Authors: Christine Feehan
Dark Challenge (43 page)
Within the display of white light, colors suddenly began to shimmer, blues and oranges and reds, tongues of flames like heat-seeking missiles. The colors raced back toward the oncoming vampire, swarming, gathering in number and strength. They raced through the sky, turning this way and that, obviously following an invisible trail. Again Julian was rewarded with a scream of rage. At once the ground shook, and trees were blackened as the monster retaliated.
Far away, both Carpathians heard the faint, feminine cry of pain. Barack swore.
He attacks her
. He used the mental path familiar to his family, hoping Julian was aware of it.
He is trying to draw her out. Can he do such a thing?
Barack considered that. He had been in Syndil’s mind. She was of the earth, as they all were, yet her gift was an affinity the rest of them could never experience. She would feel the earth crying out, the death of the living plants as they withered in pain.
I am afraid it will be so. She will feel the earth’s pain as we cannot. And she can do no other than attempt to heal it.
Go then, stop her. I have instructed Desari to hold her there until you get there, and she has bound Syndil with her voice, but she says the pain in Syndil is torture to see. Go quickly, Barack, and know that I will destroy this monster while you keep her safe. Whatever promises you must make to her will be kept
.
Barack believed him. There was something of Darius in Julian Savage. A quiet confidence that clung to him like a second skin. A second attack on the foliage below and Syndil’s soft cry spurred him back toward the mountain.
Julian shut off his connection to Desari and the others.
This vampire was his ancient enemy, very dangerous and highly skilled. The vampire had found a young boy so many centuries ago, lured him into a world of knowledge and excitement, then betrayed him and marked him with the darkness of the undead. He had tormented Julian, whispered taunts and threats, forced him to endure the screams of his victims, to feel their terror before he killed them. And he had shamed Julian. Taunted him with the knowledge that he would forever be alone, tainted. Shadowed. The monster was finally before him, and they would face one another across the battlefield alone, as it was always meant to be.
Julian dissolved into a fine mist and spread out across the sky, moving in a semicircle toward the vampire’s position. Three bolts of lightning slammed to the west of him, and he realized Barack was deliberately exposing his presence as he raced toward the mountain, hoping to give Julian more time to get in a position to attack. Julian immediately took advantage of the vampire’s momentary distraction, streaking through the sky even as he built up fog on the forest floor so that it drifted in wide bands and began to rise in banks of mist.
The vampire was directing his attacks from a cliff above the forest floor. Julian could see him now and vaguely recognized the remnants of the once handsome Carpathian male. Now the face was sunken and gray, wisps of hair clinging to the scalp in tufts, the body old and gnarled. The vampire had not had time to feed.
As Julian materialized behind him, the vampire whirled around with a low cry. Julian smiled politely. “It has been long, Bernado. Much too long. I was but a boy, and you were telling me you were off to the libraries of Paris, in search of historical documents that might give our people a clue as to what really happened between Gabriel and Lucian. Did you ever find such a
thing?” His voice was a soft blend of purity and confidence.
Bernado, monster of his dreams, his life. This cunning, crafty ancient who liked to consider himself a great scholar.
Bernado blinked, taken aback by the casual conversation. It was totally unexpected. He had not had a conversation with anyone in over two hundred years. “That is so. I was looking. I remember now.” His voice was gravelly but thoughtful, as if he had to reach back to find the moment in time. “I found two entries that might have alluded to them. One was in a personal journal, that of a count. He wrote that he saw two demons fighting near the cemetery right there in Paris. That the fight went on for some time, a vicious battle but almost choreographed, as if each combatant knew what the other would do before he had done so. He claimed the two continually changed from one being into another. He wrote that both fighters appeared to have suffered terrible wounds, yet there was no trace of either fighter and no blood on the ground when he was able to get close enough to examine the cemetery. He told no one of his sighting for fear of being ridiculed.”
