Dark Prince (Dark Series - book 1)

by Christine Feehan

  The passage began to widen almost at once, twisting and turning through rock. Water trickled from the walls on either side. And then he was in a large chamber: the vampire’s lair. He had the scent now. A glint of satisfaction appeared in Gregori’s silver eyes. The vampire would find no resting place here. The undead would find that no one made a threat against the prince without merciless retaliation from Gregori.

  Raven paced restlessly across the floor of the cabin, sending Jacques a little self-mocking smile. “I’m very good at waiting.”

  “I can see that,” Jacques agreed dryly.

  “Come on, Jacques”—Raven made the length of the room again, turned to face him—”don’t you find this even a little bit nerve-wracking?”

  He leaned lazily back in his chair, flashing a cocky grin. “Being caged up with a beautiful lunatic, you mean?”

  “Ha, ha, ha. Do all Carpathian males think they’re stand-up comedians?”

  “Just those of us with sisters-in-law who bounce off walls. I feel like I am watching a Ping-Pong ball. Settle down.”

  “Well, how long does something like this take? Mikhail was very upset.”

  Leaning back with studied casualness, Jacques tipped his chair to a precarious angle and raised an eyebrow. “Women have vivid imaginations.”

  “Intellect, Jacques, not imagination,” she corrected sweetly.

  He grinned at her. “Carpathian males understand the fragile nature of women’s nerves. They just cannot take the adversity that we men can.”

  Raven hooked her foot around his chair and sent him crashing to the floor. Hands on hips, she regarded him with a superior glint. “Carpathian men are vain, dear brother-in-law,” she proclaimed, “but not too bright.”

  Jacques glared up at her with mock ferocity. “You have a mean streak in you.” He suddenly came to his feet; his dark eyes were instantly sober, restless. “Put this on.” Out of nothing he fashioned a heavy cardigan.

  “How do you do that?” It seemed like magic to her.

  “A Carpathian can make anything natural of the earth,” he informed her in a slightly distracted tone. “Put it on, Raven. I am beginning to feel trapped in this cabin. We need to get out into the night where I can smell trouble coming.”

  Raven pulled the warmth of the cardigan close around her and followed Jacques out onto the porch. “The night is almost over,” she observed.

  Jacques inhaled sharply. “I smell blood. Two humans; one is familiar to me.”

  “Father Hummer,” Raven said anxiously. “It’s his blood.” She started down the stairs, but Jacques, more cautious, caught her arm.

  “I do not like this, Raven.”

  “He’s hurt, Jacques. I feel his pain. He is not a young man.”

  “Perhaps. But how is it he is up here? This cabin is very remote; few know of its existence. How does the priest come to us nearing our weakest hour?”

  “He could be dying. Mikhail trusts him,” Raven said staunchly, her heart already going out to the priest. “We have to help him.”

  “You will stay behind me and do as I say,” Jacques commanded, forcing her resisting body behind him. “I gave Mikhail my word that I would guard you with my life, and this I intend to do.”

  “But...” Raven swallowed the rest of her protest, easily reading his resolve.

  “Scent the wind, Raven. You are Carpathian. Do not always believe the obvious. See with more than your eyes and your heart. I have called Mikhail. He is far from us but will return with all speed. And the dawn approaches.” Jacques had moved off the small porch to the grove of trees, turning slowly in a full circle. “There is another.”

  Raven tried, inhaling the night air, scanning in every direction to find hidden danger. She felt uneasy, but she could only detect the slow approach of the priest and his human companion. “What am I missing, Jacques?” Then she felt it, too, a feeling of disturbance in the natural harmony of things, a power that was out of balance with the earth.

  She saw Jacques catch his breath sharply; his black eyes, so like Mikhail’s, glittered with sudden menace. “Get out of here, Raven. Run. Get out fast. Do not look back. Find shelter from the sun and wait for Mikhail.”

  “I can help you.” Terror was rising. Something terrible threatened them, something Jacques feared. Raven could not find it in herself to run away and leave her brother-in-law to face danger alone. “I can’t go, Jacques.”

  You do not understand. You are more important than I am, than the priest, than any of us. You are our only hope for the future. Leave this place. Do not make me fail my brother.

  Indecision warred with her conscience. Father Hummer limped into view, far more frail than she remembered him. His face was battered and swollen almost beyond recognition. For the first time he looked every one of his eighty-three years.

  “Go, Raven!” Jacques hissed, again making a slow circle, never once looking at the advancing priest. His eyes were restless, moving constantly, searching, always searching.

  You must leave now.

  Another man came into view. He looked remarkably like Eugene Slovensky, but his hair was blonder and he was obviously younger. He moved up behind the priest and with the flat of his palm on Edgar Hummer’s back, shoved viciously.

  The priest stumbled forward, fell on one knee, tried to rise and fell full length, his face in the dirt and vegetation. The blond viciously kicked him. “Get up, damn you, old man. Get up or I’ll kill you where you lie.”

  “Stop it!” Raven cried, tears glistening in her eyes. “Father Hummer!” Impetuously she rushed down the stairs.

