Jacques was already preparing new poultices to replace the blood-soaked ones. “Can we give her more blood? She is still losing more than I like and is so weak, I fear she will not live through the night.”
“Yes,” Gregori replied tiredly, thoughtfully, “but no more than a pint or two. We must do this slowly or we will alarm her. What she would accept unconditionally in Mikhail, she will not accept in herself. Give her my blood. It is potent, like Mikhail’s, and he grows weak trying to breathe for her and keep her heart going.”
“You are tired, Gregori,” Jacques protested. “There are others.”
“Not with my blood. Do as I say.” Gregori seated himself calmly and watched as a needle was inserted into his vein. No one argued with Gregori; he was a law unto himself. Only Mikhail could truly call him friend.
Celeste drew in a deep breath, wanting to say something to Gregori that would indicate her admiration, but there was a look in his eyes that stopped her. Gregori was calm in the eye of the storm; he was lethal in his coolness.
Jacques allowed Gregori’s precious life fluid to flow directly into Raven’s veins. It wasn’t the best or fastest way for healing, but Gregori’s observations alleviated Jacques’s concerns. Only after he had assured himself that the blood was flowing easily did Jacques sit down again. They had to organize themselves, make certain every detail was taken care of. Mikhail believed details saved lives. “We need to assess the damage to our people. All of the assassins died; not one escaped?”
“Hans, the American couple, and the man who attacked Raven.” Eric counted them off. “They were the only ones present. No mortal could have survived the intensity of the storm, the killing rage in the animals. If there had been an unseen observer, Mikhail or the beasts would have known.”
Gregori stirred tiredly, his enormous strength beginning to fade with his continuing efforts. “There was no other.” He said it imperiously, as if no one would think to question him, and of course they wouldn’t.
Jacques found a small grin touching his mouth for the first time all evening. “But you made a clean sweep of the area, Eric?”
“Absolutely. The bodies are burned, caught together under a tree as if for shelter and hit by lightning. There is no evidence of wounds,” Eric reported.
“Tomorrow a search will be launched for the missing tourists and Hans. Byron, your house is close; the other assassins will suspect you. Do not go near your home. Vlad must take Eleanor and the child away from this area completely.”
“Are they able to travel?” Gregori asked. “By car.”
“We have the night. I have a house I use in the winter months sometimes, not often. It is well protected, difficult to access.” Gregori’s smile did nothing to warm his silver eyes. “I like my privacy. At the moment it is unoccupied. I offer it freely for the protection of the woman and child for as long as there is need. The house is well over a hundred miles from this place, and I roam the world, so you will not be disturbed.”
Before Vlad could protest, Jacques preempted him. “Excellent idea. That solves one of our problems. Byron has his own bolt-holes. Start now, Vlad. Guard Eleanor well. She is precious to us, as is the child.”
“I must speak to Mikhail. Eleanor is very distraught that she put Raven’s life in jeopardy.”
“Mikhail is not himself.” Jacques removed the needle from Raven’s limp body and Gregori’s arm. Her breath was so light, so shallow, he didn’t see how Mikhail could keep her going. “You will have to discuss things at another time. He is forced to use all his energies for Raven’s survival. His woman is not breathing on her own.”
Vlad frowned, but complied when Gregori waved him out. He might have stayed to argue with Jacques to ease the conscience of his lifemate, but all obeyed Gregori. He was Mikhail’s right hand, the most relentless of their hunters, the true healer of their people, and he guarded Mikhail as a treasure.
“None of our people have fed this night,” Eric pointed out, studying his wife’s pale features. “No human will be out.”
“The risk is great when we are forced to enter a dwelling.” Jacques sighed, wishing he could consult Mikhail.
“Do not disturb him,” Gregori said. “She needs him more than we do. If she dies, we lose him and any real chance at a future for our race. Noelle was the last female to survive, and that was more than five hundred years ago. We need this woman to continue our species. We must be at full strength. It is not finished.”
Mikhail stirred, opened his dark, haunted eyes. “It is not finished. There are at least two others, possibly four. Eugene Slovensky, Kurt Von Halen. I do not know the identity of the other two travelers, or if they are even involved. Their names should be at the inn; Mrs. Galvenstein can provide them.” Long lashes drooped. Mikhail’s fingers tunneled deeply into Raven’s hair, as if he could drag her back from the brink of death.
Jacques watched those long fingers stroke her hair lovingly. “Can we put her in soil for a few hours, Gregori?”
“It should speed the healing process.”
Eric and Jacques went down to prepare the cellar, opening the earth with a single command, creating enough space to lay two bodies side by side. They moved Raven carefully, and Mikhail stayed close to her side, never speaking, focusing his entire concentration on her heart, her lungs, on preserving the dim light that contained her will to live.
He lowered himself deep in the bowels of the earth, felt the healing properties of the rich soil as it settled around him like a welcoming bed. He accepted her slight weight, fit her body into the shelter of his.
Mikhail moved his hands, formed a slight tunnel over their heads and ordered the earth to blanket them. The soil filled in closely around and over his legs, her legs, covered their bodies, pressing them deeper into the earth.
Raven’s heart leapt, nearly missing a beat, became erratic in spite of the firm beating of his own heart. I’m alive! They’re burying us alive!
Be still, little one. We are of the earth. It is offering to heal us. You are not alone, I am here with you.
I can’t breathe.
I am breathing for us.
I can’t stand it. Make them stop.
The earth has recuperative powers. Let them work. I am Carpathian, of the earth. There is nothing to fear. Not the wind or the soil or the waters. We are one.
1 am not Carpathian.There was sheer terror in her mind.
We are one. Nothing can hurt you.
She closed herself off from him, began a frantic struggle that could only end her life. Mikhail realized it was futile to argue. She could not accept the earth closing around her, over her head. He released them from the ground immediately, forced her heart to slow to normal, floating upward with her in his arms.
“I feared this,” he said to Jacques, who was still in the cellar. “Carpathian blood runs strong in her veins, but her mind sets human limits. Burial represents death. She cannot tolerate the deep earth.”
“Then we must bring the soil to her,” Jacques said.
“She is so weak, Jacques.” Mikhail held Raven to him, his face etched with grief. “It makes no sense that this was done to her.”