Dark Song

by Feehan, Christine

  The fourth master vampire was one who, again, didn’t surprise Ferro all that much. He hadn’t been related to the Astors or the Malinovs but he had grown up with them and, as children, it was reputed that where they were, he was. He was called Ambrus Balog. In Carpathian culture they took names suited to the times and whatever region they lived in. Often they kept their childhood name, given by a parent, for sentimental reasons, but even that could change if it wasn’t suited for the country where they were residing. Ambrus liked his name and continued to use it.

  He was a big man and liked intimidating his prey. He’d used his size against other children when he was a boy and still did so as a vampire. It was said he crushed children’s heads in his hands in front of their parents just to hear the elevated heartbeat, the rush of blood in their veins, hoping the heart would explode in their chests. He played with his prey for a long time before finally giving them death. He was a vicious fighter and one to respect in battle.

  Ferro, Sandu, Benedek, Petru and Gary exchanged everything they knew of the four men as far as every battle they’d ever heard of or observed them in. They did so without words, simply calling up memories to share in their merged minds. They weren’t taking any chances that a flare of energy would give their presence away before they had the information they needed.

  “Vadim’s infection was not effective at all,” Sergey greeted, his voice shaking with fury once again. He glared at Cornel. “Unless you set us up to be killed. They were waiting. An ambush. We were lucky to get away. As it was, we lost all of the idiot fawning pawns.”

  Cornel frowned and glanced at his brother. “That doesn’t make any sense, Sergey. The infection had to have spread by now.”

  “Well, it didn’t, so you tell me, Cornel, how is it that the infection didn’t spread when you assured me that it would? When you told me the ancients would turn on one another and that the gates would be opened from the inside? How is it that none of that happened?” Sergey demanded and threw himself into a chair.

  The few remaining newly made vampires crawled into the room, covered in black shiny blood, and prostrated themselves on the floor. They whined in high-pitched voices, although the sound was more of a whimpering, grating on Ferro’s nerves with his acute hearing. He knew it grated on the other ancients as well. He didn’t see how the master vampires could tolerate such a din in spite of how low the actual sound was. It felt like nails scratching over a chalkboard.

  “I have no idea.” Cornel sighed in frustration. “I can’t work from here. I need to be in a location where we have access to the internet. Eventually we’ll be able to trace the hunters. We’ll know their locations when they choose to move around. They have energy fields, and we’ve been working to perfect an algorithm for that.”

  Ferro had no idea what that meant, and he doubted if Sergey did, either, although the master vampire cocked his head to one side and nodded as if he did know.

  “Who do we have developing that?” Sergey asked, frowning as if he were very interested.

  “It was Fridrick, Addler’s older brother, but he was killed when Vadim insisted he try to get those women pregnant,” Dorin answered, his tone slightly disparaging. “He brought the hunters right to us before we were ready.”

  “Had you taken over sooner, Sergey,” Addler added, “we would be in a much stronger position.” He casually kicked one of the newly made vampires who had crawled too close. It was a hard kick, delivered with the strength of a master vampire. “Know your place, worm. You don’t ever get near Sergey unless he chooses to acknowledge you.”

  The man fell back, shuddering and whining, crawling back to the other newly made vampires. Once human, they had been young college-aged males who had gone to the Morrison Center for psychic testing. The Malinov brothers had conceived a plan to use them as pawns, dangling immortality and the promise of power in front of them. They converted them and then sent them into battle with the experienced Carpathians, using the new vampires as diversions or to wear the hunters down before launching the main attack.

  Ferro and the others felt no emotion as they watched them fawning, trying to win favors with the master vampires. The high-pitched whining increased in volume to the point Ferro found it strange he couldn’t turn the sound down. Carpathians could always lower the volume when noises were too loud, yet that screech was persistent and growing louder until he thought he might go mad.

