Dark Prince (39 page)

"Why are you doing this? Why do you betray him?"

"He betrays all of our people." Mikhail strode through the door, tall and strong, looking invincible.

Slovensky flattened himself against the wall, trying to appear inconspicuous. Andre pressed a razor-sharp claw into Raven's jugular. "Be very, very careful, Mikhail. You could kill me, there is no question, but she will die first." Andre dragged her even closer, locking her in front of him as he lifted her body completely off the ground. Blankets scattered as Raven was dangled helplessly, her eyes fastened on Mikhail.

Mikhail's smile was tender, loving, as he focused on her face.
I love you, little one. Be brave.
"What do you wish, Andre?" His voice was gentle and low.

"I want your blood."

"I will give it to Raven to replenish her."

Raven's heart slammed against her ribs. Deliberately she leaned into Andre's claw. A dot of blood beaded, trickled down her neck. The vampire tightened his arm around her ribs, nearly cracking them. "Do not do such a stupid thing again," he reprimanded her, then turned his attention back to Mikhail. "You cannot come close enough to her to give blood. Drain it into a container."

Mikhail shook his head slowly.
He wants my blood for himself, love, to become more powerful, to aid the drug in confusing your mind.
Already he could feel the effects of the drugs in her. She was struggling to stay with him.
I cannot allow him my blood.
The words echoed sadly.

Raven reached for Gregori.
You must come
.

The drug he has given you is an ancient one,
Gregori explained, the words brushing softly in her mind,
made from the pressed petals of a flower found only in the northern regions of our lands. It will disorient you, but that is all. The vampire will attempt to plant his own memories of you with him and then will use pain to control your thoughts. He has established a blood bond, so he can monitor you. When you think of Mikhail, he can cause you pain. It is not the drug, it is the vampire. Censor your thoughts as much as possible to conserve your strength. When you reach for Mikhail as your mind and body must, Andre must not know. You focus better than any Carpathian I have known. He knows nothing of our bond. I can find you anywhere. The moment I am finished attending Jacques, I will go to Mikhail. You have my word Mikhail will survive. We will find you. Stay alive for the sake of all our people.

The vampire and Mikhail stared across the room at one another. Power emanated from Mikhail's every pore. He looked coolly amused by the vampire's dilemma.

A ripple of malevolence distorted the tense vibrations in the room, striking at Raven's temple.
Mikhail!

She screamed the warning in her mind as Slovensky shot him three times. In the small cell, the noise was a loud clap of thunder reverberating off the rock walls. The bullets drove Mikhail backward and he fell beside Father Hummer, his precious blood staining his white silk shirt a vivid crimson.

"No!" Raven fought the vampire in earnest, fear lending her strength that the loss of her blood had taken. For a moment she wrenched herself nearly free but was jerked back, the vampire's hands around her throat, squeezing hard. Raven fought down panic. She didn't dare pass out.
Gregori, Mikhail's down. They shot him.

I feel it. All Carpathians feel it. Do not worry. He will not die.
Gregori was clearly moving closer.
They were very careful to inflict flesh wounds that bleed heavily, not mortal wounds such as they gave Jacques. He is conveying to me the extent of his injuries.

The vampire dragged Raven with him to the door. "The others will come, but it will be too late. Do not think he will get out of this," he hissed in her ear. "Slovensky and the others will die for this deed, and with them all records of what occurred in this place. You will be mine, far away where they cannot find you."

Raven kept her eyes and mind focused on Mikhail, broadcasting to Gregori everything she saw: Slovensky manacling Mikhail's wrists and ankles, chaining him to a wall, laughing, taunting, kicking at him. Mikhail remained silent, his dark eyes very black, glinting like ice.

The vampire lifted her slender body, ran with blurring speed from the place of death and destruction, launched himself skyward, his talons gripping Raven as he sped into the night.

Gregori merged his mind with Mikhail's easily. Over the centuries of battles, wars, and vampire hunters, they had exchanged blood many times to preserve one another's life. Mikhail was in pain, his blood loss great. The shooting had been a deliberate attempt to weaken his immense power. Slovensky was busy taunting Mikhail with graphic details of torture.

