Jacques reached the edge of the meadow at the timberline to find Mikhail pacing carefully across a patch of earth. "Wolf traps," he said tersely and continued his inspection.
"Watch for thin wires, perhaps not visible to our eyes," Jacques cautioned. "He must be able to do something to hide the wires from us."
Gregori's form shimmered into solidity. He stood very still, inhaling the early-morning air. "This is one giant trap, my friends. I am very uneasy finding only one human with Byron."
"If Byron is even inside," Jacques agreed. "Where are the others?"
"The vampire must be in the ground, away from the sun," Mikhail said. "There is nothing that could allow him to see the light of day once he has turned."
"So where is the human's partner?" Jacques asked aloud.
Mikhail shrugged uneasily. "I suggest we approach soundlessly and invisible to the human eye. Spread out so we can help one another should there be need."
"The wire." Gregori's voice was a mere thread of sound. "It is strung crisscrossed throughout the meadow at various heights. A thin, garrote-like affair meant to slice through the throat, but also hung in such a way as to cut us in many places, making us weak. Obviously no thought was given to other humans or animals who might venture near this place."
"Ah, yes, I see them now. Very clever, our vampire," Mikhail said. "We are definitely expected, though not, I should think, until tonight. Perhaps his human friends have gone for supplies, thinking they have the entire day to torment Byron without fear of interference."
"I do not know, Mikhail. Something here makes me uneasy," Gregori warned. "Something not quite right."
"I feel it also," Jacques agreed, "although I cannot explain what it is exactly. It is as if this is all prearranged, and we are walking into a spider's web. I know this place. I can feel the pain and torment as if it was happening all over again." And he was, his insides writhing and his gut clenching. It was difficult to maintain his outward calm when his flesh crawled and pain tore at him, splintering his mind so that he didn't know what was real and what was part of his never-ending nightmare.
"Perhaps you are feeling Byron's pain," Mikhail suggested with concern. Jacques' face remained impassive, but the lines in his skin deepened, and crimson smeared his forehead.
Jacques, are you hurt? I will come to you.
Shea's soft voice swirled in his mind, caught fragments of his thoughts and seemed to piece him back together. She was, as always, his one and only anchor to reality.
Stay there, but stay connected to me, Shea. Being so close to this place is disorienting me. I need you to keep me together.
Hewas begging, but Jacques had no choice. She was his lifemate, and her presence in his mind could mean the difference between success and failure to their mission. He did not want to be the cause of the others' deaths.
A grim smile touched Gregori's sensual mouth, his silver eyes humorless and pierced with dangerous light. "They mean to capture us, Mikhail. Us, the two most powerful-of our kind. Perhaps they need a real demonstration in power."
Jacques glanced at Mikhail uneasily. Maybe it was the way his body was remembering every burn, every slash. With age the pain became more intense, if one could feel. Unlike a vampire, a Carpathian was capable of tremendous sensation. Jacques had suffered what no man, human or Carpathian, should have endured. It wasn't even in the name of science, just a sadist bent on inflicting as much pain as possible.
Come back, Jacques.
Shea's voice was filled with concern.
I cannot. I cannot leave Byron to suffer my fate. I can feel your pain, Jacques. You are having a hard time concentrating on what you're doing. Your mind is very scattered. Of what use are you to Byron if you get caught? Come back to me. I will get him out of there. Just stay with me, Shea.
Jacques concentrated on her, held her strength and warmth in his mind to fight the growing pain. The ground seemed to roll beneath his feet; the rain pounded down on him. His flesh was burning; he could smell it. Cuts opened up and bled freely. He caught at his chest as pain ripped through him, tearing muscles and bone. His throat closed off; breathing became impossible. His heart pounded until he felt it had to explode.
"Jacques!" Gregori gripped his arm. "It is part of the trap set for you specifically. The vampire knew you would come, and you are caught in the web. He is amplifying your own fears and the pain you suffered. He is not here; it is merely a warp you are trapped in. Know it is not real, and fight your way out."
"I do not understand." Pinpricks of scarlet dotted Jacques' body, stained his shirt. His eyes were alive with pain and madness.
I do.
Shea snatched at the information in his mind. She wrapped him in the warmth of her love.
Feel me, Jacques. Concentrate only on me and what you feel when we touch, when we kiss.
She pictured it in her head, him holding her so possessively, so tenderly, his mouth finding hers hungrily. The way she felt, hot and silken with heat, needing and wanting him. Her mouth as hungry as his. Her hands tangled in his thick hair.
Feel me, Jacques.
