Dark Lycan (Carpathian)

As she approached the outskirts of the village, she felt the disturbance almost immediately. The scent of blood was overpowering. She shifted into her dragon form flying high enough, she thought, to keep any rogue from leaping on her as she circled the battle scene.

She spotted Zev in the middle of what looked like twenty werewolves. He was whirling around in a circle, his silver sword crimson red, his long hair flying as he cut a path to a single dwelling that appeared under siege. His long coat flared out as he spun, the sword never stopping, his boots placed perfectly and fluidly as if he was dancing, not in deadly peril. He seemed to flow, confidence in every line of his body. He looked almost beautiful there in the early morning light. Had it not been for the blood spraying through the air, she would have thought she was watching a ballet.

Around the back of the house, four others fought with swords and silver stakes, while another was on the rooftop of the house. That was a woman, and her form was every bit as good as her male counterparts. A sixth Lycan was down in the corner of the yard, two rogues tearing at him. Two Carpathian women were fighting their way to him.

Use the silver stakes, Tatijana advised the woman with thick dark hair who slammed her fist into a werewolf’s face, driving him back and off her. Tatijana was amazed at the woman. Clearly Carpathian, she was used to fighting vampires, it showed in every line of her body. Women rarely fought the undead, not like this woman. Tatijana wanted to meet her immediately.

The clouds above had gone black and lightning veined the one directly over the house. Destiny Von Shrieder glanced up to make certain the blue dragon was out of harm’s way. Dragonseeker, I’m about to bring down the lightning.

Tatijana circled back around, giving the dark-haired woman plenty of room. From her vantage point she could see the fierce fighting in the front of the house where Zev fought alone. Out of the house came two men. She recognized both of them. Gary Jansen and Jubal Sanders rushed without hesitation into the mass of werewolves attacking Zev. Gary shot a crossbow with silver arrows very accurately, firing rapidly while Jubal used some strange weapon she’d never seen before.

The two humans were fast and confident, and had obviously seen battle before. The werewolves outnumbered them and were extremely fast, ducking the flashing sword Zev wielded and using the house itself as a springboard to leap onto their backs in an effort to take them to the ground. Zev seemed to be directing the two men in their efforts, but their constant movement prevented her from aiding them. She couldn’t flame the werewolves without harming the defenders.

The rogues were extremely aggressive. One lit a torch and flung it at the house. Zev cut him down, but two wolves waiting their moment leapt from the roof and landed squarely on his shoulders, their combined weight driving him to the ground. Immediately the rogues surrounded the fallen Lycan, determined to kill him fast.

Gary hit one of the wolves in the head with a silver arrow, and then smashed another out of his way with the crossbow as he ran toward Zev.

“Go, go, keep going,” Jubal called out. “I’ll cover you.”

The wolves leapt on Zev, tearing at him, biting great chunks of flesh from him. One very aggressive rogue went for the kill, going for Zev’s throat, while the others seemed determined to eat him alive. Zev fought back, using silver stakes and a shorter knife, but the rogues quickly pinned him with their numbers and weight.

A wolf managed to claw Gary’s arm as he raced past, leaving four long bloody furrows. Gary didn’t slow down or falter. He ran through the double line of wolves determined to get to Zev before the rogues killed him. The wolf got a second hold on him, spinning him around. Gary stabbed an arrow deep into the wolf’s thigh and broke free, jumping over a downed werewolf and putting on a burst of speed.

He’d broken through the double circle of rogues surrounding the elite hunter and now they were between him and the house.

Jubal let loose with the weapon on his wrist, a strange spinning very sharp tool. The edges of each of the four blades must have been tipped with silver because as the spinning blades struck a wolf, cutting through his arm, the veins in his body seemed to grow rigid and turn color on his skin.

Gary fired off two more arrows, downing two of the wolves in a fighting frenzy over Zev. “Can you get up?” he yelled.

Zev slammed a silver stake into the leg of the wolf pinning him down while the second rogue tore at his belly, determined to rip it open and yank out the insides. Zev threw himself away from the wolf, rather than covering his belly, sacrificing his body by giving the rogue time to rip him open, but giving himself the room to swing his sword, lopping off the wolf’s head.

Blood spurted from Zev’s belly and the wolves behind them seemed to go into a frenzy the moment they scented the weakness in the elite hunter. The headless wolf fell across Zev in a deliberate attempt to pin him to the ground as well as to protect his own heart from being staked.

Gary yanked the body away from Zev, slamming a patch over the deep laceration in Zev’s belly. Clearly the Carpathians were more prepared this time for the way the rogues fought. He followed the body of the headless wolf down to the ground, driving an arrow through the heart, using sheer strength fed by adrenaline.

The moment he bent over to punch the arrow deep, a rogue slammed into Gary’s back, driving him away from Zev and deeper into the front yard. The circle of wolves howled their approval and rushed the two men cutting them off from the house. Now that the three men were separated it would be easier to pick them off.

Zev staggered to his feet, found his sword still in his hand and was already in motion, flowing through the yard toward Gary, while Jubal fought with his strange weapon as well as a silver machete.

Tatijana saw Gary go down under the weight of several wolves and she dove fast, the dragon streaking down out of the sky, her touch delicate in spite of her size and speed. She blew a steady stream of flame across the werewolves’ backs as they bent, ripping, biting and tearing at Gary’s body. Zev swore—she heard him over the howling growls and screams of the burned rogues—as he fought his way toward Gary.

The rogues whose backs had been burned by Tatijana leapt away from the downed man, looking to the sky, more angry than hurt. She tried to pull up fast, knowing the giant leaps they were capable of. One leapt from ground to fence and then was nearly on her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Tatijana saw the dark-haired woman run with long, confident strides over the rooftop and leap to intercept the rogue in midair. She held a knife in one hand and a silver stake in the other. The werewolf and woman slammed into one another hard, the momentum helping to bury the stake deep in the chest of the wolf. He howled, falling, reaching for her, and the woman simply dissolved in the air.

