Bond of Darkness (33 page)

DON RAFAEL'S GULFSTREAM JET. LOUIS ARMSTRONG INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT. THAT NIGHT

Ethan propped his chin on his fist, considering the miserable specimen of humanity before him.

The fellow blubbered again, too terrified to form words, whether verbal or inside his head. Neither torture nor threats had been needed to achieve this result, just the reminder that Madame Celeste didn't appreciate losers. It didn't take a fool to realize he'd spoken the truth.

Finally, Ethan waved him away, letting Jean-Marie's man finish questioning him.

Time to call his oldest hermano and his cónyuge, a couple who looked forward to sharing eternity together. Ethan had known they were a matched pair from the moment he'd seen them riding Jean-Marie's motorcycle through Austin. Jean-Marie had been a loner for too long to let his guard down around just any woman, let alone allow her to seduce him in public. And his Hélène had been so visibly delighted every time she touched him—hell, it had made Ethan and half the men in Austin jealous to see them.

Covering her escape from Madame Celeste's clutches was why they'd blown up Rosemeade Plantation, and he'd have been happy to do more. Although a pair of cónyuges was a priceless asset to any esfera, Jean-Marie's happiness was worth far more.

"Jean-Marie, do you read me? Jean-Marie, come back."

A long pause ensued.

Hell, if he was riding across country with Steve on their motorcycles, he wouldn't answer the radio either.

Ethan's mouth thinned.

"What is it, Ethan?" At least Jean-Marie was more polite than Ethan would have been.

He cut to the chase.

"According to the rats here at Bacchus's Temple, Madame Celeste is flying to Hollingsworth's ranch to reclaim her arsenal."

"Oh, hell," Hélène muttered.

"Yeah, that's just what I said. Did you have a chance to look it over when you made Hollingsworth talk last month, Jean-Marie?"

"Yes, it'd be a good start to World War III. Didn't touch it, though, since we left him in place as a double agent."

"Not much of one, considering he's in Aspen with his girlfriend," Ethan grumbled, remembering that lost argument with Don Rafael. "Madame Celeste is in the air right now, and I can't get there before she does."

"Houston's got their hands full with the floods, and you've got Dallas with you," Jean-Marie said slowly, identifying where the two closest compañías were—and why Ethan hadn't called them.

Ethan kept his mouth shut, letting his elder hermano make his own decision about involving himself and his cónyuge. Much as he'd like to have them involved, he wouldn't ask Jean-Marie to do so—nor would he beg two recently reunited cónyuges to risk everything on a very dangerous venture, even if they were the only ones who had a chance of succeeding.

"Hélène and I will go." Jean-Marie's voice crackled through the night.

Ethan threw back his head, almost shouting with relief.

"We should be able to reach Hollingsworth's ranch just before midnight," Jean-Marie continued.

"You should have a few minutes before Madame Celeste arrives." Ethan gave what encouragement he could. "Don Rafael is flying in with the mesnaderos, but I don't have a precise arrival time for him."

"Also, Hélène stole the names and addresses of Madame Celeste's bandolerismo in Texas."

"Thank God! I'll start putting together a hunting party so we can bag them quickly."

"Keep me informed."

An emphatic click ended the call, probably signaling two cónyuges who needed to encourage each other. What couldn't they do if they stood together, secure in their love?

Ethan slammed his chair back and stood up. Stupid to dwell on possibilities he'd never know. It was more important to think about the here and now and the few decades he'd have with Steve afterward.

HOLLINGSWORTH'S RANCH, EAST OF HOUSTON, LATER THAT NIGHT

Devol brought the Cessna lower, cursing the arrogance which had set his hand to a jet instead of a prop airplane. Jets were far faster,
out
, and
cher madame
undoubtedly needed help quickly. But props could land anywhere, unlike this clunky, noisy brute.

The runway was covered with grazing cattle, indistinct shadows in the waning moonlight against the pine trees. Even if he succeeded in moving them—hah!—someone would have to taxi Madame's jet out of the way, before he could join her.

And if that motorcade of armored Mercedes sedans coming down the main road didn't contain Don Rafael, he'd be polite to a priest for an hour.

