Dark Fire (Dark Series - book 6)

by Christine Feehan

  He had never wanted this for her, never wanted her to suffer the fires of conversion. He found he could barely breathe, protesting the pain she was enduring on his behalf. She seemed so small and fragile in his arms, so close to shattering.

  Stay with me, my love. In another few minutes it will be safe to send you to sleep, where the pain cannot reach you. Please stay with me.

  With the fire ripping through her, with her muscles locking and her body convulsing, she still made the attempt to reassure him. Her fingertips brushed his neck in a light caress before her hand fell away. Darius wept, his chest so tight that he felt his very heart had split in two.

  The moment there was no chance of Tempest choking to death on her own vomit or blood, Darius sent her into a deep sleep so that her body could finish its work on its own. He held her tightly in his arms, a part of him still locked with her, insurance that nothing could go wrong. Only when he was certain the conversion was complete and she was safe did he strip the filthy clothes from her body and wash her gently and lovingly.

  He sat for a long while, exhausted and wrung out by her ordeal, his mind, so often calm, in chaos. He had never conceived of anyone ever loving him enough to suffer the fires of hell for him. He felt humbled by her sacrifice. He kissed her, his touch tender and reverent, before opening the ground. Then Darius put Tempest into the sleep of Carpathians, closing the earth over her so that the soil could rejuvenate her.

  As the earth closed over her body, Darius turned his head slowly toward the tunnel leading from the cave back toward the surface. His black gaze was utterly cold, without mercy. He felt the beast in him rising, and he made no effort to stop it. Red flames flickered in his black eyes. He had not hunted down and destroyed these murderers months ago when they had first attacked his sister. His instincts had been to find and destroy all of them, but his kind had always attempted to fit into the civilized world, to avoid drawing attention to themselves and their activities. At this moment, however, there was no longer hesitation; there was not a shred of civility in his body or soul.

  He protected the cave with the strongest safeguards he had ever used, determined that no one, human or Carpathian, would go near Tempest while she slept, would not live if they tried to enter the cave. And then he was streaking through the tunnel, bursting out into the night sky, his mind a red haze of vengeance.

  The concert was over, Desari and Syndil safe in a closely guarded room, Cullen with the group. They suddenly all went quiet, exchanging a long, knowing look. Julian glanced skyward. “He has risen. There will be no calming him. He is bent on destroying those who took Tempest.” He sounded complacent and unhurriedly bent to kiss Desari. Then, with Dayan and Barack, he went out to the small porch off the suite.

  Dayan took a running leap and launched himself skyward. “It is rather ironic that we now leave the human with our women.” He was shape-shifting even as he spoke, feathers rippling along his wide-spread arms.

  “Our women can handle one human male,” Barack growled as he joined Dayan, also choosing the body of the night owl to race across the distance, attempting to catch up with their leader.

  Syndil, stay across the room from that blond

  human

  flirt. If I catch you making eyes at him, there will be hell to pay. Oh, now we can handle one human male! I like that. So if I want to take him to the nearest bedroom, you have no say in it. Do not force me to kill this human. Darius has a fondness for him, although I cannot imagine why. Barack?

  There was a short pause while Syndil considered how to phrase her concerns.

  Please be careful. I would not want Desari to have to grieve for you.

  He laughed softly, a velvet caress in her mind.

  And you wish me to believe that you would not? I never

  thought

  of myself as an angel, but my patience with you certainly qualifies me far sainthood. I cannot imagine anyone considering you an angel or a saint.

  Again there was a slight hesitation.

  Be careful, Barack I feel the intensity in Darius. The darkness is on him. He will not turn back, whatever the danger. His lifemate has chosen our way. Did you not feel his sorrow at her suffering?

  Barack’s voice held a note of censure.

  At once he could feel the tears gathering in her.

  Do not remind me. He shared with us what we had wrought with our meddling. She suffered much for him. It is done, my little love.

  It wrenched at his heart that he had made her cry.

