Christine Feehan 5 CARPATHIAN NOVELS

by Christine Feehan

  That man doesn’t belong in your realm. They have tried to enslave you. They’ve taken everything from you and are driving your people to extinction. See them for what they are. The vampire has put his mark on you. You were once a proud man; now you do another’s bidding. They don’t belong here.

  The jaguar shook its broad head continually, looking confused. It took a few steps toward the tree as if it might come after her again, but it stopped, trembling.

  The mage snapped a command to it and waved one hand, gesturing toward her.

  Why should this man tell you what to do? Is he your master? Does he own you? You are jaguar. You own the rain forest. Whoever walks in it should walk with your leave, not the other way around.

  The jaguar gave a coughing grunt and swung its head toward the mage, eyes blazing with fury. It crouched low. The mage froze. He began to talk quietly, chanting something while his hands gestured in rapid patterns before him.

  Look out! He’s trying to use power against you. Look at him. He’s trapping you with a spell. Attack before he finishes. She put alarm and urgency into her thoughts.

  The jaguar snarled at the mage, showing its teeth as it took several slow steps toward the mage. The mage gave way, backing up, this time holding out one hand to stop the large, menacing cat.

  The thick hedge of ferns withered and turned brown, lacy fronds rolling back as a third man stepped from the bushes. He was, by turns, beautiful and then grotesque. MaryAnn blinked several times, trying to bring his true form into focus. With a casual wave of his hands at the monkeys, they fell into an uneasy silence. He spoke a word to the jaguar, and the shapeshifter halted.

  MaryAnn touched her tongue to her suddenly dry lips. She was looking at a vampire—the epitome of evil. He looked up at her and smiled. His jagged teeth were stained with blood, and his skin seemed stretched tight against his skull. The next moment he was a gorgeous man, with a wide, engaging smile.

  “Come down and join us,” he invited softly.

  She felt the buzz in her head and knew he had embedded a compulsion in his voice. She forced a smile, then waited a few beats to gather massive amounts of energy to project into her voice and mind, so she could turn his own compulsion back on him. “I’m quite comfortable actually, so you can go ahead and leave.”

  The vampire blinked. Frowned. Shook his head as if he couldn’t remember what he was doing.

  “Yes, you want to go. Leave this place.” She poured power into her voice.

  He turned away from her, just for a moment obeying her command, swinging his body around toward the ferns.

  Her breath caught in her throat and she struck. Now! Now attack. All of you. Hurry. Take them before they destroy you.

  The jaguar leapt on the vampire’s back, teeth sinking deep into the skull. At the same time, the monkeys dove at the mage, biting and hitting, swarming over him in large numbers. Birds took to the air, wings flapping as they buzzed around the combatants, raking with their talons.

  The mage went down beneath the sheer numbers. MaryAnn wanted to turn away, the sight sickening her, as the jaguar bit down hard and blood gushed, running in streams down the vampire’s head. He roared his rage and caught the jaguar in his hands, dragging the cat away from his body with his enormous strength and wrenching at the head. The crack was audible to her, even in the midst of the shrieks and cries of monkeys and birds.

  The vampire glanced at the mage, buried under the mountain of bodies, and then he slowly turned back to face her. His head was punctured, the skull shattered under the jaguar’s strong bite, but it didn’t seem to faze the undead. The eyes were glowing with red-orange flames, the mouth opened wide in a grimace of hate.

  He stood there for a moment simply staring at her. Then he flexed his fingers, allowing the nails to grow and curve into claws. Still holding her gaze, he flew through the air and landed on the trunk of the tree beside the one she was in and began to slither up the side. He looked frightening. An abomination. Just like one of the vampires in the movies, a dark, unnatural apparition of evil bent on killing her—on destroying Manolito.

  For a moment terror gripped her. The safeguard wouldn’t hold long. Manolito hadn’t meant for it to be a protection so much as a sound barrier. Riordan wasn’t there to save her. If she was going to live, if she was going to keep Manolito’s body safe, she had to do something fast.

