Rajmund

Page 20

She remembered a professor she'd had in graduate school. He'd been born in Poland before the war, had survived the destruction of his small Jewish village, the obliteration of everyone and everything he knew, not only his entire family—although that was horrific enough—but of an entire way of life. She'd been his teaching assistant for a year and had spent a lot of time with him, drinking tea and listening to his stories of a world that was gone forever. He'd told her all sorts of things, but what she recalled now was a bit of wisdom from the old country. She'd never mastered the Polish words; it was a difficult language and one you could study for years and still not get the nuances right. But a rough translation had been something like, “For every monster, there's a monster to love him."
Maybe that's what she saw in Raj. They were both monsters of a sort, freaks in a world of people who went about their lives, never having to worry about dreams of tortured women or . . . well, whatever it was vampires worried about. Blood, she supposed, and where to get it.
She became aware of movement around her and realized the meeting was breaking up at last. Across the table, the Department Chairman was giving her an odd look, and she tried to look thoughtful and scholarly, instead of bored, as she gathered up her papers and shoved them into her oversized purse. She must have succeeded because he gave her a short, approving nod before joining a group of the more senior, i.e., male, department members who would now troop over to the nearest bar and drink themselves into a stupor. One thing she'd noticed right away about academics. They drank a lot. At least the older ones did. And who knew? A few more years of these meetings and she might be drinking a lot too.
She started for the elevator with everyone else, but a glance at her watch sent her racing for the stairs instead. She wanted to shower and change before tonight. She might be a monster, but that didn't mean she had to look or smell like one.
Raj woke in a much better mood on his second night in the city. He'd had plenty of time this morning to get back to his lair, strip off his clothes and even enjoy a nice, cold shot of vodka before settling down to sleep the day away, safe in his personal vault below the streets of downtown Buffalo. And it didn't hurt that he'd be paying Sarah a personal visit very soon. The taste of her skin had been sweet. Her blood would be even sweeter. He frowned. There was, however, a lot more to Sarah Stratton than a sweet taste. She was hiding something and he intended to know what it was before this night was over.
He checked his watch. It was just after eight. There was one stop he needed to make first—some preparations for Em and the troops. And then sweet Sarah would have his undivided attention and he would have his answers.
His phone rang as he pulled up to a big industrial building not far from Buffalo's international airport. “Where are you, Em?” he answered.
"My lord,” Em said, speaking loudly to be heard over the considerable background noise of a small airport. “We're loading supplies, now. We'll be there before midnight."
"I'm at the safe house,” he said, staring out the windshield at the darkened building. “I'll turn on the lights and warm it up, but I won't be here when you arrive. I'm meeting someone in a few minutes."
"Dinner, boss?"
"You could say that. Speaking of which, you've all fed tonight, right?"
"You have to ask?"
"Right. Have everyone stay close when you get into town. I'll come by later and fill you in, but something is majorly fucked up in this city, and I don't want any of my people going out there blind."
"Will do, boss."
"Later."
Raj slipped the phone into his jacket pocket and got out of the car. The old warehouse loomed two stories above him, lit only by the big security lights all along its substantial length, and above the door. Its brick walls were old and blackened from years of airport pollution and hard weather, and it appeared deserted. An astute observer would have noticed, however, that the light fixtures were new and enclosed in sturdy cages to deter vandalism. That although the windows were dirty and flecked with bird droppings, not a single one of them was cracked or broken, the panes filled with safety glass and firmly sealed. And the single pedestrian entrance was a solid steel door with a heavy duty lock.
Raj had always known that someday he'd be making a move against Krystof. He'd bought this property years ago, snapping it up at a bargain price when its former owner had needed a discreet sale and Raj had had the cash on hand. Of course, the title had changed several times since then—on paper, anyway. As he stared up at the building, it hit him for the first time that before the month was out he would be the Northeastern Vampire Lord. It never occurred to him that he would fail. He would defeat Krystof and take his place as one of the rarified few who controlled all of Vampire society. It was not something he particularly lusted after. If Krystof had been a different sort of master, Raj would have been content to stay in Manhattan with his clubs and his children, insulated against vampire politics.
