.jpg)
His arrow hit the yellow eye dead center. It stared at him malevolently, wide open, the arrow protruding. The head rolled closer to him. He didn’t take his gaze from his target. When the eye rolled back up to the surface, he let lose the second arrow and just as quickly reloaded.
The head stilled, the eye open and staring, but now it appeared a faded yellow, hollow, with no real life or intelligence behind the glare. Still, Travis couldn’t tear his gaze away, fearing that the creature would come to life again. He was afraid to look behind him, fearing Zev wouldn’t be there and the headless body would be about to rip him to pieces with those terrible claws.
“Travis.” Zev’s soft voice reached him through the roaring in his ears. “Thank you. You killed it. We need to go back and help Jubal. If you need a minute, you can join the others in the safe room and let them know we’re almost done here. Jubal and I will clean up.”
Zev’s voice was that same calm, steady miracle of complete confidence. But he was moving up the stairs fast, a graceful, fluid exit, but an exit all the same. Travis was well aware the elite hunter was making certain Jubal was still alive and had killed the last of the hellhounds. He didn’t want to be left alone in the same room with the macabre two-headed beast, even though it appeared dead. He wasn’t about to open the safe room door until he was absolutely certain it was safe to do so. He ran after Zev.
Zev hated to leave the boy after he’d shown so much bravery, and was happy to hear his footsteps as Travis raced after him, but his mind was already on the fiends from hell trying to get to the children. There had been five of them. He’d killed the leader. The two-headed monster was dead. The two hounds that collided together had been slain as well. That left one. They’d been lucky. Jubal had good aim, and so had Paul and Travis. The oil had come in handy. Without it, the beasts would come at them again and again, in spite of the arrows. There was no other real way to kill the hellhound without the oil. It acted like poison to them.
Zev burst out onto the porch, ready for anything—other than the scene in front of him. Paul and Jubal sat on the ground a few inches from a dead hellhound, both laughing almost hysterically. They looked up as he approached. The hound and both men were covered in oil and puddles of it lay on the ground.
“Were either of you hurt? Bitten? Clawed? Did you get any blood on you?”
“No,” Jubal said. He looked at Paul and they broke into laughter again. “We’re just covered, ready for the fryer. How about you?”
Zev let the tension drain out of him, although he was fairly certain the two men were bordering on hysteria. “I’m covered in oil as well.” He sank down onto the ground beside them and surveyed the four massive bodies. “So are they. What did you do?”
Paul grinned and wiped his face with the back of his hand, smearing more oil. “I kept throwing buckets of the stuff at it while Jubal kept shooting. Eventually, the darn thing went down, but it took about ten arrows and five full buckets of the stuff. I can’t believe you managed to conjure up a replenishing container of oil.”
Travis came and sat down between Paul and Zev. He looked at the three men. “I’d much rather fight a vampire,” he declared with a small shudder.
“You’re not alone in that,” Paul agreed.
“We’ve got a mess to clean up,” Zev said. “Although I think I’m feeling a little sleepy.”
Jubal threw a handful of dirt at him. “Don’t even think about running out on us.”
Zev yawned. “Really. The sun is getting to me.”
“We’ll get to you,” Paul declared, making a move as though he might tackle Zev.
Zev was too fast, leaping to his feet, nearly skidding in the oil. “Fine. I’ll help. But you two made a mess.”
“We saved the day,” Jubal announced solemnly. “We were discussing medals of valor.”
Zev’s eyebrow shot up. “Medals?” he repeated, as if he wasn’t certain what that was.
“Of valor,” Paul said. “Trav can get in on it, too. We even designed one.” He looked at Jubal and the two of them roared with laughter.
Zev shook his head. “Young Travis, this is clearly a side effect of getting too close to one of the hellhounds. Their brains are addled.”
Travis nodded. “I can see that. We’d better leave them to it and clean up downstairs so the kids can get out of the safe room. They’ll be frightened.”
They turned away and Paul yelped in panic. “Wait! You can’t leave. You have to burn all this.”
