Dark Melody (Dark 12)

There was a long silence while Dayan listened to the sounds of the night, the murmur of the wind as it whispered to him of secret things. "Sometimes, honey, it is better not to inquire too closely into things you might not want to know about. I used the word mortal when another might have been a better choice. Are we not all both mortal and immortal at the same time? If you were to die, you would leave a part of you behind here on this earth, yet you would continue in another life elsewhere."

"You believe that?"

"Absolutely," Dayan answered solemnly, knowing she needed reassurance. For a brief moment he stopped walking to bury his face in the warmth of her neck, inhaling her scent. "Wherever you are, Corinne, you will never be alone. I will always be with you."

At once the fragrance of her, the reality of her, rose up to overwhelm him, and just that fast he was battling the demon inside. It rose sharply, swift and furious, fangs exploding in his mouth, the male Carpathian demanding he complete the ritual and bind her to him. She was his savior. The keeper of his soul. Light. Colors. Without her, there was only an empty, barren existence he could never return to. Never endure. Her pulse beat beneath his mouth, her life force ebbing and flowing with a dark richness he craved, he needed.

Red flames flickered and danced in the depths of his black eyes as he fought the demon.

Sensing danger, Corinne held herself very still, her arms cradling his head to her. She was aware of his great inner struggle, although she understood nothing of it. His body trembled for a moment, and she felt his mouth moving erotically, back and forth over her soft skin. Her fingers crushed his silky hair, rubbing at the strands in agitation. What was it he needed from her? Sex?

No!

The word shimmered in her mind emphatically. His voice gentled.

Not just sex, my love, I need to make love to you all night. I need to bind us together for all eternity. I do not know how to tell you these things so you can understand, but it is as necessary to me as breathing.

There was such intimacy in the way he spoke to her, in the tenderness of his voice as much as in the way he could communicate, mind to mind.

I need you so much, Corinne, he sighed against her pulse, his breath warm and intimate; so much. '

There was something very dangerous in him  -  she could feel it in his enormous strength, in the possessive way he held her  -  but his need was so great, she couldn't think straight, couldn't think to deny him, not even for her own self-preservation.

The answer was shimmering in her mind, in his mind.

I want to be whatever you need.

There were no words spoken aloud, yet he heard her acceptance of him, of his differences, of his wild, untamed nature. It echoed in her mind and in her heart. He murmured her name softly, his sacred talisman to guide him back from the precipice of danger, the whisperings of madness she could not hope to understand.

His mouth moved over the slender column of her neck, touched her ear briefly, while both of them seemed to drown in a rush of molten heat. He could feel her body molding itself to his, responsive, inviting, enticing. She moved restlessly in his arms, and his body reacted with a hot surging of blood, creating a painful ache that would not go away.

Dayan closed his eyes and gave himself up to the luxury of feeling. His mouth moved up her throat to her chin, nibbled lightly before settling over her mouth. At once there was that curious sensation of the earth shifting beneath his feet, of the ground rocking, falling away from him until there was only Corinne. He felt every sensation  -  the satin softness of her skin, the silk of her hair, the hot need of her mouth as he took possession. She clung to him as the storm of need and hunger washed over them, as his mind filled hers with his hungry desire, with dark, erotic images and the ever building fire in his blood.

Her mouth was a silken haven he was lost in, his blood roaring in his ears. Dayan held her tightly, possessively; she was his only refuge after a thousand years of utter loneliness. He lifted his head so that his mouth could drift in a dancing flame of heat and light over her skin back to her irresistible pulse. It beckoned him in an age-old call. She could hear his voice, a soft murmur, a whisper of sensuous command, and her blood quickened, heating in answer. His tongue caressed her skin, his teeth nipped gently, teasingly, erotically, and then she gasped as white-hot lightning arced through her, sizzling, streaking through her blood so that she was on fire. His mouth moved against her and he held her even tighter, fitting her to him almost as if they were making love.

It was like a dream, hazy and unreal, sensuous and erotic. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Corinne felt weak, unable to move, yet she didn't want to, cradling his head to her, her hands in his wealth of hair, giving herself up to his hot, seeking mouth. She closed her eyes, the illusion of being made love to so real she could almost feel him touching her intimately. His voice was in her head, and somehow she felt his desire, the hunger in him, his intense pleasure. She never wanted him to stop. Her fingers slipped from his hair and her hands fell limply to her sides.

