Dark Storm ('Dark' Carpathian Series)

by Christine Feehan

  “Fascinating,” Ben said. “If we get a chance, I’d like to hear more. I find cultures interesting, and here, in this part of the rain forest, the tribes and stories seemed to be shrouded in mystery, which intrigues me all the more. I’m a bit of an amateur writer and I take every opportunity when exploring a new region to learn as much as I can about old myths. I find that no matter where I go, certain legendary creatures have infiltrated the cultures all over the world. It’s intriguing.”

  At a soft sound, Riley turned to find her mother standing close. Annabel was unguarded for a moment, her face swollen with bites, her eyes watchful and very suspicious of Ben. Riley stared at her in surprise. Her mother was the most open, gentle woman Riley had ever been around. She didn’t have a mean, suspicious bone in her body. As a rule she shared information, was at ease with everyone, and most people gravitated toward her. Riley always felt protective toward her mother because she was so trusting where Riley wasn’t.

  Annabel blinked and the look of suspicion was gone, leaving her mother simply looking at Ben. Riley felt a little as if her world was spinning. Nothing, no one—not even her mother—seemed familiar. “You should be resting, Mom. So many bites can make you sick.”

  Annabel shook her head. “I’m okay. The gel Gary gave me is very soothing. It took the itch away, and you know the bites aren’t poisonous. Gary and his friend must be very good at studying the properties of plants, because the gel really works.”

  Ben glanced over at the two men. Although both were clearly American, Gary and Jubal had journeyed from somewhere in Europe to search for a mythical plant with extraordinary healing properties that supposedly grew high in the Andes. By the expression on his face, he thought both men were slightly insane.

  Annabel took Riley’s hand and they nodded at Ben and moved toward the railing of the boat, in the center where they were alone.

  The river narrowed more so that in places the huge root systems of the trees along the bank nearly scraped the boat. Lines of bats swayed high in the trees, an eerie sight. They were large, hanging upside down up in the thick canopy. Riley had seen the sight before, even as a child, but for some strange reason, this time it was disturbing, as if the bats were lying in wait, motionless, waiting for dark to begin the hunt—this time for human prey. She gave a little shudder at her own dramatic fantasy.

  She was allowing the edginess of close confinement to get to her. She knew better. The bats were large and definitely vampire bats—feeding on warm blood—but she doubted if their hunger was personal and certainly they weren’t just waiting for an unsuspecting boatload of humans to come along.

  She felt eyes on her and turned to see Don Weston staring at her. He grinned and pretended to shoot an imaginary rifle at the motionless creatures. Riley turned away. Weston’s need to be the center of attention every moment disgusted her. But his reaction to the bats was just a little too close to the way she was feeling—and she didn’t want to feel anything at all in common with the man.

  She turned her attention back to her mother, taking her hand and gripping it tightly. This morning they’d left the main river and begun the journey up the tributary toward one of the most remote parts of Peru. The jungle had closed around them, at times nearly scraping the sides of the two boats chugging upriver. The forest was in constant motion, almost as if the very animals were following them. Monkeys stared with great round eyes. Colorful macaws fluttered above their heads, darting in and out of the tree canopy.

  They were definitely entering the world of the rain forest, the lush jungle of mystery that only deepened and became more dangerous with each passing second. The river narrowed, and the air grew still with the dark pungent scents of the deep rain forest. She recognized the signs. Soon, the river would be impossible to navigate. They would be forced to abandon the boats and tramp through the forest on foot. Unlike many places in the rain forest where it was easy to walk because very little could live on the forest floor without too much light, this area was dense. She’d traveled extensively, but the smells and the stillness of this place was a thing she’d found nowhere else on earth. Unlike any of her previous visits, this time Riley felt a little claustrophobic.

  “Hey, Mack,” Don called to the other engineer. “What the hell is going on now? I swear the jungle is alive.” He gave a nervous laugh as he pointed out the strange way the branches dipped down and reached toward them as the boat passed.

