vampires in america 7 - Aden (23 page)

But other than those few bits of information, Salvador was a cipher to Aden, which was never a good thing going into a challenge. Bastien was working their contacts here in the Midwest and elsewhere trying to find out what he could, but they didn’t have much time. The challenge was set to take place an hour from now in Washington Park. Not the neighborhood, but the actual park. It was a big public space on Chicago’s South Side, consisting of several hundred acres, most of it grass and trees, and largely deserted at this time of night. A public park wasn’t the place Aden would have chosen for a challenge battle, but then he had private properties of his own within the city that he could use. He’d been building his network here for some time, well before Lucas had finally offed Klemens. Lucas had tapped Aden to run his Kansas City operation several decades ago, which had put him only a short flight away from Chicago.

On the other hand, this was probably the first time Salvador had spent any time in the city. Notwithstanding the significant drug trade Klemens had been carrying on with certain interests in Mexico, there wasn’t much in the way of cross-border dealings between vampire territories. Raphael was trying to change that, trying to get the North American territories talking to each other in order to fight a common enemy.

But that was in the future. For tonight, it meant there’d been no opportunity for Salvador to check out the battleground or set up any kind of headquarters in advance. Even if Klemens had allowed the foreign vampire to visit his city, Enrique probably wouldn’t have agreed. The Lord of Mexico was said to be very old school with his vampires and saw the rivalry between the territories as a good thing.

All of which meant that Salvador’s choice of Washington Park was a smart one.

“Sire,” Bastien said, interrupting his contemplation of tonight’s opponent. “I spoke to Lord Raphael’s lieutenant, Jared. We had some dealings last year before his promotion, when he was still troubleshooting for Lord Raphael.”

Aden nodded his understanding. The long explanation wasn’t really necessary, but Bastien’s caution was understandable. Vampires were hugely territorial, and a different master might have wondered why his lieutenant had a relationship with a high-ranking vampire in another territory. But Aden wasn’t that insecure, nor did he view Raphael as an enemy. Especially not with what he’d recently learned about the threat from Europe.

“Jared put me in touch with a vampire named Jaclyn who is Raphael’s representative in the Southern territory. She’s been helping Lord Anthony rule the South—”

“More like ruling the South herself,” Aden observed. “But I’ll play along. What does Jaclyn have to say about Salvador?”

Bastien shot Aden a quick grin. Everyone knew that Anthony couldn’t hold the South without Raphael’s support. But then, based on what Aden had learned recently about who really killed Jabril, the previous Lord of the South, it was Raphael’s
mate
who had a better claim to the territory than anyone else, no matter whose ass currently occupied the seat of power.

“Jaclyn knows Ramiro Salvador reasonably well,” Bastien continued. “With all the cartel violence in Mexico lately, there have been multiple issues related to territorial security, and she’s met him several times. In her opinion, Salvador’s strong enough to hold a territory, although she was unaware that he had any designs on the Midwest. She’s never met you, my lord, and so had no direct comparison, but she did say Salvador was on a par with Jared. And Jared is more than commonly powerful.”

“He wouldn’t be a member of Raphael’s inner circle if he wasn’t. Has Salvador fought anyone else in the current challenge, or is he jumping right to the top?”

“A few minor skirmishes during the gala, picking off easy targets. No death matches.”

“Guess I’ll be his first then. Let’s get going. Don’t want to make him wait for his own funeral.”

Aden pulled Freddy and Travis back, wanting all three of his vamps close at hand before the fighting broke out. It was a common tactic to pick off an opponent’s vampire children in an effort to weaken him before the battle. Aden didn’t want the distraction, but he also didn’t want to lose any of his vampires. He loved them, if not as children, then as brothers. Never having had either, he couldn’t say which it was, but he knew their deaths would pain him greatly.

“Tighten your shields,” he warned all of them.

“Sire.” Three voices answered as one.

Bastien’s low-voiced warning presaged Salvador’s appearance from the darkness on the other side of a small clearing. Not that Aden needed the warning. To his vampiric sight, the Mexican vampire shone like a beacon, his power every bit as strong as reported. Maybe stronger.

“Ramiro Salvador, I presume,” he called out.

“And you are the great Aden,” Salvador responded with a sneer. “Your name was everywhere in the ballroom on Sunday. The fools are all saying you’ll be the next Lord of the Midwest.”

Aden dipped his head in acknowledgement, already bored with the theatrics.

“I even saw you kissing Raphael’s ass, making nice with his woman, for all the good it will do you. It’s not Raphael who will decide this.”

“Perhaps not,” Aden conceded, unconcerned. “But you’re a fool if you think he can’t affect the outcome.”

Salvador bristled at the sideways insult, just as Aden had intended. The Mexican’s power was lapping across the clearing in big looping waves, as if he was making no attempt to conceal it. It was as if he hoped that broadcasting his aggression would dissuade Aden from the challenge altogether.

