“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.