  Everyone turned to watch the bank closest to them as a great green wave built, following them. Every branch shivered, leaves unfolding and stretching out across the water as if seeking to stop their progress upriver. The first boat had passed unscathed, but the moment the second boat came close to the bank, the leaves reached for them. The stirring was eerie, as if the jungle had really come alive like Don said.

  Riley’s heart dropped. She’d seen the phenomenon many times before. Her mother attracted plants everywhere she went. There was no getting around it. The force of the magnet in her had never been quite this strong, but the thick foliage along both banks welcomed her with opened arms, even grew inches in an attempt to try to touch her. It never was good to draw too much attention to oneself in the rain forest around the superstitious guides and porters. Riley felt a deep need to protect her mother. She stepped between her mother and the bank, gripping the railing with both hands and staring out at the unfolding plants with wide, shocked eyes.

  “Wow,” she added to the sudden murmur of conversation. “This is amazing.”

  “It’s creepy,” Mack said, stepping back away from the rail.

  The porters and the guide stared at the reaching plants and trees and then turned to look directly at Annabel. They whispered to each other. Riley felt other eyes on them. Both Gary and Jubal were looking at her mother as well. Only the three engineers stared into the rain forest as it closed in around them.

  The two boats continued upstream, drawing closer to the mountain. Black caimans, giant dinosaurs of the past, sunned themselves on the banks, keeping a hungry eye on the small boats invading their space. Great clouds of black insects bit every inch of exposed skin and got caught in hair and even teeth, this time mosquitoes and other bloodsucking bugs. There was nothing to do but endure it. Below them, the dark waters grew shallow, slowing progress, and twice, the boat ground to a halt and had to be cut free of the tangled reeds reaching out greedily to wrap about the underside of the motor and propeller. Each time the unexpected lurch sent everyone aboard sprawling across the deck.

  Weston picked himself up with an oath and staggered to the side of the boat to spit into the water. “This is ridiculous. Couldn’t you have found another way?” he demanded of their guide, Pedro.

  The guide shot him a tense look. “There is no easy way to this place you want to go.”

  Weston rested his butt on the railing as he gave the guide the finger. “I think you’re just trying for more money and it’s not going to happen, pal.”

  Pedro muttered something in his language to the two porters.

  This one the jungle can eat, Riley interpreted. She didn’t blame them.

  The guide and porters snickered.

  Weston lit a cigarette and glared out over the dark water. The boat staggered again and then, as they were all desperately trying to gain their footing, it gave a huge lurch. Weston fell forward, hanging up for one heart-stopping moment on the railing. Everyone leapt to help him as he hung precariously, arms down, closer to the water.

  Riley caught his belt buckle while Annabel reached over the side to grasp at his arms. The moment Annabel leaned down, arms covering Weston’s, the water came to life, boiling like a cauldron, flashing silver with muddy patches of red.

  “Mom!” Riley cried, reaching for her mother, still holding Weston. His weight was pulling them all forward.

  The others rushed to help as Annabel slipped farther toward the dark, reed-choked water, now boiling with frenzied piranha. There was no blood in the water so the turmoil made no sense. To Riley’s horror
the fish began to leap out of the water, hundreds of them, narrow bodies and blunt heads shooting from the river like rockets, the triangular-shaped jaws with razor-sharp teeth snapping open and shut with terrible clacking sounds.

  Although the stories of piranha frenzies abounded, Riley knew attacks on people were quite rare. She’d swum in the water with them on several occasions. This bizarre behavior was extraordinary, as unnatural and unsettling as the La Manta Blanca attack. And just like with the Manta Blancas, it seemed clear the piranha were bent on reaching her mother, not Don Weston.

  It was Jubal who caught Annabel and yanked her back away from the rail, practically throwing her into Gary. Then he caught Weston and hauled him back on deck, too. Instead of being grateful, the engineer slapped at Jubal’s hands, cursing and sliding down to sit on the deck, his breath coming in great gasps. He glared at Pedro and the two porters as if the three men had deliberately tried to murder him.

