Dark Lycan (29 page)

“I can see why the Lycans have forbidden the cross of blood between Lycan and Carpathian,” Mikhail mused. “There seems to be no stopping them. Abel didn’t slow down, not even when he was pierced with silver stakes.”

“I feel like we should be trying to help Fen,” Vikirnoff said. “But I’m not certain how we can go to his aid.”

For the first time he knew what Mikhail, as the prince of their people, must feel like when he couldn’t go out and join in a fight. Carpathians were warriors. It wasn’t in their nature to sit back and watch another battle, especially if that person was one of their own. He had never considered how Mikhail must feel when he was relegated to the sidelines, always having his people standing between him and danger.

Vikirnoff knew he was the prince’s last protection, but still, everything in his body, mind and very soul needed to be out there helping Fen. He felt cowardly, crouched behind a safeguard while another hunter was outside alone with a killing machine.

“You’d just be in his way,” Mikhail pointed out, reading his mind. “He can’t look after you and fight this monster. Besides, it appears as if Fen is a killing machine as well.”

Vikirnoff nodded. Natalya moved up beside him, close, not touching, but offering him comfort, fully aware of his frustration. He was grateful to her. He couldn’t help feeling better when she was near. “Still, there should be something we can do for him.”

“He’ll need blood,” Mikhail pointed out. “The patches he applies when Abel tears him open appear to be temporary.”

“Gregori needs to see this.”

“He’s busy at the moment trying to make certain we don’t lose Gary, but I’m passing on to him everything about the
Sange rau
that we observe.”

Fen was aware of the unease of his fellow Carpathians, but grateful that they used good sense not to join in the battle. He couldn’t watch out for them and anticipate Abel’s moves and react at the same time. As it was, part of him was engaged in the battle taking place outside.

Overhead, the clear early morning rays were gone, replaced by a ferocious storm. Black clouds churned and roiled overhead, a giant cauldron of boiling nature. White lightning laced the edges of the clouds, flashing and sparking, great forks veining each of the dark clouds. Few were better than Dimitri at creating the ultimate storm.

A whip of lightning lashed the mountainside, hitting directly into a thin crack. Sparks rose up, and Bardolf yelped. He sprang into the air, furious that Dimitri had struck him again with the whip of lightning. Once was bad enough, but the Carpathian hunter was playing a game of hit and run. Dimitri had planned for the anger. Fen had counseled him that Bardolf didn’t have the control Abel did.

I can see why you serve a master,
Dimitri taunted.

He shifted into the form of a smaller hawk, streaking through the branches of the high canopy in the forest, making certain to stay close to the edge of the meadow, certain Bardolf had been ordered to stay close to the tunnel to keep any Carpathian from interfering.

I serve no master.
Bardolf blasted into the sky after the small hawk. He chose the form of a great harpy eagle, talons as large as bear claws. He was fast, very fast and he caught up fairly quickly.

Dimitri and Fen had played many war games over the last few centuries, and Dimitri used the same tactics that had been successful on his brother. He lengthened the branches, and this time changed the leaves and needles to spikes. The smaller hawk was able to maneuver through the dense foliage, but the larger eagle crashed into the lengthening branches, the spikes driving into the body and wings of the bird.

A little slow for a
Sange rau
, aren’t you?
Dimitri taunted.

Vampires and werewolves definitely had egos. Getting Bardolf angry was a good tactic in that if he was mad, he might make mistakes. Dimitri had been trained for centuries in fighting the
Sange rau
. The practice sessions with Fen might have been games, but he’d learned what worked and what didn’t. He wasn’t as fast, but his tricks would work once, just enough to hurt his opponent and hopefully slow him down.

Bardolf’s echoing cry reverberated through the trees as the body of the eagle tumbled, bleeding from several wounds. Feathers floated to the ground, but Bardolf recovered midair, shifting to a smaller owl and streaking toward Dimitri once more.

Dimitri waited until he was very close and blasted him with a sudden downdraft, driving the owl straight toward the earth. Bardolf went down fast. As he fell to earth, the ground rose to meet him. Bardolf hit hard.

Dimitri deliberately snickered, digging at him again.
I thought you were supposed to have been an alpha, a leader of the pack. You don’t fly so well, do you?

