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“Ot ekäm ainajanak hany, jama—my brother’s body is a lump of earth, close to death.”
Ancient language, as old as time, flooded the chamber. Gregori’s voice was beautiful yet commanding as he began the greater healing chant of their people. Mikhail joined in, chanting the ancient words while Gregori shed his own body to begin the spiritual journey of healing.
No one had a voice like Gregori’s. Beautiful, hypnotic, mesmerizing. The ritual chant provided an anchor in the uncertain sea in which Jacques was floating. Rich soil mixed with Gregori’s saliva was a collar around the wounded Carpathian’s neck. Gregori’s blood, old and powerful beyond measure, flowed in Jacques’s starved veins. Gregori crushed and mixed herbs, adding them to the mixture around Jacques’s neck.
“I repaired the damage from the inside out. He is weak, Mikhail, but his will is strong. If we put him deep within the earth and give him time, he will heal.” Gregori pushed a poultice into Mikhail’s hand. “Put that on your eyes. It will help until we get you in the ground.”
Gregori was right. The poultice was soothing, a cool ice melting the fire. But somewhere deep inside another nightmare was starting. A yawning, black, empty hole that began to stretch, to crawl through him, whispering dark, insane thoughts. No matter how many times his mind reached for Raven’s, he found emptiness. Intellect told him she was in a deep sleep, but his Carpathian blood cried out for her touch.
“You need to go to ground now,” Gregori pointed out. “I will fix the safeguards and ensure we are not disturbed.”
“With a big sign saying ‘Gregori lies here, do not disturb’?” Mikhail asked softly, his voice a warning.
Gregori lowered Jacques’s body deep within the healing earth, in no way disturbed by Mikhail’s sarcasm.
“You may as well have written your name in the sky with your challenge, Gregori.”
“I want the vampire to be very clear about who I am, whom he has chosen for his enemy.” Gregoni’s shoulders shrugged in a lazy ripple of power.
Need crawled along Mikhail’s skin like a thousand biting ants, stinging his organs and gnawing at his sinews. He raised red, swollen eyes to Gregori’s harsh, yet curiously sensual features. There was such power in Gregori—it blazed in the silver of his eyes. “You think with Raven that I am complete and no longer have need of you. You deliberately draw the danger to yourself, away from me and mine, because in your heart you believe you can no longer hold out. You welcome the danger of the hunt, and you are seeking a way to end this life. Now, more than ever, our people need you, Gregori. We have hope. There is a future for us if we can survive the coming years.”
Gregori sighed heavily, looked away from the steel in Mikhail’s eyes, the censure blazing there. “There is purpose in saving your life, but for me, not much else.”
Mikhail pushed a hand through his thick mane of hair. “Our people cannot do without you, Gregori, and quite simply, neither can I.”
“You are so certain that I will not turn?” Gregori’s smile was self-mocking. “Your faith in me exceeds my own. This vampire is ruthless, drunk on his own power. He craves the killing, the destruction. I walk the line of that madness every day. His power is nothing, a feather in the wind compared to mine. I have no heart, and my soul is dark. I do not want to wait until I cannot make my own choice. The one thing I do not want is to force you to seek me out to destroy me. My life has been my belief in you, in protecting you. I will not wait until I must be hunted.”
Mikhail waved a tired hand to open the earth above his brother. “You are our greatest healer, the greatest asset to our people.”
“That is why they whisper my name in fear and dread.”
Beneath their feet the ground suddenly shook, heaved and bucked, rolling perilously. The center of the earthquake was obviously a great distance away, but there was no mistaking the howl of rage produced by a powerful vampire at the destruction of his lair.
The undead had entered his lair confidently, until he found the body of the first wolf. Each turn or passage entrance was marked with one of his minions, until his entire pack lay dead at his feet. The burned bodies of his sentinels, the bats, lay in a mound of blackened ashes. Fear turned to terror. It would not be Mikhail, whose sense of justice and fair play would be his downfall, but the dark one. Gregori—the most feared of all Carpathians.
