Dark Slayer

Dark Series, Book 20

Christine Feehan

Айвори (Ivory) – одна из немногих карпатских женщин – большую часть своей жизни провела под защитой братьев. Но однажды ей удалось освободить мага Рэзвэна (Razvan) из пещеры, ставшей его тюрьмой. Теперь, им придется ускользать не только от врагов Карпатских охотников, но и от вампиров. Айвори чувствует, что Рэзвэн не тот, кем, он кажется на первый взгляд. Она поклялась, что поможет ему, даже если для этого ей придется противостоять всей расе Карпатцев, рискуя их жизнями, ради спасения их любви.

To Christopher Walker, who, according to Domini, is not as Zen as Razvan, but I disagree.

Be sure to go to http://www.christinefeehan.com/members/ to sign up for my PRIVATE book announcement list and download the FREE e-book of Dark Desserts. Please feel free to e-mail me at Christine@christinefeehan.com. I would love to hear from you.

I have so many people to thank for their invaluable help with this book:

Anita Toste, my sister, who writes poetry and always answers the call when I run out of rhymes and ideas for spells!

Dr. Christopher Tong, who is incredibly intelligent and can do just about anything. Did I say «just about»? I meant anything. Thank you so much for always, always being there no matter how busy you are. You are truly a gifted man and an amazing friend.

Cheryl Wilson, my dear friend, who came through just when I was in my darkest hour.

Domini Stottsberry, Kathie Frizlaff and Brian Feehan, who worked so hard to make this book the best it could be in every respect.

The mage walks forth as the Hell Gate closes Lightning strikes with his first order Energy spirals from his fingertips A spell does form upon his lips

Tall and dark, handsomely slender His silver eyes burn like lighted embers A power, a presence one cannot explain A drawing feeling that will not leave the brain

A longing, a yearning that burns like fire To be wanted and taken with heated desire The mage walks forth, unfolding his arms His victim comes quietly, succumbed by his charms

The embers of passion burst forth in flame As the mage draws heart's blood from deep within Consuming all, leaving no remains The victim languishes in untold pain

The mage, having taken body and soul, Now turns from the broken to seek one who is whole The pattern is set, the ending the same The mage needs heart's blood to be whole and remain

CHAPTER 1

Swirling mist veiled the mountains and crept into the deep forest, stringing layers of white through the snow-laden trees. Pockets of deep snow hid life beneath the cap of ice crystals and along the banks of the stream. Shrubs and fields of grass rose like statues, frozen in time. The snow gave the world a bluish cast. The forest, where icicles hung, and the stream, with its water frozen in bizarre shapes, seemed an eerie, alien world.

Clear, crisp and cold, the night sky shone bright with stars, and a full, glowing moon spilled a silvery light over the frozen ground. Silent shadows slipped through the trees and ice-coated bushes, moving with absolute stealth. Large paws made tracks in the snow, a good six inches in diameter, single file, the trail winding in and out through the trees and thick shrubbery.

Although they looked in good health, strong with steel muscles rippling beneath thick fur, the wolves were hungry and needed food to keep the pack alive through the long, brutal winter. The alpha suddenly stopped, going very still, sniffing the trail around him, lifting his nose to scent the wind. The others halted, wraiths only, silent shadows that immediately fanned out. The alpha moved forward, staying downwind while the others sank low, waiting.

A yard away, a large piece of raw meat lay on the trail, fresh, the scent wafting temptingly back toward the wolf. Wary, he circled, using his nose to detect potential danger. Scenting nothing but the meat, with his saliva running and his belly empty, he approached again, going downwind, angling toward the large piece of lifesaving food. He went in three times and backed away, but no hint of danger presented itself. He nosed in a fourth time and something slipped over his neck.

The alpha leapt back and the wire tightened. The more he struggled, the more the wire cut into him, strangling the air from his lungs and sawing through flesh. The pack circled, pacing, his female rushing to aid him. She began to struggle as another wire snared her neck, nearly knocking her off her feet.

For a moment there was a hush, broken only by the gasping breaths of the two trapped wolves. A twig snapped. The pack whirled and dissolved in a rush of fleeing shadows, back into the thicker cover of the trees. The bushes parted and a woman stepped into the open. She was dressed in black winter boots, black pants that rode low on her hips and a sleeveless vest of black that left her midriff bare and had three sets of steel buckles running down the middle of it. The six buckles were shiny, almost ornamental, with tiny crosses running up and around, embedded in the squared silver pieces.

A wealth of blue-black hair spilled beyond her waist, pulled back in a thick woven braid. The long hooded coat she wore, made of what appeared to be a single silver-tipped wolf pelt, fell all the way to her ankles. She carried a crossbow in one hand, a sword at one hip and a knife at the other. Arrows were slung in a quiver on her shoulder and all down the inside of the long wolf skin were small loops containing various sharp-bladed weapons. A low-slung holster adorned with rows of very small, flat, razor-sharp arrowheads housed a pistol on her hip.

She paused for a moment, surveying the scene. «Be still,» she hissed, both annoyance and authority in her soft voice.

At her command, both wolves ceased struggling instantly, waiting, bodies trembling, sides heaving and heads held low to ease the terrible pressure closing around their throats. The woman moved with fluid grace, flowing over the surface rather than sinking into the ice-crusted snow. She studied the snares, a multitude of them, disgust in her dark eyes.

