Vampire Vignette #18
Freedom
Malibu, CA, present day
CYN SAT IN HER usual spot, in the alcove off Raphael’s office, near the big fireplace. She was working on her laptop, as always these days. No more private investigator adventures for her. No more sneaking around spying on cheating spouses or tracking down runaway kids. No more meeting strange vampires in dodgy places. She’d have said she missed it, but life with Raphael lately had been filled with enough life-threatening adventures to satisfy even her inner adrenaline junkie. What she longed for lately wasn’t more adventure, it was less.
Which brought her back to the night’s task. She’d been hired by one of Raphael’s vampires in Arizona to track down a wayward bank account. She’d done this sort of thing before. Accounts got lost when a bank closed or was acquired by someone else, or when the funds were declared unclaimed and seized by the state. That last one was a typical government scam. But once the state had your money, it was nearly impossible to get it back. Most vampires knew how to avoid that in the modern era. There were certain banks that specialized in, shall we say, discreet, financial holdings. Most of those involved shady money, but they worked as well for vampires, shady or not.
Unfortunately, her Arizona vampire client was looking for a much older account, and, from what she’d found so far, he might be out of luck.
Bored with what was beginning to look like a fruitless search, she tuned in to the conversation in Raphael’s part of the office, which had been going on for some time. She’d been listening with half an ear, registering the voices and moods, without hearing the details. But now that she was paying attention, nothing about it surprised her. Lucas and Juro were arguing again. Sometimes, she thought those two took opposite sides of every issue just so they could torment each other.
As she listened, Raphael finally called an end to the debate and sent them away, probably to continue their disagreement in private. She put her laptop on the table when she heard Raphael’s chair push back, and looked up with a smile when he joined her, making room on the small couch. He sat next to her, pulling her against his side with a sigh. She raised her face for a kiss, which he delivered with his usual passionate thoroughness, sending ripples of desire over every inch of her body.
“Long night?” she asked.
“Something like that.”
“Do those two ever agree on anything?”
“Only when it matters. If they have the luxury of argument, they’ll do it every time.”
“Exactly. They work together like clockwork when they have to, so why all the bickering like two ten-year-olds the rest of the time?”
He kissed the side of her head. “Now, that, my Cyn, is a long story. It goes back to when we first met Juro and Ken’ichi, to when I made them Vampire.”
“Lucas was with you then?”
“Oh, yes.”
San Francisco, 1885
RAPHAEL STROLLED through the crowded wharf district, a path automatically clearing for him through the mass of humans clogging the streets of this busy seaport. Voices assailed him from all sides—people talking, arguing, selling, in any number of languages. Some of those conversations he understood because he spoke the language, others he got because human emotions were easy to read, and the specifics didn’t matter. He didn’t delve too deeply into any of it. He simply listened, letting the words flow through him as he skimmed for clues. Certain words triggered a closer scrutiny; the rest meant nothing.
Some might have assumed he was on the prowl for food or conquest. He wasn’t. He was looking for vampires. Not in the crowd around him. If a vampire was free and strong enough to be mingling with this crowd, then Raphael let him be, although he made the vampire aware of his presence and what it meant. Raphael was a vampire lord, and he’d chosen this as his territory. Not only San Francisco, but the entire western coast of the continent, as least as far north as the big island and inlet. Beyond that, the territory had been claimed by another vampire lord, a hedonist who seemed to care more for his pleasure than any growth of his territory. He’d been more than happy to cede the South to Raphael, and to Raphael’s child Lucas.
“I hate these crowds,” Lucas muttered, chasing away a would-be solicitor with a glare that included just enough power to make sure the man took the warning seriously. It wasn’t necessary. Lucas was a big, powerful man even without the use of his power, but the boy did love frightening the humans.
“These crowds provide cover for our existence,” Raphael reminded him in a mild voice. Lucas’s complaints didn’t bother him. He was accustomed to them by now, and, besides, it was only talk. When push came to shove, when true danger threatened, Lucas was as staunch a companion as any could hope for. And he took Raphael’s safety even more seriously than his own.
The latter wasn’t necessary, but Lucas had begun his life with Raphael as a protector of sorts. He’d been Raphael’s daylight servant, the one who ran the many errands necessary for a vampire to have a decent life in human society. And what other society was there? Vampires might be stronger, but humans were far more numerous and always would be. And that was a good thing, since they provided the only food that could sustain a vampire.
In any event, Lucas had protected and provided for Raphael and the few vampires he’d brought with him from Europe during the long ocean crossing and when they’d first arrived here. Raphael had turned him soon after. He was a powerful vampire now, soon to be lord over his own territory. But, if anything, the vampire/child bond only enhanced Lucas’s protective drive when it came to Raphael.
“Yeah, they feed us, but there’s so damn many of them. And they can turn on a moment’s notice. We’ve both seen it happen.”
“Not to us, fortunately,” Raphael murmured.
“Fortune has nothing to do with it. It’s brains and good planning.”
Raphael smiled, his attention sharpening when he caught the distinct voice of a carnival barker among the noise. He searched the crowd, a task made easier by his height, which was well above the average man’s, as was Lucas’s. “There,” he said, finding the barker on a street corner a block ahead.
Lucas’s gaze moved over the crowd, finding the man easily enough. “Yep.”
Raphael glanced at him. Lucas had taken easily to the slang of this new world, unlike Raphael, who hadn’t, and wasn’t inclined to try.
They changed their heading to pass close by the barker, who was promoting a circus, which, according to the man’s shouts, included a freak show. The makeshift podium he stood behind was plastered with images of the usual clowns and captive animals, but the man’s persistent shouts listed a “fanged demon” among the offered freaks. And that was what had brought Raphael to San Francisco. Every vampire in his new territory was his. From the strong ones living on their own to the truly powerful who had to be challenged and defeated before they’d accept Raphael’s rule, or leave the territory. Most chose to remain. It was in the nature of most vampires to prefer the protection of a vampire lord, and Raphael was powerful enough to bring the comfort of that association to even the strongest among them.
But it wasn’t the strong who worried him. It was the weak. Carnivals and circuses like this one preyed upon weak vampires, capturing them during the day, chaining them by night. Feeding them just enough blood to survive, but never enough to grow strong. These were Raphael’s people, just as much as the powerful vampires he had to defeat in order to claim them as his own. If anything, these weak ones needed his protection even more. He shared a small part of his enormous power with every vampire he claimed. It made the weaker ones stronger, strong enough to resist humans who would prey upon them, strong enough to live their lives without fear. Because they knew they could call on Raphael for protection and he’d always be there. It was comfort, but it was also strength.
But first, he had to find them, and then rescue them.
Raphael found the circus at the far, dark end of the wharf, in an area better known for warehouses than entertainment. It wasn’t the smallest circus he’d seen, but far from the largest, consisting of three rundown tents, with visible patches that had stitching on top of stitching, attesting to several layers of repair. Which was better than some so-called circuses, who didn’t bother to repair their tents at all. Still, these were worn and dirty, and didn’t say much for the financial success of their owner.
The tents weren’t large, with each appearing to showcase no more than three exhibits. One contained animals, with the poor creatures trapped in too-small cages. There was a big cat, pacing back and forth, with a look in its eye that didn’t promise good things for the human gawkers if it ever managed to escape. Raphael was tempted. He felt a certain kinship with the great beast. But there were women and children in the crowd, too. They’d be the first to die. And the cat itself would die soon after. Most of the men were armed in this town, as well as some of the women.
