Dark Lycan (Carpathian)

Fen shook him, never lessening his grip. “I see you, Bardolf,” he hissed. “You knew your possession had no chance of capturing me with his holding spell. Why sacrifice a pawn of value?”

He’s shadowed. How would Bardolf know how to split himself and implant a shadow in another? Tatijana asked. Very few mages can do this. It’s extremely difficult and very frightening. Shadows are lethal, Fen, and they can enter anyone close to them. Be careful.

Fen didn’t need to be told Drummel was shadowed. He could see Bardolf staring back at him through the eyes of the man’s body he’d commandeered. He had found a way to possess a mage as skilled and as powerful as Drummel. What did that say about Bardolf?

Drummel’s mouth moved several times, his lips struggling to form words. “I will take my pack and move on, Fenris Dalka.”

There was power in speaking another’s name. Every instinct Fen had immediately put him on guard. He stretched his senses, scanning the area around him. It was nearly impossible to detect Lycans when they wanted to remain hidden. Werewolves had a more difficult time as they couldn’t contain their energy and their eagerness for the kill, but they were still adept at hiding from the average hunter.

Be on the alert, Tatijana. There is more going on here than meets the eye.

“Why do you say this to me, Bardolf? Why not just take your pack and go?” Fen demanded.

“I want your word you will no longer hunt us.” Drool and spittle ran in long strings from Drummel’s mouth to his chin

That made no sense. Fen was a hunter. A Carpathian. Bardolf had recognized that he was both Lycan and Carpathian, which meant he had to know Fen was Carpathian first, an ancient hunter of the vampire. It was his duty, a matter of honor to hunt the undead. Bardolf was definitely the undead. He might have werewolf mixed in, but he was vampire and had to be destroyed.

“It is my sworn duty to my people to bring justice to those who have given up their souls for the rush of adrenaline they get for the kill.” Fen’s hold on Drummel’s throat was relentless. He wasn’t about to allow Bardolf’s shadow to escape and try to slip inside him. “I think you already know that.”

I will watch for the shadow. If he tries to enter you, I can repel him, Tatijana assured. I didn’t spend centuries in Xavier’s lair without learning every spell he ever made. Bardolf had to learn from Drummel. Yes, he was very good, but I am better.

There was no bragging in her tone. Tatijana was afraid of what was happening. She knew just how dangerous the mage was and now doubly so with Bardolf’s shadow in him. She had confidence in herself, but she didn’t want Fen to be overly confident.

Have no worries, my lady, he assured. What he is saying to me is pure drivel. He knows I will hunt them. I am well aware this is a stalling tactic.

He inhaled, using Lycan-heightened senses, the acute hearing and smell, but he didn’t take his eyes from Drummel.

“I offer you a deal.”

“Justice does not make deals, Bardolf. I am the one appointed to bring that justice to you.”

Drummel spit and snarled, the red eyes spinning wildly with hatred and malice before Bardolf made a tremendous effort to recover. Just that alone put Fen further on edge. Vampires were not known for their control. Why would Bardolf make such an effort?

Fen, I am telling you, if Bardolf was Lycan before he became vampire, he could not possibly have placed a shadow of himself inside of a mage of Drummel’s importance. An ancient Carpathian might know. Even a vampire might have run across a mage willing to trade his soul for immortality, but how would a Lycan even know about such things? Tatijana asked.

If Tatijana was right, and she was the daughter of the most powerful mage in history, then Bardolf couldn’t have placed his shadow in Drummel. Fen didn’t wait to find out what Bardolf had to say next. There was no reasoning with madmen, and he saw no reason to wait for the attack he knew was coming any moment. He struck hard and fast, breaking Drummel’s neck.

The mage’s eyes opened wide, Bardolf staring in shock and horror. The body seized, convulsed. Poisonous sweat burst from his pores, out his eyelids and mouth.

Look out. Get back, Tatijana warned. She withdrew from her refuge, streaking to the battlefield to aid him. The sliver of Bardolf will seek another host.

Fen spun around, more worried about what he couldn’t see or hear than that small piece of Bardolf. Keep it off me, he commanded, certain of her now, knowing she would guard his back. And stay hidden. Do not reveal yourself no matter what happens, he added, cautioning her. They were not alone and he knew it.

The dead body jerked. Coughed. Fen didn’t spare it a glance. That was Tatijana’s territory and he could already hear her murmuring an ancient spell directed at the sliver of a shadow, so small but deadly. His was to find the unseen threat. He moved away from the dead body where Bardolf’s shadow sought a new host.

