Dark Sentinel

by Christine Feehan

  He shifted just before he struck the lesser vampire who was moving back and forth in anticipation of joining Jannik. He waited for a signal that hadn’t yet come. Sandu was on him fast, slamming his fist through the unwitting vampire’s chest and dragging out the heart before the creature knew what had happened. He had the organ burned and was turning when the one he’d not seen yet hit him hard, spinning him and driving him toward the ground.

  Sandu dissolved and burst through the night air, streaming around the vampire and once more shifting back to his form. He sent the vampire a small salute. “Good of you to join me. It saved me hunting you.”

  “I have not seen you before, yet you appear to have been in many battles.”

  Sandu bowed slightly. “I am one of the brethren from the monastery. Are you so young you do not recall those locked behind the gate of the monastery to spare the world their power?” He held up his hand and allowed the magic accumulated from centuries to show on his skin. For a moment, it was a dazzling display, electrical pulses sizzling over his skin, and then he appeared normal. “You are?” he prompted.

  The vampire looked uneasy once he heard Sandu’s claim of having been held within the boundaries of the monastery. Every Carpathian had heard of them. They were ancient warriors and stories of their battles had been sung around the campfires before modern times. Sandu was certain this vampire had been one of those singing.

  “Karl.” The vampire circled to his left and glanced up toward the branches of the trees, as if looking for help.

  Sandu casually sent a burst of flames toward the flock of birds staring down at them with beady eyes. The birds shrieked and took to the air. Sandu whirled his fingers in the air and, in spite of how large they were, the crows were sent tumbling, falling from the sky end over end. While the vampire was transfixed by the sight of the master’s spies dropping through the air, Sandu attacked.

  He was a blur of motion, so fast the vampire didn’t see him before it was too late. He tried to dissolve, but Sandu’s fist was in his chest, holding his form. Talons scraped while acid blood poured over the Carpathian’s arm, burning it to the bone. The vampire retaliated, attempting to drive his fist into the hunter’s chest. It was far, far too late. Sandu had the heart and nothing would deter him. He yanked the prize from the chest of the undead and sent it flying a distance. One of the crows made an attempt to rescue it, but the lightning hit crow and heart. Sandu bathed his arms to get rid of the acid blood and then took to the air to get to the next vampire.

  * * *

  Dragomir sat in the very midst of Sergey’s spying crows. He studied each of them, looking for a leader, but none seemed to be a vampire in another form. He waited patiently for the signal. He wasn’t happy that Vadim was still alive. Vadim Malinov had led the vampire army in San Diego. They had established a stronghold beneath the city. He recruited human psychic males found through the Morrison Center for Psychics. They had them now around the world. A secret human society actually ran it—those dedicated to killing vampires. They believed in them when the rest of the world thought they were crazy.

  The Malinov brothers were intelligent enough to hack the database for psychic men and women. The men they recruited would help them in various ways. They could be out in sunlight and do things vampires couldn’t. Vadim had seen the use for them and instead of using them exclusively for food, he promised them all sorts of things in exchange for their aid. He could look into each individual mind and offer their heart’s desire.

  The psychic women he wanted to give to the vampires in his upper ranks, telling them they could have children to build their powerful army. To do such a thing that was deemed impossible would only give them more status, helping to recruit newer vampires. It wasn’t easy to get vampires to follow another. They were vain and narcissistic. Vadim had found the perfect way to entice them to his army.

  Dragomir’s lifemate, Emeline, had suffered for weeks, acid blood eating her and her child from the inside out. The baby’s cries had affected her. It had been impossible to sleep because Vadim would command her. It had been an impossible situation. She’d been unable to take the chance and tell the Carpathians just in case they wanted to harm her child. She’d been uncertain what to do but knew she had to make a decision soon when Dragomir had come onto the scene and heard her speak. He’d known instantly, by the way his emotions and the brilliance of colors had returned to him. Emeline was his.