  We will remove the threat to you and Desari, and all will be well once more.

  Barack was reassuring.

  Darius is truly angry with us

  .

  He will not forgive

  us

  for a long while.

  Barack wanted to turn back and comfort Syndil. Instead, he sent her waves of reassurances, warmth, and love. He knew Darius was furious. Coldly furious. He also knew Darius was capable of things neither woman could conceive of. He was a harsh, unrelenting enemy. His woman, the one he deemed his very soul, had suffered agonies this night. He would not forgive easily. Barack flew faster, streaking through the dark sky to catch up with the hunter.

  Once the three Carpathians were united with Darius, Julian signaled them to settle to earth. Mostly he wanted to see for himself just how far gone Darius’s condition was. All three males fully intended to protect Darius. They knew he had been wounded.

  Impatiently Darius’s cold black eyes swept over Julian. “What is it?”

  They were in an orchard not far from where Darius had forced the car carrying Tempest off the road. Julian had blown the car sky high. Fire and police vehicles were already leaving the scene.

  “Cullen told me a man named Wallace came over from Europe and fired up this Brady Grand against the band and Julian and Desari in particular,” Dayan volunteered. He was studying Darius’s face as he spoke.

  Darius looked drawn and harsh. There was a spot of blood on his hip and another larger stain spreading on his thigh. Dayan glanced uneasily at Julian and Barack but refrained from commenting. There was cold fury in Darius’s eyes. A strange scarlet glow that seemed to come from the blood-red moon was trapped and reflected back at them from the very depths of those black, black eyes. It was an eerie flame of savage rage, as primitive and unrelenting as time itself. There would be no stopping Darius this night. He was the ultimate predator. His quarry could never escape him.

  “Have you heard of this Wallace?” Darius asked Julian quietly.

  “A few years back there was a man who hunted our people, our Prince, his lifemate, and his brother. He tortured and killed both humans and immortals alike. That man was named Wallace, but he was destroyed. I know he belonged to a society of fanatics. I can only imagine that the two Wallaces are related, especially if he came over from Europe. He must be at the head of the society now.”

  “These lunatics are like Medusa, the snake woman. Cut off one head, and another grows in its place. If we take this one, we can hope they will at least be forced to regroup for a while,” Darius said softly. “It will give us time to collect more information on them.”

  Julian nodded solemnly. “Human vampire-hunters have plagued our people for thousands of years. As long as our males turn, there will be those humans who become suspicious and continue to hunt us all.”

  “Perhaps the solution is to find out more about these fanatics and actively hunt them,” Darius suggested grimly.

  “We have some of our people gathering information on them. A toxin was developed by one of their laboratories. Injected into the body of a Carpathian, it can paralyze,” Julian informed him almost soothingly. “Our healer—your brother, Darius—has found an antidote. But these are determined men. Even if we take this Wallace, they may come after us again and continue to develop new and more deadly poisons against us.”

  “Not if, Julian,” Darius returned with quiet menace.

  “

  I

  will
>
  destroy this man. If it gives our people respite, so be it. If it does not, we will not back away from our duty.”

  “Do you have the scent of our prey?” Julian asked.

  “It is a stench in my nostrils. He cannot escape his fate this night.”

  “Your lifemate still lives,” Dayan said softly.

  Darius’s head snapped around, his eyes blazing with smoldering fire. “I am well aware of the state my lifemate is in, Dayan. There is no need for you to remind me.”

  “Tempest is one of those unusual women who never hold a grudge,” Julian said to no one in particular. “It is difficult to imagine her harming a fly.”

  “Thank you for pointing that out to me, Julian,” Darius snapped, and he launched himself straight upward.

  Few could accomplish such a feat. He was in the sky, a stream of vapor streaking through time and space. Julian laughed softly and followed suit, not to be outdone by his brother-in-law. Dayan shrugged his powerful shoulders, grinned at Barack, and took a running leap.

  Barack shook his head at them all and went after them. Someone who had some sense had to go along.

