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“Nor would you,” Mikhail said with more confidence than he felt. “You still have not confided to me on what you are basing your theory that a human woman can produce a female child in good health.” He needed to know. He needed to believe as much as Gregori did.
This time Gregori’s silver eyes warmed into mercury, a self-mocking humor that wasn’t real shimmering for a brief moment. “Need. Pure need, my old friend.”
Mikhail’s eyes gleamed with answering humor. Need was as elemental as hunger. Even the earth itself needed. “If what you suspect is true, perhaps we need to conduct a search for likely candidates. We could take out single ads in newspapers across the world for all Carpathians.”
“Your woman would like that,” Gregori agreed.
Mikhail nodded. “She says we need to be brought into this century.” Mikhail’s laughter was genuine. “All my latest technology has failed to convince her that I am a modern man.” Without thought, his mind reached for Raven’s to share the joke.
Instantly Raven flooded his mind with her soft musical laughter. For a moment, the severity of his people’s problems slipped away, and he was surrounded by her love. Gregori’s silver eyes glittered ominously, dragging Mikhail back to their present dilemma.
He sighed softly and reiterated. “Raven has to feel I have reverence for human life.” He offered the explanation by way of an apology.
“You do,” Gregori snapped, his voice terse. “More than you probably should. You also have a responsibility to our people. Romanov is very dangerous to us. To leave him alive is to leave a time bomb ticking.”
“Yet to kill him would drive a huge wedge between Raven and me.”
Gregori heaved a sigh. “Take command of your woman, Mikhail. That is the best advice I can give you.”
“She needs to feel free.”
Gregori’s eyebrow shot up. “She is essential to the existence of our species. You need to keep her under tight protection.” He meant under control, and disapproval tinged his tone.
Mikhail burst out laughing. “I want to see you find a lifemate, Gregori, one like Raven. She will hold you in the palm of her hand.”
“If I ever find what you have, I will never allow her to risk herself. She will never go near danger, not even to feed. And she will not defy me.”
“You cannot keep a lifemate prisoner, Gregori.” There was a hint of amusement in Mikhail’s voice.
“She will do as she is told.”
Mikhail turned away to conceal his grin. Gregori had no idea how a woman could twist a man’s insides and make it impossible to breathe without her. If Gregori ever found his lifemate, he was in for a shock.
“How do you want to handle Romanov?” Gregori asked, changing the subject. “If you refuse to kill him, what do you want done with him?”
“We can have a talk with him and find out exactly what damage he has done to us. After that, we will have to ensure that no one takes anything he says seriously.”
“He reeks of drugs.”
Mikhail grimaced. “I fed well this night. Tainted blood will do me no harm.”
Gregori’s eyes glittered, a slash of menace. “You are the prince of our people. It is the duty of all of us to protect you and your woman from any potential harm.”
“If need be, you have the ability to lead in my place,” Mikhail reminded.
“I am no vessel, and you well know it.”
“But Jacques most likely is.”
Gregori turned his burning eyes fully on the prince. “There is no point to this discussion, Mikhail. You serve our people as the vessel. I am at your side for a reason, but do not ever forget what I am, or what the others you lead have the potential to become. Our males are of the darkness. Without our women, the other half of ourselves to provide the light, we become truly the vampires of the human legends.”
“It is unnecessary for you to remind me, Gregori. I had given up and had chosen eternal rest rather than become the hunted renegade preying on mortals and Carpathians alike.”
Gregori sighed. “We were born into a different age, where our natural predatory instincts could be channeled for the purpose of good. More and more of our males have turned vampire and must be brought to justice.”
Mikhail nodded his head. Many of their hunters—like Gregori—were born predators, but their skills were now used nearly exclusively for hunting their own kind. “Those turning vampire would try to save themselves with human women, not understanding it is their true other half they must seek, and in choosing to give up their soul, they have destroyed their chances.”