On the ground, small insects swarmed over rotting vegetation and Fen leapt into the air, just as creatures in the form of half man, half wolf, poured out of the trees in all directions. Directly beneath where he’d been standing, the ground erupted into a dark geyser of contaminated soil, spraying high, and with it, another large figure burst into the air after Fen, his long wolflike arms extended, claws tipped with glistening poison.

Fen reversed direction, hurtling toward the newcomer with blurring speed, slamming into him with such force they both tumbled back toward the ground. In his fist, he had a silver stake. This was the vampire/wolf Bardolf had tangled with and supposedly killed. Bardolf had exchanged life for servitude under a master killer.

Fen plunged the silver stake through the chest wall, deep into the heart of the vampire. He barely recognized him, a Carpathian male only a few years younger than him, one he’d played with as a boy. Abel, his parents called him. He’d been a boy with a sunny personality. Always smiling. Fen would never have thought Abel would choose to become vampire. He actually felt a pang of sorrow when he drove that silver stake into his chest and twisted the spiral in deeper.

Black blood poured over his fist, wrist and arm, burning like acid down to his bone. Abel’s eyes widened, but he didn’t pull away as expected. He was not only vampire, he was also werewolf. The long snout rushed at Fen, the razor-sharp teeth sinking into his neck and shoulder, slicing down to the bone as Abel ripped chunks of flesh away. Blood streamed down Fen’s body, and the vampire lapped at the ancient treat, gulping to get as much as possible.

Fen shoved him away as they both hit the ground hard. The scent of his rich, Carpathian blood set up a frenzied mass hysteria. The werewolves howled and rushed at him. Fen dissolved as they all leapt on him. As he streaked away, one arm emerged, fist holding a silver stake, which he plunged into the nearest werewolf’s heart. He moved quickly to get out of that crush of werewolves, a trail of ruby red blood giving his path away.

He pushed the pain to another dimension as he worked furiously to stop the blood flow. Tatijana was immediately beside him, a mere translucent image. Her hands became flesh and moved over his open lacerations. The sound of her soft healing chant filled his mind. For a moment the ice cold of his injuries burned hot. She’d stopped the blood by cauterizing the area.

You cannot be here. It’s too dangerous. If he spots you, he’ll go after you in order to get to me.

I can scatter the werewolves, and hunt them from the sky.

There was no time to argue with her. Watch for tricks and stay high. Lycans can leap enormous distances.

The tree limbs shook. Trunks split with a terrible boom, a heralding of great danger. Tatijana streaked for the sky, shifting into her blue dragon, answering the echoing blast with a roaring challenge of her own.

Abel followed the trail of red blood, and was on Fen just as Tatijana took to the air. The undead leapt after her, but Fen blocked his path with his body, so that the vampire slammed into him and they both landed on their feet in the middle of the werewolf pack.

“Take him, my hungry wolves,” Abel commanded, his voice filled with compulsion. “Do not let him escape. He is my gift to you with his hot, rich blood, fresh and flowing in his veins.”

Howling, the wolves surrounded Fen. He moved in a circle, keeping his gaze on the Sange rau, but his senses waiting for the attack from the werewolves. The rumbling growls grew louder, indicating the pack was working itself up to attack mode. Abel smirked, his black-stained, serrated teeth were stuck deep into his receding gums as he pulled the silver stake from his heart and tossed it to the ground at Fen’s feet.

“I have come to join this party,” a voice announced.

A Carpathian hunter strode out of the trees into the midst of the frenzied werewolves, drawing them away from Fen. Silver eyes slashed as he moved fast through their ranks, breaking necks and backs and then tossing the bodies aside.

I’m sorry. That’s Gregori Daratrazanoff, second to the prince and prime protector of the Carpathian people. He must have followed me here. I can’t flame the werewolves from the sky without burning Gregori alive.

As fast as Gregori was, the werewolves were faster, seeking new blood, hot and alive. They swarmed him, sheer numbers taking him down until he was buried beneath the frenzied bodies.

Cursing under his breath, Fen had no choice but to share his knowledge of all things rogue and the vampire/wolf combination with the hunter through the common Carpathian telepathic link. He knew he was putting himself at risk—the Carpathian could glean a tremendous amount of information about him as well in seconds. He had used the common pathway so rarely, he couldn’t be certain he had conveyed the speed and strength of the rogues, or the immense power of the Sange rau. As he passed on the information, Fen leapt into the fray, hurtling bodies off the prince’s guardian.

As Gregori struggled to stand, Abel struck hard and fast, rushing Fen, hitting him from behind and knocking him off his feet. Fen called on his Lycan blood, twisting in midair as he went down, shifting with lightning speed so that it was Lycan claws grasping Abel’s neck and yanking him down with him. His claws dug deep into the vampire’s neck, anchoring himself, his own muzzle growing to accommodate the expanse of teeth.

