Christine Feehan 5 CARPATHIAN NOVELS

by Christine Feehan

  “Ahead or behind us?” He was already scanning, as he had been since they’d entered the ice caves and was dismayed to find he couldn’t locate the vampire. And that meant it wasn’t Arturo. Arturo couldn’t hide his presence from the hunter. He sent up a silent prayer that he wouldn’t be facing a master vampire when he was already wounded.

  “I can’t tell.” She began to jog, hurrying through the tunnel.

  The hall ended abruptly, the floor dropping away to a great abyss. Vikirnoff caught her before she ran off the edge of the precipice. He held her against him. “That was close.”

  Natalya stared at the ice bridge glittering so invitingly. The structure was made of ice and stone, very narrow and had several holes in it. The bridge appeared to be the only way across. She frowned, gesturing toward the gaping holes. “I’m not going to set one foot on that thing.” She grinned up at him. “I knew you were going to come in handy.”

  “Are you expecting me to carry you?” He lifted an eyebrow.

  “Without a doubt. We go to the other side.”

  Vikirnoff reached for her, gathered her close. Natalya wished it felt impersonal, but his touch was electric, heat coursing through her body, making her acutely aware of him, aware of the definition of every muscle in his body as she leaned into his strength. It seemed natural to be in his arms and his body was familiar. Perfect. She fit exactly. She closed her eyes and savored the feeling of him being so close as they moved together through the air to the other side of the cave.

  Vikirnoff was careful, holding her even as he settled onto the ice floor, looking cautiously around before allowing her feet to touch the ground. “I feel the level of danger elevating. Hurry, Natalya. Find what you must and let us leave this place.”

  Natalya didn’t need him to prompt her. She wanted out of the cave more than he could possibly know. She hurried through the chamber, past a small alcove and turned back abruptly. She held a glow stick high so that it shone on the wall of ice. Her breath caught in her throat. “Vikirnoff,” she whispered. “Look.”

  Scales covered the body of an enormous creature. A long serpentine neck supported a wedge-shaped head. The extended tail ended in a spike and the wings were folded in close along the body. Sharp claws, made for rending and tearing, looked as if they had been digging in the ice as if trying to scrape free. One beautiful eye, a sparkling vivid emerald green stared at them hopelessly through the thick wall of ice.

  “A dragon, Vikirnoff. How would a dragon be trapped in the wall like that?” She wanted to weep for the creature. She put her hand on the ice, fingers spread wide, right over the claw as if to hold it close to her. “Who would do this to a dragon?” She couldn’t look away from that one, brilliant eye.

  “Not one, but two.” His voice was grim. He peered closer. “There is a second one, side by side with the first. You can see the outline of the leg and claw.”

  Natalya pressed against the wall, until her nose turned blue. Unconsciously, her fingernails dug at the ice, trying to get to the mythical creatures. “This isn’t right, Vikirnoff.” She wanted to weep. Her chest burned and felt too tight. “Can we get them out?”

  His hands were gentle as he pulled her away from the wall of ice. “Is this what you are after? More than one vampire are now seeking us. I feel the presence of Arturo and several others. Unfortunately, I worry more about the ones I cannot feel. I sense the presence of evil, but cannot tell where it is. We cannot take a chance of removing a wall of ice this thick without the entire mountain coming down on us and even if we could, we do not have the necessary time.”

  “I wish I had come for the dragons. This is just not right. I had no idea dragons were real.”

  “They are and they are not.” He turned her away from the ice tomb. “You are much too sensitive. Your grief is as strong as it is unexpected.” And her compassion only endeared her to him more. He tugged on her until she followed him. “Which way?”

  Natalya took the lead again. The hall opened into a gallery. Tall columns of intricately carved, Gothic-style architecture rose to the high cathedral ceiling. Crystals and ice pillars formed two rows of columns down the room, each holding several round globes of various colors.