Bardolf yelled, a ferocious sound making the trees shiver. He launched himself again, this time streaking straight at Dimitri, shifting as he did so, slamming into the Carpathian before Dimitri could move, claws ripping at his chest and belly, digging deep.

Dimitri shifted out from under him the moment Bardolf drew back for another assault. Bardolf made his grab but his hands went through empty space. Dimitri couldn’t afford to allow the
Sange rau
to actually catch him. The idea was to hit and run, not get caught. He’d been a little slow and he paid the price. Bardolf was so fast, he’d sliced Dimitri’s body in a dozen places before Dimitri could actually shift.

He became tiny molecules, and instead of doing what Bardolf anticipated, he attached himself to the
Sange rau
’s clothing, allowing the wolf/vampire to take him up to the storm where he was expected to be. Bardolf sniffed around, his acute sense of smell telling him Dimitri was near, but he couldn’t find him in the roiling, spinning clouds.

Dimitri had practiced the move on his brother hundreds of times, but he hadn’t been wounded. Blood hadn’t been leaking from his body to give his position away. He didn’t have much time to control the bleeding and slip off Bardolf. Ahead of him, he wove four different strands and sent them out into the storm, forcing the wolf/vampire to make a choice of which would be Dimitri.

Bardolf took the bait, hesitating for a moment, using his enhanced vision to try to choose the one element he believed was his Carpathian opponent. He made up his mind and flew after the strand leading back toward the opening to the mountain. Dimitri abandoned him, moving into a dark, spinning cloud, catching his breath and preparing his next move.

The
Sange rau
suddenly changed direction as if he’d been summoned. Dimitri’s pulse jumped.
Fen? You okay? Bardolf is headed your way fast.

Can you stop him? Slow him down?

His brother sounded the same way he always sounded. Matter-of-fact. But Dimitri touched his mind for a moment. There was pain. Exhaustion. Blood loss.
No problem. I’m on it now.

Dimitri studied the trajectory of the wolf/vampire hurtling recklessly toward his master. In his hurry to obey, Bardolf forgot the cat and mouse game they’d been playing, dismissing Dimitri as of little consequence. After all, Dimitri hadn’t actually engaged in a fight with him.

Dimitri used the storm he’d built. Superheating a pocket of air was easy enough. Placing it exactly where Bardolf would choose to fly was the much more difficult part, but Dimitri had spent lifetimes running with the wolves. The real thing. He’d spent time with his brother, who had become Lycan.

Bardolf thought as a wolf first. He was comfortable in that skin. He was familiar with it and seemed to hesitate before he used the gifts his vampire blood gave him. Dimitri thought like a wolf as well. He’d run with them for centuries and studied their behavior. Bardolf was comfortable with a pack. He fought in a pack. Fighting alone was completely foreign to him.

His master had only perpetuated that weakness in order to keep the wolf from wanting to usurp his leader. Bardolf would go straight to his alpha, taking the fastest line of flight to obey. Dimitri chose a spot just ahead of the wolf/vampire and built the searing heat. Bardolf burst into the small section and screamed as the scalding heat burned his skin.

Bardolf backpedaled, desperate to get away from the heat burning right through him. Dimitri blasted out of the sky behind him, driving straight for him. The force of the two coming together at such a speed helped drive the stake deep into Bardolf’s back. Dimitri knew immediately he’d missed the heart. Something must have warned the
Sange rau
because at the last moment, he turned slightly, just enough to throw off Dimitri’s aim.

Bardolf spun, claws whipping across Dimitri’s face, knocking him back so that he tumbled. Before he could shift, Bardolf was on him, ripping at his belly, pushing the silver stake from his body and catching it in his palm, reversing and throwing it hard at Dimitri.

Dimitri twisted hard, trying to present the smallest target possible. The stake entered his shoulder high. The force of Bardolf’s throw drove it straight through so that the shaft left a large hole behind. Bardolf immediately pursued the injured Carpathian, following up on his advantage. Dimitri had suspected all along that he was close to becoming the
Sange rau
, and the terrible, relentless burn of the silver confirmed it for him.

Get out of there!
Fen called out urgently, seeing his brother falling out of the sky, a spray of blood surrounding him and the
Sange rau
streaking toward him.