The second tent showcased a bearded woman and a man with a skin ailment, with a sign above him that read, “Alligator Man.” But it was the third tent that drew Raphael’s attention, and Lucas’s, too.
“Sire,” Lucas said quietly. They both stared at a poster outside the third tent that showed a man with red eyes and fangs. They started toward the tent, but slowed when it became obvious that something was wrong with the tent. One half of the structure was all but collapsed, with the thick ropes and heavy canvas lying in great folds that dipped to the ground.
Shouting drew them around the collapsed section to where a big man was shouting orders at workers they couldn’t yet see. He was sweating under the dim, yellow lights, despite the cool and wet night air, his skin and clothing as dirty as the canvas he was struggling with.
Raphael started to turn away, thinking this might make his task tonight easier. If the vampire was being kept in his daytime resting place because of the tent collapse, then Raphael could rescue him there, away from the crowds and his captors both. But a pained bellow had him turning back at the last minute. It had sounded like a beast rather than a man, angry and hurt both. He’d never seen an elephant in a circus this small, but that’s what the bellow had reminded him of—a wild animal kept captive and mistreated.
Curious, he touched Lucas’s arm to stop him from leaving. Walking carefully around the fallen section of the tent, avoiding the layers of heavy fabric, he stepped over the thick ropes that seemed to snake everywhere he walked. The human sighted him from the corner of his eye and turned.
“This tent isn’t open yet. Go back to the midway. There’s nothing for you to see here.” He waved a thick arm back toward the two functioning tents.
Raphael glanced at the man, but otherwise ignored him, continuing his circle around the tent until he came upon two huge men struggling to raise the tent with sheer, brute force. Their arms were looped with the thick ropes, their shoulders weighed down under the burden of a good third of the tent’s canvas. Adding to their burden were the iron collars around their necks, with heavy chains trailing down their backs, and more chains that shackled their feet, and linked their arms together, left to right, so that they couldn’t move except in concert with each other.
The sharp crack of a whip jarred Raphael’s senses. The thin strip of leather landed on only the right half of the duo, but the two of them winced in concert, as if they’d both been struck. Their handler shouted a wordless demand that they get moving, but Raphael could hear the almost sexual satisfaction the man took in inflicting pain. No doubt it was made even more satisfying because his victims were so much larger than he was, the kind of men who could easily have dominated the handler had they been free.
The situation struck a chord in Raphael. He hated slavery, hated to see any man brought so low. If the circus manager wanted to inflict pain, his victims should at least have a chance to fight back. He looked over at the two men, both Asian, but not Chinese as was typical of San Francisco. Japanese, maybe, Raphael thought. He had never visited that country, but he’d met quite a few of their warriors through his own pursuit of the martial arts. The two men were uniformly big and tall, their appearances so identical that they had to be twins. He couldn’t help but wonder how they’d fallen into the clutches of their current tormentor, who clearly wasn’t strong enough to have overpowered two such big men.
As he contemplated the situation, he glanced over at the men and found one of them staring directly at him, judging him. The big man’s gaze was full of rage as he stared at Raphael, probably wondering if he was yet another weak human come to buy muscle to be used and abused. Raphael met his gaze evenly, letting enough of his power fill his eyes to make it clear who was the alpha between them. The slave’s eyes widened slightly, but he continued to stare. In challenge this time, as if to demand Raphael prove his claim.
Raphael smiled slightly. “Be ready, Lucas,” he murmured.
Lucas gave him a surprised look, immediately followed by a wide grin. He didn’t question Raphael’s intentions. Lucas was always up for a good fight, and he was endlessly adaptable in a brawl.
“They look strong,” Raphael called out to the handler.
The man gave him a distracted look, and said only, “You’re still here?”
“How much?” Raphael persisted.
The handler made a disgusted noise. He stopped harassing the two big men and turned his full attention on Raphael. “Look, I told you, this tent isn’t open yet. Go back—”
“I don’t want to see your show,” Raphael said, letting disgust flavor his words. “I want to buy these two workers. How—”
The man barked out an unpleasant laugh. “Workers? Is that what you call them. They’re little more than beasts, barely human. And they’re not for sale.”
Raphael regarded the man, his eyes gone narrow with irritation. He hated to be interrupted, especially by the likes of this human. “Everything’s for sale, for the right price. So, what is it?”
“Look, even if they were for sale—which they’re not—you don’t have the gold. I’d have to hire twenty men, ten for each, to do the work of these two. Sorry,” he added, in a tone which said plainly that he wasn’t sorry at all.
Raphael gave that same small smile, then lifted his eyes to meet the big man’s. “I’ll be back,” he said clearly, knowing the man would understand his intent, if not the words. “Be ready.”
The owner scowled heavily, looking between the two of them. “Don’t go making trouble,” he shouted. “Get out of here, or I’ll call the police.”
It was a hollow threat. Circus people didn’t call upon the local police for anything short of murder, and maybe not even that, depending on the likely suspect. But Raphael gave the man a mocking bow and retraced his steps back to the dirt midway, standing to one side out of the general flow of the crowd.
“Well, you can’t say I didn’t warn him,” Raphael commented, once Lucas had joined him.
“What an asshole. What do you want those guys for anyway? They’re big and probably good to have around in a fight, but they’re both human.”
“For now.”
Lucas gave him a surprised look. “You’re going to turn them?”
“Maybe. If I’m to establish my territory, I’m going to need an army.”
“Well, okay, then. What’s the plan?”
“Later. First, we locate the vampire. If we’re going to liberate him, as well as those two, we’re going to need a better strategy than usual.”
“You mean the one where we break in, grab our guy, and kill anyone who gets in our way? That strategy?”
Raphael grinned. “Yes, that one. Come on,” he said, gesturing to the line of box wagons behind the tents. Some were painted with the name of the circus, others with pictures depicting the inhabitant’s special performance skill, and still others were nothing but boards slapped together with a roof on top. But all had a door and a semblance of privacy. This was where everyone associated with the circus lived. “The vampire exhibit was scheduled for the fallen tent,” he reminded Lucas. “Their captive will be back here somewhere, wherever it is that they keep him in daylight. Look for a wagon with covered windows and a locked door.”
“Do I have to?” Lucas was regarding the ramshackle wagons with distaste.
“It’s only looking, Lucas. I’ll do the dirty work.”
Lucas snorted his reaction. “As if I’d let you.” He studied the wagons from one end to the other, his eye taking in all the small details. Some who’d met Lucas dismissed him as a frivolous man. But they didn’t know him the way Raphael did. This oldest of his vampire children was completely serious when the occasion demanded it—a man of fierce concentration in a fight, and a deadly force on the battlefield. “That one,” Lucas said, pointing to a wagon about halfway left of the line’s midpoint. “Look at the construction. It’s a cage around a wooden box, with a heavy lock still on the door. Even weakened, they couldn’t count on the vampire not breaking himself out, so a wooden box would never do. But a cage wouldn’t protect him from sunlight. So, they did both. It took some effort, Sire. They’ve probably had him a long time.”
Raphael nodded slowly. He could sense the vampire’s life force inside the manmade prison of its captivity. It was weak. So weak. But he didn’t know if that was from malnutrition, or something worse. “All the more reason for us to set him free. Let’s take a closer look.”
They walked slowly along the circus wagon train. Raphael knew the moment the vampire became aware of his presence. Even shielding, as he was now, Raphael was a powerful force. The vampire would have sensed him long ago, but had been too afraid to reach out. Vampires were meant to live in groups, to gain protection and a kind of synergistic energy from each other. Even more importantly, weak vampires like this one needed to be bonded to a vampire lord like Raphael, a vampire strong enough to protect them, to give them the security they needed to live their lives without fear. This vampire didn’t seem to understand that. Had he lived alone his entire life? Had his Sire neglected to teach him even the most basic truths of being Vampire?
