He was tired. Exhausted. He kept his focus on Tatijana, holding her close while he fed her life-giving blood. He was grateful to Gregori, so torn up, but selflessly healing Tatijana, putting her before his own injuries.
Falcon came to stand beside Fen. “You and Gregori need a little healing of your own,” he pointed out, offering his own wrist. “I offer freely,” he added in the tradition of the Carpathian people.
Fen hesitated. It had been long since he’d trusted anyone but Dimitri.
“You need it,” Falcon told him. “For her. Do you remember me? You were a few years older. You helped to hone my fighting skills.”
Fen inclined his head. He had to shift Tatijana in his arms, propping her against his chest while he continued to give her as much blood as he could. It was slow going, as he basically had to swallow for her. He bent his head to Falcon’s proffered wrist. The ancient blood hit him with a rush of strength, in spite of his horrendous wounds.
He could feel the difference in Tatijana, the way Gregori meticulously repaired the damage done to her belly and sides. Her arms were torn with bite marks and multiple lacerations. Gregori’s body was ravaged and torn as well, but he took his time, ensuring he missed nothing.
The moment he was back in his own body, swaying with weariness, Jacques was there, one arm going around the healer and the other offering him blood. “This looks like one heck of a battle,” he said. “In all my years, I’ve never run into a rogue pack.”
Fen politely sealed the small wounds in Falcon’s wrist. “This is a big pack. Two vampires/wolves called the Sange rau by the Lycans who run with them.”
All three Carpathians exchanged long looks and then turned their full attention on Fen. He shifted Tatijana in his arms. “The vampires are crosses, both Lycan and vampire. I knew Bardolf, an alpha Lycan. That was many years ago. A vampire cross had torn through packs, completely destroying entire packs, and I joined the hunt for him. Evidence looked as though Bardolf had killed him. Instead, they must have joined forces. I tracked them here.”
“Who is guarding the prince with both of you here?” Gregori demanded of Falcon and Jacques. “He sent you after me, didn’t he?”
Fen hid a smile at the sheer frustration in Gregori’s voice.
“At least he didn’t come himself, this time,” Jacques pointed out. “That’s a first for him. Must be his son mellowing him out.” He grinned down at Gregori. “You’re a little worse for wear. I can’t let you go home this way. Savannah would have my head. Let me see what I can do to heal you while Falcon works on . . .” Deliberately he waited.
“Fen. Fenris Dalka,” Fen stated. He pinned Falcon with a steely gaze. “It’s imperative I remain Lycan to those in this area. The elite hunters are on their way. A man by the name of Zev is staying at the inn. He’s the scout sent out ahead of the hunters. To do that, he has to be the elite of the elite. Believe me, I saw him in action, and he’s even better than I could describe. They’re hunting their own killers just as we hunt ours.”
“Why would you want them to think you’re Lycan rather than Carpathian?” Gregori asked. He ignored the fact that Jacques hadn’t waited to get his permission to heal his wounds.
Fen shrugged. “Lycans do not tolerate a mix between Lycan and Carpathian. They believe once they turn vampire, they are far too destructive and too difficult to kill. I have no idea how Carpathians weigh in on the issue.”
Gregori frowned at him. “I have never really seen or heard of a Lycan/Carpathian cross until MaryAnn and Manolito De La Cruz sent us word that she was Lycan and their blood mixed rather than one taking over the other. Is there some reason why we should have a problem with a Lycan/Carpathian cross? We’ve always been friends with the Lycan and vice versa. Carpathians and vampires are not the same, they know that.”
“Master vampires are extraordinarily difficult to kill,” Fen said. Already the influx of Falcon’s blood and the healing the Carpathian had done had given him more strength, but he was utterly exhausted. He needed to go to ground. And he needed to get Tatijana to ground. “A vampire/wolf cross is a hundred times that difficult. The destruction and damage, the savagery of their kills is also a hundred times more. They are rare to come across, so few hunters know how to kill them.”