  The large room seemed to shudder, the ground rippling as if something alive moved beneath the vampires’ feet. For one moment, the walls in the circular room appeared to do the same, the dirt walls undulating in a slow, uneasy wave, alerting Ferro that there could be things hidden that could be equally as dangerous as the master vampires and the poisonous web they had guarding the front entrance.

  Cornel impatiently waved his hand toward the newly made vampires to silence them, annoyed by their continuing noise. The whining broke off abruptly. When it did, the uneasy rippling in the floor and walls ceased as well.

  Ferro experienced an unfamiliar sense of relief. A flutter of awareness touched his mind. The merest hint of fragrance pushing out the scent of decay and rot. Bergamot, orange, vetiver, camellias and sandalwood. It was there and then gone as if it had never been, but strangely, it was an alarm, triggering an unease over the rising sound of the newly made vampires. If they didn’t always sound off like that to their masters, why had they continued to do so and increased their volume? There was no answer. He had to be watchful. There were secrets here, and the brethren had risked everything to learn them.

  Cornel paced across the floor, his movements so smooth he appeared to glide. “If we had that kid Josef, we would have exactly what we need by now. That idiot prince, Mikhail, has no idea what he has in that kid. They’ll never catch up with you, Sergey. Never. They don’t have your foresight. You’re working without their tools and yet you’re still ahead of them.”

  Ferro had to admire Cornel. He didn’t fawn on Sergey. He didn’t apologize or back down even with the implied threat that Cornel might be trying to get Sergey killed. He simply spoke matter-of-factly, stating what he needed and then ending with praise, knowing that was really what Sergey would focus on the most. After centuries of being abused by his brothers, always looking like the buffoon, Sergey craved and demanded respect. He needed those around him to stroke his ego.

  The conversation told Ferro a lot about Cornel. He might be content to stay in the background, but he had the streak of brilliance that ran in the Malinov family. He could be a huge threat to the Carpathians. Cornel hadn’t mentioned Elisabeta. Ferro wondered if he was aware she was the real brains behind Sergey’s genius and now that she was gone, Sergey was incapable of leadership without her. Perhaps it was too soon for any of them to have figured that out yet.

  Ferro knew Josef was considered very special by Gary, and that was huge praise. At one time Gary had been in the human world and he was a genius with a quick, decisive mind. He knew the ways of modern technology. When he had been converted by Gregori Daratrazanoff, second-in-command to the prince and from a powerful family in the Carpathian lineage, Gary had been presented before the long-dead ancients to be judged worthy of becoming a Carpathian warrior. If accepted, he would be wholly of the Daratrazanoff lineage and all past warriors would pour their battle and healing experience into him, as well as all other knowledge. He would wake a Daratrazanoff but already ancient, without emotion or the ability to see in color.

  It would take a man of great strength to handle the terrible burden of such a sudden difference in one’s life. Carpathians lost color and emotion over time. Those things faded, allowing them to get used to it and giving them time to reinforce their desire to uphold honor at all costs. Gary was forced to deal with it almost immediately.

  If he said Josef was needed by the Carpathian people, it didn’t matter that the kid had blue spiked hair and piercings, which didn’t offend Ferro in the least. The kid had to be protected. Knowing the vampires had their eyes on him made
that even more imperative. Ancients were used to sharing knowledge by acquiring it and simply sending that information to the others. The internet and the use of it seemed useful but not imperative until just that moment when Cornel acted as if Josef was the most important person to focus on acquiring. The implication Ferro was getting was that he was more important even than Elisabeta.

  “This Josef you speak of is the boy Traian and his lifemate brought with them to the fortress where they are holding Elisabeta,” Sergey said. There was speculation in his voice. Too much interest.

  Cornel nodded. “Yes. It would be good if we could lure them both out from under Tariq’s nose. Or if we can give the infection more time to spread, place our spies so that the command works and the gates are open, we can go in and retrieve both. That way, we can kill as many as possible.” Before Sergey could reply, Cornel turned toward his brother. “Dorin, what of the plan to use our pawns in Tariq’s club? Are they in place? That could be just the thing to bring the hunters out into the open.”

