Fucking Sakal must have been working on this spell for months before he ever arrived in Barcelona, and then it would have taken him weeks more to cast it.
Xavier didn’t care about Sakal’s pain and effort, other than as points of information to advise his own attack. He was already working on his first choice, which involved probing the field’s magical energy with that part of his own power that deflected magic. What he’d discovered so far was that in addition to being obnoxiously all-encompassing, the spell had several layers, each of which seemed to be a separate casting. Without appearing to be doing anything, he began actively working to break through the barrier. Every layer demanded a fresh effort, which only mattered because of the delay. His plan had been to ambush and kill Sakal when he returned to his lair for the sunrise.
But right now, it was him and Chuy who’d been ambushed, stuck underneath a fucking glass dome inside a sorcerer’s complex spell, with the sun only minutes away from rising.
Sensing movement, he shifted the focus out of his own head and onto Sakal, even as another of the spelled layers fell beneath his power, and he began working on the next. The sorcerer strolled closer, as if he had nothing to fear, despite Xavier’s vastly greater power. His expression was one of such confidence and satisfaction that Xavier knew the bastard didn’t realize his carefully crafted spell wouldn’t hold much longer. Xavier wasn’t the kind to taunt his enemies with details that could warn them, so he simply watched and waited, knowing Sakal wouldn’t be able to stand the silence. He’d break first, driven by a compulsion to boast about his own cleverness and a deep-seated need to be the smartest one in the room.
“Lord Xavier,” Sakal crooned. “What a surprise.” The asshole was dressed in fighting leathers, which, had the situation been less dire, would have been laughable. He’d never been a warrior, had never learned even the most basic sword skills, claiming it was unnecessary since his magic would defend him.
Xavier simply stared, most of his attention still focused on breaking the spell.
“Nothing to say?” The sorcerer was pacing back and forth, moving leisurely, as if he had all the time in the world, despite the rising sun which was a growing fire in the back of Xavier’s skull. Sakal stopped his pacing abruptly, and directed an angry glare at Xavier, probably frustrated that his vision of this moment wasn’t working out as he’d hoped. Had he expected Xavier to beg?
The thought had a slow smile lifting Xavier’s lips. Fury filled Sakal’s expression, his eyes gleaming with the dull red light of a weak vampire.
Seeing that, Xavier’s smile broadened into a grin, but he still said nothing.
One of Sakal’s women stepped up with a whispered warning that had the sorcerer glancing at the growing light above the glass dome. With obvious effort, he relaxed his expression once again, and pasted an insincere smile on his face. “Did you ever meet my brother?” he asked casually, eyes narrowing when Xavier remained silent. “No?” he continued. “I had two of them, and frankly three boys were too much for my fragile mother to handle. Too many to love. So she picked a favorite. You’d think that would have been me. I was the youngest, my magic was evident at a very early age, and my brothers were both common laborers. Physically strong, I suppose, but it was my magic that had the potential to bring riches to the family and change our lives forever.
“And yet, it was my eldest brother she favored. The dullest of us all. But he was her firstborn, so perhaps that’s all it was. She loved the first child, and didn’t have any affection left for the rest of us.”
Xavier had to fight against the urge to roll his eyes at this glimpse into Sakal’s psyche. Was he actually trapped in this damn circle because the crazy bastard had mommy issues? “This seems like a private issue you need to work out for yourself, Sakal,” he said finally. “I don’t need to be here for this.”
Sakal spun on his heel and glared his hatred.
“If looks could kill,” Xavier thought smugly, pleased that he’d gotten a rise out of the weasel. But he didn’t say anything more.
“So clever, aren’t you?” the sorcerer snapped, then visibly pulled himself together. “Unfortunately, you do need to be here for this,” he said smoothly enough. “Because this is about revenge.”
That surprised Xavier enough that he paused his digging at the spell, but only for a moment. “Revenge? For what?” He and Sakal had never gotten along, but they’d had very little to do with each other. He’d already left Josep’s court by the time he’d returned to fetch Sakal for him, and his power had been so much greater than the sorcerer’s that they’d had little in common after that.
“For what?” Sakal hissed, no longer making any effort to disguise his emotions. His lips were drawn back over his fangs, his eyes still gleaming red. “For destroying my life, Ya Ibn el Sharmouta!”
Xavier fought a smile at the Arabic curse, which reminded him that Sakal had been raised in what was now considered the Middle East. That might have accounted for his mother’s preference for her first-born son, and in turn, for Xavier’s current predicament. What a fucked-up world. But with the sun rising, he had no time to banter insults. And neither did Chuy. Feigning surprise, he said, “I wasn’t the one who made you Vampire. That was our Sire, Josep.”
“The great Josep Alexandre.” Sakal all but spit the name. “He shredded my life for nothing.”
Xavier raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You consented to the change. I was there. I heard you.”
“For nothing,” he repeated furiously. “A life of wealth and power, never growing old, never having to face the great unknown of death. Meaningless promises, when the price was my magic, and the vampire power I acquired worth less than nothing.”
Xavier shrugged. Josep had made no guarantees. They’d discussed the possibility that Sakal would lose his magic. Some Sires wouldn’t have bothered to warn him, but Josep had.
“All right,” Xavier said agreeably. “You were angry, furious even, at Josep. But you killed him, didn’t you? Not yourself, of course. You wouldn’t risk your own life, but your assassin did his job well enough. So what’s that got to do with me?”
“Because when I didn’t come through the transition as a powerful vampire, when even my magical birthright was diminished, Josep discarded me like week-old meat. Rotted and useless.”
“Not useless,” Xavier corrected, as another spell layer surrendered with a lash of power that had him tensing for fear that Sakal would detect the change. “Though certainly not what he had hoped for when he chose you. He kept you at his court and even paid another sorcerer to restore your magic. Eventually.”