  The dark, ominous cloud grew heavier as the separate streams of vapor gathered together and moved rapidly overhead, blotting out stars as it went. Below them animals scurried for cover or cowered in trees and dens. They sensed the dark predators moving rapidly overhead and chose to remain as small and still as possible.

  The cloud abruptly stopped, as if the wind had ceased to blow. Darius allowed the breeze to blow around him, through him. It told him exactly where he wanted to go. He had the scent of Brady Grand’s companions. He would know them anywhere.

  Far below, tucked into the side of a hill, a ranch house sprawled in an L-shape. At first glance it appeared deserted, but there was no way to stop the wind from carrying the stench of their prey to Carpathians. The cloud moved slowly, spreading a dark stain over the hill. The wind rose sharply and should have carried the cloud away, but it stayed stubbornly overhead, a portent of death and destruction.

  The wind tugged at the windows of the ranch house, looking for a way in, searching for weaknesses. It grew stronger, rattling the glass in the panes, banging the shutters insistently. Then there was movement at the south side of the house; someone opened a downstairs window and reached out into the night to try to close the shutter.

  The ominous black cloud struck hard and fast. It poured out of the sky and streamed into the house through the open window, filling the room like suffocating smoke. The man staggered backward, his mouth gaping open in a silent scream. The sound failed to emerge, muffled by the thick vapor as it moved through his body, taking his breath, removing the air like a vacuum.

  One by one the Carpathians shimmered into solid forms. Darius was already moving. He could hear every sound in the house. Four men were playing pool in a room three doors to their right. Overhead, two others were moving around. Someone was watching television in a room upstairs and to their left.

  Darius glided through the house, a silent predator stalking his prey.

  On the ground floor two men lounged in a room, talking in low voices. The soldiers. They waited for Tempest. Waited for a helpless woman they could torture, use to draw one of the Carpathians to them. Each of those soldiers carried a syringe on him. Darius was certain of it. He didn’t care. Nothing mattered to him except that these were the men who had attempted to harm his lifemate and his sister. Nothing would stop him.

  He stood in the open door to the pool room, his eyes glowing a fiery red, his white teeth gleaming. The men turned as one being, a slow-motion pirouette orchestrated by a relentless conductor, performed with the grace of a ballet. As one they grabbed their heads, clapping their hands tightly over their ears. Darius gave a menacing smile of mocking amusement. He applied pressure, a steady, relentless application of pain. As one they dropped to their knees.

  “I believe you gentlemen were looking for me,” he said softly, the harshness in his face implacable, his emotions as cold as ice. He watched them die dispassionately, giving a fleeting thought to the coroner who would have to try to explain how four men died of brain aneurisms all at the exact same time. Instantly the victims were dismissed from his mind.

  Julian, Dayan, and Barack could handle those in this portion of the house. Darius moved like a cold, killing wind to the other leg of the L, where he knew he would find the head of the monster. He moved so fast that one of the soldiers coming down the hall brushed against him without realizing what he had run into. The man staggered backward, looked around, scratching his head, and continued down the hall toward the pool room. Darius dismissed him as already dead. Julian had witnessed the first attempt on Desari’s life so many months ago, when men such as these had raked the stage with automatic weapons, nearly killing her. Despite his offbeat sense of humor and his rather sardonic manner, Julian was every bit as lethal as Darius. He simply hid it better. Julian would not allow any of these assassins to escape.

  The huge living room boasted high ceilings and a rock fireplace on one wall with a large conversation area grouped around it. Two men were lounging in deep recliners, sipping coffee as they waited for their victim. Darius’s large frame filled the doorway. He simply stood there, waiting.

  The older man had to be Wallace. He was of medium build with a shock of graying hair, rather coldly handsome features, and empty eyes. His companion was a good twenty years younger, with dark hair and an obvious eagerness to prove himself. Darius touched their minds. In Wallace he found a sick, perverse nature, a man cruel to animals and women. He enjoyed hurting them, found arousal in watching others suffer. This elder Wallace had obviously passed the legacy on to his son, the man killed in Europe by the Carpathians a few years earlier. His hatred ran deep and strong, and he was anticipating a long, pleasurable session with Tempest. The perverted fantasies in his head roused the demon in Darius to an almost uncontrollable pitch. Darius fought for control and won.