“But you do,” Gregori stated.
Fen sighed. “Knowing isn’t always enough, as you well know, hunter.”
“Gregori,” Jacques interrupted gently. “All three of you need to go to ground. Perhaps this discussion would better take place in my brother’s home at a later time.”
Gregori nodded his head. “Forgive me, Fenris, you do need to take Tatijana, who is clearly your lifemate, and go to ground.”
“I thank you for coming to our aid. I didn’t know about Abel at the time I tracked them here. And I only suspected Bardolf’s involvement with the rogue pack when I crossed their path and began tracking them. Also”—he frowned—“the pack is much larger than we first thought.”
Gregori stood up slowly, his body still reluctant to work properly after the terrible savagery of the rogue pack attack. “Please come to Mikhail’s home on your first rising to give us more information. We’d be grateful.”
Fen sighed. By rights, if he met the prince, he should swear fidelity, but he had to think like a Lycan. Be a Lycan. And the cycle of the full moon was starting. If he crossed paths with Zev, or his elite hunters, they would kill him and ask questions later. Life had gotten far more complicated.
The Carpathians were silent, waiting his decision. In the end, he simply nodded and took to the air, Tatijana in his arms. He made certain no one was following him before he circled around to the spot where he’d left his brother. He opened the earth above Dimitri—better to guard him—and settled in with Tatijana. Above him the soil poured in, covering them both. Leaves and debris swirled above their resting place and fell softly, naturally, covering the area as if it had never been disturbed.
6
Fen woke three risings beneath the earth, still sore, feeling bruised and battered, but he left Tatijana and Dimitri to find sustenance for them. He’d reassured Branislava each rising that Tatijana was mending well and would come to her as soon as she was properly healed.
He was well aware on his third night that he was now in the most perilous time where any Lycan would know immediately he wasn’t wholly one of them. He took care to conceal himself. As a rule, during this time, he stayed in the ground, avoiding any possible confrontation, but he didn’t have that luxury—and he knew the elite team would have joined Zev by this time.
He was a little surprised that, although it had been centuries for him, the Carpathian Mountains still felt like a home to him. He had traveled throughout the world, rather than remaining in one place, so he’d never truly found another environment to call home. The soil was extraordinary, and he’d forgotten what that mineral rich loam could feel like. Still . . .
He was worried about Dimitri. Dimitri’s belly wasn’t healing as well as he would have liked. He concealed himself in the fog, moving through the forest until he came upon the outskirts where a small farm had been carved out of the marsh. The farm backed up to a swampy area, but was neat and tidy. Stacks of hay were piled in the field farthest from the water. Horses tossed heads nervously and stomped hooves as he passed, the Lycan scent spooking them.
The farmer came out of his house, glancing toward the corral where the horses began to half rear and gallop around as if that would save them from a pack of wolves. The man disappeared back into his house and reemerged with a shotgun, looking over toward the nervous horses. Fen stayed in the mist as it circled through the field, swirling around the haystacks so they appeared as disembodied towers in the clouds.
The farmer stepped off the porch and again cautiously looked around. The horses trumpeted their distress over and over. Fen moved slower, allowing the wind to carry him above the corral. There was no way t
he horses would be in such a state over his scent. There was something else there, stalking the animals—or the farmer. There was no wolf pack closing in on the horses, or he would have seen them.
Fen kept his gaze on the farmer even as he moved cautiously in the midst of the dense fog creeping around him. Something moved along the ground. Something dark, twisted and ugly. The thing had crawled out of the swamp and dragged itself over the field, first toward the horses, then, when scenting the farmer, turned toward him.
Fen saw the disgusting creature huddled beside a boulder, positioning itself for the attack as the farmer drew near. Hastily, Fen shifted, to come striding out of the mist straight toward the owner of the farm. “Look out, man, step back,” he called, pushing compulsion into his tone.