Turning back, Zev laughed at the stricken faces of Jubal and Paul. Even Travis laughed with him. “I notice I get the work and you get the medals.” He called down the lightning and directed it over the bodies, incinerating them and the black, shiny blood that had spread throughout the yard.
“As it should be,” Paul muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Zev to hear.
A whip of lightning struck a few feet from Paul’s feet, getting the last of the blood from the ground. Paul practically leapt over the top of Jubal to get away from the sizzling tip.
“I’m telling Branislava on you,” he called out, using the last resort he had to even the odds.
19
An unholy mist crept through the forest, weaving through the trees close to the ground. Tendrils rose from the foot-high bank of fog, long tentacles inching through brush and leaves to wind like snakes and climb higher into the tree trunks. A strange odor of burning sulfur accompanied the dense vapor. The smell was faint, yet wildlife shied away from the creeping mist, whirling around when it approached and running as if their very lives were in danger.
A wolf sank down onto its haunches and lifted its muzzle skyward, emitting a long warning note. Another joined it.
To me now! Dimitri ordered the two alphas sharply. Hurry. Skyler, move it. We have no time. Zev! Fen! We’re surrounded. The wolves are calling, can you hear the warning?
Dimitri held out his arms for his wolves to leap aboard. They came running out of the deeper forest to leap at him. He felt the jolt as they shifted at the last moment. The little alpha female was getting it, but she still hit him harder than necessary. He reprimanded her automatically, reminding her to shift a little faster.
Skyler’s wolf Moonglow rushed toward them and she turned, arms wide, to make it easier for her to leap aboard. Dimitri kept his eyes on the fog as it inched its way toward the clearing where the ceremony to send Arno and his son Arnau off with honors was taking place.
He couldn’t describe it as mist any longer—the matter was far too dense and gave off an eerie, flickering, yellowish-gray glow. He signaled Skyler to start moving, back in the direction of the clearing. The fog was taking over the forest and he didn’t want her or the wolves in it.
Wolves began howling from various positions in the forest. Skyler gasped and reached for his hand. “The wild ones are warning us to get out,” she interpreted.
Dimitri lifted his head and howled back, emitting a series of notes and cries, perfectly pitched like a wolf, responding to the warnings of the wild wolves.
Ivory and Razvan came from the direction of the west, their wolves already riding on both of them. “Are you two all right?” Razvan asked, looking Skyler over carefully.
Skyler nodded. “One of my wolves, Frost, hasn’t returned yet. Dimitri called them in.”
“I’ve told the wild ones to get out of this part of the forest and avoid the fog,” Dimitri said. “They knew, they were warning us, but I wanted to make certain they understood how dangerous it is.”
Razvan indicated the yellowish vapor. “It appears to be climbing the trees. Look how it wraps around the trunk and goes up. It goes up the trees it touches before it creeps forward again along the forest floor.”
Ivory and Skyler stepped toward the fog, both determined to find the missing wolf. Dimitri caught Skyler’s arm to halt her.
“He’ll come back or he won’t, csitri, but you can’t get near that stuff. If every animal in the forest is running away from it, you have to heed the
warnings.”
Ivory had halted as well, looking back at Razvan as if he’d communicated with her privately. Her long lashes hid her expression but she dropped her chin and shook her head. Razvan put his arm around her briefly as if comforting her.
“We can’t just leave him,” Skyler protested.
“You knew from the beginning we could lose the wolves,” Dimitri said, his tone gentle, but brooking no argument. “You can’t sacrifice your life hunting a stray. This fog is dangerous. We’ve got to go.”
“He’ll come back. He always strays too far, but he comes back,” Skyler said, leaning into Dimitri for a moment. “I’ve reprimanded him over and over but he just seems to get lost when he runs free, meaning he loses track of time and what he’s supposed to be doing.”
Insects poured out of the ground, running ahead of the fog as it continued to move toward the clearing. Ants, termites, beetles, every insect that sought refuge in the ground or fallen trees, turned the vegetation into a living carpet,
Dimitri tugged at Skyler’s hand. “We’re leaving now.”
Skyler hesitated. “Dimitri, the air feels heavier, almost as if there is a dark spell hidden with the fog.” She looked at her birth father. “Do you feel it?”