It had not occurred to the vampire that the dark one might take a hand in this game. Andre hurtled himself from the safety of his favorite lair just as the mountain heaved and the chamber walls collapsed in on themselves. Cracks widened in the narrow passageway, and the rock faces inched closer and closer together. The clap of granite grinding against granite nearly burst his eardrums.
A true vampire making numerous kills was far more susceptible to the sun, and to the terrible lethargy that claimed Carpathian bodies in the day. Andre had little time to find a safe hole. As he burst from the collapsing mountain, the sun hit his body, and he screamed with the agony of it. Dust and rock spewed from his home, and the echo of Gregori’s taunting laughter drifted down with the debris from the earthquake.
“No, Gregori.” There was amusement in Mikhail’s soft voice as he floated into the soothing arms of the earth. “That is a good example of why they whisper your name in fear and dread. No one understands your dark humor the way I do.”
“Mikhail?”
Mikhail stayed the hand closing the blanket of soil over him.
“I would not endanger you or Jacques with my challenge. The vampire cannot get through my safeguards.”
“I have never feared Andre. And I know your spells are strong. I think our friend has his own problems finding somewhere to rest out of the sun. He will not be disturbing us this day.”
Father Hummer walked the circuit of the rock walls surrounding them for the twentieth time. There were no windows, and their prison seemed heavily constructed, the walls so thick, he was certain they were soundproof. No light penetrated the walls, and the complete darkness was oppressive. He had no idea whether it was day or night. Time crept by until he couldn’t mark the hours.
The priest piled every blanket available over Raven’s ice-cold body, but he was certain she had died from loss of blood. He could not detect a pulse or breath and had been unable to do so since they had been shoved into the room. After first baptizing Raven and administering the last rites to her, Father Hummer had begun to carefully feel his way around the room in hopes of finding a way to escape.
The vampire, Andre, was using Raven to draw Mikhail to this place. Edgar, knowing Mikhail as well as he did, knew the plan could not fail. Mikhail would come, and God have mercy on Slovensky’s soul.
A small sound, a shuddering wheeze of lungs laboring, drew his attention. Father Hummer felt his way back to Raven. Her body was shivering uncontrollably beneath the pile of blankets. She was as cold as ever.
The priest put his arms around her, seeking comfort for both of them. “What can I do to help you?”
Raven opened her eyes. She could see clearly in the darkness, examining the tightly constructed cell and then Father Hummer’s worried face “I need blood. I’ve lost too much.”
“I’ll be happy to donate, my child,” he responded instantly.
She sensed his weakness. In any case, Raven could never take blood in the Carpathian manner. Her mind reached for Mikhail’s, an automatic reaction. Pain exploded in her head. She moaned softly, clutching her temples.
Do not try, little one. Mikhail sounded strong, reassuring. Conserve your strength. I will be there soon.
No, it is what they want. Sending the words telepathically sent drills spiking in her skull. Is Jacques alive? Sending the message put shards of glass in her skull.
Thanks to you. Rest. It was an order—a clear, imperious demand.
Relief flooded her. For the moment Mikhail was safe, and Jacques still lived. A smile tugged at the corner of Raven’s soft mouth. “Talk to me, Father. Distract me. Tell me what you can about the Carpathian race.” S
he was very weak, but did not want to draw the priest’s attention to it.
“I’ll keep my voice low just to be safe,” Edgar said, close to her ear. “Mikhail will come, you know. He would never leave us here.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms to try to bring heat to her laboring body.
“The males are aggressive in nature, territorial, yet protective to the extreme. They consider themselves but half of a whole. That half is comprised of all the potential for evil and violence. They are supreme hunters, perfect killing machines.”
“Father.” She gasped a protest.
