Dark Storm (Dark 23)

The ground wept drops of blood like honey dripping from a comb-a dark sorrow invading and spreading through the earth. She was dead! At long last, Arabejila was dead. If he could have done so without attracting the hunter, Mitro would have danced. He'd done it! He'd destroyed the one woman who could bring him down! He could barely contain his glee. He'd expected a bigger impact, the ground rolling and swaying in protest-or even trying to retaliate against him-but none had come. He had grown strong while she had grown weak. He'd sensed that over the centuries, that slow decline without her lifemate-without him. She hadn't been able to hold on as he had.

She had needed him to live, but she'd chosen to side with the arrogant Carpathian hunter, thinking they could defeat him. She'd chosen poorly. Once again he'd proven he was stronger, better, far more intelligent and cunning than the rest of them. The hunter and his whore had lost the game to Mitro's superior skills. He had known all along he'd outsmart them. He proved time and again he deserved the position as right-hand man to the prince, yet he'd been cast aside because the prince had feared him-feared others would recognize that Mitro was a born leader and turn against the prince.

Even as injured as he'd been from their last encounter, he'd managed to rise first-or maybe the hunter had been burned in the magma. He knew better, but it was a nice thought. No one could defeat him. Not the famous Danutdaxton and not Arabejila.

Now, with Arabejila dead at last, his victory almost made him giddy. He had to focus. He had everything he needed at long last. His quest had been successful, and he was invulnerable now. Nothing would stop him. With Arabejila dead and his newfound treasure in his possession, once he was out, there was no hunter who could ever destroy him. The world and all its riches would belong to him.

Mitro kept his movements slow and deliberate in spite of the urge to rush toward the thinning crust and push hard to get out. He had succeeded where so many others failed because he was patient and tenacious. They had made a terrible mistake, trapping him inside the volcano. They thought it a prison, a torture chamber, but he had grown into something else, something more. He found a treasure beyond price, and he had all the time in the world to plan his revenge-and his vengeance knew no bounds.

He still had to evade the hunter and get through the barrier Arabejila and her assassin had erected to keep him close to the center of the volcano. Over time he had tested that barrier, and over the past years he had thinned it in one place without the hunter noticing. He had been stealthy, staying away from the area for long periods of time and careful never to leave a trace behind. He had even worked at the safeguards in other places, determined this spot would be his true escape hatch should the others fail. This was his chance and he wouldn't risk losing it by giving away his position too soon.

Mitro couldn't chance another battle with the hunter. Just as he'd grown into something more, so had Danutdaxton-a relentless hunter he'd known since childhood. "The Judge," they called him. Even as a boy he'd been a serious warrior and everyone, including the prince, had made a big deal over him. Mitro had done his best to pretend to be his friend, but watching everyone grovel around him was truly sickening.

Mitro was intelligent-far smarter than Danutdaxton would ever be-and the prince should have seen that. All of them should have seen it. Mitro had been wronged so many times. They'd all been jealous of him-especially his brothers. They had said he was ill, that his heart was black, just because he didn't make clean emotionless kills as the Judge did. Mitro enjoyed watching the damned suffer. They deserved it. They'd been condemned, so why shouldn't he have a little fun after he took the time and effort to hunt them down? What business was it of anyone how he dispatched an enemy?

And humans were fodder. Food. Their women were fair game. He felt when he stared into their eyes and took their bodies without their permission while their men watched in horror. So helpless. Like children. Like the animals he ran across and spent hours torturing. The suffering, watching the life leave their eyes, it was all exhilarating. The prince and his brothers didn't want to admit they had the same nature. They weren't supposed to be civilized. The prince wanted to "tame" them, to subdue their natural predatory instincts.

Mitro had tried hard to make the prince understand the harm he was doing to their people. The men lost emotion because their true natures were suppressed. If he could feel without his lifemate, the woman who would cripple him, force him into a mold, take away the very essence of who he was, then so could the other hunters. The women hobbled them-turned them into rabbits when they were meant to be at the top of the food chain.