  Natalya stopped abruptly. “This is the place. I’m supposed to come here, to this room. Don’t touch anything, Vikirnoff. There are traps everywhere. I can feel them.” She paced a distance down the wide-open room and then returned to him. Mythical creatures rose up from the floor in life-size sculptures made of clear crystal. Blood red pyramids made of stone gleamed from chiseled archways in the walls. If she stared too long at one of the many spheres, it came alive, swirling and changing color, trying to draw an unwary victim to the intense beauty.

  On the floor, beneath the ice were strange squares, pyramids and starburst patterns of stones. In the center of each shape were hieroglyphics, pictures carved deep into the rock. “This is the way out,” Natalya said. “They had to have an escape hole and the shapes have to be stepped on in a certain pattern to open the stone above the stairs.”

  “You have really never been here before?”

  Small lines appeared around her mouth and across her forehead as she tried to reach into her memories. “I may have dreamt of this place. My father told me of the cave and the ice stairs leading the way out. He warned me not to touch anything until I was certain . . .” she trailed off, her gaze suddenly meeting Vikirnoff’s. “It was my father. He set up the compulsion for me to come here. He must have.”

  “Why would he put you in such danger?” Vikirnoff watched her pace restlessly through the huge room, examining objects on display. A tall rack of weapons in a shallow alcove caught her eye, but after a moment she moved on, as if driven to find a single item.

  “I don’t know, but it must be important.” Distracted, she moved slowly up and down the room, trying to tune herself to the right direction. She didn’t have a clue what she was looking for and her dragon birthmark was burning with alarm. She pressed her hand over it, trying to stop the warning. “I think the vampires are close.”

  Vikirnoff scanned continually throughout the network of caves, looking for anything that would tell him where the vampire was. It was close. He had an instinct for the undead, and right now his warning system was blaring an alert. The sound of the water was even louder. Normally he could tone down the volume, but the continual dripping was a drumbeat, echoing throughout the network of caves. Calling to something. Awakening something. The deeper they had come into the caverns, the louder and more insistent the dripping water.

  The sound of water swelled until it was a booming pulse, a constant irritating reminder they were trapped beneath hundreds of feet of ice. Vikirnoff glanced toward the small pool forming at the base of one of the columns. The pool should have been a clear liquid, but it was discolored, a faint rusty-brown. Like mud. Or old blood. Drops of water ran down the column and fell into the puddle. With each drop the surface shook. The shock waves seemed to travel outward to encompass the chamber itself so that cavern shook slightly with each drop.

  Something glittered in the depths of the puddle, something dark and lurking just below the murky surface. Peering down into the oily mess, Natalya thought something stared back at her with red, glowing eyes. A dark shadow slithered through the rusty-brown waters. She jumped back. “That can’t be good.”

  “Get away from there,” Vikirnoff warned. “Whoever or whatever the water is calling, we want no part of.”

  Natalya moved closer to the collection of spheres. One glittering crystal globe, a full foot in diameter, rested on a tower of black obsidian. Natalya held out her hands, palms not touching the crystal, but shaping the curve of the globe. At once she felt the tremendous drawing as it leapt to life at her close proximity.

  Can you feel that? The heat? She tried to pull back, but couldn’t look away. Mists swirled inside, pulling her—drawing her—commanding her to take hold.

  Natalya, no! But Vikirnoff’s warning was too late. Even as he leapt
forward to pull her away from the crystal ball, she grasped it in both hands.

  8

  Natalya screamed, the sound of agony ripping through the long ice cavern. Her fingers welded to the crystal ball, burning until she thought her skin would peel back to the bone.

  Vikirnoff leapt to pull her back, but her voice protested in his mind. No! You cannot touch me. It is consuming me. It cannot take you, too, or I have no way back.

  Swearing aloud he dropped his hands to his sides. It took every ounce of discipline he possessed to keep from yanking her into his arms. Breathing deep, ignoring the constant sound of the water booming and echoing through the chamber, he concentrated on holding Natalya’s essence to him.

  I can’t do this. It burns, Vikirnoff. I can’t think because of the pain.

