“No. Very few remain. They are guarded at all times, as they should be. It is almost unheard of for a woman to be unattached after her eighteenth year.”
Darius swung around to stare at Julian. “This is the truth? Eighteen is not yet a fledgling—in truth, yet a child. How can this be?”
Julian shrugged his broad shoulders. “With so few women, so few children born to our kind and surviving, with little hope and so many males on the verge of turning, it is the only safe thing to do. Any unclaimed woman is too unsettling.”
“But the woman could not possibly hope to contend with a powerful male at such a young age. She would barely have had the time to learn the most simple of our gifts. How could she develop her own talents and skills?” Darius sounded a bit disgusted with the males of his own race.
Julian’s golden eyes glittered for a moment. “If you found one who gave you back colors and emotions, who brought your dead soul to life and showered it with light, would you be able to walk away from her because she was yet a fledgling? Perhaps her skills are not developed, but her body is that of a woman, and any male under the circumstances would be more than happy to spend centuries aiding her in the learning.” His body was beginning to shimmer, to dissolve into tiny droplets of moisture. “What are you waiting for, old man? If you did not get enough sleep, I assure you, I can handle this task on my own.”
“Old man?” Darius echoed. He made his own transformation with astonishing speed. The sun, although it was sinking, was still bright enough to hurt his sensitive eyes. He had noticed that Julian blinked and squinted a bit, but his eyes weren’t streaming in reaction as Darius’s were. “I have to ensure you do not meet with any more near misses.”
A layer of fog streaked across the sky, racing the sun toward the cliffs. Julian’s iridescent colors intermingled with Darius’s, and the cliff soon loomed before them, an intimidating sheer rock wall. Julian solidified, arms folded across his chest, watching with interest as Darius began to weave a strange pattern along the layers of granite. Darius moved unhurriedly, as if he had all the time in the world, as if he were unconcerned with the sun sinking or the vampire awakening.
The vampire was locked deep within the cliff wall, but he was very much aware of the two hunters prowling so close, aware of the exact position of the sun and of how much time he had before he could arise. His lips were drawn back in a snarl of hatred, his jagged teeth stained dark from killing while taking blood. His skin was waxen, ashy, drawn, stretched tightly against his skull. His arms were crossed over his chest, his long yellow fingernails like spikes. His venomous hiss was a vow of vengeance and loathing. He could only wait, locked within the prison of the stone and his terrible weakness, while outside the creatures hunting him scratched and sniffed at the entrance to his lair.
Julian was intrigued with the ease with which Darius unraveled the safeguards the vampire had set. Darius moved with great confidence yet was unhurried by even the setting sun. He seemed absorbed in his work, as if it commanded his complete attention, but Julian was not deceived. Darius was aware of the danger they were in.
As Darius continued weaving his strange pattern along the cliff, a faint line began to take shape, zigzagging across the face of the rock. With an ominous rumble the line began to deepen and widen into a crack. At once scorpions began to boil out of the crevice, thousands of them, large and hideous, rushing at Darius. As Darius moved to avoid the cascading fall of poisonous insects, the ground rolled, heaved, and buckled, throwing him directly into their path. Julian jerked him up and out of the way, launching them both into the air as the vampire’s guardians swarmed along the ground.
Darius glanced skyward, and lightning arced from cloud to cloud. He gazed steadily at the sizzling streaks, building the energy until he could gather it into a bright orange fireball and direct it straight into the scurrying mass of scorpions. At once there was a stench as the insects blackened into charred ashes.
When Julian settled once more to earth, Darius went right back to work as though the interruption had never taken place. Julian watched the strange pattern, intrigued by the work he had not experienced in his long centuries of hunting. He had to admire the fluid grace Darius exhibited, his sureness and confidence, his lack of hesitation. His own heart was beating out a rhythm of excitement and dread.
Was this the one? Was a certain ancient evil waiting inside this lair, waiting to claim the pupil he had long ago so skillfully wrought?
“The ground.” Darius spoke the words softly. Julian nearly missed them, even with his acute hearing, so deep was he in his dark memories.
“Excuse me?” Even as his own words slipped out, Julian was heeding the warning, studying the earth beneath them carefully. Darius had not looked away from the cliffside, working at the safeguards so that the crack expanded, the rock face creaking and groaning as it was forced to spread apart. Julian caught a movement—so fast and subtle, he nearly missed it—as it passed under Darius’s feet, raising the soil a scant half inch as something streaked beneath the surface.
Then a tentacle erupted but three inches from Darius’s shoes, wiggling obscenely, blindly seeking prey. Julian instantly battled the vampire’s writhing demon root. He withered each appendage as it burst through the soil seeking Darius, who was seemingly oblivious to the entire battle, working efficiently even as the lashing tentacles attempted to wind around his ankles. Julian hastily destroyed the repulsive thing.
As the last wriggling tentacle withered into ash, a huge bulb erupted a few feet from Julian, its mouth yawning wide. A spray of greenish-yellow liquid spewed toward Darius, who held himself still, widening the crevice, revealing the hidden chamber within, relying on Julian to defend them from the latest menace. Julian blasted the bulb with a laserlike burst of fire from the sky, incinerating it before the acid spray could touch Darius.
“The sun,” Julian reminded him, aware of its low position in the sky, seeing the reds and pinks of sunset stain the heavens.
“There is no way to hurry this procedure,” Darius replied softly. “The undead is aware of us and sends his minions to delay us.”
Julian reached out for the mind of their hidden opponent.
You are weak, evil one. You should not have challenged one so much stronger than you. J am of ancient and powerful blood, undefeated these centuries by those far more learned in the arts than you. There is no way to win. You are already defeated.
Out of the darkened interior of the chamber rushed an army of large rats, leaping for the two Carpathians with a savage ferocity fed by starvation and compulsion. With his desperate, cunning mind, the vampire orchestrated the pack’s vicious attack. Julian realized the rats were charging Darius. The vampire was prepared for this dark one, but perhaps he had not comprehended that another hunter, too, was stalking him. The rats were charging Desari’s protector, suggesting that Dara
was
the undead’s ultimate goal. With a savage satisfaction, Julian leapt over the thick mass of furred bodies and made his way into the belly of the mountain.
The ancient he had spent lifetimes searching for was not in the lair; he would have immediately recognized Julian, his voice, his blood, the shadowing. Still, the merciless fury drove him inward, seeking his prey. This one would not escape.
The walls of the narrow tunnel bulged with razor-sharp, jagged spikes, erupting unexpectedly right, then left, as the vampire threw obstacles in his hunter’s path to delay him. The vampire was aware of the peril approaching