Jacques smelled the beckoning blood. His hunger was sated, but the taste of fear and adrenaline, the need for revenge, were burning in him. The rushing high consumed him, yet the cool wind that was Shea anchored him to reality. His body shook with the need to consume while he killed, to feel the life seep out of the man. Reluctantly, he allowed the man’s shirt to slip from his fingers. Jeff Smith could die at his own pace, and Jacques would forego the ultimate power of the kill. He took a slow, deep breath and moved away from the broken body, watching his brothers, the wolves, move toward his victim. He shook off the demon, fighting every inch of the way to get himself back under control. It took long moments before he was able to see the two Carpathians as friends instead of enemies.
Gregori nodded at him, then turned and entered the cellar cautiously, inhaling the stale air, careful of any hidden traps. The place smelled of blood and fear, sweat, and the stench of burned flesh. Byron lay in a blood-splattered coffin, his body a thousand cuts and raw, charred flesh. His eyes found Gregori immediately, became anxious and desperate. Gregori tried to reach him on the common path of Carpathians, but Byron’s mind was frozen; it was impossible for him to move or communicate. But for the desperation in his eyes, Gregori would have dismissed the cellar as harmless to any of their kind.
Jacques entered the place of death uneasily, the stench sickening him. He caught the warning Gregori silently sent him and did not approach the form in the coffin. It was too easy. The vampire had known they would come, and Jeff Smith had been an unsuspecting sacrifice. The other two humans had probably known it also.
What do you think?Gregori wanted to know.
Jacques had to fight to keep himself under control. His body shook continually, and the need to kill was still burning brightly in him. It was hard to think, to concentrate. He was aware of the wolves outside and the joy in them as they tore into the carcass. He felt connected to their simple way of life. They called to him to join them, to hunt and feed.
What do you think, Jacques?Deliberately Gregori used his name to call him back from the need to run wild, to hunt and kill and be truly free.
Something is not right.Jacques had no idea what it was, but he was certain there was hidden danger.
Byron’s eyes were eloquent, obviously trying desperately to communicate something. As Gregori stepped closer, he seemed more agitated, the blood spewing from his wounds.
“Be calm, Byron, go to sleep. No vampire is going to catch us in his trap. Mikhail waits outside. There are three of us.” Gregori’s voice was beautifully pitched, pure and soothing. “Drift off, slow your heart, and allow your body to hibernate. I will take you somewhere safe to heal. My blood is powerful. You will heal quickly.”
The blood pumped out as Byron became even more upset. Gregori’s voice softened until it was the wind and the water, the earth itself. “Jacques has exchanged blood with you many times. He can give you his if you prefer to safeguard your pact with him. Do not fear for us; there is no trap the vampire can devise that I cannot unravel. Sleep now, and let us get on with it.” The voice was a command.
Although Byron’s mind was impossible to control, the voice made anyone hearing it want to comply. Byron was exhausted and wracked with pain. He felt his hold on consciousness slipping away. His life was draining away, and he couldn’t convey to them the monstrous, diabolical plot the vampire had outlined to him as he lay so helpless. He could only hope they would figure it out in time. Byron shut down his heart to stop the draining of his blood. His lungs labored for a moment, then, with a little sigh, gave up, and he lay quiet, as if dead.
Gregori breathed a sigh of relief. “I could feel his pain.”
“I have felt it before,” Jacques replied grimly. “He is better off not feeling or knowing until we can see to his wounds.”
“He does not want my blood,” Gregori pointed out in his soft, calm tone. Nothing ruffled him; nothing moved him to emotion. He killed or healed as calmly as he talked.
“I am aware that I have entered into a pact with him. I will honor it,” Jacques said. “Let us find this trap so we can take him out of here. This place is evil.”
Gregori was examining the coffin itself, looking for hidden trip wires or a bomb of some kind. He ran his hand carefully along the outside of the crude wooden box. “The human left here knew nothing; they set him up as expendable. This has to be a death trap.” Very cautiously Gregori inspected the body lying so still. “He is in bad shape. He should have put himself to sleep immediately. He must have wanted to die quickly, or he knew they were expecting us and wanted to warn us. Whatever the answer, the day is creeping upon us fast, and we must get him to a cave where we can supply him with blood and the healing earth he needs.”
“Stand back, healer, and allow me to lift him. He is my friend, although I do not remember him. I can do no other than honor my commitment to him.”
“Go slowly, Jacques. The bomb, if there is one, must be beneath him.” Gregori, instead of moving away, moved closer so that he could grab anything that looked harmful and dispense with it if needed.
Hurry, Gregori. The light grows stronger, and I am uneasy,Mikhail instructed from outside.
Jacques very carefully felt under Byron’s body, a slow, cautious sweep, taking his time as if the morning light was not affecting any of them. The smell of blood assailed his nostrils, and the stench of charred flesh made his stomach lurch. Near Byron’s hips he felt the smallest of resistance. Instantly he stopped. “It is here, Gregori, a trip wire, razor sharp. It is cutting into my wrist. Can you see it? I dare not move until we know if it is connected to some kind of explosive device.”
Gregori crouched low and examined the intricate wiring. “A crude bomb, rather pointless. The vampire knows how easy it would be for me to dismantle it.”
“Perhaps this is a present from the two humans. It is a rather human trap, after all,” Jacques commented, waiting patiently for Gregori to deal with the problem. His superior strength allowed him to hold Byron’s dead weight with one hand and not notice any strain. “Is there a second device? Perhaps the first one is really a dummy.”
Gregori was more than uneasy now. He was a master of deceit, of cunning. This was far too elaborate a plot to have been set up in a matter of an hour. This had been planned for a long time. Someone had waited for the opportune time to carry it out. For what purpose? Mikhail felt uneasy also, as did Jacques. Something here was very wrong, but what was it? Puzzled, he examined the device again, not wanting to miss anything.
Chapter Fourteen
Shea stared out the window of the cabin into the driving rain. The droplets looked like tiny silver threads streaming from the gray sky. She shivered for no reason and crossed her arms protectively across her breasts.
“What’s wrong, Shea?” Raven asked softly, not wanting to intrude.
“Jacques just cut himself off completely from me.” Shea swallowed hard. All this time she had been so certain she needed her freedom from the continuous bond between them, but now that Jacques had withdrawn, she felt almost as if she couldn’t breathe. “I can’t reach him. He won’t let me.”
Raven sat up straighter, her face going very still. Mikhail?
Leave me for now,heordered. Raven caught the impression of fear for Jacques’ sanity, the swirling, violent rage that had welled up in the Carpathian males just before Mikhail broke the mind contact with her. She cleared her throat cautiously. “Sometimes they try to protect us from the harsher aspects of their lives.”
Shea whirled around to face her, eyebrows up. “Theirlives? Aren’t we bound to them? Haven’t they done something to irrevocably bind us to them so that there is no way to leave them? It isn’t just theirlives. They brought us into this, and they have no right to arbitrarily decide what we can and can’t know.”