When they reached the wagon, Raphael put his hand to the lock. He paused long enough to send a wave of reassurance to the trembling vampire within, and then he simply ripped off the locking mechanism and opened the door.
The vampire recognized Raphael immediately as the powerful force he’d been sensing for the last hour or more. He cowered against the wagon wall, more terrified than comforted by Raphael’s presence. Thankfully, Lucas was shielding his own power, tamping it down to almost nothing, so that any vampire, like this one, who met him would assume he was ordinary, maybe one of Raphael’s warriors. Raphael was grateful for his Lucas’s foresight, because he didn’t think this terrified vampire would have survived the arrival of two powerful vampire lords at the same time.
Sending out waves of reassurance and safety, Raphael stepped up into the wagon. This wasn’t the first such captive vampire he’d encountered. Not even the tenth. He and Lucas had freed many such prisoners over the last year, in circuses and elsewhere. The key to a successful rescue was always the same—get in, get out, get gone. But there were some necessary parts to the plan that couldn’t be rushed.
Raphael needed to give the imprisoned vampire some of his blood, so that he’d have enough strength to participate in his rescue and to survive their escape. But before he did so, he needed to be sure the vampire was reliable, that he understood what was happening, and could control himself once he tasted the perfect ambrosia that was a powerful vampire lord’s blood. If not, if the vampire was insane or too damaged by either a long imprisonment or a cruel Sire, he could turn the energy of Raphael’s blood into the incredible strength of a madman. He could break free of his bonds only to wreak havoc among the humans, doing far more damage than good for the vampire community.
Vampires lived very much in the shadows of this new world. Most had learned by now that there was no need to drink their victims dry, that they could take what they needed and leave the donor alive, with no memory of the encounter, other than a bruised neck, which would heal too rapidly for anyone to make much of it. To be sure, there were vampires who still killed to survive, especially in crowded cities like San Francisco. If the vampire chose his victims well—prostitutes or sailors in port for only a day or two—and didn’t hit any one part of the city too often, the police would never bother to investigate. But a vampire who went mad and started tearing a city apart, killing at random . . . that would draw entirely too much attention.
Raphael was aware of the pressure they were under to grab the imprisoned vampire and escape quickly, but he still took the time to sit down and talk to him. He explained who he was, and told the captive of their plan to break him free, that they’d then leave town immediately, putting miles between them and San Francisco before the sun rose.
But the vampire shook his head. “I can’t go. I can’t leave without her.”
Raphael tilted his head, studying the vampire, easing into his thoughts so carefully that he never sensed the intrusion.
This is bad, he thought to himself. A complication they definitely didn’t need, but one he absolutely could not ignore. “A female,” he said.
The vampire, whose name, Raphael had discovered in his tour of the vampire’s thoughts, was Bennie, nodded his head. “She and I were turned by the same master, and then sold to Vernon. Our master told him how to keep me weak, and how to use Agnes for the sexual pleasure of a vampire’s bite.”
Raphael swallowed a growl, not wanting to frighten the young vampire with the raw emotion of his reaction to this bit of news. When this was over, when Bennie and Agnes were both safe with the rest of his vampires, he was going to learn everything they knew about this master vampire who sired vampires only to sell them. And then, he’d find him and kill him slowly.
But right now, he and Lucas needed to adapt their rescue plan even further. First there were the two Asian humans to free, and now a second vampire—a female, who was being raped repeatedly.
He managed to push back his rage enough to ask, “Where is she kept?”
“Vernon keeps her close and never lets her out. He lets her bite him for the sexual effect, but she never manages more than a sip of his blood in return. It’s not enough for her. She’s young and not strong, and he keeps her chained even when he rapes her.”
“Where?”
“In his wagon, second one from the lead. It has a blue door. Paint’s faded, but you can still see the color.” The vampire’s voice was fading, his energy flagging. He would need blood soon, if they were going to escape tonight. But Raphael had one more question first.
“Vernon,” Raphael repeated. “Is he a big man? Long, black hair, dusky skin?”
“What you can see beneath the dirt and sweat, yes. The man never bathes that I can tell.”
Raphael nodded at this confirmation. Vernon was the human who’d been whipping the two slaves earlier. Raphael was going to take great pleasure in ending the man’s life tonight.
Bennie’s breath ran out in a long exhale and he slumped against the wall, his chained arms falling limply between his thighs. What energy he’d retained had been exhausted. Raphael glanced back and gave Lucas a short nod, then rolled up the sleeve of his left arm.
“My name is Raphael,” he told Bennie, speaking rapidly. “I’ve claimed everything from the mountains to the ocean as my own, my territory. Any vampire who lives here, whether a part of my personal estate or not, owes fealty to me. Do you understand?”
Bennie nodded. “My master dreamed of building an empire of his own. I didn’t understand what he was talking about, but now, meeting you, I know he could never have achieved his dream.”
“Your master was a fool, and if he still lives within my territory, his life will be short. But that’s no matter for tonight. You need to be stronger if we’re to escape safely. You’re going to drink from my blood and swear an oath of loyalty to me as your lord. Once we’re safely away, you may choose to leave my territory and live on your own. That will be your decision to make. But for now, you will swear an oath, or you will be left behind. Do you understand?”
“I do. What of Agnes?”
“The same will hold for Agnes, but I will not leave her behind, no matter what. I’ll see her safely away from this place and set her free, if that’s her wish.”
“Thank you,” Bennie whispered, then slid to his knees. “I’ve never done this. I don’t know what words to say.”
“I do,” Raphael said, then pulled a small, sharp knife from his pocket and cut a four-inch slice in his forearm, starting at his wrist and cutting toward his elbow. “Do you come to me of your own free will and desire, Bennie?”
Bennie stared at the blood gushing from his wrist, and then up to meet Raphael’s eyes in shock. “Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, I do.”
“Is this what you truly desire?”
Bennie swallowed hard, his mouth beginning to water as the rich scent of Raphael’s blood wafted up to fill his senses. “Oh, yes,” he croaked.
Raphael lowered his bleeding arm to Bennie’s mouth. “Then drink, Bennie, and be mine.”
“SIRE.” RAPHAEL glanced over as Lucas joined him on the sofa of their hotel room. Bennie was asleep in the bedroom, recovering from the effects of Raphael’s blood. The vampire was young enough that he might not wake until the next night, so they’d have to leave him sleeping while they completed the next stage of their rescue.
“You want to know what the plan is,” Raphael said.
Lucas nodded. “We can get away with letting the boy sleep it off. The three of us could easily slip out of town tomorrow night. But I know you. You won’t leave the female or the two slaves. So, what’s the plan?”
Raphael smiled slightly. “We’re going to need wagons.”
Lucas scowled. “That’s it? That’s your plan? Wagons?”
“Don’t be obtuse, Lucas. It doesn’t become you.”
He sighed heavily. “All right, I get it. We’re going to need wagons because the female and even the boy in there won’t be strong enough to travel fast and light. And your two giants will need bigger horses than any we have with us. They’ll need a wagon until we gain enough distance from the city. We’re going to be slow, Sire. Too slow.”
“And yet, we’re going to do it. We can use the circus’s own wagons.”
“Not exactly discreet, from what I saw of them.”
