It was hardly the reaction of a vampire lord who was confident in his power. And Christian’s smile turned smug. “I’ll take my leave, Anthony, and wish you luck upon your return to New Orleans.”
The vampire lord’s dark eyes flared at the subtle warning in Christian’s words. It was a reminder that when Anthony surrendered the territory, and went back to being Master of the city of New Orleans, he would owe fealty to the next Lord of the South, whoever that was. Even Christian.
If Anthony had disliked him before this little tête-à-tête, he thoroughly despised him now. And Christian knew he’d have to watch his back even more closely. He gave a mental shrug. It wasn’t what he’d hoped for from tonight’s meeting, but it wasn’t a complete surprise either.
“À bientôt,” he said, then intentionally turned his back on the fuming vampire lord and walked out of the office, shoving the doors open with a wisp of his power.
Marc was waiting for him, already on his feet and alert by the time Christian slammed the doors open. He didn’t need anyone to tell him how the meeting went. “Sire.” He didn’t go for the formal address often, but certain situations demanded it, and he understood.
“Let’s go,” Christian snapped. A quick glance told him beautiful Natalie was missing from the office, but that was probably for the best. He was in no mood to be charming.
“Lord Christian,” the receptionist said breathily, calling his attention to her for the first time. She was a lovely young woman, but in her sheer blouse and cheek-hugging skirt, she was a typical vampire groupie, the kind he avoided in the clubs. He was surprised Anthony would have someone like her in his front office, no matter how decorative she was.
“What is it?” he asked impatiently.
She blinked rapidly at his tone. “I . . .” she stuttered, then shot a quick glance at Marc, and smiled instead. “Good luck.”
Christian gentled his expression deliberately. “Thank you. Your name?”
“MariAnn, my lord.”
He smiled. “Not a lord yet, MariAnn, but soon. Good evening.”
Gathering Marc with a glance, he strode out of the office and into the hall, eager to leave Anthony and his hostility behind. No doubt, the vampire lord had already contacted his people to inform them of these latest developments. And he’d probably be on the phone whining to Raphael before long, too.
“I take it that didn’t go well,” Marc said in a voice meant for his ears alone.
“I didn’t expect much, but got even less. It was necessary, though, and if nothing else, it gave me the lay of the land. We need to be doubly alert. Tony’s playing sides, and I’m not exactly his favorite.”
“No. As it happens, however, I can tell you who is. My buddy Cibor, the vamp who stopped me on our way in earlier—he’s one of Raphael’s people, part of the guard contingent sent to ensure Jaclyn’s safety.”
“Jaclyn,” Christian repeated. “Raphael’s supposed representative. I always knew the big guy was propping Anthony up, but having met him, I understand just how much Jaclyn must be helping him. No wonder she’s sick of it. All the effort and none of the fun of being lord.”
Their path took them down the hall and onto the open stairway landing above the front door. Christian shot a look downward, and found the entrance clogged with a large group of visitors going through security. He didn’t want to wade through that, but, at the same time, instinct had him wondering if he and Marc were being herded.
“Back door,” he said tightly.
Marc followed his glance. “Fuck.”
“Tell me what Cibor said,” Christian muttered as they retraced their steps to a side hallway that would take them to the back of the house.
“Okay, first, you were wondering who was behind Anthony’s sudden retirement? It was Raphael. He didn’t anticipate how totally ineffective Anthony would turn out to be when he put him in place after Jabril died, and he’s tired of it. He told Anthony that he wants out, that he’ll have to stand or fall on his own strength. Anthony is pissed as hell, and has complained bitterly to Jaclyn about the new arrangement, but she’s not sympathetic either. She’s the one who’s been propping him up on a daily basis, and she’s sick of it, too. She and Cibor, and her entire team, want to go home to California. They can hardly wait for this challenge to be settled, and they’re not making a secret of it, which only adds to Anthony’s list of grievances.”
“Why would he share all of this with you? Raphael’s people aren’t usually so chatty.”
“I’m your lieutenant, and Jaclyn got a call from Raphael. Apparently, you’ve picked up a backer.”
Christian received that bit of information with more than a little interest. He’d wanted Raphael’s so-called blessing, but hadn’t anticipated that the Western lord would actively work on his behalf. Apparently, he’d been right when he’d told Marc earlier than Raphael wanted the strongest contender to win. He hadn’t met any of the others yet, but he knew his own strength and after his visit to Malibu, so did Raphael.
“What else did Cibor have to say?”
“No surprises. He told me Anthony’s really pushing for one of his own children to take over, and I think we all know why. Anthony will owe allegiance to whoever wins the challenge, and he’d rather it be someone who has a prior allegiance to him personally. Two of his guys are in the running—Noriega and Scoville. They’ve both been with him for centuries, which means their loyalty runs deep.”
“Are there any other challengers? Anyone from outside the territory?”
“A few, but only two of them serious. Marcel Weiss is a fugitive from the Midwest, one of Klemens’s people who’s looking for a new home now that Klemens is dead, and Aden’s in charge. And Stefano Barranza out of Mexico; he’s unhappy with Vincent’s rule. No one’s sure who sired him, but he worked for Enrique.”
“And let’s not forget Hubert,” Christian reminded him. “He’s not going to sit back and politely wait his chance, while all of this shakes out up here. He’ll take advantage instead.”