Christine Feehan 5 CARPATHIAN NOVELS

by Christine Feehan

  Vlad remained silent for a long moment. There was no flicker of disappointment or disgust on his face; he simply locked gazes with Manolito and stared him in the eye. “Do you think it comes as a surprise to me that you and your brothers entertained the idea of bringing down the reign of Dubrinsky? You were always intelligent and you saw my crime. You knew what I had done. In trying to save my son, I did betray our people. You had every right to question my judgment. It was not sound.”

  “We did not have the right to plot your downfall or the destruction of every other species we were allies with.”

  “To take me down, you would have had to take them down.” Vlad nodded his head. “It makes sense, of course.” He waved his hand toward a small grove of trees. “Please come for a few minutes. A few of us guard this area to keep newcomers from wandering into the land of the fallen ones.”

  Manolito matched his steps, although, as much as he wanted to talk to Vlad and even get advice on the elusive werewolf species, he was impatient to confront Maxim and get back to MaryAnn. A sense of urgency was growing inside of him.

  He had been expecting Vlad to condemn him. Maybe it would have been easier to face what he’d done if his prince had been angry. “I am sorry,” he said quietly. Sincerely. “I had no idea the plan would ever be implemented. I had no idea the Malinovs hated you so much. In the end we talked for hours, and Zacarias and Ruslan agreed that we all would remain loyal to you and serve you with honor. We took a blood oath.”

  “You and your brothers have served our people faithfully,” Vlad said. “Even here we get news as warriors or vampires come.” He pushed through a wall of ferns. “Ah, here is Sarantha. My darling, I have brought a guest.”

  Sarantha turned, her smile lighting her face, and her eyes brightening the dull colors around them. “Manolito. It is wonderful to see you, although I have heard rumors you walk in both worlds. How are my sons and their lifemates? How is my granddaughter? I understand she is quite lovely. You must tell me everything, all the news.” She hugged him, her body light and insubstantial against his. “You must have a lifemate or your spirit would not be so bright. Tell me about her.”

  Vlad laughed. “Give him a chance to speak, my love. He is in a great hurry.”

  “Forgive me. I am just so excited to see you.” She patted a spot by the campfire. “Do you have a few moments of your time to give to me?”

  “Of course.” He leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Mikhail is a wonderful leader. You would be proud of him. His lifemate is a good match for him and is helping to lead our people back into a more cohesive society. Jacques and Shea have had a son, a boy. I was gone before the naming ceremony, so I do not know what they have called him. I heard that Savannah, your granddaughter, is expecting twins.”

  Sarantha threw herself into Vlad’s arms. “I wish we could see them.”

  “Someday,” Vlad said, enfolding her close. “We will be united with our loved ones. We are moving from this life to the next very soon.”

  She nodded and turned her face up to his to brush a small kiss along his chin. “And your lifemate, Manolito? Tell us about her.”

  “She is courageous. And beautiful. And she makes me want to be better with every rising.” Manolito frowned, wanting information without giving too much away. “Vlad, tell me what you know of the guardians. The werewolves.”

  Vlad sank cross-legged to the ground. “Little is known of their society, although legends abound. I think they started most of the myths to keep people frightened and away from them, but then that backfired and they were hunted by humans. They live in human form most of the time. They exist on all continents, or did in ancient times. Few can ever tell them from humans.”

  “How can they stay secret even from us?”

  “They do not have brain function all that different from a human; they simply use more of the brain, as we do. Most of the time, the wolf stays silent within them, so they appear completely human.”

  “What would happen to a wolf if he became Carpathian?”

  “Cross the species?” Vlad glanced at Sarantha. “I do not know. I have never heard of such a thing.”

  “Can it even be done?” Sarantha asked.

  “I have no idea,” Manolito said. “But humans have been successfully brought into Carpathian society. As werewolves are psychic, it is theoretically possible.”

  Vlad let his breath out. “I am glad it is not a decision I have to make. A wolf and a Carpathian. The combination might be lethal.”