Her whisper moved over his skin like the touch of her fingers.
Jacques narrowed his focus until he blocked out everything but the smell and taste of her, the touch of her fingers, her soft, sexy voice. She became his world, was his world, would always be. Nothing else was real. She was his heart and his very breath. Her breathing regulated his back to a steady in and out. Her heart brought the rhythm of his slowly back to a normal pattern. His skin was on fire, but with sensual hunger rather than the pain of torture.
Her breath seemed to warm his ear, his mind.
I love you, Jacques. Do what you must, then hurry home to me.
She released him with great reluctance, the warmth of her love lingering behind.
Jacques shook his head to bring himself back to the present situation. Almost at once the earth moved beneath his feet, and the pain tried to hammer at him. But the vampire would not snag him twice in the same trap. He wrenched himself forward, concentrating on the way Shea's mouth tasted, the curve of her hip beneath his hand, the way her eyes lit up just before she laughed. He held her close to his heart, kept the vision of her wild mane of hair in front of him as he pushed his way through the warp and out into the open land.
"Good," Gregori approved. "But this one is very adept. I am uneasy over the way this is going, Mikhail. Let us take to the air above the wires and approach from different directions. I will go in first. Our people cannot afford to lose either of you."
"Gregori," Mikhail reminded him softly, "if the child is your lifemate, and you do something careless, you are condemning her to death. Keep that in mind when you enter this place of madness."
Gregori's silver eyes slashed at his old friend. "Do you think I would chance harming her in any way? I have waited several lifetimes for her. These humans are nothing. They have persecuted our people for far too long. I mean it to stop."
Mikhail nodded, his dark eyes, so like his brother's, black ice. "You are up to this, Jacques?"
Jacques' smile was a humorless promise of retaliation. "Have no worries about me. I am looking forward to this."
Mikhail sighed. "Two bloodthirsty savages thinking they are in the dark ages."
Jacques exchanged a humorless grin with Gregori. "The dark ages were not such a bad time. At least justice could be dispensed easily without worrying about what the women would think."
"You both have gone soft," Gregori snickered. "No wonder our people have such problems. The women are ruling, and you two besotted idiots just follow along."
Jacques' solid form wavered, became transparent. "We will see who proves to be the soft one, healer." His body completely disappeared from sight.
Mikhail glanced at Gregori, shrugged, then followed suit. None of this was to his liking. Gregori was a time bomb waiting to explode. And only God knew what Jacques was capable of. It seemed the worst possible time to confront an enemy, just as they were weakening from the light of day.
Gregori waited until Mikhail and Jacques had disappeared before allowing his body to dissolve. He launched himself skyward, wincing as the sun's light, penetrating the dark clouds, hit his eyes. He cursed silently. Raven was alone with a woman who knew next to nothing about their people's capabilities. She was very weak. The child was his only hope, and it was stupidity to rescue a Carpathian male who was on the verge of turning. A few more years and Gregori would be hunting him.
Jacques moved across the meadow, high above the gleaming wires. Water danced off the thin strands like crystal droplets. He moved around the blackened ruins in a slow circle, looking for the entrance hidden in the ground. It bothered him that he didn't know exactly where it was, or that the others might know before him. It made him feel as if he were ill, totally incompetent.
Soft laughter sent warmth curling through his body.
Since when have you ever been incompetent? You made me crazy even when you were lying allegedly helpless, in bed. The first time you kissed me, I forgot my own name. That is not incompetent.
Jacques found the tension easing out of his body. Shea had a way of doing that for him with just the sound of her laughter, her warmth.
I am looking for the entrance to the cellar. The ground appears to be completely undisturbed. As I walked across the meadow and approached the burned area, the stone fireplace was on my right. I circled the perimeter from the right side. The door was buried in the dirt. I couldn't see it, but I felt it with my hand. I remember the fireplace was to my right by about ten feet or so. Thanks, little red hair.
Jacques crouched in the rain, ran his hand along the mud-slick soil.
"There is something over here," Mikhail said softly, his eyes searching for a hidden trap. His body hovered over the area as he examined the ground. "There are marks on the ground, as if a branch has been dragged over it. Dirt and rocks have been scattered over the spot."
"Do not touch it!" Jacques ordered sharply. "The fireplace should be to your right and farther out."
"You remember this?" Gregori asked skeptically.
"Shea remembers. It must be another trap. The rain would have removed those marks."
"They did not have much time to set such traps," Mikhail observed. "Byron was taken no more than an hour ago, if that."