Pine trees and cedars shivered, their needles lashing the breeze like a small hurricane.

Crap. He couldn't put down here, either.

He hauled back on the yoke and forced himself to fly higher. There had to be somewhere he could land and join the battle. Assuming there was still a fight by then.

Templeton was in New Orleans and Gray Wolf never willingly left Texas. It had to be the heraldo but they were only important for their treacherous tongues. Yes, he'd taken out two of Devol's mesnaderos but they were the least. Surely his best men could handle that rat, while Madame Celeste handled the vampira.

"Mathiot," he ordered. "Come in, Mathiot and Folse."

Silence.

"Mathiot," he snarled, mentally rehearsing the most painful disciplinary methods.

A single shot answered him, clear as crystal through his very good radio, followed an instant later by a blur of bullets.

Merde
! His gut twisted, sucking his hopes into a monstrous vortex.

Now
cher madame
was alone down there but she was no duelist. He could not fight for her, could not kill for her.

She needed to be warned—but how? Why hadn't he insisted
cher madame
take one of the headsets, instead of sending all of them with the men?

He circled again, cursing the trees which made it impossible to even guess at the number of wires concealed among them.

Killing himself wouldn't help her. He was her only defender, now those four assholes had gotten themselves killed inside the house.

Ah, there was the heraldo's motorcycle, glinting in the moonlight between the road and some trees and looking entirely too innocent. Hell, there were a thousand different ways to blow one up and all of them were very fatal.

If
cher
tried to ride it… No!

He gulped and tried an experiment for only the second time.
Madame
?

Nothing. He could have been talking to a fog bank.

Of course, she never, ever liked to speak mind to mind with anyone.

He beat on the instrument panel with his fist and circled in the other direction. If he was to save his love, his darling, he had to get his feet on the ground.

This time, he brought the jet in very low, looking for someplace, anyplace to put down.

Instinct led him toward the motorcycle.
Cher
Celeste, the one person who gave life its savor, was running toward it as fast as she could.

What had they done to frighten her?

Cher madame!

Time slowed and his veins chilled.

Fire burst out of the pine forest in a torrent, shooting for the impassive stars and tossing his plane forward.

Noooo
! Tears burned Georges' throat and eyes, too bitter to touch his skin. His goddess was dead, destroyed in a fire brighter than the sun. Everything that made life sweet was gone.

He automatically circled again to mourn her brilliant pyre, but his brain stirred slightly when the motorcade pulled up.

Don Rafael and his cónyuge embraced their heraldo and his slut. Celebrating their victory, no doubt, the bastards.

Georges started to snarl, his heart pounding for vengeance.

Blood for blood.

If Texas women thought they'd suffered before—hah! He'd destroy the greatest, most respectable woman in Texas as payback for their esfera's murder of Madame Celeste.

COMPOSTELA RANCH. AUGUST 7

Don Rafael's office was very crowded the next afternoon, with vampiros and compañeros squeezed onto every seat and standing against the wall. The heavy steel shutters were completely closed, protection against their enemies and the sun. Recessed lighting picked out every detail of weapons openly worn, glinting when men shifted slightly.

Today, Don Rafael displayed a cónyuge's full unity with his lady. She was seated at his desk, while he stood behind her at the fireplace, before his great sword. They moved with the same gestures, finished each other's sentences, echoed the same facial expressions.

Gray Wolf stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his cónyuge, Caleb, so close the same air could have passed through both pairs of lungs. Jean-Marie and Hélène, Texas's third pair of cónyuges, sat on the sofa with her head on his shoulder and their arms wrapped around each other. Last night's exhaustion no longer bruised her face, although she definitely clung to her lover.

Amazing that Don Rafael had accepted her, even though she was a firestarter.

A muscle throbbed in Ethan's cheek and he turned his attention back to his master.

"We know now where Devol has been hiding his bandolerismo,
mis amigos
—in off-site storage vaults for computer data, which are similar to safety deposit boxes."

Just as Steve had said—the brutes had been hiding in plain sight. So simple, once you knew where to look.