  It had taken a while, but with the help of Gary, he had completely rid both mother and child of any part of Malinov’s blood. They thought Vadim had been killed, although a question mark had been raised. Now they knew: Sergey had kept him alive for some reason of his own. Dragomir didn’t like the idea of having to go home to his woman and let her know Vadim still lived. They wanted the child—his child now. The baby was a girl, and she was definitely Dragomir’s daughter—not Vadim’s.

  Last child secure. The phrase to remove him from the safety circle is “Curious George likes his bike.”

  Beside him, Sandu made his dive toward the lesser vampire he’d targeted. Dragomir did the same. The two lesser vampires were the pawns to help protect the ones working their way toward being considered master vampires. Neither hunter wanted the pawns at their back when they were battling a more skilled opponent.

  He hit the vampire hard, rolling him to the ground, and was on him before the undead knew what happened. As he plunged his fist deep, he was hit from behind. His warning radar went off just before a vampire tried to punch through his back to get at his heart. He turned just enough to throw the vampire off. Still, the fist went deep enough for him to feel it.

  In one motion, he extracted the heart and threw it a distance away, calling the lightning at the same time as he whirled to face his new opponent. This one wasn’t the more skilled vampire he expected to face, the one he’d watched for a time. This was a second pawn, which told him the vampire he’d targeted was probably closer to being a master than he’d counted on. They often surrounded themselves with sacrificial pawns that helped them win a battle and aided them in escaping.

  The sizzling whip of white-hot energy incinerated both the heart and the lesser vampire, but then some unknown force wrestled with Dragomir for the power of the energy. He nearly smiled. Emeline had returned his emotions to him, and he could see the humor in the more skilled vampire thinking he had the advantage. Still, it was never a good thing to feel when one was fighting. He couldn’t think about Emeline or anything else.

  He loosened his grip on the lash of lightning as the demon vampire ripped at it with a powerful summoning spell. The fork snapped back at the vampire, whipping and flogging the sky, whirling in a circle to surround the undead. Dragomir dropped the coils of white-hot energy right over the vampire’s head, making certain that each spiral laid perfectly around his body, one loop right over his heart. He pulled it tight, so the sizzling energy cut right through the vampire, incinerating him and his heart as well.

  Dragomir turned to face the lesser vampire. Overhead, lightning crackled ominously. The vampire glanced uneasily at the sky, and Dragomir was on him, smashing through muscle to reach the heart. He straightened, the heart in his hand, when Sandu materialized beside him, preventing a third, lesser vampire from striking him. The vampire waited a few seconds too long, wholly concentrated on Dragomir. He never saw Sandu.

  Both men tossed the hearts to the ground and called down the lightning.

  Dragomir shook his head. “This is too easy. These vampires are newly made. They have little skills. I don’t understand it.”

  “I agree.” Sandu glanced toward the trees where the crows watched silently. “There is more here. Something we are not seeing. How could these men have no battle skills? All Carpathians are taught from birth to fight. Battles are often given from father to son. Lorraine has more skills than these vampires.”

  Dragomir stared out into the meadow where the humans had been camp
ing. “These could not have been Carpathian before they became vampire, Sandu. That is the only answer.”

  * * *

  Jannik stared at Andor, shock on his face. “What did you dare to say to me? What did you call me?”

  “Te kalma, te jama ńiŋ3kval, te apitäsz arwa-arvo—You are nothing but a walking maggot-infected corpse, without honor. I have come to free you,” Andor repeated. “I interpreted for you, just in case you are no longer able to speak Carpathian. I have no idea how long it has been since you chose to give up your honor. Since you betrayed your people and your lifemate.”

  Jannik sputtered, spit, clenched his fists and then began to sway. “A lifemate only makes you less, not more. I can have a woman and children without a lifemate forcing me to do things I would not normally do. You keep your lifemate, but she will die with you.”

  Andor pointed to the vampire. He could see the undead had some skills just in the way he moved, but he didn’t have the skills Andor had. He beckoned. Jannik’s shock showed on his face when he took a step toward Andor and then another. Each subsequent step was jerky as the vampire fought to stop himself from obeying Andor’s summons.