"Perhaps we are underestimating this vampire, Mikhail. I could manufacture such traps, and so could you. Aidan and Julian could do so, and no doubt Jacques. Who else do we know who has this kind of power?" Gregori asked softly.
"There are few others over the age of six hundred years," Mikhail said.
"Perhaps this is a crime of hate more than of age," Jacques ventured. "What was done to me was done with the idea of causing as much suffering as I could take before death claimed me. That is a crime of hatred, one of revenge."
Gregori and Mikhail exchanged a quick, knowing look. "Of course, you have to be right, Jacques," Mikhail agreed for both of the ancients. "A vampire would avoid us, not try to draw us to him. So whom did you anger enough to warrant this much hatred?"
Jacques shrugged calmly. His own hatred was deep and smoldering, a rage so ingrained that he knew the demon would rise within him the moment he encountered any of those involved in his torture and imprisonment. Whoever hated him so much had created a like feeling within him, hatred that not only matched but surpassed anything the vampire might feel. "You know more of my past than I do, but it really does not matter, as long as he believes I wronged him," Jacques said. "It is here. The door is here."
"The human is dozing." Mikhail probed the mind of the unseen man carefully. "He is supremely confident that he will be undisturbed."
Gregori, too, was probing the human. "I like none of this, Mikhail. It seems too easy. The vampire knows we can travel in the early morning hours. Our powers might not be at full strength, but even diminished, we can handle humans easily."
"You stay out of sight, Gregori, watch our backs," Mikhail cautioned. "I will instruct the human to open the cellar and allow us in. Jacques and I will test for a trap."
"Jacques and I will go inside, Mikhail. We cannot risk your life. You know that." Gregori did not wait for a response. He had spent most of his life guarding Mikhail, the dispenser of justice for his people. Even with his lifemate so close to existence, Gregori would not back away from this duty. He seized the human's mind with ease, demanding information.
Jeff Smith woke abruptly, a pain in his head, uneasiness gripping his very soul. In his mind was something that did not belong to him, something powerful that demanded every detail of the past few days, insisted on a blow-by-blow replay of the past few hours. He tried to resist, but the thing was far too powerful to ignore. He went over every detail. The vampire bringing the paralyzed Carpathian, Donnie burning and slicing the victim, Slovensky laughing and egging him on. The vampire standing emotionless, watching with empty eyes and frankly scaring the hell out of Jeff. Donnie and Slovensky going for supplies, whispering to each other and the vampire.
The vampire promised no one would be able to find them; his spells would safeguard the makeshift dungeon until nightfall. The other vampires would be trapped in the ground until night. Jeff was safe and could torment their victim at will. Smith wished he had the woman, the red-haired doctor. He had delicious thoughts of what he would do with her for long hours at a time.
Jacques made a sound, not aloud but in his mind, and immediately broke all contact with Shea. She could not witness the demon rising in him. Already fangs were exploding in his mouth, and the red haze demanding a kill was spewing upward with violent, murderous intent. A low, warning growl escaped him, and he hissed at Gregori to warn him off his kill.
Mikhail moved to intercept his brother. "We have need of this man."
Gregori placed himself firmly between the two Carpathians, recognizing immediately that Jacques' tattered mind was focused on only one thing.
Donot try to interfere, Mikhail. He will attack you. He is not healed, and he is very dangerous. We cannot control him, and he has shut out the woman. She is his only hold on reality. We cannot save this human.
He shrugged as if to say it didn't matter to him one way or the other. And it didn't. If Mikhail had not been with them, Gregori would have already dispensed his own brand of justice.
Smith felt something take a firmer hold on his mind. This was not the same as the demand for information. This was an attack by an alien being, a grip of steel that felt as if it would crush his very skull. Smith cried out, whirled to face the broken man lying so seemingly helpless before him. The eyes were open, staring at him, pain-filled, malevolent even, but his victim appeared near death. The vampire had assured Jeff that this one was quite paralyzed in body and mind, that he could feel the pain inflicted upon him but could not cry out for help to others of his kind or harm the humans in any way.
Smith picked up a knife, still crimson with the victim's blood, and took a step toward the bloody coffin. Instantly he was slammed against the wall by an unseen force, and the knife twisted toward him. Screaming, Jeff dropped the weapon. His head buzzed with pain. Whatever it was, was outside, demanding that he open the door. He clapped both hands to his head, trying to resist the compulsion, but his feet were already moving, obeying the unseen dictator.
