Lynn Viehl - [Darkyn 08 - Lords of the Darkyn 01] (23 page)

“I do not believe that when mortals have a breakdown they lose control of their abilities, descend into insanity, or try to kill anything that moves. But the doctor was able to help the high lord from succumbing to changeling madness; perhaps she can save me as well.” He sat down on the bed. “While Alexandra attends to me, what happens to you, Nicola?”

“Nothing. Nothing happens to me. I go back to my old life, stealing and hoarding medieval shit, and messing with the holy freaks, and rescuing the occasional crucified vamp, and you’re not buying this at all, are you?” When he shook his head, she sighed and dropped down beside him. “Okay. When it gets bad for me, I’ll come and visit. We’ll spend the weekend in bed.”

“I fear the occasional booty call will not be adequate.” He regarded her solemnly. “The only reason Alexandra survived being separated from Michael during her captivity in Ireland is because Korvel bonded her to him.”

Nick almost fell off the bed. “He
what?
”

“It was not intentional,” Gabriel said. “For a time after her reunion with Michael, Alex was torn between the two bonds. Eventually she freed herself of Korvel’s influence, but the captain has never been the same.” He picked up the nun’s pullover. “That is why I find this so odd. Richard has said that Korvel has not touched a woman since Alexandra left Ireland.”

Nick chuffed out some air. “The vampire king keeps tabs on who his captain is boinking?”

“Korvel’s ability makes any mortal female desire him,” Gabriel told her. “His prowess with women is the stuff of legends. Believe me,
everyone
has noticed.”

“But that means two Kyn breaking up isn’t automatically instant madness and destruction and death.” She felt a little better. “Good to know.”

“Korvel and Alex never consummated their bond.” He picked up her hand. “You and I, however, have been lovers from the first time we met.” He traced the spaces between her fingers. “Perhaps that was when we bonded as well.”

“You didn’t know I had fangs, and by the time you did it was already a done deal.” A surge of shame made her add, “Back then I knew what was happening between us. I mean, I didn’t get a Kyn instruction manual with my fangs, so I didn’t know how serious it was, but I could feel it. It’s why I tried to dump you in London.”

“You came back for me,” he reminded her. “Do you know, you are the only soul in the world who has never abandoned me?” He brought her fist to his lips. “That is why you are first in my life. I love you. Richard can go hang himself.”

He was going to turn her into a big puddle of goo. “Gabriel.”

“Now come.” He kissed her lips. “We will track Korvel together.”

Simone tried not to look at Korvel, but even in the murky light she could see the contact burns on his face, and the bloody lacerations he’d received from trying to tear his way out of the net. “You agreed to meet with me, Lechance, and on your word I came here unarmed. Is this how you intend to repay your debt to my father?”

“I would certainly never do this to your father, but he is still traveling abroad, isn’t he? Or perhaps not.” Rellen Lechance went over to the net and crouched down to peer at Korvel. “Incredible. I had been told several tales of how dangerous copper is to these creatures, but I thought them somewhat exaggerated. Yet here is proof that it was all true. Does it actually burn you, vampire?”

“You have made a mistake,” Korvel said, rising to his feet and flooding the air with his scent. “Release me and the girl. At once.”

“Now I’ll wager that you are giving off that pretty scent you bastards use to turn humans into mindless slaves.” The guild master tapped the clear nose plug he and all the men were wearing. “Won’t work here, I’m afraid. Can you do anything else? If we toss you off the roof, will you sprout wings and fly?”

“Oh, yes. All vampires can.” Korvel bared his
dents acérées.
“Remove the net and I’ll give you a ride on my back.”

Lechance chuckled. “I like you. Captain, is it? Simone, please introduce me to your new friend.”

She gritted her teeth. “This is Monsieur Rellen Lechance, Master of the Assassin’s Guild.”

Korvel’s eyes became slits. “Brethren?”