  He called out, lifting his hands into the air to muster aid. Andor’s other hand came up and he made a small circle with his fingers only and then twisted his wrist. The crows flying toward the meadow from the forest in answer to Jannik’s call flew into one another.

  “You are sapar bin jalkak—coward, refusing to go to your death with honor.” He forced the vampire to continue toward him, one step at a time.

  Lorraine hissed out a small warning. The lesser vampire appeared out of the sky, dropping down almost at her feet.

  “I’ve got this,” she assured.

  He had to trust her to keep his mind on his opponent. She had handled herself well, and he was right there if she got into trouble.

  Lorraine didn’t take her eyes off the new threat. She wasn’t fighting just for her own life, but those of the humans locked in their circles of safety as well as Andor. She wasn’t going to fail. Already, she made certain her mind was strong, the barricades there extremely strong in case the vampire tried to attack her that way.

  He planted his feet in the soil and glanced past her to Jannik and then the humans. A sneer twisted his face. He lifted his hand and pushed air toward her. She felt the assault in her mind first and realized the attacks often began there. Because she refused to flinch, keeping her shield strong, the push of air didn’t send her flying backward into Andor as the vampire intended. It did rock her, but not enough to throw her to the ground.

  She whipped out her gun, squeezed off three rounds, hitting him in the eye, the middle of his forehead and his throat. The force of the rapidly fired bullets took him a couple of steps back and tilted his head as well. Before he could recover, she yanked out the flamethrower Andor and the others had managed to conjure up for her.

  The vampire’s one good eye widened and he turned to run. Vaguely, in the back of her mind, she thought that was strange. In all the battles she’d encountered in the minds of the ancients, vampires shifted. They created illusions. They dissolved into mist. They didn’t turn and run.

  The steady stream of flames enveloped the vampire and he jerked to a halt, spun around in a strange, three-point turn, much like a marionette, and came straight at her with halting, lurching steps.

  Andor. She hated to distract him from Jannik. Something wasn’t right. She kept the flames pouring straight at the oncoming vampire’s heart. She backed up until she was nearly right on top of Andor.

  He’s possessed by another. We wondered where the fourth vampire was, and now we know.

  Lorraine didn’t know—she wanted to turn and run herself—but she was all that stood between Andor and this maniac coming to burn them both alive. She had to incinerate his heart, so she kept the flamethrower steady right over the place she knew it had to be. Heat brought beads of sweat out on her forehead and had them trickling down her chest. Fear made her heart pound, but she held steady. The vampire was close now, just feet from her, close enough she thought the flames would reach her, but then he began to topple.

  He fell to the ground, his arms blackened and charred but stretching out toward her. It was all she could do not to fling the flamethrower at him and run. He was like something out of a horror movie—he refused to die. He dragged his blackened body toward her. Now he was only two feet away. The fire burned hotly, the flames reaching for her along with hideous arms that were now falling apart. Chunks of ashes rolled away from his arms. Her stomach lurched, but she kept her eyes glued to his chest and the spot where his heart was.

  “Please, please, please,” she found herself chanting and then was horrified that she was all but praying that someone would die.

  Not someone, Lorraine. He is vampire. He chose to give up his soul. He survives by killing others.

  She closed her eyes briefly and then, embodied by Andor’s calmness, sucked in air again, this time standing over the creature so she couldn’t fail to hit her target.

  Andor wanted to help her, but he knew he couldn’t afford to break concentration. Jannik stood in front of him, commanding his attention, but he wasn’t alone. Another vampire was hidden and helping him. He had taken possession of the lesser vampire, sacrificing him in order to attack Lorraine.

