Christine Feehan 5 CARPATHIAN NOVELS

by Christine Feehan

  He held up his hand. “Don’t. Do not say another word.”

  She slipped her arm around his waist and leaned into him. “Is it really so terrible?”

  “You saw them. Every single male in the territory was here. Your father set me up.”

  Savannah was silent for a moment. “Then I guess we have to figure out a way to turn the tables on them all, don’t we?”

  He wrapped a fistful of hair around his hand and stared down into her upturned face, always so beloved to him. “Just what are you thinking?”

  A slow smile lit her eyes. “They want Santa Claus? I’m a magician aren’t I? The great Savannah Dubrinsky? And you are Gregori, commander of earth, spirit, fire and water. You call down the weather and make the earth tremble. Santa Claus is going to be a piece of cake. I do wish they had given us a little more time to prepare. But we’ll give them the best Santa Claus ever. No child will be afraid of you and you won’t be falling on your face like they all expect.”

  “Are you certain it wouldn’t be simpler just to do in your father and bury his body somewhere in the forest?” Gregori sounded hopeful.

  She went up on her toes to press kisses against his mouth. “You are so bloodthirsty.”

  He placed his hand over her rounded stomach. “There are really two little girls growing inside of you?”

  She nodded, placing her hand over his. “Yes. We really managed to shock you, didn’t we?”

  “I’m a healer, ma petite. I should know what is going on inside your body at all times. How else will I keep you healthy?”

  She brought his hand to her mouth, nibbling on his fingers. “I like that we can occasionally surprise you.”

  “Oh, you do that, Savannah,” he assured her. “You always do that.”

  18

  “Sara, I can’t find my wings,” little Emma said, running down the hall, her curls bobbing. “I looked everywhere.”

  “Trav took them,” Chrissy volunteered. “He said Emma was no angel and he was going to throw her wings away.” Her too-large eyes were very solemn, waiting to see what terrible punishment the adults would mete out over such a crime.

  Sara rolled her eyes when Emma started to wail. “I am an angel. I am! Trav is a bad, bad boy, isn’t he, Falcon?”

  Falcon scooped her up and whirled her around before her wail could turn into a serious crying jag. “I think Trav is a mischievous boy, not a bad one. What could you possibly have done to keep him from thinking you’re an angel?”

  “He always wants food and I took his sandwich and gave it to Maria’s dog. Trav doesn’t need the sandwich as much as Maria’s dog does. Trav can just go in the kitchen any time. That’s what Sara said, right Sara?”

  “That’s right, Emma,” Sara agreed. “There’s always plenty of food to go around, but you shouldn’t take Trav’s sandwich. If you want to give Maria’s dog something to eat, get it from the kitchen.”

  Falcon cleared his throat. That could be downright scary. She’s liable to give the dog a roast next time.

  “What I mean, Emma, is ask Slavica or Maria before you take anything from the kitchen. They know what dogs should eat,” Sara hastily added.

  Emma was four, and Sara was fairly certain the argument would go on forever if she didn’t find a way to change the subject. “We have to hurry and get all of you children over to the inn. Everyone is waiting to see the show.”

  “I need my wings, Falcon,” Emma declared. “I can’t be an angel without my wings.” Her lower lip began to tremble.

  “We’ll find your wings, little one,” Falcon assured her. He looked across the room and smiled at Sara.

  She had done this, created a miracle for these children. Now they were on the road to health and slowly beginning to believe they wouldn’t have to steal for food and would always have a roof over their heads. It was never easy. Sara had rescued seven gifted children who had been living in the sewers in Romania and brought them to the Carpathian Mountains. Sara and Falcon rose as early as possible, and stayed up as late as they could in order to be with the children. They were lucky enough to find several human women willing to work for them, caring for the children during the hours they had no choice but to be asleep.

