I must stay with Darius if I am to keep my promise to you. Dayan has not the experience to help should there be need.
Desari sent him waves of warmth and love, surrounding him for a moment in the wealth of emotion before she shimmered into transparency and allowed Dayan to lead her away from the danger zone. In his mind, Julian heard her soft, persuasive voice, a weapon powerful beyond imagining, a soothing, luring spell calling out to the woman who was like a sister to her. It was a call of need, of love, promising unity, sisterhood, and family.
Julian shook his head to rid himself of the powerful tug of Desari’s enchanting magic. He glanced at Darius. “She is unique in my world. I marvel every time I hear her.”
Darius was busy searching the area around them, all senses alert. “As I do,” he replied sincerely. The women had extraordinary powers. Although he had had the privilege of knowing them for centuries, it had not lessened his memories of admiration of and awe at the women’s incredible gifts. Darius remembered his pride and love for them and held tightly to that memory. No one would harm his women.
Julian’s shape was already contorting as he launched himself skyward, wings spread wide so that the sharp eyes of the bird could catch anything unusual on the ground below. He had a much wider range of vision from above. He studied the blackened area, looking for anything that jarred the line of the landscape, no matter how slight it might be. He knew Darius would seek the vampire using the ability they all had to feel faint shifts in the air or land itself. Darius was a very dangerous male, one a Carpathian even as powerful and experienced and confident as Julian was would not want to have to battle. This vampire had not lived as long as he had without knowing it would be tantamount to suicide to go against one such as Darius. They were dealing with a truly powerful ancient.
Julian concentrated on blocking out everything but what he must find. The real threat to Darius would come from another direction. The undead would be wrestling the combined strength of Desari’s voice and Barack’s determination to reclaim Syndil. Julian believed in Desari’s love for Syndil and Barack’s determination that no one would ever harm her again. He was certain they could hold Syndil to them while Darius battled whatever the undead could throw at him.
Julian, within the body of the circling bird, caught a slight movement in a blackened tree a few feet from Darius. The bark, already wracked with pain, dying a slow death, seemed to ripple once. Julian fixed his eyes on it. It rippled again, and the tree trunk itself began to split apart. Darius was moving now, away from the tree toward the middle of the burned landscape. The twisted, blackened ruins of what had once been a beautiful forest looked suddenly sinister, as tree branches reached out-like eerie stick people. Darius was being drawn into the very center of the trap, the vampire deliberately showing a blank space where he wanted Darius to go. High above, the bird circled the blackened land and watched as several charred trees began to ripple like waves, the bark separating from the trunks, long black shadows moving silently to surround the tall, broad-shouldered man.
Darius,
Julian whispered in the leader’s mind.
J am aware of them. They are not aware of you. Has Desari anchored Syndil to us yet?
Darius continued moving toward the center of the blackened forest. He looked neither right nor left, striding with easy, fluid steps, as if out for a mere walk. No one would have guessed he was communicating with another or that he had a single care in the world.
Julian noticed he had shifted his line of travel slightly so that he was veering toward the west.
Desari drew Syndil back toward us enough to give Barack a chance to merge his spirit with Syndil’s. They are together, all three matching their strength against the power of the vampire. He must abandon his minions to their own fate if he wishes to capture her. He will go for her body if he cannot take possession of her spirit.
Julian knew Darius’s assessment of the situation was correct. Julian would have to keep the undead from Barack and Syndil’s bodies. He could not afford to turn too much attention to Darius’s coming battle. He would have his own soon enough. Barack and Syndil’s flesh-and-blood bodies must be guarded at all costs.
Above the bird, dark storm clouds began to gather. They were large and ominous, filled to overflowing with water and energy. The arcing of lightning lit the sky, followed quickly by the rumble of thunder, as if heralding the opening to the great battle.
Not fire,
Julian urged quickly.
J am not completely without sense. These creatures are honed in fire. Fire will only increase their power.
Darius sounded as calm as ever, without expression of any kind.
