Her presence swirled through his mind and her voice spoke in his head. I'm going to kill you this time. Uncle Malthus won't mind at all. He's killing your grandpa.
"No, please, Darmyk moaned. He felt his life vanishing down their throats as he weakened, his heartbeat fluttering.
He sensed her amusement at his plea. Ros sucked harder, savagely. Darmyk's vision grayed. Fear gripped him. He convulsed and went still.
Lyrri lifted her bloody face from Darmyk's wrist, licking around her lips. Is he dead? she asked with detached curiosity.
Ros swiped the neck wound with her tongue to close it and regarded her sister. Not yet. Shall we finish him?"
"I'd like that."
"Then let's do. Ros bent her head to Darmyk's throat and renewed her feeding.
* * * *
Kynyr walked Searlait back to the manor and headed upstairs to find Claw sitting up in bed with his checkers on a lap table. His gaze fell upon the two paintings that had not been there the day before, and they drew him. Kynyr glanced at the auburn-haired young wolf in the left painting and then stared at the blond in the other. It was the image of what he saw in the mirror each day when he shaved.
"There's no damned difference, Claw growled. You're my son come back to me."
The air around Kynyr seemed to chill and a cold hand ran fingers down his spine. I never realized..."
He shook himself, prying his gaze from the portrait of his grandfather.
"Have you come for a game? Claw set the checkers on the board. Now that Sheradyn has declared me a useless old mon, I don't know what to do with myself."
"You'll never be useless, Claw. Kynyr sat down across from him. I feel like the hand of fate is on everything I do. You haven't seen my baby brother yet ... He was born with a full head of auburn hair."
"Like Logan."
"Yes. Except that there's no red hair in our family."
"Hah! You should have seen Sorcha."
"Your mother?"
"Yes. There's a portrait of her in the North Hall. I'm looking forward to meeting your family at the wedding."
"You'll get to meet them ... but there isn't going to be a wedding."
"Why not?"
"Kady and went to the Clerk of Records last night. We're already married."
"Why'd you want to go and do that? Now you'll have all the bitches growling at you."
Kynyr explained about the letter and Brother Malcolm. I want to go quietly. The moon will be full in three days. I'll assemble the baggage train at my home, hand-pick twenty soldiers, and leave with no one being the wiser until long after we're gone."
"What about drivers?"
"I don't trust the grooms to keep their mouths shut. I'll ask Cahira to fetch our kin."
"Good plan."
"Kynyr! Merissa entered the room breathing hard. Darmyk's missing. I can't find him."
Kynyr came from his chair fast. I'll look. Tell Belgair to get myn to comb the gardens. Have Kissie and the servants search the building."
* * * *
The guard annex connected to the west wing of the manor, part of the newest addition to the place. Off duty guards lounged at the various tables, eating and drinking, and playing games to pass away the extra time. Malthus sat at a table in their common room playing cards with Belgair.
"Claw's heart attack has me worried, Malthus said. We need to be certain that there are plenty of people watching him to see that he doesn't overdo or tax himself."
Belgair regarded his cards, pulled at his nose, and then nodded. Old Claw's stubborn that way. Sheradyn and Aisha will have their hands full keeping him out of the fields."
"Just so, Malthus said, punctuating his words with an appropriate sigh. The clan needs Claw. He's a canny leader."
"He's that."
Malthus tossed some cards down. Dealer takes three."
"I've got an ugly hand. Give me four. Belgair held onto a single card. You're right. If he's not going to take care of himself, then we should take care of him. Take the work out of his hands if necessary. There's nothing he can do with the herds that can't be done by a younger mon."
Malthus dealt to them both. Exactly. I worry what it would do to Merissa if something happened to her father. She loves him."
"Yah. They've always been close."
"Malthus! Belgair! Merissa rushed in, worry written large on her face. I can't find Darmyk. I've looked everywhere."
Malthus rose from his chair. Have you checked the treehouse?"
Merissa's eyes dropped and she pressed her hands to her swollen belly. I can't climb the ladder."
"Have you called out to him? Belgair asked, folding his cards, and coming to his feet.
"If he's up there, he doesn't answer me, Merissa said.
