She also recognized his name from the letter Ricard Beaudet had read aloud to her. This man collected carousel horses. Maybe that was why she'd chosen to go to his club. She'd subconsciously picked it, not because it was the hottest spot in the city, but because she'd hoped to run into him and maneuver a look at the coveted painted horses. Now she'd endangered him. And she knew he was in real danger. Fridrick was utterly focused on him--not on either of the two women.
Fridrick's features changed subtly--and not for the better. His eyes looked red, bloodshot. even. His teeth didn't seem so white, and there was the faintest hint of sharpness when he stretched his mouth obscenely in a smile. His skin looked different, much paler, and even his fingernails looked longer.
"Vi," she whispered softly, "back out of here." At least she could get Genevieve out alive. She was going to stay and do her best to help Tariq Asenguard survive--although she had no idea how. She'd gone to Asenguard's club and she'd drawn the serial killer to her. This was her responsibility, not Tariq's. She wanted to run from Fridrick, telling herself she had Lourdes, but something compelled her to protect Tariq. She needed to protect him.
"No, Genevieve," Tariq said unexpectedly, but his voice was a command. "You stay close to me."
Genevieve halted her backward movement instantly.
"Such a good idea, little pet," Fridrick sneered. "Learn to obey a master, although Tariq is hardly that. Both of you come away from him. You really do not have a choice."
Tariq inhaled and knew he'd been right all along. Fridrick was not alone. Even as the master vampire spoke, the others emerged from the shadows. Seven of them. Three of the seven were clearly vampire and not underlings, not pawns to be sacrificed. He recognized all three of them. One was Fridrick's brother Georg. The other two were cousins of the Malinov brothers, Dorin and Cornel Malinov. Each vampire had the reputation of being extremely cruel.
The other four were a mystery to Tariq. They appeared human to him--but more. Enhanced somehow, yet not puppets. He knew Vadim had recruited humans--dregs of society that preyed on others. Humans willing to take money, knowing they were feeding the vampires and killing their enemies for them. These men were different. Human--yet not. He needed to find out exactly what they were and what use they had for Vadim. More, he needed to know why he hadn't been able to detect a shadow of the vampires on them.
Experiments had been conducted beneath the city. There had been an entire labyrinth, another city below the one aboveground where Vadim and his brother, Sergey, plotted to gain power. Carpathian hunters had run them off, but they hadn't had time to examine all the sophisticated equipment left behind. They'd been concerned with following the two master vampires in an effort to destroy them, but now, he realized, whatever experiments had been taking place below the city had yielded results. The four men facing him were an altogether new experience. He didn't like having an unknown element in the mix when the lives of two women--one his lifemate--were in the battle zone.
He straightened to his full height, rolling his shoulders slightly, calm settling over him. It was war then. Right here. Right now. Already his brain was planning, working out what to do first. Fridrick was the most dangerous, but he wouldn't commit to the battle. He wouldn't want a scratch on him. He'd go after the women, but if he'd wanted them dead, he would have killed them long before Tariq had come on the scene.
"Stay behind me," Tariq cautioned Charlotte in a low voice. He was well aware Fridrick could hear. All four vampires would have heard his soft command, but no one would move until Fridrick gave the order. He wanted Charlie away from him, where Fridrick could hopefully keep her from the others. In the heat of battle, he couldn't imagine that one or more of the undead would lose control and their need to kill, for that ultimate high would override all orders from their master.
Charlotte took a step behind him, but both women immediately opened their small clutches and pulled something out. Weapons? He couldn't see.
"Mr. Asenguard."
Charlotte's voice was perfectly calm. A shock to him. He hadn't expected her to remain so cool when she had to realize they were in trouble, even if she had no idea what Fridrick was. Just the way her hand dropped to his arm and applied pressure--a warning--he knew she was aware.
"You may not remember, but you sent a letter to the man I trained under in Paris. Ricard Beaudet was a master at restoring art, particularly the oldest carousel horses found in Europe."
Her tone was purely conversational and it did exactly what she hoped--she'd thrown Fridrick off-balance. Good girl, he whispered in his mind. Stalling was good. Maksim would come, as would others. He had sent out a call for available hunters to come to San Diego when he and Maksim had discovered Vadim's lair. Those nearby would be on their way and coming fast. Tariq just needed a little more time. His woman was cool under fire and maybe, just maybe, she would provide that time.
"Of course I remember Beaudet. I asked him to come to the States and restore some horses I recently acquired." He played along, keeping his tone conversational, low, so that Fridrick and the others had to really listen to hear. "We corresponded back and forth and I sent him pictures of my collection and eventually an airplane ticket, but he never arrived."
Charlotte's gaze shifted from Tariq to Fridrick and then back again. "Ricard died, in Paris. Was murdered. The police have no idea who did it. There was a serial killer on the loose. He would drain the bodies of most of the blood and tear out the throats of his victims."