Who are you? Tatijana asked as her dragon streaked for the clouds. And thanks, I’ve had my belly ripped open already by one. It’s no fun. I’m Tatijana.

Of course. Clearly she’d heard of Tatijana and Branislava. I’m Destiny, lifemate to Nicolae Von Shrieder.

Tatijana had met Vikirnoff Von Shrieder and his lifemate, Natalya. Natalya was related to Tatijana—she was Razvan’s sister and a Dragonseeker as well. She guessed Vikirnoff and Nicolae were brothers. Where one was, the other probably wasn’t far behind. She was grateful to see a woman like Destiny joining aggressively in the battle. Tatijana wasn’t a woman to stand by and let others do the fighting if it was necessary. She didn’t know a lot about the policies of the Carpathian people, but it had been impossible over the last two years when others brought blood to Branislava and to her not to become familiar with a few of them.

Can you tell how bad Gary is? From her vantage point, Tatijana’s dragon could usually see far better than any human or Carpathian, but there were so many wolves fighting around him, she couldn’t get a clear look at him.

I’m trying to get to him now, Destiny confirmed. These things are fast. If the Lycans hadn’t joined the fight, we’d be in real trouble. We only had a couple of men here to help defend the children. They hit us only a few minutes ago, but the casualties are high. If it wasn’t for the Lycans, especially the one they call Zev, we’d have a few losses.

They hit the farm at the same time and they targeted Gregori, Tatijana informed her.

Her dragon made another circle high above the combat zone. The fighting was furious in the front, with only Destiny, Zev, Gary and Jubal trying to combat the number of wolves. In the back, there were six Lycans battling a larger force of rogues.

Is Mikhail’s son in the house? Gregori’s daughters? Tatijana was worried the sheer number of rogues would overrun the small defenses they had.

No. Sara’s children. Sara is on bed rest and Gabrielle is there with her. Gabrielle and Shea are in the house to be the last line of defense for the children.

Vikirnoff and Natalya? They had to be somewhere close and yet they weren’t in the middle of the fray. Tatijana couldn’t imagine either of them sitting out a battle.

Destiny ducked under one of the beasts, slipped past another and got to Gary. She plunged a silver stake through the back of the wolf tearing at Gary’s insides. Crouching, she got an arm around his back. He was a mess, his belly ripped open and great chunks of flesh removed from his chest. Once the wolves got a victim down, they tore him apart. Gary made an effort to rise, but he had to clamp both hands over his open belly, and he’d lost so much blood so fast that he was weak. The blood made him slippery and trying to lift him was impossible. The patch didn’t begin to cover the mess.

“Come on,” Destiny hissed. “We’re not out of trouble here.”

They were ringed by snarling wolves. She was bleeding in dozens of places. Zev was in nearly as bad a shape as Gary, and Jubal couldn’t get past the wall of werewolves to get to them.

“Get out of here,” Gary urged. “You can make it through without me.”

“That’s not an option.” Destiny looked to the sky. Tatijana, flame these bastards. I’ve had enough of them. She raised her voice. “Jubal, Zev take cover now!”

With that, completely trusting Tatijana to do as she asked, she took Gary back to the ground. Before she could cover him, he was covering her, hands over her head, his body on hers, pinning her down.

“You’re crazy, you know that,” he whispered in her ear, laughter in his voice in spite of the pain he had to be in.

Without hesitation, both Jubal and Zev hit the ground. Jubal, still close to the porch, managed to roll partially beneath it. Zev went down where he was trusting several wolves would follow him to the ground, which they did, effectively covering his body.

The world around them erupted into flame as the dragon blasted out of the clouds, neck extended, wings creating a windstorm to help fan the white-hot flames as they burst in a steady stream from the dragon’s gaping maw to the ground below. Rogues, half wolf, half man, found fur and hair on fire, and dropped, rolling, desperate to try to put it out.

The temperature in the front yard went from crisp and cold to instant searing heat. The roar of the flames thundered in their ears. The wind rose to a fever pitch as the great wings fanned those flames so that they jumped from one rogue to the next. She hovered overhead another moment or two after she quit spraying fire, her enormous wings acting like bellows and then with a loud trumpet, she once more gained altitude.

“Now, now,” Destiny hissed. “This is our chance.”

Zev leapt to his feet and began slamming home silver stakes, heedless of the flames, uncaring of any injury to himself. Jubal rolled out from under the porch and followed his example, staking as many as possible.

“Use the sword,” Zev called out, tossing his sword to Jubal. “Any that’s been staked, sever the head.”

Jubal caught the sword easily with one hand and swung at the head of a rogue charging at him who had remained relatively unscathed.

Gary made a huge effort and rolled off of Destiny, coming up to his knees, careful to keep his hands over his ripped belly. The rogues were adept at their chosen fighting method—to incapacitate their opponent by eviscerating them. It took only seconds. Gary had saved Zev, but he hadn’t escaped the pack and their relentless, tireless thirst for blood and the kill.

Destiny didn’t think any of them had escaped. Every Carpathian and Lycan had very bad wounds. Once again she got her arm around Gary. He made a valiant effort and struggled to his feet, going completely pale, black blood pouring from his gut. She knew those signs, and they weren’t good. Gary obviously knew it as well, but he said nothing, breathing deep to try to make it through the burning yard, back to the house.

Gregori. We have great need, Destiny called to their healer on the common telepathic path. Gary won’t live out the hour if you cannot make it to us. No other has the skill to save him, not even Shea. She did not say that she doubted even Gregori could save him, but it was in her mind and he would know.

Zev moved with astonishing speed, so efficient and skilled at killing the rogues, Tatijana from above couldn’t help but watch him. He flowed through the yard, making his way toward Destiny and Gary, even as he cut down numerous wolves. Those wolves rolling to put the flames out were in danger from both Zev and Jubal. Jubal wasn’t waiting for the stakes—he sliced through bodies and then staked them as he went.

