Page 4 of Betrayed in Blood
“No,” Erik said.
“You didn’t save anyone for questioning?” Devon asked.
“Aramburu doesn’t take prisoners. He doesn’t ask questions. If you come at him, he responds with deadly force.”
“Will you return them?”
Erik spat on the dead vamp at his feet. “Whether it was Venizi or not, vamps not returning home are a strong enough message. The bodies will be burned in the pit.” He took a moment to study Devon and then me. “You have no major injuries?”
When we both shook our heads, he nodded toward the church. “We typically use this spot for clearing away anyone foolish enough to follow us. The church appears abandoned, but it has running water and private rooms to clean up. We try to keep blood out of the Rolls. You have thirty minutes. Aramburu will be most angered by this.” Then his smile returned. “But it will be tempered by stories of our fair Cressa and her battle cry as she engaged the enemy.”
I stared at him, then at Devon. “I don’t have a battle cry.”
Devon just smiled.
ChapterTwo
Devonand I cleaned up quickly, and we were soon on our way. The limo cruised through low mountain ranges for another ten miles before reaching a plateau, green from spring rains and winter snow melt from the higher elevations.
Devon leaned forward. “What’s that?”
I scooted farther in my seat to look through the front windshield. I squinted, not sure what I was seeing. It appeared to be a fortress, but all I could see—if what I was looking at was more than a mirage—were tall walls that seemed to stretch forever.
“We have reached El Recinto,” Erik said. “The name of the compound is much longer, but over time it has become easier to just say El Recinto. Aramburu’s land is vast. As I said earlier, we were well onto his land when we reached the old monastery. What you see before you is the main entrance. It sits in the middle of Aramburu territory and is well protected from outsiders.”
I huddled next to Devon, our heads bent low to take in the scene as the limo approached the ten-foot-high walls. Two steel gates, browned with age, blocked the entrance.
“I can’t see where the wall ends.” I heard the awe in my voice, but no other emotion seemed appropriate. I’d never seen anything like it.
“This reminds me of the early fortresses in Asia.” Devon sat back, pulling me with him, holding me close.
Erik and Ulrik both grinned. “You’re in store for much more.”
The gates opened on their approach. Two guard stations, one on each side, were constructed as an extension of the wall. A video monitor had been built into its own stone encasement and stood just outside the guard station. With all the security before we reached El Recinto, I wasn’t sure when the video was ever used. Perhaps it was for when supplies were brought in.
The limo never slowed on its approach, and once we were past the wall, I turned to watch the gates close behind us. Devon squeezed my hand and the nerves that had been twitching settled. The landscape wasn’t any different on this side, and it was another mile before the first outbuildings could be seen.
Devon tapped my shoulder and pointed to our right. I was pretty sure my mouth dropped open. There was an enormous hangar and a runway long enough for a private jet to take off and land. Cows and sheep roamed around it, grazing on what appeared to be prairie grass similar to the land around Oasis.
Most of the outbuildings were maintenance sheds based on the utility trucks parked near them, and it was another half mile before the outbuildings turned into homes with children playing outside and women tending gardens. After another quarter of a mile, another wall could be seen. This one appeared to be shorter, perhaps eight feet tall, and I could see the end of the wall, though it ran the length of a football field on each side of another gate. There were towers at the corners with at least one guard in each one. Along the top of the wall, I glimpsed another guard. The entire wall must have a walkway between each tower.
This time the gates were wrought iron, though tall wooden doors were mounted on each side that could be closed over the iron gates for additional defense. It was impressive.
The gates stood open, providing a more welcoming feel than the first gates we’d passed through. Inside was a floral masterpiece accented by olive and oak trees. The manor was as large as Oasis but built in the Spanish hacienda style with a tiled veranda and curved arches.
The limo drove around the fountain that sat in the middle of the circular drive and pulled to a stop in front of a wide but short set of stairs. The driver opened the door, and Erik got out first, followed by Devon, with me right behind him.
I pressed my sweaty palms along the folds of my sky-blue sundress and glanced around. It took a moment before the wooden front doors, each with a large lion sconce on them, opened as two vampires strode out. I was getting better at recognizing vampires by the tiny inflections they made and how they held themselves, but in this case, there was no question these two ruled El Recinto.
It was also obvious the two were related.
The only thing that gave away which one might be Gregor Aramburu, the House leader, was the touch of gray along his temples that quickly disappeared into thick black hair that touched the top of his collar and framed an arresting face. He had a broad forehead, a bent nose, and dark eyes that were currently dancing with pleasure, but I sensed they could easily change to anger. He wasn’t tall, just under six feet, with a robust chest and a tan, weathered face. This was someone who spent a lot of time outdoors, not the typical ancient vamp partial to the dark.
The vampire next to him resembled Gregor, except he was a couple of inches taller. His midnight-colored hair was cut in a stylish manner with the top longer than the sides, and with his goatee, he gave off a roguish aura. He was handsome, but his eyes were similar to his father’s—easily turning to displeasure—though they currently matched the smile on his face.
“Devon Trelane.” The older man held out his hand. “This meeting is a long time coming. I’m Gregor Aramburu, and this is my oldest, Alejandro.”
“I appreciate the invitation to your home.”