At once Dayan lifted his head, breaking the connection between them. Curiously, she felt warm liquid running from her neck along the creamy swell of her breast. She didn't lift her heavy lashes to examine the cause, not wanting to break the magical spell of heat and desire. He lowered his mouth to pursue the liquid trail so that her entire body responded, clenching with pleasure. Corinne smiled that he could make her feel so much without any real effort.

"I left my mark on you." It was a black-velvet whisper that moved through her body with the same heat as her blood. "I could not help myself." He nibbled and teased the corner of her mouth until she obediently opened for him. There was a faint coppery taste as his tongue swept inside, claiming her for his own. Before she could give it any thought, he had taken possession of her soul, her body, so that she was no longer a thinking woman, but a living flame of need and hunger.

His hand came up to cup the weight of her breast, his thumb caressing her nipple through the thin material of her blouse. Flames raced through her bloodstream. His mouth left hers, his teeth nibbling her chin, down the side of her neck and along her vulnerable throat so that she arced closer to him. A soft moan escaped her as his mouth nudged the edge of her blouse.

"We have to stop," she said softly, not convincing either of them.

Her heart was laboring far too hard. That, more than anything else, caused Dayan to gain total control of the demon battling for supremacy. He wanted so much to claim her for his own, to bind her to him. He wanted to secure her life by exchanging blood, not simply tasting the essence of what would be his. He needed her, but more importantly, she needed him. "You are right, honey," he said with deep regret. "Follow my breathing pattern to allow your heart to rest."

She was relaxed in his arms, her eyes closed, her body on fire, yet she felt as if she couldn't move to save her life. She was inexplicably tired, drained. "I need to get things from my house. Medicine. Important things. If we really can't go back for a while, we'll need clothes."

"Make a list," he suggested again. He was moving through the night, his arms cradling her effortlessly, his strides long and easy. He was silent as he carried her toward the small house he shared with Cullen. Every now and then he bent his head to brush the top of her silky head with a kiss.

"I can't make a list, Dayan, you know that. Some things are private. Lisa might let me get her things, but she would never let you go through her personal drawers."

"Then I will buy clothes for you. And makeup, and whatever else you think is necessary." There was no impatience in his voice, rather a mild male amusement as if mundane things like clothes and makeup were of no consequence to him.

Corinne struggled to open her eyes to pin him with a smoldering gaze. "I do not need you to buy me clothes. At least I'm willing to take you with me when I go back to the house. Think of it as a concession."

He paused for a moment, studying her delicate features. "You do not really want to return to the house." He made it a statement. His voice was a soft lure.

She made a supreme effort and caught at the nape of his neck. "You can stop with the voice, Dayan, because I am going. It's important. If you want to come with me, you may, but you aren't going to use your voice to persuade me otherwise. In any case, I know you'll protect me."

"You sound very stern," he commented with great admiration. "I am certain I am very impressed." He couldn't stop the warmth her words produced. She did trust him whether she knew it or not.

"Kissing you is enough to make a woman weak, Dayan," she said, exasperated with herself. "It's bad enough to lie here like a sixteenth century heroine without you teasing me about how I sound."

He kissed her forehead again. "You do sound impressive. It was a compliment."

They had arrived at the house, and without conscious thought, Corinne waved her hand to open the door. He laughed softly in her ear. "Now that was very impressive. I do not think you do that in front of many people. You are becoming very comfortable in my presence."

"Well, don't flatter yourself. It isn't you at all. It's your voice. I like to hear you talk even if you spout a lot of nonsense and macho male rhetoric."

He bent his head and found her mouth with his, easily, unerringly, as if it were the most natural, necessary thing in the world. And he made time stop for that brief moment. "It is me," he said complacently as he carried her through the door. "And I never spout macho male rhetoric."

Lisa and Cullen sprang hastily apart as they entered. They glanced at one another with small, guilty grins, Lisa's beautiful face crimson. She looked alarmed to see Corinne lying so limply in Dayan's arms. "Is she all right?" she asked quickly.