  “Or exciting,” Sarantha interjected. “Two species of equal power.”

  “What would it do to the person? To their body and mind? What would they become?”

  Vlad opened his mouth and closed it abruptly. “I see your dilemma.” And he did. Much more than Manolito might have wanted him to see. “I cannot help you. As far as I know, it has never been done. Both bloodlines are of equal power. I do not know which would emerge victorious, if either.”

  “And what do you know of Xavier?”

  Vlad sighed and reached for Sarantha’s hand. “In truth, it is long since I had to make decisions for my people. I am grateful that I can simply exist without my choices having impact on anyone other than my lifemate. Even speaking of Xavier is difficult. He was a good friend. One I believed in. One I loved as a brother. He betrayed us as no other could have done.”

  “Why?”

  “Greed. Jealously. He wanted to be immortal. I tried to tell him there was no real immortality—after all, we too can be killed—but he came to believe he was superior and should have the kind of longevity we have. Unfortunately, all of our safeguards were founded on mage spells—spells he provided. Over the years we added to them, but the weave of energy is the same, and that made us—and still makes us—vulnerable to him.”

  “When you were such good friends…”

  “He wanted me to give him a Carpathian woman. I tried to explain about lifemates, but he refused to see reason. We had many arguments, and he became convinced that I was deliberately keeping him from being immortal because I feared his power. Eventually we began to separate our two societies, although he maintained the schools for our fledglings to learn. Rhiannon was one of his best students and he decided to keep her for himself. He had her lifemate murdered and he took her. He must have planned it for a long while, because she was Dragonseeker and few could have held her against her will, let alone got her pregnant. Yes. We have heard that he had children by her.” His fingers tightened around Sarantha’s. “There was nothing I could do to stop him, and now he is trying to destroy our people.”

  “He was evil then and he is now,” Manolito said. “He has banded with the Malinovs and is implementing the plan we devised. Now that we know what he is doing, Zacarias will take word to Mikhail and we will send out emissaries to each of our allies and try to stop him before he goes any further. But first, I have to stop Maxim.”

  “Oh dear,” Sarantha looked at her lifemate. “Maxim is such a troublemaker. He cannot accept his mistakes. He refuses all responsibility, and until he atones in some way, until he learns, he cannot move on.”

  Manolito pushed himself to his feet. “I cannot stay longer. I fear for MaryAnn’s safety. It was an honor to see you both.”

  “I will come with you and see what I can do to help,” Vlad volunteered.

  Manolito shook his head. “You know you cannot. This is my problem to solve. I am trapped in two worlds and cannot live in both. This is my burden alone, sir, but I thank you for wanting to shoulder it with me.” He gripped his prince’s forearms in the time-honored manner and then leaned down to kiss Sarantha. “I will give your love to your family.”

  “Be well, Manolito,” Sarantha said.

  “Live large,” Vlad added.

  Manolito strode back through the trees, looking back once for a glimpse of the leader of his people. Sarantha and Vlad had their arms around each other, their bodies giving off a faint glow of light that seemed to grow stronger, more blinding in the midst
of the gray, dank world. The sight of them, so in love, so bound to each other, made him long for the same thing with MaryAnn. He sighed and resolutely turned back to face the path to the meadow. A slight wind blew through the leaves in the small grove of trees but failed to reach him, even when he lifted his face to try to feel the breeze.

  How could he uncover Maxim’s plan? The vampire would never trust him, never believe he had come over to his side. What was left? Vlad had said that the undead had devised ways to torture and drive one mad. How did you drive a spirit mad? Or for that matter, torture one? He frowned as he mulled it over. A war of the wits then. There could be no other answer. For good or evil, he had to risk everything for his people—and for MaryAnn. If he was wrong…

  He shrugged and proceeded to the belching, steaming meadow where the veil of mist hung low and the bubbling pools of mud spit out dark, ugly stains. Maxim and his army of undead waited on the other side. He could see shadows moving in the dull gray of the mist, eyes glowing red and voices rising on the steam.