Tatijana’s dragon had turned the tide in the front yard. She circled back for another view of the furious fighting in the backyard. The wounds were severe. The largest group of wolves had attacked the backyard, probably because there was more cover, trees, brush and even a fence the wolves could use as springboards.

Zev, Gary and Jubal had taken on the entire pack in the front, while most of the Lycan elite hunters were defending the back. Destiny clearly floated between, lending her skills to either side, depending on who needed her the most.

Tatijana studied the scene below her, trying to find where she could come to the aid of the Lycans. The Carpathian woman was small, but she was a powerhouse, mixing it up with wolves, blood streaking her body. Some of the blood belonged to the enemy, but clearly she’d been bitten several times and those claws tore open great lacerations.

Tatijana couldn’t communicate with the Lycans, but she could with the Carpathian woman. This was Joie Trigovise, Traian’s lifemate and Jubal’s sister. Several times it had been Joie who had given blood to both Tatijana and Branislava as they healed their minds and bodies in the rich soil of the Carpathian Mountains.

Joie had a cap of thick glossy dark brown hair. Her features were strikingly beautiful, yet at times she blended in with her surroundings, so, like now, it was difficult to keep an eye on her.

If there is a way to get all the Lycans under shelter, I could flame the werewolves, Tatijana offered. It certainly turned the tide in the front.

Joie didn’t answer right away. She rolled beneath a wolf, slashing at the back of his knees as she gained the back porch, where it looked as if six or seven werewolves were tearing at the back door.

Tatijana heard a child scream, a high-pitched frightened sound and then another younger one began to cry. The pitch of the roof over the back porch prevented her from seeing exactly what was going on or how close the wolves were to breaking into the house, but the cries of the children made her heart pound and spurred her into action.

The female Lycan leapt the wooden railing of the house. “Over there.” She indicated the corner of the porch where three more of the rogues were rushing to gain access.

Her name is Daciana. She’s a heck of a fighter, Joie informed Tatijana as she angled her approach to intercept the three wolves hoping to break into the house with their other pack members.

Are they into the house already? If they were, it was time to let her dragon form go and get into the fray with Joie, Daciana and the other Lycans. The werewolf pack couldn’t be allowed to breach the house and get to the children.

Tatijana knew Shea, Jacques’s lifemate, was inside. She was a doctor, a healer, not a fighter, but she would defend the children. Joie’s sister Gabrielle was in the house as well. She was a researcher, not someone who engaged in battles, but she would fight fiercely to protect the children. Sara had to be inside, Falcon’s lifemate. They had adopted these children and Sara was pregnant with a child. She’d miscarried her first pregnancy and was on bed rest with this one, but no doubt she would fight with the others in spite of everything.

Stay in the sky, Joie said, clearly reading her concerns. “Daciana, we’ve got a dragon on our side. If we can drive these wolves back into the open and get our people under shelter, Tatijana will flame them.”

Daciana glanced upward toward the dragon circling above them. As she did, one of the werewolves leapt from the railing of the porch up to the roof and launched himself skyward at the exposed underbelly of the dragon.

Oh no you don’t. Tatijana hissed the words in her mind.

She’d had her belly ripped open once and wasn’t about to have it happen again. As the wolf rose, his claws outstretched, she swung her neck around, using her wedged-shaped head as a bat to knock him away from her. He sailed end over end into the canopy of the trees several yards away from the house. He landed hard, snarling, raging and grasping at the branches to keep from falling.

He yelled threats at her, shook his fist and began climbing down fast as she swooped over his head. Tatijana knew it was reckless of her, but even inside the dragon’s body, she felt the rush of adrenaline. The little scream of a child, the sound of crying, had gotten to her as the blood and wounds hadn’t.

The werewolf reversed direction with astonishing speed. She didn’t even see him, just the furious shaking of the branches as he rushed back up the tree to the very top of the canopy and flung himself at her a second time. His claws hooked in the dragon’s softer belly just as Zev came over the top of the roof. Tatijana could see the Lycan moving as if he didn’t have a hundred deep lacerations, as if his belly hadn’t been sliced open. He flowed over the peaked roof, his eyes nearly glowing, the metallic gray color so intense they could have been gems.

He never took his gaze from the rogue attacking her, never looked down to make certain his footing on the pitched roof was solid. His eyes were penetrating, piercing, totally intimidating and unblinking, fixed on his prey. He launched the silver stake. It spun through the early morning light, gleaming, spiraling, rocketing toward its target.

Zev continued running over the roof even as he threw the stake, down the other side and then dropping into the backyard. He landed in a crouch right in the middle of the swarm of werewolves, sword in hand, already drawing another stake from his belt.

The stake spinning through the air flew straight and true, slamming deep into the chest of the rogue clawing at the dragon’s soft underbelly, driving through the heart. The wolf went rigid, dropping like a stone from the sky. Droplets of blood followed him down from where he’d torn the dragon open.

Zev fought his way through the wall of werewolves to get to two of his hunters who were fighting back to back, ringed by the rogues. Both were slashed, bitten and wounded, but neither wavered for an instant. Zev joined them.

“Work your way back to the house,” Daciana called to them.

Daciana and Joie cut between the wolves and the back door, each coming in from a different side, presenting a united front and a barrier to the entrance of the house. Destiny burst out of the back door, joining them. She was covered in blood.

Joie frowned. “You all right?”

“It’s mostly Gary’s. He’s in bad shape. I called in Gregori, but I doubt he’ll get here in time.” Destiny’s voice was grim. “Shea’s doing what she can.”

The wolf directly in front of her leapt over her, crashing into a window, shattering the glass. A child’s wail came from somewhere inside. Daciana leapt after the rogue, landing on his back, driving him down to the ground. He was strong, pushing himself up fast with both hands and legs, trying to shake her off of him.

