Christian (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 10) (28 page)

Chapter Eleven

Patrizia, Mexico

VINCENT LEANED out the open door of the helicopter, studying the small coastal town. It was suspiciously quiet. The streets were dark and empty, despite the warm weather and relatively early hour. He considered the fact that this was a fishing village, and that fishermen tended to go out early in the morning, and, hence, would go to bed early, as well. But his vampire senses were telling him something different. There were humans down there, but not as many as there should have been. And they were all huddled behind closed doors and windows.

His chopper was a big Sikorsky, outfitted for military transport, not comfort, so he was able to fit eighteen of his best warriors on-board, in addition to the two pilots and Lana. If it was up to him, Lana’s fine ass wouldn’t leave her seat, but he knew that wasn’t likely. The best he could hope for was to keep her far back from the front line, which was where she could do the most good anyway. She couldn’t go hand-to-hand with a vampire, not even one of Hubert’s zombies, but she was very handy with a gun, and had excellent tactical sense.

He sat down and flicked the switch on his headset to open the command channel, which would connect him with only Lana and his lieutenant, Michael. “Something’s wrong down there,” he said.

“I think that’s a given,” Lana said dryly. “Why else would we be here?”

Vincent gave her a dirty look. “There are humans in the town, but not many, and no vamps,” he clarified. “Mikey, have the pilot circle wider. Hubert’s army has to be here somewhere.” He watched Michael switch over to the pilots’ channel, then turned to Lana. “Whatever goes down tonight, you hang back, and use your gun. Try to find a spot where you can assess the battle for me.”

“Uh huh,” she said, nudging him with her elbow. “You’re not fooling me, babe. But I’ll go along with it, because this time, you’re right.”

“This time?” He couldn’t hear her snort in response, but he could see it.

“Here we go.” Michael’s voice came back on the channel as the helicopter banked, taking them wide over the foothills, which formed a narrow crescent-moon around the small village. There was a strip of flatland, a little over a hundred yards deep between the last houses and the first hills.

As they flew, Vincent closed his eyes. He didn’t need to
see
where they were going. Not with his eyes anyway. He opened himself to the extraordinary senses of his vampire nature, and the world narrowed and opened up at the same time. He was exquisitely aware of every one of his vampires around him, of the powerful link he had with Michael as his first child. But stronger and brighter than any other was his mate bond with Lana. She was in every beat of his heart, the very fire in his blood. How could anyone have ever doubted his feelings for her?

But he put that aside for now, stretching his awareness beyond the helicopter, searching for his enemy. He’d never met any of the European vampires, but Hubert had a reputation, and both Raphael and Christian had confirmed that rep. That he was powerful went without saying—he was centuries old and a vampire lord. But his notoriety went beyond that. He was ruthless and cruel, caring for nothing but his own lust for power. The very fact that he used up humans in order to create vampires who were barely deserving of the title, and who had no purpose but to be torn apart in the grinder of his ambition . . . that said it all.

They’d nearly finished the first pass of the foothills, when Vincent’s senses twinged in awareness. Without opening his eyes, he spun his raised finger in a circle, and heard Michael giving the pilots directions. The chopper banked again, sharply, and Vincent stood, drawn closer to the open door. The sign he was looking for suddenly blazed across his vampire senses. It wasn’t a gradual thing. It was more like a door that had been shut was suddenly opened.

Flicking the command channel open, he said, “That’s it, almost directly below us. Get us close enough to deploy.”

He opened his eyes then, physically searching the crumpled land of the foothills. There were a hundred places for even a large group to hide down there, but only from human eyes.

“My lord?” Michael stood next to him in the doorway, matching Vincent’s searching posture.

“More than thirty so far,” Vincent said absently, still counting. “They’re clustered together, and their presence is weak. It’s difficult to get a good count. Hubert’s zombies, I’m thinking.”

“But no Hubert?”

“There’s a stronger presence, but just one. And it’s muted, as if he’s trying to hide.” Vincent swore softly. “I wish I’d met him before, or at least touched his power.”

“Who else could it be?”

