Christine Feehan 5 CARPATHIAN NOVELS

by Christine Feehan

  Byron smiled at her. “It is good to see you. Where is Vlad? Surely your lifemate did not allow you to travel unprotected?”

  “I am not without my own protections,” Eleanor reminded. “Vlad is here, and we have Josef with us. He wanted to visit other countries and see something of the world. We thought it best that we travel with him.”

  Byron couldn’t stop the small step away from her as the horror of her words penetrated. “Josef?” The name came out a croak. “You have not brought that horrid child with you. Not here? Near the palazzo?”

  “Byron, he is your nephew.” Eleanor sank onto the curved marble bench seat and glared up at her brother. “What a horrible reaction.”

  Byron shook his head. “Benj is my nephew. I will be more than happy to claim him, but Josef is an altogether different matter. There is no blood between us.”

  “He is my son. I took him when Lucia died in childbirth. I love him no less than Benj. I know he can be difficult—”

  “Difficult! The boy is a menace. Lucia had no business having another child. She was so old, an ancient spending most of her days in the ground and hiding from the changes around her. She had no intention of living in a modern world. What was she thinking to try such a thing?”

  “She was thinking of the preservation of our people. Byron, you are being overly harsh, and it is so unlike you.”

  “I am not being harsh, Eleanor, only truthful. The boy has done nothing but get in trouble almost since his first step.”

  “He was orphaned, Byron. He lost his parents the very day he was born.”

  “Most of us lost someone, Eleanor, and he didn’t even know Lucia and Rodaniver. You and Vlad have been his parents, and no one could have loved him more. Lucia and Rodaniver lived in the past; they would have made that boy’s life hell had they lived, and you know it. Now he just makes our lives hell.”

  “Byron!” Eleanor twisted her fingers together. “He needs love and understanding. You should make an effort with him. Guide him on the right path.”

  “Why do I get the feeling there is more to this visit than luck? You did not just happen to come to Italy, did you?” His black eyes began to smolder.

  Eleanor looked away from him. “Despite what you say, Josef is your nephew, and I think you should take an interest in him. He wants to paint. Italy is a wonderful country to paint in. Benj was too busy and could not escort Josef. He still needs looking after, and since you’re here…”

  “No! Emphatically no! I cannot possibly take care of a child. And I don’t want him anywhere near the palazzo.” Byron shuddered visibly. “He wears his pants ten sizes too big. In fact, when you took him to see Mikhail, he stood right there in front of our prince and his lifemate, wearing baggy pants, a ring in his lip, nose, and eyebrow.” He shook his head. “I do not want to know where else he had one, but every time he opened his mouth, I saw something hideous attached to his tongue. And even worse, he wanted to perform for them, and you let him.”

  “He was only a young boy, Byron, and it meant so much to him.”

  “I prefer Mozart and Chopin, opera and even the blues, but not rap. What was that horrible song he made up? I still hear it in my nightmares. I believe he spat a lot and made strange sounds before he graced us with the lyrics.” Byron showed his gleaming white teeth, his incisors slightly prominent as if he could take a bite out of his nephew. “It was so shocking, I cannot, nor ever will forget the lyrics. In case you have forgotten, they went like this: ‘I’m the man, / The man you can’t see, / An invisible man, you ought to fear me, / Fangs and cat’s eyes, / Your blood on my hands, / I come out at night when the moon rises high, / I’m a blood-sucking fiend, a most fearsome sight.’ I particularly enjoyed watching the prince’s face when he sang the blood-sucking fiend part and the refrain of ‘I want to suck your blood, blood, blood.’ ” Byron found he wanted to laugh at the memory, as he couldn’t those many years ago. “The only good thing that came out of that was it made Jacques laugh. I had not seen him laugh in years. It was the only reason I forgave Josef for such an obvious attempt to draw attention to himself.”

  “But Byron, he has such talent. Even then, and he was only a child, he was creative.” There was a small silence. Eleanor was exasperated with him. “He was only fifteen, and at that awful age. He is much older now.”