“Ex-Mafia, as it happens,” Lechance told him before she could answer. “Once our employers packed up their operations here in Marseilles and moved down the coast, many of us decided we should form an organization of our own. Contract killings, for the most part, but we occasionally pick up a political assassination or a divorce-case settlement. I find it astonishing how many extremely wealthy men neglect to secure a proper prenuptial agreement before they wed themselves to cocktail waitresses and strippers.”

“You said you didn’t want him,” Simone said, trying to fight back against the panic. “You have me, and you know what I am worth.”

“True, but these creatures are quite valuable, too,” the guild master said. “The Italians who pose as priests have kept a massive bounty on them for years. A scientist from the States has offered to pay a million American dollars for a specimen, as will several unsavory governments. For the scientist, we do not even have to deliver him breathing.”

Simone saw the way he was looking at her. “What do you want, Guild Master?”

Lechance removed two fighting blades, walking them over his knuckles before he threw them at her. They struck the dirt by her feet, their hilts bobbing. “Fight for him, win, and I will free you both.”

She did not move. “I am not my father.”

He shrugged. “Then die for him.”

Ten of the guildsmen came toward her, each taking a position in an unseen circle. The black cloth covering their heads from crown to neck prevented Simone from seeing their faces, and from their formation she had no doubt the guild master had taught them to strike as one. Their movements, however, shouted who they had once been: soldiers, martial artists, street fighters.

Training begins in childhood, so that you may learn,
her father told each boy brought to the château.
An adult cannot be trained; what they bring to the circle can never be unlearned.

Simone saw the guildsmen in her head as she looked down at the blades by her feet. The three soldiers would be first to attack, then the street fighters, and finally the martial artists. She felt the tension of their muscles as they gathered themselves; she heard the soft movements of their gloves as they exchanged subtle hand signals. Four of them had begun to sweat; one licked it from his lips.

“Simone,” she heard Korvel call. “Run.”

She looked over at the copper net and the bleeding fingers tearing at it. “I’m sorry I never told you, Korvel.”

The first charged at her from behind as two flanking her ran a cross pattern. As soldiers, they had been trained to fight upright, falling prone only to take cover or to change position, and expected the enemy to do the same. Simone dropped, seizing the blades and diving between the legs of her first attacker, cutting his hamstrings. She rolled over in time to parry the man on her left as he struck down, grabbing his shoulder and using his momentum to throw him into the third soldier, who collapsed in a tangle with him.

Back on her feet, she moved to the scaffolding, using a running jump to pull herself up to the first level and turning to drive her boot into the face of the guildsman who pursued her; she leaped over the one who followed him and swept her arm back, slamming her elbow into the base of his skull.

She regarded the five who were left, and how they rearranged themselves. These were the watchful ones, the martial artists with their black belts and their clever techniques. They would be strong, practiced, and deceptive, but they had been trained to read the body of the enemy to anticipate his or her actions.

Simone remained still, holding her arms to shield her upper body while she shifted her eyes from one chest to another. Two of the men danced back and forth as they approached, feinting strikes at her head before they lashed out with their feet at her legs. She fell before they could touch her, jerking the legs they stood on out from beneath them.

Both fell back, one striking the back of his head and going still, the other managing to partially break his fall with an arm. The snap of his ulna sounded like a brittle branch as Simone wrapped an arm around his neck and dragged him up, heaving his body toward two more guildsmen.

That left one standing only a few feet from her, and he stepped forward, keeping his eyes on her face as he bobbed in a shallow bow. He raised his arms, his hands cupped, his legs slightly bent at the knees, prepared for any move she intended to make.

Except this one,
Simone thought, raising the .22 she had taken from one of the soldiers and shooting the last guildsmen in the knee.

Handlers rushed in to help up the wounded and drag away the unconscious as Lechance clapped his hands together, once, twice, three times.

“Your father would be proud, Simone, although I am surprised you were trained to handle a gun,” the guild master said. “As I remember, he was all about the blade.”

“The only thing my father cared about was the kill.” Simone bent, reaching under the shelving unit to retrieve the rifle the unconscious guard had dropped.