"Absolutely," Dayan assured her. "I would never allow anything to harm her." He was looking directly into Lisa's eyes, and, as always, she subsided. "Corinne insists the two of you need clothes and makeup from your house."

Lisa nodded solemnly. "I was just telling Cullen I will need quite a few things. We should go there tonight before those men come back."

"I do not think it is safe, Lisa," Dayan replied gently, still holding her gaze captive. "I think you should stay here with Cullen while I go and retrieve whatever you need."

"With me," Corinne roused herself enough to say. "You can give the list to me, Lisa." She pushed at the wealth of hair tumbling around her face. "I'm going too, so whatever you need, I can get for you."

"Is it safe?" Cullen asked anxiously, looking at Dayan.

"Of course it is not safe," Dayan answered, his words a clear reprimand. "I am certain the house is being watched. Going there is a sure form of lunacy. And we should be on the road already. It is imperative we meet the healers as soon as possible. It is the only way to ensure that Corinne's heart becomes strong again."

"What healer?" Lisa asked, a note of fear in her voice. "I don't want Corinne anywhere near a quack. I mean it, Dayan. She's had enough crazy people in her life to last us both a lifetime."

Dayan's eyes remained steady on Lisa's face. "She did not bring those people into her life, Lisa," he said quietly.

At once Lisa's eyes filled with tears. "I didn't mean it like that."

Corinne shoved at Dayan's chest hard, furious all at once. "Of course you didn't mean anything, Lisa, no one thought you did. What do you want us to do, honey? Tell me and we'll do it."

Dayan was as gentle as ever, his expression never changing as he continued to look directly into Lisa's eyes. "I am sorry to cause you pain, Lisa. You love Corinne. I know that. I will be happy to get anything from the house that you need, and I guarantee that no quack ever touches Corinne. We are becoming friends, beginning to trust one another." His voice was utterly beautiful, a soft melody of words, the cadence pure and perfectly pitched so that they all strained to hear him.

Corinne framed Dayan's face between her small hands and turned him to face her. "You are doing something I don't like." She said each word distinctly. "Don't do it again."

"You can come with me back to your house," he said very gently, smiling at her, looking more handsome than she wanted to admit. He could rob her of her ability to breathe. It astonished her just how much he could affect her.

"Put me down."

"Can you stand up without my help?" he asked softly, teasingly, whispering the words against her ear.

"Of course," she lied. "And just to set the record straight, Lisa, I'm

allowing him to come to the house with me."

Lisa and Cullen burst out laughing. "It looks like it," Lisa said.

The house was dark and forbidding, giving off a strange vibration of evil to Corinne. As she looked uncertainly at her home, she began to shake. "Dayan?" She whispered his name, suddenly very afraid.

At once he leaned close, his arm sliding around her slender shoulders. "Do not worry, honey. I will not allow anything to happen to you. Not now. Not ever."

"Something's wrong, Dayan, I can feel it. Let's get out of here. Maybe the police should go in with us."

"The police will never stop this group."

"I don't care if they can stop them or not. I think the point is not to get hurt right now. If we ask them, they'll go into the house with us," Corinne pleaded with Dayan. As she looked at him, she found herself touching his mind. She read his resolve. Dayan was determined, casual about the danger, completely confident in himself. Corinne sighed. "You're going in there, aren't you?"

"Of course I am. You and Lisa need clothes."

She caught his arm. "Dayan, forget it. We can shop for clothes. Nothing is worth your getting even a scratch. I don't like the feel of the house. I think someone is either in there or watching it."

He leaned close to kiss her irresistible mouth. "I think you are absolutely right. The house is being watched. But you are perfectly safe right here."

"I'm not waiting here while you go alone. If you insist on being pigheaded about this, I insist on going along. I can do extraordinary things, Dayan. I know I'll be of some help." She was not about to let him go off alone again.

Dayan smiled, his teeth very white in the darkness, making him look like a predator. Why the image flashed into her mind she had no idea, but she shivered all the same. Occasionally she caught glimpses in his mind of predatory wildlife. Weird things, like leopards and night raptors. Swirling images of mist and fog, of lightning bolts and fierce storms. It was all there in his mind mixed up with what and who he was.