Within the bird’s body, Julian found himself smiling despite the danger surrounding them. Darius was a warrior. He had total and complete confidence in his own abilities. Julian found himself believing that confidence was well-founded.
Lighting flashed from cloud to cloud, long whips of fiery energy. Thunder crashed directly overhead, slamming the earth with a roar of sound, shaking the ground with tremendous vibrations. The black shadow figures seemed to flinch at the sound, their strange shapes contorting, lengthening, so that they appeared to be thin caricatures of humans clothed in long, hooded robes, empty, staring sockets where their eyes should have been, the slashes of their mouths gaping open and moaning low and incessantly. The robed figures stretched their tree-branch arms outward and began to form a loose circle around Darius.
Still the leader did not look toward them. His pace did not falter, nor did he appear to hear the awful groans escaping from the ghouls pursuing him. Once he shook his head slightly so that his long ebony hair fell around his shoulders loosely, giving him even more the appearance of an ancient warrior. He looked what he was—a dangerous fighter, his face harsh and merciless. There was no pity in his black eyes, no compassion for those fashioned by the undead.
The shadow figures began to murmur softly, an ancient chant as they circled toward the left, the ring loose and flowing as they appeared to float above the charred earth.
Julian felt his heart slam hard in his chest. A binding from the depths of darkness. Could Darius possibly know a counterspell? It was difficult not to become too absorbed in what was happening below him, not to rush to aid. Julian’s task was to watch those two bodies, to ensure that no harm came to them. He circled lazily above Barack and Syndil, watching the earth for signs of disturbance. His mind was still merged partially with Desari, that he might know the battle they waged with Syndil for her freedom from the undead’s trap. The vampire was patient, pulling at Syndil relentlessly, bending his will to one purpose only. His best chance was to draw Syndil’s spirit away from Desari and Barack, that he might triumph.
Desari was a formidable opponent, her beautiful voice casting a safety net of silver and gold for Syndil’s spirit to wrap itself in. The tone was so pure that the undead, without soul, wholly evil as he was, found the voice diminishing his immense skills. He was unclean, and the purity of the notes was a gentle but powerful reminder of the foul, vile path he had deliberately chosen for himself. He saw himself as clearly as if Desari were holding a mirror to his face. The long centuries showed on his face, his skin rotten and decayed, peeling from his skull in long strips. Worms crawled through his body, and the vileness of his existence was laid bare for him to see. Poison blood, taken from dying humans and Carpathians alike, dripped like acid along his skin, pitting what once had been smooth flesh; it seeped from his flame-red eyes and oozed along the talons that were his fingernails. His fetid breath was a visible hue of green and yellow, and his hideous voice was a hiss of grating sounds in such stark contrast to the purity of Desari’s beautiful voice that he pressed both hands over his ears and screamed in agony. As he did so, he lost, for one small moment, his hold on Syndil.
Immediately, as if he had been waiting for just such a reaction, Barack’s grip on Syndil became more firm, his spirit so completely merged with hers that he felt her horror of the attack
. It encompassed her mind, filled her with self-loathing. She believed she had somehow drawn the evil to her, that she was endangering the rest of her family by staying with them.
Julian felt the sudden hesitation in Desari, the small cry of denial as Syndil made an attempt to slip away from Barack. The Carpathian male, so much more easygoing than any Julian had ever met, suddenly displayed a will of iron. Syndil came up against the solid barrier of Barack’s will.
The vampire roared his anger, the sound in competition with the cracking of thunder. Barack held fast. There was a quiet confidence in him. Syndil would not be taken from them. He was willing to die should it be necessary to prevent such a thing. The moment she felt his total resolve, Syndil once again threw her strength in with Barack and Desari’s, moving backward slowly but steadily toward her body.
