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“You are the strongest, the most knowledgeable.”
“Do not overestimate my affection or loyalty. I must have a mate. If I feel something, anything—lust, possession, anything—I will take what is mine and dare anyone to take her from me.”
Mikhail’s eyes narrowed. “You speak as if you have precog.”
Gregori looked around the Romanovs’ cabin, and abruptly his large frame shimmered, dissolving into water crystals, and streamed from the house out into the welcoming arms of the night. Let us leave this house of madness and death. Perhaps it is the tainted blood I took into my body speaking.
With a sigh, Mikhail followed Gregori into the night. The twin ribbons of vapor glinted in the moonlight, joined the tendrils of fog rippling several feet above the forest floor. Mikhail moved with Gregori, knowing the other man allowed the night to brush away the disgust he felt at being in close proximity with a man as warped and depraved as Hans Romanov and his son. The tainted blood, blood Carpathians rarely touched, was more likely causing Gregori’s body to rebel against such an insult. Although he had pushed it out through his pores, some residue might have remained. He was fighting his own natural inclinations and the darker side of his nature. Tainted blood would not help.
Intellectually, Mikhail knew Gregori was right in all the things he’d said. He knew Gregori had saved Raven, and, in doing so, saved Mikhail as well. He had also this night, by taking Rudy Romanov’s blood rather than forcing Mikhail to kill the man or take the blood himself, saved both Raven and Mikhail an untold amount of grief. But the fact remained that Gregori was assuming risks to his sanity—risks he could ill afford—risks that were Mikhail’s.
Mikhail needed Raven, needed her brightness and innocence to remove the disturbing memories of this night’s work. Anxious to return to her, Mikhail streamed through the trees toward the clearing that separated the houses from the deep forest. As he flowed past the priest’s cabin and into the meadow, his mind rippled with uneasiness. The warning jarred enough that he retreated back to Father Hummer’s home and, in the shelter of the trees, took back his human form.
With the strange tension growing, he reached out to touch Raven’s mind to ensure she was safe. She appeared to be teasing Jacques, both working hard to keep the other from worry. Nothing appeared to threaten her.
“What is it?” Gregori materialized beside Mikhail.
“I do not know. Do you feel it?”
Mikhail couldn’t put his finger on what “it” was, exactly. They both scanned the immediate area for danger. Finding nothing tangible, but still uneasy, Mikhail remained still, blending into the night itself, absorbing the very rhythm. He listened to the creatures, the insects, and tested the breeze for information. Trees, bushes, the vegetation covering the ground, even the very soil beneath his feet, all gave up scents, clues, entire stories to him. Beside him, Gregori was as motionless, doing the exact same thing.
It was the soil that told of violence—trampling boots, droplets of blood. Mikhail raised stricken eyes to Gregori’s pale ones, and they both turned simultaneously to look at the cabin of his old friend.
“I will go first,” Gregori said, with as much compassion as he was capable of interjecting into his voice.
Mikhail closed his eyes briefly in denial. “He was my friend.”
“You would know if he were dead,” Gregori pointed out.
Mikhail shook his head. “In all the years of our friendship, I never took his blood.”
Gregori’s head went up, his silver eyes glittering with reprimand.
“I know. I knew you would object to my decision, but somehow it seemed disrespectful. I can touch his mind because I know him so well, but there is no blood bond between us. I have never monitored him, nor does he have a psychic ability. I let him know that I am coming to visit in the old-fashioned way, although I have given him some modern inventions such as a pager, but the range is short. Once, recently, I asked if he would look after Raven for me. I knew she would have a difficult time, and I asked him to spend the hours of daylight with her.”
Mikhail reached behind him to find a solid tree trunk. He needed to feel its strength when his world was spinning out of control. “It is possible I inadvertently placed him in danger by asking him to watch over her.” He looked at Gregori. “He was eighty-three years old. His aura was always bright, the white light reflecting the purity of his heart and soul. In the middle of the night, as cold as it often was, he answered my call without hesitation or question. I wanted him to perform the human ceremony to join Raven to me. It would have pleased both of them. He brought me comfort and peace when my life was a torment.”
