He found the first body beside the porch. The man was mangled, his throat torn, the wound gaping and brutal, as though a huge animal had attacked and killed him. He was drained of blood. Jacques stood beside the hunter’s body for a moment, angry with himself for exposing the human to danger needlessly. Of course Rand would know he would need to feed often; he would look for Jacques’ source and cut it off.
Jacques remained very still while he took stock of his surroundings. The kill was fresh, minutes old, the body still warm. The vampire was somewhere in the immediate vicinity, waiting for him. Jacques had no doubt he was next on the vampire’s list. Jacques could not detect any evidence of him, yet he knew with a certainty he was being stalked. He inhaled sharply and allowed the demon inside to awaken with an ugly roar. Jacques could feel the faint stirring in his mind, the gentle, warm inquiry. Do not attempt to contact me, Shea. The vampire is attempting a trap. I cannot be distracted.
Then I will come to you!Shea was very alarmed.
Jacques could almost see her face, the enormous green eyes wide with worry, her chin determined. You will do as I bid, Shea. I cannot worry about both of us and succeed.He used his firmest voice, sending a reinforcing push toward her.
He could feel her reluctance to obey him, but she did not protest further, believing she might endanger him. Jacques moved up the stairs stealthily. The door was slightly ajar, the wind pushing it gently to and fro. The hinges were old and rusty and squeaked with each shift of the wind. Jacques slipped inside to the smell of death and fear, the overwhelming scent of blood.
The floor was a pool of dark, nearly black liquid, sticky and thick. The two bodies had been flung carelessly aside after the vampire had sated himself on the adrenaline-laced sustenance.
He had deliberately drained the rest of the blood from the bodies so that the smell of it would further trigger Jacques’ need to feed. He also made certain there was nothing left for Jacques to use to ease that biting, gnawing hunger. It was growing in him every moment, weakening his body, preying on his strength.
No, it’s not, Jacques.Shea’svoice was a soft, clean note in his head. You are not weak. You are strong, very strong and healthy. The vampire has set another trap for you. Get out of the house, get into the open air. You are young and strong. There is nothing he can do to you.In her mind there was complete confidence in him, not so much as a shadow of worry or doubt. She believed in him. Jacques could do no other than to follow her lead and believe in himself.
Very carefully he searched the interior of the cabin, looking for hidden traps. When the feeling of doom persisted in creeping into his mind, he reached for Shea’s reassuring presence. She was always there, utterly loyal, determined to make him see himself as she saw him. Her belief in him enabled him to see how the vampire’s trap was preying on his mind. He found himself smiling grimly, without humor. He acknowledged the vampire’s power and expertise in illusion, but Shea had broken the spell with her unfailing belief in him. Jacques was strong enough to deal with the undead; it was only a matter of perceiving the traps for the illusions they were.
Jacques made his way outside into the cool night air. The wind tugged at his clothing, raked at his long hair. A lone wolf howled, endlessly calling for a mate. The sound caught at him, touched a spot in him, and he lifted his head and crooned softly into the night. The wolf was wandering far from its companions, alone, an outcast to those who did not understand its predatory nature.
A sound alerted him, a mere rustle in the underbrush, but it was enough to draw his mind away from the wolf and back to the enemy stalking him. He lowered his body into a crouch, centering himself for the attack. When he turned his head, Rand moved out into the open. He was smeared with blood, his fangs exposed, his eyes red-rimmed, and his nails long, clawed tips. His skin, flushed from his recent kills, was stretched taut against his skull so that he had the look of death clinging to him.
“I knew you would leave your bride to feast upon the humans. You could not resist when blood was there for the taking,” Rand said in a voice edged with contempt.
Jacques’ eyebrows rose a fraction. “You seem to help yourself to whatever you desire. Does that include other men’s lifemates?”
Rand’s mouth twisted into an ugly snarl. “You took my lifemate from me. You and your brother. Yet now both of you have found the very thing you would never allow me to have. I will destroy Mikhail and his woman, and I will take back from you what is rightfully mine.”
“Maggie is dead, Rand, and only you are responsible. You left Noelle to the human butchers while you rushed out to see your lifemate, yet you did not have the courage to bring her before Mikhail and announce her as such. She would still be alive if you had.”
“Noelle would have murdered her. She threatened to do so many times.”
“Mikhail would never have allowed such a thing, and you know it. It was your own lack of courage that killed her. Any Carpathian male worth anything will stand up for the one he chooses for his lifemate. Is it possible, Rand, that you were so warped with all your womanizing that you simply did not want to make a full commitment to Maggie? Perhaps you liked having the two women, liked to taunt Noelle. Perhaps the two of you had a twisted, perverted relationship, and you could not quite bring yourself to give it up for something so right and pure.”
Rand roared, his head back, the sound issuing forth one of anger and agony. “You go too far, dark one. You think I cannot see what you really are? You are a killer. It is plain to those of us who see you with clear eyes. Do you not feel the need to destroy? Do you not enjoy the power? You are one with me, whether you choose to see it or not. Your nature is dark and ugly, like the world you and your brother forced me to occupy. I do not need to destroy one such as you—you will do so on your own. The woman will see what you are eventually.”
“Shea knows exactly what I am, and she is willing to live with me. You chose your own life and your own fate, Rand. You rose before your time—”
“I felt the rending tear when my lifemate chose death!”
“That does not excuse your responsibility in the matter. She would not have chosen death had you been man enough to take her before Mikhail and show the world she belonged to you. And you could have chosen to follow her to her fate, but again you left her to face the unknown by herself. Instead you blamed others for your inadequacies and set out to revenge yourself. Tell me, Rand, why did you deliver your own son into the hands of those butchers? He was a boy, a mere eighteen. What had he done to deserve such a terrible fate?”
Rand’s face twisted into a snarling mask of hatred. “I gave him a chance to join me, to seek retribution for what Mikhail and you had done to me. I went to him, his own father, and explained my plan. He was so brainwashed by you, by Mikhail, that he called me vampire. I could see you had twisted his mind. He would not listen to me. I could not allow such a traitor to live. My slaves dealt him with. They thought they controlled me, but I put thoughts into their heads at will. They named me Vulture and thought to destroy me after they had used me. It was amusing to turn them against one another, to force them to set each other up for the kill. Wallace and Slovensky were evil men and easy to ensnare. Smith was weak, a follower, a good sacrifice.”
“You had them torture and mutilate your own son. And what of the others? Why the others?”
Rand smiled, a wicked, humorless parody of amusement. “For the fun, of course, for the practice. Gregori thinks he is the only one who can use the dark secrets, but he is not as smart as he thinks.”