Mikhail's black eyes smoldered an eerie red, a burning flame he turned on Slovensky as the man approached him. The power in those chilling eyes stopped Slovensky for a moment. "You'll learn to hate me, vampire," James Slovensky snarled. "And you'll learn to fear me. You'll learn who really holds the power."

A slight, mocking smile touched Mikhail's mouth. "I do not hate you, mortal. And I could never fear you. You are but a pawn in a game of power. And you have been sacrificed." The voice was very low, a musical thread of sound that Slovensky found himself wanting to hear again.

The man knelt beside his victim, smiling his pleasure at the other's pain. "Andre will give us the rest of you bloodsuckers."

"And why would he do that?" Mikhail closed his eyes, his face lined and strained, but the hint of a smile remained.

"You turned him, forced him into such an unholy life, the same way you turned the woman. He is going to try to save her." Slovensky leaned closer, drew his knife. "I think I should dig that slug out of you. We wouldn't want you getting an infection now, would we?" His giggle was high-pitched with anticipation.

Mikhail didn't flinch away from the blade. His black eyes snapped open, blazing with power. Slovensky fell backwards, scrambling away on all fours to crouch against the far wall. Fumbling in his coat, he jerked out the gun and held it pointed at Mikhail.

The ground rolled almost gently, seemed to swell so that the concrete floor bulged, then cracked. Slovensky grabbed for the wall behind him to steady himself and lost the gun in the process. Above his head a rock fell from the wall, bounced dangerously close, and rolled to a halt beside him. A second rock, and a third fell, so that Slovensky had to cover his head as the rocks rained down in a roaring shower.

Slovensky's cry of fear was high and thin. He made himself even smaller, peering through his fingers at the Carpathian. Mikhail had not moved to protect himself. He lay exactly as Slovensky had positioned him, those dark eyes staring at him. Swearing, Slovensky tried to lunge for the gun.

The floor bucked and heaved under him, sending the gun skittering out of reach. A second wall swayed precariously and rocks cascaded down, striking the man about the head and shoulders, driving him to the floor. He watched a curious, frightening pattern form. Not one rock touched the priest's body. Not one came close to Mikhail. The Carpathian simply watched him with those damn eyes and that faint mocking smile as the rocks buried Slovensky's legs, then fell on his back. There was an ominous crack, and Slovensky screamed under the heavy load on his spine.

"Damn you to hell," Slovensky snarled. "My brother will track you down."

Mikhail said nothing, simply watching the havoc Gregori was creating. Mikhail would have killed James Slovensky outright, without the drama Gregori had such a flare for, but he was tired, his body in a precarious state. He had no wish to drain his energy further. Raven would be in the vampire's hands for the time it took Gregori to heal him. He couldn't allow himself to think of what Andre might do to her. Mikhail stirred, pain shafting through him. More rocks fell on Slovensky in retaliation, covering him like a blanket, beginning to form a macabre grave.

Gregori moved into the room with his familiar silent glide, grace and power clinging to him as he strode through the wreckage of the wall. "This is becoming a bad habit."

"Oh, shut up," Mikhail said without rancor.

Gregori's touch was infinitely gentle as he inspected the wounds. "They knew what they were doing. Placed these precisely to miss vital organs but to bleed you as much as possible." It took seconds to deal with the manacles and free Mikhail from the chains. Gregori pressed soil over the wounds to stop further leakage.

"Check Father Hummer." Mikhail's voice was weak.

"He is dead." Gregori barely glanced at the broken body.

"Be certain." It was an order. Mikhail never ordered Gregori to do anything. That had never been their relationship.

For a moment Gregori's silver eyes glittered as they stared at one another.

"Please, Gregori, if there is a chance…" Mikhail closed his eyes.

Shaking his head at the delay, Gregori dutifully went to the priest's crumpled body and felt for a pulse. He knew it was fruitless, knew Mikhail knew it, too, but just the same he checked. Gregori was careful to be gentle with the body. "I am sorry, Mikhail. He is gone."

"I do not want him left in this place."

"Stop talking and allow me to do my job," Gregori growled, easing Mikhail back onto the floor. "Take my blood while I stop up these holes."

"Find Raven."

