The minute the door opened, Xavier was bombarded by the reek of sorcery. If he’d had any doubts that this was the sorcerer’s lair, they vanished in that instant. Sakal had been living and practicing his magic here much longer than Xavier had guessed. It irritated him that he hadn’t sniffed out even the softest whisper of the sorcerer’s presence before the attacks. He’d been too confident that the city was his, too focused on problems and building alliances farther from home.
The air inside was frigid, as if the air-conditioning was set to run continually. Freezing air gusted down the short entrance way, caught by bare walls and a marble floor that was so cold, he could feel it through his boots. What the hell did Sakal have in here that he needed the temperature barely above freezing? Or maybe the question was who. He scowled, reminding himself that zombies weren’t real, and vampires weren’t dead, for fuck’s sake. Maybe the asshole just liked it cold.
The freezing effect eased when he reached the end of the semi-enclosed entrance, roughly eight feet from the now-repaired door. He turned when Chuy came up next to him. “I’m stepping out first. Give me five minutes,” he telepathed. “Then follow, if you can. No heroics, Chuy.”
His lieutenant snorted his reply to that, and Xavier knew the vamp would go down fighting no matter what he said. As one of his children, Chuy was hardwired to defend his Sire with no regard for his own life. Although that cowardly fucker Dênis had proven, all those years ago, that the wiring could be overcome.
Xavier’s expression split in a fang-bearing grin, not only ready for battle, but looking forward to it. Because Chuy wasn’t the only one with hardwiring. Xavier was a fucking vampire lord. Violence was a beast that ran with the blood in his veins, and he was ready to set it free.
He stepped beyond the walls of the entrance and found . . . nothing. Not on this floor. No one breathed, no hearts beat, no scent gave away their presence. He straightened from the ready position he’d assumed, expecting some level of opposition to be waiting for him. “What the fuck?”
They were standing in a huge, wide-open space that wouldn’t have been out in place in a cathedral or a palace. Or a bank, for that matter, which probably was what it had once been. The ceiling soared into a glass-topped dome that appeared as if it would admit light during the bright of day. It wasn’t exactly the preferred arrangement for a vampire, no matter that he could hide downstairs when the sun was shining. The room itself echoed the domed shape. An open mezzanine made up most of the room, the circle split by the foyer in which he stood. A bank of two elevators was behind him to his left, and a narrow set of stairs on his right climbed to the mezzanine. Four elaborately carved columns, at least six feet around each, supported the mezzanine. Their design was repeated in much narrower posts which supported the half-height bannister providing safety for anyone walking around up there.
Not that anyone was. It was as empty as what he could see of the first floor. Which was most of it, judging by the layout.
“Why leave it deserted like this?” Chuy whispered, as if there was anyone to hear. Or maybe it was just the cathedral-like atmosphere.
“They’re hiding somewhere. Check the upstairs,” he said, indicating the mezzanine with a lift of his chin.
Chuy nodded, took a running start, and leaped upward, swinging over the bannister with graceful ease.
Xavier smiled and scanned the ground floor, walking over to where a simple wooden desk sat, with three chairs. Two in front, one behind. The incongruity of the inexpensive desk and chairs sitting in the midst of such conspicuous elegance stood out to him. It also surprised him, because Sakal had always been fastidious about not only his personal appearance, but the presentation of anything related to him. If he had a desk, it had to be an antique. If there were fabrics, they were the world’s most sought-after, the most expensive silks and brocades available. The room suited him, with its soaring architecture and overworked columns, the gold and crystal chandelier. Even the marble was beautiful, a delicately inlaid circular pattern, that glittered with gold and other minerals.
But the desk apparently served a purpose. A quick search revealed basic tri-fold pamphlets, filled with pictures of the farm, along with happy faces enjoying communal meals and working in the fields and gardens. And then there were the prophet’s own words—sayings so patently self-conscious that Xavier could practically hear Sakal’s prim voice as he stood before his acolytes. What an ass.
So the lair doubled as a recruiting center. Empty for the night, but Sakal must have someone manning the desk during the day. He turned to study the elevators, and pressed the button to call one. The overhead display showed both cars locked in the basement, which had to be where the sleeping quarters were located, since his scouts had verified Sakal’s pre-dawn arrival the previous day.
Chuy’s soft footsteps announced his return via the stairs. “All empty up there, too, Sire. A lot of offices, but it doesn’t appear any of them are used.”
“There’s a basement,” Xavier told him. “Elevator’s locked. We can’t get there, unless there’s another set of stairs going down.”
“Not worth the effort,” Chuy observed. “No one we care about should be down there yet.”
“No, I sense humans. No one else.” He shrugged. “This is essentially what we hoped to find. The only question is where to set up while waiting for Sakal to come home.”
Xavier dropped his MP5 on the desk, irritated at having it around his neck when he wasn’t using it. He’d have plenty of warning to reclaim it before Sakal entered the building, and even then, he doubted he’d need it. Chuy followed suit and the two of them walked back out into the big room. Chuy gave the glass dome an unhappy glance, but Xavier was focused on the mezzanine. It was a good hiding place, but what if Sakal went straight for the elevator car? He could very well be inside, with the doors closed before Xavier reached him. Or maybe not. Xavier was a hell of a lot faster than Sakal, but the logistics could be better. He spun on his heel, eyeing what looked like a bar set-up on the far side of the main space, and tucked under the mezzanine on that side. He’d just reached it when his senses blared to life warning him that humans and something else were on the move from below.
He ran for the elevators, with Chuy behind him, moving so fast that Xavier barely managed to grab his lieutenant’s arm, stopping his headlong rush into the energy barrier that had suddenly appeared to surround the entire domed space, trapping them inside.
“Fuck.” Xavier’s curse was low and vicious. He couldn’t explain how it had been done, but suddenly, that damn sorcerer strolled out of the elevator, surrounded by six female bodyguards, every one of whom was blond, beautiful, and firm with muscle.
He watched expressionless as Sakal approached the very edge of the marble circle, his gaze dancing with satisfaction, and his smile so smug that Xavier wondered if it hurt. He felt no fear. But then he’d never been afraid of Sakal. Magic was the sorcerer’s only weapon, and it didn’t work on him. The thought clicked over in his brain and he reached out with his power to barely brush against the enclosing wall of energy, testing its strength, its limits and vulnerabilities. He paid particular attention to the air above him and Chuy, wondering if the sorcerer had thought to make his spell all encompassing, or if he’d taken a shortcut and—Nope. The energy field curved over his head, surrounding him on all sides, and as far as he could determine, disappeared into the floor. He doubted the floor itself was included in the spell, suspected it was impossible. But tunneling through marble wasn’t his first choice of escape.