They rolled on the ground, Fen taking them away from the writhing mass of werewolves, his teeth tearing at Abel’s throat.

Gregori, get out of there! he warned as he tore into the Sange rau with the strong bite of the Lycan. Black blood poured over him, his muzzle, and down his neck and chest, burning like acid. The scent of burnt flesh permeated the air.

Abel screamed in horror and fear as Fen relentlessly held him, uncaring that the undead ripped at his flesh and tore at his chest to get to his heart. He had to hold out until the undead became so terrified that he called to his pack. It was the only way to save Gregori from the vicious, voracious pack.

Fen drove one fist deep into Abel’s chest, claws searching for the withered, blackened heart, even as he continued to bite chunks of rotted flesh from the vampire/wolf.

“Kill this one. Leave the other. All of you, kill this one,” Abel screamed.

His voice was high-pitched and hurt the sensitive ears of the werewolves. They set up a terrible din, howling and screaming, as they reluctantly obeyed their leader. Out of the corner of his eye, Fen could see Gregori on the ground, still fighting off a particularly large werewolf who didn’t want to give up the rich blood of the Carpathian.

Above him, the blue dragon soared across the sky, circling around above the canopy to suddenly drop down with a steady stream of fire that engulfed several of the werewolves. She took great care to stay clear of Gregori. The tall werewolf ripping and tearing at him leapt without warning, without so much as turning his head, claws catching the underside of the blue dragon’s belly where he hung by his curved long nails alone.

The blue dragon retaliated with a curling of her long, spiked tail. It swept beneath her to hit the werewolf with a tremendous slap, the spikes driving in deep even as her great wings drove hard to lift her high above the canopy. The force of the blow knocked the rogue’s claws loose. For a moment he teetered, desperately raking at her belly for a better grip. The tail slapped him a second time, and with a sharp cry, he fell back to earth.

Blood dripped steadily from the wounded dragon, but she dove after the werewolf as he hurtled toward the ground, righting himself in order to better land on his feet. The werewolf looked up just as the wedge-shaped head shot toward him, bellowing fire as she trumpeted her pain and rage. Flames engulfed the wolf as he fell to the ground, landing hard. He leapt to his feet, legs clearly broken, but still, he ran screaming through the remaining pack, fanning the fire as he did so that the orange-red flames roared and grew larger.

The moment the werewolf had leapt to claw at the blue dragon, Gregori staggered to his feet, bleeding in dozens of places. He thrust his hand toward the rest of the rogue pack, setting a barrier between Fen and the werewolves, preventing them from rushing the hunter as he fought the powerful vampire/wolf cross. Some of the rogues turned back toward Gregori while others tore at the shield in an effort to go to the aid of their master.

The dead body of the drunken human jerked and moved, inching across the ground toward Gregori, the shadowy sliver of Bardolf working to find a live host to help his master.

Behind you! Tatijana warned.

The blue dragon circled back, large globs of blood falling from the sky as she banked and came in low. Gregori swung his head around, seeing the abomination of dead flesh digging fingernails into the earth to pull the body toward him.

I’ll burn it, but you have to get out of there, Tatijana warned.

Gregori made a valiant effort to get out of the line of fire, stumbling toward the pack trying to tear down the barrier between them and Fen. Fen and the Sange rau rolled across the shivering ground, neither letting go of their hold on the other. As Tatijana made her approach, the ground shifted and rocked, throwing Gregori down.

The earth shuddered, trembled and then beneath the surface, one side drove the other upward. Great cracks appeared. Trees split in half.

From her vantage point in the sky, Tatijana could see the huge zigzagging crack, a great yawning abyss opening and rocketing toward Fen and the vampire/wolf as their fierce battle continued.

Fen! Tatijana screamed his name in her mind, half warning, half sobbing.

She flamed the dead body jerking and clawing its way toward Gregori and continued diving straight down. Tucking her wings and dropping like a stone, she hurtled toward that widening crack just as it engulfed Fen and the Sange rau. Gregori leapt after them, just as the werewolves broke through the shield to get to their master. They tumbled into the narrow crack in their rush to get to the rogue leader.

Fen dropped through the crack, shoulders scraping on either side of the walls of dirt, roots and rock. He hung grimly onto Abel, claws digging deeper into the chest, determined to get to the heart even as he tore chunks from the vampire’s neck and throat. Neither could dissolve into vapor as their claws prevented the other from getting away.

