Christine Feehan 5 CARPATHIAN NOVELS

by Christine Feehan

  He was angry with himself, not her. He should have recognized the wolf traits in her, been more prepared for the consequences of taking her blood. He had been consumed with her, so much so that when he woke he had needed to feel her body wrapped around his even more than he needed blood for sustenance. In all the centuries of his existence, that had never happened. She was in every thought he had, taking him over until he knew he couldn’t survive without her. Worse, when her mind was withdrawn from his, the other world invaded and he was left in the gray shadows, wandering, trying to figure out a way to reconnect wholly his spirit and body.

  He couldn’t force her to accept him. He couldn’t get into her mind and stay merged; nor could he persuade her of the consequences of keeping that mind merge from him. And as she had withdrawn from him, he could no longer sustain enough power to keep his spirit wholly in the land of the living. Around him, the colors faded until everything was dim and grayish, and when he looked at his hands, he could see through them. His brain felt as if it was bursting through his skull, his temples pounding with pain. Ordinarily he could shut off pain, but it was impossible. His tongue felt funny, thick and coated with copper.

  MaryAnn struggled in his grip, opening her mouth with the intention of blasting him, so hurt she wanted to crawl in a hole and pull the earth over the top of her, so angry she thought she might take another swipe at his face with her too-sharp fingernails, but something about him caught her attention. She pushed down her own hurt feelings and forced her mind back to reason.

  “Manolito, is your head hurting?”

  He nodded, pressing against his temples hard. “I shouldn’t experience pain like this. I do not understand.” Unless it is the wolf. Unless it is this woman, trying to pretend to be my lifemate when she is really a puppet of the vampire, bent on my destruction.

  She caught that and flinched, nearly backing out of his mind, afraid he would hurt her more with his insults, but then she caught a sound. A buzzing. Like a million insects, only much worse than what she was getting in her brain. Her breath caught in her throat. Instinct told her to pull back fast, but she forced calm. She was psychic. She had the ability to read minds. She’d been doing it for years; she just hadn’t been aware she was doing it. There was nothing to be afraid of. She just had to figure out how she did it.

  She let her breath out and reached for him, filling her thoughts with him, wanting him to feel better, wanting to take away his pain and see what—or who—was harming him. The buzzing grew stronger, louder, pushing at her brain, making her feel so sick she ran to the railing and leaned over it, but she held on, determined to push further. Voices. Soft. Insistent. Crawling up and down his mind. Slicing at his brain.

  “Manolito.” She caught his hand and held on tight. “We’re under attack. You’re under attack. I can hear them. They’re trying to get you to kill me.”

  He didn’t hesitate, his hand enveloping hers. “The undead. Maxim seeks to trap me from the other side.” It all made sense now, and in a way it was a relief to know he wasn’t crazy. He hadn’t turned on his lifemate. It hadn’t occurred to him that he would be vulnerable in the shadow land, but it should have. His body was alive, and part of his spirit had returned to that of the living, which meant the dead would be aware he didn’t belong with them.

  “How can he do that when he’s dead?”

  “Maxim’s spirit still remains in the land of ghosts, and that is where my spirit is. He must be attacking me from within.” He pulled her close to him. “I do not want your last memories of your lifemate to be those of rejection and anger. I cannot believe the way Maxim could reach an ancient as battle-savvy as I am supposed to be. I fell under his influence like an inexperienced fledgling.” He brought her knuckles to his mouth. “Forgive me, MaryAnn. I would not have hurt you for the world. It is my privilege to protect you, yet at the first test, I have failed you.”

  “No you haven’t,” she said. “Just tell me how we’re going to make him stop.” Because whatever Maxim was doing, Manolito was suffering; she could see it in his eyes, feel it in his mind. “Tell me what to do.”

  “I have to enter wholly into that world, and my body will be vulnerable to attack. If they kill you, or they destroy my body, I am lost. They must have a plan.”

  She stuck her chin out. “I can go there with you. I’m pretty certain I know how.”

