“The human is dozing.” Mikhail probed the mind of the unseen man carefully. “He is supremely confident that he will be undisturbed.”
Gregori, too, was probing the human. “I like none of this, Mikhail. It seems too easy. The vampire knows we can travel in the early morning hours. Our powers might not be at full strength, but even diminished, we can handle humans easily.”
“You stay out of sight, Gregori, watch our backs,” Mikhail cautioned. “I will instruct the human to open the cellar and allow us in. Jacques and I will test for a trap.”
“Jacques and I will go inside, Mikhail. We cannot risk your life. You know that.” Gregori did not wait for a response. He had spent most of his life guarding Mikhail, the dispenser of justice for his people. Even with his lifemate so close to existence, Gregori would not back away from this duty. He seized the human’s mind with ease, demanding information.
Jeff Smith woke abruptly, a pain in his head, uneasiness gripping his very soul. In his mind was something that did not belong to him, something powerful that demanded every detail of the past few days, insisted on a blow-by-blow replay of the past few hours. He tried to resist, but the thing was far too powerful to ignore. He went over every detail. The vampire bringing the paralyzed Carpathian, Donnie burning and slicing the victim, Slovensky laughing and egging him on. The vampire standing emotionless, watching with empty eyes and frankly scaring the hell out of Jeff. Donnie and Slovensky going for supplies, whispering to each other and the vampire.
The vampire promised no one would be able to find them; his spells would safeguard the makeshift dungeon until nightfall. The other vampires would be trapped in the ground until night. Jeff was safe and could torment their victim at will. Smith wished he had the woman, the red-haired doctor. He had delicious thoughts of what he would do with her for long hours at a time.
Jacques made a sound, not aloud but in his mind, and immediately broke all contact with Shea. She could not witness the demon rising in him. Already fangs were exploding in his mouth, and the red haze demanding a kill was spewing upward with violent, murderous intent. A low, warning growl escaped him, and he hissed at Gregori to warn him off his kill.
Mikhail moved to intercept his brother. “We have need of this man.”
Gregori placed himself firmly between the two Carpathians, recognizing immediately that Jacques’ tattered mind was focused on only one thing. Donot try to interfere, Mikhail. He will attack you. He is not healed, and he is very dangerous. We cannot control him, and he has shut out the woman. She is his only hold on reality. We cannot save this human.He shrugged as if to say it didn’t matter to him one way or the other. And it didn’t. If Mikhail had not been with them, Gregori would have already dispensed his own brand of justice.
Smith felt something take a firmer hold on his mind. This was not the same as the demand for information. This was an attack by an alien being, a grip of steel that felt as if it would crush his very skull. Smith cried out, whirled to face the broken man lying so seemingly helpless before him. The eyes were open, staring at him, pain-filled, malevolent even, but his victim appeared near death. The vampire had assured Jeff that this one was quite paralyzed in body and mind, that he could feel the pain inflicted upon him but could not cry out for help to others of his kind or harm the humans in any way.
Smith picked up a knife, still crimson with the victim’s blood, and took a step toward the bloody coffin. Instantly he was slammed against the wall by an unseen force, and the knife twisted toward him. Screaming, Jeff dropped the weapon. His head buzzed with pain. Whatever it was, was outside, demanding that he open the door. He clapped both hands to his head, trying to resist the compulsion, but his feet were already moving, obeying the unseen dictator.
The being snarled in impatience and applied more pressure. Jeff knew he was letting in his own death as he made his way up the rotting stairs to the heavy door. His every step brought those razor-sharp teeth closer and closer to his throat. But he couldn’t stop himself. The being sent the clear picture to his brain, yet he couldn’t stop himself. His hand was on the door. He shoved.
The wooden door exploded upward, and two clawed hands seized him, dragged him into the pouring rain. Thunder cracked, and a bolt of lightning hit a tree, split it in two with a deafening sound. A shower of sparks erupted. The earth fell away as Jeff was jerked skyward. He recognized the face now, the man he had once tortured for days. The man they had purposely buried alive seven years earlier.
Those black eyes had promised death, had haunted him for years, and now they were ice and fire, rimmed with red. Teeth gleamed white, sharp and dripping. Jeff screamed as the hot breath burned his neck. He felt the teeth tearing into his flesh, exposing his jugular. Hot liquid spilled down his chest, and he looked down to see his own blood spraying out. And then the creature was consuming him while his heart stuttered to stay alive and his mind cried out for another chance.
All around him the ghosts of the women he had raped and killed, the men Donnie had encouraged him to torture, floated into his mind. The rain beat down on his upturned face. The creature dropped him into the mud with a sickening thud. Jeff squirmed, tried to crawl, turned his head to see a wolf approaching from the timberline. He tried to make a sound, but there was only a gasping wheeze.
Jacques crouched down and looked him in the eye, completely dispassionate, watching the glaze creeping into the depths of Jeff Smith’s staring eyes. “You go to a hell you deserve, human,” he whispered contemptuously into the dying man’s mind.
Jacques stayed crouched beside the man, red flames burning in his eyes, the demon in him roaring and hungry for retribution. He knew Byron was trapped in the cellar, that this human and his friends had tortured the Carpathian male just as they had tortured him years earlier. Adrenaline and power pumped through his body.
Mikhail paced back and forth nervously. Jacques was more animal than man, acting on the age-old instinct of the predator. Low growls continually rumbled in his throat, something Mikhail was certain his brother was not even aware of.
Jacques bent low, caught the bloodstained shirt, and dragged the human closer, his need for death erupting. The call was wild and strong. Every word Shea had spoken concerning this man and his partner and what they had promised to do to her echoed in his mind. The need of the Carpathian male to protect his mate and the hunger for retribution urged him to feel every moment of the taking of life.
Mikhail could see the war raging in Jacques. It would be a difficult thing for him to live with, the taking of blood during a kill. Gregori and he had both done it, but the rush was addicting and dangerous. In Jacques’ state, it could be forever damaging. He approached cautiously. “Jacques, do not do this thing. You have too much to lose.”
Jacques whirled on him, baring teeth, a warning rumble bringing Gregori to once again insert his body between them. “Leave him, Mikhail. If he makes the kill and consumes the rest of the idiot’s blood, it is only what they owe him. He is no longer a child you must protect.”
Mikhail swore, angry with Gregori for dismissing the urgency of the act. Too many had been lost at just such a moment. Mikhail had thought Jacques lost to him once; he did not want it again. He also knew Gregori well enough to know he would have to try to go through the ancient’s body to get to his brother. Gregori believed Jacques a danger to all of them. With a sigh he resigned himself to the inevitable.
Gregori watched the fight go out of Mikhail and turned his attention to Jacques, simply waiting for the decision to be made.