  He felt agony sweeping through her body, the wrenching at her bones and flesh, as if the ball drew her out of the world she inhabited and into the turbulence of the crystal globe itself. Setting his teeth, he took the brunt of the pain from her. Immediately his skin beaded with blood and it dripped from his brow into his eyes. You are both Carpathian and mage. You command the earth and the air and you are unusually strong. Get what you came for and get out.

  Natalya took a deep breath as the pain lessened. It was the confidence in his voice, the respect he afforded her, that allowed her to go beyond her physical body and reach for her mage training. Her body was nothing, a shell, no more than that. Her spirit was stronger than the whirling winds tearing at her flesh. She rose above the pain, above the terror and found her strength.

  Colors swirled around her, midnight blues, glittering stars, streaks of light like comets trailing across the sky. Galaxies and star systems shot by her at a dizzying speed, twined together briefly and arced apart with a shower of sparks falling like rain. She found herself staring in wonder, in awe, aware the future lay in that direction. She could find a thread, one that was hers and follow it and know what was waiting. The temptation was strong. It was dazzlingly beautiful, impressive and the idea of knowing what lay ahead was difficult to resist.

  Throughout the midnight blue sky lightning forked repeatedly, flashing like a neon sign, drawing her attention. She realized she was being pulled in that direction, her spirit traveling along one of the zigzagging threads. She pulled back. At once the draw fought with her, tugging and tugging, beguiling her with glimpses of her future. She steadfastly refused to look, instinctively fearing once pulled into the realm of the future, she might not find her way back. And what she sought could not possibly lie in that direction.

  Ropes of various colored pearls whirled around her, carried by the power of the winds. One in particular caught her attention because of the unusual color, the same cloudy hues that glittered in her eyes when the tigress in her was rising toward the surface. She watched them even as she fought the strength of the wind. Her father had often compared her eyes to sea pearls.

  Natalya reached for the strand that resembled the color of her tiger eyes. A turbulent vortex gripped her, sucked her into the whirling mass. Clutching the rope of pearls tightly, Natalya clung to the merge she held with Vikirnoff. He was her anchor and wherever her spirit traveled, he traveled with her holding guard over her physical body.

  Scenes of battles rushed past her. Dark, ugly visions of blood and death. She wept, overcome with the useless deaths as men fought for religion or power or land. Natalya fought to keep from sliding farther into the vacuum of the past. Small, black shadows tugged at the edges of her spirit in an attempt to consume her. The voices of mages whose souls had been trapped in the endless cycle of the past wailed at her in warning, in sorrow.

  She might have lost herself in the terrible pain of reliving so many deaths, seeing the mistakes made over and over throughout history, but Vikirnoff was always there, murmuring encouragement, holding her tightly without physical form.

  Soren. She’d nearly missed him in all the history swirling around her, but there he was. Her father, tall and handsome with his black hair and vivid green eyes. Her heart turned over and she reached for him. She couldn’t touch him. Natalya realized she was looking at him through a reflection. He turned and her heart nearly stopped. He was ravaged and worn with pain. Burned on one side, encased in ice on the other. He had been tortured, yet kept alive, his blood draining from his body in a long tube.

  Father! She screamed it—tried frantically to reach him, but he shook his head and looked straight at her. His eyes clouded and she could see a knife reflected there. It was obviously ancient, ceremonial, the handle studded with gems, the blade slightly curved. The knife spun, pointed at her, turned again so that she could see it from every angle. You want me to find the knife. For a moment the vision held and then the knife wavered and was gone. His gaze dropped to his hands. She saw that he was holding a huge tome. An ancient spell book. It was closed, the cover etched in dark reddish brown stains. The book is important.

  A shadowy figure, the man she recognized from her childhood nightmares loomed over Soren. Instinctively Natalya pulled back. Movement must have caught the eye of her father’s tormenter, because she saw the dark shape turn toward her and heard a slow hiss of rage. She felt the icy breath of death on her and her spirit trembled.