Tatijana blasted past Gregori, wings still tucked tight against her body, as she dove after Fen. As she approached the two combatants, she stretched her neck as far as it would go, her giant, wedged-shaped head shoving itself up against the side of Abel’s head. She let loose a blast of fire, taking great care even as they were tumbling, to make certain she concentrated the exhale of flames only over the vampire’s skull.

Fen couldn’t help but admire her skill. She was still diving, moving fast, and he felt the blast of heat, but not one hint of flame touched him. Abel screamed, the sound horrible. The smell was worse. The earth began to close below them with ominous groans and creaks. The very planet seemed to shudder.

Let him go, Tatijana ordered. Right now, you have to let him go or we’ll all be killed. All three of us.

He was so close. His fingers were around that withered heart. He couldn’t quite yank it free. Abel’s too powerful to leave alive. I just have to get a better grip . . .

Tatijana used her triangular head to knock the vampire/wolf out of Fen’s hands. Abel dropped away, the wind fanning the flames totally engulfing his head. Tatijana used her long neck to wind around Fen, catching him before he could drop away. He caught the spines and pulled himself around until he could slide onto her back. Her wings braked their fall.

Fen looked up to see Gregori dropping fast, his bloody body ravaged and torn. He held out his hand. Gregori!

His hand caught Gregori’s wrist, Gregori’s fingers wrapped tightly around his. Fen dragged him onto the dragon’s back. He heard Gregori grunt in pain, but the hunter gripped him hard as the blue dragon made her valiant effort to outrun the closing of the earth. The walls scraped her wings, tearing chunks of skin from her. She cried out, but she continued the ascent.

Every werewolf she passed, most clinging to the dirt walls of the deep fissure, tried to claw and scrape at her, sometimes driving teeth into her in a desperate attempt to either impede her progress or hitch a ride. They were all trying to climb fast up those dirt walls before the crack closed all the way. Below them, both sides of the abyss accelerated the speed with which they were slamming closed.

Tatijana burst into the air above the gaping hole in the ground and nearly toppled from the sky. She landed awkwardly, her sides heaving just as the two sides of the crevasse jolted together with a terrible grinding sound. The blue dragon staggered forward in an effort to keep her passengers safe, leaving behind a thick trail of blood. She shuddered, stumbled and went down, the wedge-shaped head slamming hard and plowing through the soil as her body continued driving forward.

Tatijana! A woman’s cry filled Fen’s mind using his lifemate’s path to him. Torn. Frightened. Shocked. Is she dead? I’m coming to her.

He knew at once that voice was Branislava, Tatijana’s sister. Do not. I can heal her and protect her. Gregori is here as well, but not both of you. Trust me to do this.

Fen leapt from the dragon’s back, landing on his feet, the long distance jolting him hard. He glanced down at his body and was shocked to see the blood and chunks of gaping flesh where Abel had clawed, bit and raked him.

Branislava was in his mind for a moment drawing as much information about him as possible before she abruptly acquiesced. If you let anything happen to her I will hunt you for all your days until I destroy you.

I accept that.

He broke the connection between them as he rushed around the dragon’s body to the head and caught it in his arms, bringing it up so the huge eyes stared into his.

“Shift, Tatijana. Shift right now. If you never ever obey me again in this lifetime, you do it this once. Shift for me now.” He poured everything he was into that command. His fear for her. His anger that he had allowed her to get hurt. His growing love. His respect. His need that she stay alive and stay with him.

Gregori jumped from her back, landing heavily, barely managing to stay on his feet. He staggered around the large body of the dragon to the head as well.

The great eyes of the dragon blinked and then closed, but Fen felt her body shudder with the effort to obey. He slipped into her mind. Consciousness was fading fast. Come to me, sívamet—my love. Give yourself to me. I will hold you safe.

There was one moment of uncertainty, as if she might not trust him enough to place herself so fully into his hands. He waited for her to make up her mind, although there was no time and his heart pounded so hard in his chest it sounded like thunder to him. She capitulated suddenly and he felt her let go, giving her spirit essence into his care.

Immediately the great blue dragon was gone and Tatijana’s body was in his arms. He didn’t wait. He tore open his wrist and pressed it to her mouth. He sank to the ground, holding her to him. Gregori went to his knees beside them. He immediately shed his wounded body and became pure light. He entered Tatijana’s body and began to work feverishly to stem the flow of blood. He didn’t stop, not even when two more hunters dove from the sky to aid them.

Jacques Dubrinsky, brother to the prince, and Falcon Amiras, an ancient hunter, looked around the battlefield. Some werewolves were beginning to stir. Some bodies were already regenerating.

“Tell us what to do to kill them,” Jacques said. “Nothing like coming late to the party.”