  He streaked across the space, avoiding the plumes of steam and sudden hissing geysers as they spouted into the air, throwing more of the dark mud in all directions. He burst through the veil of mist, straight into the center of the vampire circle.

  Maxim hissed his surprise and stopped dead, arms still raised in the air. The chanting faltered, and the others forming the circle around Maxim stepped back, covering their faces.

  Maxim forced a smile, showing the pegs of his stained teeth. “I see you have returned to us, old friend. Join us in our little ceremony.”

  “I certainly did not mean to interrupt you, Maxim. By all means, you and your friends continue with what you were doing.”

  “You do not mind, then?” Maxim asked, with a faint, deadly smirk.

  “No, of course not.” Manolito folded his arms across his chest.

  Maxim raised his arms and began chanting once again. The vampires circling him moved their feet in a hypnotic pattern and began to lift their voices in a mesmerizing incantation.

  Manolito deliberately walked around Maxim, studying him from every angle, watching the flow of his hands, committing each movement to memory.

  Maxim sighed and dropped his arms. “What is it?”

  “Carry on, Maxim. I am just contemplating where I have seen this particular spell used. I believe it is one of Xavier’s earlier works, when he first was attempting to bind the shadow warriors to him. We studied him, remember? He was a brilliant man.”

  “He is a brilliant man.”

  “Not so much anymore,” Manolito said in disagreement. The other undead had once again stopped their chanting and were watching. “He has grown senile. He lives off the blood of our people, but he was never meant for longevity and his mind is going.” He stepped closer to Maxim and lowered his voice so only the master vampire could hear. “He no longer can produce new spells. He has to have others, lesser mages, do it for him.”

  “You lie!” Maxim hissed. “I know you lie.”

  “You know I do not,” Manolito replied calmly, once more circling Maxim. “You have always been of superior intelligence. I do not flatter you when I remind you of that. You could reason things out. Xavier lacks the ability to think of anything new. He relies heavily on the things he knew before, and I doubt he remembers much of that.” He stopped again on the vampire’s other side and whispered in that ear. “Why do you think he seeks the book?” Xavier had compiled his spells into one book, now guarded by the prince of the Carpathians.

  Maxim growled and swung his head back and forth, his eyes glowing with red-hot flames. “He is a powerful man.”

  Manolito nodded and once more began walking in a circle, moving his feet in a dance pattern as he went, watching the master of the undead try to follow the intricate, hypnotic steps. “Very powerful. In spite of the fact that he no longer makes up his own spells, he is still a powerful mage. But he cannot do what he promises you and your brothers. He cannot open the portal to allow your army of the undead to come forth. That’s why he has given you the ancient spell of the shadow warriors.”

  Maxim continued to turn in a circle with him, following his every movement with suspicion. When Manolito stopped and leaned in close, he automatically did the same.

  “He knows Vikirnoff ’s lifemate can send the warriors back to their own realm. He was using her spells, and now he no longer has control of her. He’s left with nothing, but dares not let Ruslan and your brothers know the truth. Of what use would he be then to them?” Before Maxim could answer, Manolito once more took off circling.

  The vampire gripped his own head in agitation and screamed, the sound rubbing across nerves like sandpaper. “It does not matter, Manolito. Xavier did not figure out what to do; Ruslan did, and he is always right. Always. Zacarias was a fool to follow Vlad instead of Ruslan. We had a code, a blood oath, and you broke it.”

  “Our blood oath was to one another and to the prince, Maxim. The De La Cruz family was always loyal to the Malinovs.”

  “We gave you the opportunity to join us. We talked all night of it. You insisted on following the prince and his murdering son.” Maxim spat out the last words, his face contorted with hatred and rage. He stepped up toe-to-toe, staring Manolito in the eyes, so that the red flames burning in his sunken eye sockets were plainly visible. “Betrayer,” he accused. “You deserve to die.”