Razvan nodded. “Nature has been twisted and bent to another’s desire.”
“But more,” Skyler speculated. “It’s more than that. It’s darker. Evil. As if there are things wrought within the fog that come from another realm.”
Dimitri held up his hand for silence. He kept catching small murmurs, sounds, yet the others clearly couldn’t hear. He shook his head and took two steps back as the fog inched closer.
Frost came running from the direction Ivory and Razvan had come at a frantic pace, eyes a little wild. Dimitri held his arms out and the errant wolf leapt for the safety of his alpha’s back.
“There’s something in the fog, moving, talking. I can hear it,” Dimitri told the others. “It’s not only climbing the trees, but as it gets closer to the edge of the forest it’s building height on the ground as well. Let’s get back to the clearing and help get everyone out of there.”
Gregori, get the prince to safety. There is something out here beyond my knowledge, but there is no doubt it is dangerous. Whatever it is, it’s heading your way. It’s moving slow, but hidden within there is something evil. Dimitri sent the warning ahead of them, tasking Gregori with getting their prince to safety.
Gregori Daratrazanoff sighed heavily. Mikhail had attended the honor ceremony for Arno and his son as any good diplomat would. The Lycans insisted, in spite of all the warnings, that the fallen council member had to have a full ceremony, and be sent off with honor. Instead of holding the funeral the following rising, Rolf had insisted on preparing the ground and waiting three days and nights. No amount of arguing had changed his mind.
“You heard Dimitri. I have to get you out of here, Mikhail. Dimitri is warning Zev and he’ll do his best to persuade the Lycans to leave, but you can’t take the chance.”
“Do you know how many times you say that to me?” Mikhail asked with a small sigh.
“You’ve given your speech and paid your respects,” Gregori said. “Already the children were attacked. Had Zev not been Dark Blood, we could have lost them. Our last defense is you. You know that. Better to protect our children than to stay and protect the Lycans when they’re insisting on staying. If things get bad here, we can send reinforcements.”
“What is he up to, this Xaviero? Why would he suddenly reveal himself to all of us? The brothers hid among our different species and did their damage in secret. What is so important that they keep coming at us? Clearly Lycans and Carpathians are not going to go to war with one another. He can’t wipe us out, not here. We’re spread out over the world. We need the answer to this, Gregori. Whatever Xaviero wants is too important for us not to know about it.”
Mikhail rose with obvious reluctance. He signaled Zev over to them. “Dimitri has warned you?”
Zev took a deep breath and let it out, nodding his head. There were very few times when he had clashed with Rolf, head of the Lycan council, but Rolf had insisted on sending off Arno and his son with honor. He insisted on waiting the prescribed three days so those far away could make the journey. That just gave Xaviero all the more time to prepare. After the attack on the children, Zev was absolutely certain Xaviero would strike at the service. He’d been right. He hated being right.
“Yes. I’ve talked to Rolf numerous times and he refuses to listen. I tried to tell Rolf it wasn’t safe for anyone to be here, but he pointed out the large number of Lycans and Carpathians who have come to pay their respects. He thinks there is an army here and no need to leave.”
“Perhaps if I spoke to him again,” Mikhail offered. He had already done so once, after their children had been attacked. Clearly Xaviero was not going to stop until he reached his goal—whatever that was.
Zev shook his head. “This ceremony is ingrained deep in our culture. It’s important to all Lycans and especially Rolf. He is head of the council. Arno is a fallen council member, murdered by an enemy. He will stay here alone if necessary.”
From the moment he’d entered the clearing, Zev had known something was terribly wrong. The feeling in the very soil bothered him. The air. He felt uneasy and trapped. He’d gone to Rolf immediately and tried to get him to at least change the location of the ceremony, but the ground had been purified and the pyre already built.
Zev had argued that the feeling in his gut was never wrong and had kept him alive all these long years—more, that he had expected Xaviero to strike at them. Rolf had actually turned his back on Zev and stormed away, refusing to listen to reason.
“Still, I have to try,” Mikhail said, ignoring Gregori’s slashing silver eyes.