  When neither man looked up, a situation he found laughable under the circumstances, Darius cleared his throat softly to direct their attention toward him. “I understand you requested my presence. It was completely unnecessary to issue the kind of invitation you did. Although now that I have seen you and looked into the rot of your minds, I understand why you did so.” His voice was beautiful, a black-magic weapon he wielded easily. “Please do not feel it necessary to get up,” he added to the younger man. “I have business with your boss.”

  He lifted a hand and rather carelessly slammed the younger soldier back into his seat with ease holding him in his thrall even from a distance.

  William Wallace stared at the tall, elegant man filling the doorway. Midnight-black hair flowed to his broad shoulders. His eyes held a demon’s red glow. Power clung to him, and his white teeth gleamed with menace when he smiled. He was inordinately polite, but Wallace sensed the smoldering threat beneath the surface. Physically he was beautiful, a handsome, intensely masculine specimen of a man with a sensuality around his mouth matched only by its edge of cruelty.

  Wallace felt his heart began to pound in alarm. His fingers curled into two tight fists. “Who are you?”

  “I think, more to the point, is

  what

  am I? Have you ever met a vampire before, Mr. Wallace?” Darius asked politely. “As you have gone to so much trouble to invite one into your home, I would expect you to have a fairly good idea of what you are dealing with.”

  Wallace glanced at his companion, frozen in place by the mere whim of the intruder. He decided to be as polite as his guest, hoping to catch him off guard. The house was swarming with his men. Sooner or later one would come. In any case, he had a secret weapon, if he could just get the vampire close enough. “Do come in.” He waved an expansive hand, indicating a chair close by.

  Darius smiled, a show of teeth, a leap of flame in the depths of his eyes, but he did not move. “By all means, let us be civilized. I’m sure you had that in mind when you sent your assassi
ns after my woman. Do not bother to deny your intentions. I can read your thoughts so easily.”

  Wallace decided to brazen it out. “Evil calls to evil. I know your kind and what you’re capable of. Others like you killed my own son, murdered two of my brothers-in-law. Yes, I intended to take my time enjoying the woman. She is pretty enough. It would have been... delicious.”

  Darius put out his hand and studied his immaculate fingernails. One by one, razor-sharp talons sprang to the tips. He smiled again with the menace of a predator. Once more his black gaze touched the older man, and it was like a physical blow, a punch that seemed to shake Wallace’s brain so that he clutched his head in pain. He felt the tremendous power of the visitor, and his insides turned to jelly.

  Darius glided into the room, fluid and supple, muscles rippling with power beneath his elegant white shirt. He seemed to take up the entire room, seemed to suck the very oxygen out of the air. “I see you have decorated the windows with garlic. Do you believe vegetation bothers me in some way, perhaps weakens my power?”

  “Doesn’t it?” Wallace countered, stalling for time. The gleam of stark white teeth was his answer. Darius moved to the fireplace, reached out, and touched the large silver cross there. “You seem to have all the supplies for bagging yourself a vampire.”

  Wallace was horrified. He glanced toward the door, suddenly aware of the deep silence in the house.

  Darius glided closer. “What is it precisely you wished to learn about me, Mr. Wallace? Now is your opportunity.”

  Wallace jerked out the syringe filled with the toxin and plunged it deep within Darius’s arm. He jumped back, grinning in triumph.

  “Ah, yes, the poison you worked so hard to develop,” Darius said softly, his voice as beautiful and unconcerned as always. “It is so difficult to know what really works unless you have the chance to test it. Let us observe the results together.” The soulless eyes met Wallace’s. “You do fancy yourself a scientist, do you not, Mr. Wallace?”