“We’ll choose the best of the lot and make do. We can always cover the sides with cloth. Besides, it shouldn’t be necessary for anything more than the first week. We can stop in Sacramento and make the necessary changes. We’ll be traveling fast and likely won’t find any place to rest, other than the wagons. They’ll come in handy for all of us.”
Lucas made a face. “Sounds lovely. Let’s hope your giants are reliable enough to guard our daylight sleep. Who’s to say they won’t kill us all and make off with the wagons?”
Raphael gave him a cold look. “I do. And don’t call them that. They’re not giants. They’re men.”
“All right, all right.” He raised both hands, palm out in surrender. “I’m just being thorough.”
“We have to leave tonight.”
Lucas’s eyes widened. “Tonight? How—”
“We’ll go after Agnes first. She’s in Vernon’s wagon. We’ll take that and one other.”
“And the boy?”
Raphael had to smile at Lucas’s continued reference to Bennie as “the boy.” Outwardly, they were about the same age, but outward appearances meant little to a vampire. Lucas was a hundred years old, kept young by Raphael’s blood while they were still in Europe, and then made vampire once they arrived in this country.
“Bennie will sleep until I want him to wake. He’ll be perfectly safe here for the short time we’ll be gone. We’ll pick him up on our way out of town.”
Lucas shrugged. “When do we leave?”
“Now, while the circus is still crowded with people.”
THE CIRCUS WAS in full swing when they returned. It was a Saturday night, and families swelled the ranks of those eager to lose money on the tawdry midway and gawk at the freaks. All the better, Raphael thought. The high voices and piercing shrieks of the children on top of the tinny music and constant patter of the barkers would provide better cover for their subterfuge.
They made their way through the crowds, moving steadily, but with an unhurried pace, not drawing anyone’s attention. Either one of them could have used their power to push away attention, and ease their way through. But it wasn’t necessary, and not knowing what the night would bring, they chose to conserve their strength.
The circus wasn’t large. Even at their relaxed pace, it was less than half an hour before they’d made their way around the tents to the encampment behind it. To one side were the stables, where the unfortunate caged animals were kept when not on display. With the circus in full swing—apart from the still-collapsed third tent—the stables held only horses.
Lucas,” Raphael said, “you get the horses. I’ll get the girl. We’ll take whatever wagon she’s in, and one other.”
“We don’t know her situation. I should go with you.”
“It’s one female. I’ll be perfectly safe.”
Lucas grunted, not convinced. His instincts to protect Raphael were running hot in the face of the evening’s challenges and uncertainties, including two very large humans, whom Raphael seemed determined to rescue, even though they were completely unknown and unpredictable.
“Lucas, go.”
Lucas’s lips flattened unhappily, but he nodded. “I’ll be quick,” he said and took off. Vampire speed put an entirely different spin on “quick.”
Raphael didn’t bother to track Lucas, who was more than capable of taking care of himself. Instead, feeling the pressure of time, he walked along the long line of wagons, looking for one with a blue door, based on Bennie’s description. As he drew closer, however, he no longer needed the help. He could sense the female vampire, could hear her weak heartbeat, her faint breaths, even though it was nighttime. He strode up to the wagon, snapped the lock on the door, and climbed inside. Bennie had been right. The man was a pig. But this wagon was much bigger than the one where Bennie had been held captive, with a private sleeping compartment in the front half.
Raphael made his way through the mess to a narrow door. The female was inside. He opened the door carefully. A vampire on the edge of starvation, as this one was, could be amazingly violent and much stronger than one might expect. Stronger even than they’d been before they’d been starved. The drive to survive was a powerful thing among vampires.
The female didn’t attack, however. She lay on the bed, pale and weak, her breath rattling in her chest. A thick chain led from a metal band around her ankle and disappeared into the piles of clothing and junk that littered the floor. The chain probably wasn’t necessary, Raphael considered. She was too weak to move.
He sat on the bed next to her, depressing the thin mattress and making her roll slightly in his direction. That elicited a reaction from her. Her eyes opened in a glare and her fangs slid from her gums to slice into parched lips. Seeing him instead of her tormentor, her pale eyes stared in confusion, and she blinked slowly, as if it was a great effort.
“What’s your name, child?” he asked.
Her mouth opened and closed, then opened again as her tongue came out to wet her lips. “Agnes,” she whispered. Her eyelids drifted downward, as if even that exhausted her.
“Agnes, I’m Raphael.” Scooting closer, he gathered her into his arms, ignoring her weak protests. Holding her there, he rolled back his sleeve and lifted his wrist to his mouth, not bothering with the knife as he used his fangs to rip open a vein. Cupping her head in his other hand, he held his bloody wrist to her mouth, and said, “Drink.”
It took far longer than it should have, but eventually her nostrils flared and her eyes fluttered open again. She inhaled more deeply, then gave a tentative, tasting lick. A shudder rolled through her entire body, then she latched onto his wrist with a pained groan and sucked. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she drank greedily of his blood, her little fangs digging into his flesh like barbs, holding him in place. Or trying to. She would have to drink again tomorrow or the next day, when they were free of this place and could make time for her to swear fealty to him. But for now, she was starving. Raphael simply let her feed, until the sucking began to slow, and her efforts were more about comfort than sustenance. He pulled his wrist away gently. Licking his own wounds closed, he rolled his shirtsleeve down and shoved his coat sleeve over it. There wasn’t a single piece of fabric in this wagon that he’d touch, much less use to bind his bloody wrist.
Agnes cuddled close to his chest, until she abruptly stiffened and her eyes popped open, alert and aware. She sat up in alarm. “Who are you?”
“I’m Raphael. We’re going to get you out of here.”
“We? Who are you? Not your name, but who?”
“I am lord over this territory, which makes you mine to protect.”
“I’m no one’s—”
“Don’t be foolish, Agnes. You need protection, and I’ve no need to compel women to my bed.”
She blushed at being confronted with her own accusations. “I apologize. It’s only that—”
“I know. There’s no need to explain. But time is short. If you’re strong enough, we’ll be on our way.”
“I’d crawl on my knees to escape this place.” She sat up and started to swing her legs over the side of the sleeping platform, but the chain stopped her. She looked up at him in dismay. “The chain. I can’t break it, I’ve tried—” Her voice dried up as Raphael reached down and twisted off the link that held the chain to the heavy anklet on her foot. She stared for a moment, then threw her leg over the side and stood. “I’m ready.”
Raphael went first, as they threaded their way through Vernon’s junk and opened the door to the outside. Lucas was already there, harnessing a pair of horses to the front of the wagon. He glanced up at Agnes, who was using Raphael as a shield against this new stranger.
“Agnes, this is Lucas,” Raphael said, crossing over to help Lucas with the harness.
Lucas gave her one of his most charming grins. “Agnes,” he said smoothly.
She blushed and ducked her head, giving Raphael a pleading look from beneath her lashes.
“Lucas is mine,” Raphael said. “You can trust him.” He buckled a final strap, and then said, “We’re taking this wagon—”
She gasped. “Vernon will—”
“Vernon no longer matters,” Raphael interrupted firmly. “We’re taking his wagon, and we need one more. Which one is best?”
Agnes looked up and down the line, shaking her head. “I don’t know. He never let me out. You should ask—” She gasped again, her face going even paler. “Bennie! Dear God, I forgot all about him. You must—”
“We already got Bennie,” Lucas said rather sharply. “He didn’t forget you. He refused to leave town without you.”
Agnes heard the condemnation in Lucas’s voice. Tears filled her eyes as she searched the shadows around the wagons. “Is he here?”