He tilted his head. “A pity he didn’t live long enough to see this. Before you ask, I knew that he died ten years ago. I provided the documents he needed for his steward to assume his identity, and swore never to tell anyone of his death or how he had concealed it. As you see, I kept my word.”

“Thank you.” She chambered the next round with a snap of her wrist, aiming for Lechance’s heart. “Release him.”

The guild master nodded to his guards, who grabbed the pulley ropes and raised the copper net. Korvel staggered to his feet.

“Captain,” Simone said, not taking her eyes from Lechance. “Please go. I will join you outside in a few moments.”

“Not without you.”

As he walked over to her, her mouth tightened. Their chances of getting out of here alive were dwindling by the second, but she had to know. To Lechance, she said, “You gave Pájaro sanctuary when he ran away. You helped him fake his death as well.” When Lechance inclined his head, she asked, “Why?”

He folded his hands. “I couldn’t resist the boy’s offer. He gave ten years of service in exchange for my protection and instruction. He might have failed to meet your father’s impossible standards, but by the time he had finished his service to me, he had over four hundred clean kills. Almost twice as many as my next-best man.”

She almost pulled the trigger. “You know where he is now. Tell me.”

Lechance smiled. “I will do even better. I will take you to him. Pájaro wants both of you. Alive.”

An air rifle fired, and Korvel lunged in front of her. He turned, still protecting her with his body, and she looked down to see the dart sticking from his chest. He sagged, and as she grabbed him she felt a sharp pain in her neck.

Korvel remained on his feet, but he was swaying like a tree in a high wind. As the guild master came to them, he turned his head. “Why did you make her fight?”

“It’s simple, vampire,” Lechance said. “I promised her father that I would.”

Chapter 14

R

ellen Lechance watched his men struggle to lift the vampire’s heavy body. “You know, with a blood sample and a few days, I could convince the Americans to double their offer.”

“Yes, and if he escapes them, he will know precisely where to find you.” Pájaro eyed the wounded still littering the floor of the warehouse. “Why didn’t you shoot him as soon as he arrived?”

“There was no warning.” The guild master gestured overhead. “He jumped through the skylight.”

“I warned you that they were clever, Rellen.” Pájaro used his first name with a certain relish before he rubbed the end of his nose and sniffed. “You should take more precautions with your security, before you end up being loaded into a trunk yourself.”

“Good advice.” The guild master made brief eye contact with his bodyguard, who shifted his position and drew a pistol. “When can I expect payment for my services?”

“Don’t be greedy. I’ll contact you when the old man is dead.” Pájaro strode off.

The guild master made a subtle hand signal, and three men scattered in different directions. His bodyguard followed him into his office, and stood watching through the window as Lechance sat down and placed a call to Rome.

“He has them,” he told the man on the other end of the line. He described the events of the night before and said, “My men will continue surveillance until yours arrive.”

“Does he have the scroll?”

“Oh, yes,” Lechance said. “And the Spaniard is already showing the first signs.”

“Keep me informed.”

Lechance ended the call and sat back to brood. In all the years he had known Simone Derien and her father, he had always wondered whether the legends were true. From what he had observed over his long and violent lifetime, women were not fashioned for fighting. While they could be vicious, particularly when defending their young, they lacked the killing instinct.

Simone had cut through his men without hesitation or the slightest degree of difficulty; seeing her fight had been alternately thrilling and dismaying. He had witnessed power and precision beyond his comprehension; he knew he would never have it at his command. In fact, if events played out as the men in Rome had orchestrated, Simone Derien would not live to fight again.

Lechance saw his bodyguard’s back muscles tense. “What is it?”

“Two intruders. A man and a woman.” The bodyguard stiffened and drew his pistol. “They are not human.”

“Put that away.” The guild master walked out into the warehouse, where a tall, white-haired female and her handsome companion were making short work of his men. “
Arrête.
” Once the few remaining men who were still mobile hobbled back, Lechance regarded the couple. “
Vous désirez?
Can I help you?”

“Personally I’d like a nap,” the woman said in American-accented English as she stepped over a limp body. “These late nights totally wreck me. So be a nice guy and tell us where you have them stashed.”