  Falcon had never imagined he could love so much, but sometimes, like now, it seemed it spilled out of him and fill all the empty spaces in the room. He hugged Emma again, ignoring her squeals, and led the little group to the chair where Travis sat, trying to glare at the others. Falcon winked at the boy and held out his hand. “Let’s go. This is a celebration dinner and the quicker we get the play out of the way, the quicker you get to eat. I know Corinne and Mrs. Sanders are fantastic cooks. You won’t want to miss this meal.”

  Travis sighed and stood up, dragging the wings out from under his bottom. “At least I don’t have to be the angel.” He suddenly grinned up at Falcon. “I get to be king.”

  Falcon dropped a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Travis was the oldest and at eight, had carried a lot of responsibility over the others, picking pockets, trying to get food to feed them, always trying to protect them from the older, larger bullies on the streets and in the sewers. He was tall for his age and very thin, with a mop of dark hair he refused to cut. When Falcon had wanted to insist on having the hair cut, Sara had pointed out the boy was trying to be like him, so he left it wild and untamed. After that, Falcon spent time trying to give the boy a few pointers on keeping his long hair groomed. To night it seemed he had done a better job than usual. Even Emma didn’t have anything to say about Travis’s hair.

  “You look great tonight.”

  “Sara said everyone was coming from the church to the inn.”

  “Yes, they went to midnight ser vice and they will be coming for the dinner. Did you want to go the ser vice?” He glanced at Sara, trying hard to keep a straight face.

  Travis scowled at him. “Not me. I’m not going.”

  “I didn’t think you wanted to, but figured I’d better ask, just to keep your options open. We’d better get going or we’ll be late.”

  “Falcon,” Emma asked as they headed out the door. “Is St. Nick really going to come? Will he have a present for me?”

  There was a sudden silence, and he realized his answer was important to all of the children as he looked down at their upturned, expectant faces. Even Travis looked hopeful, although he tried to appear indifferent. They’d never had a Christmas tree, or enough food or even a roof over their heads, let alone a Christmas present.

  “I certainly believe he is coming,” Falcon said, a lump in his throat threatening to choke him. He exchanged another look with Sara. It was easy to understand why she had needed to rescue at least these children. She could only save so many, and she had done her best to provide a good home for them.

  “Come on, everybody, let’s go. We’re riding in a sleigh this evening,” Sara announced. “Make certain you have your hats and coats and gloves.”

  “Like Santa’s sleigh?” Chrissy asked. At five, she was the oldest girl and took her role very seriously. There was wonder in her voice, and Sara was instantly grateful Falcon had thought of a sleigh ride.

  “Well, we’ll have horses instead of reindeer,” Sara said, “but it should be fun. When you get in, pull the heavy blanket over you, so you stay warm.”

  They couldn’t put seven children in one sleigh, so Sara rode with the four boys so they could “take care of her” while Falcon looked after the three little girls. Travis took the reins and, looking very grown-up, gave the command to start the horses. Jase, the youngest boy, only three, gripped Sara hard and squealed with delight as they skimmed across the snow toward the inn.

  Falcon scanned the area around them. He knew there had been several attacks on the women and one directed at the prince, and his apprehension grew as they proceeded through the heaviest part of the woods. A flutter of movement overhead pulled his gaze upward and he saw several owls winging their way overhead. The horses snorted, blew streams of vapor into the air, heads tossi
ng as they eyed the wolves pacing along beside them, the leader running parallel, ice-blue eyes blazing.

  “Our escorts,” Falcon called out, laughing. Warriors everywhere, flying above them, running beside them, watching over the children and Sara. He saluted them as the sleigh raced over the snow, runners gliding easily.

  The sleigh bells tinkled with every step the horses took. The children’s cheeks were red and rosy, eyes wide with excitement, and their laughter was music to his ears. I love you, Sara. Thank you for giving me life.

  I love you right back, Falcon. Thank you for being you. No other would have taken on these children and embraced them the way you have. You are a remarkable man.