His brothers tried to stop him from advising the prince, cowards every one of them. They knew he was right, but they feared banishment and loss of status if the sniveling prince disagreed with him. Mitro had been unafraid. He knew he was right. He had the brains and the strength to do what had to be done. He could have anything he wanted, not live restrained by the dictates of a man without any vision.

But now-at last-things would be different. Arabejila was dead, and he would soon be free to rule the earth, as he should have done from the beginning. He floated, rising slowly, careful to exert no energy, knowing any disturbance would draw the hunter to him. He reminded himself how close he was, he just needed to do this right, move so slow, drift with rising gases toward the barrier and reach that very thin wall. He had to time it perfectly. Already he could feel the hunter on the move. He hadn't died then, but Mitro had known all along it wouldn't be that easy.

His heart jolted hard, sending an electrical charge through his body. The current robbed him of breath but gave him a deep satisfaction. He could feel what others could not. He had changed-evolved-to a higher purpose. His imprisonment had only made him stronger and more determined. He would escape and elude Danutdaxton. Without Arabejila to track him, the hunter had lost his edge.

Mitro's veins throbbed and burned; after all these years of suppressing his need for blood, the craving was more powerful than ever, and with it, the yearning to see that horror and revulsion, that terrible fear as he held life or death over his victim. He always chose the strongest of the warriors to kill, deliberately torturing them so the others would see how useless fighting him was. He could turn whole villages against one another. They would sacrifice their children to him when he demanded it. Their young daughters. Their firstborn sons.

He fed on terror. Fear was every bit as important as blood to him. He needed it the way he needed sustenance-delicious, delicious terror. The more he thought of people trembling before him, begging for their lives, the stronger the compulsion became. He'd been too long without food and he craved the fear-inspired adrenaline in his victim's blood when he drank.

He flexed his muscles as he continued to rise toward the barrier keeping him from the top of the volcano where he needed to be when it finally blew. Without Arabejila calming it, the explosion would be catastrophic, flattening and killing everything for miles. His plan was in place, and nothing would stop him now. Not some silly woman and not the Carpathian hunter. He would be free, and he would reign supreme!

The wind rushed down the mountain while towering black clouds chased to the top of the atmosphere, churning and boiling with a dark, ominous anger. Lightning forked across the sky, whips of sizzling electrical currents, snapping and crackling with a kind of rage. Beneath her hands, Riley felt the rising volcanic gases and with those noxious fumes, something else-something horrifyingly evil. These men had come with her and she led them into certain danger. If they remained where they were, and she couldn't slow the blast or redirect it, all of them would die.

"Miguel, you have to take the others and get out of here now," she ordered, already grabbing her mother's pack. "The volcano is going to blow. I can feel the pressure building in the earth."

More than that, she could feel the spreading triumph of evil running below the surface. If she hadn't fully believed the things her mother had told her before, she certainly did now. The malevolence was so acute, her stomach lurched. This was the source that had focused on murdering her mother. The porters were pawns, just as the insects and monkeys had been. Glee and triumph poured from the ground.

Tremors continued, the rain forest shivering constantly. Riley didn't wait to see if Miguel took her at her word-they all had to know an eruption was imminent. She began to run up the narrow trail leading up the mountain. She wouldn't make the entry to the cloud forest, but she'd get close enough. She glanced over her shoulder to see the men hesitating.

"Go now," she urged. "Run."

"Riley, it's too late," Gary called after her. He reached down and caught up her pack and raced after her. "You can't be on the mountain when it goes."

Riley didn't slow down or acknowledge his concern. If she couldn't ease the pressure in the volcano or redirect the blast, not even the archaeologist and his students would be safe. The explosion would be similar to a nuclear bomb going off, devastating everything for miles. She could hear Gary's boots pounding up the trail after her, and then those of a second man and a third. It didn't matter. She couldn't stop them. Each one had to make their choice at this point, and hers was to try to save everyone and make a last effort to keep whatever evil thing dwelled in the volcano trapped.

With every step she took she judged the shivering, trembling ground. How close? How much time? She had to make it as far as she could, yet still give herself time to connect with the volcano and perform the ritual. She would try to seal the evil within the mountain even as she calmed and directed the building volcanic eruption away from the travelers. She could only pray there were no other people on the other side of the mountain, because if she couldn't stop the blast, she'd try for a smaller eruption as far from them as possible.