"I'll check the treehouse, Malthus said. Belgair, could you gather some myn and search the grounds? Malthus made a point of not framing his words in such a way that Belgair would think he had usurped his authority.
"Aye."
Malthus left through the guards door into the yard and went to the treehouse. He gripped the rope ladder, gazed up at it, and called Darmyk's name. When he received no answer, Malthus discreetly extended his necromantic awareness in a low-level scan. Someone was there. Malthus climbed the rope ladder and perched on the edge. Then he got his feet under him and went inside. Darmyk lay upon the bed, his face pale and pasty with a bluish tinge to his lips. His head dangled limply off the edge revealing a long smear of dried blood on his neck.
Malthus threw another scan through the treehouse, reaching into the upper story, and found a strong residue that tasted like Ros and Lyrri. They were not up there now, but they were only minutes gone. Malthus guessed they must have fled along some of the huge branches that pressed against the windows, and gone into the manor. Only the fear of getting caught and Read could have forced Ros to take that route with her damaged leg and risk falling. The girls must have heard Merissa calling for Darmyk.
"Damn it, Ros, Malthus muttered, remembering how she had told him that Darmyk would not last and he had forbidden her to bite him. Everything had to be done in the right order. First Claw would die and then Darmyk. Not the other way around. Malthus grasped Darmyk's wrist and Read him. The boy was barely alive. Then he saw the oozing tear in the child's other wrist. What the hell were you doing? Feeding Lyrri too?"
Malthus settled Darmyk against his shoulder and headed down the ladder. He heard several voices, glanced, and saw that people had gathered. Merissa, her aunts, Fianait and Searlait, and Lawgiver Caimbeulwhere the hell had he come fromas well as several of the nibari. Merissa had her knuckles in her mouth, trying not to scream at the way that Darmyk rested limp against Malthus shoulder, his arms dangling.
Kynyr Maguire, Robert Morcar, Erskine Faraday, and Vayle Stewart ranged behind Caimbeul, making the situation all the more fraught with danger for Malthus.
Once down, Malthus shifted the boy in his arms and cradled him.
Fianait's brows knit. What's wrong with the poor little cub?"
Caimbeul stepped forward scowling, flipped Darmyk's wrist to expose the wound, and turned the cub's head so that the smear of blood showed. What happened?"
"There were bats on him. I drove them out. That lawgiver is far too nosy. He'll have to die like the last one.
Caimbeul's eyes narrowed and he regarded Malthus suspiciously. Give him to me, Caimbeul said in a voice that brooked no argument.
Malthus scanned the faces, wanting to refuse, and knowing that the lycans might easily take it wrong. Kynyr had a look in his eyes that suggested he hoped Malthus would misstep. Malthus could not risk the gains he had made so far.
Kynyr gestured to his companions. Caimbeul has it under control. Come on. There's something that needs doing."
Malthus felt a flutter of trepidation, wondering exactly what Kynyr was going after.
However, when no one was looking, he would punish Ros. Malthus understood that Ros had been obsessing on Darmyk for months and her prematurely adole
scent appetites were hard to control; however, if she kept this up someone would discover that she already had her fangs. Malthus yielded Darmyk to Caimbeul.
"Where's his bedroom? the lawgiver asked.
"I'll show you, Fianait said, and she led him into the manor with the others following.
Searlait, Claw's youngest sister, put her arm around Merissa's shoulders. They both had the distinctive ginger hair that had first attracted Malthus to Merissa, although Searlait's had begun to fade with age and had white sprinkled through it, including a heavy strand at her temple. Sheradyn will help him. Don't you worry, child."
Aisha was standing in the foyer when they entered; her hand flew to her mouth as a strangling sound emerged. Darmyk."
"Which way? Caimbeul asked, overpowering any hesitancy wrought of worry in the bitches surrounding him.
Aisha gave a quick nod and headed for the stairs. This way."
Caimbeul followed Aisha to Darmyk's room, placed the cub in his bed, and covered him. He Read the cub and then shook his head. Fetch the healer. He's dangerously ill and weak. Whatever fed on him took him to the edge."