"A thousand apologies for missing them, patron," Luis growled.

"There are dozens of such facilities scattered across Texas and Oklahoma, to be found near every major city," Jean-Marie drawled. "Each one contains many locked vaults and is guarded day and night by a single guard."

"A vampiro only needs to wake up and command the guard to release him and then forget he ever did so. A similar process will handle the vampiro's return," Ethan added. Steve had explained the process that morning before leaving for Dallas, thanks to having previously dealt with a computer fraud case.

"At least some of them may have moved by now, since Madame Celeste died well before dawn and we haven't seen Devol since then," Gray Wolf pointed out quietly.

An unhappy silence swept through the room.

"We still have to check every address on the list." Doña Grania was pragmatic as always.

"Agreed." Don Rafael rubbed her shoulders as if drawing strength.

"Rough Bear, you have the lead, as alferez menor, with Hennessy's Dallas compañía as your shock troops. The attacks will begin immediately after sunset."

"We will be very—thorough, sir," Rough Bear purred. Rafael allowed his fangs to flash in acknowledgment, probably certain one of his eldest hijos would prepare suitably memorable departures to the afterlife for those bastards.

"Gray Wolf, I'd like you and Caleb to personally search Austin. The list is longer here."

Gray Wolf nodded silently.

"Jean-Marie, you and Hélène will go to San Antonio, to ensure it's thoroughly cleansed after so many attacks."

"Of course,
mon père
."

Just how far did Don Rafael intend to strip his defenses? Ethan kept his expression impassive.

"Luis, I want you to work with Jean-Marie on a list of every other similar place those brutes can move to."

"We have already started."

"
Excelente
—but be creative and thorough. I place my full reliance on you two."

Ouch. Luis would work himself and his entire staff into the ground after that.

Doña Grania wrapped her fingers over Don Rafael's without looking at him, a gesture of such love and compassion, it made Ethan's throat tighten.

He lifted his chin and stared at the great sword, that symbol of knightly honor and duty.

"Ethan."

"Sir?" He met his master's eyes calmly.

"You and I will stay here to coordinate the attacks."

"Of course, sir."

Crap. He'd have enjoyed bashing Devol's head in.

"You have much to do, everyone, in order to prepare for tonight's—frolics. Dismissed."

Rafael sat down on the desk and eyed his darling. "What do you think?"

"Of the plan?" She shrugged. "It's the best you could do."

"And my men's reaction?" He picked up her hand and started playing with her fingers. The left hand, of course. Thumb, forefinger… The square little box shifted in his pocket, as if eager to meet her.

"Gray Wolf is very pleased. Jean-Marie is glad to stay close to Compostela, so Hélène can continue to rest. Luis wants to redeem himself. You know that." He nibbled her fingertip and she raised an eyebrow.

"Ethan?"

"Wants to fight, of course."

"I won't let my best fighter go far from you."

"But you're here." She gulped, her pulse racing when he kissed her wrist.

"I'm the only vampiro in Texas who can walk in daylight,
querida
."

"But… Oh damn." She threaded her fingers through his and pulled him close. He readily slipped onto the floor at her feet, kneeling before his gracious lady.

"
Pequeña
, all will be well."

"I lost you once. Worse was living without you." Her voice was muffled against his hair.

"It was so for me, too. Even a small tumble felt like an abyss because you weren't there."

She sniffled, intertwined courage and terror flooding their link.

"
Mi corazón
, will you bind yourself to me in this life?"

"Whazzat?" She pulled back to stare at him, her blue eyes enormous.

"Will you marry me? We will have a proper marriage this time, not a rushed ceremony in a little chapel."

"Chosen so my Princesse couldn't change her mind about being able to spare my services?" Grania laughed and threw her arms around his neck. "Of course, I'll marry you, my darling—even if we have to go to Vegas!"

"Vegas!" His horrified objections were drowned in the most delicious fashion possible, by her kisses.

He came up for air finally, while sitting on the floor and cuddling her on his lap. He'd unceremoniously shoved his chair out of the way and they were facing his fireplace, with his great sword hanging above the empty hearth.