  Already she could feel the power surging in her body. Once again her head pounded, this time even stronger, faster. As if her body already knew the way and was only seeking her permission. The idea of letting go of herself, of her own identity, was almost more terrifying than the vampire crawling up the tree trunk.

  Her jaw ached, popping painfully. Tendons and ligaments pulled while the muscles in her body contorted, hardening into tight knots of pain she could visibly see beneath her skin. Her stomach lurched. She fought down panic. Even if she didn’t do this for herself, she had to do it for Manolito.

  Images strobed through her mind so quickly they nearly made her sick. They moved so fast she couldn’t sort them out or focus on any one, but they were of wolves walking on two legs. A collective memory. Her skin stretched tight, too tight. Her vision clouded, edged red and black. Once again her fingers curved into claws, an involuntary action she couldn’t stop. Pain exploded through her.

  She tried to breathe, tried to force herself to let go, but her mind just wouldn’t surrender. Her mind just wouldn’t let her go. What if she was trapped?

  The tree shook. The vampire shrieked, the sound skating down her spine and striking terror in her heart. He had leapt onto the edge of the platform, just outside the railing, and he was working fast at unraveling the safeguard. She had only moments to make a choice.

  MaryAnn put her hand on Manolito’s shoulder, touched his face. He was somewhere else, fighting for her. He was counting on his brother to come and protect her and protect his body, but she was all he had. She took a deep breath and let go.

  At once she felt the very essence of who she was sucked down, spiraling and getting smaller, as if she were folding in upon herself. She was fully aware, but her dominion over her own body was diminishing rapidly. Everything in her screamed to resist, but she kept her gaze fixed on Manolito, and the sight of him gave her the courage to surrender.

  As the essence that was MaryAnn retreated, the fury of the wolf sprang out, passing her as it went. She felt the inescapable power of it, the enormous strength of body and will. The sentinel. The guardian. It leapt to take her place, to fit into her body, stretching and molding muscle and bone to suit its steely frame.

  She was aware of her skin bursting, but there was no pain. She couldn’t feel the sensation of her bones and body re-forming, or her organs shifting; there was only the feeling of being protected and safe deep within.

  At that moment the vampire tore through the barrier, and with a hiss of hatred, it sprang at Manolito’s body. The wolf leapt to intercept, body changing fully in flight. They crashed together, the wolf growling, the vampire shrieking. All around them the rain forest erupted into screaming monkeys and birds, as animals reacted to the terrible sound of battle.

  16

  Manolito moved quickly through the barren shadow world, seeking the darker edges where the undead gathered in packs to wail while they waited to know their fate. He had the illusion of wearing his body, striding over the uneven ground, making his way through the tangle of huge roots, just as if he were still back in the rain forest, but he was too light, almost floating, and when he looked down, his hands and arms were transparent. He could see the rotting vegetation on the ground as he passed through on his way to the mountains of jagged boulders that marked the entrance to the meadow of mists.

  A few spirits frowned at him as he strode by them, a couple lifted a hand as if they might recognize him, but for the most part, he was ignored. It was strange to him that as he glided through the forests and hills, he could clearly see that two types of people populated the land, where before he hadn’t n
oticed.

  The meadow seemed to separate those who had little or no remorse for the things they did in their former life from the ones who struggled to understand where they had gone wrong. Few had been around to greet him.

  As he approached closer to the meadow, heat and steam rose to envelope him. Where before the mists were simply gray and dank, with no feeling of hope, now the air was even more oppressive and seemed thick with tension, as if uneasiness walked the land. In the distance he heard the sounds of mocking laughter, the whisper of voices calling his name. They waited for him, knew he approached.

  Was it really possible for an army of the undead to find a way back to the land of the living? If so, he would have to find a way to stop them. He had to let go of his fears for MaryAnn and give this world his full attention. He couldn’t be in two places at one time. He would have to trust that Riordan had arrived to protect MaryAnn from harm. He didn’t dare touch MaryAnn’s mind and accidentally pull her into the spirit world with him. He had to keep her from danger at all costs—even his life should that be necessary. He shut down all emotion and turned his attention wholly to the problem at hand.