"Take my blood, Mikhail. The vampire will not harm her. He will have some patience this night. You must be strong for the hunt. Drink what I freely offer. I would not want to find it necessary to compel you."

"You are becoming a nuisance, Gregori," Mikhail complained, but obediently he took hold of the healer's proffered wrist. Gregori's blood was ancient, as was Mikhail's. There was none other that could help as quickly. There was silence as Mikhail fed, replenishing what was lost. Gregori turned his wrist slightly to ease Mikhail away from him, knowing his strength was needed for healing and transporting his prince to safety.

"The priest goes with us," Mikhail reiterated. A wave of heat coursed through the ice of his body, leaving him needy, hungry. His mind reached for his lifemate, the need to merge overwhelming.

Pain exploded in her head, in his, so that he gasped and withdrew, his black eyes seeking Gregori's pale ones in agony.
Sleep for now, Mikhail. We will go on the hunt soon enough. We must take care of these wounds first.
Gregori commanded it in a mesmerizing voice. Singsong, a flowing chant of ancient language.
You will hear my words, let Mother Earth welcome you. The soil will heal your wounds and soothe your mind. Sleep, Mikhail. My blood is powerful, mixing with yours. Feel it healing your body.
Gregori closed his eyes, merging completely with Mikhail, flowing in him so that he could find every ragged hole, push out foreign objects, and repair all damage from the inside out with the precision of the most skilled surgeon.

A large horned owl circled the ruined building, then settled on the crumpled wall. Slowly the wings folded and the owl's round eyes surveyed the scene below. The talons flexed, relaxed. Gregori lifted his head, coming back to his own body. He spoke the Carpathian's name softly in acknowledgment. "Aidan."

The owl's shape lengthened, shimmered, formed a tall, tawny-haired man with glittering gold eyes. His blond appearance was unusual for a Carpathian. He carried his body like a soldier, his manner sure and confident. "Who dared to do this?" he demanded. "What of Jacques and Mikhail's woman?"

Gregori growled softly, a slash of pale eyes pinning the male Carpathian. "Bring me fresh soil and prepare the priest's body." Gregori turned back to his work as Byron arrived. Slow, unhurried, the beautiful ancient chant filled the night with hope and promise. No one would believe he was working against time, needing to get Mikhail on his feet this night.

Aidan brought the richest soil he could find, stepping back to admire Gregori as he worked. The poultices were mixed carefully and applied over the external wounds. The wind stirred the dirt and dust from the pile of rocks, carrying warnings to the Carpathians. Two humans were approaching in a truck.

Byron knelt beside Edgar Hummer, reverently running his hands over the priest's face, gathering the small, wasted body up into his arms. "I will take him to sacred ground, Gregori, and then destroy those bodies beside the cabin."

"Who did this?" Aidan repeated.

Gregori simply flooded Aidan's mind with the information rather than bothering with conversation.

"I have known Andre for many centuries," Aidan said. "He is half a century younger than I. We fought together in more than one battle. Our times grow desperate." Aidan glided over the fallen walls, his golden eyes glowing in the darkness. Each leaf on every tree gleamed a vivid silver, bathed in the light of the moon, but Aidan had long ago lost his ability to see in color. His world was dark and gray and would be until he found his lifemate, or sought the solace of the dawn. He inhaled, caught the scent of game, the stench of death, the intrusive odor of man. Oil and exhaust issuing from the approaching vehicle fouled the clarity of the air.

He moved through the line of oaks, working to quell the ice-cold predator instinct demanding blood for what one of his kind had done. Their race, so precarious, teetering on the brink of extinction, could not survive another vampire hunt. Every remaining male had pinned his hopes on the survival of Mikhail's woman. If she could adapt to their life, if she could be sealed as a true lifemate, if she could produce female children strong enough to live beyond the first year, then all Carpathian males had a chance. It would be a matter of hanging on, searching the world for women such as Raven. For Andre to betray them all was treason as its worst.

Fog began to gather, thicken, an oppressive, nearly impenetrable veil that wound through the trees and closed off the road. The brakes squealed loudly as the driver came to a halt, unable to see in the thick fog. Aidan moved closer, unseen, a dangerous predator hunting prey. "How long before we get there, Uncle Gene?" A boy's voice, eager and excited, drifted on the wind.