Edgar Hummer smiled in the darkness, aware she could see him perfectly. “This is not entirely my own description. Because of the longevity of their lives, they amass great fortunes, are extremely intellectual, and are able to recount history with a flair for facts, dates, and precise details because, of course, they’ve lived through those times. They are very good at using mind control when needed to allow them to continue their existence in secrecy. Unfortunately, they cannot survive forever without their other half. The light of their woman keeps them from darkness. She is their one hope to avoid an eternity of being alone, or turning vampire and being loathed and hunted by their own kind. She stands between them and eternal damnation.”
“They must find their lifemate as Mikhail found me.” There was satisfaction in knowing she had relieved that terrible burden for Mikhail.
“He has told me that you are his true lifemate—his other half. Without you, he would become the vampire of legends, a monster without equal to the human race.”
Raven fought for each separate breath. “Don’t believe that, Father. We have our own evil monsters. I have seen them, followed them. They are every bit as bad.”
Father Hummer sighed. “It is sad, really. A tragedy. The males hold out for so long, searching, always searching, but there are so few women. The numbers were decimated in the early years, when vampire hunting was a normal pastime.”
“Why don’t they find human women and bring them over?”
“It has been tried by vampires, but the women have gone mad, and eventually the vampire kills or abandons her and she dies or must be hunted by the Carpathians. There have been . . . incidents in the past where women have been found killing small children. The women were beyond all help.”
“Why did it work with me?”
Father Hummer glanced at the door and then back at Raven. “The Carpathian male has one true half. It is not the same as in human society when anyone can have chemistry with another. You are Mikhail’s other half. I can only guess that the reason your conversion did not drive you mad is that it was meant to be.”
“This thing between Mikhail and me is all-consuming,” Raven answered. “My mind and body, my heart, and perhaps even my soul reach for him. When he is away from me, without consciously trying, I reach for him. How sad for the other males.”
Father Hummer squeezed her hand. “You have great compassion in you, Raven. Don’t forget, the vampire enjoys what he does. He feels emotion when he kills, the rush of a drug he can never escape. The pain of others feeds that addiction.”
“You don’t know that,” she protested.
“There is good reason for the legends, my child. They are well based on fact. Vampires kill frequently, wantonly, without regard for life. Indeed, they feel great superiority, even contempt for all humans. They hate the males of their kind and always seek to destroy them. Master vampires kill hundreds before they are destroyed. Usually a Carpathian hunter destroys them and all evidence of their existence.”
“Mikhail has done that for centuries?” Raven struggled to understand Mikhail’s bleak life.
“Many of those he hunted were friends. I believe that is one of the reasons he withdrew so much, that he forced such isolation on himself. He didn’t want to be close to those he might eventually be forced to destroy.”
“Gregori must feel the same.” She clutched the blanket closer to her. “Have you ever met Mikhail’s friend Gregori?”
“He’s the one they call the dark one. I’ve seen him, of course, but only once. Mikhail has voiced his fears for him often.”
Raven’s breath wheezed in and out, a harsh sound in the quiet of the cell. “He’s a great healer, Father.” She took another shuddering breath. “And he is loyal to Mikhail. Do you believe there is hope for their race?”
The priest made the sign of the cross on her forehead, on the insides of each of her wrists. “You are their hope, Raven. Don’t you know that?”
Mikhail touched her mind with his. He was closer, the bond between them powerful. He flooded her with love, enfolded her in strong, protective arms. Hold on, my love. His voice was a black-velvet seduction of tenderness in her mind.
Do not come to this evil place, Mikhail. Wait for Gregori, she pleaded.
I cannot, little one.
Lights flickered in the cell, on, off, back on again, as if a generator was being powered up. Raven’s hand found Father Hummer’s. “I tried to stop him, to warn him, but he will come.”
“Of course he will.” Edgar’s eyes were blinking in the sudden light. Father Hummer was worried about Raven. Her breath sounded strangled, labored, as if she were fighting for every breath, and she continually shook from the cold.
The heavy door clanged and creaked as it swung open. James Slovensky peered at them. His eyes fastened on Raven’s face as if drawn irresistibly. Her blue eyes met his across the room. “What’s wrong with you?” he demanded.