  The inn was lit up, colorful lights shining from the balcony and around the door. The horses pulled right up to the entrance and the innkeeper, Slavica, one of the women who often cared for the children, came out to greet them. Hugging each, she took them into the huge dining room where they had set up the stage. Falcon and Sara took their seats, Sara gripping his hand hard, fingers crossed that the children would have fun putting on their performance for all the adults.

  The pageant went off with only a few hitches. The play went well, although the angel kicked the king in the shins, and he jumped around the stage for a minute before remembering he had an audience. Josef sang a stirring rap song, his own Christmas version of “Jingle Bells,” which was actually quite good and had the audience clapping along until, in his enthusiasm, he nearly fell off the makeshift stage.

  Falcon wrapped his arm around Sara’s shoulders and put one hand over her stomach where their unborn child rested. “You are an incredible woman. How did you put this all together? The children are so happy and look at them up there. They’re all little performers.”

  Mikhail nodded his head. “It was a fantastic performance, Sara, I had no idea. You must have put in so much time preparing them.” He looked around him at the faces of his people, all smiling, the worn, grim faces of his warriors relaxed and happy, most of them saluting the children with a thunderous applause.

  “Didn’t they do a wonderful job?” Sara was beaming for her children. “What did you think of Josef’s rendition of a rap Christmas carol? He really worked hard on that number. And Skyler sang beautifully. I was shocked when I heard her voice for the first time. Paul and Ginny did a great dance performance, and of course no one plays the piano the way Antonietta does. I’m just so happy about all of this.”

  “And having the Dark Troubadours sing for everyone went over big,” Falcon added. “I think our guests were very happy with the show.”

  “In all honesty, Sara, I never expected anything near this production,” Mikhail admitted. “When did you have time to put it all together? I knew you were practicing with the children, and even the teens, but this really was a far larger performance than I ever imagined.”

  “It was fun, Mikhail. And the children really needed to feel a part of the event. I don’t want them to feel different. Any of them. It’s important that the adults see them and acknowledge their accomplishments.”

  “Don’t they do that?” The smile faded from his face. They didn’t do that. As important as the children were to them, as treasured and as precious, the rest of the Carpathian community saw to their health and safety, but not necessarily anything more. It hadn’t always been like that.

  “Not just their parents,” Sara said. “Carpathian males have struggled alone for so long without families they’ve forgotten what it is like to have them. Their life is war, not home, not wife and children. There is education, not just books, but teaching them the ways of the Carpathians, how to shapeshift, safeguards and even battle. Who does that? We’ve never established that. The children are so few and no one thinks to bring them together like this where they can all get to know one another, become friends and have adults accept them.”

  Mikhail remembered his own youth, the warriors stopping to give him a word of advice here and there, a gem caller taking him into the caverns to show him how it was done, others working with him on shapeshifting and even battle tactics. Sara was right.

  “I will give what you say some thought, Sara,” he said. “It makes sense. The children look happier than I have ever seen them. I had a brief visit with Joie’s mother, Mrs. Sanders, and she mentioned that you hand-sewed those costumes. I would have provided help had you asked.”

  “I had help. Corinne sews as well. And we wanted to sew by hand rather than the Carpathian way in order to show my girls and boys how it can be done. Falcon and I try to integrate the two worlds as much as possible. Colby De La Cruz told me she and Rafael do the same thing for Paul and Ginny.”

  Mikhail took Raven’s hand and brought it to his mouth, teeth scraping gently back and forth over her knuckles. “There seems to be many things I haven’t considered. We’ve learned a lot from your party, Raven. Several of our people do have to incorporate the human ways along with the Carpathian ways. As more of our warriors find mates among human women, it will happen with more frequency. It’s best if we learn how to integrate human and Carpathian families now.”

  He drew her away from the others over toward the tall Christmas tree. Several people had made ornaments to hang on it, bringing them to Slavica from all around the village. He leaned over to brush the corner of his lifemate’s mouth with a kiss. “Look around you, Raven. You did this. It is the first time in centuries I have seen so many Carpathians gathered in one place with our neighbors. The children are laughing and running around, all excited, and the men are relaxed. Well,” he amended, “alert as they should be, but so much more relaxed than I have seen them.” His gaze went to Lucian. “Look at him, Raven. That man has spent his entire life in battle, yet now, he is at peace.”