The bird watched the ground carefully now, could see the upheaval as the straggle intensified between the vampire’s vicious resolve and Barack, Desari, and Syndil’s stand. Movement caught the bird’s eye as Darius reached the epicenter of the trap. At once the wind picked up in strength, wailing in protest as the circling ghouls moaned and clacked their branch-stick arms together in an old, rhythmic beat accompanying their chant. Darius stopped moving and raised his head slowly toward the sky, his arms wide-spread, as if offering himself to the distorted shadows. He stood in complete stillness, a marble figure without expression. The ghouls’ voices rose horribly, the sound grating on nerves and tearing at the Carpathian’s mind.
The ancient chant, which had been muffled before, now was audible to Julian, and he could understand the words. He had known deep within his soul what they were trying to do, but hearing the binding spell, seeing the shadowed figures closing the ring tighter and tighter around Darius, dismayed him. He had no real idea of Darius’s understanding of the language or what the words could evoke. Darius did not seem in the least concerned with what the undead had wrought to slay him. He looked serene, completely at peace, and it instilled in Julian a new respect and deeper belief in Desari’s brother’s abilities.
When the attack came, it was preceded by a sudden chilling silence. The robed shadows with their sunken pits for eyes went motionless and silent, their upraised branches growing sharpened points, several knives protruding from each stump. Darius remained as still as a statue, the wind whipping his ebony hair around his face. He stood as straight as an arrow, his broad shoulders like an ax handle, his powerful body radiating strength and elegance.
Julian actually felt the gathering of power in the air. It vibrated around him. Below, the ghouls began their rush at Darius. Near the motionless bodies of Syndil and Barack, the ground swelled until it bulged ominously. Julian began his descent, forcing his mind to stay focused on his own battle. When it struck, the strength of the attack was enormous. For a moment Julian couldn’t breathe, his lungs fighting for air, so that it was only his tremendous discipline that allowed him to remain calm. In the next heartbeat he realized the attack was directed at Desari. The undead had bypassed Syndil and Barack to trace Desari’s beautiful voice back to the source. He was striking directly at her, projecting his will to choke the life out of the source of that voice.
The vampire knew her through Julian. He had betrayed his own lifemate.
The ugliness, the shame, the horror of that childhood moment rose up to engulf him, so that for one moment he was a boy again facing an utterly terrifying monster. The vampire had whispered to him for over five hundred years, whispered of using him to harm those he was loyal to. His Prince. His twin. His lifemate, should he ever have one. Julian had studied, experimented, battled hundreds of years to prepare himself for this moment, certain he could protect those around him from the eyes of the shadow within him. But he had betrayed his beloved Desari.
No!
Desari reached for him, her fear choking her but her warmth invading the coldness of his bones, of that terrible haunting moment that had changed his life for all time and driven him to a barren, lonely existence.
He found
you
through
me!
It is but a trick. Keep to your duty. Ignore the undead’s grip on me.
Every instinct in him cried out that that was illogical. He knew he had felt her panic, her throat closing. His mind was still partially merged with hers, and his body was so tuned to hers that he shared her pain and fear. But could what she said be the truth?
As her lifemate, his entire being, every nerve, muscle, and sinew in him screamed at him to go to her, to aid her, to join his strength with hers. He agonized over it for what seemed an eternity yet was but a heartbeat. He had waited for this moment, prepared for this moment, for centuries. He did the most difficult thing he had ever done. He closed his mind solidly to his lifemate.
Julian plunged straight toward the bulge in the soil, moving relentlessly toward the two helpless bodies. The undead had no choice when he realized his attempt to distract Julian had failed. The vampire had to release his grip on Desari and remove the energy holding his trap in place so that Syndil and Barack’s spirits were free to return to their own bodies. He needed every vestige of power he had to fight the hunter. His merciless enemy. The enemy he had created.
