They made it back to the safety of the cave before dawn and with time to spare. The two humans were big men, but Xuan and Enrique had the strength of their Vampire blood to help them. Xuan made the two brothers as comfortable as possible under the primitive conditions, then settled into his own bedroll. Tomorrow night would be a new challenge. Introducing two young vampires to their new lives and their new lord.
XUAN WOKE THE next night to the hated sound of Enrique’s voice. This would be their last night together. He’d fulfilled whatever obligation he had toward the other vampire, but more importantly, he had no desire to be a foot soldier under Enrique’s rule. He knew the kind of lord Enrique would be. He sometimes felt guilty over his role in creating an army to make it possible.
“They’re not doing well,” Enrique informed him, with the strained patience of someone who’d had to repeat himself. “It’s cold in here. Help me get them back to the fire.”
Xuan hefted the nearest vamp onto his shoulder and trudged back to the campsite. Without warning, the fire flared, courtesy of Enrique’s power. Xuan was used to it by now and didn’t react other than to lay his burden down close to the warmth, taking a moment to straighten the new vampire’s limbs, making him more comfortable.
Enrique laid his burden down also, but instead of making the unconscious vampire comfortable, he pulled a knife and nicked the newly-turned vampire’s neck, sliding a finger through the trickle of blood it produced. He brought the finger to his mouth and sucked, tasting.
“Weak,” he pronounced. “And we can’t stay here another night.”
Without warning, he slashed out with his knife, slicing the big artery in the vampire’s throat. Then switching the grip on his knife, he stabbed him in the heart as blood spurted from his neck in a gruesome fountain of red.
Xuan stared, not quite believing what he was seeing. This was a new level of brutality, even for Enrique. The young vampire needed only another’s night’s rest to thrive. They could have given him that. But it hadn’t been the boy’s slow recovery that influenced Enrique’s decision, it was the strength of his blood. Enrique wanted strong warriors, and this young vampire had apparently not suited.
Xuan placed a protective hand on the chest of the vampire at his side, even knowing that he couldn’t win against Enrique.
“This one’s strong. He’ll wake soon.”
“He’s mine,” Enrique reminded him.
“Of course,” Xuan agreed. “They’re all yours. I’ll go get our things from the cave.”
Enrique didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply hunkered down next to the sleeping vampire and waited for him to wake to the first night of his new life. The younger the vampire, the later he woke after sunset, but it wouldn’t be long now. And Enrique liked to be sure his was the first face the youngsters saw upon waking.
Xuan stood and stared at the avarice in Enrique’s expression as he studied his newest soldier and, next to him, the greasy pile of dust that only yesterday had been a healthy young human.
At that moment, Xuan made a decision. He walked back to the cave and gathered their gear, packing what he could into their saddlebags. And then, taking his own small pack in hand, he left the safety of the cave and the dubious companionship of Enrique, and he walked into the night.
Pénjamo, Guanahuato, Mexico, present day
XUAN FINISHED speaking, but still sat there, staring into the flames as he had during the telling of his tale. Lana started to ask a question, but Vincent spoke first.
“How do you know Raphael?” he asked. It was a natural enough question, but there was nothing natural about the way he asked it. Vincent’s voice was low and raw, each word precisely bitten off, as if he was suppressing some violent emotion. Even more telling were his eyes, which had taken on a copper glow that put the flames in the small fireplace to shame.
Lana studied him in concern, but he wasn’t looking at her. Vincent’s attention was fixed on Xuan, but Xuan wasn’t looking back. He was studying the fire intently, as if it held the secrets of the fucking universe.
“I met Raphael not long after I left Enrique, here in Mexico,” Xuan said finally, still refusing to look at Vincent. “Raphael never said why he was here, but looking back, I think he was trying to decide how far south he wanted to expand his territory. Enrique likes to pretend that Mexico has always been his, but it’s only his because Raphael didn’t want it.”
“Get to the point,” Vincent growled.
Lana turned her head sharply to stare at him. She’d been right. He was furious. Of course, he had a right to be, since he’d just discovered Enrique had been lying to him all this time about how his brother had died, and who had killed him. But there was more to it than that. Some deeper dimension to what Xuan had revealed, something she didn’t understand, maybe something she couldn’t understand. Something tied up with being a vampire.
But she understood this much. The key to it all was Raphael’s insistence that Vincent confront Xuan directly. Why would he do that? Why send them all the way down here just so Xuan could tell Vincent that it was Enrique who’d killed his brother? Why not simply tell Vincent that himself? A five-minute phone call would have done it. There was something more, some reason why Raphael wanted Vincent to meet Xuan Ignacio in person, something that was pushing Vincent right to the edge of violence.
“Raphael asked me about Enrique,” Xuan continued. “He was trying to understand what kind of man Enrique was, what kind of lord he’d be. So, I told Raphael that story, and I told him about you.”
Xuan risked a short glance in Vincent’s direction, but whatever he saw there didn’t encourage his gaze to linger. He quickly lowered his eyes again. “Raphael could have killed me then. He was certainly angry enough to do it after hearing what we’d done, because I was as guilty as Enrique. But he agreed to let me live on one condition—that if you ever showed up at my door, I would tell you the truth.”
Vincent jolted to his feet, fairly vibrating with anger. He stretched out his hand in Lana’s direction but he never took his eyes off Xuan Ignacio, as if he didn’t trust him.
Lana stood and slipped her fingers into Vincent’s. His grip tightened immediately, and he tugged her away from Xuan, putting himself between them.
“You have five days,” Vincent snarled, “to get out of Mexico. I don’t care where you go. But if you’re still here after five days, I’ll kill you.”
Finally, Xuan looked up. “Do you think you can take him?” he asked, his gaze suddenly sharp and penetrating.
Vincent’s reaction was immediate . . . and terrifying. He seemed to swell with rage, to grow even taller than he was, muscles straining beneath his T-shirt and at the seams of his black denims. Energy abruptly filled the small house, making the wooden beams creak overhead, sending the few pieces of furniture skating for the walls, dousing the candles and setting the flames in the fireplace to dancing wildly.