Startled, the farmer did as Fen commanded. The twisted creature struck at him, fangs hooking his boot. It wiggled and growled, hissing its impatience. That small sliver of a shadow, a part of Bardolf, was still without a host it could influence to do evil. Animals could sustain its life, but certainly could never be used for the purpose Bardolf intended.
“What is it?” the man asked, shaking his boot and trying to knock the animal loose with the shotgun.
“A deadly creature,” Fen answered honestly. “A vampire’s familiar.” He knew most of the folks living around the village were superstitious—they believed in vampires—mostly because they’d had encounters with them even though the rest of the world made fun of them. They knew evil existed and they did their best to guard against it. The farmer made the sign of the cross and slammed his shotgun down on the wriggling creature.
Fen kicked it away from the farmer, produced a silver knife and plunged it into the ghastly creature, a cross between an eel and a snake. The creature screamed and writhed, black blood pouring from it. With it came the elusive shadow—a sliver of Bardolf. The sliver leapt toward the farmer, determined to live, to make its way back to its master.
Fen withdrew the knife from the twisted creature and threw it. The blade sliced cleanly through the shadow, pinning it to the ground. A great eye formed in the middle, staring at them with hatred and malice—a combination of Bardolf and Abel. The eye was evil, vertical rather than horizontal. The silver knife penetrated exactly in the middle of the eye. Black blood burst around the pupil and dripped on the ground, forming a dark pool.
The eye squealed, the pitch rising to a horrendous shriek as it wriggled and fought to become free. Fen swept the farmer behind him protectively, as the two vampires fought with concentrated strength to free the shadow. The eye convulsed, and a puff of black smoke burst the pupil and the light began to slowly fade as the shadow lost its life. With one last fading cry the shadow went limp and completely dark.
The farmer stepped around Fen and spit right in the middle of the pool of black blood before turning to face the hunter. He bowed awkwardly. “Thank you. You saved me. I’ve never had the honor of meeting one of our guardians.” He smiled, his eyes lighting up. “We hear the rumors you know, but we can go lifetimes without ever knowing if they’re true or not.”
“For your own safety,” Fen pointed out. “Stand way back. I have to incinerate this quickly. You don’t want infected vampire blood anywhere near your fields.”
Fen waited until the farmer moved off to a safe distance and he stared up at the sky, drawing in churning dark clouds. Thunder rolled ominously. Lightning forked, sizzling, spreading out, nearly blinding them with the bright flash of light. He felt the ground charging, the energy flowing through his body. He extended his arm toward the black blood, hideous creature and malevolent eye. Lightning leapt from ground to sky and back again. The stench nearly choked them both. Black tendrils of smoke rose and dissipated in the air, leaving a clean, fresh scent. The creature, eye and pool of blood incinerated as if they never had been.
Fen turned toward the stunned farmer. The man stood there with his mouth slightly open, curved in a half smile, clearly totally shocked and awed. He flashed Fen a quick grin.
“I know I will have to go to my grave with this memory secret, but I thank you for the experience.”
Bardolf and Abel had both seen the farmer. They might very well decide to attack and kill him, just to get back at Fen. At the very least, they would send members of the pack to kill his livestock as well as his family. Ordinarily there were few humans left with the knowledge of the Carpathian people, even there in the Carpathian Mountains.
“These vampires are extremely dangerous. They run with a pack of rogue werewolves they control. You and your family will be targeted. Is there a possibility of taking your family to safety and perhaps a neighbor would take your livestock?”
The farmer looked scared, but he shook his head. “I can send my wife and children to her mother’s, but I’ll have to run the farm myself. If I lose my livestock, or leave, we’ll lose everything.” He swept his arms out. “This is all we have. A man takes care of his family.”
Fen sighed. He could see the farmer’s point, but he wouldn’t be taking care of his family if they were all dead. “Send them away tonight. Pack light and tell them not to return until you send for them. Forgive me, but in order to safeguard you as much as possible, I will have to take your blood, and give you a very small amount of mine. You will be able to reach me in an emergency. Even if I am too far away, I can send aid to you. The choice is yours.”