“Centuries is a long time to live alone in utter darkness,” Gregori said. “And with the whispers of temptation eating at us, the isolation becomes intolerable. Jacques is beyond the age, heading down the path of madness. Like me, it is only loyalty and remembered affection for you, our belief in you, that keeps us from becoming the true vampire. But Mikhail, without our women, that loyalty will not hold back the darkness forever.”
Mikhail wanted to voice an objection, but there was far too much truth in what Gregori said. Mikhail had battled the monster himself continually. A Carpathian male could only last so many centuries to tame the beast in him, to give him a reason for continuing his existence.
Mikhail sighed. “Let us just get this distasteful job done, Gregori.”
“Romanov must not see you, Mikhail,” Gregori said. “If he can never confirm he was right about you, then there will be no reason for anyone to believe his wild ramblings. I must be the one to take Romanov’s tainted blood if you insist on the continuation of his life.” Gregori was not asking.
Mikhail nodded his consent. The two Carpathians moved easily through the narrow halls of the psychiatric ward of the hospital. The humans experienced a cold sensation, nothing more, as the two passed unseen through the building.
They streamed through a lock hole, a flow of vapor like a heavy tinted fog, swirling through the room to wrap around Romanov’s body like a shroud. Romanov cried out, fear gripping him as the mist wound around him like a snake, slithering over his ribs, his wrist, curling around his neck and beginning to wind tighter and tighter. He could feel it on his skin, a vise that continued to twist his body like a corkscrew, but as Romanov clawed at the vapor, his hands passed right through it. Voices hissed hideously, whispered, threatened, so quiet as to be mere threads of sound in his head. He clapped his palms over his ears in an attempt to stop the insidious murmuring. Saliva dribbled from his slack mouth, and his throat worked convulsively.
The mist separated, one part trailing to a corner and hovering just above the floor. The other slowly thickened, shimmered, began to take shape, until it formed a muscular, broad-shouldered man with pale eyes of death. Rudy began to shake uncontrollably, backing into a corner, making himself as small as possible The apparition was too vivid, too menacing, to be anything but real.
“Romanov.” Gregori’s fangs gleamed white in the darkened room.
“Who are you? What are you?” The words came out a hoarse croak. Clearly, Rudy didn’t really want an answer. He just wanted the apparition to go away.
The pale eyes glittered, narrowed to unblinking slits. “You know what I am, Romanov. I am the very thing you accused your family’s enemy of being. That was so clever of you and your father, to get rid of an enemy by accusing him of being undead. Did you think I would just let you get away with it?”
“Are you real?”
Gregori’s answering smile was sinister.
“What are you going to do?” Fear amounting to terror shook Romanov’s voice.
The pale eyes stared into Rudy’s, stared deeply. Gregori’s voice dropped to a low black velvet assault. Hypnotic. Mesmerizing. Compelling. “Come to me, feed me. Become my servant until I see fit to give you the curse of darkness.”
There was dawning comprehension in Romanov’s eyes, horror, and what amounted to terror. But he inched closer, moving his shirt away from his jugular.
Gregori felt no pity for
this creature who would have burned Raven and Mikhail alive, who had condemned the Carpathian people to yet another witch hunt.
Gregori whispered again, his voice so seductive, so compelling, a tool of power. “You may have murdered two innocent people, Romanov, people of your God who offered you friendship. You belong with those of us of the night. You will serve me now, come at my bidding, inform me when I call.” He bent his dark head slowly, never touching the man, deliberately holding him helpless with his mind alone, allowing Rudy to feel his power.
Romanov knew his soul was lost. He could feel such power in the stranger, immense strength, and the ability to do things no human could imagine. Immortality. The seduction beckoned him. He went willingly, turning his head to expose his throat. Hot breath, piercing pain as the fangs sunk deep. Romanov could actually feel his life’s blood flowing like a river from his body. The pain was intense, a burning hell he was helpless to stop. Nor did he wish to. A curious languor swept over him, his eyelids far too heavy to lift.