“It does seem possible, then, that you uncovered something our people have searched centuries for.” There was praise in Julian’s soft voice. “And the other entry? Where did you find that?” It had been the excitement and lure of this mystery that had first ensnared Julian’s interest in Bernado’s studies all those years ago.
“It was a mere line or two in a record kept by a supervisor of the cemetery workers. A personal record, no more. It alluded to one of his workers, who he suspected had drunk far too much wine one night. It was the same date as that of the count’s memory. The supervisor wrote that one of his men told of a fight among wolves and
demons that ended in mortal wounds. He would no longer go into the cemetery and work, as he was certain the demons had risen from the graves.”
Julian nodded. “You were once a man I thought had greatness in you. I looked up to you. To your learnedness. But you betrayed that trust.”
The vampire blinked at him, uncertain about his mild tone. “You wanted knowledge. I gave it to you.”
Julian could feel the power building in him, around him, in the very air itself. Century after century, each dark, barren rising, the aching need for his twin, the lost fledgling years. It was rising in him, the bleakness, the emptiness, the dark stain of humiliation and isolation. All he’d had left was his honor. His Prince and the healer had known and had recognized his need to be of value to his people, but this monster before him had altered the course of his life for all time.
“You gave me a living death, Bernado.” Julian moved then, with blurring speed, whipping toward the ancient monster as the creature suddenly surged forward. His fist was outstretched and plunged deep into the chest cavity, using the vampire’s forward motion to aid his attack. “I studied your methods, every kill.” He whispered the words, his golden eyes gleaming savagely. “You taught me the importance of knowledge, of knowing your enemy, recognizing him, and I learned well.” He wrenched the pulsating heart out of the chest and leapt away with the withered, blackened organ in his hand. It sickened him. There was no triumph as he thought there would be.
The vampire screamed in rage, a high, unearthly sound that hurt the ears and sent wildlife scurrying for cover. “You learned well the kill because I live in you,” he hissed, poisonous saliva spewing from his mouth. “You are no different than me. You wanted to be like
me, but you did not have the guts to embrace the life.”
Bernado staggered toward him, his rotten teeth jagged and stained from thousands of kills, his body beginning to collapse in on itself. Julian stepped back farther, fully aware the aberration was still dangerous as long as the heart was in proximity to the body. He flung it away and directed a blade of light to incinerate it. At once the body began to flop around, spewing tainted blood that crept toward him relentlessly. Julian calmly sent the energy toward the body and then the blood, removing all evidence of Bernado’s existence. At last he used the white-hot heat to sear away the taint from his hands. From his soul.
It was over. At long last. It was over. He had never felt such sorrow, an oppressive, nearly numbing force weighing him down. He found himself down on one knee, his body shaking, his chest burning. This thing had nearly destroyed his life, had taken so much from him. The vampire had made him believe it was invincible, and Julian had spent centuries,
centuries
acquiring knowledge for this one moment in time. It was over in seconds. Only seconds. When the vampire had cost him so much.
Bernado was right. He had turned Julian into the very thing he despised. A killer without equal. The shadow had grown and spread, consuming him. Julian’s face was wet with tears as he looked up at the night sky. He was a monster without equal.
A
hunter
without equal. Come to me, Julian
. Desari’s soft voice washed over him like a cool, fresh breeze.
I do not think I can face the crowd there, beloved one
. He answered her honestly. He was used to a solitary existence, and at this moment, when the weight of his life’s sorrows hung on him, when he realized the numbers of his people he had slain, when the cost of losing
his twin for all those long centuries burdened his soul and shattered his heart, when he felt like a boy, shamed and damned by his own reckless youth, he wanted to be away from others.
Would it help if I came to you, my love?
There was the merest hesitation, as if she was afraid he didn’t want her near.
Despite the stony ache in his heart, he found himself nearly smiling. How could he not want her at his side? His heart. His soul. The blood running in his veins. His other half.