  Sergey looked pleased. “A bloodbath in Tariq’s precious nightclub. Feasting on his well-dressed patrons. A great idea.”

  “Beneath the main club is the underground club,” Dorin said. “That one is for those who like to play at being creatures of the night. We fit in perfectly there. To test for safety, I have entered numerous times, picked up a lovely woman, left with her and dined deliciously in the lair beneath the city, feasting for days before she succumbed. I had others do the same. It will not be difficult to deal with the cameras and feast right there in the underground club and then go floor by floor. Fear is such a wonderful addiction.”

  Sergey sat up much straighter, definitely pleased with the direction of the conversation. He clearly wanted to get back at Tariq for stealing Elisabeta out from under him. “Perhaps this Josef could be lured to the underground club. He’s young. Is there a female we can use? One who would want to sacrifice to save her family? Dorin, if you’ve been to the club, did you meet anyone this Josef might be intrigued with?”

  Dorin shrugged, looking bored. “I don’t pay attention to the dating habits of silly little Carpathian teens.”

  Cornel hissed his displeasure right before Sergey raised his hand and slammed it toward Dorin, pushing not only air but something unseen and violent that tore open the master vampire’s chest, driving him backward and down off the dais, toward the group of newly made vampires. Lips pulled back to reveal sharp teeth, the vampires slithered forward fast on their bellies, extending claws toward Dorin as he staggered on the uneven surface. The master vampire caught himself and viciously kicked the closest newly made vampire in the head, smashing in his teeth. He whirled around to face Sergey, his chest repairing itself, fury in every line of his body.

  Cornel glided between his brother and Sergey, the move smooth and practiced. “We should go to the lair in the city, Sergey, where I can access the computers. I am certain there will be a file on young Josef and his preferences for females. For several years he has been friends with two humans, a male and female.”

  “Find them,” Sergey snapped.

  Cornel shook his head. “The female has been converted. She is related to several powerful Carpathian families and is the wife of Dimitri. He is both wolf and Carpathian. The male friend is the nephew of Zacarias De La Cruz. He is in South America. It would be better to find his preferences and provide him with the exact girl to meet here. She can lure him out for us.” Cornel kept his voice soothing.

  Dorin hesitated, kicked at the newly made vampire on the floor who was already hastily retreating, and then the master vampire made his way back up the dais, putting Ambrus Balog between him and Sergey. Through the entire encounter, Ambrus had been silent, watching for the most part, his red-rimmed eyes on Sergey and then darting around the room, dropping to the floor to find the agitated newly made vampires and then back to Sergey again.

  “We need to get Elisabeta,” Sergey snapped. “This boy can be taken anytime, but we need to get her back immediately. If we need to move back to the lair beneath the city in order for you to understand why the infection isn’t working then we should go now, before we lose the night. I want her back next rising. I’ve waited long enough.” There was a distinct threat in his voice.

  The vampires on the floor were back to their whining again, the obnoxious high-pitched sound that seemed to shred the insides of Ferro’s ears. Evidently, he wasn’t the only one the noise bothered. Cornel once again lifted a hand to silence them, but Ambrus shook his head.

  “No. Wait.”

  The dirt floor rose and fell as something alive skittered beneath it. At the same time the walls undulated like a giant snake coiling and uncoiling.

  Cornel stepped close to Sergey. “Dorin, lead the way. Sergey, follow him. I will be right behind you. Ambrus, guard the rear. Sedrick and Edward, you stay close behind Ambrus. The others can follow or not. We will be sealing the corridor, so keep up if you want to get out.”

  Ferro had no idea what had tipped the newly made vampires off to the ancients’ presence, but whatever it was, the master vampires were fleeing, and if the hunters wanted to engage them in battle, they had to do so immediately.

  Dorin didn’t hesitate. He whirled around as Cornel swung his arms into the air and created an opening just behind Sergey’s throne-like chair. Dorin dashed down the narrow corridor followed by Sergey, Cornel almost directly on his heels.