The mist thickened in the room, wrapped around Gregori, streamed between the Carpathian and his prey. Reluctantly, with a growl of protest, Gregori lifted his head from his feeding and contemptuously allowed the limp body to slump to the floor.
“You nearly killed him,” Mikhail snapped.
He deserves death. He is rotten and empty inside, already corrupt. He wants endless nights, helpless women, the power of life and death over mankind. There is much in him like his grandfather and father. He is a hollow shell, with worms eating what good is left in him. His mind is a haze of deviant desire. And if you insist on championing him, I will add that most of his sicker thoughts involve sexual activity with your woman.
He cannot die this way, Gregori. It was a hiss in Gregori’s mind, a sign of Mikhail’s displeasure. As it is, we have enough attention directed at our people. If Romanov dies from severe blood loss . . .
I am not so careless. Gregori shoved the body aside with his foot. He will live. It was his grandfather that began this . . .
Mikhail frowned thoughtfully. His name was Rau; do you remember him? He was demented as an old man, vicious as a young one. He beat his wife and went after young girls. I stopped him once.
And earned not only his hatred but also his suspicion. He watched you after that. Spied on you every chance he got, hoping to find something to condemn you, Gregori reminded. You were popular with the villagers, and after you exposed his need for young girls, he despised you all the more.
I took care to age.
Apparently not enough. When you pretended to die and returned as your own grandson, he did not believe it. Something gave you away—a gesture, the way you spoke, who knows? He passed his suspicions on to Hans. Hans believed the tales his father told him. Perhaps he remembered you as a child himself, Gregori explained. In any case, Hans was as perverted as his father and you posed a threat to him. The villagers come to you for justice. Hans was also just as fanatical as his father. All these years he has been gathering evidence to convince the world that vampires exist and you are their leader.
Gregori gave the body another push with his foot. He filled his son’s head with the same suspicious nonsense, although Rudy considered himself more modern and thought his father crazy. Unfortunately, he has the same sick proclivities as his father and grandfather. Hans left him the legacy of a depraved mind along with all the evidence he had acquired throughout the years against you.
Rudy sent the evidence out into the world? You are certain of this?
Gregori shrugged. Hans Romanov sent the evidence out to several people who believed as he did. He mailed the copies to them and left instructions for Rudy to carry on his work should anything happen to him. The originals are in his house, under the floorboards in his parents’ bedroom.
Gregori watched dispassionately as Rudy Romanov roused enough to attempt to crawl away from him. Sooner or later they will come, and they will come for our people.
We will need to know of any immediate danger close to us.
Gregori reached down, fists clenching in Romanov’s shirt. Despite the fact that Romonov weighed a couple of hundred pounds, he was lifted easily, as if he were no more than a child. “Hear me, Romanov.”
Rudy’s eyelids fluttered and then lifted. It took a few minutes for him to realize he was dangling helplessly in the air with those unearthly pale eyes staring unblinkingly at him.
“You’re real.” Rudy’s voice was weak, and his body felt like lead.
“Tell me about Von Halen. Your father sent him Dubrinsky’s picture. As if a vampire could have his picture taken.” Gregori shook the man. “How can you be of worth to me if you are so stupid?”
“I can. I can.” Rudy hung helplessly, trying to form words, a coherent thought, to prove his worthiness. He couldn’t form another word, he was far too weak, but the information flooded his brain, and Gregori extracted it with the skill of a surgeon. When he had what he needed, he dropped Romanov with utter contempt onto the bed. The man bounced like a sack of potatoes and slid to the floor, where he lay moaning in a crumpled heap.
Gregori’s body wavered. Shimmered. Became translucent and then faded. Romanov gasped out loud and attempted to scramble back to the safety of his covers. The room was ice cold, his body even colder. Rudy shook so hard he was afraid he’d never be able to stop. Even his teeth chattered until they were in danger of disintegrating.
