He stepped out of the helicopter. The spring night air felt cool and damp against his skin. As soon as the other fighters hit the ground, they began to run.
A high security fence surrounded the estate, but that was no real obstacle for Vampyres. As Julian drew near, he put on a burst of power and speed, and launched into the air to clear the top of the fence by a good yard. He paused until all the others had joined him, then the team fanned out and stalked toward the mansion.
His sharp gaze scanned the area as they grew close, and he knew Yolanthe and the others were doing the same, looking for potential traps or security pitfalls. The scene looked perfectly domestic and peaceful.
A sense of disquiet stirred.
Julian didn’t bother to use his headset. Yolanthe was in charge of her team, and she would be the one to issue them orders. He told her telepathically, Something’s not right. We need to slow down.
She responded immediately, whispering into her mic, “Everybody, hold up.”
The team came to a halt. Julian studied the huge, sprawling mansion. Every interior light blazed, yet as he strained to listen, the house was completely silent. He could hear nothing. No music, or television. No sounds, anywhere in the area, until he grew convinced the property was deserted.
He muttered to Yolanthe, I don’t like this.
I don’t either. While she had straightened from her crouch, her expression remained hard and wary.
Keep your team here. He headed for the house.
She whispered a quick set of orders and raced to fall into step beside him. That hadn’t been exactly what he had meant, but other than throwing her an irritated glance, he said nothing and they continued the rest of the way together.
They came to the house at an angle and slightly to the rear, so that after they rounded a landscaped copse, the entire back of the building came into view.
A door stood open. Light streamed out, throwing a rectangle of illumination on the well-tended lawn.
Abandoning his cautious stance, he strode up to the doorway, Yolanthe at his heels. Stepping inside, he came into a large, luxurious kitchen.
Three people, two women and a man, lay in pools of crimson on the floor around a butcher-block island. Their throats had been cut. He recognized one of the women. She had been Justine’s latest lover, the beautiful woman Justine had kept on a leash at the Vampyre’s Ball. Now the dead woman’s pale features wore a bewildered expression.
He exchanged a sharp, frowning glance with Yolanthe, then moved into the hall. Throughout the ground level, he found more bodies, many more. A larger group was gathered in a family-style rec room. Those had been shot, each one double tapped with professional efficiency, a bullet to the heart and a bullet to the head.
Son of a bitch.
He stood staring at them, until Yolanthe stepped into the room. She swore softly when she caught sight of the group.
Only then did he turn away. His gaze fell to a small, telltale pile of dust, all of what typically remained of a Vampyre after they had been killed.
After walking through a few more rooms, he stopped and pinched his nose. A tension headache began to squeeze the back of his skull.
He had been right. There was nobody in the house — nobody left alive.
“There aren’t any signs of struggle,” Yolanthe said.
He said softly, “An outside attacker didn’t commit these murders. Either these people had died willingly, or Justine had spelled them into compliance. Either way, she slaughtered her entire household.”
Justine had known he would come here. Of course she had. She had realized that as soon as she heard that Xavier had survived. And she had made quite sure that nobody would be able to tell Julian anything.
His voice turned gravelly with the force of his emotion, he said, “You might as well call in the rest of the team. Have them search the other buildings, just in case. Let me know what the body count is when you’re done.”
The other Vampyre looked grim, her complexion pale. “Yes, sir.”
While Yolanthe’s team searched the property, Julian walked through the silent house. When he came to a darkened office, he flipped on the light and went to sit at the desk. A forensics team would scour everything in the room, including any files, but for now, he turned on a desktop computer and watched as it powered up.
The welcome screen appeared, with a prompt to set up the computer. It had been wiped and reset to the factory default.
Leaving the office, he walked upstairs and looked through the stylish rooms. Standing in Justine’s bedroom, he closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of expensive perfume.
What was she doing now? Where was she headed next?
If he didn’t find her in the next twenty four hours, his search could very well become lengthy. He could freeze her assets, at least those he could find. But Justine was not the kind of person to keep all of her assets in easily accessible places. No Vampyre of any age would. Long-term survival was often based on a wide diversity of resources.