With a sigh, he shape-shifted. The small rodent scurried easily through the leaves on the ground to cross the open space to the shack. The beat of wings came to his ears and the rodent froze. Mikhail hissed a warning, and the owl gliding in for the attack veered off. The rodent gained the safety of the wooden stairs, flicked its tail, and began to search for a crack or hole in the wall to gain entry.
Mikhail had already picked up two familiar scents. Hans was entertaining. The rodent squeezed through a chink between two rotting boards and found its way into a bedroom. Silently the creature raced across the floor to the doorway. Mikhail allowed the odors of the household to be processed by the rodent’s body. He moved carefully in little stops and starts until he managed to gain a position in a darkened corner of the room.
Heidi Ramanov sat in a wooden chair directly across from him, weeping softly, a rosary clutched in her hand.
Hans faced three men, a map spread between them on a table.
“You’re wrong, Hans. You were wrong about Noelle,” Mrs. Romanov sobbed. “You’ve gone crazy and you’ve brought in these killers. My God, you have murdered an innocent girl, a new mother. Your soul is lost.”
“Shut up, old woman,” Hans shouted rudely, his face a mask of fanaticism. He blazed with it, a crusader fighting a holy war. “I know what I saw.” He crossed himself, his eyes darting left and right as a curious shadow like that of a winged creature seemed to pass over the shack.
For a moment everyone in the room went quiet. Mikhail could taste their fear, hear the sudden frantic pounding of their hearts. Inside the house, Hans had hung wreaths of garlic at every window and over the doors. He stood up slowly, licking suddenly dry lips, grabbing at the cross hanging around his neck and moving to a window to assure himself the wreath was in place. “What about that? That shadow just now? You all still think I made a mistake because we found her in a bed and not sleeping in the ground?”
“There was nothing, no dirt, no protections,” a dark-haired foreigner said reluctantly. Mikhail recognized the man’s spoor. Assassin. One from the inn. Inside the rodent, the beast unsheathed its claws and flexed. They had murdered Noelle without even being certain she was what they sought.
“I know what I saw, Eugene,” Hans declared. “After Heidi left, the woman began to lose blood. I had arrived to walk Heidi home because the woods are dangerous. I was going to tell the husband I would bring Heidi back to help. He was very agitated and did not see me as I looked in. I saw it with my own eyes. She drank so much, he was weak and pale. I got out of there and contacted you immediately.”
Eugene nodded his head. “You did the right thing. I came as soon as I could and brought the others. If they’ve learned a way to whelp, we’ll be overrun with the devils.”
The largest man in the room stirred uncomfortably. “I’ve never heard of a vampire breeding. They kill the living to enlarge their ranks. They sleep in the ground and guard their lairs. You acted before we could investigate this thoroughly.”
“Kurt,” Eugene protested, “we saw the opportunity and we took it. And how come her body just disappeared? After we did it, we ran. The husband and child have not been seen since. We know the woman is dead—we killed her—yet there is no hue and cry over her death.”
“We must find the husband and child,” Hans decreed. “And any others; we must stamp them out.” He peered nervously out the warped glass into the night. He let out a low exclamation of alarm. “Look, Eugene—a wolf. That damn Dubrinsky protects them on his land. Someday they’re going to overrun our village and make off with the children.” He reached down for the old rifle propped against the wall.
Eugene jumped up. “Wait, Hans! Are you certain it’s a wolf? A real wolf? Why would a wolf be out of the woods and staring at your house?”
“Who is this Dubrinsky who keeps wolves?” Kurt demanded.
“He is of the Church!” Heidi hissed, shocked at the implication. “He is a good man, in church every Sunday. Father Hummer is one of his dearest friends. They often eat supper together and play chess. I have seen this with my own eyes.”
Hans waved her testimony aside. “Dubrinsky is the devil himself. See it out there, the wolf slinking in the bushes, watching the house?”
“I tell you, that’s not natural.” Eugene lowered his voice. “It’s one of them.”
“They couldn’t know it was us,” Hans denied, but he betrayed his fear with his trembling hands. He lifted the rifle to his shoulder.
“You’ll have to get it with the first shot, Hans,” Eugene warned.
The rodent raced across the floor into the bedroom and squeezed through the small crack. Mikhail burst from the rodent’s body, his mind reaching out into the night with a warning, shape-shifting as he ran, becoming a huge black wolf with burning eyes of vengeance.
He covered the ground in a rush, leaping at the smaller wolf’s body. As his heavier frame crashed into the smaller one, Mikhail felt fire exploding in his flesh. The smaller wolf slunk into the heavy woods. Although blood gushed from its hindquarters, the huge black wolf didn’t utter a cry, didn’t run away. Instead, the wolf turned its large head and stared at the house with two burning coals for eyes, staring with a promise. Vengeance. Retribution. The dark promise of death itself.
Mikhail!Raven’s sharp cry rang in his head.
The black wolf stared a moment longer, holding Hans Romanov in his power; then it turned and simply vanished into the night. There was no way that any of the men would dare attempt to track it. The huge wolf had come out of nowhere, leaping to protect the smaller wolf. The black wolf was no ordinary wolf, and not one of them wanted to follow it into the timber.
Mikhail trotted to the safety of the deep forest before pain and loss of blood drove him to take his human form. He staggered, caught at a thick tree branch, and sat down abruptly.
Mikhail! Please! I know you’re hurt. Where are you? I can feel your pain. Let me come to you. Let me help you.
Behind Mikhail the bushes rustled. He didn’t bother to turn, knowing Byron was there, ashamed, embarrassed, filled with remorse. “Mikhail. God, I am sorry. Is it bad?”
“Bad enough.” Mikhail clamped his hand over the wound to stop the blood flowing so freely. “What were you doing there, Byron? It was madness, foolhardy.”
Mikhail.Raven’s fear and tears were filling his mind.
Be calm, little one. A scratch, no more.
Let me come to you.She was pleading with him, and it broke his heart.
Byron tore a strip from his shirt and bound Mikhail’s thigh. “I am sorry. I should have listened to you, should have known you would be hunting. I thought...” He trailed off, looking uncomfortable.
“Thought what?” Mikhail prompted wearily. The wound hurt like hell. He felt sick and dizzy, and somehow he had to reassure Raven. She was striving to comfort him, to find him; she was even trying to “see” through his eyes. Stopit, Raven. Do as I say. I am not alone. One of my people is with me. I will be with you soon.
“I thought you would be so involved with that woman, you might not have time for the hunt.” Byron ducked his head. “I feel like such a fool, Mikhail. I was so worried about Eleanor.”
“I have never shirked my duties. The protection of our people has always come first.” Mikhail could not attempt to heal the wound with Raven dwelling in his mind.