“You are so certain of his death?”
Gregori once again scanned the cabin for life and knew there was a stench of blood, the lingering malevolence of violence, but no life form. He stepped smoothly between Mikhail and the entrance to the priest’s home.
“It is not reasonable to presume an eighty-year-old mortal could survive an attack,” Mikhail answered grimly.
“It is not logical to presume anything,” Gregori reminded as he glided up onto the porch. “We must deal in fact, Mikhail, not emotions. That is our way of life.”
“Be careful, it may be a trap. They rigged a camera to go off when the door opened at Noelle and Rand’s home,” Mikhail warned.
“Let them come after me,” Gregori taunted. “I am not a helpless woman who has just given birth, nor am I trapped in the ground, about to give birth. I have no close associations among our people to cast suspicions on other than you, and you are already suspect. The hunters will become the prey.” There was supreme confidence in Gregori’s voice, even an eagerness to begin the battle.
“It is not a game,” Mikhail reprimanded as he reluctantly mounted the stairs. The scent of the blood was easy to identify up close now—and it belonged to the priest.
Gregori hit the door with the palm of his hand, splintering the heavy oak, staying well to the side of the entrance. A shotgun blast was loud, echoing into the night. The trap could have been sprung by any one of the villagers.
“That will bring the good citizens running,” Gregori said drily.
Mikhail shot him another look of reprimand. “It would have been a tragedy if one of them had opened the door, unsuspecting of the danger.”
“Have you learned nothing of mortals over the centuries? They fear and loathe what they do not understand. They destroy each other using anything for an excuse. They abuse their women and children. These villagers who have known you, who have been your friends, would tear both you and your woman apart at the first hint of the truth.”
“Some,” Mikhail agreed quietly.
Gregori entered the house cautiously, every sense alert. The neat little cabin, so comfortable and homey, had been destroyed, ransacked. The simple furniture was broken, the curtains askew, old pottery dishes smashed. The priest’s precious books had been torn, his pictures slashed to ribbons. Father Hummer’s herbs, so carefully kept in tins, lay in a heap on the floor of the kitchen. His thin mattress was in scraps, his blankets shredded.
“What were they looking for?” Mikhail mused aloud, wandering around the room. He stooped to pick up a rook, curling his fingers around the familiar chess piece. There were bloodstains on the floor, on the old carved rocking chair. Grief welled up, sharp and clear.
Mikhail? Raven was there in his mind, instantly flooding him with warmth and comfort. Do you need me?
He would always need her, but right now, more than anything, he had to know she was safe. Stay close to Jacques. Both of you stay alert for any danger. Do not trust anyone. Scan around you continually.
Are you in danger? There was the merest quiver in her voice.
Gregori is with me. He wasn’t altogether certain that didn’t fall under the heading of misleading her, but she’d been through enough.
What of Gregori, is he hurt? You’re very upset. She could feel Mikhail’s grief and wondered at it.
He is well
. Do as I ask, little one. It is important.
Mikhail felt her acceptance. Just to be doubly safe, he sent a quick message to Jacques, warning him of possible danger and alerting him to what they had found.
“She is well?” Gregori asked.
“Jacques knows to watch over her. She asked about you.”
Gregori’s eyebrow shot up. He doubted that anyone had inquired about his health, not in centuries, other than Mikhail. He didn’t respond to the statement, unsure of what to think about another being including him in their circle.
“Did the priest know what you are, Mikhail? And do not pretend to misunderstand. He knew you were considered a prince to your people, but did he know of your species?”
“Are you implying Father Hummer would betray me?”
“Against all that is logical, you embraced his church. Did you confess to him?”
“That is none of your business, Gregori.”
“I would have killed him myself if I thought he had knowledge that would endanger you,” Gregori warned. He looked around him. “There is no body,” Gregori pointed out unnecessarily.