The being snarled in impatience and applied more pressure. Jeff knew he was letting in his own death as he made his way up the rotting stairs to the heavy door. His every step brought those razor-sharp teeth closer and closer to his throat. But he couldn't stop himself. The being sent the clear picture to his brain, yet he couldn't stop himself. His hand was on the door. He shoved.
The wooden door exploded upward, and two clawed hands seized him, dragged him into the pouring rain. Thunder cracked, and a bolt of lightning hit a tree, split it in two with a deafening sound. A shower of sparks erupted. The earth fell away as Jeff was jerked skyward. He recognized the face now, the man he had once tortured for days. The man they had purposely buried alive seven years earlier.
Those black eyes had promised death, had haunted him for years, and now they were ice and fire, rimmed with red. Teeth gleamed white, sharp and dripping. Jeff screamed as the hot breath burned his neck. He felt the teeth tearing into his flesh, exposing his jugular. Hot liquid spilled down his chest, and he looked down to see his own blood spraying out. And then the creature was consuming him while his heart stuttered to stay alive and his mind cried out for another chance.
All around him the ghosts of the women he had raped and killed, the men Donnie had encouraged him to torture, floated into his mind. The rain beat down on his upturned face. The creature dropped him into the mud with a sickening thud. Jeff squirmed, tried to crawl, turned his head to see a wolf approaching from the timberline. He tried to make a sound, but there was only a gasping wheeze.
Jacques crouched down and looked him in the eye, completely dispassionate, watching the glaze creeping into the depths of Jeff Smith's staring eyes. "You go to a hell you deserve, human," he whispered contemptuously into the dying man's mind.
Jacques stayed crouched beside the man, red flames burning in his eyes, the demon in him roaring and hungry for retribution. He knew Byron was trapped in the cellar, that this human and his friends had tortured the Carpathian male just as they had tortured him years earlier. Adrenaline and power pumped through his body.
Mikhail paced back and forth nervously. Jacques was more animal than man, acting on the age-old instinct of the predator. Low growls continually rumbled in his throat, something Mikhail was certain his brother was not even aware of.
Jacques bent low, caught the bloodstained shirt, and dragged the human closer, his need for death erupting. The call was wild and strong. Every word Shea had spoken concerning this man and his partner and what they had promised to do to her echoed in his mind. The need of the Carpathian male to protect his mate and the hunger for retribution urged him to feel every moment of the taking of life.
Mikhail could see the war raging in Jacques. It would be a difficult thing for him to live with, the taking of blood during a kill. Gregori and he had both done it, but the rush was addicting and dangerous. In Jacques' state, it could be forever damaging. He approached cautiously. "Jacques, do not do this thing. You have too much to lose."
Jacques whirled on him, baring teeth, a warning rumble bringing Gregori to once again insert his body between them. "Leave him, Mikhail. If he makes the kill and consumes the rest of the idiot's blood, it is only what they owe him. He is no longer a child you must protect."
Mikhail swore, angry with Gregori for dismissing the urgency of the act. Too many had been lost at just such a moment. Mikhail had thought Jacques lost to him once; he did not want it again. He also knew Gregori well enough to know he would have to try to go through the ancient's body to get to his brother. Gregori believed Jacques a danger to all of them. With a sigh he resigned himself to the inevitable.
Gregori watched the fight go out of Mikhail and turned his attention to Jacques, simply waiting for the decision to be made.
Jacques smelled the beckoning blood. His hunger was sated, but the taste of fear and adrenaline, the need for revenge, were burning in him. The rushing high consumed him, yet the cool wind that was Shea anchored him to reality. His body shook with the need to consume while he killed, to feel the life seep out of the man. Reluctantly, he allowed the man's shirt to slip from his fingers. Jeff Smith could die at his own pace, and Jacques would forego the ultimate power of the kill. He took a slow, deep breath and moved away from the broken body, watching his brothers, the wolves, move toward his victim. He shook off the demon, fighting every inch of the way to get himself back under control. It took long moments before he was able to see the two Carpathians as friends instead of enemies.
Gregori nodded at him, then turned and entered the cellar cautiously, inhaling the stale air, careful of any hidden traps. The place smelled of blood and fear, sweat, and the stench of burned flesh. Byron lay in a blood-splattered coffin, his body a thousand cuts and raw, charred flesh. His eyes found Gregori immediately, became anxious and desperate. Gregori tried to reach him on the common path of Carpathians, but Byron's mind was frozen; it was impossible for him to move or communicate. But for the desperation in his eyes, Gregori would have dismissed the cellar as harmless to any of their kind.