The ground shook hard, the sound like a thunderclap, throwing her off balance. Gary's hand caught her arm to steady her and they ran together, Jubal right behind them. She wished they hadn't followed her, but a part of her was glad they had. She was fairly certain she wasn't going to make it off the mountain alive and their presence helped to give her determination and courage. She wasn't just fighting for herself. The next tremor, much stronger than the one before, lasted a long minute, warning her she had run out of time. She stopped abruptly and flung her mother's pack on the ground. "It has to be here. We're not where we need to be, but if we're lucky, I can do this."

"We can help," Gary said. "We've participated in a couple of rituals. Tell us what you need us to do."

Riley wasn't going to ask how they knew what to do when she barely knew herself. There just wasn't time, but if by some chance she managed to pull off a miracle, both men were going to answer a lot of questions. She yanked open her mother's pack and removed a small handheld broom made of bunched willow tied tightly together. Hastily she began to sweep out a circle large enough to hold herself and the three men. She moved counterclockwise, brushing the debris free while she whispered her prayer to the four elements, calling them to her as she worked.

Riley had seen her mother perform the ritual of holding the volcano many times, but now that it was her turn, there was so much she didn't know. She had to undo the strands of the evil power permeating the entire volcano and weave powerful strands of her own strong enough to keep the evil contained, holding it within its own constraints, and not allowing it to go free.

"Use the salt," she instructed Gary. "Follow the circle. Jubal, there's sage ..."

"Got it," Jubal said. He lit the sage and walked the circle three times, cleansing the area as he chanted softly under his breath.

"What the hell are you people doing?" Ben demanded. The ground shook continually, the tremors growing longer in duration and much stronger. "We have to get out of here."

"Try to catch up with Miguel and the others," Gary said without looking up. He continued to form the circle with the salt.

"No, whatever you're doing, I'll help," Ben said. "But this is insane."

"Can't you feel the evil?" Riley hissed. She could feel him now, real and powerful, coming at her in waves-his malicious triumph in the murder of her mother. He thought himself safe with her mother dead, and so far, he had no inkling she was on his trail.

"Keep working, Riley," Jubal said. "We'll explain as much as we can to Ben."

Riley was grateful. She had to shut out everything, even the terrible urgency of the moment. She had to find a complete calm and focus if she had any chance at all against so great an evil. She gestured to the men as she stood, inviting them inside the circle of protection just constructed. Even if she was defeated, hopefully she could make this small space safe enough to shield the others.

She walked the circle, envisioning the brightest light she could imagine, holding the black-handled, double-edged athame high. As the circle gained depth, Riley drew the quarters, setting the towers. She called to the elements. Air to the East. Fire to the South. Water to the West. Lastly, she whispered to the North, calling on Earth. Mother Earth. She forced her mind to concentrate on protections and block out the men moving around her.

Kneeling in the middle of the circle, she plunged her hands deep into the earth, focusing wholly on binding the evil. She struck fast and hard, using every ounce of strength she possessed.

"I bind thee darkness from doing harm.

To myself and those whom you would charm

I bind thee darkness to be free

As I lock thee away for none to see."

Reaction was instantaneous. Shock. Fear. Rage. Insects poured through the ground and raced at the circle, surrounding them, clicking and chirping aggressively. Bats flew at them from every side, but none penetrated that sacred circle. A heavy, oppressive malevolence pressed in on them. Lightning forked across the sky, a long howling bolt, sizzling and crackling through the night to slam to earth just feet from the circle. Next came a series of fireballs pounding down like a meteor strike as evil fought back.

Ben started to run, but Gary and Jubal both caught at him, holding him motionless.

"Don't leave the circle. This is the only safe place right now," Gary warned.

"And don't draw attention to yourself," Jubal added in a whisper. "It's fighting for its life. Either she can hold it inside the volcano or it will be loose on the world, and you saw just a little of what it can do from a distance. You don't want that creature interested in you."

Riley ignored them, barely aware of their presence. Without warning something moved against her throat, inside her body. Fangs ripped at her. Burning acid choked her. Claws wrapped in pure hatred raked at her. This was the creature who had murdered her mother, and it was fully aware of her now, and centering its attention on her.