“Silver spikes. Drive them completely through their hearts and then remove the head of the rogue. Burn the bodies with the spikes in them,” Fen said.

He was tired. Exhausted. He kept his focus on Tatijana, holding her close while he fed her life-giving blood. He was grateful to Gregori, so torn up, but selflessly healing Tatijana, putting her before his own injuries.

Falcon came to stand beside Fen. “You and Gregori need a little healing of your own,” he pointed out, offering his own wrist. “I offer freely,” he added in the tradition of the Carpathian people.

Fen hesitated. It had been long since he’d trusted anyone but Dimitri.

“You need it,” Falcon told him. “For her. Do you remember me? You were a few years older. You helped to hone my fighting skills.”

Fen inclined his head. He had to shift Tatijana in his arms, propping her against his chest while he continued to give her as much blood as he could. It was slow going, as he basically had to swallow for her. He bent his head to Falcon’s proffered wrist. The ancient blood hit him with a rush of strength, in spite of his horrendous wounds.

He could feel the difference in Tatijana, the way Gregori meticulously repaired the damage done to her belly and sides. Her arms were torn with bite marks and multiple lacerations. Gregori’s body was ravaged and torn as well, but he took his time, ensuring he missed nothing.

The moment he was back in his own body, swaying with weariness, Jacques was there, one arm going around the healer and the other offering him blood. “This looks like one heck of a battle,” he said. “In all my years, I’ve never run into a rogue pack.”

Fen politely sealed the small wounds in Falcon’s wrist. “This is a big pack. Two vampires/wolves called the Sange rau by the Lycans who run with them.”

All three Carpathians exchanged long looks and then turned their full attention on Fen. He shifted Tatijana in his arms. “The vampires are crosses, both Lycan and vampire. I knew Bardolf, an alpha Lycan. That was many years ago. A vampire cross had torn through packs, completely destroying entire packs, and I joined the hunt for him. Evidence looked as though Bardolf had killed him. Instead, they must have joined forces. I tracked them here.”

“Who is guarding the prince with both of you here?” Gregori demanded of Falcon and Jacques. “He sent you after me, didn’t he?”

Fen hid a smile at the sheer frustration in Gregori’s voice.

“At least he didn’t come himself, this time,” Jacques pointed out. “That’s a first for him. Must be his son mellowing him out.” He grinned down at Gregori. “You’re a little worse for wear. I can’t let you go home this way. Savannah would have my head. Let me see what I can do to heal you while Falcon works on . . .” Deliberately he waited.

“Fen. Fenris Dalka,” Fen stated. He pinned Falcon with a steely gaze. “It’s imperative I remain Lycan to those in this area. The elite hunters are on their way. A man by the name of Zev is staying at the inn. He’s the scout sent out ahead of the hunters. To do that, he has to be the elite of the elite. Believe me, I saw him in action, and he’s even better than I could describe. They’re hunting their own killers just as we hunt ours.”

“Why would you want them to think you’re Lycan rather than Carpathian?” Gregori asked. He ignored the fact that Jacques hadn’t waited to get his permission to heal his wounds.

Fen shrugged. “Lycans do not tolerate a mix between Lycan and Carpathian. They believe once they turn vampire, they are far too destructive and too difficult to kill. I have no idea how Carpathians weigh in on the issue.”

Gregori frowned at him. “I have never really seen or heard of a Lycan/Carpathian cross until MaryAnn and Manolito De La Cruz sent us word that she was Lycan and their blood mixed rather than one taking over the other. Is there some reason why we should have a problem with a Lycan/Carpathian cross? We’ve always been friends with the Lycan and vice versa. Carpathians and vampires are not the same, they know that.”

“Master vampires are extraordinarily difficult to kill,” Fen said. Already the influx of Falcon’s blood and the healing the Carpathian had done had given him more strength, but he was utterly exhausted. He needed to go to ground. And he needed to get Tatijana to ground. “A vampire/wolf cross is a hundred times that difficult. The destruction and damage, the savagery of their kills is also a hundred times more. They are rare to come across, so few hunters know how to kill them.”

“But you do,” Gregori stated.

Fen sighed. “Knowing isn’t always enough, as you well know, hunter.”

“Gregori,” Jacques interrupted gently. “All three of you need to go to ground. Perhaps this discussion would better take place in my brother’s home at a later time.”

Gregori nodded his head. “Forgive me, Fenris, you do need to take Tatijana, who is clearly your lifemate, and go to ground.”

“I thank you for coming to our aid. I didn’t know about Abel at the time I tracked them here. And I only suspected Bardolf’s involvement with the rogue pack when I crossed their path and began tracking them. Also”—he frowned—“the pack is much larger than we first thought.”