  If the vampires were acting to invade the land of the living, they had someone powerful helping them. Razvan or Xavier, the two most powerful mages in existence. Maybe both. No one else could wield that kind of power. And if Xavier and Maxim were allies working together to bring down the Carpathian people, Xavier certainly would have told Maxim if he was trying to find a way to tap into an army of the undead. Everyone knew Xavier called on shadow warriors, men of honor long gone from the world, their spirits imprisoned by the skilled mage to do his bidding. If Xavier could yoke the shadow warriors, he might find a way to harness the legions of undead waiting in the meadow of mists.

  The way seemed longer, and more people tentatively greeted him, which surprised him. Before, the first time his spirit had arrived, most turned away with a quick gesture toward the meadow, yet now the inhabitants seemed to accept him. As he moved closer to his destination, he felt an easiness spreading and realized that when he had arrived the first time, his spirit had been dark, close to turning, so close that even within the land of the dead, he had been considered closer to vampire than to hunter. The atmosphere around the meadow hadn’t bothered him and he had instinctively sought it out. Now his spirit must appear brighter, more normal. The growing stain across his soul had receded because of MaryAnn. He owed her more even than he had known.

  He came to the meadow and halted, staring out over the expanse of sinkholes and shifting soil. It looked like a spongy marsh, and when he put his foot on it in experimentation, he sank to his ankle. His body had no real weight here, so the reaction made no sense. He hesitated, studying the barren land. Only a few scattered weeds and thistles grew in the center of the marsh. Dark reeds lined the edges, bent like old straws. Steam rose from vent holes, and minerals of all colors—dim, not bright—rimmed boiling mud ponds. The sludge quivered and popped, splattering large, dark spots of oozing mud and adding to the rising steam.

  The mist lay heavy over the meadow, a gray-green vapor that reeked of sulfur. He stood for a time studying the rising plumes of hot gases and wondering why it had been so easy to cross it on his first visit.

  “You look lost, Manolito.” A voice greeted him from behind.

  Manolito spun around and found himself face-to-face with Vlad Dubrinsky. Emotion welled up sharp and fast, a piercing shock that threatened to shake his confidence. Joy. Guilt. Shame. Amazement. Pride. Vlad Dubrinsky had been more than a prince to him. When their own father had chosen to follow his lifemate into death, Vlad had stepped in to fill the gulf left by the death of their parents. He’d guided Manolito and his brothers, mentored them, respected their counsel. Yet, in the end, they had repudiated him for trying to save his son when he knew there was no hope.

  “My prince. I did not expect to find you in such a place.”

  Vlad stepped forward and gripped his forearms in the timeless greeting of respect between warriors. “It is good to see you, old friend.”

  “I do not understand how you can be in this place.”

  Vlad’s eyebrow shot up. “You do not? This is where we wait between worlds, Manolito.”

  “Wait for what? I came here and found only condemnation. Accusations. Invitations to join the undead.”

  “You are not quite spirit, yet not quite one with your body.”

  “I was killed, yet my brothers held my spirit to earth. Gregori went down the tree of life to retrieve me, but I woke too soon. My spirit and body had not yet had time to meld together, so I walk in both lands.”

  Vlad gestured across the meadow. “You do not belong with the vampires. I can see by your spirit you have not succumbed to our darker nature.”

  “I was close. Too close.”

  “You do not want to go to their resting ground. They cannot kill you, but they have devised ways to torture and drive the spirit mad. They cannot leave this place without accepting their own guilt, yet they will not. They blame everyone around them. I suspect many would like to get their teeth into you. Come with me to the campfire of warriors. We will once again talk.”

  “My body is vulnerable in the other world, Vlad, and there are conspiracies I have to uncover in order to keep our people safe. I believe Maxim is raising an army of the dead and hopes to find a portal from this land to the living.”