  He shook his head. “No. It is much too dangerous. I can travel in the shadow world, because my spirit was drawn there, but you are alive and you do not belong. They were aware of you the instant you entered. I think they can kill you there.”

  “I think he’s killing you in that world right now.”

  “He will not kill me.” He caught her chin in his hand. “Listen to me, MaryAnn. This is important. I was upset when I discovered that I was changing, becoming wolf, just as you are changing and becoming Carpathian, but not for the reasons you think. Not for the reasons I gave you. Whatever influence Maxim has on me, at this moment my thinking is clear. Other psychic women have successfully converted to Carpathian. It was a painful process, but they are healthy and happy and living lives they seem to embrace. I expected no less for you.”

  He bent down to brush a kiss on top of her head. “Discovering the wolf changes the equation. There is no precedent. We have no idea what could happen to you if I convert you. We have no idea the effect the wolf would have on me. I can tell I am more aggressive and dominant, and you indicated you already had a problem with me in that area. I do not want to take a chance with your life. Until we know more, we have to be careful. I could become dangerous. You could be killed. We just do not know.”

  MaryAnn leaned into him, needing to touch him, beginning to feel panic. There was something wrong with the way his eyes were focusing. “Stay with me,” she whispered, clinging to his hand. “Stay with me, Manolito.”

  “I have to go back there. Whatever Maxim is doing is there in the meadow of mists and ghosts, sivamet. I cannot be in two places at one time and fight him.”

  “Then I’m going with you.”

  “You cannot. My body will still be here unprotected. I am sending a message to my brother to come at once to get you to safety. He will know what to do with my body.” He cupped her face in his hands, thumbs sliding over her silky skin. “You are the most important person in my world, MaryAnn. I cannot risk you. Please do as I ask and wait here where you are protected for Riordan to come. I cannot worry about you and fight Maxim at the same time.”

  She stared up at his black, glittering eyes, realizing there was nothing she could do to stop him. He believed he had to protect her, and he would. He would die for her. He would kill her for. He would do anything for her. No matter the consequences to him, he would go where the vampire had all the advantages.

  His smile was gentle, the pad of his thumb sliding over her lower lip. “What makes you think he has the advantage, csitri?”

  “He’s meaner than you, and much more cunning. And he’s had time to plan.”

  His smile widened, until he looked wolfish. “I do not think you have to worry about who is meaner or more cunning. He has had time to plan, but he is counting on me trying to stay in this world. He will send others here. They will come, so do not leave until Riordan is here to escort you.”

  He was already fading, his spirit slipping back, away from her, away from the living world. MaryAnn tried to hold on to him, but there was no use. He was gone, and only his body remained, a shell, faded and drawn, no longer vital. There was enough spirit left for him to sink down, leaning his back against the railing, and then that, too, was gone and she heard his call.

  Riordan. I have great need of you. MaryAnn is unprotected, and the vampire will send everyone he has to slay her. You must get to her.

  The answering in his head sounded slurred and demonic. She could barely make out that he was speaking another language, one she didn’t understand. Abruptly Manolito pulled away, confused. The voice was so distorted, he couldn’t tell whether he
was speaking with his brother or not.

  MaryAnn took a deep breath and let it out. She could do this. She had successfully merged with Manolito when she had wanted to; she could do the same with Riordan. All she had to do was follow the original path Manolito had used.

  Riordan. Her first attempt was hesitant, but she felt him stir and latch on to the path immediately.

  MaryAnn. What is wrong with Manolito? Juliette and I are transporting Solange and Jasmine to the ranch. Neither is safe here. I can tell he is in trouble, but I cannot reach him.

  She swallowed the surge of fear. How long will it take you to get back here? Her stomach did a hard roll, but she dug her fingernails into the railing and waited.

  We are starting back now. If we take Jasmine and Solange home to the others, we cannot aid you in time. We’re turning back, so hold on. Can you reach Manolito? Can you get to him and hold him to this world?