“To the house,” Zev directed his hunters.

“Lykaon is down,” Daciana yelled. “North corner.”

Zev and the two other hunters with him aggressively began fighting their way to their fallen brethren. The other two Lycans both made their way toward the corner as well. Lykaon was on the ground, more dead than alive.

Tatijana could see blood spraying into the air and three wolves tearing at the body. Frustrated, she circled again. If the Lycans would just get to the porch, she knew she could lay down a stream of flames that would take the fight out of the remaining wolves. As hard as they fought, the pack kept the hunters back from their downed comrade.

Tatijana couldn’t stand it. She wasn’t going to sit up safe in the sky while one of the Lycan fighters was being torn apart or eaten alive right under her nose. She dove fast, folding her wings close to her body and sped toward the yard. Trees were close and she was forced to shift to tiny molecules and streak down to the fallen Lycan.

She shifted again just before she landed, her dragon breathing a steady stream of red-orange flames to clear out the wolves as she hovered just above Lykaon. The wolves tearing at him caught fire. The scent of burnt flesh and fur filled the air.

Tatijana was extremely vulnerable on the ground. The moment the wolves were off the body, she gathered the fallen warrior in her front talons and took to the air with him. A dozen rogues leapt at her. Most hit her scales and dropped off, but one flung himself onto her back and sank teeth into her neck—or tried to—the spikes and scales prevented him from harming her.

She had to work hard to get airborne with the injured Lycan in her talons and the wolf on her back. Two more tried to grip her tail, but she thrashed it hard and they fell away. Again, it was Zev who came to her aid. He threw a knife, and just like the stake, the throw was done with deadly accuracy. The wolf on her back grunted hard and fell away, leaving her to rise easily. She circled, watching for her chance as the Lycans fought their way to the porch.

With so many defenders, the few werewolves who had tried to gain entrance into the house abandoned the small confines for the yard. Tatijana tucked Lykaon close to her body and once more dove, spraying a steady stream of flames through the pack, setting most on fire. Just as in the front yard, the burning wolves retreated, rolling to try to put out flames while the hunters emerged and did their best to destroy as many as possible.

Tatijana landed in the front yard, grateful that Daciana and Destiny ran to take the fallen Lycan from her. She was weak, exhausted and bleeding. The moment she shifted, her knees nearly gave out.

Destiny glanced at her over her shoulder while she and Daciana half carried Lykaon toward the house. “You all right? Can you make it?”

Tatijana nodded. The werewolves were on the run, but it wasn’t safe. Nearly every defender had been wounded, many of them seriously. She knew many members of the rogue pack would linger to try to get in as many kills as possible. She forced her shaky legs to work and made it to the porch just as Gregori and Jacques emerged, startling her. Jacques immediately reached his arm out her to steady her.

Both men looked as if they’d been in a war zone. They were covered in wounds and blood, Gregori especially. She couldn’t see how he could still be standing. He had to be in pain, but there was only purpose etched into his face.

Gregori flung open the door to the house. “Where is he?”

The wounded lay, sat or stood waiting for Shea’s attention. Joie, Destiny and Daciana began to help her attend them. Shea looked up the moment they entered. Jacques helped Tatijana to a chair and went immediately to his lifemate.

“Are you all right?” Zev asked.

Tatijana nodded. “I lost a little blood. I’m not nearly as bad as the rest of you.”

“We got our asses handed to us,” Zev said with a sigh. “This pack is very large. Too large. It doesn’t make sense.” He looked around the room. “Where’s Fen?”

Tatijana let out her breath slowly. “They hit us in three different locations. At first we thought just the farm, but then when we discovered the pack had been divided into thirds, we divided our forces. Fen has experience fighting them, so he went on to the third location.”

Zev nodded. “Makes sense.” He looked around at the wounded. “Where’s Gary? He saved my life and I wanted to thank him.”

There was a small pregnant silence. Shea looked at Gregori and shook her head. “I did what I could. He’s holding on to see you.”

Gregori strode into the room Shea indicated. It smelled of death and blood. Gabrielle, Joie’s sister, sat beside Gary, holding his hand. There were tears on her face. Gary was gray, pain edging every line.

His eyes met Gregori’s.

“You look like hell,” Gregori greeted.

Gary tried a smile that didn’t quite come off. “You look the same.” Even his voice was no longer his own, but a mere thread.

Gregori stood over Gary, his silver eyes nearly liquid. “You have accepted our way of life, my brother. You are jaguar, which means you can become one of us.”

Gary shook his head.

Gabrielle gasped. “I don’t understand. Why are you even hesitating? Gregori can save you this way.”

Gregori gently moved her away from the fallen man. He put his hand over Gary’s very gently. “He knows the human perspective will be lost once he becomes Carpathian and so far, that perspective has served us well.” He knelt beside Gary, leaning close. “I will do what I can, and give you my blood, but know this, you are my brother-kin. I do not lose kin easily. If I see this will not work, protest or not, I will convert you. Do you understand?”

Gary managed a nod. He closed his eyes and slipped into unconsciousness. Gregori sank to the floor beside him and quickly shed his body to begin the work of healing the man who had been more of a brother to him than his blood brothers.
Chapter 11

From his vantage point above the Dubrinsky home, Fen studied every detail carefully. There was a feel to the mountain that made him uncomfortable, but he couldn’t tell if it was an actual defense in place, a safeguard, or the Sange rau were already well ahead of him. He allowed his senses to flare out, reaching beyond the boundaries he’d always imposed on himself.

Being Sange rau could be dangerous, much more so the more often one used the incredible gifts. Arrogance and superiority were treacherous, insidious traits, threatening the very moral fiber of one’s beliefs. Without Tatijana to keep him grounded, Fen knew the things he had done and would do this day were inherently risky.

Carpathians were born of the earth. Most of their safeguards were woven from natural things and reinforced with spells from the mages when the two species had been close. There were always psychic footprints. No one could move or breathe without expending some energy, and Carpathians were very good at feeling or seeing it.