  “Do not give me that, sister dear. I heard he had taken to wearing all black, including a swirling black cape, and lying on graves in the cemetery with a group of his human friends. I heard he had so many rings in his bottom lip no one could look at him for fear of laughing.”

  “That is so unfair. Oh for heaven’s sake, all the children try things out. He was going through his Goth period, at least that’s what Vlad called it. That was years ago; he was only seventeen. You know by our standards, he is still a mere fledgling. He is your nephew, Byron, and he wants to visit other countries. It would not hurt you to show an interest in him. He needs attention.”

  “I do not care if he is a mere fledgling. The prince’s daughter was forced to take her lifemate as a mere fledgling, and she rose to the occasion.”

  Eleanor made a rude sound. “And you know exactly what I thought of that. How dare the prince sacrifice his own daughter’s childhood? It was an abomination. They deliberately tried to age her by sending her out on her own with only hidden guards to watch over her. She deserved a childhood. Mikhail has been around humans for so long, and Raven was human, so they they have forgotten our children are young for a much longer time. Fifty years, and they still do not have full power.”

  “We would have lost Gregori, our greatest healer, and ultimately, Savannah. You know that, Eleanor. All of you women were up in arms, but in truth, the prince had no choice in the matter.”

  “No child can learn what they need in that short of time. She was lucky to be able to shape-shift or even protect herself. I can forgive Raven. She was born human and thinks in terms of human aging. But Mikhail was desperate to save his second-in-command. No female ever had the males brought in while she was a mere child. Mikhail arbitrarily decided to introduce the practice of bringing in the males when they reached the age of eighteen in the hopes of finding lifemates. His daughter just happened to be the first. Two hundred was the coming of age, not a baby of eighteen. It was appalling. It was no wonder Savannah panicked and fled the country. I know her father sent protection, as did Gregori but, in truth, they allowed her to be on her own to help age her. I do not know a single woman who did not protest such an abomination. It is no wonder our race is dying out when our prince does not treasure his own child above his friend.”

  Byron sighed. “Mikhail is hardly responsible for the extinction of our race.” It was a long-standing argument he hoped Eleanor had gotten over. “Next you will be accusing him of being responsible for the inability to feed our children naturally.”

  Eleanor had the grace to look slightly ashamed. “I have no idea why we can no longer produce the perfect food for our children. All of us have discussed it at great length, and Shea has done much research.” There were tears in her voice. She wept for her people, for the mothers and babies who had lost so much.

  Byron put a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “I did not mean to make you feel such sorrow, Eleanor. Our males certainly do not blame our women for such a tragedy.” He kissed the top of her head in silent apology. “What happens to one of us happens to all. Every child saved, however we can manage to save them, every lifemate found, every male saved, even at the expense of a childhood, is a step forward for our people. Savannah was far too young. We all know that, but she rose to the occasion. Perhaps it was her bloodline, perhaps she is simply an extraordinary woman, but Gregori will care for her and protect her and aid her in learning the things she must learn.”

  Eleanor rubbed her forehead. “I know he will, and I know he is needed. It is just that our children have suffered so much already. So many die. Such a simple thing, feeding and caring for a child, yet we, of the earth, cannot do this si
mple service for our children. We cannot afford to take anything more away from them. If they need a full fifty years to mature enough to allow them on their own, so be it. What is that to give to a child?”

  “You are right, of course, Eleanor. I have every belief that Shea and Gregori will find an answer that will allow our women to once again carry our children without the loss of so many. And with that, you will be able to feed them with your own bodies as you were meant to do.”

  She took his hand. “You remember that Celeste and Eric had a son when we had Benjamin, and he did not survive? They have tried again, and the child was lost to them. She is very distressed, and Eric has taken her away to try to help her get over the loss. I know what it is like to watch a child die, to have a hole in my heart that will never go away. It is painful to see my friends suffering so. Vlad’s sister Diedre spends more and more time in the ground. I fear we will lose them if she becomes pregnant and does not succeed again. Tienn has refused to try again, afraid, as I am, that she would choose to meet the dawn.” She put her hand on his face, needing the contact with him. “I am so grateful that you have found your life mate. Cherish her. Live for her. And hopefully she will live for you, and that will be enough.”