If the farmer refused, Fen would have to allow him to be on his own. He would have no choice but to remove his memory of Fen’s visit, which would make him ten times more vulnerable.
The farmer bowed formally a second time, this time with a deeper bow. “It would be an honor.” He paused. “Does it hurt?”
Fen shook his head. “You won’t feel anything at all.”
The farmer stepped close, shotgun in his hands, exposing his throat. Fen gently removed the shotgun just as a precaution. He slipped into the man’s mind. Costin Eliade had grown up on a farm as had his father before him. He was a good man, worked hard, was devoted to his wife and family. He was frightened, but hiding it well, determined to do whatever it took to protect his family and farm.
Fen was both careful and respectful in the taking of the farmer’s blood. He took enough to feed and then soothed the man’s anxiety, keeping him from being aware as Fen gave him a small amount of his own blood. Any time he reached out to Costin, he would know where the farmer was, what he was thinking or doing. He would know the instant there was betrayal—or trouble. He put a strong barrier in his mind, a warning that if he tried to give up the information about the incident to anyone—including his wife—he would be forever on his own.
Costin’s intentions were admirable and he seemed a very honest man. Fen could find no hint of duplicity in his mind whatsoever. He meant to keep the Carpathian’s secrets. Fen made certain there was no evidence on the man or his clothes that blood had been taken before stepping away, although one hand remained on the farmer to steady him. Perhaps he’d taken a little more blood than necessary, because he had both Tatijana and Dimitri to provide for.
“Get your family out of here tonight. I’ll send aid to watch over your farm, both day and night until we locate and destroy the rogue pack and vampires. The moment that deed is done, I’ll let you know,” Fen assured the farmer.
The wind came in from the north, blowing with it a heavy fog. Gregori strode out of the dense mist, his shoulders wide, his silver eyes blazing. His sharp glance went from the farmer to the blackened ground and then to Fen. He raised a single eyebrow.
Fen managed to stop his grin just before it emerged. Of course Gregori would be suspicious of him. He was a stranger and with him had come two Sange rau and a rogue werewolf pack. Gregori didn’t want those enemies anywhere near the prince. No matter how severe his wounds, he wouldn’t trust his prince’s safety to anyone else.
Clearly Gregori was already scanning the farmer’s mind. He found the data needed and how Fen h
ad destroyed the sliver of evil Bardolf and Abel had used to gain information. It was far easier and much more polite to pull the information from the farmer’s mind. He wasn’t questioning Fen or demanding why he would break a very hard rule, leaving memories of the Carpathian people in Costin Eliade.
He held out his hand to the farmer. “I’m Gregori. I understand you may need a little help protecting your farm.”
Costin nodded. “Very much so. They sent a familiar, and he killed it.” He gestured toward Fen.
“You’ll need protection during the day as well,” Fen said. “Rogue packs can be out in the sun. They’ll usually come at you at dusk or dawn, but in this case, the alpha will send them in during the part of the day our people are unable to protect you.”
“We’ve got a few people who can aid you,” Gregori assured.
They can never, under any circumstances, be here if the Sange rau show up. The combination of vampire and wolf is powerful beyond belief, and killing them is extremely hard. Fen sent the information on the common Carpathian mental path.
Gregori didn’t look at him or give it away they were in communication. I am certain you will be coming this rising to give us the information we need to destroy these vampires of mixed blood.
“I would be most grateful for anyone you can send,” Costin admitted.
“At night, you will be protected by a couple of us, but your real danger is during the day,” Fen said. “Should you have need, reach for me. Use your mind, even if you have to use your fear. I will hear you.”
Gregori turned slashing silver eyes on Fen. You can walk in the sunlight? There was no mistaking the edge of alarm in his voice. He didn’t exactly try to cover it up.
Fen barely inclined his head. If necessary, although it is not easy. He was not giving out any more information until Gregori shared more data with him. He turned to leave.
Dark Lycan (Carpathian) Page 11