Jacques’ teeth gleamed white in the semblance of a smile. He could not help but admire Mikhail’s coolness in the midst of a threat as lethal as the healer’s and the vampire’s combined. To be able to joke, to put aside the ego of the Carpathian male, was nothing short of a miracle. Fragments of memory rushed over him, memories of greatness, of a powerful being dedicated to the preservation of their people. His arms crept around Shea, his anchor to reality, his bridge from his lost past to the present. Shea responded at once, so in tune with him she needed no second hint. She leaned into him immediately, flooding his mind with warmth and soothing comfort.
“There is a root,” Gregori explained. “One can grind it into a fine powder, mix it with two types of berries and sage. It is boiled until it becomes thick, all liquid evaporated, and the remaining gel is then mixed with the venom from a tree toad. I am positive the vampire is using it. The recipe is an ancient one and lost to all but those of us who studied alchemy and black magic. I know of only two others besides me who would have this knowledge.”
“Aidan,” Mikhail said softly. “Or Julian.”
“It cannot be,” Gregori denied. “I would feel their presence in our land. Even changed, I would know either of them.”
“What exactly does this drug do?” Shea asked. The identity of the vampire seemed secondary; she was far more intrigued with the results of such a mixture as Gregori described. She had studied plants and herbs extensively. Common ones like foxglove and rhododendrons could produce paralysis. She knew, too, that toad venom of itself could be lethal. Certain tribes in various parts of the world had discovered its properties and used it to tip their darts, spears, and arrows. Somehow the blend of root and berries and toxin must paralyze the nervous system, even affect the mind. “How is it administered?”
“It has to be in the bloodstream,” Gregori said.
“Who could get close enough to inject a Carpathian? Even a vampire cunning enough to disguise his true self would not have the strength to overcome someone of Jacques’ stature. It is inconceivable.” Mikhail said. “Jacques was a hunter, a dispenser of justice. At the time the murders were decimating our people, he would have been doubly cautious.”
“The vampire tricked him. It is the usual weapon of a deceiver, is it not?” Gregori informed them calmly. “Dawn is here. We must hurry.”
The rain beat down into the silence; the wind shook the trees. Jacques stared sightlessly into the forest. Fragments of memory teased and whispered at him. “Blood. So much blood.” The words came out of their own accord. His fingertips stroked absently over his neck, a frown creasing his forehead. “It was a hunter’s trap, a crude, nearly invisible wire. It cut my throat.”
Nobody moved or spoke, not wanting to break Jacques’ concentration. Shea found herself holding her breath. Memory was so important to Jacques, and right now it might save Byron’s life. She could feel the pain splintering through his mind, felt him blocking it out, focusing his will to remember. He rubbed his thumb back and forth across an eyebrow, then frowned slightly. “I was weak. He came then, offered his blood. I did not want to offend him, but I was reluctant. He was... he disturbed me.” Jacques broke off, gripping his temples hard with his fingertips. “I cannot see him.” He looked at Shea with desperate, anguished eyes. “I do not know who he is.”
She wrapped her arms around him both mentally and physically, hating the worn, tortured lines etched into his beautiful face. Two days ago you could barely stand, could not remember anything. This is a miracle, Jacques. What you’ve accomplished is a miracle.She tried to reassure him, reading accurately that he loathed the fact that he could not eke out another detail.
“It is enough to piece it together,” Gregori said, his voice a soothing balm. He touched his fingertips to Jacques’ temples, inhaled slowly, and focused, sending himself outside his body.
Shea could actually feel the pain melting away, leaving Jacques whole and calm. The healer’s power was extraordinary.
She wanted it, felt it moving within her, rising to follow where the healer’s light led.
Gregori’s voice broke the spell. “You must have accepted his offer. The poison was in the betrayer’s blood.”
“What prevents the betrayer from being paralyzed?” Mikhail hissed it, a venomous sound that sent a shiver through Shea. There was something very lethal about all these men, something far different from their human counterparts. They accepted violence as easily as the animals in the surrounding forest did. They were predators. It was in the way they moved, in the way they held themselves, in their very thoughts.
Gregori made a slow circle of the porch. Shea found it interesting that all three men had positioned their bodies between the dawn and the women. “There are ways, but we have no time for such a discussion, for we must act now if we are to do this. Raven, while you were connected to Byron, could you get a sense of direction, anything at all?”
“He was not alone. He was somewhere underground, a cave maybe. It was damp, musty. He was not so very far from us.” Raven looked up at Mikhail with sad eyes, afraid she had not come up with the information they needed to find the Carpathian in time. One day in the company of the two human butchers and Byron was surely going to die a hideous death. Mikhail laced his fingers through hers, brought her knuckles to the warmth of his mouth in understanding and unity.
“The cellar, Jacques,” Shea suddenly said, excited. “They took him to the cellar. They can’t know this land very well, and they would go where they had already been successful. I know what they’re like, very arrogant, particularly the one called Don Wallace. It would be just like him to use the same place, thinking he was thumbing his nose at all of you.”
“It would be damp and musty all right, but they would find Jacques’ coffin gone. They would know the place had been disturbed recently,” Mikhail argued thoughtfully.
“True, but wouldn’t the vampire tell them Jacques is alive? He saw Jacques and me in the forest earlier with Byron,” Shea said. “They would feel safe because you’re all supposed to be under cover during the day, I’m telling you, this is exactly the kind of thing a man like Wallace would do. He believes you’re all vampires and can’t move in the daylight hours.”
“This Wallace,” Mikhail said softly, “he is the nephew of Eugene Slovensky, enemy to all Carpathians. We have met briefly before. I believe the young lady is correct. He believes he is smarter and more cunning than we.”
“Aidan would have done our race a huge service had he killed him when he had the opportunity,” Gregori observed. “We were hard-pressed that night, with Mikhail injured and Raven in the hands of madmen.”
“Maybe this Aidan had already turned?” Shea speculated.
Gregori shook his head slowly. “He had not turned then, nor has he turned now. He is powerful, such as Mikhail and I. The world would know if one of our stature had become the most feared creature of all. No, it is not Aidan. In any case, he has a twin brother, one even more powerful, who would know instantly had Aidan turned.” Gregori’s voice was low and smooth, filled with certainty.
Shea shook her head to rid herself of the hypnotic effect. Gregori’s power frightened her. His voice alone could do just about anything, produce any reaction in any of them. No one should have that kind of power.
“So why can we not detect the vampire when he is near?” Mikhail asked no one in particular. “I have scanned the area and can detect none of our kind, not even Byron.”
“Shea was able to detect the vampire when I could not,” Jacques said. “I was not certain I believed her at first, but I could feel as she did when we merged.”
Shea lifted her chin in challenge. “Do you think you can explain how all this was done, healer? How anyone could have done it?”