Malthus licked his lips, wondering at Caimbeul's use of the sa'necari term: to be taken to the edge meant that after a few sips more the victim's heart would fail.
Caimbeul continued to examine the wounds. Too small for any sa'necari I've ever seen. I'm not seeing the distinctive scrape marks left by most vampires. He lifted his gaze and pinned Malthus. You say you saw bats?"
Malthus nodded. His memory traced the details of the bat form Sergei had used to feed upon Ros the first time Malthus caught them together. Set the lycans to watching for Sergei and maybe one of them will kill the goatfucker . Yes. Black with a brown patterning on their bellies. Over sized ears."
The crowd watching from the door into Darmyk's bedroom moved aside as Sheradyn arrived, carrying his satchel of medicinals on his shoulder. His assistant and lover, Gillivray, came along behind him. They were a mismatched pair in every way except ability. The aristocratic Sheradyn, educated in Creeya's finest medical school, dressed like a human in close-fitting buttoned pants and shirt, his long white hair, with only a single strand of his original russet color, hung well brushed and tied at his neck with a bit of black ribbon. Gillivray, eighty years his junior, slouched comfortably in his traditional lycan sashed robe and pants that would easily accommodate shape-shifting, and watched Sheradyn with a glance so fond it frequently embarrassed those around them. Sheradyn motioned Caimbeul away from Darmyk, pulled up a chair, and sat down by the bed. Taking Darmyk's small wrist in hand, Sheradyn Read the cub with an expression that grew steadily more serious. Finally, he shook his head. He's extremely weak. The blood loss is severe. But, I'll do what I can. Gillivray and I will take turns sitting with him tonight."
"Send for the priest, Caimbeul said.
Merissa gasped. My baby."
Searlait held Merissa tighter. Courage."
Caimbeul took Merissa's hand, his dark eyes kind. I didn't mean to imply he needed the prayers for the dying, Merissa. I want her to ward his window so that the bats or vampires or whatever they were, cannot get him again."
Merissa favored Caimbeul with a trembling smile. Thank you."
"The cub is sa'necari, I've never treated one of those, Sheradyn said.
Caimbeul pulled at his stubbled chin. He's a bit young, but you should try getting him to drink fresh blood. It might help. Bleed one of your nibari enough to fill a glass and mix it with fruit juice. Get that down him as often as he's willing to take it."
Sheradyn lifted an eyebrow at Caimbeul.
The lawgiver shrugged. I'm old, and I've been around."
* * * *
Once the crowds had departed, Kynyr circled back to the treehouse with Finn and Erskine. He put his hand on the rope ladder. I'm going to have a look around."
"Why? Finn stared up at the treehouse.
"Because I don't trust Malthus."
His companions followed him up the ladder and the three of them crowded into the treehouse. Kynyr changed at far into hybrid as he could without making the kendaryl armor he wore beneath his outer clothing uncomfortably tight. He spied a few drops of blood on the coverlet and put his nose to it, sniffing. This is where it happened. Double-check me, Erskine. You've got a good nose."
Kynyr straightened and moved aside.
Erskine lifted his head from the bedding, frowning. There's been no one here except for Ros, Lyrri, and Darmyk."
"That's what I was afraid of. Kynyr walked to the door and stared out. Keep it quiet, but we're riding to Hell's Widow in three days. I want every member of the unit in on this, and eleven others that you consider trustworthy. Picked myn. Those who started training with Todd... Kynyr started to add since Ramsey's death and swallowed the words back, leaving them unsaid. Following the death of his wife, Erskine had taken Ramsey under his wing, turning a youth into a soldier as a way of mitigating his private sorrows.
Erskine nodded. Something happen?"
"Amos is in trouble. His daughter was murdered."
"Which one? Finn eased back into human form.
"Sainy. Kynyr exhaled through his nostrils. Another thing. I want the members of the unit to go to the shop and tell Todd I sent them for armor and weapons."
"You got armor in the shop now? I didn't see it the last time I was there. Erskine joined Kynyr at the door.
"Not exactly. We've a room filled with kendaryl and rustrametan that we've been hoarding."
Finn let out a low whistle. Who's paying for this?"
"I am."
"First come, first pick?"
"Yeah."
