“And do you plan to kill him also?”
“I do not have to take that chance. He will turn soon.” There was a wealth of satisfaction in Rand’s voice. “He will not choose death, as you all think he will. He has battled too long, and he is far too powerful. He will rip this world apart. And he will squash like bugs those who seek to destroy him. Aidan and Julian together might have a chance, but they, too, are close to turning. Together we will rule, as our race should have from the beginning. It is your brother who has kept our people from their rightful place. Humans are cattle to be used to sate our hunger, to serve our needs, yet we hide from them like cowards. The others hate me now, but soon all the ancients will join me.”
“And what of Shea in this master plan?”
“She will become one of us after your death. Her blood is Maggie’s blood, and she belongs to me. You had no right to her.”
“And you believe that you can defeat me in battle?” Jacques’ head was up, the demon in him struggling for freedom, wanting the joy and thrill of the fight. Hatred rose for this man who had destroyed his innocence, his family, his memories, his beliefs. Savage hatred for this man who had created a dark, dangerous being in the place of a gentle Carpathian rose and began to spread like a dark stain across his soul.
“You will defeat yourself, dark one. Your woman is tied to me. When you strike me, she will feel the pain. Every slash, every cut, it will be the woman who bleeds, not just me. She will also feel your joy in the act. She will know you for what you are, and she will know your need to inflict pain and death. She will finally see you as the monster you really are. She will see you kill her father, see your joy in the act, and she will feel each blow.”
Pain exploded in the region of Jacques’ temples as he desperately tried to remember if what the vampire was saying could be so. Would Shea feel pain inflicted upon Rand? Was her father’s blood in her veins sufficient to cause such a thing? He needed the answer immediately. Rand had him backed into a corner with this revelation.
Before Jacques could send off an inquiry and resolve the dilemma, the vampire launched himself, moving with supernatural speed, a blur of claws going for the jugular. Jacques leapt out of the way, felt the burn across his throat as the tips of Rand’s nails caught him and opened a shallow cut. Jacques retaliated without conscious thought, raking his own talons down the vampire’s face.
Rand screamed with pain, a cry of fear and hatred. Jacques kept at him, whirling in and out of visibility, inflicting lacerations across the vampire’s chest to drain him of his strength. He kept his mind firmly from Shea’s. He could not think she was in danger, that this savage fight could somehow affect her. The joy in him increased until his mind and body were alive with power. The vampire fell back under his onslaught. With one last desperate attempt to turn the battle in his favor, Rand disappeared, fled to the tree line, calling on the sky to do his bidding.
A bolt of lightning slammed to earth, scorching the area close to Jacques’ body, singeing the tips of his hair. A second bolt hit the precise spot where the Carpathian had been standing, but Jacques was already overhead, high in the trees above Rand. Wings beat the air strongly as he launched himself.
Rand screamed as the razor-sharp talons ripped into his chest, sought his pulsating heart. “Shea! Hear me! Join with me! Save me now! I am your father! You must join with me to save me from this monster tearing insanely at my flesh!”
Jacques reached for the organ, tore it free, and flung it far from the vampire. “You are dead, vampire, and you go, I hope, to some semblance of peace. The crimes you have committed against me and my family are avenged. You go to meet your God and his mercy. I feel none toward you. You would have taken her with you had you been able to do so. Carpathian justice has been dispensed.”
Rand staggered forward, his gray face slack, tainted blood flowing freely. His mouth working convulsively, he fell to his knees. Jacques leapt back from the thrashing body, careful that the grasping claws did not touch him, that not one speck of the dark blood splattered on him. His hand was burning as he wiped it clean in the shriveling grass.
The air around them stilled, the wind completely silent. The earth seemed to groan. An eerie steam rose from the wriggling body, mixed with a noxious odor. Jacques instinctively moved farther away from the spectacle. Vampires died hard; all fought to overcome death with every trick they had. The tainted blood trickled across the ground toward Jacques’ boots, guided by the dying vampire’s last evil thoughts. Jacques watched without emotion as the vampire crawled toward him, inched his way closer and closer, his face twisted with depravity, with hatred.
Jacques shook his head. “You hated yourself, Rand. You hated yourself all these years. All of you had to do was find the courage to follow her. Maggie would have saved your soul.”
Low, pitiful growls escaped from the hideous mouth, blood spewed forth, and Rand collapsed in front of Jacques, still reaching for him, still determined in his last moment to kill.
Jacques inhaled sharply, caught his first whiff of fresh, clean air, and knew the vampire had fully expired. With a little sigh he carried the bodies of the hunters to an open area and carefully collected what dry branches he could find. There could be no evidence left of this night. The vampire, too, had to be completely consumed by the fire so that there was no chance the tainted blood could find a way to revive him. The power of the vampire’s blood was incredible.
Weakness was becoming an increasing concern for Jacques. The fight had used up his last energies, and he still had to create and maintain a huge conflagration in the midst of a rain-soaked forest.
The wolf howled again, this time much closer, obviously loping toward the scene of death and destruction, perhaps drawn by the smell of blood. Jacques scored the earth with a lightning bolt, directing it along the river of blood. No creature needed the madness of that fluid in its belly.
An unusually large, rare, golden wolf trotted out of the timberline, circled the area warily, and sat down on its haunches only feet from Jacques. It watched him steadily with its strange golden eyes, completely unafraid. It seemed not to be affected by the fire, the lightning, or the Carpathian male. Jacques watched the animal equally intently, certain he was facing more than a wolf. The creature did not make an attempt to use the common mental path to communicate. It simply watched him, taking in the bizarre scene, the golden eyes never wavering.
A humorless smile curved Jacques’ hard mouth. “If you are looking for action tonight, I am too tired to oblige you, and far too hungry.”
The wolf’s shape contorted, stretched, shimmered in the smoke of the fire, and soon a large, heavily muscled man was facing Jacques. His long, shaggy mane of hair was blond, his eyes golden, his body perfectly balanced. “You are Jacques, brother to Mikhail. I heard you were dead.”
“That is the story going around,” Jacques assented warily.
“You have no memory of me? I am Julian, brother to Aidan. I have been away these last long years. The far-off mountains, the places without people, are my home.”
“The last I heard, you were fighting wars in distant lands.”
“When the mood is upon me, I fight where it is needed,” Julian agreed. “I see you do also. The vampire lies dead, and you are pale beyond imagination.”
Jacques’ smile was grim. “Do not allow my color to fool you.”
“I am no vampire yet, and if ever I fear turning, I will go to Aidan, and he will destroy me if I cannot do so myself. If you wish to take blood, then I offer it freely. The healer knows me; you can ask him if I am a reliable resource.” There was the slightest of smiles, a self-mocking humor.
“What are you doing in these parts?” Jacques asked suspiciously.
“I was traveling through, on my way to the United States, when I heard the butchers were back, and I thought I would make myself useful to our people for a change.”