  Graphic images of her father being tortured overwhelmed her. Vivid details of her mother being devoured by vampires followed. Of her father finding her mother, his grief so deep he was nearly insane. Each explicit vignette was in horrifying detail, each worse than the one before until she was paralyzed with grief and horror. She felt the darker shadows tugging and pulling and drawing her to them, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t break away. Evil laughter echoed. Something clawed at her mind, raked at her.

  Natalya! Come to me now! Vikirnoff issued the command with every bit of power he possessed. Her body had begun to fade. It started on her arms, as if something was taking bites of flesh from her, replacing her skin with a thin opaque shell. She was becoming translucent, a ghostly image rather than a flesh-and-blood body.

  Fear nearly consuming him, Vikirnoff plunged his mind into hers. Ainaak enyém, I will not let you go. They cannot have you. You are ainaak sívamet jutta, forever to my heart connected. Come to me now, Natalya, your lifemate commands this.

  Guilt and fear warred with self-preservation, but the power of her lifemate was incredible, even there in the realm of past and present. In the midst of a living storm, with the fury of the wind tearing at her, Natalya turned to Vikirnoff. The reassuring warmth of his presence enveloped her, his memories, his character, the way he thought and acted. His integrity and strength of purpose. She focused on his steadfastness. For the first time she was happy that they were connected, that his strength of will could be added to her own.

  I can’t make myself leave my father.

  She couldn’t find her way back. She was too exhausted, too tired of being alone. Her father and mother and Razvan were all here, in this place. She could stay with them, be with them. So many years had gone by with her moving from country to country with no one to talk to, no one to share with. What awaited her but endless loneliness if she returned?

  It is another lure, Natalya, an attempt to cloud your thinking. You belong with me. Your father would not want you trapped here with him. You cannot save him. What was done cannot be undone. Come with me, ainaak enyém, merge and become one with me. Vikirnoff used every art he possessed. Beguiling her. Compulsion. Seduction. Commanding—all wrapped together in his softly spoken words, dragging her back up the strands of time through the sheer strength of character and will he had come to possess over so many centuries.

  She heard a roar of fury as she moved away from her father and his tormenter, from the tearing claws of the smaller dark shadows, climbing ever higher. The shadows streaked after her, reaching with hands and claws in an attempt to stop her and as she approached her own time, dazzling white orbs spun and beckoned, attempting to lure her with glimpses of the future.

  Natalya clung tighter to Vikirnoff, cra
wling deeper into his mind where she knew she would be safe. Vikirnoff would never abandon her. She closed her mind to the all too-vivid memory of her father’s tortured death and embraced life in her own time, whatever that might be. She didn’t need to stay in the past. She chose the here and now.

  Natalya found herself back in her own body, so weak she would have collapsed onto the floor of the ice cave if Vikirnoff hadn’t caught her to him. They clung to one another, Natalya shuddering violently and Vikirnoff trembling with the knowledge he’d nearly lost her.

  Tears poured down her face. “My father.” She could barely get the words out, her throat was so raw with grief. “He was tortured.”

  “I know, ainaak enyém.” His voice was tender as he stroked her hair, seeking a way to comfort her. “I am so sorry.” She hadn’t just seen her father’s torture; she had experienced it. “I would give anything to prevent you having to go through that.” He framed her face with his hands and kissed her tears away.

  Natalya looked up at his face, the smears of blood on his forehead, the tracks of blood-red tears on his face. He’d shared the same experience and he’d also shared her wild grief and outrage. She wiped his brow with gentle fingers, touched the tear tracks and leaned into him. “Thank you for being with me.”

  “Always, Natalya.” All the while he was comforting her, he was aware that the boom of the water had grown frantic, so loud the ice chamber shook. He eyed the rusty pool that was growing with each drop, not deeper, but spreading out like a giant stain. “We have to leave this place now, Natalya.” Attacking the pool without knowing what he faced in a cavern full of magick could be suicide.

  She took a breath, her fingers digging into his arm for support. “I have to find the knife. You saw it. You were in my mind. I have to get the knife.” She glanced around the ice chamber. “The alcove has a huge cache of weapons. It’s the most likely place.”