Raphael gave Lucas a chiding look. Agnes had been through a lot. It wasn’t a surprise that she’d forgotten Bennie for a time. “He’s waiting for us at the hotel. I wanted him to rest. The next few nights will be exhausting, and, like you, Bennie had been starved and mistreated.”
She laughed bitterly. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
Raphael regarded her somberly. “I know what Vernon did to you, Agnes. I don’t pretend otherwise. But I can’t make it go away. All I can do is give you a new future.” He waited until she met his gaze. “And make sure it never happens again.”
Her eyes widened. “How will you—”
“By killing Vernon and the master who sold you to him.”
“Can you do that?” she breathed.
Lucas gave a barking laugh. “Open your mind, sweetheart. He can do that and more.”
Agnes shot him a puzzled glance and then turned back to Raphael. Her face scrunched into a frown of concentration a moment before she fell to her knees. “My lord,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I had no—”
“Get up, Agnes,” Raphael muttered, grasping the girl’s arm. He gave Lucas a killing stare, but the ass only grinned back at him.
“I’m sorry. You told me your name, but I was so confused, and—”
“Agnes,” he said sharply. “We don’t have time for this. I need you to focus.”
“But I don’t know which wagon—”
“Forget it,” Lucas said impatiently. “I’m taking the cook’s wagon. It’s sturdy, and it has food, which your new fighters are going to need.”
“Fighters?” she said weakly.
Raphael raised his eyes to heaven, wondering how he was going to survive the next week. “Don’t worry yourself. Do you want to ride inside the wagon or on the seat with Lucas?”
Her wide-eyed gaze shifted from Lucas to the narrow wooden seat. He could see her weighing the perils between sitting next to Lucas or returning to the terror of her confinement.
“Lucas is perfectly safe,” he assured her gently. “He will defend you with his life.”
Lucas didn’t say anything for a change. Because what Raphael said was true. Lucas might have a wicked tongue, but he was a fierce defender of those who were weaker than he was.
“I’ll ride outside then,” she said with a small smile in Lucas’s direction.
Raphael gave a little shake of his head. By sunrise, Lucas would have her utterly charmed. Then again, after however many months she’d suffered Vernon’s abuse, a little charm could be a good thing.
“Good,” he said briskly, then turned to Lucas. “You and Agnes go by the hotel and pick up Bennie. I’ll get the others and—”
“What? I am not letting you—”
“You forget yourself, Lucas,” Raphael said sharply. “I don’t need your assistance, and I certainly don’t require your permission.”
“Damn it, I know that. But it’s not safe for you—”
“Lucas.” Raphael didn’t raise his voice, but he put all the power of his vampire blood in that one word. Power that eclipsed Lucas’s considerable strength. Raphael was still growing, the vampire blood in his veins still working on his mind and body, working on the magic that made him Vampire. But his power already exceeded that of not only Lucas, but every other vampire he’d ever encountered.
Lucas stared at him unhappily. He acknowledged Raphael’s greater power and was loyal beyond question. But he was also Raphael’s vampire child, and that bond drove him to pledge his life to Raphael’s safety. Whether Raphael needed it or not.
“I’ll be right behind you,” he said quietly to Lucas. “By the time you reach the hotel and get Bennie up and into the wagon, we’ll be on the road. We’ll meet you near the stables on the southern edge of town. You remember the one.”
Lucas regarded him for a long moment, then sighed and said, “I remember.”
Raphael clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on. Help me harness the horses to the cook’s wagon before it’s too late.”
RAPHAEL LOOPED the reins around the wooden brake, and then, with a final pat for the lead horse, walked back toward the dwindling noise of the circus. They’d had a late start of it, what with rescuing Bennie first. And their initial plan for the evening had never involved anyone else. But in Raphael’s life, one’s plans rarely had anything to do with outcomes, so he’d learned to adapt. Tonight, that meant rescuing four people instead of one, which had taken time. Something they didn’t have in abundance.
The crowds were noticeably thinner as he made his way toward the third tent, operating on instinct. Ordinarily, he imagined Vernon would be leading the show in one of the larger tents, calling reluctant patrons to come stare at the freaks. But when they’d walked through earlier, Raphael had seen that the third tent was still quiet and forlorn, still listing heavily to one side. Logic said Vernon was losing money with every hour the tent remained dark. Instinct told him Vernon would work his slaves to death if that’s what it took to get it re-opened.
He heard Vernon’s voice before he circled the tent and found him sitting in a folding chair, directing the two slaves and mopping his brow, as if he was the one doing all the work.
“Not that way, you fool,” he bellowed. He waved an arm, but didn’t raise the whip which lay on the ground next to him.
“Too tired to whip your own slaves, Vernon?” Raphael asked in his silkiest voice.
The man’s head snapped around, the chair falling over behind him as he struggled to stand. “What the hell do you want?” he demanded. “I told you to leave. I won’t warn you again.” Striding over to where the two huge men were working to erect the tent, he picked up the heavy chain that linked to the iron collar around the neck of the one who’d challenged Raphael earlier. Vernon gave the chain a yank to get the slave’s attention, which drew the other one along as well, since the two were linked. “You,” he yelled, addressing the first slave. “Get rid of this troublemaker. Toss him in the bay.”
The big slave stared at Vernon for a moment, as if contemplating his death, and then swung his gaze over to Raphael, who said, “I did say I’d be back.”
Vernon stared back and forth between them, his chest heaving with growing outrage, hands still fisted around the thick chain. Without warning, he dropped the chain, pulled a weapon, and fired at Raphael.
After that, two things happened at the same time. One of the slaves gave a huge bellow and grabbed Vernon. And Raphael felt an agonizing pain in his chest, the kind of pain he hadn’t felt since he’d been turned over four hundred years ago, when he’d suffered through his rebirth as a vampire, alone and ignorant. He pressed a hand to his chest and it came away wet. He looked down and stared. Blood. Too much blood.
He collapsed to his knees, feeling the magic that ran through his veins trying to patch him back together, but he’d spent so much of his own blood in the last few hours—healing first Bennie and then Agnes—that his body was struggling to recover. For the first time since that long-ago turning, he realized with shocking clarity, he was in danger of dying.
Raphael gritted his teeth and forced himself to concentrate. He hadn’t survived a sadistic father, a murderous bitch of a mistress, and three thousand hellish miles at sea only to die on a dirty pier in San Francisco.
Turning his magic inward, he began repairing the worst of the damage. If he could restore others, he could damn well mend himself. At least well enough to hold until their rendezvous with Lucas, who could give him an infusion of much-needed power. He was so intent on his work that he wasn’t aware of the two slaves or Vernon, until he heard the handler yelling for help at the top of his lungs.
Acting on instinct, Raphael reached out and wrapped a narrow ribbon of power around Vernon’s heart. Following the sounds of the man’s pained gasps, he turned slowly and found one of the slaves, the quiet one who never spoke, gripping both of Vernon’s arms behind his back, holding them both in one big hand. It looked painful. And from the constant wails of the circus man, it was.
“Please,” Vernon rasped, staring at Raphael. “Help me.”
Raphael watched him coldly. He still held the man’s heart in a delicate grip. A single twitch of his finger, the slightest flare of his power, and the organ would be nothing but ash. It would be totally bloodless. No need to open the man’s chest. But he wanted him to suffer, wanted him to feel a small fraction of the pain he’d no doubt inflicted on others, including the two big men who were looking on with identical expressions of cool curiosity.
Raphael looked from one identical face to the other. “His life belongs to you, not me. I will take it,” he continued, ignoring Vernon’s renewed wails, “if that’s your wish.”