  MaryAnn glanced at Manolito’s body. If she went to find him in the shadow land, his body would be completely vulnerable. I can go to him when you get here, and I know I can bring him back. She put much more confidence in her voice than she actually felt. Accepting she was psychic and could talk telepathically wasn’t easy. Her brain kept telling her she was crazy. Hurry, Riordan. I don’t think we have much time.

  The monkeys in the surrounding trees screamed a warning. Birds erupted into the sky, wings flapping hard, stirring the air so that she scented intruders. Jaguar. A human she believed to be mage. He had the taint she associated with vampire on him. And one other. Her heart thudded hard as her nose wrinkled. The wind carried the scent of decay. Vampire? She was not equipped to deal with a vampire.

  MaryAnn rushed to the railing and peered down. Oh yeah. She was in deep, deep trouble. She could see the jaguar emerging from the forest of ferns along the embankment. His fur was dark with water, and as she looked down, he lifted his head and looked right at her. Their eyes met. He bared his teeth.

  She ran her hand down her thigh. At least Manolito had provided her with a pair of designer jeans, one of her favorite. She could die looking good. She took a deep breath, considering her options. If she ran, they might follow her, but she doubted all three would, and that would leave Manolito’s body vulnerable. They would certainly destroy it and with it—him.

  You must leave, MaryAnn. The mage will unravel the safeguards, and you cannot face jaguar, mage and vampire. Go now.

  Manolito’s voice was far away and thin, his spirit in another realm.

  I’m not leaving your body here for them. Riordan’s coming.

  You cannot wait too long. You cannot face a vampire alone.

  She certainly didn’t want to face one, alone or with an army.

  I don’t think you have to worry too much about me going anywhere near them.

  He seemed so far away that she had to fight down panic.

  How had he become so important to her so fast? She’d thought it was physical attraction and nothing else. He was so incredibly beautiful. No man had ever looked at her the way he had. She was intelligent enough to realize that the danger and macho inherent in his personality were also a huge moth-to-flame draw for women, but she was too logical to succumb to a man for that. Maybe all along she’d wanted the attraction to be those things because it kept her safe. Loving Manolito De La Cruz would be too much like jumping off a cliff.

  MaryAnn exhaled. She had already taken the plunge, somewhere along the way without even realizing it. It didn’t matter that he was Carpathian and she was—whatever she was. Manolito was her other half, and she was going to keep him alive. She was going to do whatever it took to bring him out of that other world, back to the land of the living, back to her.

  She stood up in plain sight of the jaguar, wanting him to feel the challenge. Wanting him to see he had a fight on his hands—or claws. Because they weren’t getting Manolito’s body. She would find a way to use whatever she was, whatever power she really had, to keep him safe until Riordan got there to take over. And then she was marching into the land of mists and ghosts—or whatever he called it—and she was dragging him out.

  Below, the jaguar snarled in answer, revealing viciously long teeth. It gave up any pretense of hiding its intent and sprang onto the trunk of a large tree. Using claws, it dragged itself to the lowest limb and began to run along the canopy highway built of thick overlapping branches. The cat raced toward her, eyes glowing with venom.

  MaryAnn watched the jaguar come, her pulse racing in time to the beat of its paws as it hit each tree, breaking small twigs as it came closer and closer. Her chest felt tight. Too tight. Her head hurt as if her brain had swollen and no longer fit inside her skull. Her teeth and jaw ached. Muscles contracted. Skin rippled as if something lived beneath it. The ends of her fingers began to split apart as they curved down. She felt herself being drawn into a tight, tiny compartment, into a small space with no way out.

  Panic turned the edges of her vision black. She could feel herself, the very essence of who she was, being drawn into a vortex, whirling, shrinking, until she grew smaller and smaller.

  MaryAnn flung out her hands, catching the railing to anchor herself, and with a small, terrified cry, she pulled back. Nails dug into the wooden rail, leaving behind deep grooves, while she breathed away the feeling of being swallowed alive. The jaguar leapt straight at her, claws extended, and she jumped back, tripped over Manolito’s legs and landed hard on her bottom.