But Krystof had always been a petty tyrant, forever the spoiled, younger son of an aging royal house to which he'd been born to as a human. The recent deterioration of his mind had only exacerbated inborn weaknesses. And, as for Raj, he'd had enough of one master; he had no intention of serving another.
He unlocked the sturdy metal door. A soft security light came on to reveal a small vestibule, with a second door a few feet beyond. The interior door opened readily, once the exterior door was fully closed, and Raj stepped into the main building, immediately flipping switches to bring up the overhead lights.
While the building's exterior only hinted that it was more than it looked, the inside left no doubt. The only windows were high above the floor and sealed with thick steel shutters. Long banks of industrial lights illuminated every corner of the vast, empty space. And when Raj's people arrived later, they'd drive their vehicles right into the warehouse through the roll-up bay doors, which were currently secured by thick rods drilled into the concrete floor.
There was a mezzanine over the loading bay, with several rooms for his human guards—a few trusted men and women whom Em would bring in from Manhattan along with the vampire contingent. As with Raj's much smaller, private warehouse downtown, the main sleeping quarters for the vampires were below ground, safe behind a bank-like vault door.
His booted footsteps echoed loudly as he crossed the warehouse floor. Down two short flights of stairs, he keyed in a digital combination and opened the vault. The accommodations inside were Spartan, but then this had never been intended as a permanent headquarters. It was a staging area, nothing more. He turned on the lights there as well, checked the temperature on the thermostat and headed back upstairs, leaving the door open behind him. Upstairs, there was a microwave to serve the dual function of heating food for the humans and blood for the vampires. A refrigerator sat next to the counter, which doubled as a bar, and against the far wall, near the stairs, a large blood storage unit hummed happily. It was empty now, but not for long. He verified that it was working and glanced again at his watch. Time to go.
Leaving the main lights on, he closed and secured the vault and exited the building, locking it behind him. Em knew this place; she'd been the one who'd helped him set it up. She certainly didn't need him to tell her how to get their people settled. And besides, Sarah was waiting.
Chapter Eighteen
Sarah linked arms with Linda as they walked out of the restaurant. The cold night air bit hard after the warm restaurant which, in this case, was a good thing. She'd probably had too much wine to drink, but it had tasted so good and for just a little while, she'd been able to forget everything else and just enjoy the party. Unfortunately, she could never forget for too long or too well. Which was why Linda would soon be back inside with Sam and his friends, getting even tipsier, while sober Sarah went home like the good girl she'd never planned to become.
"Are you sure you won't stay, sweetie?” Linda's breath was fragrant with the lovely Chateau Margaux they'd been drinking all evening.
"Yes, I'm sure. I've got to get some sleep or I'll be useless tomorrow, and I need to get back to my research.” She hadn't told Linda that Raj was coming over later and didn't intend to. Her friend would probably begin planning the wedding if she found out Sarah had an actual date.
"I do research, too,” Linda said happily. “Just not very often.” She laughed, as if that was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. In the restaurant, she'd insisted on walking Sarah safely out to her car, but now Sarah was wondering who was going to walk Linda safely back inside.
"Maybe you should go back inside,” she said now, trying to turn them back toward the restaurant. “I can find my—"
"Good evening, Sarah."
She jumped at the sound of Raj's voice, turning to find him leaning casually against her car, looking like a cross between the bad boy every mother warned her daughter about and a model in a Calvin Klein aftershave ad. His broad shoulders were encased in leather, his narrow hips and long legs covered in snug fitting denims that made her stomach—and lower parts of her anatomy, too—ache. He gave her a wicked smile, as if he knew exactly what she was feeling.
"Raj,” she all but squeaked.
"Raj?” Linda stopped dead in her tracks, suddenly completely sober as she took in this new development. “And who might this be, Sarah, my darling?” she asked silkily, scanning the vampire head to toe with unabashed curiosity. “That research you had to get back to, perhaps?"
"Um.” Sarah felt herself blushing and hurried to say, “Linda, this is Raymond Gregor. Raj, my friend Linda Hoffman."
Raj gave Linda a cool glance and held out his hand to Sarah. She took it without thinking and found herself pulled away from Linda's embrace and into the curve of his arm. He secured her there before saying, “A pleasure, Linda. I'll see to it that Sarah gets home safely."
"Will you?” Linda said archly, with a speculative glance at Sarah. “Well, well."