Jacques entered the place of death uneasily, the stench sickening him. He caught the warning Gregori silently sent him and did not approach the form in the coffin. It was too easy. The vampire had known they would come, and Jeff Smith had been an unsuspecting sacrifice. The other two humans had probably known it also.
What do you think?
Gregori wanted to know.
Jacques had to fight to keep himself under control. His body shook continually, and the need to kill was still burning brightly in him. It was hard to think, to concentrate. He was aware of the wolves outside and the joy in them as they tore into the carcass. He felt connected to their simple way of life. They called to him to join them, to hunt and feed.
What do you think, Jacques?
Deliberately Gregori used his name to call him back from the need to run wild, to hunt and kill and be truly free.
Something is not right.
Jacques had no idea what it was, but he was certain there was hidden danger.
Byron's eyes were eloquent, obviously trying desperately to communicate something. As Gregori stepped closer, he seemed more agitated, the blood spewing from his wounds.
"Be calm, Byron, go to sleep. No vampire is going to catch us in his trap. Mikhail waits outside. There are three of us." Gregori's voice was beautifully pitched, pure and soothing. "Drift off, slow your heart, and allow your body to hibernate. I will take you somewhere safe to heal. My blood is powerful. You will heal quickly."
The blood pumped out as Byron became even more upset. Gregori's voice softened until it was the wind and the water, the earth itself. "Jacques has exchanged blood with you many times. He can give you his if you prefer to safeguard your pact with him. Do not fear for us; there is no trap the vampire can devise that I cannot unravel. Sleep now, and let us get on with it." The voice was a command.
Although Byron's mind was impossible to control, the voice made anyone hearing it want to comply. Byron was exhausted and wracked with pain. He felt his hold on consciousness slipping away. His life was draining away, and he couldn't convey to them the monstrous, diabolical plot the vampire had outlined to him as he lay so helpless. He could only hope they would figure it out in time. Byron shut down his heart to stop the draining of his blood. His lungs labored for a moment, then, with a little sigh, gave up, and he lay quiet, as if dead.
Gregori breathed a sigh of relief. "I could feel his pain."
"I have felt it before," Jacques replied grimly. "He is better off not feeling or knowing until we can see to his wounds."
"He does not want my blood," Gregori pointed out in his soft, calm tone. Nothing ruffled him; nothing moved him to emotion. He killed or healed as calmly as he talked.
"I am aware that I have entered into a pact with him. I will honor it," Jacques said. "Let us find this trap so we can take him out of here. This place is evil."
Gregori was examining the coffin itself, looking for hidden trip wires or a bomb of some kind. He ran his hand carefully along the outside of the crude wooden box. "The human left here knew nothing; they set him up as expendable. This has to be a death trap." Very cautiously Gregori inspected the body lying so still. "He is in bad shape. He should have put himself to sleep immediately. He must have wanted to die quickly, or he knew they were expecting us and wanted to warn us. Whatever the answer, the day is creeping upon us fast, and we must get him to a cave where we can supply him with blood and the healing earth he needs."
"Stand back, healer, and allow me to lift him. He is my friend, although I do not remember him. I can do no other than honor my commitment to him."
"Go slowly, Jacques. The bomb, if there is one, must be beneath him." Gregori, instead of moving away, moved closer so that he could grab anything that looked harmful and dispense with it if needed.
Hurry, Gregori. The light grows stronger, and I am uneasy,
Mikhail instructed from outside.
Jacques very carefully felt under Byron's body, a slow, cautious sweep, taking his time as if the morning light was not affecting any of them. The smell of blood assailed his nostrils, and the stench of charred flesh made his stomach lurch. Near Byron's hips he felt the smallest of resistance. Instantly he stopped. "It is here, Gregori, a trip wire, razor sharp. It is cutting into my wrist. Can you see it? I dare not move until we know if it is connected to some kind of explosive device."
Gregori crouched low and examined the intricate wiring. "A crude bomb, rather pointless. The vampire knows how easy it would be for me to dismantle it."
"Perhaps this is a present from the two humans. It is a rather human trap, after all," Jacques commented, waiting patiently for Gregori to deal with the problem. His superior strength allowed him to hold Byron's dead weight with one hand and not notice any strain. "Is there a second device? Perhaps the first one is really a dummy."
Gregori was more than uneasy now. He was a master of deceit, of cunning. This was far too elaborate a plot to have been set up in a matter of an hour. This had been planned for a long time. Someone had waited for the opportune time to carry it out. For what purpose? Mikhail felt uneasy also, as did Jacques. Something here was very wrong, but what was it? Puzzled, he examined the device again, not wanting to miss anything.