Gregori stood up slowly, his body still reluctant to work properly after the terrible savagery of the rogue pack attack. “Please come to Mikhail’s home on your first rising to give us more information. We’d be grateful.”

Fen sighed. By rights, if he met the prince, he should swear fidelity, but he had to think like a Lycan. Be a Lycan. And the cycle of the full moon was starting. If he crossed paths with Zev, or his elite hunters, they would kill him and ask questions later. Life had gotten far more complicated.

The Carpathians were silent, waiting his decision. In the end, he simply nodded and took to the air, Tatijana in his arms. He made certain no one was following him before he circled around to the spot where he’d left his brother. He opened the earth above Dimitri—better to guard him—and settled in with Tatijana. Above him the soil poured in, covering them both. Leaves and debris swirled above their resting place and fell softly, naturally, covering the area as if it had never been disturbed.
Chapter 6

Fen woke three risings beneath the earth, still sore, feeling bruised and battered, but he left Tatijana and Dimitri to find sustenance for them. He’d reassured Branislava each rising that Tatijana was mending well and would come to her as soon as she was properly healed.

He was well aware on his third night that he was now in the most perilous time where any Lycan would know immediately he wasn’t wholly one of them. He took care to conceal himself. As a rule, during this time, he stayed in the ground, avoiding any possible confrontation, but he didn’t have that luxury—and he knew the elite team would have joined Zev by this time.

He was a little surprised that, although it had been centuries for him, the Carpathian Mountains still felt like a home to him. He had traveled throughout the world, rather than remaining in one place, so he’d never truly found another environment to call home. The soil was extraordinary, and he’d forgotten what that mineral rich loam could feel like. Still . . .

He was worried about Dimitri. Dimitri’s belly wasn’t healing as well as he would have liked. He concealed himself in the fog, moving through the forest until he came upon the outskirts where a small farm had been carved out of the marsh. The farm backed up to a swampy area, but was neat and tidy. Stacks of hay were piled in the field farthest from the water. Horses tossed heads nervously and stomped hooves as he passed, the Lycan scent spooking them.

The farmer came out of his house, glancing toward the corral where the horses began to half rear and gallop around as if that would save them from a pack of wolves. The man disappeared back into his house and reemerged with a shotgun, looking over toward the nervous horses. Fen stayed in the mist as it circled through the field, swirling around the haystacks so they appeared as disembodied towers in the clouds.

The farmer stepped off the porch and again cautiously looked around. The horses trumpeted their distress over and over. Fen moved slower, allowing the wind to carry him above the corral. There was no way the horses would be in such a state over his scent. There was something else there, stalking the animals—or the farmer. There was no wolf pack closing in on the horses, or he would have seen them.

Fen kept his gaze on the farmer even as he moved cautiously in the midst of the dense fog creeping around him. Something moved along the ground. Something dark, twisted and ugly. The thing had crawled out of the swamp and dragged itself over the field, first toward the horses, then, when scenting the farmer, turned toward him.

Fen saw the disgusting creature huddled beside a boulder, positioning itself for the attack as the farmer drew near. Hastily, Fen shifted, to come striding out of the mist straight toward the owner of the farm. “Look out, man, step back,” he called, pushing compulsion into his tone.

Startled, the farmer did as Fen commanded. The twisted creature struck at him, fangs hooking his boot. It wiggled and growled, hissing its impatience. That small sliver of a shadow, a part of Bardolf, was still without a host it could influence to do evil. Animals could sustain its life, but certainly could never be used for the purpose Bardolf intended.

“What is it?” the man asked, shaking his boot and trying to knock the animal loose with the shotgun.

“A deadly creature,” Fen answered honestly. “A vampire’s familiar.” He knew most of the folks living around the village were superstitious—they believed in vampires—mostly because they’d had encounters with them even though the rest of the world made fun of them. They knew evil existed and they did their best to guard against it. The farmer made the sign of the cross and slammed his shotgun down on the wriggling creature.

Fen kicked it away from the farmer, produced a silver knife and plunged it into the ghastly creature, a cross between an eel and a snake. The creature screamed and writhed, black blood pouring from it. With it came the elusive shadow—a sliver of Bardolf. The sliver leapt toward the farmer, determined to live, to make its way back to its master.

Fen withdrew the knife from the twisted creature and threw it. The blade sliced cleanly through the shadow, pinning it to the ground. A great eye formed in the middle, staring at them with hatred and malice—a combination of Bardolf and Abel. The eye was evil, vertical rather than horizontal. The silver knife penetrated exactly in the middle of the eye. Black blood burst around the pupil and dripped on the ground, forming a dark pool.