  Vlad stopped moving to frown at him, then shook his head. “I should have guessed he would be up to no good. Come. It is a small way and we might be of use to you. In any case, Sarantha will want to see you. Give us news and let us give you aid.”

  “I still do not understand how you can be here, waiting for judgment. You were never close to turning. You served our people with honor.”

  “Do you believe, after all this time, that I never made mistakes, Manolito? I made many. I tried to do my best, but like any man, I had my failings. You should know that better than most. I tried to save my eldest son at a cost to many others. Was that a wise decision? Or even a fair one?”

  “You could not have known what would happen.”

  “Of course I knew. I did not want to believe it, but I had the gift of precognition. I knew, yet I set the course because I could not bear to destroy my own son. When I confessed to Sarantha, she begged me not to let him die, and fool that I was, I chose the path of destruction for all our people. I am responsible for many things that should never have come to pass. In the end, the job that should have been mine was shouldered by my son Mikhail.”

  Manolito could barely accept what he was hearing. All along he had felt guilt and shame for condemning Vlad’s decision. He loved him and respected him, and yet he had felt a traitor for plotting to overthrow him.

  “It was not in the best interest of our people.” He choked on the words, on the lump growing in his throat. The Malinov brothers had lost their beloved sister, Ivory, and so had the De La Cruz brothers. She had been their light, the reason they all continued their hope and belief in their people. With her death, the darkness had descended on all of them, triggering a chain of events that could still very well lead to the destruction of their entire species.

  “No,” Vlad agreed, his tone very even. “It was not. I am no deity. No Carpathian male is. We are all capable of great wrongs.”

  Manolito swallowed the tight ball of condemnation welling in his throat. What could he say to that? He had done things in his life, many things, he regretted. At the time they were done without emotion, but he could remember every single incident, and the worst crime had been against his own lifemate.

  He hung his head. “What you say is true. I was close to turning when I heard the voice of my lifemate. She was under the protection of Mikhail and Gregori, along with several other Carpathians. I cared nothing for the laws and I took her blood without her consent or knowledge, binding her to me.”

  Vlad nodded his head. “It was a challenge to you.”

  “To get through their ranks and c
laim what belonged to me? Yes. Am I sorry for it? I do not know the answer to that. I am sorry I did not reveal myself to her and tell her my reasons for taking her life out of her hands without consent, but I do not think doing so was wrong, only the way I did it.”

  “Our people have lived long beside humans, and our rules are different for reasons, Manolito. We were given the ability to bind our lifemate because without that our people would have died out long ago. Few will ever be able to understand that, but if we do our best to love and respect our women, always putting them first once they are in our care, we have a better chance that other species will come to understand and accept us.”

  “The world has changed a great deal in your absence, Vlad, and with it, our people. I have found it difficult to accept the new ways.”

  Vlad clapped him on his shoulder, the touch so light Manolito barely felt it. Vlad’s body was even less distinctive than his. “We all have flaws, Manolito, and we all have to work to overcome them. There is no shame in that. Come, greet Sarantha and give us all the news of our loved ones.”

  “I truly have little time. MaryAnn, my lifemate, is guarding my body and I believe she will be attacked. I have to stop Maxim before he figures out a way to leave this place with an army of the undead.”

  Vlad shook his head. “He cannot find a way out of this world.”

  “Do not be so certain. Maxim works in league with Xavier.”

  Vlad turned his head slowly, the smile fading from his face. “Xavier still lives?”

  “We believe so. And his grandson, Razvan, works with him to destroy our people. We are almost certain that Maxim’s brothers are all involved in a plot to destroy Mikhail, a plot I helped to devise.” Manolito refused to look away from Vlad as he confessed. This was the man he respected above all others, with the exception of his brothers. This was the man he’d once thought of as his father. And this was the man whose downfall he’d helped to plan. He would not lie or shy away from the guilt and shame of his deed.