"Mind if Erskine and I head over there now?"
"Go on. I can take care of matters here."
* * * *
Claw tipped himself forward in bed and grabbed his robe. A wave of dizziness hit him, and he sat still for a few breaths, letting it pass. The old wolf pulled the robe around him and sashed it closed, and then he swung his legs off the edge and stood up, using the furniture to keep his balance, walking from one piece to the other until he reached the door.
"Claw! Aisha exclaimed, coming in through the outer door to their suite. You should not be up."
He grumbled under his breath, tottered to the sofa, and sat down, feeling momentarily defeated by exhaustion. I want to see my grandcub."
Aisha shook her head at him, her white streaked gray hair hanging about her shoulders. When you're better."
"Now. I'm going noweven if I have to crawl. Claw's mouth settled into an obstinate line that Aisha knew all too well. Knowing the way people had been refusing to let Darmyk visit him, had added a twinge of guilt to his mood. If all the pushy people had not been keeping the cub away, Darmyk would have been with him, instead of in the treehouse alone,
"Then let me get someone to help you, old dog."
Claw glared. Aisha put her hands on her hips and glared back. He surrendered with a sigh. Go on old bitch and get me some help."
He had begun to worry about his family. The heart attack and the lingering weakness in his body made him feel, for the first time in his life, that he was no longer as able to protect them as he had once been. One thought led into another, and he found himself reliving the night Troyes died.
They had found a note from Isranon that Troyes had run off with Merissa. Claw flew into a rage and set after them with one hundred guardsmyn, all running as wolves with blood lust roaring in their veins, and a desire to simply tear Troyes apart. Aisha and his sisters had insisted upon going with them, certain that Merissa would need them.
Dawn light suffused the clearing as they plunged into it, growling.
Along the way, they had picked up mounted warriors from Angus battle-clan that dwelled in Red Wolf and had pledged allegiance to Claw.
Troyes body draped a stone sa'necari bleeding table on his belly, positioned for the rite of mortgiefan. Isranon lay wrapped in a blanket beside the table. He roused and caught the edge of the table, using it to
stand and once erect, he pushed away from it. His eyes flicked from Troyes body draping the altar to Claw.
"So, Isranon. Claw regarded him steadily, his head tilted and his eyes hard. Filthy sa'necari. They always turn. Sooner or later. Claw forced the thought away, reminding himself that this was still Isranon. Mort ta giefan at last."
"Nahn. Nahn mort ta giefan."
"You killed him. You drank from him. He is lying on that table. Is it yours? You cut him up good."
"Nahn. Nahn mort ta giefan."
"There was a rite. A rite, if not the rite. It's all right, man. Claw came closer. It's your nature. You're sa'necari. You took on his power."
Isranon's expression turned to horror. I am not a monster. Yes, I killed him and I drank from himI drank from him after he was dead. Not before. And I filled his bottles."
"The bottles he intended to fill with my blood, father. Merissa emerged from the cave.
"He said we would run away together. But it was a lie, just to get me to his table in the hills. She hung her head, her dark hair falling about her shoulders. A sob wrenched up from her stomach and forced its way through her throat, bursting at last from her lips. Aisha went to her, gathering her daughter in her arms. If Isranon had not followed us ... Isranon had to feed. He was desperately injured. It's all my fault. I filled the bottles."
"Merissa! Don't defend me! Isranon stepped toward her and faltered, crumpling, unconscious.
Nevin reached Isranon first, gathering the youth into his arms and pressing his head against his chest. He touched Isranon's forehead and then glanced at the crude bandages around his chest and stomach, noting the fresh stain. He's fevered and he's bleeding."
Merissa screamed Isranon's name, tearing herself free to kneel at his side. Father, I had to fill the preserving bottles with every single drop. Every bit of strong blood. Troyes nearly killed him."
Claw gave her a resigned, disgusted look. I'm going to beat hell out of you when we get home. I'd rather have you badly bruised and thinking than lying dead somewhere. See to him, he nodded at Isranon and then at the body on the table. Cut the asshole's heart out, I want to eat it. Always wanted to eat one of them. Two lycans moved to the table and began systematically butchering what remained of Troyes.
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