«The knife looks so harmless, doesn't it?» Natalya asked. «And yet looks can be deceptive. It's been used countless times to murder.» Her hand hovered over the blade and trembled. Natalya pulled back.
The sun had set and both she and Vikirnoff had bathed in the hot spring water after making love. It had been difficult for her to avoid taking his blood. She craved it more than ever, as if he were a drug she was addicted to and now, with the knowledge that Razvan was still alive, the idea of becoming a Carpathian held both comfort and promise. They were both dressed in the clothes Vikirnoff had fashioned for them. Now, there was only one last task that stood in her way; touching this knife, accessing the violent memories that clung to the ceremonial weapon.
«I have fed and I am here as your anchor to hold you to this world and this time.» He stroked a long caress over her hair. «The safeguards are in place and my duty to Gabrielle has been done. Falcon has given her the second blood exchange and we have all answered the call to heal her. This is our time, Natalya. Find out what memories the knife holds and hopefully we will have a clue to where the book is hidden. Once we retrieve it we can take the book to a safe place where it can be destroyed or guarded adequately.»
Natalya took a deep breath and let it out. «Reading the knife will not be easy, Vikirnoff. We will live the memories of those that died on its blade.»
His hand slid up her arm to her shoulder, fingers massaging gently. «I know this is difficult for you. If I could, I would do it for you.»
She sat there with the candles flickering all around her and the knife in front of her. The sound of the water lapping at the edges of the pool soothed her and Vikirnoff's presence made her feel protected. She had «read» objects hundreds of times, yet she was reluctant to relive the death of her grandmother and worse, the murder of her father, even with Vikirnoff there to aid her. «You believe I can do this.»
«I know that you can.»
«Before I do, I want you to know I'm not mad at you anymore.»
His eyebrow shot up. «Were you angry with me?»
She scowled at him. «Yes, I was angry with you. Sheesh! You didn't even notice?»
«We made love a dozen times, more even. You bit me a few times and there are scratches on my back, but I enjoyed you putting the marks there.»
«That's because you're a pervert. And I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about your ridiculous and totally arbitrary decision to bind us together.»
«Natalya?»
«What?»
«You sound angry.»
«Well, of course I'm angry. You didn't even notice that I was angry in the first place. Do you realize how upsetting that is? All this time I thought you were suffering because I was mad at you, but you didn't even notice.»
«I am sorry. I should have been more observant.»
«You don't sound sorry.» She ran her fingertips around the knife and held her palm above the blade testing the strength of the vibrations of violence. «In all honesty, Vikirnoff, I really don't want to do this.»
«I know. And I understand. No one wants to relive the torture and murder of their parents or grandmother.»
Vikirnoff knelt behind her, knowing she was working up her courage, chattering to cover her hesitation. «I will take the journey with you. When memories become too much to bear, I will do what I can to lessen the pain.»
«What if you're trapped there with me and we can't pull out until every kill has been reenacted? It was your strength that allowed me to get away from the past.»
His arms enfolded her, his hands sliding down her arms to envelop her hands in his. «You feel the violence of the knife's past without touching.»
Natalya leaned against his chest, allowing her head to rest on his shoulder. «Yes, but I'm not reading the memories.»
«I want to hold the knife in my hand with your hands around mine, so that your fingers brush the knife, but limiting your physical contact with it. Perhaps that will minimize the risk to you.»
Natalya took a breath and let it out, trying to still her chaotic mind. She'd rather battle ten vampires than read what the knife offered, but all the wishing in the world wasn't going to change what had to be done. «Let's try it, then, Vikirnoff, but if you feel that you can't get
us out, drop the knife.»
«I will.»
His breath was warm and comforting on the back of her head as she bent forward again, allowing her to feel his presence without distracting her. She laid her hand over his and nodded to let him know she was ready.
Vikirnoff reached for the knife. She felt her own heart beating, strong and steady, beginning to accelerate. Her muscles began to knot painfully.
I am with you.
She felt him, strong and solid behind her, his arms around her, there for her. With her– and that meant everything. She drew courage from his presence and her fingers brushed the handle of the knife. Instantly she felt the curving of time, the wrenching pull that dragged her into the past and deeper into the violent memories the knife contained.
The concentrated fear of so many victims rushed toward her, surrounded her and invaded her mind and soul. Immediately she focused on the feel of Vikirnoff's hand, the shape and size of it, the warmth of his skin. The mounting terror lessened enough for her to slide past, reaching for the reenactment she needed. There seemed to be so many souls wailing with grief and crying for justice. She knew whatever the knife needed to show her had to have occurred farther in the past before her father's death. He had to have hidden the book and spilled blood on the knife.
My father wouldn't have sacrificed someone to leave behind the information. The reenactment would be much fainter than the ones with more violence. That would explain how I missed it the first time.
Slow down. You are moving so fast I cannot catch even glimpses of what has occurred.
I feel the level of violence and know it is not what I want and I don't want to know what else Xavier has done or whom he killed… Her voice trailed off and she halted abruptly to find herself in the crystal cave. She looked around her carefully.
What is it?
Razvan. I feel him. His presence is strong in this time period.
Vikirnoff inhaled sharply, wanting to tighten his arms protectively around Natalya and order her out of there. How long ago was this?
I can't tell. Recently, I think. I haven't felt the presence of my father yet.
Vikirnoff's instincts shrieked at him. This is unnecessary. You do not need to witness any violence Razvan commits. Keep moving, Natalya.
She wanted to see her brother. She wanted to witness with her own eyes his betrayal. It seemed the only way to make herself believe that he had gone over to the side of the vampires, to Xavier, was to see the extent of his betrayal. Stubbornly she watched as her brother sauntered into the ice chamber. He carried the ceremonial knife in his hand and his eyes were glittering with some fierce emotion.
You cannot. Vikirnoff inserted a mild push into his voice, not wanting to take command of her, but the taste in his mouth was bitter with warning. Razvan looked far too much like Xavier in his youth; a madman bent on accumulating power over others. Xavier had grown in power and stature very quickly with his natural talent and he became convinced that he was destined to rule the world. The corruption of a once-great sorcerer was complete when he discovered the rush of power the taking of life gave him. Furious that the Carpathian race seemed to be immortal, something he was not, he grew to despise them with a fanatical hatred that fed his own ego and determination to stamp them out once he had gained the secrets of their blood. Razvan wore that same, smug, contempt-filled expression.