Rajmund (Vampires in America #3)

Rajmund (Vampires in America #3) Page 57

He saw their uneasy reactions and smiled. “I understand your concerns,” he said and raised his eyes to include Emelie in his words. “But it must be this way. Emelie?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Remember your promise."

Her eyes filled with pink tears, but she nodded once, sharply. “Yes, my lord."

He gazed around at the assembled vampires and noted with some surprise the number of human guards who'd chosen to accompany them. He hadn't noticed them at Byron's, which meant someone had called them. He glanced over and saw Emelie avoiding his gaze. He shook his head in amazement. She was a rare gem, his Emelie.

He raised his head and let his power flow, reveling in the unparalleled rush of exhilaration as it spun outward into the night, announcing his presence to Krystof and to anyone else in range with the ability to detect such things. He breathed deeply and the air filling his lungs tasted as sweet and pure as any breath he'd ever drawn. His awareness stretched lazily, like a cat rising from an afternoon nap, his senses taking in the night around him. The beating of his vampires’ hearts surrounded him like a timpani concerto, those of his human followers weaker but just as true. He closed his eyes against the overload of sensation, the tempting intoxication, and then opened them again with a clear purpose.

"Let's not keep Krystof waiting."

He swept around the house and into the kitchen, surprising three vampires who looked like they'd been caught on a blood run to the refrigerator. They stared at him in shock, only belatedly putting up a weak resistance. Raj brushed them away with a bare wisp of his power, slamming them against the walls and cabinets, draining their power and leaving them lying on the floor in a stupor. This was the price Krystof paid for choosing only the weak and stupid for his minions. Barely slowed by the encounter, Raj strode deeper into the house and down the stairs.

The basement was pandemonium. Warned by his approach through the kitchen, several of Krystof's brutish defenders rushed to the foot of the stairs, full of bristling intent and raging testosterone, but there was no organization to their assault. They seemed directionless, like pinballs in a machine, bouncing back and forth, not knowing whether to charge the intruder or retreat to defend their master's inner sanctum. Between them, Cervantes and Yossi handled the initial assault, and Raj easily overpowered the rest. He stood on the lower step and surveyed the wreckage, wondering once again at the vampire lord's meager resistance. And where was Jozef?

He shook his head. These things no longer mattered. The challenge had been well and truly rung now, and there was no going back. He crossed the room quickly and slammed the door open without ceremony. Krystof was hunched on his elaborate settee, his face buried in the bloodied neck of a young woman. He reared back at Raj's abrupt entry, mouth open in a furious snarl, fangs dripping blood down the lacy, white linen of his shirt. Raj barely registered the vampire lord's anger, his eyes filled instead with the sight of the woman's long, blond hair, her graceful, bare legs hanging limply to the floor, one white arm reaching out, her hand open in entreaty.

He roared, taking the room in two hard strides and tearing the woman from Krystof's grasp. Her hair fell away and he stared at an unfamiliar face. Relief surged through him that this wasn't Sarah lying dead in his arms, followed by guilt that he could find any relief in this woman's senseless death. He lifted his gaze and found the vampire lord who had killed her standing before him, his mouth open in a disgusting parody of laughter.

"You think to unseat me, Rajmund?” he taunted scornfully. His eyes shone like twin flames against his blackened soul as he gave his power free rein, letting it swell until the house groaned with the pressure, furniture flying against the walls and shattering into pieces as if a hurricane had risen fully formed in the center of the small room. But even that wasn't enough. A surge of almost electric power jolted the room as Krystof reached out to his minions, ripping their defenses away and sucking them dry, stealing what strength they had and weaving it into a seemingly impenetrable cocoon of protection for himself.

"You're nothing but a wharf rat,” he snarled at Raj. “I was born to rule centuries before you were born, and I will rule for centuries after you've blown away in the wind along with your pitiful collection of children.” He sneered the last word, flinging it into Raj's face like a gob of spittle.

Raj flexed his will, massing his own power with a sure, smooth elegance. It grew like the first wave of a great storm, raging higher, denser, drawing strength from that impossible place within himself, that reservoir of vampiric power that made the difference between a minion and a lord. He reached out and was aware of Cervantes and Yossi standing untouched just outside the office door, of Emelie on the street above channeling the power of every one of his vampires, both here and in far away Manhattan. She gathered even the meager life force of his human guards, sheltering them all even as she offered a lifeline of power for him to draw upon in need.

He knew his eyes had begun to burn with their cold, blue fire, and he smiled, seeing comprehension dawn on his Sire's face. “Talk is cheap, my lord."