He made his way through the crowd of Lycans to reach the head of the council. A man, one of many who had come that Mikhail had never seen before, was speaking from the podium. He wore a long brown robe with a hood and spoke in a soft, carrying tone. He looked grief-stricken as he spoke of Arno and the fallen elite hunter. Not only did he look devastated, but he projected such sorrow that even Mikhail felt desolate.
He nearly turned back, aware that the Lycans were all grieving for the much-beloved council member and his son, but Gregori was waiting, arms folded across his chest, his silver gaze impossible to ignore. Rolf rose reluctantly when Mikhail gestured to him and they found a small space off to one side.
“Rolf.” Mikhail pitched his voice low. “We’re getting reports of trouble heading this way. The consensus from our most experienced warriors is that we should leave immediately. I agree with their assessment. We need to start getting everyone to safety.”
Swift annoyance crossed Rolf’s face and he glanced over at Zev, as if the elite hunter had been the one to irritate him. His features settled into his usual calm mask when he looked back at the prince of the Carpathian people.
“Zev had no right to ask you to come and talk to me,” he said, his teeth snapping together, revealing the wolf lurking close to the surface.
“He didn’t ask me,” Mikhail countered. “My security people did. Zev explained that this ceremony was important to the Lycans and I respect that. I respected Arno. But you and I are responsible for our people, and I thought you would want to know that time is of the essence. We have to get everyone to safety.”
Rolf’s mouth tightened. “Perhaps you’ve never gone into war zones, but I have many times during my career as a council member for my people. We accept the risks.”
“For yourself,” Mikhail agreed. “But for so many others? Look at the number of Lycans who have come from so many places to pay their respects. They’re in jeopardy as well.”
“Arno served these people for well over a hundred years. He deserves their respect and the honor of their presence. He was a highly decorated and revered member of the Sacred Circle. He believed in the old ways and codes of honor. This was his way. This is his belief. I will
not dishonor him because I am afraid for my life,” Rolf said firmly. “Nor will any Lycan. I do appreciate you coming, but this is a Lycan matter and you and your people must do as you see fit. We will stay.” He whirled around and stormed back to his place in the front of the Lycan packs, his shoulders square and his jaw set stubbornly.
Mikhail glanced at Gregori. There was no getting around the Lycan council leader. He had made up his mind and there would be no changing it. Rolf was not only grief-stricken; he was weighed down with guilt.
“Put the word out to our people. There is trouble coming and we’re leaving.”
“Zev isn’t going to leave the Lycans,” Gregori said. “He’s been their protection for years and it won’t matter that Rolf is being stubborn about this. Zev was born into their culture and, although from a protection standpoint he’d like to get them all out of here, he understands. His brothers will stand with him. Ivory and Razvan as well.”
Mikhail nodded. “I would expect nothing less. If it wasn’t for my responsibilities to our people, I’d stand with them as well. Xavier nearly pushed our species into extinction. Xayvion has nearly done so with the Jaguar race. Xaviero is determined to ruin the Lycans. They have to be stopped.”
Gregori inched Mikhail away from the Lycans. Two more council members had come to honor Arno and with them, their guards. Leaders or representatives of many other packs had arrived as well. Gregori used the common Carpathian path to warn their warriors of the coming danger Dimitri and Skyler had observed in the forest.
Mikhail and Gregori made their way to Zev. Mikhail shook his head sadly when Zev raised an eyebrow. He stepped forward and gripped Zev’s forearms in the traditional way of Carpathian warriors. He was pleased when Zev instinctively gripped his. “You are prepared?”
Zev nodded slowly. “We’ve tried to think of everything that might be thrown at us. I think we’re as prepared as we can be.” Who could ever be fully prepared for mage magic? Not just any mage, but a High Mage?
The sense of urgency in him was growing. He wanted Mikhail gone, far away from the clearing and the fog Dimitri had warned him of. If nearly all Carpathians were wiped out, there would be hope as long as Mikhail lived. Mikhail might chafe the bonds that held him prisoner of his people occasionally, but he knew his duties and Zev could see that he wouldn’t argue with either him or Gregori. He was leaving.