She refused to allow loathing into her mind. This was her duty, her job. There could be no malice-she couldn't give him a way to enter her mind. Illusion was his game, but she was stronger.

Riley refused to give in to the need to touch her throat, to feel if the blood pouring out was real or not. She whispered another soft chant to chain the evil entity inside.

"I draw upon thee light, surround me with your might

Set this evil in the ground, keep me safe from that which seeks to harm

Find the sender, track him back, let the darkness return his attack

Let the fuse be short burning bright, let his evil fall short this night."

The evil entity pushed back hard, striking again and again at her throat. Raw. Burning. Torn open. Her breath barely pushed through her shredded vocal cords, the gaping jugular pouring out blood, soaking her clothing, splashing into the ground.

"Find him. Bind him. Hold evil chained.

Forged in fire. Hewn in rock."

The earth whispered to her. Assured and comforted her. Riley kept her hands buried deep in the soil, fingers curled into tight fists, holding that evil thing captured, refusing to let loose, no matter how he struggled, twisted and turned, no matter how he stabbed at her, trying to tear out her insides. Pain burst through her like a star, and she knew if she looked down she would see that her stomach had ripped open, her lifeblood pouring out onto the ground.

"I call upon spirit and earth. Create a cocoon from which there is no birth.

Fit this space with black crystalline, to encompass this evil, to hold and bind."

Arabejila. Emni han ku kod alte. Tõdak a ho a¦Äasz engemko, kutenken a¦Äasz engemko a jalleen. Andak a irgalomet terad it.

The voice filled her mind. Turned her blood to ice. Riley forced her fear down. She was in the circle of protection. She refused to be intimidated.

With effort, she managed to push aside her fear and concentrate on the words he'd spoken. He'd spoken her ancestor's name. She didn't understand the rest of the words, but instantly recognized the language as the same the porter had mumbled to himself over and over. This evil entity knew her-or, more likely, her ancestor-and believed she was still alive. That realization gave her an important bit of knowledge she hadn't possessed before. Whoever-whatever-this evil entity was, he wasn't all powerful and he made mistakes. Moreover ... alongside the threat in his voice, she heard fear. He feared Arabejila. Considering that she was the one who'd locked him in the volcano and kept him there for centuries, that made perfect sense. In fact, she might even be the only thing he did fear.

If the evil entity feared Arabejila, that meant he had reason to fear her and that meant he was vulnerable in some way. She took another deep breath and locked on to him, curling her fists tighter to hold him prisoner.

Another tremor jolted the mountain hard, throwing the men off their feet. With her hands plunged so deep in the soil, Riley felt the rising of the volcano. The blast would blow the top of the mountain away and flatten everything for miles. No one would be safe, not even the archaeologist and porters who had taken off earlier. They'd be caught as well as every animal and tribesman within miles. She had no choice but to try to calm the powerful force, and failing that, turn it away from them, redirect the blast if at all possible.

"Fire flame, show your light

Burning bright within my sight

Brightness burn deep within

So I may see where to begin

Bring me light as fire burns

So I may bind it with twists and turns."

She chanted the words softly, eloquently, her hands deep in the soil, stroking and calming the ground, easing her way into the churning mass of gases and molten rock.

"We have to get out of here," Ben shouted. "Right now. This thing is going to blow."

Jubal and Gary kept a firm grip on him, holding him within the circle.

"You can't outrun a volcano," Gary pointed out. "She's our only hope now. I have no idea how she can do it, but clearly the mountain responds to her."

"What the hell can she do?" Ben demanded.

Riley ignored them, channeling power and energy into the earth. The ground shivered and shook continually, and she could actually feel a force rising.

"Fire leads me to the light

Guide my hand as I fight this night

Show me how to find my fire

So I may guide this volcanic power."

She wasn't going to be able to stop the blast, but she could already feel the response to her presence. She had to use every bit of energy and power she possessed to harness the volcano, to guide it away from the others-and that meant letting go of the evil entity she held so tight. Closing her eyes, she made the decision. If they were all dead, he would escape anyway. She couldn't do both. She abruptly pulled away, sending up a silent prayer that the binding would hold even through a volcano blast.