Krystof struck without warning, cracking the defensive cocoon of his power to launch a battering ram of pure energy across the small room. Raj grunted as it hit him, feeling his own strength dip beneath the lethal attack, giving way without breaking, flowing around Krystof's spear of power, consuming it, absorbing it into himself so that it left him stronger than before, not weaker. The vampire lord's eyes widened in shock and he strove viciously to pull back, straining to break free of Raj's might before he found himself sucked as dry as his own minions.

Raj reached out a hand and sliced downward, as if brushing away a clinging bit of flotsam. He felt a jolt of energy as his power closed around him once again, and he saw Krystof reel backwards, staggering slightly against the rubble that had once been his desk. But the old man wasn't finished. He was a vampire lord, not some overreaching slave who could be dismissed with a quick flex of power. He stood straight, arms outstretched, hands fisted as if gathering lightening from the very air. He thundered his challenge, rattling the walls and slamming a solid wall of energy across the room, crashing into Raj like tons of unforgiving stone, driving him back, forcing him to his knees. Raj howled in defiance, furious at his stupidity, his towering pride. He'd been so supremely certain of his own superiority, so swaggering in his arrogance. While he was laughing at the old man's efforts, Krystof had seized the initiative and was battering him with volley after volley of lethal force. He felt himself weakening beneath the unrelenting attack, while Krystof grew stronger, draining more and more of his minions, reaching to the ends of his territory, his very ruthlessness his greatest advantage.

Raj could hear Emelie screaming in his head, demanding he take what she offered, begging him when her demands went unheard. He thought of his vampire children, of Cervantes and Danny, of Yossi and his Angel. Of Emelie. What would happen to them, what vengeance would Krystof exact against his people for their master's arrogance? Unacceptable.

He opened himself to the flow of Emelie's power, drinking from the combined strength of his many children, letting his rage fuel his determination as he surged to his feet with a roar that threatened to bring the house down around them. He pummeled Krystof with blasts of power, one after the other, refusing to permit the vampire lord to dictate the terms of this encounter. He fought back in his own way, attacking from every side, forcing Krystof to defend against volleys from all around. The vampire lord howled, desperately fighting to recreate his impenetrable cocoon even as Raj's power ate away at its very fabric.

Krystof dropped finally to his knees in a last ditch defense, sucking power into himself like a vacuum, giving up any attempt to attack in favor of simple survival. When even that failed, he looked up and met Raj's eyes, his mouth open in a bloody grin, the fires in his eyes dying to faint embers. “I wish you joy of it,” he said, and then laughed, howling like a madman as Raj drew his outstretched arms into his body until they were held before him like two fisted pillars of energy. Krystof screamed in agony as a terrible weight crushed him to the floor, every bone in his body cracking beneath the unbearable pressure, joints tearing and lungs bursting, blood seeping from every pore, every orifice, as his body seemed to fold in upon itself. Raj opened one fist wide, his skin whitening with strain, until he snapped the fist closed and Krystof's heart burst into flame within his chest.

The air in the room grew suddenly still, not a whisper of movement, not a speck of dust so much as drifted, and then like a vacuum collapsing in an instant, Krystof's body vaporized and disappeared, becoming no more than a pile of dust and bloody linen on the carpet.

Raj closed himself away from Emelie and fell to his knees, his head falling forward to his chest in exhaustion as he drew a deep breath . . . and screamed in agony. His mind was suddenly filled with thousands of voices as every living vampire in the territory clamored in fear, reaching out to him for sustenance, for protection, for their very lives. He was aware of the office door flying open, of Cervantes and Yossi rushing in to surround him, joining their power in an effort to buffer the overwhelming demands of Raj's new subjects. He rocked slowly back and forth, muscles straining, tendons standing out on his neck as he strove to make sense of what was happening, to bring some semblance of order and reason to the endless cacophony. The wall of power surrounding him grew stronger as Emelie added her own strength, as she channeled the others in carefully, building the wall brick by brick until at last the voices quieted, becoming no more than a steady hum in the background.

Raj remained on his knees, his head hanging forward, chin on his chest. Blood wept from his eyes and welled from his hands where his nails had dug gouges in his palms. He heard voices outside, footsteps pounding down the stairs, and then Emelie was there in the flesh, kneeling next to him.

"My lord?” she said softly. “Raj?” she added urgently, when he didn't respond.

He cracked one eye opened and rasped, “I hate that vampire shit."