The men remained silent, staring at each other. If they’d been vampires, Raphael would have assumed some telepathic communication. But they were fully human. He wondered if their twin birth had gifted them with some other means of communication, or if they’d simply spent so much of their lives together that words were no longer necessary.
The one in front of Vernon, the same one who’d eyed Raphael so boldly, picked up the revolver that their tormentor had shot Raphael with and studied it carefully, turning it this way and that, pointing it in the distance and lining up its sights. When he swung around and pointed the gun at Vernon, the man’s squeals became non-stop, as he twisted and fought the hold on his arms, causing himself more pain with nothing to show for it. The silent twin behind him barely seemed to notice the man’s thrashing attempts at escape.
“If I shoot him, the police might investigate,” the twin holding the gun said.
Raphael studied him. “You speak English,” he said, not commenting on the fact that these were the first words he’d ever heard from either of them.
“Enough,” the twin said. He seemed to be the spokesman for the pair.
“I can make his death appear as though his heart failed.”
“Will he suffer?”
Raphael smiled slowly. “Oh, yes.”
The twin glanced at his brother, then nodded. “Then do it. We would not have the rest of our lives haunted by those looking for answers to his death.”
Raphael turned to Vernon and let his fangs slide out to slowly fill his smile. Power struck silver in his black gaze, as the human babbled in terror.
“Don’t let him touch me. He’s a monster. He’s not even human. Look at him!” he shrieked, as the stench of urine filled the air.
Raphael lifted his hand and crooked one finger, sliding a barbed hook of power into the man’s heart and giving it a slow tug, this way and that. Vernon screamed while his heart was slowly ripped into pieces, as Raphael held onto his life force, refusing to let him die until the organ was no more than shredded bloody flesh and Vernon could do nothing but keen mindlessly as he suffered.
Raphael would have made it last longer. Days would have been the appropriate sentence for the man’s crimes. But the night was moving on, and Lucas would be growing impatient. If Raphael didn’t show up soon, Lucas would come looking for him.
He sighed, feeling more tired than he had in years. Perhaps he’d grown complacent about his own immortality. It was different now. Guns permitted an enemy to kill from a distance, and even the most powerful vampire could die if a bullet shredded his heart.
Forcing himself to his feet, he looked at the two men. “You can’t stay here,” he cautioned. “You should come with me, at least until we’re away from this city.”
The spokesman tilted his head curiously. “Are you vampire?”
Raphael concealed his surprise. Few humans knew what a vampire was, especially in this new world. “I am,” he agreed. “But I don’t feed on the unwilling, if that’s your concern.”
The big man nodded, then lifted the heavy chain that still bound him to his brother. He didn’t bother noting the shackles on his ankles and neck. “We’ll have to get rid of these.”
Raphael gestured at the dead man. “Do you know where he carries the key?”
“He doesn’t. They’re in his wagon. He was too afraid we’d take it from him if he kept it with him.”
Raphael considered that. Vernon’s wagon was already outside the city, with Lucas and the others. “Was it the wagon with a blue door?” he asked, wanting to be sure.
The big man shrugged. “We’ve never even seen his wagon. My brother and I slept with the beasts.”
Raphael’s lip curled in disgust. He should have made the man suffer more. “I don’t need any key,” he muttered abruptly. Walking over, he snapped the chain between the two brothers, then turned to the talkative one. “The collar will have to stay for now. I don’t want to hurt you.” Going down to one knee, he reached for the chain between the man’s ankles, but the large man stepped back with a grunted protest.
“Your clothes! It’s filthy here, sir. We can wait—”
“The clothes are replaceable, and already covered in blood. And, no, you cannot wait even one more hour.” Raphael snapped the chains close to the heavy metal anklets, then reached for the man’s brother and did the same. He stood and looked up to meet the man’s eyes, which was something he rarely had to do. Raphael was well over six feet, very tall for a man in his time and still now. But the former slave was taller than he was by several inches. “What’s your name?” he asked.
The big man blinked, as if no one had asked him that simple question in a very long time. “Juro,” he said finally. “And my brother is Ken’ichi.”
Raphael tilted his head curiously. “Japanese,” he identified. “Does your brother speak?” He’d known mutes before, men of average or better intellect who, for one reason or another, couldn’t speak out loud.
Juro nodded. “He talks when there’s something worth saying.”
“You’re twins?”
He nodded again.
“Your English is quite good.”
“I’m a good listener.”
Raphael smiled. “Are you coming with me?”
“We owe you our lives.”
“That’s not what I asked, and there is no debt, regardless. If you come with me, I can promise you a better life and honest work as free men.”
Juro studied him for a long moment, then glanced at his brother and back again. “You’re more than you seem, and I’m a curious man. We’ll go with you, at least until we are, all of us, safe.”
“Fair enough. Is there anything you need from your quarters, anything you want to bring with you?”
Juro shook his head. “We have nothing.”
He said it with such finality that Raphael knew he meant it literally. They owned nothing. “All right. There’s a wagon harnessed and waiting for us. The cook’s wagon, I’m told. We should go before someone notices.”
“Stealing wagons?” Juro observed as they started walking. “That doesn’t seem very noble.”
Raphael snorted. “Whoever said I was noble?”
Juro stared. “Your clothes, your speech . . .”
“A clever disguise. Can you drive the horses?”
“Ken’ichi can. He has a way with animals.”
“Good. You and I will ride in the back. The others are waiting for us at the southern edge of the city. There’s a stable, first left off the main road, once—”
“The horses will lead the way,” Ken’ichi interrupted quietly, speaking for the first time. “They’ll sense the others and hurry to join them.”
Raphael studied him a moment. He wasn’t accustomed to being interrupted. But then he shrugged. “Let’s hope they all get along, then. We’ve a long journey ahead of us.”
JURO SAT IN THE back of the wagon, watching the stranger, the vampire, who’d rescued him and his brother. The man—for vampire or not, he was clearly also a man—certainly had an air of authority about him. He’d seen the way the other man, probably also a vampire, had deferred to this one, though there’d been a good measure of respect and affection mixed in there, too. The vampire—Raphael, he’d said his name was—leaned against the side wall of the closed wagon, his eyes closed, and with no sign of the fangs he’d displayed with great effect to Vernon. It made sense that the fangs could be retracted into the gums. How else could they hide among regular humans? What surprised Juro the most was that, despite his terrible injuries and the obvious weakness that resulted, Raphael hadn’t consumed any blood. He’d killed Vernon, but he’d never bitten him. The actual killing was another mystery for Juro to solve. Raphael had killed the brutal human without ever touching him. Magic. It had to be.
Juro believed in magic. His people in Japan were ardent believers in the existence of demons and ghosts, and other similar spirits. Vampires fell nicely into that belief system. In Japanese lore, demons were creatures who wandered between life and death, and who possessed the power to affect the natural world. Some were evil, some good.
Juro considered himself a good judge of men. He’d seen a lot during his years as a slave. Men tended to forget he and his brother were there, or, at least, to forget they were human. Vernon’s so-called business associates ignored them as one would a cow or horse. That meant Juro had seen the darkest nature of these men, and, sometimes, the virtuous nature of others. For eight years, he and Ken’ichi had watched and learned, and Juro believed, to the depths of his soul, that this Raphael was a good man. But a good man who was capable of terrible cruelty when it served him.
“It’s not much farther,” Raphael said, surprising Juro. He’d thought the man asleep.