It would help a great deal.
He turned his head to watch her approach. Even in flight, her movements were wholly feminine. Whether on the wing, racing on four legs through the forest, or walking within her own body, she was the most beautiful woman he could imagine. He stood up as she landed lightly on the cliff beside him. She took his breath away. His tears away. She took the dark shadow and dispersed it for all time into the night.
Desari stood with the night sky at her back, her long hair cascading around her. Her smile held so much love for him, he could only stand spellbound, enthralled for all eternity by this one woman who completed him. She had given him his life. She had given him a family. She was his home.
Julian held out his hand for her. Desari’s mouth curved invitingly. She placed her hand in his, her fingers entwining with his so that they were woven together as they were meant to be. She moved right into his arms, sheltered against his heart. She turned her mouth up to his, tasting his tears, his boyhood, the terrible burden he had borne for so long. She kissed him, her body molding to his, and in his mind her beautiful voice rose in song just for him.
The notes skipped from his mind to the sky, silver
and gold notes of joy and happiness, of courage and admiration. She sang of love between two people, sacred and beautiful. She sang of peace and happiness. Her hands moved over him possessively, lovingly, checking his body for wounds. Her warrior was home.
Whatever lay ahead for them, whether human assassins or vampires, it didn’t matter. They were together, one and the same, and they were far too strong to allow anything to take what they had away from them.
Special thanks to the staff at Konocti Harbor
Resort and Spa who are always helpful,
manage to come up with terrific concerts and
genuinely are great people.
R
AVE
R
EVIEWS
F
OR
C
HRISTINE
F
EEHAN
!
New York Times
Bestselling Author
Romantic Times
Career Achievement Award Winner
Five-time Pearl Award Winner
“Christine Feehan is a magnificent storyteller.”
—
Romantic Times BOOKreviews
“If you have a taste for intense relationships and the darker side of fantasy, it’s hard to do better than Christine Feehan.”
—The Romance Reader
“Feehan has a knack for bringing vampiric Carpathians to vivid, virile life in her Dark novels.”
—
Publishers Weekly
“Feehan never fails to deliver the sexual tension or romance.…For a different and utterly satisfying vampire romance, this Dark series sets the bar pretty high.”
—Roundtable Reviews
DARK CHALLENGE
“The exciting and multifaceted world that impressive author Christine Feehan has created continues to improve with age. By introducing this new band of Carpathians, she is setting the stage for more exhilarating adventures to come.”
—
Romantic Times BOOKreviews
The Dark series (in order of publication):
DARK PRINCE
DARK DESIRE
DARK GOLD
DARK MAGIC
DARK CHALLENGE
DARK FIRE
DARK LEGEND
DARK GUARDIAN
DARK MELODY
DARK DESTINY
Other books by Christine Feehan:
DARK DREAMERS
(Anthology)
THE ONLY ONE
(Anthology)
AFTER TWILIGHT
(Anthology)
LAIR OF THE LION
THE SCARLETTI CURSE
There was complete silence in the room. A cold draft seemed to come out of the very walls and swirl around Nicoletta so that she shivered. Deep within her heart, she heard her own cry of unspoken protest. There was evil walking in the
palazzo
. She stared up at Don Scarletti, her gaze locked with his. Fierce. Intense. Soul to soul. She couldn’t even feel the hand of her companion, Maria Pia, in hers. She and the don were the only two people in existence. He was watching her closely, his mind in hers. She
felt
him there. He was waiting in silence for her to condemn him.
Unbidden came the image of his scraped knuckles, the small incriminating droplet of blood on his otherwise immaculate clothing. Nicoletta felt her heart pound. His gaze continued to bore straight into hers, and she couldn’t turn away from him. She knew he was waiting for it, knew he expected her to denounce him. Don Scarletti,
II Demonio
of the
palazzo
. The curse. The whispers.