  Jacques sprang forward and cut her off, intercepting her so fast that he was merely a blur. He shoved her roughly back toward the porch.

  It is a trap, Raven. Get out of here.

  But Father Hummer!

  she cried to Jacques in protest.

  “Come here, lady,” growled Slovensky’s look-alike. He bent, grabbed the priest by the collar, and dragged him to his knees. A wicked-looking knife gleamed at the priest’s throat. “I’ll kill him right now if you don’t do what I say.”

  Jacques turned then, red lights beginning to glow in the depths of his dark eyes. He growled a low rumble of warning that sent shivers along Raven’s spine and drained the color from the priest’s assailant.

  Around them the wind picked up, hurtling leaves and twigs against Jacques’s legs. A creature seemed to materialize from nowhere, hit him hard in the chest, picked him up and drove his body into a tree trunk.

  Raven screamed.

  Mikhail! Where are you?

  I am coming. Get away from there.

  Jacques and his undead attacker crashed from tree to tree. Claws slashed; fangs ripped and tore.

  Branches cracked under the weight of their bodies. The two locked in mortal combat were shape-shifting continually. The vampire, strong and high from a fresh kill, flung himself at Jacques, beating him down, inflicting draining cuts all over his body.

  Run, Raven. It is you he wants,

  Jacques warned.

  Go while you can

  .

  She could hear Jacques breathing heavily, see his growing weakness. Raven had never actually attacked another human being in her life, but it was clear Jacques was in trouble.

  Hurry, Mikhail.

  There was desperation in her message. Dawn was streaking across the sky when she leapt on the vampire’s back, trying to drag him from Jacques.

  No, get back!

  Jacques’s cry was sharp, imperious, and laced with terror.

  No, Raven!

  Mikhail echoed the command from a distance.

  No, woman, do not!

  Gregori’s voice whispered fiercely in her head.

  Not understanding, but certain she was in deadly peril, Raven tried to jump off. The vampire clamped one hand around her wrist in a viselike grip and turned his head, triumph in his glowing eyes. Sharp teeth bit into her wrist, and he was gulping dark, rich blood. It burned and hurt like a red-hot
brand. Her flesh was ragged and gaping, his fangs tearing at her.

  Mikhail and Gregori mentally struck together at the vampire’s throat. Although such an attack was not very successful against one of Carpathian blood and they were still some distance away, their combined assault closed off the undead’s air momentarily. Jacques struck the vampire with renewed ferocity, driving him backward, dislodging Raven so that she fell free. Blood sprayed in a shower of crimson droplets across the forest floor, and for one moment both fighters froze, distracted by the red shower, turning almost in unison toward her.

  “Close that wound!” The vampire snarled, his voice gruff.

  Raven, you will bleed to death.

  Jacques struggled for calm, wanting her to understand the seriousness of the situation.

  The vampire struck, claws ripping at Jacques’s stomach so that he was forced to bring his hands down to protect himself. The vampire’s head contorted, lengthened to a long muzzle, and lunged like a wolf at Jacques’s exposed throat, ripping and tearing.

  Raven screamed and threw her body at the vampire, beating wildly at his head and shoulders. Contemptuously he dropped Jacques’s body so it lay broken like a rag dell in the rotting vegetation. He dragged Raven’s wrist to his mouth, his eyes smiling into hers, and deliberately ran his tongue across the wound to close it. Her body and mind rebelled at the hideous contact, her stomach heaving and protesting the unclean touch.

  “Remember, mortal, she is mine,” he commanded Slovensky. “I will come for her this night. Get her out of the sun.” The vampire released her and launched himself skyward.

  Raven spit into her hands and stumbled forward toward Jacques’s motionless body. “That vampire killed him,” she screamed hysterically. As her hands touched the forest floor she scooped up handfuls of dirt. “Oh, God, he’s dead. You let that thing kill him!” Using her slender body as a shield so no one could see what she was doing, Raven packed the wounds in Jacques’s throat with the soil and her healing saliva.

  Drink, Jacques, now, so that you can last until Mikhail and Gregori arrive.

  Her wrist over his mouth, Raven continued to sob dramatically, thankful for once that men often thought women hysterical in a crisis.

  Mikhail! Jacques is mortally wounded. He is in the sun.

  She sensed the approach of the human male and twisted her wrist gently in warning. Jacques was so weak; feeding blindly, he nearly missed the signal. His loss of blood was enormous.

  With great dignity Raven covered his head and her handiwork with her cardigan and bent as if kissing him good-bye.

  Don‘t let me down, Jacques. You must live. For me, for Mikhail, for all of us. Don’t let them win.

  Even as she sent the words to him she could detect no pulse, no hint of his heart beating.

  Slovensky gripped her shoulder and yanked her to her feet. She was deathly pale, dizzy, very weak. “Enough crying. You give me any trouble and I’ll kill the priest. If you harm me, the vampire will kill the priest.” He shoved her down the trail.