Mist swirled in the room, long snakelike ribbons of fog where the “vampire” had been. The vapor approached Romanov where he cowered close beneath the blankets, streamed close to his head, his throat, and then the mist poured from the room, leaving Romanov sobbing helplessly.
Mikhail and Gregori glided through the corridor, swiftly, silently, hurrying into the night’s freshness. After the depravity of Rudy’s mind, they needed the connection with the earth again. Once outside, Gregori forced the drugs through his pores to rid himself of the poison. Mikhail watched him do it, marveling at his ease. Gregori was quiet on the journey to Romanov’s cottage. Mikhail respected his need to breathe in the night’s scents, to feel the ground beneath his feet, hear the music of the wolves, the night creatures calling with their soothing rhythms.
In the safety of the Romanov home, Gregori made his way unerringly to the papers crudely hidden beneath the floorboards. Mikhail took the old photographs and the bundle of papers without even glancing at them. “Tell me everything in his mind.”
Gregori’s silver eyes glittered dangerously. “A man named Slovensky, Eugene Slovensky, is a member of a secret society dedicated to wiping out vampires. Von Halen, Anton Fabrezo, and Dieter Hodkins are the so-called experts who investigate and mark victims for kills. Slovensky recruits, and confirms and records kills. He is a very dangerous man, Mikhail. I think it will be necessary for me to get a look at his record book. Perhaps it is time for them to meet a real vampire.”
Mikhail swore softly, eloquently. “I should have killed him when I had the chance. We must investigate these men and find out all there is to know of them—who their friends are—just how large this secret society truly is. We will need descriptions or photographs so that all of our people will be on the alert. Another vampire hunt could destroy all of us.”
Gregori shrugged his massive shoulders. “I will hunt and destroy these men. You take Raven and go far from this place. I feel your protest, Mikhail, but it is the only way, and we both know it.”
Mikhail sighed heavily. “Raven will find the next years difficult. We will spend them looking over our shoulders, always on the run or the hunt.”
“I will investigate, Mikhail. No way, especially now when you have found a female perhaps capable of reproducing, can you take on this burden.”
Mikhail’s dark eyes pinned him. “You will not do this alone, Gregori. I am responsible for our people. It is not on you to do every difficult task to spare me.”
“We see our tasks differently.” Gregori shrugged. “One more death for the good of our species will not push m
e over the edge. You have far too many responsibilities, and I have too few. I am alone, Mikhail, with time to feel the enormity of the power we are capable of wielding. Enough time to resent having to hide in our own world. The endless years provide enough time to find contempt for those who hate what they do not understand. Your woman was right in saying our species does need to change with the times. If we are to survive, we can no longer do so without taking an active role in protecting our people.”
“Gregori, I am the instrument of justice,” Mikhail reminded.
“Our people cannot afford to lose you, or to risk your woman. The people look to you for wisdom and leadership. Both of us know the years ahead will be dark ones. I will be your instrument of justice. It is the only way for our people.”
“You may not survive such a choice, Gregori, and I will not trade my happiness for your soul.”
The silver eyes moved over Mikhail, then sought the night. “There are no other choices left to us. My only hope of salvation is a lifemate. I no longer feel, Mikhail, I fulfill my needs. There are no longer desires of the body, only of the mind. I cannot remember what it is to feel the things you feel. There is no joy in my life. I simply exist and do my duty toward our people. I must have a lifemate soon. I can only hold out a few more years, and then I must seek eternal rest. I cannot risk putting you in the position of hunting me.”
“You will not seek the sun, Gregori, not without coming to me first.” Mikhail held up his hand when Gregori would have protested. “I have been where you are, alone, the monster in me struggling for dominance, the stain on my soul dark. Our people need you more than any other. You must remain strong and fight the monster crouching so close. Raven has shown me there is hope for us.”
Gregori’s silver eyes glittered dangerously in the darkened room, pale and menacing—the eyes of death. “I am not the only Carpathian on the edge of madness. There are many others.”