Sophia (42 page)
Authors: D B Reynolds
Colin’s head shot up and he glared at Raphael. “Leon,” he snapped. “Leon Pettijohn.”
Raphael gave a sideways tilt of his head, acknowledging the point. “Yet another victim of these killers. He died inside the bar, his neck was broken. With no blood and the body frozen, the scent was almost completely concealed by the air tight container.”
Colin nodded. “So what happens next?”
“We go after them, beginning with McWaters,” Raphael said. “He appears to be some sort of ringleader, maybe even the mastermind behind this scheme.”
“I think we should split up,” Colin suggested. “Ellen Pettijohn, Leon’s wife—his widow now—gave us a name that came up on the vehicle list, as well. Curtis Jenkins—”
“Deb’s brother,” Raphael said, surprising him.
“Yeah,” Colin agreed, puzzled. “But how do you know that? She just got back into town a month or so ago. Are you saying she’s involved in this?”
“Not directly, no.”
Colin waited for some sort of explanation, but it wasn’t forthcoming. Next to him Sophie seemed as puzzled as he was, at least at first.
But then she exhaled a breathy “ahhh” sound and said slowly, “But she is involved. Perhaps with one of your vampires?”
Raphael gave her an unfriendly look, which was answer enough.
“She is most likely the one who told them how devastated Jeremy was after Mariane was attacked,” Duncan provided. “Which is no doubt why they believed targeting Cynthia would incapacitate Lord Raphael.”
“No doubt,” Colin said dryly. “Okay, fine. So, one of us goes after McWaters and the other Curtis Jenkins.”
“McWaters is mine,” Raphael said flatly.
Colin nodded, trying not to think about what Raphael had planned for his old buddy.
“Then, Sophie and I will check out Jenkins and a couple of others on that list,” he said. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’re all holed up together somewhere.”
Raphael looked over at his lieutenant. “Duncan?”
“It makes sense, my lord. Sophia and Mister Murphy can reconnoiter Jenkins and the local citizenry. Several of your hunters can accompany them, while the rest of us take on McWaters and his
Colin’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He’d seen the vamps move fast earlier, but apparently they could do it over distance, too. Good to know.
“All right, then. Sophie?”
“That is acceptable. Good hunting to you, my lord.”
“To all of us,” Raphael growled, and his vampires responded with an eerie howl, a warning to all creatures that a far more dangerous predator was abroad in the forest tonight.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Raphael strode into the yard in front of Garry McWaters’s hideout, his vampires maneuvering silently among the trees to surround the house. This was the first of the two locations Murphy had suggested, but there was no doubt it was the right one. There were multiple trucks parked alongside and around the back, several of them showing signs of the gun battle, and at least one carrying a familiar and strong scent of blood. These were the men he sought, the men who had tried to kill his Cyn.
Next to him, Duncan was communicating quietly with the others, while Juro walked several paces ahead of him. They were all aware that the humans they hunted were armed and willing to kill. Cyn herself had taught Raphael and his vampires that even the most powerful among them could be destroyed by a human with the right weapon and the courage to use it.
Juro’s twin brother was back at the compound tonight, overseeing security and protecting Cyn, which had taken on a new urgency in light of Murphy’s information that she’d been specifically targeted. That same urgency fed Raphael’s hunger for blood tonight. The best way to ensure her safety was to eliminate those who sought to harm her.
Duncan moved closer. “Two sentries, my lord,” he said in a whisper that only another vampire could hear. “Both eliminated.”
Raphael nodded. Around them, the night had grown utterly quiet. Any animals that might have been about earlier had taken refuge in their dens or nests, or what other safety they could find. The ultimate predator was afoot tonight, the top of the food chain on this planet, and the animals, even the human ones, knew it.
He focused on the house in front of him. It was a rough-made structure, fairly old, but well maintained and larger than he’d anticipated. Instead of a pitiful cabin along the lines of Hugh Pulaski’s, this was more like the hunting lodges of old Europe—drafty structures with few private rooms designed to accommodate the lord and his retinue in what passed for comfort back then. The building in front of him had been expanded not too long ago, probably in anticipation of their killing spree. The additional wing was obvious and the sharp bite of fresh wood still stung his nose. The windows were covered with thick curtains, but there was light visible around the edges, and there were definitely people inside.
There was no music or television to be heard, and only muted conversation, which only made his task easier. He listened closely and isolated the beating hearts of—he cocked his head, counting—thirteen humans, one of whom was near death. With the two sentries whose hearts would never beat again, that made fifteen humans altogether. Raphael had himself and seven vampires, including Duncan and Juro. It was hardly a fair fight. For the humans.
“Duncan?”
“Ready, my lord.”
Raphael shrugged away the façade of humanity that he wore like a cloak, released the bonds that kept his power concealed and let it flow out of him like a river of molten silver. It warmed his veins and sped the pumping of his heart, pushing his lungs to expand more fully with every breath. It was a heady rush that had his lips drawing back in a vicious smile of pure exhilaration, his fangs emerging from his gums as he became the purest form of what he was . . . Vampire.