There were images of Dayan as a child with other children, running free in a wild jungle, but alongside him were leopards, savage-looking guardians that seemed to be watching over him. She was uncertain whether she was catching glimpses of actual memories or a jumble of memories and fantasy images. It was a dark world, unsuitable for the poet she thought him. In these visions he was a dark predator running with jungle cats in search of prey.

Corinne locked those images away to examine later. She was aware that Dayan was not exactly what he seemed. Dayan was a strong psychic with enormous talent. She had no idea what he was capable of.

"There you go again, honey"  -  he sounded amused  -  "scaring yourself for no reason at all. Such thoughts! You stay here while I check to see that the house is not occupied."

"Is it?" She was curious as to whether he could tell from a long distance away.

"Actually, there is no one in the house, but there is one man waiting in the yard just out of our sight. I can read his thoughts. There is another at the back door. He is whistling to himself. A third man is smoking a cigarette across the street, three houses down from yours. If you watch closely you can see the glow of the cigarette, just there, on the porch." He smiled again, this time without humor. "He is fantasizing quite a scene. I am afraid I cannot allow his twisted dreams to come to reality for him."

"You can read his thoughts from this distance?" She believed him. She knew he was telling her the truth. A part of her mind was struggling to put the puzzle together, but there were too many missing pieces. She trusted Dayan, yet she didn't really know him at all. It felt as if they had been together all of their lives, as if they belonged together, although she had just met him.

Dayan shrugged, a casual ripple of muscle and sinew. Of menace. Corinne bit anxiously at her lower lip. "You always seem so gentle, Dayan, yet you give the impression of being very dangerous. You can be quite intimidating  -  did you know that?" She was trying to laugh off her apprehension, but she perceived the violence in him, smoldering just below the surface.

His arm circled her slender shoulders, pulled her body close into the shelter of his. "All men are capable of violence, honey, if a loved one is threatened. Carpathian males are born protectors; it is a quality imprinted upon us at birth. We have been that way since the beginning of time. Your safety and health are my number one concerns."

Why did everything he say seem so rational when it wasn't at all? Was it the hypnotic cadence of his voice? Its remarkable beauty? The need and hunger radiating from him when he was so close to her? Corinne only knew that when she was with him she felt as if she had always known him, always belonged with him. She reached up and touched his jaw, her fingertips caressing. "I can move objects by concentrating on them. I know I can be of help to you."

He captured her hand, brought her fingers to the warmth of his mouth. "You have a tremendous talent, little love, and I thank you for the offer, but I will make sure there is no danger to you before you get out of this car. It is of paramount importance to me."

She had to look away from his mesmerizing eyes. She could fall into his eyes and be trapped there for all time if she wasn't very careful. Outside the car, the wind was rising, bringing tendrils of fog. It rose off the asphalt in long tails, swirling into a thick mist as it gathered over the street. It came in fast, as if from the ocean, smelling of saltwater and seaweed. Corinne forced her gaze away from Dayan's to stare out into the street. "Look at that, Dayan. Have you ever seen fog come in so fast or so thick?" In a way it was quite frightening. She knew they could never drive the car in such weather; no one could see in it. The fog itself seemed strange, as if bizarre shapes and forms were moving in it. She could hear a sound, a continuous whisper of voices buried in the fog.

"You are shivering, Corinne. Do not fear the cover. It is only that. I can safely move around in it without detection." Dayan spoke softly as he always did, but there was something disturbing about his casual observation. As if thick fog were an everyday occurrence.

As if he could command the fog.

Corinne stared up at him, her eyes too large for her face. There were questions in her fascinated gaze, and answers in the steadiness of his return stare. The unblinking stare of a great jungle cat. Of a predator before it attacks its prey. Corinne moved, a subtle feminine retreat, but Dayan only tightened his hold on her. Her heart was pounding erratically again, loud in the silence of the fog-shrouded night.

"Corinne." He whispered her name. Or had he simply thought it so the sound brushed like the wings of a butterfly in her mind? His tone was sexy. Tantalizing. Intimate. He could make her insides melt with the way he said her name. He placed her palm over his heart, his hand covering hers. "Ssh, little love, listen to the sound of my heart talking to yours. You must learn to relax and breathe. Breathing is essential to your life, you know."

