would you? You’re a sorcerer, and I’m offering to add the power of a vampire to the magic you already possess.”
Sakal took a cautious step back from the vampire lord who’d drawn steadily closer as he spoke. “Lord Josep, I am greatly honored that you would consider such a thing, but you surely remember the war between our peoples, and the carnage that resulted. Vampires and sorcerers are both creatures of magic, that’s true. But the two magics are opposed to one another. The best outcome would be that I wake from”—he gestured in agitation, clearly uncertain as to precisely what action was necessary to make him a vampire—“the ceremony,” he said finally. “To find myself with no power at all.”
Josep seemed amused. “If that is the best, what would then be worst?”
“That the two powers would battle within me until the conflict caused such pressure that my body exploded into a fine paste of blood and entrails.”
Xavier smirked. In his opinion, that was the least likely outcome, though Sakal couldn’t know it. The magic that turned a man into a vampire was more than powerful, it was possessive. It might do battle with the sorcerer’s magic, but it would win, and would then rebuild whatever parts of Sakal’s body had been damaged in the process. It could take months, or even years, he supposed. But eventually vampire magic would claim the body.
“That scenario is highly unlikely, for reasons you cannot yet be trusted with.” Josep shrugged, as if either outcome was acceptable, to him anyway. “The best case, however, would be that you wake as a powerful vampire, with your sorcery intact. A sorcerer vampire. Something this world has never seen.”
Sakal couldn’t hide the greedy gleam in his gaze. He was also unable to hide his thoughts from the two vampires, though he probably didn’t realize it. The fool magic user actually saw only two possibilities, one of which was his death. But the other . . . . He saw himself with a power equal to Josep’s. Saw his future as the ruler of Spain with greater power than any vampire or sorcerer in the world.
He pretended to ponder Josep’s offer, not knowing that he would be turned before the night was over, whether he agreed or not. Josep wasn’t interested in Sakal’s future, only his own. If Sakal proved a useful tool, he would be kept. If not, he would be discarded, one way or the other.
Xavier wanted to bare his fangs in a grin. If Josep decided the sorcerer needed to be killed, the task would fall to him. And he would most definitely enjoy it.
“Very well.” Sakal somehow managed to imbue the simple words with an overload of pomposity. “I agree.”
Josep’s lip curled in an amused smile, but he said nothing. He simply crooked a finger in Sakal’s direction, then turned and led them all through an open door into a small sitting chamber, with a richly brocaded lounge and plenty of shadows. Xavier secured the door behind them with his own magic, then stood guard over his Sire, just in case the sorcerer was stupid enough to attack during the ceremony.
Sakal discarded his elaborate robe and loosened the neck of his tunic willingly enough, seeming intrigued more than anything else. At least, until Josep sank his fangs into his throat. Then the almighty sorcerer whimpered like a child, until he finally spared himself further humiliation and passed out.
The blood exchange took some considerable time. It wasn’t a simple thing to drain a human’s blood until he stood on the knife’s edge of death, and then to replace that blood with the vampire lord’s own. But eventually it was complete, and Sakal was lying unconscious and limp on the elaborate lounge.
“He’ll be moved to the cellar before sunrise.” Josep poured himself a glass of blood-dosed wine.
“And then?”
“And then we’ll see how he wakes.” He spoked dismissively, uncaring of the outcome. “Go, Xavier. Enjoy your night. Only, return after sunset tomorrow. I’ll want you with me when he wakes.”
“Of course, my lord.”
“And thank you, Xavier.”
“My honor, Sire.” Xavier managed a slight smile, but in his heart, he was worried. It wasn’t his to agree or not with whatever Josep chose to do, but he thought this evening had been unwise, and even foolishly arrogant. This “experiment” could go terribly wrong.
XAVIER STOOD IN a dank basement room the next night, waiting for Sakal to wake to his first night as a vampire. The first night of a vampire’s life was disorienting for everyone, just as his own had been. When the sorcerer finally stirred, Xavier knew at once that Sakal was definitely now a vampire, but did he have any power? While the new vampire lay blinking in confusion, Xavier sent a narrow thread of his own power searching for the same in Sakal. But though he twined his probe through flesh and thought, he found no measurable power, beyond the small amount necessary to keep him alive. No vampire power. But what of his sorcery?
“Is it done?” Sakal’s question was little more than a croak of sound.
“Yes,” Xavier said evenly, not wanting to reveal what he’d learned.
The sorcerer turned bleary eyes his way. “What is the outcome?”
“That is for Lord Josep to determine.”
Sakal sighed heavily, but managed to swing his legs over to sit on the side of the bed. At which point, he looked around in mingled confusion and disgust. “What is this place? It’s primitive. And cold as the grave.” His eyes widened. “Is that what this is? Am I in a grave?”
Xavier laughed, despite himself. “That is a tale for children. You’re in the basement of Josep’s home. Vampires require darkness and safety during the day. This basement provides that.”
“Surely a blanket or two would be appropriate,” he said, fingering the rough, cotton cover with distaste.
“Now that you’ve survived, the accommodations will improve.”
Sakal gave him a shocked glance that was quickly shuttered, to be replaced by his seemingly habitual sneer. “When is my audience with Josep?”
“As soon as you can stand on your own.”
Sakal was shaky, but determined, as they climbed the stairs, though he seemed to be growing more agitated with every step.
“Are you well?” Xavier asked, sympathetic to the sorcerer’s plight, for all that he was an unlikeable ass.
“My magic,” Sakal whispered. “Where is—?” He shot Xavier a suspicious glance and didn’t finish what he’d been about to say as they finally reached the room where Josep waited.