  Ferro, Gary and the other ancients started after them, just as Sedrick and Edward leapt forward and the newly made vampires jumped to their feet, attempting to push each other out of the way as they had to go down the narrow hallway single file.

  16

  I’ll teach you the words, and show you the way;

  You’re strong on your own but tell me you’ll stay.

  Get out of there now. Do not follow them. It is what they want. Go up, toward the ceiling. Elisabeta’s voice burst through Ferro’s mind, tormented. Frightened.

  We are hunters, Elisabeta. We are here to kill the vampire. In contrast, he remained steady and calm as he streaked with his brethren after the master vampires down the very narrow passageway.

  That way is a trap. An ambush. You will not get close to them. Please, kont o sívanak, I would not deceive you in this. I have seen the preparations. You would not escape. All of you must go back to the meeting room and go up to the ceiling. They know you are following and they lead you into a trap.

  Ferro felt her heart as if it were that of the wild songbird he always called her, beating out of control. Her warning had been heard by the others merged with him. He believed in his lifemate. So far, she had never steered him wrong. He doubted if her fears for his life would have allowed her to suddenly overcome centuries of submission so that she made up her warning just to force him away from his prey.

  Immediately he halted his forward momentum and signaled the others to follow his lead, waiting for Ambrus, Sedrick, Edward and the newly made vampires to pass below them. In their frenzy to run, he was certain whatever had tipped them off would most likely elude them just long enough for the five ancients to get out of the underground lair, if Elisabeta could show them a safe way out.

  Do not get caught in the corridor. Once in the meeting room, be very still and do not speak. Hurry, they will close the doors and you will be trapped. There are so many poisonous guards in place at the entrances and exits and along the walls, ceilings and floors of the corridor. Her anxiety showed in the quaver in her voice, but she was very clear in her instructions.

  They streaked down the corridor before the last vampire was through the opening, so that when the door slammed shut, they were on one side and the vampires on the other. Back in the circular room, they drifted toward the ceiling, careful not to touch anything. Behind the closed doors, an agonized shriek signaled one of the newly made vampires had been unwary, or not fast enough, and was caught in one of the traps made for anyone pursuing the master vampires.

  On the ceiling, toward the left side
from Sergey’s chair looking toward the center of the room, there is a root. It looks like a small loop, almost pushed into the dirt. Do not talk to each other if you can help it. Do not expend any energy. There are terrible, vile creatures in that room, and any energy not known to them will now unleash them.

  Ferro could still feel her anxiety. She wanted them out of there fast. He knew that once the master vampires realized that whoever had been secreted in their meeting room hadn’t followed them, they would be returning. The ancients weren’t opposed to being outnumbered in a battle, but going up against seven master vampires and a few starving pawns inside a small room fraught with poisonous traps was suicide. More, Ferro didn’t believe that Sergey wouldn’t have other vampires, the ones each master vampire would have to serve and protect them, close by.

  The plan was to get information and then separate Sergey from the others and kill him. The last thing they wanted to do was have the slivers of his brothers and Xavier find homes in other master vampires. It might still be doable to kill him, but first they had to get out alive from the lair that had become a trap. Ferro’s woman was going to ensure that happened. He had every faith in her.

  The five Carpathian ancients searched the ceiling of the meeting room. It was a large room and there were numerous roots sticking out of the dirt. Some of the roots had fine hairs on them, and even getting close to them in the invisible form they were in sent chills through their molecules. Other roots were twisted and gnarled, graduating from smaller, elongated limbs to thicker ones. Some looped back into the ceiling to disappear out of sight, while others hung down. Looking for that small little loop almost pushed into the dirt was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

  The five ancients quartered the area, each taking a section of the left side of the ceiling to search. Benedek found the very small root nearly buried in the dirt. It was a twisted loop of braided wood about two inches thick, marbled in color so that it blended in with the dirt. He stared at it from every angle, sharing the image with the others and with Elisabeta.