The eye squealed, the pitch rising to a horrendous shriek as it wriggled and fought to become free. Fen swept the farmer behind him protectively, as the two vampires fought with concentrated strength to free the shadow. The eye convulsed, and a puff of black smoke burst the pupil and the light began to slowly fade as the shadow lost its life. With one last fading cry the shadow went limp and completely dark.

The farmer stepped around Fen and spit right in the middle of the pool of black blood before turning to face the hunter. He bowed awkwardly. “Thank you. You saved me. I’ve never had the honor of meeting one of our guardians.” He smiled, his eyes lighting up. “We hear the rumors you know, but we can go lifetimes without ever knowing if they’re true or not.”

“For your own safety,” Fen pointed out. “Stand way back. I have to incinerate this quickly. You don’t want infected vampire blood anywhere near your fields.”

Fen waited until the farmer moved off to a safe distance and he stared up at the sky, drawing in churning dark clouds. Thunder rolled ominously. Lightning forked, sizzling, spreading out, nearly blinding them with the bright flash of light. He felt the ground charging, the energy flowing through his body. He extended his arm toward the black blood, hideous creature and malevolent eye. Lightning leapt from ground to sky and back again. The stench nearly choked them both. Black tendrils of smoke rose and dissipated in the air, leaving a clean, fresh scent. The creature, eye and pool of blood incinerated as if they never had been.

Fen turned toward the stunned farmer. The man stood there with his mouth slightly open, curved in a half smile, clearly totally shocked and awed. He flashed Fen a quick grin.

“I know I will have to go to my grave with this memory secret, but I thank you for the experience.”

Bardolf and Abel had both seen the farmer. They might very well decide to attack and kill him, just to get back at Fen. At the very least, they would send members of the pack to kill his livestock as well as his family. Ordinarily there were few humans left with the knowledge of the Carpathian people, even there in the Carpathian Mountains.

“These vampires are extremely dangerous. They run with a pack of rogue werewolves they control. You and your family will be targeted. Is there a possibility of taking your family to safety and perhaps a neighbor would take your livestock?”

The farmer looked scared, but he shook his head. “I can send my wife and children to her mother’s, but I’ll have to run the farm myself. If I lose my livestock, or leave, we’ll lose everything.” He swept his arms out. “This is all we have. A man takes care of his family.”

Fen sighed. He could see the farmer’s point, but he wouldn’t be taking care of his family if they were all dead. “Send them away tonight. Pack light and tell them not to return until you send for them. Forgive me, but in order to safeguard you as much as possible, I will have to take your blood, and give you a very small amount of mine. You will be able to reach me in an emergency. Even if I am too far away, I can send aid to you. The choice is yours.”

If the farmer refused, Fen would have to allow him to be on his own. He would have no choice but to remove his memory of Fen’s visit, which would make him ten times more vulnerable.

The farmer bowed formally a second time, this time with a deeper bow. “It would be an honor.” He paused. “Does it hurt?”

Fen shook his head. “You won’t feel anything at all.”

The farmer stepped close, shotgun in his hands, exposing his throat. Fen gently removed the shotgun just as a precaution. He slipped into the man’s mind. Costin Eliade had grown up on a farm as had his father before him. He was a good man, worked hard, was devoted to his wife and family. He was frightened, but hiding it well, determined to do whatever it took to protect his family and farm.

Fen was both careful and respectful in the taking of the farmer’s blood. He took enough to feed and then soothed the man’s anxiety, keeping him from being aware as Fen gave him a small amount of his own blood. Any time he reached out to Costin, he would know where the farmer was, what he was thinking or doing. He would know the instant there was betrayal—or trouble. He put a strong barrier in his mind, a warning that if he tried to give up the information about the incident to anyone—including his wife—he would be forever on his own.

Costin’s intentions were admirable and he seemed a very honest man. Fen could find no hint of duplicity in his mind whatsoever. He meant to keep the Carpathian’s secrets. Fen made certain there was no evidence on the man or his clothes that blood had been taken before stepping away, although one hand remained on the farmer to steady him. Perhaps he’d taken a little more blood than necessary, because he had both Tatijana and Dimitri to provide for.

“Get your family out of here tonight. I’ll send aid to watch over your farm, both day and night until we locate and destroy the rogue pack and vampires. The moment that deed is done, I’ll let you know,” Fen assured the farmer.

The wind came in from the north, blowing with it a heavy fog. Gregori strode out of the dense mist, his shoulders wide, his silver eyes blazing. His sharp glance went from the farmer to the blackened ground and then to Fen. He raised a single eyebrow.