  “There is hope, Eleanor,” he said softly.

  “Is there? I wish that were true. Perhaps if we had the wisdom of the wizards or their power, we would find a way, but the war between our peoples destroyed all ties. If any remain, their hatred runs deep, and they would wish the destruction of our race.”

  The wind rushed through the trees so they swayed and danced. The bushes in the maze shivered with awareness. Eleanor waved a dismissing hand. “I did not mean to be melancholy. I am filled with joy for you. It is good that we are together as a family again, you with your new lifemate. Josef will love to meet her. Give him a chance, Byron, and you will see what a wonderful boy he really is.”

  Byron sighed. “I’m doing my best to make a good impression on Antonietta. The last thing I want to do is have her see Josef dressed in his whirling black cape and baggy pants, singing rap.”

  “He was a child, that was a long time ago. All children try things. She will find him endearing and charming.”

  “Charming?” Byron made a face at her. “As I recall, he went from lying in cemeteries to slamming into other people in a pit during concerts where singers tried biting the heads off living creatures. Really, Eleanor, the boy needs discipline. I do not intend to be the one to deal with his problems. Certainly not now. I would cuff the boy a few times on his ears in the hopes he would behave like a rational being.”

  Eleanor sighed heavily. “Byron, he is no longer such a handful, and you are still thinking in human terms. You have been away so long.”

  “Am I? What about the makeup? He was definitely wearing makeup and dyeing his hair all sorts of colors. I do not see how that was keeping a low profile and blending in with society.”

  “Who told you that? I cannot believe someone told you. The old gossips. That was his androgynous period. And he was blending in with his own age group. All children have to find themselves, Byron.” Eleanor was outraged on her son’s behalf.

  Byron’s long-suffering brother-in-law Vlad had told him in great frustration, but Byron believed discretion was the better part of valor. He didn’t want Eleanor angry with her life mate. Byron forced a cajoling smile. “The point is, at this time, I am trying to court my lifemate, and I have no time to monitor a fledgling.”

  “We must meet her,” Eleanor leapt on that. “I cannot wait to see her.”

  Byron took both of his sister’s hands in his and drew her to her feet. “You know I want to introduce you and Vlad to Antonietta, but the thought of Josef going anywhere near her or her family is frightening.”

  “You face vampires, Byron. You can face your nephew.”

  Byron sighed. There was no way to win, and he knew it. It didn’t matter that he was a vampire hunter or a Carpathian male in full power. Eleanor was his sister, and like most Carpathian women, she was going to get her way. He might as well save himself the argument. “I will be happy to introduce all of you to Antonietta, but you must give me a period of time to adjust to having Josef around. He is not to do anything foolish.”

  “Of course he will not.” Eleanor broke into another large smile. “Have you fed this night?”

  “Yes, I am going to her. I will tell her that my family has arrived, and she will certainly invite you to her home. There is much going on. Someone is trying to kill both her and her grandfather.”

  Eleanor hissed, a long, slow sound of disapproval, her dark eyes flashing dangerously. “Take her and leave this place immediately, Byron. What are you thinking?”

  He burst out laughing. “You are such a contradiction, Eleanor. Savannah’s rights were stepped on, and you are up in arms, but my lifemate has no say in what she does or where she goes.”

  “If anything happens to her, it happens to you,” Eleanor pointed out.

  “Is that not the same with Gregori and Savannah?”

  She bared her teeth at him. “Gregori is not my little brother. Go to your lifemate before I box your ears for your impertinence.”

  “Save your ear-boxing for that nephew of mine.” He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “Do you have a place you are staying?”

  “We rented a villa. Josef wanted to experience the ‘flavor of life,’ as he puts it. Vlad found one we could use and still be safe. You are more than welcome to stay with us. Josef would be thrilled. He already has his paints set up on the balcony, and he looks stylish in his beret. What of you? Where are you staying?”