  The guide and porters both stared at Annabel with a look that made Riley wish she had a concealed gun close at hand. Before anyone could speak, the boat nearly ran aground, and the two natives turned back to their work. A low branch overhead dipped down, and a snake dropped onto the deck with a thud right at Don Weston’s boots.

  “No one move,” Jubal hissed as the snake stared at the engineer. “That viper’s extremely poisonous.”

  Pedro, the guide, turned back, catching up the machete that was always close. Before he could take a step, the viper did an abrupt spin and launched itself at Riley. She stumbled back into her mother. The snake flashed between her legs heading straight toward her mother. Gary Jansen yanked Annabel off her feet and twisted around, holding her in the air while Jubal shoved Riley aside, yelling at the guide, hand up in the air.

  Pedro tossed the machete and in one smooth movement, Jubal slammed the sharpened blade across the neck of the viper, severing the head. There was a moment of silence as Gary lowered Annabel to the deck, holding her steady so that she didn’t fall.

  “Thank you,” Riley breathed softly to both researchers. She didn’t try to hide the fact that she was very shaken.

  Her mother stared at her with stricken eyes. Riley’s world crumbled. Capa, Raul and Pedro looked at her mother with the same look they had on their faces when they’d first seen the viper. They were in real trouble if the guides and porters became hostile toward them. She reached for her mother’s hand and held on tightly.

  2

  Nights were hell in the jungle. Right at sunset, the buzzing started. It wasn’t as if the insects were silent—they were producing a constant steady drone—but Riley could push the sound away. This was something altogether different—a soft, persistent noise, a low frequency that jangled every nerve in the body. She’d awakened to the strange noise the very first night they entered the rain forest.

  Strangely, Riley couldn’t identify the low, irritating buzz, nor could she tell if it was outside or inside her head. She’d observed several others—including her mother—rubbing their temples as if their heads ached, and she feared that same low frequency of whispers one couldn’t quite catch was invading insidiously, adding to the danger of their travel. During the day the whispers were gone, but the effects lingered.

  Her senses, since entering the rain forest, seemed to have blazed to life and were working overtime. She noticed every little suspicious glance toward her mother. Jubal Sanders and Gary Jansen were armed to the teeth and she was very envious of their weapons. The two moved in silence, kept to themselves and watched everyone. She came to the conclusion that they knew a lot more about what was going on than they let on.

  Don Weston and his friend Mack Shelton were a pair of idiots as far as she could see. Neither had ever made the trek into a rain forest, and clearly they were afraid of everything. They blustered, complained and bullied the porters and guides when they weren’t leering at Riley or feeding the rampant distrust among the travelers.

  Ben Charger seemed much more knowledgeable about the rain forest and the tribes occupying it. He’d done extensive research and had come prepared. He didn’t like either Weston or Shelton, but had to work with them and clearly wasn’t happy about it. He spent a lot of time talking to the guides and porters, asking questions and trying to learn from them. Riley couldn’t really fault him for anything. Perhaps she was just nervous about everyone at this point.

  The archaeologist and his students were very excited and seemed completely oblivious to the tension running through the camp, although she noticed they were uneasy at night, sitting close to the fire. They seemed driven, amicable and very focused on their mission. Dr. Henry Patton and his two students, Todd Dillon and Marty Shepherd, were more excited about the ruins they’d heard about than interested in whether or not a woman in their company was bringing bad luck to the travelers. They seemed young and naïve, even the professor, who was in his late fifties. His entire world revolved around academia.

  Riley felt a little sorry for all three archaeologists, that they were so clueless, and more grateful than ever that she’d chosen to concentrate her studies on modern languages rather than dead ones. She enjoyed traveling, talking with people and living life too much to be locked in an ivory tower, poring over dusty tomes. Of course, she’d studied ancient languages as well, but primarily as a window to the evolution of languages and their impact on various cultures.