The rumors. Still, Giovanni Scarletti stood tall and straight, his black eyes fathomless, his features carefully expressionless.
Nicoletta took a breath and let it out slowly. “Will you send your men to search the maze for Cristano? It is possible he wandered on and could not find his way out.”
Was
that what had happened to her former suitor?
The don bowed slightly. “At once,
piccola
. And I will send them into the hills to see if the young man was injured on his way home.” He said the words deliberately to remind her of the numerous times others had set out traveling and fallen victim to wild animals, the harsh terrain, or even to robbers. But his voice sounded incredibly gentle, and a warmth brushed at the walls of her mind so that she felt almost comforted.
Nicoletta swallowed the hard knot in her throat. It was difficult to think straight with the don watching her so intently. She could sense Maria Pia’s gaze on him now, accusing.
“Don Scarletti, you were the last person to see Cristano alive.” Maria Pia said what Nicoletta would not. Her very tone was a declaration of his guilt.
“We do not know that he is dead, Dona Sigmora,” Giovanni pointed out softly. His voice held a thread of menace as if his patience was fast wearing thin. “If the young man met his demise in the maze, the scavengers would be present overhead.”
Relief swept through Nicoletta. “That is true, Maria Pia,” she said. But a terrible dread was slowly creeping into her mind and heart and soul like a dark shadow. She would know if someone was hurt wouldn’t she? Surely she would know.
Maria Pia faced the don bravely. “The wedding should be postponed until the young man is found,” she challenged.
If you are exonerated
. The words were left
unsaid, but they shimmered there in the room, as vivid and alive as if Maria Pia had uttered them aloud in condemnation.
The black eyes gleamed ominously. “Nothing will stop the wedding, Dona Sigmora. Not you, not this rebellious young man. For all I know he disappeared with every intention of bringing a halt to the wedding plans. We are to be married on the morrow.” It was a decree, Giovanni’s dark features an implacable mask.
For a moment Maria Pia looked mutinous, but the don’s words seemed to sink in. She knew Cristano well. He had a shocking temper and, if humiliated, could sulk for days. He was quite capable of disappearing and causing alarm to get back at Nicoletta for not marrying him as he had demanded. Maria Pia looked at her young charge. She had the feeling Nicoletta was in terrible danger, and she wanted desperately to drag her from the
palazzo
. “It is possible I am worrying over nothing,” she said softly, looking at the floor in defeat. Her fear for Nicoletta had caused her to rashly condemn the don. But Giovanni Scarletti was not going to give up her beloved Nicoletta; she could see that in his masculine aggressiveness, his possessive posture each time he was near the young woman.
Giovanni reached out to capture Nicoletta’s hand, taking it right out of Maria Pia’s firm clasp. He carried her fingers to the warmth of his mouth. It was a blatant gesture, claiming her, branding her as his own.
His black gaze was locked on hers so that Nicoletta had a strange feeling of falling forward, to be trapped for all eternity in the depths of his eyes. Time stood still. Her heart beat for him. She felt the rush of blood, of heat, of liquid fire.
Don Scarletti released her reluctantly, his touch lingering for a moment before he glided away. “I have kept
my visitor waiting far too long, and I must arrange for my men to begin the search for your young friend.”
Nicoletta stood dazed, as if in a trance, staring at the closed door after the don left the room.
Maria Pia sighed heavily. “Do you believe him, Nicoletta? Really believe him? Because I am not certain I do. It is possible Cristano is hiding out in the hills. When he was a boy and angry with his
madre
, he did such things. Or it is possible he is hurt and needs help.” She was watching Nicoletta closely as she spoke.
Nicoletta’s teeth teased nervously at her lower lip. She should know if there was someone in need, and Maria Pia was well aware of it. Nicoletta had always known. And the bird would come to her. She looked at the older woman. “I must go outside, where I can feel the wind on my face. I want to look at the sky.”