He lowered his head and focused on the flimsy structure in front of him. He could knock it down with a single brush of his power, could snuff out every living creature cowering within its walls. But that would be too easy, too kind to those who had dared harm what was most precious to him. And his vampires deserved to join in this hunt.
He let his power swell outward to touch the human dwelling, heard their cries of fear as the walls shook around them, tasted their terror as it drenched their cowardly minds.
“Garry McWaters,” he whispered, sending his words lofting on a thread of power so that every being inside the dwelling would hear it as if spoken directly into his own ear. “Come out and face me if you dare.”
Raphael waited, unconcerned. There was little possibility of his prey escaping. Even if the humans somehow managed to sneak out of the house, his vampires would catch them before they’d taken more than a few steps. And if by some completely unlikely stroke of luck they managed to take out one of his vampires, perhaps they deserved to live.
Or perhaps Raphael would wait until they believed themselves safe, and then he would hunt them down and kill them.
After a few moments, he heard low voices from inside, urgent words quickly hushed. The locks snapped back and the door opened. The lights within had been turned off, but that was more of a disadvantage to the humans than to him. They clearly had little understanding of whom they’d set themselves against when they’d taken on Raphael and his vampires.
Several men emerged finally from the shadows inside the house, edging slowly onto the narrow wooden porch where they spread out, shotguns and other weapons at the ready. Juro tensed, but Raphael watched impassively as one of their number separated from the rest, taking the steps down to the yard.
The human was a big man, nearly as big as Raphael himself. His head had been shaved bald and he wore clothing similar to that of Raphael’s hunters, black combat gear with lace-up boots. There were two weapons visible, and more concealed on his person.
Juro started to step forward, no doubt intending to disarm the man, but Raphael stopped him with a thought. This one was his, no else’s.
Raphael frowned. There was something draped around the man’s neck and shoulders, crisscrossed over his chest.
He stared at it, then raised his gaze to the human’s in disbelief.
“That’s right, vampire,” the human taunted. “Pure silver. Suck on that!”
Raphael exchanged a silent signal with Duncan, and then he moved. Faster than McWaters’s primitive senses could detect, Raphael stripped away the man’s guns and tossed them to one side, while Duncan hit the others with a mental blast that sent them reeling, dropping their weapons as they fell to their knees, one of them vomiting over the side of the porch.
Raphael took a single step back and paused intentionally, smiling at the look of shock in the man’s eyes at finding himself all alone, face-to-face with the big, bad vampire, and weaponless. He recovered with admirable speed, however, puffing out his chest, confident in the protection of his silver talismans.
Raphael’s smile took on a mocking edge as he reached out, grabbed one of the silver medallions studding the human’s thick chest, and snapped the chain holding it in place. Flipping the hunk of silver in his fingers, he held it up in front of McWaters’s face.
“Ssssst,” he hissed and laughed when the man jerked in surprise, his eyes gone wide with fear.
Raphael grinned, revealing the full length of his fangs. All around the clearing his vampires roared as they reacted to the surge of vicious satisfaction emanating from their Sire.
“Garry McWaters, I assume,” Raphael confirmed unnecessarily.
McWaters just stared at him, clearly terrified. And he had reason to be, because for him the terror was just beginning.
“Kneel,” Raphael said calmly.
McWaters started to shake his head, but Raphael slipped the command straight into his brain. “Now,” he added.
The human hit the ground with a soft grunt of pain. Raphael looked down and saw the silver glow of his own eyes bathing the man’s face in light. He brushed back his leather coat and began flipping the bit of silver medallion back and forth over the knuckles of his right hand.
“You should know, human, that I am Raphael. It was
my
mate you targeted. My mate you bragged about trapping in your cowardly ambush. My vampires you murdered in cold blood.”
Thinking of Cyn’s pain, of Marco and Preston’s terror, Raphael’s vision washed out in a haze of red for a moment. Everything in him screamed for vengeance, urging him to squash this human like a bug. But he wanted him to suffer first.
Raphael’s vision cleared and he contented himself with a small sliver of power, smiling in satisfaction as a series of sharp pops radiated from McWaters’s right arm. The man grunted in shock at first and then screamed as every bone in his arm cracked in sequence, one at a time.
Raphael leaned closer and whispered. “What do you think, human? Am I weak? Am I huddled in a corner terrified by your brazen display of courage in sending a dozen men to kill a single woman?”
McWaters only stared up at him, his eyes wide and unfocused with pain, tears lost in the sweat soaking his pale face.
Not enough. Not nearly enough.
Raphael studied the man, pretending a curiosity he didn’t feel. “Would you like to beg for your life? It probably won’t help, but you never know, and I’m quite certain my vampires would find it entertaining.”
Despite his fear, the human’s jaw clenched and he shook his head. “Just don’t make me one of you,” he rasped. “I’d rather die.”
Raphael reached down and grabbed the big man by his throat, lifting him effortlessly until his feet dangled several inches above the ground.