Tariq heard affection for the man in her voice. Sorrow for his death. Knowledge that Fridrick was responsible. His instinct was to hold her. Comfort her. He couldn't do either, because he needed to step farther away from her to give himself fighting room as well as to keep her out of the battle line when the others attacked.
The air grew heavy with tension. Fridrick straightened subtly, an almost imperceptible motion, but Tariq saw it and glided a few steps toward him, more to put distance between Charlotte and himself than to begin the battle. Charlie moved with him, mirroring his steps, staying close to him.
He hissed a warning at her, his gaze sliding over her briefly before returning to Fridrick. The woman was going to get herself hurt if she kept it up.
"Get away from him, Charlotte," Fridrick commanded. The compulsion in his voice was so strong, Genevieve clapped both hands over her ears, yet still took a step back from Tariq. "Now."
Charlotte laughed softly. "Fridrick. All these months you've had time to study me. You certainly stalked me long enough to know I am not the kind of woman to respond well to orders, especially not from a man I suspect of killing my brother. Why in the world would you think I would do a single thing you ordered me to do? Your voice? I don't hear it the way Genevieve hears it. To me it sounds grating, not in the least compelling. If you wanted me to come with you, perhaps you shouldn't have been bragging about Paris and what you did there, or about how you killed my brother and left my niece alive so I would return to the States."
Vampires were pale creatures, yet Fridrick flushed. As if he had feelings. As if Charlotte's soft declaration not only angered him but embarrassed him. Tariq tried to understand how that could happen. Why it could happen. Something much more than any Carpathian had ever considered was going on, and he knew he and the other hunters had to figure it out quickly if their species was going to survive. Clearly they were under a well-thought-out and brilliantly planned attack. He had to get into the tunnels and discover exactly what Vadim, his brother, Sergey, and Fridrick had been up to.
"Fridrick." Tariq said his name softly, drawing the vampire's attention away from Charlotte. She didn't realize she was poking a stick at a hornet's nest.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Fridrick's small army had become restless, eager to get on with it. That gave Tariq insight into Fridrick's mind. Fridrick didn't have nearly as much control over his men as he thought he did. And that told Tariq that Fridrick's attention was centered on Charlotte, and not on the battle.
&nbs
p; "Did you actually admit to committing murder?"
Fridrick scowled and once more searched the large parking garage as if that would give him a clue to whatever trap Tariq might be leading him into. His gaze shifted back to Charlotte, his appearance still as handsome, but his complexion was flushed and he looked agitated instead of coolly in control. He waved a hand, dismissing the subject.
"Charlie, I am offering you one last chance to cooperate with me. If you don't, you will regret your decision." Fridrick's voice was no longer beguiling. It was hard and angry, betraying the tension boiling beneath the vampire's cool demeanor.
Before Charlotte could reply, Maksim arrived. On his heels were all three of the triplets, Mataias and his brothers Lojos and Tomas. Tariq raised his eyebrow when he saw Tomas, and quickly scanned him for wounds. He had been injured in the last battle and had been put in the earth to heal. Just two weeks had passed, and that wasn't enough time given the severity of the injuries to the Carpathian hunter.
Tomas sent him a cocky grin, the four hunters spreading out behind him, facing Fridrick's men. Another hunter emerged from the shadows. Tariq hadn't seen Dragomir Kozul since they had battled together in Russia. The centuries hadn't been so kind to him. Few Carpathians scarred, but Dragomir looked like a road map of scars. His face and neck bore tattoos that had been carved into his skin, rather than inked. His eyes were pure gold. Unusual, almost antiqued gold. A giant of a man, taller and more muscular than most Carpathian males, he looked fit, yet each natural line was carved deep, as if he was so world-weary, he had forgotten how to express any emotion, even when among humans.
Two more hunters moved into position on either side of them. One Tariq recognized as Afanasiv Balan, a hunter who, like Maksim, had been a good friend to Tariq over the years. Siv was extremely dangerous, a powerful man with unusual eyes that looked as if they swirled blue and green, both colors vibrant. His hair, rather than black, as most Carpathians' was, was long and thick and very blond. It was a rarity in the Carpathian world and it set him apart. Like Dragomir, he rarely spoke, but he was quick to take action. Tariq was grateful he was there.
The other hunter was one Tariq had very little knowledge of. He had been born a few years before Tariq had left with his father and mother, when he was still in his thirties, to go into the Russian territories. They'd shared a childhood, but Tariq only knew him by reputation now. He looked worn and grim, his eyes gray, his hair black and woven with long leather cords into a thick braid. He had one scar that was curved right over his left temple to the corner of his left eye. He was slender in comparison to hunters such as Dragomir or Siv, without an ounce of fat. His muscles were sleek and powerful, and he moved with the fluid glide of a predator. His name was Nicu Dalca. He moved like lightning, so fast when he fought that one could see only a blur of movement.