Konocti was Desari’s favorite place to perform. It was a smaller and more personal space than the huge stadiums she was usually booked to sing in. Desari liked the area, too, formed by volcanoes with hidden steaming pools and glittering diamonds scattered here and there. They had long ago established several bolt holes for each of them and could even have a semblance of privacy from one another.
“Stop the bus, Dayan!” It was Syndil who called out suddenly, urgency in her voice. “Take that little road off to the side instead.”
“We do not have all night,” Barack growled without looking up. “We are supposed to talk with the head of security, and, as usual, we are already late. Dayan, keep driving.”
Syndil’s slender frame began to shimmer. Desari gasped at the action. Syndil rarely defied the males, yet she was dissolving into mist, determined to seep through the open window into the darkened sky.
Barack reached out casually, a deceptively lazy-looking action when his hand had really blurred with speed. He caught Syndil’s long hair before she could disappear completely. “I do not think so, Syndil. You have not scanned or you would feel the dark empty spaces that can only mean one thing. There is danger very close to us.”
A small sound escaped Syndil’s throat as she reappeared in her solid form. “Do you not hear the cry of the earth to me? I can do no other than answer,” she replied softly. “Dark spaces mean nothing to me. Danger means nothing when the earth calls to me. Those things are for you and the other males to attend to.”
Barack looped a fistful of her silky hair around his wrist. “I know only that you are placing yourself at risk, and I am uncertain whether my heart can stand such a thing twice in two risings.”
“In my head I hear the cries of the wounded land, the burned trees. I cannot continue without aiding that which is dying. I must go,” Syndil said. “It is who I am, Barack.” It mattered little to her what the others said at these times. She could do no other than heal the earth when it was crying out in pain to her.
Dayan sighed softly, a little helplessly, and, with obvious reluctance, complied with her demand, slowly turning onto the dusty road leading into the mountains. It appeared to be an old logging road. Barack sat quietly, no longer protesting, but he didn’t let loose Syndil’s flowing hair, ensuring that she did not run straight into trouble. The bus rounded a curve, and Desari stared in horror at the sight.
The entire west side of the mountain was a blackened ruin. Dayan slowly eased the bus to the side of the road and came to a complete stop. He had no choice in the matter. Syndil had risen, ignoring Barack’s restraining hand. The male Carpathian sighed and rose with her, reluctantly allowing her hair to slide from around his wrist. Desari watched as Syndil pushed open the door to the bus. Her face reflected the same deep grief Desari had witnessed each time Syndil found the earth damaged in some way.
Julian stood, a frown on his face. He didn’t like the blank spaces in the area around them. He glanced from male to male, outraged that they would chance one of their precious women out in the open when she was so clearly threatened. Desari touched him lightly, a warning to be still. He glanced from her small restraining hand on his arm toward Darius. As always, the man’s expression was impossible to read. Darius was seeking outside of himself, obviously searching for anything that might threaten his family. It was out there. He felt it. All the males felt it, yet none of them seemed to want to stop Syndil.
Barack took the initiative, as he always did lately when anything involved Syndil. He shrugged his shoulders with his easy, fluid grace and sauntered with seeming carelessness after her. She was already moving through the twisted, charred acreage, her hands weaving a strange but fascinating pattern in the stillness of the air. She glanced over her shoulder at Barack, a slight frown on her face.
“Do you hear it, Barack? The ground is screaming in pain. This fire was set deliberately by something evil.” Syndil’s voice was soft and gentle, a mere whisper, yet all of them, with their acute hearing, could clearly understand her.
“Evil as in...” Barack prompted her.
“Not a fire-lover. Neither is it a human.” She had already turned her attention back to the blackened trees and soil, dismissing the source as unimportant to her. If the men wanted to deal with such a terrible being, that was their right and privilege. She was of the earth, was part of it, as surely as it was a part of her. She loved the soil, the trees and mountains. All of nature sang to her, wrapped her in loving arms. It was as necessary to her as breathing. Nothing could have stopped her from going forward to help her beloved earth.
Julian watched as she bent down and touched the charred soil with caressing fingers. He swore the dirt moved around and over her hand, wanting the contact with her. He found himself holding his breath, shocked at what he was witnessing. Where Desari’s gift was her voice, Syndil’s was evidently much different. She held a deep affinity to the earth itself, could cure what was diseased or damaged. He moved to the door of the bus and watched in awe as her hands buried themselves deep in the blackened soil, weaving the same beautiful and intricate pattern beneath the dirt so that above ground ripples began to shape themselves in an ever-widening spiral.
Julian stepped from the bus and moved to one side, careful to stay out of Syndil’s way. Desari laced her fingers tightly with her lifemate’s. Darius and Dayan were deploying as they always did, guarding the perimeter of the area, their attention on the skies above them and the trees around them. Something was out there, something that had set a trap, something evil that had known Syndil would be unable to resist the screaming of the earth.
Part of Julian could not turn over guardianship of Desari to the other males even for a moment. So he remained at her side and simply watched Syndil, fascinated by the ever-widening circle of richness, spreading, growing. The color of the ground itself was slowly beginning to change to a rich, fertile, deeper black unlike the charred dullness that had been there before. He became aware that Syndil was chanting in the ancient tongue. It was melodious and beautiful, the words an ode to the soil, the essence of the earth. He understood the ancient language, thought he had heard every poem, every lyric, every healing art there was. Yet this chant was completely new to him. Julian easily interpreted the words, found them to be mysteriously soothing, yet joyful. The words spoke of rebirth, of green growth, and glittering, silvery rain. Of tall trees and lush vegetation. He found himself smiling for no reason. Syndil had never looked more beautiful. She shone. Rays of light surrounded her for all to see.
Desari slipped her arm around his waist. “Is she not as I said? Magnificent. Syndil can heal the worst scars on this earth. Anything will grow for her. I am so proud of her abilities when I see her like this. Anything of nature responds to her. Yet it can be so hard on her; part of her takes on the pain of the destroyed forests, the soil.”
“Our women are truly miracles,” Julian said softly, more to himself than to her. None of his people had known of this. Not a single Carpathian male alive had known a woman old enough to have gifts such as Desari and Syndil displayed. Their remaining women were miraculous in the light and compassion they brought to the darkness of the man, but they were far too young, mere fledglings, to have developed their own powers.
He glanced down at Desari. She was looking up at him with unmistakable love shining in her eyes. His heart seemed to stop. His breath caught in his lungs. She was beautiful beyond anything he had ever witnessed in his centuries of living. When she looked at him like that, he felt something close to terror, something he had never experienced before. He had faced experienced vampires numerous times, had fought in wars, had suffered grave wounds that he had somehow survived, yet he had never felt fear or actual terror. Now it never seemed to leave him.