She inhaled; her heart was already following the strong pattern of his. She thought about that, the way he worded things. Essential to your life. Her long lashes lifted so she could study his face. Physically he was beautiful, sensual, very male. "Isn't it essential to your life?"

For a brief moment, humor flashed into his eyes, a fleeting glimpse only, and then his eyes were black and deep and fathomless. Hiding a thousand secrets. "Sometimes it is extremely essential. Like now. When I look at you, you take my breath away. It just happens. I find I cannot catch my breath."

Corinne found herself laughing in spite of her resolve not to. He was so outrageous, making her feel beautiful when she was pregnant. "I haven't noticed that peculiar phenomenon occurring. I'll have to pay closer attention."

"Then you must not realize you make my legs weak either." In the darkness, with the fog pressing close around the car and the strange insidious whispering, Corinne was grateful for Dayan's solid frame and the laughter he was generating.

"I think you're making things up just to get me to laugh and forget those men waiting in the darkness to hurt you." She was sliding her fingers up and down his arm absently. "I want to go with you."

His mind was a shadow in hers. She wasn't afraid for herself, she was afraid for him. She was determined to accompany him. "Meltdown." He whispered the word against her pulse, against her bare skin so that she felt him in her, deep inside. The word was a caress of black velvet, a sorcerer's tool.

Dayan felt his insides had gone into serious meltdown, turning his blood to molten lava. Thick and hot and moving through him with urgent demands. She was everything.

Light and laughter, serenity and poetry and hot, steamy sex. She was classy and sweet, she was elegance and candlelit nights and lace and satin. She was the purity of frothy waterfalls and cool, dark forests. There was a wildness buried deep within her that surged to the forefront when she was with him. A wildness that matched his own. He sensed that it surprised her because she hadn't known it existed. Yet she should have; it was there in her music, when she played so passionately, in the songs she wrote for others to sing.

Dayan drew her close to him, so that their hearts beat in the same rhythm, her heart matching his steadier beat. "You will stay in this car, my love, where the fog will protect and keep you safe. These humans cannot harm me. I will make sure they leave."

She recognized the "push" he used in his voice, the urge to obey that was nearly impossible to ignore. As irritated as it made her, Corinne was intrigued by the mesmerizing quality of his tone. Before she could really think about it, Dayan's mouth was capturing hers, whirling her away from anything as sane as thinking, removing every thought from her brain and replacing it with pure feeling. Then he was gone, slipping quickly from the car, leaving her sitting by herself, bereft.

Corinne drew her legs up onto the seat and nibbled at the tip of her fingernail. Dayan. He had crawled under her skin, wrapped himself around her heart, seeped into her soul so she couldn't stop thinking about him. Couldn't stop wanting to be with him. There was something different about him. Each time she thought she was close to the answer, he distracted her. He did it smoothly, casually, effortlessly.

She stared out the window and saw the thick fog. She could see nothing else, and the lack of visual cues gave her the illusion of floating in the sky, cushioned by billowy clouds. No one had the capability to command the sky, the weather. So why did she believe that Dayan had done something to bring in the mysterious fog? It wasn't natural. She had heard the whisper of voices, seen the shadowy shapes moving. It was frightening, yet he had gone out into it completely without fear, as if he knew he would come to no harm.

Why did he use such strange terms? She tapped her chin with her index finger.

Mortals.

He had used that word as if it were natural and meant something. He had said the humans could not harm him.

As if he weren't human.

Corinne shook her head, attempting to dislodge the thought.

Of course Dayan was human. What else could he be? An animal? He certainly had an animal quality in the way he moved. He was like a large jungle cat. There was something in his eyes, in the way his body moved. What was she thinking? A mythical cat person? Corinne let her breath out slowly. It was too crazy to be sitting in the dark allowing her imagination to run wild while Dayan was out there in the midst of killers. He didn't think he needed protection, but she knew she could help him if it was warranted. Resolutely she reached for the door handle. As she did so, her hand trembled and she found she stopped midway. She actually broke out in a sweat. Everything in her demanded she stay in the car.