A faint, taunting smile curved her soft mouth. “I’m dying. I think that’s plain enough even for you to see.” Her voice was low, a mere thread of sound, but so musical that it was impossible not to be entranced by it.
Slovensky advanced farther into the room. Raven could feel Mikhail in her, building his strength, his power, crouching, waiting to strike. She also felt a sudden uneasiness. Wait. The vampire comes. She dragged a shuddering breath into her laboring lungs, the sound loud and distressed in the room.
Slovensky was shoved carelessly across the room with one powerful swat from Andre’s hand. He stood framed in the doorway, flushed and high from a fresh kill. His eyes were flat and held a kind of contempt, a merciless promise of savagery. “Good morning, my dear. I am Andre, come to take you to your new home.”
He glided across the room, clearly enjoying his power over them all. As he approached her, his eyes darkened with rage. “You were told to feed on the priest.”
“You were told to go to hell.” She said it in her soft, musical voice, deliberately baiting him.
“You will learn it is better to obey me,” he snapped.
Furious at her defiance, he caught the priest by the front of his shirt and hurled him against the stone wall. It was done coldly, callously, without thought of the consequences.
“If you are not going to use him for food, we have no need of him, do we?” The vampire’s smile was wholly evil.
Father Hummer’s body crashed to the floor heavily, his skull cracking audibly on impact. There was a gasping sound as his lungs fought for air, then a soft sigh as they gave up the fight.
Raven bit back a scream, struggled for air, her grief so overwhelming that for a moment her mind couldn’t function. Mikhail, I’m sorry. I angered him. This is my fault.
She felt the warmth of his love surround her, the brush of his fingers so tender on her face. Never that, my love. She felt his sorrow mingle with hers.
Raven lifted her blue-violet eyes to the face of the vampire. “Now, how do you expect to control me? You lost your one advantage.”
The vampire bent down, his smile evil, his breath foul. “You will learn. Now you will feed.” He snapped his fingers, and Slovensky nearly tripped over his own feet to run out of the cell and return with a glass of dark, murky liquid. His hand trembled as he passed it to the vampire, careful to avoid the razor-sharp long nails.
“For you, my dear, breakfast.” The vampire held the glass close enough for her to smell the contents. Fres
h blood tainted with something else, some herb she didn’t recognize.
“Drugs, Andre? Isn’t that stooping a little low even for one such as you?” She had to fight every moment just to breathe, to keep from breaking down and sobbing out her grief for the priest. If only she hadn’t angered the vampire.
Andre’s face darkened when she uttered his name with such contempt, but he simply stared into her eyes, flooding her with compulsion, the need to obey him.
Loathing him as she did, fearful for Mikhail and grief-stricken over the priest and Jacques, Raven summoned every ounce of strength she possessed and fought a mental battle with him. Her head nearly exploded with pain, and only when little beads of blood appeared on her forehead did he relent.
The vampire pushed down his fury at her rebellion. She was close to death, and if she died, all his scheming would be for nothing. “You will die if you do not feed. I know Mikhail knows this. Do you hear me, prince? She dies. Force her to accept what I offer.”
You must do this, little one. Mikhail’s voice was gently coaxing. You will be dead before I can reach you, and above all else, you must survive.
The blood is drugged.
Drugs do not affect Carpathians.
Raven sighed, looked once more at the vampire. “What else is in it?”
“Only herbs, my dear, herbs that will confuse you a bit, but will ensure that my friends have plenty of time to study Mikhail. They can keep him alive, a prisoner here. Is that not what you want? That he remain alive? The alternative is to kill him immediately.” He pushed the glass at her.
Her stomach knotted in rebellion. It would just be so much easier to close her eyes and stop struggling for every breath. She could barely stand the pain in her head. She was responsible for Jacques’s grave wound, for Father Hummer’s death. Worst of all, her beloved Mikhail was racing straight into the arms of the enemy because of her. If she just stopped . . .
No! Mikhail’s voice was sharp and imperious.