Or perhaps he was more clever than that. Perhaps he thought that by making himself seem undisciplined and unable to control his own power leakage, Aden would assume he was weaker than he really was.

But Salvador was badly underestimating Aden, if he thought to fool him that easily.

For his part, Aden kept his power under a tight leash as always. Even knowing that Salvador might be only playing the fool, it was simply bad form to permit one’s power to slop all over like that. Besides, it would be much more fun to see the shock on his opponent’s face when he realized who, and what, he was really up against.

Salvador stalked out from under the trees and into the moonlight. He was of better than average height, with a wiry build, and his posture was stiff with hostility. His hands were clenched at his sides, his body leaning forward slightly, leading with his jaw.

Aden watched him come, then dropped a comforting hand on Bastien’s shoulder and strolled into the light himself. He let a mocking smile drift over his face and said, “Last chance, Salvador. You can still go home alive.”

“You should heed your own warning,
cabron.
Only one of us will be walking out of here tonight.”

Aden’s amusement fled. He liked to think, after more than 250 years, that he’d gotten over the fact of his illegitimate birth. But that didn’t mean he had to accept the insult from the likes of Ramiro Salvador.

He loosened the hold on his power just a little, letting it waft around the clearing like a gentle breeze, still only the smallest hint of his true strength.

Salvador grinned, putting his fangs on full display. “That all you got? One more chance, big man. Walk out of here.”

Aden bared his own teeth in a blatant challenge. “Too late.”

He released his power in a flood, his eyes hooded with satisfaction as he took in the wide-eyed realization on Salvador’s face. Deep inside Aden, the part of his Vampire gift that he rarely tapped and that very few knew existed came alive. It reached out, rolling in the scent of the Mexican’s fear, like a dog in something dead, drinking it in, drawing strength from it. The more rational part of Aden’s brain waited to see if Salvador would surrender, half-hoping he would. But that deep part of him, the part that was chortling with pleasure at his enemy’s dread, that part hoped Salvador would stand and fight
 . . .
and die.

And that’s what he did.

Once Salvador had stepped into the clearing, there had been little chance of anything else. If he’d made the challenge and then surrendered without fighting, he’d never have been able to go back home, never have been able to face his Sire. For all Aden knew, Enrique was the kind of Sire who would execute his own child for embarrassing him.

But after his initial shock, Salvador stood his ground. He stopped playing games and immediately tightened his power around himself, creating a nearly impenetrable shield.

Aden had fought many challengers over the years, had seen his opponents’ power take the form of a variety of shields and weapons. But Salvador’s was something new. Most shields were either constantly in motion, or solidly immovable. Salvador’s was like a series of overlapping plates that were constantly changing, shifting position, freezing fractionally, then shifting again. It was a particularly difficult shield to overcome. One had to figure out when the shield was weakest, when it was moving or when it was realigning itself, and then time the shifts in order to anticipate a vulnerability. But, its very complexity made Aden wonder why the Mexican vampire hadn’t fought and won enough duels to make a name for himself. There had to be a weakness, a fatal flaw.

Aden didn’t have time to consider that, though, as Salvador launched the first salvo, clearly having decided his best bet lay in striking hard and fast. Aden absorbed the initial attack—shields pulled tight around his body, fixed and secure—not even trying to deflect. He wanted to feel the weight of Salvador’s power, feel its heat through his shields. He was still learning his opponent, still gathering intel.

What Salvador saw, however, was the slight give of Aden’s shield under his attack. Misunderstanding its cause, the Mexican vampire grinned viciously.

Aden grinned back, and the Mexican’s pleasure faltered.

While Salvador was still figuring out what had happened, Aden attacked, his power whipping out in a long, flexible curve of energy, wrapping around Salvador and tightening like a noose, but a noose made of edged steel rather than rope. Salvador’s shield slid, trying to slip away from the grasp of Aden’s assault, trying to cut through the whip-thin band of energy. Aden felt the pressure and pulled his power back, once again letting the Mexican vampire grin in victory. But this time, Aden kept his own expression carefully blank. The Mexican’s grin only widened.

Aden now knew at least one of his challenger’s weaknesses— arrogance, which some mistook for confidence. Confidence was good. Arrogance would get you killed.

Salvador struck again, and the fight truly began. Power lanced back and forth without halt, singeing the trees overhead, starting little fires that were quickly doused when the next blast of energy sucked all the oxygen out of the air. Aden unleashed the full weight of his power, slamming it outward in a concussive wave that knocked Salvador back several steps and sent one of the Mexican’s minions crashing into a tree. The vampire minion yelped in pain, and Salvador leapt back into the fray, his fists raised then slammed into each other, creating a vibrating roll of energy that bombarded Aden’s shields with sound and fury, pounding against his eardrums and setting up a cacophony in his head that was badly disorienting. Aden was forced to retreat within his own shields, using his power to push back, interrupting the energy waves and stopping the noise.