Lycans were born of the earth as well. Both species epitomized both ends of the spectrum. They were predators, fast and ferocious. They enjoyed the battle and both had a taste for blood. On the other hand, they were loyal and dedicated to their mates and children. Both species put honor and integrity high on their list of attributes. They were willing to sacrifice for the better of their species.

Both species embraced the night. Both read the wind. And both were gifted with tremendous powers. There had always been a balance. As many gifts that both species had, each had weaknesses. The Sange rau didn’t have such a balance and that could be a very bad thing.

Fen continued to scan the mountain behind the Dubrinsky home as well as the surrounding forest and clearing around it. He took his time, patient as always. Often in a battle, the first to move was the first to die. He was facing not one, but two Sange rau. It was often the little things that gave one an advantage. He knew from experience nature spoke to him if he just listened.

His connection to Mother Nature was stronger than ever and each small shift of the wind brought him information he might not have picked up on. Small nuances, but now they told such stories. There were ripples running over the ground leading to Mikhail Dubrinsky’s home. He could see them, as if they were tides ebbing and flowing in the sea.

Around the house itself, up and down the stone walls and even beyond to the mountain where the structure was built into it, thousands of symbols and patterns ran like an endless loop. It looked a bit like the code on a computer, moving fast and changing rapidly. It would be impossible for a vampire or a Carpathian or even a Lycan to read it that fast. But he was none of those things and neither was the enemy he was hunting. The Sange rau could process that fast.

Scattered throughout the ground surrounding the house from every direction, he spotted disturbances in the earth. He wasn’t certain whether he saw those because he had mixed blood and heightened senses, or if his connection to Mother Earth provided the information. Nevertheless, the traps were revealed to him and he had to believe they would be to his enemy as well.

Another small shift in the wind brought another scent he recognized instantly. Dimitri. Are you insane? You cannot come here. You should be in the earth, healing.

Little brothers were the very devil. Dimitri had always gone his own way, even as a child. He was stubborn and made up his own mind about things. It wasn’t that he ever argued. He was quiet about his stubbornness. He simply did what he thought was right.

Did you really think I’d let you come here alone and face these killing machines? Dimitri asked, taking the offensive, which was another trait Fen remembered from when his brother was a child.

Dimitri materialized out of the sky, right beside him. He looked pale, almost translucent, but as tough and as implacable as ever. When Dimitri made up his mind to do something, it took a miracle to change it.

“You never did have any sense,” Fen answered, but he was secretly proud of Dimitri. His brother was the type of warrior to find a way, no matter how injured, to come to his aid, especially when the battle looked hopeless. “You know we’ll be lucky to come out of this alive.”

“When has it been any other way?” Dimitri asked.

“They’re after the prince,” Fen pointed out. “This place is a death trap for vampires, but it isn’t going to stop either of the Sange rau. If I can see the traps and safeguards, they will be able to as well.”

Dimitri studied the ground below him. “Just how much of your blood is running in my veins?”

Fen frowned. “Why? Can you see the traps, too?”

“Not exactly. I know something’s there. And I feel the mountain’s off. Different. It feels like a living, breathing sentry to me.”

Fen pressed his fingers to his eyes. “I didn’t trust anyone else to heal you properly. I should have had Tatijana give you her blood. Mine is . . . tainted. Over the centuries, we’ve shared blood so many times . . .”

“Your blood is just fine,” Dimitri said. He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I’ve always known I would end up like you. Lycan and Carpathian. It’s meant to be. I run with the wolves. I understand them. I always have.”

“The Lycans will condemn you to death. You know I have to go to ground each full moon to avoid detection. And what of your lifemate?” Fen turned to look his brother in the eye. “That woman is the most powerful psychic I’ve ever encountered. She crossed a continent to heal you. I don’t know very many powerful ancients who can do that.”

Dimitri smiled for the first time. “She’s amazing.”

“Yet you haven’t claimed her.”

“Her father wants me to wait until she’s at least twenty-five.”

Fen raised an eyebrow and then turned back to studying the Dubrinsky stronghold for signs Abel and Bardolf had already unraveled the safeguards. He couldn’t imagine his brother living by anyone else’s rules. “And you’re abiding by that?”

“Skyler and I have an understanding. When she’s ready, she’ll let me know. If she isn’t twenty-five, well, hopefully her father and uncles will let me live.” There was only the slightest trace of humor in Dimitri’s voice. “She was adopted by Francesca and Gabriel Daratrazanoff.”

Fen swung around to stare at his brother in shock. “The legends? As in Gabriel and Lucian Daratrazanoff? They’re alive? And Gabriel is her father?”

“That would be the one.”

“Any chance he’s not all that fond of her?” Fen asked.

“He adores her.”

“Of course he does.” In spite of the perilous situation they were in, Fen found himself grinning. “You shouldn’t worry about this little fight we’re about to enter, because your woman’s daddy is going to tear you limb from limb.”

“Don’t sound so pleased.” Dimitri nudged him. “You’re my brother. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“Maybe your only chance is to become fully Sange rau,” Fen said, half meaning it. He nodded toward the eastern side of the mountain behind the Dubrinsky’s house. “Do you see that? A shadow slipping along the cracks. He’s moving fast, too, but staying in the crevices and cracks. That’s Bardolf. So where’s Abel?”

“Someone’s just emerging out of the forest. It looks like Gregori’s here to defend Mikhail,” Dimitri announced. “Over there, he’s stopped and is looking around. The man has always been careful when it comes to Mikhail’s protection. I’m not surprised he’s here.”

Fen didn’t answer. He turned his attention to Gregori and the minefield in front of him. Gregori was a striking figure in anyone’s war. Tall, with broad shoulders and a thick muscular chest, with his long black hair drawn back and his strange silver eyes, he looked a frightening figure with his immaculate clothes and his confident air.