  Raven’s answering smile was gentle and filled with understanding. “Of course you needed to see this. You have to be reminded occasionally what you’re fighting for, Mikhail. All the effort you make is for them. If you never see a payoff, the workload begins to weigh far too much.”

  He felt the ache in his throat as he stared around the room. There were so many of them, his warriors, tall and straight with their signature long black hair, eyes restless, but laughing now. He looked beyond them to the other males, some in the dining hall, a few in the bar, most outside where he could feel them. On the edge. No lifemate to bring them out of their barren existence. Would this help them? Give them hope? Or would the gathering only accentuate their loneliness?

  Raven leaned against him, sharing the warmth of her body. “We’re not just a people, we’re a society. But how can we be a society if we never interact with one another?” She reached up to touch his face, so lined with worry. “The old ways are gone forever. They are, Mikhail, as sad as that is. We have to find a way to bring these people together with new traditions. We have to make our own history now. We have enemies, yes, but we have this.” She swept her hand around the room to encompass all the Carpathians as well as their human friends. “We have so much and you’ve done that. Gregori used to snarl about your friendship with your priest, Father Hummer, yet now, one of his best friends is Gary Jansen.”

  The mention of his longtime friend, a priest murdered by members of the society for his association with Mikhail, saddened him. He forced his mind away from the past.

  “Sara mentioned that we’ve fought so many battles and been so long without children, we are not giving them the proper tools they need. Do you think she’s right?” Mikhail’s black eyes rested on Raven’s face. Lifemates did not lie to one another, even if the telling was painful. He saw the answer in her face, the way her fingers tightened around his and she looked momentarily distressed.

  “You cannot think of everything, Mikhail.”

  “I have no choice, Raven. That is my duty, my responsibility. These children are all Carpathian, and those who are not yet—soon will be. You are right in saying we’re not just a people. We are a society and we need to start acting like it. Our enemies have managed to keep us focused on them,
instead of paying attention to the details of our lives that are important. Our children are everything. Rather than be annoyed by their antics, as I have been with Josef, we should all be helping them learn.”

  “Honey,” she said softly. “Josef would try the patience of a saint.”

  A small smile flirted with his mouth. “Okay, I’ll concede that point. That boy is so old in some ways and so young in others. None of us have dealt with children, not in centuries, and trying to find the tolerance and patience is going to have to become a priority, especially now that some of our women are pregnant.”

  Raven nudged Mikhail as Jacques and Shea entered the room. “She looks strained. Do you think she’s in labor?”

  “Jacques told me she’s been fighting it. I asked Syndil to choose a birthing place and to enrich the soil for Shea and the baby, hoping that would help Shea relax enough to give birth.”

  “I’m surprised she came.”

  “She was to meet an online friend here tonight. One of the guests. Eileen Fitzpatrick is her name. Have you met her?”

  “No, but Slavica mentioned her. Apparently, right before she came she had an operation for cataracts and she’s spent most of the time in her room. She only came to meet Shea and would have put it off, but she’s up there a bit in age and was worried this might be her only chance.”

  “Jacques told me Aidan investigated her. She’s supposedly legitimate, but I want to take extra precautions with Shea. At this point, I do not trust anyone near her—not even harmless old ladies with cataracts.”

  Shea and Jacques made their way slowly through the crowd toward Mikhail and Raven. Mikhail stepped forward to greet his sister-in-law with a kiss on the cheek.

  “You are certain you shouldn’t be resting?” he asked, looking at Jacques, one brow raised in inquiry.

  “I’m definitely in labor,” Shea admitted. “This baby has decided he will come tonight whether I want him to or not. It’s easier and faster if I stay on my feet as long as possible. I wanted to see the performance, but I moved a little too slow.”