He reached down and picked up a very old leather-bound Bible. The book was well worn, the leather shiny where the priest’s fingers had so often held it.
“Where there is stench, there is a trail.” Gregori handed Mikhail the Bible, watching as their prince wordlessly slipped the book under his shirt, against his skin.
“The villagers are approaching.” Mikhail could hear the running footsteps, much closer now. Two men in front, three others about a yard behind. “We must leave this place now.”
Seventeen
Gregori’s broad, muscular frame bent, crackled. Glossy fur rippled along his arms, claws burst from his fingernails, and fangs exploded into a lengthening muzzle. The huge black wolf was already springing for the window, changing on the run. Mikhail followed, leaping through the trees, circling back, nose to the ground.
Torches bobbed in the night. The villagers were almost to the cabin. Mikhail, in the shape of a wolf, turned his back on them and sniffed the ground, searching for the scent of evil. The trail led away from town toward the deep forest, but in the opposite direction from his province, climbing higher and higher into the mountains. Whoever had taken Father Hummer wanted to be alone with him to do his dirty work.
The direction thankfully took them away from Raven and Jacques. Mikhail breathed a sigh of relief at that. He had been worried that the assassins would be rushing to find her.
Mikhail and Gregori raced at a ground-eating run, shoulder to shoulder, dark deadly purpose in their hearts. They ran noses to the wind, lowering their muzzles occasionally to the narrow, winding trail to assure themselves that they were following the priest’s scent. Their powerful muscles rippled along their backs, their hearts and lungs working like well-oiled machines. Animals scurried out of their path, hunkered down in terror at their passing.
A pungent, unfamiliar odor marked a tree on their present course. Mikhail broke stride. They had crossed the boundaries of Mikhail’s wolf pack and entered another’s territory. Wolves frequently attacked and killed intruders. It wasn’t that he was worried for himself or for Gregori, but if he could not control the alpha pair immediately, it could very well delay their progress. Night only held so many hours, and he could not afford to be separated from Raven for too long after her recent ordeal.
Mikhail swung his shoulder into Gregori and they veered slightly from the path to better protect themselves from a surprise attack. He sent out a call, allowing the wind to carry their message in an attempt to locate the dominant pair.
With the smell of the priest’s blood and the stench of heavy boots, it was fairly easy to follow the trail. Occasionally, a small smear of blood on a leaf or a bright ruby red droplet on a rock pointed the way. A strange uneasiness began to grow in Mikhail. Something was eluding him. Something was not quite right. They had covered miles at a dead run, yet the trail never changed. The scent was not fresher, not fading, simply the same.
I do not like this, Gregori. Something is definitely wrong. We should have been close to them by now, but it’s as if . . .
A slight noise above them was their only warning, a curious grinding like rock against rock. They were in a narrow ravine, with steep walls rising on either side. Mikhail leapt to his right, throwing his weight against Gregori, slamming the larger wolf against the rock wall as a large boulder crashed down onto the path where they had been. Both wolves immediately dissolved, became tiny droplets of fog. The shower of rocks and boulders from overhead pelted uselessly through the insubstantial mist.
Simultaneously, Mikhail and Gregori launched themselves skyward, bodies forming as they landed with catlike grace on the cliff above them. There was no priest and certainly no attacker. Mikhail glanced uneasily at Gregori. “No human could have done this.” They separated, the oldest of their kind, the most powerful, by far the most dangerous. Mikhail again reached for Raven to assure himself she was safe. Her carefree laughter echoed in his mind and warmed him.
“The priest did not walk this distance, and no mortal carried him,” Gregori said thoughtfully. “His blood was used as a trap then, to draw us here.” Both were scanning, using every natural weapon they possessed. “This is the work of a vampire.”
“He is clever enough not to leave his own scent for us. The priest was hurt deliberately because he was my friend,” Mikhail observed.
“This vampire commands the wolves,” Gregori concluded. His fangs gleamed white in the darkness. “He is cunning, our opponent. He set you up, Mikhail.”
