Dark Prince - Feehan Christine - Страница 64
- Предыдущая
- 64/78
- Следующая
Mikhail never moved from his spot, sadness filling his soul. Such a waste of life. A tragedy. Gregori was able to destroy life so easily, with no feeling, no regret. That told Mikhail, more than anything, just how desperate his people’s plight really was.
“You take too many chances,” Gregori growled in reprimand, materializing beside Mikhail. “They were programmed to destroy you. You should have made certain you removed yourself from harm’s way.”
Mikhail surveyed the destruction and death surrounding him. Not one body had gotten within ten feet of him. “I knew you would never allow such a thing. He will never rest now until he destroys you, Gregori.”
A faint, wolfish grin touched Gregori’s mouth. “That is the idea, Mikhail. This is my invitation to him. He has the right to challenge you openly if he so desires, but he is betraying you to mortals. Such treachery will never be tolerated.”
“We need to find Father Hummer,” Mikhail said softly. “He is too old to survive such a brutal attack. The vampire will not keep him alive once the sun begins to rise.”
“But why this elaborate plot?” Gregori mused aloud. “He must have known you would not be caught in the ravine or by the wolves.”
“He delays me.” A flicker of fear touched Mikhail’s black eyes. Once more his mind sought Raven’s. She was teasing Jacques.
Suddenly Mikhail inhaled sharply. “Byron. It is well known in the village that he is Eleanor’s brother. If Eleanor, her child, and Vlad were targets, it stands to reason that Byron is also.” Even as his body bent, contorted, and feathers sprouted, shimmering iridescent in the faint light beginning to streak across the sky, he was already sending a sharp warning to the young Carpathian male. The powerful wings beat strongly as he raced the sun to go to the aid of his brother’s best friend.
Gregori surveyed the mountains, his pale eyes moving along the shadowed cliffs above the forest. He stepped off the edge of the cliff, his body shape-shifting as he plummeted toward earth. Wings beat strongly, lifting him into the sky, straight for the jutting rock surface rising above the treetops. The entrance to the cave was a mere slit in the rock wall. It was easy enough to unravel the safeguards. In order to squeeze through the narrow opening, Gregori dissolved into mist and streamed through the crack.
The passage began to widen almost at once, twisting and turning through rock. Water trickled from the walls on either side. And then he was in a large chamber: the vampire’s lair. He had the scent now. A glint of satisfaction appeared in Gregori’s silver eyes. The vampire would find no resting place here. The undead would find that no one made a threat against the prince without merciless retaliation from Gregori.
Raven paced restlessly across the floor of the cabin, sending Jacques a little self-mocking smile. “I’m very good at waiting.”
“I can see that,” Jacques agreed dryly.
“Come on, Jacques”—Raven made the length of the room again, turned to face him—”don’t you find this even a little bit nerve-wracking?”
He leaned lazily back in his chair, flashing a cocky grin. “Being caged up with a beautiful lunatic, you mean?”
“Ha, ha, ha. Do all Carpathian males think they’re stand-up comedians?”
“Just those of us with sisters-in-law who bounce off walls. I feel like I am watching a Ping-Pong ball. Settle down.”
“Well, how long does something like this take? Mikhail was very upset.”
Leaning back with studied casualness, Jacques tipped his chair to a precarious angle and raised an eyebrow. “Women have vivid imaginations.”
“Intellect, Jacques, not imagination,” she corrected sweetly.
He grinned at her. “Carpathian males understand the fragile nature of women’s nerves. They just cannot take the adversity that we men can.”
Raven hooked her foot around his chair and sent him crashing to the floor. Hands on hips, she regarded him with a superior glint. “Carpathian men are vain, dear brother-in-law,” she proclaimed, “but not too bright.”
Jacques glared up at her with mock ferocity. “You have a mean streak in you.” He suddenly came to his feet; his dark eyes were instantly sober, restless. “Put this on.” Out of nothing he fashioned a heavy cardigan.
“How do you do that?” It seemed like magic to her.
“A Carpathian can make anything natural of the earth,” he informed her in a slightly distracted tone. “Put it on, Raven. I am beginning to feel trapped in this cabin. We need to get out into the night where I can smell trouble coming.”
Raven pulled the warmth of the cardigan close around her and followed Jacques out onto the porch. “The night is almost over,” she observed.
Jacques inhaled sharply. “I smell blood. Two humans; one is familiar to me.”
“Father Hummer,” Raven said anxiously. “It’s his blood.” She started down the stairs, but Jacques, more cautious, caught her arm.
“I do not like this, Raven.”
“He’s hurt, Jacques. I feel his pain. He is not a young man.”
“Perhaps. But how is it he is up here? This cabin is very remote; few know of its existence. How does the priest come to us nearing our weakest hour?”
“He could be dying. Mikhail trusts him,” Raven said staunchly, her heart already going out to the priest. “We have to help him.”
“You will stay behind me and do as I say,” Jacques commanded, forcing her resisting body behind him. “I gave Mikhail my word that I would guard you with my life, and this I intend to do.”
“But...” Raven swallowed the rest of her protest, easily reading his resolve.
“Scent the wind, Raven. You are Carpathian. Do not always believe the obvious. See with more than your eyes and your heart. I have called Mikhail. He is far from us but will return with all speed. And the dawn approaches.” Jacques had moved off the small porch to the grove of trees, turning slowly in a full circle. “There is another.”
Raven tried, inhaling the night air, scanning in every direction to find hidden danger. She felt uneasy, but she could only detect the slow approach of the priest and his human companion. “What am I missing, Jacques?” Then she felt it, too, a feeling of disturbance in the natural harmony of things, a power that was out of balance with the earth.
She saw Jacques catch his breath sharply; his black eyes, so like Mikhail’s, glittered with sudden menace. “Get out of here, Raven. Run. Get out fast. Do not look back. Find shelter from the sun and wait for Mikhail.”
“I can help you.” Terror was rising. Something terrible threatened them, something Jacques feared. Raven could not find it in herself to run away and leave her brother-in-law to face danger alone. “I can’t go, Jacques.”
You do not understand. You are more important than I am, than the priest, than any of us. You are our only hope for the future. Leave this place. Do not make me fail my brother.
Indecision warred with her conscience. Father Hummer limped into view, far more frail than she remembered him. His face was battered and swollen almost beyond recognition. For the first time he looked every one of his eighty-three years.
“Go, Raven!” Jacques hissed, again making a slow circle, never once looking at the advancing priest. His eyes were restless, moving constantly, searching, always searching. You must leave now.
Another man came into view. He looked remarkably like Eugene Slovensky, but his hair was blonder and he was obviously younger. He moved up behind the priest and with the flat of his palm on Edgar Hummer’s back, shoved viciously.
The priest stumbled forward, fell on one knee, tried to rise and fell full length, his face in the dirt and vegetation. The blond viciously kicked him. “Get up, damn you, old man. Get up or I’ll kill you where you lie.”
“Stop it!” Raven cried, tears glistening in her eyes. “Father Hummer!” Impetuously she rushed down the stairs.
- Предыдущая
- 64/78
- Следующая