Where was Abel? Would the Sange rau allow Mikhail’s guardian to remain unharmed? Mikhail and Gregori had a powerful bond. Together they could destroy nearly any enemy, even a mixed blood if they were allowed the time to initiate their complete sovereignty together. Abel would know that and he would move heaven and earth to stop Gregori.

Gregori walked toward the house. Except he didn’t walk, he floated, avoiding the traps on the ground. He veered away from the structure and advanced toward the mountain the back of the house was built into. That had to be where Mikhail was. A mountain could provide all kinds of securities and ways to escape. Gregori went straight to the entrance and began the complicated unraveling of the safeguards so he could enter.

Fen found himself frowning as he shifted his gaze to the shadowy figure of Bardolf a few hundred feet above Gregori. He should have been leaping on the guardian, but instead, he was still keeping to the cracks and crevices as he made his way down.

Something’s not right, Dimitri, he whispered into his brother’s mind.

Alarm thundered in his very blood. He could hear it roaring in his ears. His heart beat even harder. He knew something was wrong.

Other than the shadow you’ve already spotted, everything is as it should be. There was a question in Dimitri’s tone. If Fen said something was off, he believed him, he just couldn’t see it.

It’s Gregori.

Dimitri narrowed his eyes and focused on the Carpathian. He looks fine to me.

Exactly. And he shouldn’t look fine. He was attacked at the farm. Viciously. Totally targeted by the pack. He’s torn up. No one, not even Gregori could recoup this fast.

So I’m looking at?

That has to be Abel. Fen caught his brother’s forearms in a tight grip. Bardolf is fast. You won’t be able to kill him, but do as much damage as fast as you can. Use everything you have in your arsenal and stay out of his reach. He’s not only vampire, but he’s werewolf. Stay alive, brother.

Dimitri gripped Fen hard. I expect to see you in one piece when this is over.

Fen couldn’t let himself think about his brother and how terribly injured he’d been. Dimitri was a grown man, an ancient warrior who had been in countless battles. He was courageous and he definitely was skilled. Fen had passed every bit of knowledge he had on the Sange rau to his brother in the hopes that would aid him should he ever have to fight one. Dimitri already had heightened senses, proving Fen had given him a good amount of mixed blood. Now it was up to fate.

Like we practiced. Exactly like we practiced. You know how to do this.

Dimitri nodded. Like we practiced.

Fen had to trust he’d prepared his brother for this day. He stepped off the cliff and shifted, his Carpathian/Lycan blood masking all energy as he streaked through the sky to drop down behind Abel just as the safeguards came down. Abel stepped cautiously into the entrance to the mountain. As he did, a Carpathian male came down the wide tunnel leading deeper under the mountain to greet the prince’s guardian.

“Gregori, I thought you were at the house healing Gary. We expected you’d stay with him.”

Gregori didn’t reply, but kept quickly striding toward the Carpathian.

Fen struck hard, driving his hand, silver stake firmly in his fist, through Abel’s back, seeking the heart. The Carpathian male raced down the corridor to come to Gregori’s aid.

Abel, using the enormous speed and strength of the Sange rau, leapt forward, dislodging Fen’s fist. He spun around and attacked, dropping the fa?ade of Gregori, aggressively slamming his fist into Fen’s chest. As he did, his muzzle grew and he clamped his teeth over Fen’s shoulder, the bite pressure enormous, tearing through muscle down to the bone.

Vikirnoff Von Shrieder was shocked by few things, but the monster attacking was no ordinary vampire. He’d gotten through intricate safeguards as if the locks weren’t even in place. He’d looked and smelled just like Gregori. Carpathians had such an acute sense of smell they could place one another by blood alone, and Vikirnoff would have sworn he had been talking to Gregori.

He’d never seen anything move as fast as the two men fighting in the corridor. He felt like he was watching a fight scene on television in fast-forward. Hands and feet, shifting, and moving, the two combatants slammed into the rock walls and hit the high ceiling with neither giving an inch. He couldn’t help. There was no way to get off a weapon, they were moving too fast.

Mikhail, are you seeing this? Vikirnoff had never been afraid in a fight, not even when facing a master vampire. He always figured he had even odds. He was a skilled fighter and had been battling for centuries, but he’d never in his life seen opponents like these.

I believe you are looking at the true Sange rau Fen told us of. Mikhail studied the two combatants. He was correct in saying we have never faced an enemy such as this one. Mikhail’s voice had little inflection in it. He was merely stating a truth.

Vikirnoff drew his bow and pulled out a silver arrow. All of them were armed against an attack by the rogue pack. He doubted he could get the arrow off where it could do any good, but just in case the monster got through Fen, he was determined to stand between it and the prince.

Mikhail, he had a perfect image of Gregori in every way. He even smelled like Gregori’s blood. And he blew through the safeguards as if they weren’t even there.

Clearly our safeguards are for the vampire and not this new enemy. Again, the prince’s tone was matter-of-fact. He had to have known that the Sange rau had come for him, but he seemed more interested in studying the way the creature fought. They are almost too fast for even our eyes to keep up with.

Natalya. Vikirnoff reached for his lifemate. She was in the corridor ahead, closer to the prince, waiting just in case something got past her lifemate and endangered the prince. Do not attempt to fight this creature if he gets past me.

If he gets past you that means you are no longer in this world, she answered. I will do my duty and defend my prince and join with you as soon as possible.

Neither of you will sacrifice your lives uselessly, Mikhail decreed. If he should get past Fen, fall back and let us see if any of our defenses work against him. The sun is climbing in the sky. Surely even the Sange rau will be affected as we are. After all, he is vampire, Mikhail reasoned.

The fight between Abel and Fen raged on. Neither seemed to get the upper hand and both bore terrible wounds, but that didn’t slow them down. Most vicious fights were over in a matter of minutes, but the two seemed to sustain the physical energy necessary to continue the battle indefinitely.