  Riley glanced toward Raul and Capa, the two porters who had shared the boat with them coming upriver. She didn’t like the way they whispered and sent surreptitious glances toward Annabel’s sleeping hammock. Maybe that terrible buzzing in her head was making her as paranoid as everyone else, but in any case, there was no sleeping. She didn’t just have to worry about the men in her camp; the insects and bats and every other night creature seemed to stalk her mother as well.

  She’d gone four nights without sleep, watching over her mother, and it was beginning to show, fraying her nerves so that she found it nearly impossible to tolerate Weston’s snide, leering presence. She didn’t want to add to the problems by being ugly to him, but she was definitely at that point. The fire blazed bright. Just outside the ring of fire, a jaguar coughed. He seemed to follow them, yet when the guides went out to check in the morning, they couldn’t find tracks. It was impossible not to be affected by that sawing, grunting cough.

  She could hear the slow fluttering of wings over Annabel’s head. Vampire bats landed in the trees, brushing the leaves and filling the branches until the tree groaned, trying to support the weight of so many. Riley swallowed hard and slowly turned her head toward the leaping fire. The porters and guides stared at the tree filled with hanging bats. The creatures had gone from interesting to sinister in a matter of seconds for the fourth night in a row.

  Pedro, the guide, and Raul and Capa, the two porters from her boat, moved a little into the shadows. All three gripped their machetes. The looks on their faces as the flickering flames revealed their expressions frightened her. For one heart-stopping moment, the men seemed every bit as threatening as the bats. Riley sat up slowly. She’d left her boots on, knowing she’d be protecting her mother.

  Annabel slept restlessly, groaning at times. Her mother had always had acute hearing, even in her sleep. A cat walking across the floor would wake her, but since entering the rain forest, she seemed exhausted and weak. At night she twisted and turned in her hammock, sometimes weeping softly, pressing her hands to her head. Even when the bats dropped to earth and surrounded her, using their wings to propel them through the thick vegetation, Annabel never opened her eyes.

  Riley had prepared her defenses carefully, using torches she could easily light, even going so far as to build a small circular fire wall around her mother’s sleeping area. As she unhooked her netting, she caught sight of Raul creeping toward her. He was staying low and to the shadows, but she could make him out, sliding from one dark place to another, stalking prey. Riley glanced over at her sleeping mother. She feared Annabel was the porter’s intended prey.


  Heart pounding, tasting fear in her mouth, Riley slipped from her hammock and drew her knife. Going up against a machete, especially one wielded by a man who used one on a regular basis, was insane, but he was going to have to go through her to get to her mother, just as the vampire bats would have to do. And it wouldn’t just be her knife, if he came at her mother. Riley picked up a torch and held it to the low fire she’d prepared earlier as a defense against the bats.

  She would kill him if she had to. The idea made her sick, but she steeled herself, going through each move in her head. Practicing. Bile rose, but she was determined. No one—nothing—would harm her mother. She’d made up her mind, and nothing would stop her, not even the idea that what she was about to do might be considered premeditated murder.

  Raul inched closer. Riley could smell his sweat. His scent was all “wrong” to her. She took a deep breath and let it out, easing toward her mother’s hammock, putting her feet carefully in position. She could feel the ground under her, almost rising to meet each footfall. She’d never been so aware of the heartbeat of the Earth. Not a leaf rustled. No twig snapped. Her feet seemed to know exactly where to step to keep from making a sound, to keep from twisting an ankle or falling on the uneven ground.

  She positioned herself in front of her mother’s hammock, picking a spot she could easily move in to try to keep any attack from her. Movement close to her sent her pulse pounding. A man’s shadow loomed over the hammock, thrown by the flames in the fire pit suddenly leaping toward the sky. She never would have seen him otherwise. Jubal Sanders was that quiet. She twisted fast to face him, but he’d gone past her to take up a position at the head of Annabel’s hammock. Had he wanted to kill her mother, she would already be dead—he’d been that close without Riley’s knowledge.