She felt the instant echo of malicious glee, of taunting laughter. That failure couldn't matter. Now, it was all about redirecting the blast and calming the volcano and preventing a catastrophic event.

"Red like flame, amber light, diverts this fire and holds it tight

Sword and dagger, double-headed axe, dragon's blood hold this volcano's blast

Salamander who lives in fire, create a tunnel for this river of flame."

Ash spewed high into the air. Several vents shot steam high. Fiery rocks streaked into the air, small blowholes, as if the great mountain just had to express itself. Lightning zigzagged, great forks spreading across the sky.

Riley held firm, refusing to flinch. "Triangle lightning, use your light to hold all powers, adding strength to their might."

She took another breath, closed her eyes and sent her prayer to the sky and deep into the ground. "Mother Earth, your humble daughter seeks your aid once more. You are living, breathing, ever changing in your natural state. The fire roars in you, yet your daughter pleads with you to tamp down that fire and send it far from us. The release is necessary to the growth of this world, true, but we ask for this boon."

It was the best she could do. Either she'd calmed the volcano enough to minimize the damage, or everyone was lost.

Arabejila had totally deceived him. Mitro wanted to rip and tear into something warm-blooded. His rage grew as he struggled against the tight binds woven around him. She was far stronger than she'd ever been. Her touch hadn't been hesitant at all. Throughout the years she'd seemed to decline in strength, but now she was all powerful-a force he hadn't counted on.

She felt different to him, but it had been centuries since he'd tasted her hot blood-and that had been his one mistake. He should have killed her outright immediately. Once he'd taken her blood, he had locked them together for all time. Even then, he thought her weak, but she wasn't now. She hadn't flinched or pleaded with him. She had struck hard and fast without the least bit of hesitation-something she would never have done before.

Snarling, he gnashed his fangs together, anger and hatred feeding his strength. She hadn't even deigned to speak to him. He was her lifemate whether she liked it or not, his possession. He could choose to keep her alive or let her die. It was his choice. He was superior and always would be.

He struggled harder against the tight bonds. Arabejila had always had a connection to the earth, but it seemed stronger than ever. The moment she was forced to turn her attention elsewhere, he should have been able to break free, but the bindings held tight. He couldn't move, couldn't rise toward that barrier he'd worked so hard to thin.

He cursed Arabejila, cursed the fact that she alone had the ability to shake him up. He should have made certain she was dead. She was the reason the hunter had found him again and again over the centuries ... She'd trapped him here. She'd kept him here. And now she was the only thing standing between him and his triumph. She was truly the bane of his life, and if he didn't uncoil the chains she'd placed on him fast, he would be trapped for all time.

He renewed his efforts, concentrating on finding each strand binding him in his fiery prison. Arabejila had woven the spell tight, the earth itself adding to her weave. He had always found it utterly disgusting that all living plant life responded to her instead of him. He'd tried, in the earlier years, watching her walk through a field with flowers and plants springing up around her, to do the same, but the earth refused to speak to him. The rejection had been so total and so instantaneous, it had filled him with a loathing for all vegetation. He despised anything that would choose a weak woman over him.

Mitro had always considered Arabejila one-dimensional-good in every way. She didn't know how to be anything else. He studied the binding weaves chaining him inside the volcano. Those weaves told him much about his adversary. Arabejila had evolved over the centuries, just as he had evolved, and he found her much changed and more powerful because of it. More, her weaves only told him she was a force to be reckoned with, not anything personal about her. She had left no emotion behind to aid him in defeating her.

That rankled. She was supposed to be pining away for him. Her weaves should have contained sorrow and that ridiculous, futile dash of hope she couldn't suppress whenever they had come into contact in the past. No matter what he did, how depraved he'd become, she'd always clung to that tiny hope that she could "save" him. She'd never realized that he neither needed nor wanted to be saved. Stupid woman. He found it insulting that she thought she had the power to turn him into a cowering rabbit like the rest of his species.

