“We belong to a secret society,” he whispered softly, his voice so low that only the two Carpathians could possibly hear. He didn’t want his partner to know he was betraying the members. There was a curious buzzing in his head, like a swarm of bees. He broke out in a sweat.
Savannah touched him lightly, a brushing of fingers across his arm. Curiously, she brought a refreshing breeze with that touch, one that cleared his head for a moment so that the oppressive pain lightened. Her smile sent a shiver of excitement through him, of such desire and need that he wanted to fall at her feet. “How exciting. Is it dangerous?” She tilted her head, an innocent seductress luring him closer and closer.
Randall was aware of the smallness of her waist, the fullness of her breasts, the sway of her hips. He had never wanted anything more in his life, and her enormous eyes were focused only on him, saw only him. He swallowed hard. “Very dangerous. We hunt vampires. The real thing, not this nonsense.”
Her perfect mouth formed a small O. She had beautiful lips, rose-petal soft, moist, pouty, kissable lips.
Savannah, stop now. He is dangerous, whether you think so or not. His mind stinks of the vampire. I might find out where Morrison is. I said no.
Gregori reached out and shackled her wrist, yanking her from between the two men to the protection of his body.
I will not use you to find the undead. He will trace the path back to you. I have no choice but to destroy this one.
Her face paled visibly, long lashes sweeping down to conceal her eyes.
Why not heal him as you did the captain? I cannot heal what is essentially evil.
His thumb feathered gently back and forth across the pulse beating so strongly in her inner wrist.
He is a servant of the vampire, and you know it, Savannah. You knew it the moment you touched his mind. What you can find and trace, so can the vampire. And he is more adept than you. I cannot allow such a risk to you.
Randall crowded close, wrapped in the thrall of mental compulsion. He perceived the hand on Savannah’s wrist as evil, a coiled snake dragging her away from her rightful place at his side.
Gregori focused on the partner, John Perkins. The man’s mind was stronger than Randall Smith’s. The vampire’s hold on him was much blacker, as if Perkins had been in close contact for a longer period of time. He was staring at Savannah suspiciously. Gregori could easily pick out the dark lust, the jealousy that she chose Randall for her attention instead of him. Perkins was twisted inside, the vampire’s compulsion working on his already depraved mind.
Morrison knew how to choose his servants. The vicious, ugly nature of malicious men, those without friends or relatives, those hungry for violence and depravity. He sent them among the curious, those like Gary, people with quick, intelligent minds open to the paranormal. People isolated by their very intelligence and open-mindedness. The vampire was able to use those intelligent men by luring them with false hopes, false promises, using them for research and the legwork needed for his legions of true servants.
Gregori sighed softly. He was what he was. Guilt could not be a part of his existence. He was responsible for the continuation of his race and for Savannah’s safety. He thrust into John Perkins’s mind, past the vampire’s control, and planted the seeds of destruction. His hand on Savannah’s wrist tightened, and he quickened their pace to put distance between the society members and his lifemate.
Once again their guide stopped them all and was weaving a tale of debauchery, and murder. The crowd was silent, captivated by the interesting history of the city. Gregori inserted Savannah into the throng, his larger frame protecting her from the impending violence.
Out on the street, John Perkins stared malevolently at Randall Smith. “You always have to ruin everything, Smith. You always have to be the one to talk to Morrison. I’m closest to him, but you just have to prove you’re the big cheese.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Randall demanded, his gaze frantically searching the crowd for Savannah.
Gregori was shielding her, the haze he created making it impossible to detect her in the night. Randall craned his neck, worked to get around his partner, going so far as to shove him out of his way. His heart was beating frantically, his one thought to find Savannah.
“What are you doing, Gregori?” she demanded softly.
Gary inched through the crowd of tourists until he managed to push his way to the Carpathians’ side. He was as enthralled by the storyteller as the rest of the crowd. He studied the building with its history of sexual misconduct, fire, and murder with rapt attention.
Gregori bent his dark head down to hers. “I can do no other than eliminate the threat to you. The vampire has a clear trail leading straight to you from this one’s mind. It is a trap,
ma petite,
and we cannot afford to fall into it.”
“You don’t mean
we,
” she said, “you mean
me”
Perkins shoved at Randall hard enough to cause the other man to sprawl in the middle of the street. Randall erupted into obscenities, disturbing the storyteller. Their host paused for the best dramatic effect, heaved a sigh, and strolled toward the two combatants.
Gary had noticed police patrol cars cruising the area often and wondered if it was a courtesy to their tour guide. It was possible he even had some way to signal them if there was trouble.
Before the guide reached the two men, Perkins produced a gun. Everyone froze instantly. “You traitor. You were going to betray us all!” he screamed, his face a twisted mask of fury and hatred.
The dark compulsion of the kill was on him, and on Randall, who retaliated with a gun of his own. The crowd ran in all directions, seeking shelter, hiding behind parked cars, and jumping to the other side of fences. Wild cries rose, and the air was thick with fear. Gregori shoved Savannah into Gary and toward the comparative shelter of a brick wall. He stood tall on the walkway, watching the drama unfolding before him.
The guide, clearly torn between the need for safety and the need to protect his tourists, hesitated in the open. Gregori waved a hand to erect a barrier between the man and any stray bullet. The two society members were raging at one another, then Perkins fired a barrage of bullets to meet the ones Randall sprayed at him.
A dark shadow passed across the sky, blotting out the stars, stilling the wind. Both men fell slowly, shirts splattered with what looked like red paint. They landed like rag dolls in the middle of the street, sprawled out, motionless. Their guns clattered to the pavement to look like harmless toys where they lay. The dark shadow hovered, as alarming as the sudden violence that had erupted.
No one moved, no one spoke, no one made a sound. It was as if they knew the dark, sinister shadow clouding the sky was far more deadly than the guns lying so silent in the street.
The large stain spread across the stars, then began to gather itself ominously into a smaller, much blacker and heavier cloud. Dense, compact, it moved slowly, as if surveying the group with an obscene red eye. In its very center a vein of jagged light streaked continually.
Someone gasped. Someone else began a low prayer. After a moment, a few others joined in. The shadow darkened until it blotted out every bit of light above their heads. The lightning veins, jagged and threatening, increased in activity.
Gregori realized the vampire was searching for them. He knew his enemies were near, but Gregori had automatically cloaked his presence, something he did without thought. The undead should have been able to detect Savannah’s presence, having followed the faint psychic trail through his servant, but Savannah had been busy, too. Running around so much in Gregori’s head, she had utilized the lessons he had learned through hard experience, through trial and error. She was masking her presence every bit as deftly as Gregori was able to do.