“I’m fine,” Juro replied, looking around the bare walls of the wagon. They’d stripped the interior of the cook’s equipment and personal belongings, until there was nothing left but a wooden box with deep benches on both sides. And they’d left the narrow door open between the compartments, so they could hear Ken’ichi if he called. “This is far better than our previous accommodations,” Juro added.
Raphael’s eyes opened, and they seemed to glow, as if they were lined with silver. “How long?” he asked, pinning Juro with those strange eyes.
Juro didn’t even consider lying, or pretending not to understand the question. He owed Raphael too much to disrespect him with games. “Eight years,” he said, keeping his voice flat and emotionless.
Raphael studied him a moment longer. “How? You and your brother are big, strong men. How did a worm like Vernon manage to capture and keep you?”
Juro smiled bitterly. “We weren’t captured, we volunteered. We came to this country as children, with our parents. They worked hard to build a new life here, but the money was never enough. So, Ken’ichi and I worked, too. In the fields at first, but we grew too fast and too big. Our bodies were no longer suited for that work. We were on our way to a lumber mill when a man from the circus saw us walking on the road.”
“Vernon?”
“No, he came later. This man dressed like a gentleman, a man of means. He claimed to own a large circus that traveled from one coast to the next, performing in all the big cities to huge crowds. He told us people would pay to see us demonstrate how strong we were. He made much of the fact that we were twins, and said it would only bring in more money.” Juro shook his head, remembering. “Ken’ichi and I dreamed of sending money back to our parents, rescuing them from a life of backbreaking work. We saw ourselves in fine clothes, traveling the continent, seeing all the marvels this new world had to offer.” He fell silent.
“What happened?” Raphael asked finally.
“We were idiots. People paid to see us, but we didn’t see any of that money. We were chained like animals and treated the same way. When our benefactor grew tired of traveling and retired to his fine life, the circus was broken up and the pieces sold, including us. But you heard that part from Vernon. Our price was low, because the cost of keeping us was too high. We ate as much as the bears and elephants, but weren’t as popular with the crowds.”
Raphael’s attention shifted without warning, his expression intent and focused somewhere that Juro couldn’t see. A moment later, the wagon jolted to a stop, but the vampire was already on his feet and out the door. Juro followed, but the moment his feet hit the ground, he felt something slam into his chest. He stumbled back, thinking he’d been shot, but there was nothing.
“Where the hell were you when he was being attacked? Hiding behind your fucking circus tent?” The other man—the one who’d been with Raphael earlier—practically flew through the air as he jumped off his horse and strode up to Juro, his eyes giving off golden sparks on the unlit road.
Vampire. Juro was sure of it. But vampire or not, he didn’t get to call Juro a coward. Juro lowered his head and glared through half-lidded eyes. He’d had years of learning to control his anger, years when he’d been chained like an animal and beaten if he fought back. But he wasn’t an animal, and he wasn’t chained anymore. He didn’t care what vampire strength this bastard had. Juro had size on his side.
But Raphael was holding out a hand, silently asking him to wait. And because it was Raphael asking, Juro waited.
“Lucas,” Raphael said quietly. “I’m fine.”
The two vampires were both big men by most standards. Not compared to Juro and his brother, but they were larger than most. They stood only inches apart, and there was so much emotion between them. Lucas was studying every bit of Raphael, his face contorted with worry, while Raphael seemed to be trying to evoke calm, to reassure Lucas that he truly was well.
“But you weren’t,” the vampire Lucas insisted. “I felt it, Sire. I felt the bullet nick your heart. You nearly died, because you’d given your blood to him.” He spat the last word, glaring his condemnation at Juro.
“But I didn’t die. And it wasn’t Juro’s fault—he took none of my blood. It was what I gave to Bennie and Agnes that left me vulnerable—especially Agnes. She was weakened to the point of death when we found her. I was foolish not to have fed well before we began this venture.”
Lucas didn’t stop staring at Juro over Raphael’s shoulder, his animosity and distrust written on both his face and his body. Had Raphael not been there, the vampire would have happily torn Juro apart. Or, at least, he would have tried.
“Lucas,” Raphael said, demanding his attention. “Where are Bennie and Agnes?”
“They’re with the wagon. Bennie’s feeling great after his nap. He’s keeping an eye on Agnes.”
“How far?”
“A mile to the turn-off, another half mile to the stable.”
“We should go. We need to be away from here before dawn. And there’s the matter of sleeping arrangements.”
“You’re going to trust him?” Lucas growled.
Raphael’s posture change was subtle, but the night around them suddenly grew still. His next words were quiet, but filled with a menace that seemed to come from some inner well of power.
“Are you doubting my judgment?” he asked Lucas.
“Sire, no!” The other vampire appeared honestly distraught at the accusation. “It’s just . . . you nearly died,” he added softly. “And I wasn’t there.”
Raphael gripped his shoulder. “You were close. And you’d never have let me die, Lucas.”
Lucas nodded wordlessly. “Not without taking me with you,” he whispered.
“Not tonight,” Raphael said, with a final shoulder squeeze. “Come. You can lead us to the stable.”
Lucas turned for his horse, but not before he’d given Juro one last distrustful glare.
“That one doesn’t trust me,” Juro commented to Raphael, once they were back in the wagon and following Lucas to the stable.
“Lucas has good reasons for his distrust of others.”
“We all do,” Juro responded.
Raphael tilted his head slightly, acknowledging the point, and remained silent for the rest of their ride. But as the wagon jolted to a stop at the stable, he stood and looked down at Juro. “We’ll leave here tonight, and travel together for a time. It’s best for all of us to travel some distance from this city as quickly as possible. But after that, you and Ken’ichi will have a decision to make. Think about what you really want, and let me know what you decide.”
Juro stood. He didn’t like crouching at another man’s feet, even if that man was a vampire. “And if we decide we want to go our own way?” he demanded.
Raphael gave a small smile. “I am not a circus master, Juro. If your path is different than mine, then I will see you safely on your way. I have no need for animals and no stomach for slaves. What I do need are strong, loyal men who will fight to protect what we build together.” He opened the wagon door to the outside. “Talk to your brother. It will take us two weeks or more to reach safety. I’ll want your answer then.” He took the first step down from the wagon, but Juro’s voice called him back.
“Will we be like you? Will we be vampires?”
Raphael laughed. “You’ll be vampires, if you wish. But probably not like me.”
Juro scowled at the empty doorway, wondering what the hell that meant. He was still standing there when Ken’ichi rounded the back of the wagon.
“Stupid vampire talks in riddles,” Juro growled.
His brother tipped his head, studying him, then said, “They need us, Juro.”
He sighed. “Yeah, I know. Let’s see what this stable offers by way of supplies. I suspect we’ll be driving through the night from now on.”
THEY KEPT THE wagons even though they were slow. But they were a safe place for the vampires to rest during the day, and finding horses big enough to carry Juro and Ken’ichi wasn’t easy. Once they returned home to the Malibu coast, they could search out appropriate mounts for the two, but for the moment, their focus was on leaving San Francisco far behind as quickly as possible. There was also no desire to call attention to the brothers, whose size and identical appearance made them instantly notable.
So, they traveled by night, with Raphael, Lucas, and Bennie riding separately, while Juro and Ken’ichi drove the wagons, and Agnes rode along with whichever one struck her fancy on a given night. There were enough big and small towns along the way that the vampires had no trouble finding blood donors. Raphael had made it clear to Bennie and Agnes that they were to take what they needed and no more, and that the donors were to be left healthy and happy, but without any memory of the encounter. The last thing he needed, as he forged the beginnings of his sprawling territory, was a mob of terrified humans knocking on his door, or far worse, burning his house down. He had rules for his vampires, and any who disobeyed were eliminated. There was no room for fools.