“He is vampire, yet he must have known of the evidence in Romanov’s house. He knew we would go to Romanov in the hospital, find out what evidence he had, and go to his cabin to retrieve the originals.”
“In doing so, we would pass the house of the priest,” Gregori said.
Mikhail frowned. “Is it possible that he is somehow in contact with these assassins? Could he hide what he is in order to use them for his own purposes?”
“If that is so, Mikhail, if a vampire had that kind of restraint, that he could mix with humans and lead them to us through someone fanatical such as Hans Romanov, we are in more trouble than any of us realized.”
“Could he have supplied Hans with his proof?” Mikhail speculated aloud.
“A conspiracy, then? Between vampire and humans?” Gregori frowned even as he shook his head in denial. “Who would be powerful enough to keep the vampires from falling on their human allies and killing them? I have never come across a vampire who could manage to keep his hunger under control.”
Mikhail inhaled sharply. “The wolves come.”
“They refuse my orders, Mikhail. The pack is in a killing frenzy, my friend, and it is you they hunt.”
“Who is he? He is clever enough not to leave his own scent for us,” Mikhail observed.
“The priest’s blood and stench from the human’s boots is an interesting disguise,” Gregori sounded intrigued. “Go, Mikhail, I will deal with his wolves.”
“Neither of us needs to deal with them,” Mikhail said sharply. “Let us go. We must unravel this mystery before dawn.”
“I disagree. There is every need to deal with his servants. He uses them as weapons against his own kind. He expects us to fly away and leave his kingdom intact and unharmed. He is a true vampire, Mikhail, and he is trying to destroy you. There is no turning him back. No one can save him, as you well know. I will leave nothing for him to return to. He will be sent a clear message that I will never tolerate an attack against our prince. Others like him will hear of this night and think before they send their servants after you.”
“You are deliberately angering him to draw him out,” Mikhail said. “I do not want you to take a risk that is rightfully mine.”
Gregori whirled around, staring with slashing pale eyes into the darkness of the forest. “It is my right to protect you. My right and my duty. In this you have no say.”
“Greg
ori . . . ,” Mikhail began, his heart sinking.
“It is too late.”
Gregori leapt to place his body between Mikhail’s and the forest as a pack of wolves boiled from the trees, red eyes fixed on Mikhail. Snarling and snapping, the animals sprang for the tall, elegant figure standing with casual grace so close to the edge of the cliff. Gregori was a whirling demon, flinging animals down the ravine, snapping bones as if they were matchsticks. He never made a sound, and his speed was supernatural—so fast he seemed to blur, impossible to actually see him in motion.
Mikhail never moved from his spot, sadness filling his soul. Such a waste of life. A tragedy. Gregori was able to destroy life so easily, with no feeling, no regret. That told Mikhail, more than anything, just how desperate his people’s plight really was. Carpathians revered nature, and felt a bond with all living creatures, yet Gregori destroyed an entire wolf pack with apparent ease.
The alpha male charged Mikhail while the female circled around in an attempt to get behind him. Gregori materialized in the alpha’s path so that the large wolf hit him hard in the chest. The blow should have sent Gregori tumbling backward, but it didn’t even rock his frame. His hands closed around the wolf’s neck, thumbs digging hard into the throat even as he held the animal’s snapping muzzle away from him.
The female changed directions, rushing to the aid of her mate. Gregori spun around, taking the large male with him, knocking the female’s body away by the wolf in his hands. The air around them was charged with energy, and above their heads, the dark clouds shimmered with silver streaks.
Lightning forked, streaking down to strike a tree just to the left of them, the trunk exploding, flames shooting fiery leaves into the air. They fell like rain on the female wolf, and she shrieked and leapt away. Lightning slammed to earth a second time, and she dissolved into a blackened mass of fur. Gregori snapped the neck of the animal desperate to get past him in order to attack the prince. He dropped the wolf and turned to face the man he protected.
“You take too many chances,” Gregori growled in reprimand, materializing beside Mikhail. “They were programmed to destroy you. You should have made certain you removed yourself from harm’s way.”