Very carefully, Corinne pressed her palms protectively over her baby. She was missing something important; she just couldn't fit all the pieces together. Dayan was different, he had tremendous power, but it was more than that. Little things didn't add up. Things no one else seemed to notice about him. Things she found in him when their minds were merged. At first she only heard his voice, but more and more small details were finding their way into her mind. Strange images. Facts. Vivid, detailed images of history, of time periods long gone by. The images were blurred, but they were there in his mind.

Dayan stood quietly by the car with the fog enshrouding him, wrapping him tightly in its coils. He touched Corinne's mind once more, smiled to himself at the way she was working her way toward the truth. Corinne. His heart and soul. His very breath. Corinne had touched things in his mind each time he merged fully with her. His past. Wars and the growth of nations. Vivid details etched in his memories. Feats of strength. Various time periods. It was all part of what had shaped his character. His family. Darius. The vampires attacking their family unit because of the two females. Concerts. Thousands of concerts. Some given as wandering minstrels, others in football stadiums. Horse-drawn carriages and old-fashioned automobiles. Every memory shadowed by the dark of night.

Creatures of the night.

Their world.

Dayan placed his hand on top of the car, right above her head, knowing he was completely invisible, knowing she was worried about him. She was attempting to resist his softly whispered command for her obedience. His heart was melting at the idea that she was determined to protect him when she was so small and delicate, her health so fragile. His love for her, growing with each moment he spent in her company, was becoming an all-encompassing thing.

He stared down at his hand, holding the picture of the change in his mind first. His hand distorted, curled, claws extending where his fingernails had been, fur rippling over his skin. He moved away from the car as the transformation came over him. He reached for it, embraced it, reveled in the complete freedom. The creature had been there in her mind, sharing her thoughts. Cat person. He liked that. She had caught glimpses of his world, of the hunts using the body of a big cat to provide himself with sustenance. Inside the leopard's compact, sinewy body, Dayan smiled. She was closer to the truth than she knew. He was inexplicably proud of her for that.

Silently, the magnificent jungle cat moved on its large, padded paws through the fog-shrouded street. It walked on cushioned feet, confident in its incredible hearing and night vision. It commanded the nocturnal haunting realm; the night was its undisputed kingdom. Dayan used the leopard's body to "see" objects around him. He knew exactly where his prey was. In the body of the leopard, Dayan moved ever closer to the object of the hunt. His muscles rippled like sinewy ropes beneath his fluid skin as he crept near.

The man crushed out his cigarette beneath his boot and repositioned his shotgun across his lap. The fog was making him restless. It was thick, impossible to see through, yet he could swear there were figures moving in it. He leaned out away from the porch, listening as hard as he could for any sound of someone approaching. All at once he was nervous; a faint tremor started deep inside and spread throughout his body.

Nothing was out there, nothing he could see, nothing he could hear, yet he felt threatened. Stalked. Nervously he stepped off the porch, thankful the owners were away for a few days. It had been easy enough to find out that the couple was taking a vacation. This property was the perfect vantage point to keep an eye on the Wentworth home. He paced back and forth. Never once did he see the cat approaching him, its body low to the ground, creeping forward inch by inch. Silent. Deadly. Dilated eyes boring into its prey. Never once did the man suspect that an enemy far more powerful than he was only a scant few feet from him. When the attack came, it was fast and explosive. The animal was on him, its strength enormous, its claws grabbing and piercing his vulnerable throat in total silence.

The leopard leapt onto the roof of the house, taking the carcass with it. It cached its prey between a dormer and the sharp slant of the A-frame. Dayan had to wrestle with the instincts of the big cat, hungry for its prize. It had been harder and harder to defeat the darkness growing and spreading within him, yet now with Corinne in his life, making him complete, he was strong again. He had someone to live for, someone to love. Someone to make it all worthwhile. Dayan breathed deeply and directed the leopard back toward the street.

The jungle cat leapt easily to the ground, moving swiftly through the thick fog up the street toward the Wentworth residence. A man waited in Corinne's backyard for her to come home. He had a gun and a knife, and orders to bring her back to a laboratory or kill her. The cat could smell the man even through the thick fog. A second man was huddled in her doorway, with the same orders and the same determination. They were very alert, afraid even. Two of their friends had disappeared without a trace. The society wanted answers fast. The Wentworth women were going to provide them.