Raphael maneuvered his horse up next to Lucas’s as they neared their familiar stretch of coastline at last. He could feel the difference in the air, the moisture and the salty brine scent. It drew him like the sweetest siren song.
“Nearly there, Sire,” Lucas said, glancing over as they drew abreast.
“Home,” Raphael agreed. He surprised even himself sometimes with the comfort he found in this place. He’d expected to appreciate the security of his headquarters, but never the pull of home. “But not for you, Lucas,” he said quietly.
“You’re casting me out?” Lucas half-jested.
“You’ll always be welcome,” he chided. “You know that. But you’ve staked a claim to the Plains. You can’t walk away and still expect anyone to honor your rights.”
“I know.” Lucas looked away. “What about those two?”
Raphael didn’t have to ask whom he meant. Lucas was polite to Ken’ichi, but barely tolerated Juro, still blaming him for the wounds Raphael had suffered when freeing the two brothers.
“Juro and Ken’ichi have until we reach the estate to make their decision. I’ve told them the same.”
“Will you turn them?”
“If that’s what they choose.”
“You think . . .” Lucas didn’t finish the thought.
“What worries you more, Lucas? That Juro will be useless to me? Or that he’ll be stronger than you are?”
He laughed dismissively. “He won’t be stronger than I am. I’m a vampire lord, Sire. There simply aren’t that many of us. But even if he’s a weak and stupid vampire, he’ll still be a very big man. That could be a problem for you.”
“If they ask to be turned—and they may not—I don’t think they’ll be weak or stupid. There are no certainties when it comes to vampires, but I have an intuitive sense about such things. I created you, didn’t I?”
Lucas grinned. “Yeah, but there’s only one of me, Sire. You know that.”
“And the world is grateful. Come on, Lucas,” he said spurring his horse to a faster pace. “I want to be home tonight.”
JURO STOOD ON the high bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean, marveling at the vivid color of the sky, as the sun dipped toward the horizon, and another day died. There was nothing to see here but ocean and sky, with wind-worn trees scattered along the bluff. The nearest neighbor was miles away. Malibu was a primitive place compared to the big city that was San Francisco. Los Angeles was close and thriving, but Raphael had chosen to establish his estate far away from all of that. It wasn’t much yet—a pair of houses that were weathered and worn. At first glance, they appeared on the verge of collapse, but, as with so many things when it came to Raphael, their ramshackle appearance was deceptive. In fact, the two houses, which were connected by a short, enclosed passageway, were extremely sturdy and well-sealed against sunlight. This was a place for vampires. Very few humans lived here, and those who did were bound to a vampire mate and so considered trustworthy. They served the household’s daytime needs, including guarding the vampires’ sleep.
Raphael had purchased the several acres of land for a fair price, although he’d probably used some vampire persuasion to get the owner to sell such a large plot. The other homes on this part of the coast were all small and set right next to each other on a brief stretch of sand.
But Raphael had wanted more. He had a vision for the future that Juro greatly admired. It was a vision that would provide safety and security for vast number of vampires, integrating them into the human world in a way that was unprecedented, and bringing both fortune and power. Juro supposed being a vampire made a man look at life differently. A human’s life was so brief compared to a vampire’s. Humans had a few decades to dream and grow, before they died. Vampires had centuries. Even that arrogant ass Lucas was over a century old.
He glanced back toward the sprawling residence and saw Ken’ichi walking out to join him. His brother was a man of few words. But when he had something to say, he made his voice heard. And, judging by the determined look on his face, Ken’ichi had something to say.
“Juro,” he said, coming up to stand next to him. They were identical in every way, except for the talking.
“Ken’ichi,” he responded in kind, waiting for his brother to say whatever was on his mind.
“This is a beautiful place, isn’t it?” he asked softly. “A man can hear his own thoughts here. Not like in San Francisco.”
Juro nodded, waiting.
“He’ll do it, you know.”
“Raphael?” Juro clarified.
“Yes. Some men plot their whole lives and never achieve a thing. Raphael’s different. His dream will become reality.”
“I know.”
“I’d like to be a part of it. Not just the living, but the building. It would give life purpose. And no one would ever own us again.”
“You don’t think it’s unnatural? Never to see sunlight, to drink human blood to survive?”
Ken’ichi shrugged. “What’s natural, brother? If it exists in nature, isn’t it natural?”
Juro laughed. “Now you’re playing word games with me.”
“But I’m right.”
“You are, but it’s not nature or purpose that calls me to this decision. It’s Raphael. He’s a leader of men—no matter that he’s a vampire. To earn his trust and loyalty would make me proud. If that ass Lucas is deserving of such, then you and I are surely twice so.”
Ken’ichi chuckled. “Accept it, brother. There’s a bond between them that you’ll never break.”
“And that’s exactly it. Raphael expects loyalty, but he gives it in an equal amount. He doesn’t break.”
“So, we’re agreed, then?”
Juro breathed deeply in and out. “I guess we are.”
RAPHAEL LOOKED up when the two brothers tapped lightly on the door of his study. He knew why they’d come. He even thought he knew their decision, but wanted to know for sure.
“Juro, Ken’ichi,” he greeted. “Come in.”
They walked in side by side and stood in front of his desk.
“You said we had a decision to make,” Juro said, taking the lead as usual. “Well, we’ve done so.”
Raphael leaned back and gave them a curious look.
Juro’s mouth tightened briefly, but then he said, “We’d like to join you. We want to be made vampires.”
Raphael was happy about their decision and wanted to smile, but he didn’t. “You’re certain. You’ve thought about what it means to be Vampire?”
“We have, my lord,” Ken’ichi said quietly. “And it’s what we want.”
Raphael smiled. “I’m pleased to welcome you then. I can turn you both in the same night. I’m assuming you’d prefer that?”
The brothers nodded in unison.
“Well, then . . . what about tonight? Or tomorrow, if you’d like to see one more day of sunlight.”
Juro blinked in surprise, as if facing that inevitable reality for the first time. It wasn’t hypothetical anymore. It was real. Ken’ichi, on the other hand, seemed perfectly relaxed, secure in his decision. The two of them exchanged a long look, and in the next moment, turned as one to face him again.
“Tonight will be fine, my lord,” Juro said. “We watched the sunset earlier.”
“Excellent. Who’s first?”
JURO STOOD ON the edge of the bluff, feeling the surf pound against the cliff. A full moon hung in the sky as big as the sun, giving the grassy bluff, with its few sparse trees, a silver sheen. It reminded him of Raphael’s eyes, which was a fanciful thought he never would have expected of himself.
Ken’ichi walked up and stood next to him. “Regrets?” he asked.
Juro shook his head. “None. My blood burns with power of a sort I don’t quite understand yet. I’m ten times as strong as I was before. And, brother, we were strong. How can I regret it?”
“Sunlight? Food?”
“A small price. Do you have regrets?” he asked abruptly. Ken’ichi had been the one with no regrets going in.
“Oh, no,” Ken’ichi said calmly. “This is what we were meant to be. I believe it.” He stood silently for a moment, then said, “Lord Raphael wants to see us.”
“Did he say why?”
“I don’t believe he needs a reason, but he did give one. He needs an army, and he’d like us to train it.”
Juro grinned. “Really?” He nodded slowly. “I like that. Let’s get to work, brother. Our new life begins tonight.”
The End