“What do you have in your hair?” Maria Pia reached around her and picked strands of a spider’s web from her long tresses.
Nicoletta shoved a hand through the unruly black waves.
“Something is wrong here,
piccola
. When I am in this house I feel the echo of your
madre
’s screams as she was thrown over the balcony to her destruction. I can feel the spirits of the dead. They are uneasy in this
palazzo
.” She made the sign of the cross and kissed her crucifix. “May the good Madonna save you from your enemies.”
Nicoletta did not protest. She knew she had enemies at the
palazzo
; she just didn’t know why. She felt eyes staring at her in disapproval each time she left her bedchamber. “I must go outside,” she said again. Her heart felt heavy in her chest. She opened the door, turning back toward Maria Pia as she did so. “How did all of this start, so long ago? When did they first start to whisper
of the curse on the Scarletti
famiglia?
Is it possible there is a strain of madness in the Scarletti blood?”
Maria Pia glanced past Nicoletta to the waiting guards. “It is not a good thing to speak of in this place where the walls have eyes and ears.” She lifted her chin. “Come, let us go out to the courtyard. We will see if the don kept his word and sent his men looking for Cristano.”
“I can imagine many things about Don Scarletti, but he lives by his word. He would not tell me one thing and do another,” she said, to her own surprise defending him.
Maria Pia looked at her sharply. “It is possible you are already falling under his spell. I told you to be careful. He can make you say things you do not wish to reveal. You must be strong, Nicoletta. Until you know more of the don…”
“The man who is to be my husband,” Nicoletta whispered. “We are to be wed on the morrow. I will live with him, and this
palazzo
will be my home. I have no choice in the matter. You said even the Holy Father would not go against him.”
Maria Pia twisted her hands together as they moved down the long corridor to the stairs. She leaned on the banister and uttered a soft cry, once more crossing herself devoutly. “Look at this, Nicoletta! The artwork on his stairs. A serpent coiled around a tree branch! What manner of man is he?”
“He inherited the
palazzo
and the title from his
padre
. What should he have done? Refused to live in it because he did not like the artwork on the stairs? It is beautiful, Maria Pia. If you look at some of the work, it is truly remarkable.”
Maria Pia resorted to clucking as she often did when
she was agitated. “He has cast a spell over you,
bambina
.”
Nicoletta glanced over her shoulder at the silent guards following them at a circumspect distance. “Where is little Sophie?” The don’s niece, who had doted on Nicoletta since she came to the palazzo to help heal her, would be upset that had beloved mentor had been trapped in the palazzo’s maze of secret passageways while looking for her.
“The child was sent to her room,
signorina
,” one guard replied instantly.
Nicoletta looked at Maria Pia. “Come along with me. I must go to Sophie. She will be so frightened. By now she will think
il fantasma
has gotten me.”
As they started back up the stairs, the guard shook his head. “The child was removed from the nursery and is on the first floor.”
Nicoletta smiled at him. “Thank you.” She knew the exact hideous room the child had been banished to. She ran along the corridor toward the chamber, Maria Pia trailing behind and waiting outside the door.
Sophie lay facedown crying on the big bed, so small she could barely be seen among the covers. Nicoletta rushed to her and pulled her into her arms, rocking her while the child sobbed as if her heart was breaking.
“I thought I killed you!” The child hiccupped the words, her tears soaking Nicoletta’s neck. “I am sorry, Nicoletta.”
“
Bambina
,” Nicoletta hugged her even closer. “You did not do anything so wrong.”
Sophie lifted her head, looking forlorn. “
Zio
Giovanni told me never to go into the passage. He said it was dangerous. Now I have to stay in this scary room forever. I have to be punished.” She wailed the last dramatically and looked as pathetic as possible.
Nicoletta laughed softly. “Maria Pia shall stay with you, and I will go talk to your
zio
. Perhaps he will think you have been punished enough. But you must heed his warnings. I do not think
i fantasmi
guard the passageways, but you could get lost in there and endanger your life. You must promise me you will never go in there again.”