  “Below the earth.”

  “You must seem a respectable human, Byron. I will see to it that we find you a place of your own. Do not worry, I will find something very suitable so you will be able to take your lifemate to a safe residence.”

  “Grazie, I did not think of that. Let me know the location when you find one. I will send word to you after I have talked with Antonietta. I have seen no evidence of vampires in the area, but that does not mean they are not among us. Be careful, Eleanor.”

  “You, too. It is so good to see you.” Reluctantly, she allowed his hand to slip from hers. “Do not delay too long in taking your lifemate to our world, Byron. You belong in our homeland, you know. You always have. You were the one who imposed a sentence on yourself, leaving our people, fighting the vampires when you are a true, gifted artisan.”

  “I long to feel the gold and silver in my hands, to find the perfect gemstones in the sacred caverns.” Byron smiled at her, shadows in his eyes. “There are times I find myself fashioning jewels in my mind when I should be doing much more important things. Now that I have found Antonietta, I long to make her something beautiful.”

  “Every craftsman is highly prized by our people, Byron,” Eleanor reminded. “Especially a master at finding the gemstones.”

  “It is a world like no other. No one can understand such a thing unless they are born to the craft. Emotions bring back needs I wish I did not have.”

  “Your craft will always need you, Byron. You are a master such as our people have not seen in centuries. The prince has often commented to me that only you could design the perfect gift for Raven. He will not ask another.”

  “He is so certain I will return?”

  “All hope it is so.”

  “Few brothers were luckier than I in having such a sister. I will see you later.” Byron’s solid form dissolved into droplets, and he streamed away from the labyrinth and toward the massive palazzo.

  He circled above the towers and turrets, slipped through the sculptures of winged gargoyles, and dropped toward the second story and a window nearly always left open a few inches. Far below him he caught a glimpse of movement on a narrow, twisting path leading up the mountain, away from the palazzo and away from the city. Ordinarily, he might not have paid attention, but there was something furtive about the way Franco Scarletti’s wife, Marita, was moving along t
he path. She was deliberately keeping to the tree line, rather than walking along the open trail. He could see she didn’t want anyone from the palazzo to spot her.

  Byron circled back, floating almost lazily in the clouds. He kept the woman in his sight as she slipped in and out of the trees. He could see her head continually turning left and right, eyes shifting restlessly, her body hunched. She was carrying a small package, plain brown wrapper tied with a single string. She took the more difficult climb winding steadily away from the city and the cliffs, moving inland, moving ever upward.

  Byron caught the scent of the cat. The smell was wild and pungent and evil. At once his lazy facade disappeared entirely, and he was on the alert, streaking through the skies toward the groves of trees near the top of the mountain. Lines and lines of trees dotted the hillside. He swirled around the trunks. The odor was strong in the grove. A large cat had spent some time rubbing against the bark, stretching out in the branches. The wind shifted, whispering to Byron. Bringing with it the scent of freshly spilled blood. The coppery scent permeated the air, rose on the wind.

  Marita screamed. The sound sent birds scattering from night perches into the air so that for a moment the flutter of wings was loud. Bats wheeled and dipped, performing their acrobatics. Byron moved with them, taking their shape to blend in, hunting for the cat. Knowing it was aware of him. Knowing it was hunting, too.

  Marita’s scream was cut off abruptly, forcing Byron to turn away from the search to ensure she was not being attacked. She lay crumpled on the ground. The leaves on the trees were smeared with a black, shiny substance. It dripped from the leaves to the ground just beside Marita’s still body.

  Byron dropped to earth, taking care to be light and airy, not wanting to leave prints behind. The torn, bloody body of a man hung in the fork of the tree branch much like cached meat. The moon revealed the trunk, black with blood. Marita lay at the bottom of the tree. Byron bent over her to check to see if she were injured. She appeared to be breathing without difficulty. The package had fallen from her limp hand, so he pushed it into his coat pocket without a single qualm.