“Good question.”

The pilot’s voice came over the channel. “Going down, my lord. Topo display says there’s a valley down there. I should be able to hover at twenty feet.”

“That’ll do,” Vincent responded, taking his seat next to Lana.

“Can we light it up?” the pilot asked, requesting permission to clear the chosen landing zone by using the chopper’s two six-barreled machine guns, one on each side. They could fire 4000 rounds per minute, and were more than enough to clear a landing space for Vincent and his troops.

“Do it,” Vincent said, then nodded at two of his vampire fighters who took up their stations at the Miniguns, waiting for the pilot’s signal. Vincent clicked off his headphone and signaled for Lana to do the same. It was about to get very noisy up here.

Vincent caught the slight tensing of the gunner’s muscles, and touched Lana’s thigh in warning an instant before the guns opened up. Vampires cursed as hot cartridges spit from the feeder, a few of them bouncing around the compartment before making it out the door. He caught one in his bare hand as it flew at Lana’s head, and tossed it into the open air, pretending like his hand wasn’t burning like fuck. Lana took his hand and kissed the raw palm, which almost made it all better. He turned with a grin, and she rolled her eyes at him, mouthing the word,
“Men.”

He gave her a quick, hard hug. He was a vampire, not a man, but it was too noisy in the chopper to tell her that right now. He’d have to remember it for later.

The pilot’s voice came over his headset, on the broadcast channel, giving everyone the head’s up. “Ten seconds.”

Over at the door, Michael had his hands up where all of the fighters could see them, counting down.

When he hit two seconds, Vincent stood. He would be the first one out. Michael’s expression told him what his lieutenant thought about that, but they both knew it had to be this way. Vincent led from the front. He never asked his people to risk more than he did.

The ground was suddenly there. Vincent stepped into the open air, dropped the twenty or so feet, and landed easily. Vampires didn’t need ropes, not at this height. Lana did, but she hated to be the only one. He eyed the chopper closely, waiting for her slender figure to fill the doorway.

And there she was, one arm above her head, gripping the header over the door. Behind her, Vincent could see Michael, making sure Vincent was waiting for her, ready to grab her if necessary. Vincent waved a hand, knowing Lana wouldn’t be able to see it in the dark. She’d have a hissy fit if she knew he was watching out for her. The rope slithered out the chopper door. She grabbed it and jumped. And Vincent’s heart jumped with her.

He didn’t catch her as much as he braced her, hands on her waist, easing her impact with the hard, rocky ground, as she released the rope. Her knees bent to absorb the shock, and she immediately straightened, giving him a narrow look. Vincent merely shrugged. He wasn’t about to let her break a leg to make a point, no matter what she wanted. As the chopper lifted away, he put his mouth to her ear, and said, “Remember your position.”

She stiffened to attention and raised her hand to snap off a sarcastic salute, when suddenly her eyes went wide and attitude went out the window.

Vincent spun, and stared at what was coming at them. They’d all been calling Hubert’s creations zombies, for lack of a better word, but that’s exactly what they looked like. Red-eyed and blank-faced, but moving well enough, as they scrambled down the surrounding hillsides, heading toward Vincent and his people. Some were sporting very un-vampire-like wounds that should have healed by now. From the reports he’d read, it had been hours since this group had fought anyone, and longer still since their attack on the town. Even a low-level vampire would have been able to heal anything short of a lost limb by now. But whatever these creatures were, their vampire symbiote was so weak that they weren’t healing properly. Vincent didn’t think he could have created vampires like this. Didn’t know how it was done. Was this Hubert’s special talent? The equivalent of Vincent’s ability to read memories? Could such a thing be called a talent? It was an atrocity.

But whatever else these primitive vampires were, right now they were the enemy, and there was no doubt of their intent. They were here to kill anyone who got in their way.

Vincent did a quick survey of the battlefield. They were in a relatively clear space, surrounded by sloping hills of sandy rock. The ground beneath them was flat, but littered with small stones and gritty dirt, made worse by the “clearing” they’d done before landing. But the moon was bright behind scattered clouds, casting more than enough light for his vampires to fight by.