Remembering those days, pure hatred welled up. He would destroy Arabejila in his time, but first he would have to escape. She would not defeat him, a stupid cow of a woman who thought she was special because she could make flowers grow.

The mountain jolted hard, and he felt a subtle difference almost immediately. Arabejila had turned her full attention away from him and the weaves binding him. He fought down the urge to struggle, to panic when the explosion could happen at any moment. He narrowed his concentration to one strand of his bonds. One at a time. He would have to break through that chain in order to escape.

Mitro tried to recall every detail he could about his recent encounter with Arabejila. He'd been shocked. Horrified even. He was so certain she was dead. She had not responded or spoken to him and he hadn't searched her mind when he had the chance. He stayed very still, reaching out carefully. If he knew what words had bound him, he could undo the weaves quite easily. He just had to get inside her head. She was his lifemate. Her blood would answer his call, but his touch would have to be delicate.

He tamped down all anger, not an easy feat when Arabejila was to blame for everything that had gone wrong in his life and he was already plotting to kill her and everyone she might care about. His touch on the thick weaves was very careful, seeking a tie to her. His blood stirred, but remained cold. Silence. Emptiness. There was no contact at all. If he didn't know better, he would say she was dead.

Puzzled, he changed tactics. The sense of urgency grew as the mountain rumbled and the gases spewed high. Below him, the gathering fiery storm threatened to break free. Abruptly he felt a difference, as if the weaves had loosened just that little bit as if she hadn't quite set them before she turned her attention elsewhere. She'd been gripping him hard, and now, that death grip was gone.

Triumphant, he struck hard, slashing through the weaves. They held, stronger than he expected against his all-out assault. He exerted pressure on his bonds, fighting panic, afraid his struggles might attract the attention of the hunter. Danutdaxton had become something much more as well, there in the volcano, and eluding him was essential.

The bindings tightened once, but then unexpectedly dropped free. Exalted, Mitro rose quickly toward the barrier and the one spot he'd spent centuries thinning. It would take seconds to break through, and when the volcano erupted, he would go out the vent with the gases. Elation swept through him. Glee. Triumph. Nothing, no one, could stop him.

Dax streaked through the furious volcano, moving as only a dragon could through the lower chambers, upward, toward the barrier. He felt the subtle difference in the earth, a pouring of comfort, a soothing hand stroking the volcano, easing the rising catastrophic explosion that would have blown the top off the mountain and flattened everything for miles.

Arabejila? He sent his inquiry, but he was positive she had been long gone from the earth. He'd felt her passing. He'd felt the mourning of the mountain when she was gone. His blood should have called to hers had she been alive. Still, the feel of her, the welcoming, the power-it was all there. More so.

Silence greeted his call. Had Arabejila been close-and he knew someone was trying to soothe the volcano-their blood exchanges would have allowed him to reach out to her. They'd been friends long before Mitro's betrayal, but their centuries of traveling together had deepened that friendship even further. Being around Arabejila had allowed him some emotion. She had been unique that way, providing solace to the warriors of their people-and Dax had practically been born a warrior. He had a gift for ferreting out evil. He could smell it, see it inside, and from the moment he'd met Mitro he'd seen inside to his rotten core.

The volcano whispered to him as he moved through the scalding chambers, told him of a woman, powerful, healing, a true daughter of the earth. Dax knew the moment she plunged her hands into the soil-the volcano responded with a flutter of activity. He felt the instant reaction, not only of the volcano, the soil, the very heart of the earth, but in his own blood. Familiar, yet unfamiliar. Arabejila, yet now-more. This woman was a force to be reckoned with. Where Arabejila was soft through and through, this woman had a core of heat and fire.

He continued to streak through the labyrinth of lava-formed tubes and hollowed caves, moving up toward the barrier. No doubt Mitro thought he could escape with the explosion of the volcano, right through that small space the vampire had worked centuries to thin. Dax had never let on he was aware of Mitro's work.

He never caught the undead working to thin the barrier, and all traces were removed, but Mitro hadn't counted on one thing-the intense blood bond between lifemates. Mitro had deliberately filled the mountain with his evil, so it would be impossible for Dax to detect him, not with his scent permeating every razor-sharp rock and molten pool. He had done so too late for this one escape hatch. He hadn't considered that Arabejila and Dax had exchanged blood so often throughout their hunt for Mitro over the centuries, and when he'd first started the thinning process, Dax could use that blood bond to hunt him. Dax had marked the spot in his memory.