Fen had thrown Abel out of the tunnel and into the meadow where he knew the traps Gregori had prepared for a vampire were waiting. He was counting on the sun, but the storm overhead kept the harmful rays from reaching Abel. He had a choice—follow up on his advantage—or to go the aid of his brother. He was protecting the prince and that had to be his first priority . . .

He drove both feet hard into Abel’s face, smashing the crystals deeper into the skin. Abel fell back into a fine net of silver. Fen launched himself skyward, intercepting Bardolf before the
Sange rau
could get to his brother.

Fen was faster and much more skilled. He’d been
Sange rau
for centuries, long before Bardolf had been, and he’d been an ancient Carpathian hunter. The wolf wasn’t comfortable in the sky, in the midst of a violent storm, but Fen was right at home. And he was protecting his brother. More, he felt aggressive toward Bardolf, enraged even that he’d dared to try to kill Dimitri. That emotion had never once been with him in battle.

He hit Bardolf hard, slamming him down with air pressure as well as physical force. Bardolf hit the ground and rolled, trying to get to his feet as Fen dropped on top of him.

Dimitri, get out of here now. You need blood fast.
His tone brooked no argument. In any case, Dimitri had a lifemate. He wouldn’t throw his life away, and anyway, he was too wounded to help.

Fen drove a stake deep into Bardolf’s body as he landed on him, straddling him, pinning him down. Still, Bardolf’s immense strength as both wolf and vampire came into play, allowing him to once again avoid the stake to the heart. He was bleeding in dozens of places, but he still squirmed away from the deadly silver stake.

He shifted, falling back on his wolf, tearing at Fen’s body, biting hard on his thigh, nearly going to bone, refusing to let go, pulling at the flesh and sinew, determined to get to the artery. Cursing, Fen had no choice but to let him go. Bardolf immediately shifted again, taking to the air, streaking like a comet away from the battleground, self-preservation uppermost in his mind. He abandoned his master, running for his life, leaving behind a trail of blood in the sky.

Fen had to choose to follow him or go back to stop Abel. Every cell in his body wanted to follow Bardolf for daring to put a hand on his brother, but honor and duty demanded he protect the prince. With another snarl and curse, he streaked back to the tunnel. He could see the blood where Dimitri had chosen to go inside. He could get blood from Vikirnoff and Mikhail and yet still help to defend the prince. That was his brother. Always choosing the right path in spite of the danger to himself.

Dimitri paused as he swept past Abel. If he had been one hundred percent he would have tried to engage with the
Sange rau
, but he had lost too much blood and the silver netting clearly wasn’t going to hold Abel for much longer. Fen would have to take care of him. The best Dimitri could do to aid his brother was to clear the storm so the sun could break through and help to guard the prince.

He sent word ahead that he was coming in fast and would need blood. He didn’t want to get caught in any of the traps set for vampires as he rushed down the tunnel to the back of the cavern. Mikhail had the safeguards down and immediately he offered his wrist. Dimitri didn’t hesitate. Mikhail’s blood was powerful and would aid in healing him.

Both Vikirnoff and Natalya began attending his wounds, trying to stop the flow of precious blood. He hadn’t realized just how many deep lacerations Bardolf had managed to inflict in the few brief encounters when they came together.

“You’re a little crazy,” Vikirnoff told him. “You know that, don’t you?”

“He’s coming,” Mikhail announced.

Dimitri nearly stopped taking blood, but Mikhail indicated to continue. “We need you as strong as possible.”

Dimitri politely took a little more blood and then closed the wound on the prince’s wrist. He watched Abel approach. The vampire looked terrible. Bloody crystal covered his face, producing a grotesque mask. His eyes looked black, surrounded by flaming red rather than white. He was covered in blood. Veins stood out starkly on exposed skin. The netting strands, as fine as they were, had been burned into his skin so that he was crisscrossed in raised welts.

He walked right up to the sheet of amber that prevented him from reaching the prince, and slammed his fist against the plate. The mountain shook. Dirt and rock fell from the ceiling. Mikhail didn’t so much as blink. He stood straight and tall, his dark eyes staring straight into Abel’s. He appeared totally confident.