Fen managed to stop his grin just before it emerged. Of course Gregori would be suspicious of him. He was a stranger and with him had come two Sange rau and a rogue werewolf pack. Gregori didn’t want those enemies anywhere near the prince. No matter how severe his wounds, he wouldn’t trust his prince’s safety to anyone else.

Clearly Gregori was already scanning the farmer’s mind. He found the data needed and how Fen had destroyed the sliver of evil Bardolf and Abel had used to gain information. It was far easier and much more polite to pull the information from the farmer’s mind. He wasn’t questioning Fen or demanding why he would break a very hard rule, leaving memories of the Carpathian people in Costin Eliade.

He held out his hand to the farmer. “I’m Gregori. I understand you may need a little help protecting your farm.”

Costin nodded. “Very much so. They sent a familiar, and he killed it.” He gestured toward Fen.

“You’ll need protection during the day as well,” Fen said. “Rogue packs can be out in the sun. They’ll usually come at you at dusk or dawn, but in this case, the alpha will send them in during the part of the day our people are unable to protect you.”

“We’ve got a few people who can aid you,” Gregori assured.

They can never, under any circumstances, be here if the Sange rau show up. The combination of vampire and wolf is powerful beyond belief, and killing them is extremely hard. Fen sent the information on the common Carpathian mental path.

Gregori didn’t look at him or give it away they were in communication. I am certain you will be coming this rising to give us the information we need to destroy these vampires of mixed blood.

“I would be most grateful for anyone you can send,” Costin admitted.

“At night, you will be protected by a couple of us, but your real danger is during the day,” Fen said. “Should you have need, reach for me. Use your mind, even if you have to use your fear. I will hear you.”

Gregori turned slashing silver eyes on Fen. You can walk in the sunlight? There was no mistaking the edge of alarm in his voice. He didn’t exactly try to cover it up.

Fen barely inclined his head. If necessary, although it is not easy. He was not giving out any more information until Gregori shared more data with him. He turned to leave.

“Are you returning with me?” Gregori asked aloud.

Fen shook his head. “I need to attend my brother. He isn’t doing as well as I would like. In the first battle, he and Zev fought off the rogues in order to allow me to get to the Sange rau. His belly was ripped open, his wounds severe.”

Immediately he felt Gregori’s sympathy as the Carpathian fell into step with him. “Do you have need of a healer?”

“I don’t know yet. Allow me to examine him. Should I need your aid, I will call.” Fen was reluctant to disclose Dimitri and Tatijana’s resting place to anyone.

Gregori nodded. “I will tell Mikhail to expect you, unless, of course, you call for my aid.”

Fen studied Gregori’s face. He was pale, with lines etched deep. He wasn’t completely healed from the battle, yet he had come himself to ensure the prince was safe. Fen’s respect for him went up another notch.

“Thank you. Should Dimitri require your skills, I will call. I’ll come to speak to the prince as soon as I can.”

Should Gregori have to aid him in healing his brother, Fen would move Dimitri just as a precaution. Gregori would discover Dimitri’s blood was different. How could he not if he entered the body to heal it? Dimitri was too vulnerable, and with the elite hunters either drawing close, or already there, both Fen and Dimitri were already at great risk. Fen preferred not to take chances with his brother’s life.

As if reading his mind, Gregori touched his arm to slow him down. “There are six strangers in the village. All of them met with the man you call Zev. They’re all staying at the inn. They look . . . tough.”

Fen nodded. “They are best left alone. I cannot be anywhere near them over the next few risings.”

Gregori frowned. “This has to do with your Carpathian blood mixed with their Lycan blood?” He made it more of a question than a statement.

Fen shrugged. “When you first came upon the battle, were you certain I was Carpathian?”

“No,” Gregori admitted.

Fen knew that was most likely the reason Gregori remained suspicious of him.

“It is the same with the Lycans. Until the week of the full moon, they cannot detect me, but during this phase, they know exactly what I am. They call a vampire/wolf cross a Sange rau and they do not distinguish between that monster and me.”

“The strangers who have come to our village?”

“They are the elite of the Lycans. Their best hunters with superior speed and gifts. Zev is their true alpha. They have a leader, but all of them answer to him. They were summoned to hunt and destroy the rogue pack, just as we send our hunters out to kill the vampire. Zev is aware that there is one Sange rau running the pack. He doesn’t yet know about the second.”

“They’ll need the information to successfully hunt them,” Gregori pointed out.

Fen nodded. “I cannot deliver it to them, at least not for a few more risings. You will have to find another way.” He turned his face toward the forest. His unease had been growing. “I need to get to my brother.”