  Manolito didn’t flinch away from the foul stench of Maxim’s breath or the savage hatred on his face. “I did die. How else would I be here?”

  “You went back, and that means it is possible. Xavier will find a way to return me to the others or he will die a long, painful death. He knows not to betray us. Our memories are long, and you will suffer for your betrayal.”

  “Will I?”

  Maxim’s fury erupted so strong there was no containing it. He threw back his head and howled, reaching to seize Manolito’s shoulders with his claws, the talons piercing deep and tearing through the flesh so that blood ran and the other vampires erupted into a frenzy, racing forward in an attempt to lick at the dark red streams.

  For one moment, pain burst through him, bright and hot, twisting his gut and beating at his brain, but Manolito quelled his body’s reaction and stayed perfectly still as the vampires swarmed around him. He shoved down his revulsion and smiled at Maxim, his gaze calm. “Do you think to trick me so easily? It is an illusion. Nothing more. You cannot kill what is already dead. I have no body in this place. These fools want to believe, but even they can only taste the dirt on the ground as they root around.”

  Contempt on his face, he touched one with his foot as the undead clawed at the barren ground. The noise was hideous as they all tried in vain to get to fresh blood. Growls and hisses, animals gone mad. “This is what you have been reduced to, Maxim? You were once a great man, and now you wallow like swine in a pen.”

  Screaming with rage, Maxim struck him repeatedly in the face, shredding flesh with his long yellow nails. It was difficult to stand still under the attack, to keep his mind from believing what was happening was real. Flesh appeared to fly in all directions. Blood splattered everywhere.

  Manolito kept his arms loosely at his sides and forced the smile to remain, even when the other vampires went mad, trying to shove bits of his flesh into their mouths, going so far as to sink teeth into his shoulders and chest. It was one of the most difficult things he had ever done in his life, standing there while the undead gathered around him in a feeding frenzy, tearing the flesh from his bones and trying to eat him alive.

  He kept his mind fixed on MaryAnn. He thought of her smile, her hair, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed. Ah, the sound of her laughter was warm and bright in his mind, drowning out the sound of the vampires tearing at him. He fixed his mind on every detail of her body and the way she wore her so-fashionable clothes. Her red heels and her soft boots. Even here, in this land that made no sense, she came to his rescue, keeping her courageous image between him and madness.

 
; “Enough!” Maxim shouted and waved the vampires away from Manolito. The undead obeyed reluctantly, some crawling along the ground trying to scoop up flesh and blood and getting only handfuls of the alkaline dirt. Some caught Maxim’s legs and fawned, begging for more, their faces smeared with mud. He kicked them away from him impatiently and glared at Manolito. “Get the sneer off your face.”

  “I am not sneering, Maxim. I feel only pity for the creature who used to be my friend and was once a great man. Now you are content to serve these worthless ones. You have become worm fodder by your own hand. And you have lost the one thing that mattered—your keen intelligence. How could a man with a brain as sharp as yours ever believe a word Xavier said? It makes no sense that you or Ruslan—or any of your brothers for that matter—would waste your time on him.”

  Manolito was careful to keep the flattery to a minimum as he brought the vampire’s focus back to the mage. Maxim was cunning, and he would notice if Manolito went overboard. He kept his tone very cool and slightly filled with contempt, which he knew would grate on Maxim.

  The master vampire sucked in his breath, the air whistling between the jagged pegs of his teeth. Manolito could see him struggling for control, for dignity. He stepped away, placing his hands behind his back and schooling his face into even lines.

  “You are mistaken about Xavier, Manolito. He will bring my army through the portal and no one will be able to defeat us. You cannot fight the dead.” He laughed without mirth as if he were very amusing.

  Around them the other vampires began to pull themselves together, following Maxim’s example, opening their mouths wide to let out sounds that were a terrible parody of laughter. The din was grating, a wild screeching that echoed through Manolito’s head and set his teeth clenching. He forced a flash of his teeth, keeping his gaze fixed on Maxim’s, trying to read whatever was behind that evil mask.