“Join me, Fenris Dalka. You can see we are the superior race. We can command the wolves and the Carpathian people alike. The humans will be our cattle. You will die here defending a species that should be extinct,” Abel proposed as they broke apart.

Blood ran in streams from both of them. Abel wiped at his chest and licked his fingers, smirking as he did so.

“Stalling isn’t a good idea, Abel. If you’re waiting for Bardolf to join you, you’ll be waiting a long time,” Fen said.

The smile faded from Abel’s face. His eyes turned wholly black. Fen didn’t wait for the attack, but launched himself fast, going low, sweeping the legs out from under the Sange rau. He stabbed down hard with a silver stake, missing the heart, but opening another hole in Abel’s chest. Blood poured out, hopefully weakening him more.

Abel rolled, his legs locking around Fen as he lifted up and slammed him down on the hard ground, trying to drive the air from his lungs. As he forced Fen into the ground, the hard rock beneath them rose in sharpened spikes. Fen grunted as he landed on his back, the spikes driving deep. Just that fast, the spikes dissolved, although the damage had been done to Fen’s back. Fen rolled up, punching his fist through Abel’s ribs. The snapping sound was audible.

As Fen regained his feet, Vikirnoff could see blood pouring from the deep punctures on his back. Just as he was certain he would lose so much blood that the vampire/wolf cross would have the advantage in spite of the broken ribs, the wounds in Fen’s back appeared to close and the blood stopped flowing.

Abel and Fen crashed together again, this time, Fen spinning Abel around to slam him face first into the side of the tunnel. The walls of the tunnel had grown thick crystals, thousands bursting out of the rock. The mountain shivered. The force Fen used to drive Abel into the wall was so enormous the crystals shattered into thousands of razor-sharp pieces.

Abel pushed back, slamming his head into Fen’s forehead. Fen staggered back, giving Abel room to turn. His face was a mask of hatred and blood. Fen looked cool and confident, no expression, not of anger or pain. They both moved with breathtaking speed, Fen firing several rapid punches into Abel’s face, driving the crystals deeper into the flesh so that Abel wore a mask of bloody gems.

The two combatants moved so fast Vikirnoff found himself standing a few yards away, his bow lowered and his mouth opened. Not only were they blurred, but they were also changing the landscape around them into weapons so fast he could barely catch it all. As fast as one would create a weapon, the other would neutralize it.

Vikirnoff, fall back. You and Natalya join me.

Vikirnoff hesitated. He had one purpose in that moment—to protect his prince. He had been assigned a position by the prince’s primary guardian . . .

Now. You can both serve me best from behind our safeguards.

There was pure command in Mikhail’s tone. Vikirnoff abandoned his position and hurriedly made his way down the corridor to the prince. Natalya joined him. Both could still see the furious fighting taking place.

Mikhail brought down the last and most intricate of their safeguards to allow Natalya and Vikirnoff through. Immediately he resurrected them again, all the while watching the two Sange raus’ furious battle.

“Fen is slowly moving his opponent backward. It’s slow,” Mikhail pointed out, “but clearly he’s trying to get him out from under the mountain. There’s a disturbance outside as well. I can feel a second battle taking place.”

“The man fighting with Fen is Abel, an ancient. I believe he’s connected to your family in some way,” Vikirnoff said. “It took a few minutes to place him.”

The mountain shivered again as Fen and Abel crashed into the ceiling. Great spikes of spun silver burst from the walls, burning into Abel’s body from every direction. Abel screamed with pain. Fen was on him instantly, driving one of the stakes deep into the chest by using his fist. He grabbed Abel’s shoulders and hurled him out of the corridor, back into the early morning sunlight.

“I can see why the Lycans have forbidden the cross of blood between Lycan and Carpathian,” Mikhail mused. “There seems to be no stopping them. Abel didn’t slow down, not even when he was pierced with silver stakes.”

“I feel like we should be trying to help Fen,” Vikirnoff said. “But I’m not certain how we can go to his aid.”

For the first time he knew what Mikhail, as the prince of their people, must feel like when he couldn’t go out and join in a fight. Carpathians were warriors. It wasn’t in their nature to sit back and watch another battle, especially if that person was one of their own. He had never considered how Mikhail must feel when he was relegated to the sidelines, always having his people standing between him and danger.

Vikirnoff knew he was the prince’s last protection, but still, everything in his body, mind and very soul needed to be out there helping Fen. He felt cowardly, crouched behind a safeguard while another hunter was outside alone with a killing machine.

“You’d just be in his way,” Mikhail pointed out, reading his mind. “He can’t look after you and fight this monster. Besides, it appears as if Fen is a killing machine as well.”

Vikirnoff nodded. Natalya moved up beside him, close, not touching, but offering him comfort, fully aware of his frustration. He was grateful to her. He couldn’t help feeling better when she was near. “Still, there should be something we can do for him.”

“He’ll need blood,” Mikhail pointed out. “The patches he applies when Abel tears him open appear to be temporary.”

“Gregori needs to see this.”

“He’s busy at the moment trying to make certain we don’t lose Gary, but I’m passing on to him everything about the Sange rau that we observe.”

Fen was aware of the unease of his fellow Carpathians, but grateful that they used good sense not to join in the battle. He couldn’t watch out for them and anticipate Abel’s moves and react at the same time. As it was, part of him was engaged in the battle taking place outside.

Overhead, the clear early morning rays were gone, replaced by a ferocious storm. Black clouds churned and roiled overhead, a giant cauldron of boiling nature. White lightning laced the edges of the clouds, flashing and sparking, great forks veining each of the dark clouds. Few were better than Dimitri at creating the ultimate storm.

A whip of lightning lashed the mountainside, hitting directly into a thin crack. Sparks rose up, and Bardolf yelped. He sprang into the air, furious that Dimitri had struck him again with the whip of lightning. Once was bad enough, but the Carpathian hunter was playing a game of hit and run. Dimitri had planned for the anger. Fen had counseled him that Bardolf didn’t have the control Abel did.