  Raven lifted her chin, regarded him coolly with red-rimmed eyes. “Then I guess, for your sake, it’s imperative you keep Father Hummer in excellent health, isn’t it?” Raven knew from touching the man that he didn’t believe for one moment that the priest was an advocate of the devil or one of Mikhail’s servants. He had seen the vampire’s power and craved it, believed he would soon be rewarded.

  James Slovensky could easily see the contempt and the knowledge in her large blue eyes. He didn’t like the picture reflected there and gave her a shove toward the trail.

  It took every ounce of her control and determination to make her way over the uneven ground. She had never known such weakness. She couldn’t even help Father Hummer. It took total concentration to put one foot in front of the other. Once she sat down hard, shocked to realize she hadn’t tripped over anything. Her legs had simply given out. Not looking at her captor, Raven pushed herself up again. She didn’t want him touching her. She was cold, inside and out, afraid she might never be warm again.

  Feed on the priest,

  the vampire ordered, rage smoldering in his tone.

  Raven blinked, finding herself looking around even though the voice was in her head. The vampire had established a blood bond with her, could monitor her at will.

  Go to hell.

  She contended herself with the childish retort.

  His laughter taunted her.

  You gave your blood to Jacques. I should have guessed. He will not live; I made certain his was a mortal wound.

  Raven summoned up contempt, flooding her mind with it. It was becoming difficult to think clearly, and she had fallen too many times to count. Her captor thrust her into the back seat of a vehicle beside the priest and began to drive at breakneck speed down the mountains. Raven rolled over, grateful that the windows had been blackened and the interior was dark. Lethargy was taking over; her body felt like lead.

  Feed!

  The vampire was sharply imperious.

  Raven was thankful that she could defy him. She couldn’t sleep, didn’t dare until she knew Jacques was safe. Mikhail and Gregori were racing the sun, powerful wings beating strongly as they flew toward the old cabin. They would burrow deep into the soil the moment they were able, taking Jacques with them.

  Raven.

  The call was closer, filling her mind with love.

  You are so weak.

  Save Jacques. Come to me tonight, Mikhail. The vampire knows my thoughts. He thinks he is safe, that I can be used to trap you. Don’t let him be right.

  She tried desperately to send the words clearly to him, but her brain was sluggish.

  “Raven?” Edgar Hummer touched her forehead, finding her ice cold. Her skin was so pale, she seemed nearly translucent, her blue eyes sunken, like two bruised flowers pressed into her face. “Can you talk? Is Mikhail alive?”

  She nodded, surveying his swollen face with dismay. “What have they done to you? Why would they beat you this way?”

  “They say they’re certain I know where Mikhail keeps all of his spare coffins. According to Andre...”

  “Who is Andre?”

  “The treacherous vampire in league with these killers. He is a true undead, feeding on children, destroying all that is holy. His soul is lost for all eternity. As far as I can tell, Andre appears to be deliberately perpetuating the vampire myths. He claims that Mikhail is the head vampire and if they succeed in killing him, those under his influence will be returned to mortal existence. He must have established a blood bond without their knowledge and he uses it to give them orders.”

  Raven closed her eyes weakly. Her heart was struggling to pump without necessary blood; her lungs cried out for oxygen. “How many of them are there?”

  “Three that I’ve seen. This one is James Slovensky. His brother Eugene is their supposed leader, and their muscle man is Anton Fabrezo.”

  “Two of them stayed at the inn with the American couple. We thought they had left the country. This Andre must be a lot more powerful than anyone suspects.”

  Her voice was fading, her speech slurring. Father Hummer watched as she tried to lift her arm to push her hair away from her face. Her arm seemed too heavy; her face seemed too great a distance away. He did it for her with gentle fingers.

  Raven!

  There was anguish in Mikhail’s voice.

  It was too difficult to answer him; it required far too much strength. The priest shifted so that her head could fall against his arm. Raven was shivering with cold. “I need a blanket back here for her.”

  “Shut up, old man,” Slovensky snapped. His eyes continually searched the sky through his windshield. The sun was up, but heavy clouds dimmed the sky, hiding the light.

  “If she dies, Andre will make you wish you had died too,” Edgar Hummer persisted.

  “I need sleep,” Raven said softly without opening her eyes. She didn’t even wince when Slovensky’s jacket landed on her unprotected face.

  Mikh
ail had to get out of the sun. Without dark glasses or any substantial protection from the rays, his skin and eyes were burning. He landed on the low branch of a tree and changed to human form as he jumped the remaining seven feet to earth. Jacques’s body lay in the sun, a cardigan covering his neck and face. Without looking to see the extent of his brother’s injuries, Mikhail lifted him and glided above ground toward the network of caves a mile away.

  A huge black wolf burst from the clearing to join him, loping easily beside him, pale silver eyes gleaming with menace. Together they raced through the narrow passages until they found a large, steaming chamber. The black wolf contorted, fur rippling along muscular arms as Gregori shape-shifted to his true form.

  Mikhail laid Jacques’s body gently on the rich soil and lifted away the covering. He swore softly, unshed tears burning in his throat and eyes. “Can you save him?”