He had sensed Julian’s presence only when he had traced the source of the voice holding his prey with so much strength from him. Enraged, he had thought to destroy the woman, yet he had sensed the larger threat to him. He then recognized through her the boy he had made into a merciless, relentless solitary killer. For centuries he had tormented Julian from across time and distance. Until, one day, recently, without warning, he could no longer connect totally with the shadow within Savage. The boy had become far stronger than the vampire had imagined. Now he knew he had no option but to destroy Julian, or at least seriously wound him to give himself time to escape. For the first time in hundreds of years, he felt something close to fear.
The leader of the group was engaged in battle with his ghouls, but the ghouls’ movements were directed by him. If he had to withdraw from them, Darius would certainly triumph and join this new threat to destroy him. With a vulgar cry of rage, the undead burst from beneath the earth, flying straight toward Julian with daggerlike talons stretching toward his enemy’s eyes.
Julian was shape-shifting as he closed the distance to the vampire. He stretched into a long, scaled serpentine creature shooting out of reach of the talons and breathing a burst of flames over the half-man half-beast rushing toward him.
The vampire screamed as the fire poured over him, withering the twisted talons back into curled fingernails stained and blackened with the blood of his many victims. The undead whirled in midair and slashed at Julian’s exposed chest.
Chapter Sixteen
Desari felt the touch of unclean hands wrapped around her throat. As the hideous grip tightened, she felt the shock of the monster’s discovery. This was the ancient, the undead who had destroyed Julian’s childhood. Whatever this evil thing had wanted before, it now wanted to destroy her lifemate. Focused on capturing the weakened Syndil, and busy studying the family unit, it had not even known that Julian was close until it had touched her.
The moment
Nosferatu
had traced Desari’s voice back to her, he had scented Julian as surely as if he had been standing beside her. She was angry with herself for not masking Julian’s presence in her mind or his scent on her body. She was certainly skilled enough to accomplish such a minor thing; she just hadn’t thought of it. In all their talks of partnership, she always acknowledged Julian the superior in battle, yet she had considered herself up to whatever was necessary. Now she was ashamed and embarrassed by her failure to protect him.
As the all too real illusion of bony fingers around her neck tightened even more, she simply stayed still, her voice not coming from her throat but from her heart, pouring out of her like a silver stream of love and compassion, of fearless strength and eternal honor. The vampire could not maintain his hold for long f
rom a distance. Her neck began to grow warm, distracting her for a moment until she realized the undead’s fingers were being burned by the touch of her skin. Was that something Julian was doing? Desari detached herself from her body so that she would not feel the skeletal fingers attempting to choke the life out of her, attempting to silence the purity of her voice for all time.
She knew the vampire was not actually touching her. It was an illusion, one that could kill but still an illusion. Desari didn’t falter with her song, not for an instant. She kept her thoughts centered on Syndil.
Stay with me. Stay with us. I will always need you in my life. Never leave us. Do not allow your precious gift to go from this world when it is so badly needed. Stay with me, Syndil. Beloved sister, my grief would know no bounds were we to lose you. Stay with me. Fight this monster who threatens to take you from your true family. Never deprive those of us who love and respect you of your presence in our lives.
The notes of the music said even more than the words. They sang of deep emotion, of loving. They sang of compassion and understanding, of a need so great, of love that could never be shaken, the complete, unconditional love of a sister.
The notes and the emotion ensnared Syndil as nothing else could have. Syndil’s guilt was overwhelming her, filling her gentle soul until her heart cried droplets of ruby-red blood. She believed she had somehow summoned this demon, this vampire who was determined to destroy her entire family. If she gave herself to him, if she sacrificed the rest of her life, perhaps she could save them. He was continually pulling at her, feeding her guilt. He was confusing her mind so that she didn’t know what was real and what he had wrought with his trap. Had her soul cried out to his, begged him to find her, to release her from her endless existence, as he was insisting?
No!
That was Barack. There was something different in him these days. He had denied a sibling relationship with her, ordered her around as if he had the right and she had not earned her place within their family unit. Yet he had put his life on the line, fighting one of the undead when it had come for her, wanting her to join its ranks of filth and vileness. Even now, Barack was not allowing this evil one to take her.
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