I can see why you serve a master, Dimitri taunted.

He shifted into the form of a smaller hawk, streaking through the branches of the high canopy in the forest, making certain to stay close to the edge of the meadow, certain Bardolf had been ordered to stay close to the tunnel to keep any Carpathian from interfering.

I serve no master. Bardolf blasted into the sky after the small hawk. He chose the form of a great harpy eagle, talons as large as bear claws. He was fast, very fast and he caught up fairly quickly.

Dimitri and Fen had played many war games over the last few centuries, and Dimitri used the same tactics that had been successful on his brother. He lengthened the branches, and this time changed the leaves and needles to spikes. The smaller hawk was able to maneuver through the dense foliage, but the larger eagle crashed into the lengthening branches, the spikes driving into the body and wings of the bird.

A little slow for a Sange rau, aren’t you? Dimitri taunted.

Vampires and werewolves definitely had egos. Getting Bardolf angry was a good tactic in that if he was mad, he might make mistakes. Dimitri had been trained for centuries in fighting the Sange rau. The practice sessions with Fen might have been games, but he’d learned what worked and what didn’t. He wasn’t as fast, but his tricks would work once, just enough to hurt his opponent and hopefully slow him down.

Bardolf’s echoing cry reverberated through the trees as the body of the eagle tumbled, bleeding from several wounds. Feathers floated to the ground, but Bardolf recovered midair, shifting to a smaller owl and streaking toward Dimitri once more.

Dimitri waited until he was very close and blasted him with a sudden downdraft, driving the owl straight toward the earth. Bardolf went down fast. As he fell to earth, the ground rose to meet him. Bardolf hit hard.

Dimitri deliberately snickered, digging at him again. I thought you were supposed to have been an alpha, a leader of the pack. You don’t fly so well, do you?

Bardolf yelled, a ferocious sound making the trees shiver. He launched himself again, this time streaking straight at Dimitri, shifting as he did so, slamming into the Carpathian before Dimitri could move, claws ripping at his chest and belly, digging deep.

Dimitri shifted out from under him the moment Bardolf drew back for another assault. Bardolf made his grab but his hands went through empty space. Dimitri couldn’t afford to allow the Sange rau to actually catch him. The idea was to hit and run, not get caught. He’d been a little slow and he paid the price. Bardolf was so fast, he’d sliced Dimitri’s body in a dozen places before Dimitri could actually shift.

He became tiny molecules, and instead of doing what Bardolf anticipated, he attached himself to the Sange rau’s clothing, allowing the wolf/vampire to take him up to the storm where he was expected to be. Bardolf sniffed around, his acute sense of smell telling him Dimitri was near, but he couldn’t find him in the roiling, spinning clouds.

Dimitri had practiced the move on his brother hundreds of times, but he hadn’t been wounded. Blood hadn’t been leaking from his body to give his position away. He didn’t have much time to control the bleeding and slip off Bardolf. Ahead of him, he wove four different strands and sent them out into the storm, forcing the wolf/vampire to make a choice of which would be Dimitri.

Bardolf took the bait, hesitating for a moment, using his enhanced vision to try to choose the one element he believed was his Carpathian opponent. He made up his mind and flew after the strand leading back toward the opening to the mountain. Dimitri abandoned him, moving into a dark, spinning cloud, catching his breath and preparing his next move.

The Sange rau suddenly changed direction as if he’d been summoned. Dimitri’s pulse jumped. Fen? You okay? Bardolf is headed your way fast.

Can you stop him? Slow him down?

His brother sounded the same way he always sounded. Matter-of-fact. But Dimitri touched his mind for a moment. There was pain. Exhaustion. Blood loss. No problem. I’m on it now.

Dimitri studied the trajectory of the wolf/vampire hurtling recklessly toward his master. In his hurry to obey, Bardolf forgot the cat and mouse game they’d been playing, dismissing Dimitri as of little consequence. After all, Dimitri hadn’t actually engaged in a fight with him.

Dimitri used the storm he’d built. Superheating a pocket of air was easy enough. Placing it exactly where Bardolf would choose to fly was the much more difficult part, but Dimitri had spent lifetimes running with the wolves. The real thing. He’d spent time with his brother, who had become Lycan.

Bardolf thought as a wolf first. He was comfortable in that skin. He was familiar with it and seemed to hesitate before he used the gifts his vampire blood gave him. Dimitri thought like a wolf as well. He’d run with them for centuries and studied their behavior. Bardolf was comfortable with a pack. He fought in a pack. Fighting alone was completely foreign to him.

His master had only perpetuated that weakness in order to keep the wolf from wanting to usurp his leader. Bardolf would go straight to his alpha, taking the fastest line of flight to obey. Dimitri chose a spot just ahead of the wolf/vampire and built the searing heat. Bardolf burst into the small section and screamed as the scalding heat burned his skin.

Bardolf backpedaled, desperate to get away from the heat burning right through him. Dimitri blasted out of the sky behind him, driving straight for him. The force of the two coming together at such a speed helped drive the stake deep into Bardolf’s back. Dimitri knew immediately he’d missed the heart. Something must have warned the Sange rau because at the last moment, he turned slightly, just enough to throw off Dimitri’s aim.

Bardolf spun, claws whipping across Dimitri’s face, knocking him back so that he tumbled. Before he could shift, Bardolf was on him, ripping at his belly, pushing the silver stake from his body and catching it in his palm, reversing and throwing it hard at Dimitri.

Dimitri twisted hard, trying to present the smallest target possible. The stake entered his shoulder high. The force of Bardolf’s throw drove it straight through so that the shaft left a large hole behind. Bardolf immediately pursued the injured Carpathian, following up on his advantage. Dimitri had suspected all along that he was close to becoming the Sange rau, and the terrible, relentless burn of the silver confirmed it for him.