  The jaguar slammed into an invisible wall and fell straight down, clawing desperately for a purchase on the trunk or branches as it crashed through, breaking boughs along the way.

  MaryAnn stood up slowly and cautiously peered down. The jaguar hit a larger branch and managed to hang on where it lay, panting, sides heaving, trying to catch its breath. Beneath the cat, a man emerged from the heavier foliage and lifted his hands in the air. A mage. And one who seemed to know what he was doing. Unlike the other mage, who had been tentative as he worked, this man barely slowed down as he worked to unravel Manolito’s safeguards. The invisible threads woven so tightly together began to unravel so fast she could almost feel them falling.

  She pressed her lips together hard and forced her mind away from panic. The moment the mage took down the safeguards, the jaguar would attack. She might manage to kill the shapeshifter, but she knew nothing at all about fighting vampires, even fledglings. And the mage was dangerous as well. What had she done last time to kill the mage? She couldn’t remember. She hadn’t killed him on purpose. She’d wanted him to go away.

  The monkeys shrieked at the jaguar and rained twigs down on him. The jaguar snarled and leapt at one of the smaller ones in the lower branches. At once the entire monkey population went wild. The sound was deafening. MaryAnn realized the mage had already unraveled the sound barrier Manolito had erected.

  Riordan. Get here soon. She tried to send the impression of the mage, vampire and jaguar to him.

  She felt his sudden tension. Can you get out of there?

  I can’t leave Manolito’s body unprotected. I don’t think I have very much time before the mage breaks through. He seems to know what he’s doing.

  Manolito will have woven in a few surprises, but he most likely was looking for privacy, not expecting an all-out attack against the two of you.

  “Just hurry.” She whispered the last aloud.

  There had to be a way to distract the mage. She concentrated on him, focusing wholly on his face, his expression, the way his lips moved as he mouthed the reversal of the safeguards Manolito had set. How could she stop him? Slow him down? What she needed was a way to get the earth beneath his feet to open, a big wide crack that would follow his every step if he tried to escape it.

  The tree shook. The ground below undulated, throwing the mage off his feet. He glared at her as he crab-walked backward hastily, trying to avoid the crack widening in the earth. Her breath caught in her lungs and she went still. Was she doing that? Was it possible? Could she really have broken a branch from above the fi
rst mage and dropped it on him? The thought both sickened her and gave her hope. But how was she doing it? What else had she done? What else was she capable of doing?

  For the first time she felt a twinge of hope. The agitated movements of the monkeys caught her attention. They were throwing leaves and twigs not only at the jaguar, but at the mage, as if they were firmly aligned with her. She let her breath out slowly. Had the animals been following her? Had they obeyed her when she told them to go? And the jaguars, even the shifters, had stopped when she’d given the command. She hadn’t held them for very long, but for one instant they had obeyed her as well.

  She rubbed her pounding head. It was about to split open. Her chest felt too tight, as if everything inside her was expanding and she was contracting, getting smaller and smaller. Her body felt as if it didn’t fit, and hard knots appeared beneath her skin on every muscle. It was distracting and just plain freaky. For a moment she was shaken, wanting to run, but then she glanced at Manolito, so still, so alive looking, his eyes vacant when his body seemed so strong and virile. He wasn’t running from trying to protect her, and she wasn’t about to leave him behind.

  Her spine stiffened, and she looked up at the animals in the canopy. So many of them. The sheer numbers were reassuring. We really don’t like that bad man, do we? He’s trying to hurt me. Throw things at him. Big things. Drive him away. Don’t let him put his arms in the air like that.

  The monkeys went insane, jumping up and down on and shaking the branches of the trees, running back and forth, showing teeth and beating on their chests as their agitation built. She was beginning to get a feel for the flow of energy. It was small at first—she could only guess at what she was doing—but as the animals responded and the energy swelled around her, she became very aware of it. She took a deep breath and tapped into the seething cauldron of power, directing it this time at the snarling jaguar.