Arabejila's blood continually called to Mitro's, and as the earth claimed Dax more and more as her child, his blood had begun to do the same. He had only to listen. Now, with the soul of the dragon dwelling in him as well, he had an added advantage he hadn't before-his senses of sight and smell were far above what they had been. The heat of the volcano fed him rather than drained him. The Old One and Dax had become better at sharing the same body and all senses. Right now, he knew exactly where Mitro was. He could feel the vampire struggling against the bonds the woman placed on him.

Mitro had positioned himself right at that narrowed barrier, right where Dax was certain he would. Dax sent a small thanks to the woman and to Arabejila. At long last he would destroy the vampire and his duty to his people would be done. He would be free to go to the next life. He moved quickly, rising steadily, winding his way through the maze of miles of chambers. Magma pools bubbled ominously. Steam and heat swirled together to create a dense fog. He used the dragon's eyes to see his way through the storm, racing the volcano to reach Mitro while he was still trapped.

The volcano took a deep breath, the whirlwind stilling, a terrible calm heralding a violent storm. Dax felt the exact moment when the woman turned her attention from holding Mitro to suppressing the catastrophic explosion. He couldn't blame her, she had people to save-just as he did. He pushed his speed, rushing through the last two chambers leading to that point of weakness where he knew Mitro would be.

He heard Mitro's gleeful snicker as the bonds broke loose and he streaked for the thin spot in the barrier. Dax hit him from the side, slamming into the body of the undead, driving him down and away from his goal.

Mitro shrieked in frustration and anger, trying to twist away, to get distance between them. Dax was too strong, too fast and he stayed close, chest to chest, driving his fist deep, penetrating through muscle, bone and tissue to drive for the heart.

Dax stared into Mitro's all-black eyes, the eyes of insanity, a monster without a soul. He'd been born defective and he'd purposefully destroyed every good thing in his life. Dax felt the edge of that withered, blackened heart. Diamond-hard nails ripped deep, tearing through the vampire's chest in an effort to surround the one organ that would ensure Mitro's demise.

Mitro screamed and thrashed, his talons raking at Dax's face, gouging long furrows from eye to jaw. He slammed his own fist deep into Dax's chest, trying to reach the hunter's heart before the Carpathian could extract his.

Hot melting rock erupted through the chamber, rocketing high, smashing into the barrier erected by Arabejila. The heat was so intense the barrier clearly was melting and along with it, their skin. Mitro's face drooped as if it had grown too thin, sliding from his skull and bones. Dax knew his own skin, acclimatized to the volcano, could not long withstand the enormous heat from the very core of the earth. It didn't matter.

Nothing mattered but destroying Mitro. The vampire could tear out Dax's heart and throw it into the bubbling orange and red pool of hot rock steadily climbing toward them, and it would be well worth it as long as Mitro was gone from the world. Dax's fingers dug deeper, reaching for the vampire's heart, as Mitro tore a wider hole in Dax's chest. For a moment it felt as if the vampire was ripping through his body with a dull knife, but Dax cut off all pain and focused on the job at hand.

Dax closed his fingers around the blackened heart and began to extract it. The vampire shrieked, maddened, enraged, ripping at Dax's face and eyes with one hand while he continued to tunnel his hand into Dax's chest in an effort to kill him before it was too late.

Dax pulled the heart free of the body and, looking straight into Mitro's eyes, let the useless organ drop into the fiery pit below. He felt no animosity toward the vampire, he felt no triumph or sadness. The decayed organ incinerated the moment it hit the bubbling cauldron of melted rock.

But instead of collapsing, lifeless, in Dax's arms as the vampire should have once his heart was destroyed, Mitro's lips drew back in a parody of a smile, his blackened receding gums and jagged, stained teeth snapping together with an ominous clicking sound. Triumphant, vile, and still very much alive, the vampire abruptly leaned forward and sank his teeth into Dax's throat.