Sophie nodded vigorously, willing to promise Nicoletta anything at all.
“Dry your tears,
bambina
. I will get you out of your prison.” She ruffled the child’s hair and beckoned Maria Pia into the room to comfort Sophie while she was gone.
Nicoletta hurried back along the hall, but outside the don’s study, she hesitated, her courage suddenly faltering. She was interrupting his work, intruding on his time. She was all at once unsure of herself. Don Scarletti had been kind to her, but he had a certain reputation, and, a very powerful man, he had probably earned that reputation many times over. She bit her lip in an agony of indecision. He and his important visitor had already been interrupted once, so he could rescue her from the secret passageway.
She glanced over her shoulder at the guards, then rapped on the door quickly before she completely lost her nerve.
Giovanni opened the door to find a very nervous Nicoletta gazing up at him. He wrapped one large palm around the nape of her neck as he moved out into the corridor, closing the door to his study behind him, obviously affording his visitor privacy. His thumb tipped her face up to his. “Once again I find you without your companion,
cara mia
. How is it you manage to elude Maria Pia so often? She looks quite capable to me.”
That faint betraying shiver began again, from deep within her. Helplessly she glanced at the guards. They
were no help, moving away to give the don privacy in dealing with his errant bride-to-be. Giovanni urged her closer to the hard strength of his body. “What is so urgent,
piccola
, that you would dare
il demonio
in his lair?” His thumb was now feathering along the delicate line of her jaw, lingering over her frantically beating pulse.
Her dark eyes were enormous as she looked up at him. “I do not think of you as
il demonio
,” she denied.
He quirked an elegant eyebrow at her. “Is that so?”
“I might have before I met you,” she conceded reluctantly, unfailingly truthful.
His black eyes gleamed at her, a wicked amusement dancing in their depths. “I may have become one since I met you,” he answered her suggestively.
She frowned at him. “I think you like to scare me with your wickedness, Don Scarletti, but in truth, I am not so easily frightened.” It was almost the truth. No one else seemed to frighten her in quite the way he managed. He look so implacable. Dare she argue with him? “I…I have a need to speak with you…about your order to have your men taste my food and drink. I would not wish anyone to be inadvertently ill on my account,” she said haltingly.
Giovanni shook his head gravely. “I will not rescind my order,
cara mia
, not even to please you. But you already knew that. I suspect you had another reason to seek me out.”
He was watching her with such intensity, she wasn’t certain she would be able to think straight much longer. “I…I would like to take young Sophie with me outside into the courtyard. She is very sorry for her disobedience, and I have lectured her on the danger of the passageway.”
He stared down at her for so long, Nicoletta thought
she might melt. She was mesmerized by the hot intensity in his black gaze. She was very aware of his powerful body so close to hers; she could feel the heat of his skin. There seemed to be a current arcing between them like a lightning bolt, sizzling and dancing so that her skin became sensitive and ached with an odd, unfamiliar need. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and her knees went weak. Butterfly wings brushed at her stomach, and heat pooled deep within her.
Then, suddenly, his mouth fastened to hers, hot and exciting, sweeping her away. It was a dark promise, erotic and sensual, his tongue demanding rather than asking for her response. She melted into him, boneless and pliant, her body molding to his, so that she felt his fierce arousal. Instead of pulling away as she should have, Nicoletta reveled in her power, wanting more, suddenly craving his dark secrets, aching with a need so strong she burned with it. Liquid fire. Molten heat.
Her breasts swelled with need, pushing into the heavy muscles of his body, straining for his touch. The thin material of her blouse seemed all at once too much of a barrier between them. Her mind was suddenly filled with sensual images—her hands on his skin, his palm cupping her breast, his mouth blazing fire along her throat, lower, across bare skin to close, hot and moist, over her aching breast. She wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything in her life.