The leopard moved with the same calm confidence, the same silence as when it had begun to stalk its prey. The wrought-iron gate was cleared with one easy leap, and the animal landed softly on cushioned paws. The fog was moving now, small eddies at first, becoming a thick, swirling pudding with a life of its own. It brushed against the legs of the man in the yard. The man glanced wildly around, looking for something alive that might have touched him.

With an oath he paced from one side of the lawn to the other, peering down toward his feet. The fog moved again like a giant snake, wrapping loose coils around him from his feet upward. He was moving toward the house when he noticed the unusual phenomenon. With a pounding heart, he pushed at the vapor, and his hand traveled right through it. His relief was tremendous. "Mike?" He called out to his partner, suddenly wanting to get out of the oppressive fog. It was so thick, he felt as if he couldn't adequately breathe.

Mike, inside the doorway, heard the muffled call and turned, trying to see through the thick mist. "Drake?" He thought he saw a tall, pale figure moving in the fog, but it was vague and shadowy and not at all of the same build as his partner. Squinting, he leaned closer into the thick, soupy stuff, certain now there was more than one figure moving. He brought up his gun, trying to center on the amorphous, almost transparent shapes.

It was an animal, not a person, he decided, lowering the weapon. He was listening, but the strange fog cushioned the sounds so it seemed he was locked away from the rest of the world. Definitely not human, the shapes inside the white veil took on the forms of large cats. As he stared at them, nonplussed by the strange phenomenon, the cats seemed to turn to stare back, fixing glowing eyes on him. Red eyes. Eyes that flamed and seemed eerie and threatening in the midst of the fog. To reassure himself, Mike took a firmer grip on the handle of his gun even as he took a step backward to flatten his body against the wall, making himself as small as possible.

If it was an illusion, why was a cat moving forward, emerging out of the fog, staring intently, ferociously, at him? Its ropes of heavy muscle rippled like fluid beneath its mottled fur; its head was down, yet it never took its eyes off its prey. Mike tried to bring up the gun, his finger working at the trigger over and over in a desperate attempt to kill the thing, but his hand seemed paralyzed. The gun must have jammed. Nothing worked right.

He was still staring intently into the flame-red eyes when something hit him hard in the chest and he coughed once. It was the last sound he ever made. The leopard was so strong that when it attacked it crushed the man's chest even as its razor-sharp claws pierced his throat for the kill. The leopard dragged the body of the man out from the doorway and into the yard toward the other human.

Drake was fighting his way through the terrible bands of fog toward where he believed Mike was waiting. Coils of the stuff seemed to wrap around him as if he were a mummy. He thought he could feel the coils brushing here and there against his body, yet when he tried to shove them away, his hands went completely through the mist. It was a frightening feeling. He felt claustrophobic in the soupy stuff, and he hated the insidious whispers coming from inside the fog.

"Mike?" he found himself whispering, moving his feet carefully, cautiously, feeling his way through the grass. He was searching for the brickwork signaling he was close to the house. The toe of his boot hit something solid. It didn't feel like brick. Gingerly he felt around the object with his foot. A sick feeling began in the pit of his stomach. "Mike?" he whispered again as he bent down to feel with his hand.

Breath exploded from his lungs. It was Mike. Drake gasped aloud, swinging this way and that, his gun in his hand, his eyes wild as he searched for the enemy. With his free hand he explored the body, looking for a pulse. His palm landed in thick fur. He inhaled sharply, his hand moving of its own accord over the shape of a skull. The whiskers, the open mouth with sharp canines. Drake tried to scream, but the cat had already launched itself, burying its teeth deep in his unprotected throat before he could get off a warning. A sound gurgled deep, then died away.

Dayan shape-shifted immediately, catching the man in his arms, placing the gun in his waistband as he collected the second body. He took two running leaps with the men slung over his shoulders. Their weight was nothing to him as he soared through the sky under cover of the thick fog. He took a moment to snag the third body from the rooftop and once again headed for the forest miles out of the city.

It took minutes to dispose of the bodies the same way he had the other two. He incinerated them with a lightning bolt before burying them deep and strewing vegetation over the site so that it seemed undisturbed. The guns were buried deep in the earth with the ashes. Then Dayan returned to Corinne, dropping silently out of the fog beside the car.