  Keeping his eyes on Jannik, Andor raised his hands into the air. “Muonìak te avoisz te—I command you to reveal yourself.” Very few hunters could command a vampire to that level of obedience if the vampire had been around for more than a couple of centuries. He was ancient as were the other brethren. As years passed, power grew. That was what made them secret themselves from others. They knew they were dangerous and could turn should they continue to kill, even though each kill was honorable. “Reveal yourself and come to me.” He snapped his fingers and pointed to the ground in front of him as if he might have been commanding an animal.

  He was safe because he had Lorraine. Dragomir was safe because he had Emeline. Sandu, Ferro, Isai, Petru and Benedek were all at risk, as was Gary. He hoped by binding themselves to Lorraine and him, at least Sandu, Ferro and Gary had bought themselves a little more time.

  To his right, a vampire emerged from the dark. He had been part of a small boulder, but now he was snarling like a wild beast and crawling toward Andor.

  I’m moving three steps to the left. Move with me. I cannot allow them to put us between them. In fact, now that the lesser vampire is dead, stay close to the two circles. I have closed the children’s minds so they cannot witness any of this and will remove it all from the parents as soon as we defeat those battling.

  Lorraine sent a small protest to him. I am not leaving you to be safe elsewhere. I’ll stay right here and guard your back.

  His woman. A pain in the ass. He launched himself at Jannik while the vampire was watching his companion crawling. There was contempt twisting his face. The moment Andor came at him, he took to the air. Immediately he ran into a barrier, slamming his head hard, the blow knocking him back to the ground. He fell, rolled and kicked at Andor, who was on him in seconds.

  The moment Andor had his fist inside Jannik’s chest, the other vampire got to his feet and started toward the hunter. Lorraine shot him with a gun, just as she had the lesser vampire. This one turned his attention toward her with a sickening smile. He waved his arm and the gun wiggled in her hand, trying to fly away. Then it began to turn toward her.

  “You aren’t in my head, you lousy excuse for a Carpathian!” She shouted it at him, hurling the insult but knowing he wouldn’t even understand it. Still, it helped shore up her defenses. She flicked the flamethrower on and shot a steady stream at him, still clinging to her gun, just in case.

  The vampire shrieked, leaping into the air, hitting the same ceiling Jannik had. He fell to the ground, enveloped in flames. Rolling to put the fire out, he took to the air again, this time sta
ying low. He tried to dissolve, but ashes fell and were scattered by the wind. Little embers showed up in the few flames still burning on the ground. The moment Andor spotted them, he waved his hand toward them, still extracting Jannik’s heart with the other hand. The vampire fell a second time, this time landing about twenty feet from Andor.

  Lorraine glanced over her shoulder and saw Andor covered in blood. Jannik fought back, determined to keep the hunter from taking his heart. He tore at the ancient’s face and chest, licked at the blood in an effort to get stronger and tried for the heart. She couldn’t let the other vampire come back, and he was already rolling over. She took off running toward him, the flamethrower in her hand, finger on the trigger.

  No, Lorraine, get back here where you’re safe.

  She skidded to a halt, and then, keeping her eyes on the vampire who was slowly climbing to his feet, she began to walk backward. A crow squawked. The others took up the macabre chorus, all of them shrieking obscenely. She didn’t dare take her eyes from the vampire to look, but she heard the birds leave the shelter of the trees.

  Heavy wings beat around her. Everywhere she looked there were large crows. They flew in circles around her. It was disorienting. Several times one flew right into her, knocking her sideways. Then one struck the back of her head with its sharp, wicked beak. She felt the stab as the curved mandible cut a wicked slice into the back of her skull. It felt like fire. The pain was ferocious. She hit at it with the butt of her gun, knocking into the heavy body. It beat at her with its wings, tore strips from her skin with its talons as it dug for a purchase and then it was off her, rising into the air.

  She triggered the flamethrower, shooting the stream into the air in a circle around her. It took a minute to get her bearings. Lightning lit the sky, the forks sizzling brightly as one slammed to earth, signaling Andor had killed Jannik and was incinerating his heart and body. She kept backpedaling, trying to find the vampire who had gotten lost in the attack by the crows.