Michael stepped up to his side, his gaze never leaving the approaching army. “More than fifty,
jefe
.”

Vincent nodded. His people were probably outnumbered three to one, but numbers were often the least important factor when it came to vampire battles. Vincent’s fighters were bigger, stronger, and sure as hell more capable than these poor creatures, many of whom had probably been fishermen only yesterday morning.

“I’m going after Hubert. You know what to do,” he told Michael. The two of them had fought side-by-side for decades. There was no one he trusted more at his back, except perhaps Lana. But not when it came to this battlefield.

Michael pulled his attention away from the approaching army long enough to exchange a manly embrace with Vincent. “Kill the fucker,” he said with a vicious grin.

Vincent matched his grin, then looked over Michael’s shoulder. Lana was perched on a rock outcropping, fifteen feet above the battleground, guns laid out beside her. He sent a surge of energy across the clearing, surrounding her in warmth. She looked up, searching for him, smiling when the moon emerged strongly enough that she could see him. He wanted to climb up there and kiss the hell out of her, wanted to taste her skin, feel the heat of her body against his one more time. Just in case. This was war, and he was going up against another vampire lord. Anything could happen.

But because this was war, he settled for blowing her a kiss before closing his mind to everything except the coming battle. Spinning away, he put on a burst of vampire speed and smashed through the approaching zombie vamps, as he went to confront their master. Those few who got in his way, he simply tossed aside, ripping off limbs as necessary, picking up one, and using him as a club to batter another at one point. None of them tried to stop him. They seemed incapable of recognizing that he was a greater threat than any other vampire on the field. He was merely one fighter, while their focus was on the larger group behind him. Their directions from Hubert were clear, and just as clearly one-dimensional. Once Vincent was through their lines, he was forgotten.

The sounds of battle rose behind him, as he started his climb. The zombies had come from somewhere within these hills, so it made sense that Hubert was concealed up there, directing the fight from the safety of his hiding place. Finding a spot beneath a heavy overhang, he sent his awareness outward, searching for the single, strong presence that would be Hubert. As before, when he’d searched from the chopper, the lone signal was bright, but muted, as if Hubert was attempting to camouflage his presence. It would have worked if Vincent hadn’t been a vampire lord himself, or if he’d sent someone else to head up this offensive. If the present battle was any indication, that’s what Hubert would have done. There he was tonight, hiding in the hills, letting his vampires die to protect him. Maybe he had assumed Vincent would do the same, and so had counted on his camouflage to shelter him from the actual fighting.

But Vincent
was
a vampire lord, and he was fucking powerful. He cut through the fog Hubert had walled himself behind, and started climbing. Turning Hubert’s own game on him, he kept his power signature locked down tight, so that the other lord wouldn’t know who was coming at him. Let him think Vincent was a soldier, a master vampire, but nothing more.

He scrambled up and over a final outcropping of rock so loose that, had he not had the enhanced physical abilities of his vampire nature, he almost certainly would have slid right back down the hill, probably breaking a few bones in the process. Hubert was a coward, but he had the smarts to choose a good hiding spot.

Vincent came over the edge cautiously, and crouched low, with senses wide open. A bolt of power blasted across the open space, pulverizing the rock behind him and sizzling by so close to his head, that it seared his cheek in passing.

“Fuck that,” he snarled. He snapped his shields into place, and straightened to force the challenge. Releasing the full measure of his power, he shuddered under the exquisite pleasure of it, feeling it flow out and around him in a rush of ecstasy that rivaled sex. In his mind’s eye, the power embraced him, caressing his skin like a lover, before soaring into the night to surround him. But this was no time for poetic musings. He had a vampire lord to kill.

“Fucking coward,” he called, aiming the taunt at a tight cluster of ancient prickly pear cactus that rose higher than his head, their big blooms shining yellow in the moonlight.

He waited for Hubert to answer his challenge, to come out of hiding and confront Vincent with a display of his own. But the only response was another bolt of sizzling energy that shot across the clearing and splashed harmlessly against his shields.