«They have done this before,» she scolded. «I showed them to you, but you were too greedy, looking for an easy meal. I should let you die here in agony.» Even as she rebuked the wolves, she withdrew a pair of utility cutters from inside the wolf pelt and snipped the wires, freeing the wolves. She pushed her fingers into their fur and over the cuts deep in their throats, then clamped her palm over the slashes, chanting softly. White light burst under her hand, glowing around and through the wolves' fur.

«That should make you feel better,» she said, affection creeping into her tone as she scratched the ears of both wolves.

The alpha growled a warning and his mate bared her teeth; both were facing away from the woman. She smiled. «I smell him. It is impossible not to smell the foul stench of vampire.»

She turned her head and looked over her shoulder at the tall, powerful male emerging from the twisted, gnarled trunk of a large evergreen fir. The trunk gaped open, split nearly in two, blackened and peeled back, the needles on the outstretched limbs withering as the tree expelled the venomous creature from its depths. Icicles rained down like small spears as the branches shivered and shook, trembling from contact with such a foul creature.

The woman rose gracefully, turning to face her enemy, signaling to the wolves to melt back into the forest. «I see you have resorted to setting traps to get sustenance these days, Cristofor. Are you so slow and foul that you can no longer lure a human to use as food?»

«Slayer!» The vampire's voice seemed rusty, as if his vocal cords were rarely used. «I knew if I brought your pack to me, you would come.»

Her eyebrow shot up. «A pretty invitation then, Cristofor. I remember you from the old days when you were a young man, still handsome to look upon. I left you alone for old times' sake, but I see you crave the sweet release of death. Well, old friend, so be it.»

«They say you cannot be killed,» Cristofor said. «The legend that haunts all vampires. Our leaders say to leave you alone.»

«Your leaders? You have joined them then, banded together against the prince and his people? Why seek death when you have a plan to rule every country? The world?» She laughed softly. «It seems to me that this is a silly wish, and a lot of work. In the old days, we lived simply. Those were happy days. Do you not recall them?»

Cristofor studied her flawless face. «I was told you were pieced together, one strip of flesh at a time, yet your face and body are as you were in the old days.»

She shrugged her shoulders, refusing to allow the images of those dark years, the suffering and pain-agony really-when her body refused to die and lay deep in the earth, stripped of flesh and open to the crawling insects abounding in the dirt. She kept her face serene, smiling, but inside she was still, coiled, ready to explode into action.

«Why not join us? You have more reason than any other to hate the prince.»

«And join the very ones who betrayed and mutilated me? I do not think so. I wage war where it is due.» She flexed her fingers inside the skintight, thin gloves. «You really should not have touched my wolves, Cristofor. You have left me little choice.»

«I want your secret. Give it to me and I will let you live.»

She smiled then, a beautiful smile, her teeth small and pearl white. Her lips were red and full, a teasing, sexy curve inviting him to share the humor. She tilted her head to one side, her gaze moving over his face, assessing him carefully. «I had no idea you had become such a fool, Cristo.» She called him the name she had used when they were children playing together. Before. When the world was right. «I am the slayer of vampires. You summoned me with your traps»-she waved a contemptuous hand-«and you think I should be intimidated by you?»

He grinned at her, an evil, malicious smile. «You have become arrogant, Slayer. And careless. You had no idea the trap was for you and not your precious wolves. You have no choice but to give me what I want, or you die this night.»

Ivory shrugged her slender shoulders and the silvery full-length coat rippled, moved as if alive. One moment it loosely flowed around her ankles and the next it was gone, settling over her skin until six ferocious wolf tattoos adorned her body from the small of her back to her neck, wrapping around each arm like sleeves.

«So be it,» she said softly, her eyes on his.

Spinning, she drew her sword with one hand, rushing toward him, going up and over a snowcapped boulder to launch her body into the air. She felt the bite of a hidden snare, and inwardly cursed as the noose closed around her neck. Already she was dissolving, but blood spattered across the snow in bright crimson drops.

Cristofor laughed and leaned down to scoop up a handful of snow to lick at the droplets, savoring the taste of pure Carpathian blood. Not just pure-the slayer was Ivory Malinov, from one of the strongest Carpathian lineages possible. He followed the arc of blood, saw her forming a few feet from him, closer to the tree line, and satisfaction made him cackle.

Ivory saluted him with two fingers, touched the thin line running across her neck and put her finger in her mouth, sucking off the blood. «Nice score. I did not see that coming and I shall have to apologize to my wolves for scolding them. But Cristo, if you believe your partner back there in the woods is going to help you after slaying my wolf pack, you are doing some serious underestimating of your own.»

She ran forward again, her hand low, drawing and throwing the small arrowheads, snapping them with tremendous strength so each buried itself deep into his body, in a straight line from belly to neck. The vampire roared and tried to shift. His legs disappeared, melting into vapor. His head swirled and disappeared. Fog drifted in from the trees in an attempt to help conceal him, congealing around his body, forming a thick veil. The torso remained, that straight, damaging line from belly to neck exposing his heart.

Her sword sank deep, her body weight, strength and momentum from her run driving the blade through the body right beneath the heart. The vampire screamed horribly. Acidlike blood poured from the wound, sizzling over the sword and splattering across the snow. The metal should have been eaten through, but the coating the slayer used protected it, as well as prevented that portion of his body from shifting. She turned her body in a dancer's spin, sword over her head, still stuck inside his chest so that she cut a circular hole around his heart.

Ivory withdrew the sword and plunged her hand deep. «I showed you my secret,» she whispered. «Take it to your grave.» She withdrew the heart and flung it away from her, lifting her arms to call down a sword of lightning.

The jagged bolt incinerated the heart and then jumped to the body, burning it clean. «Find peace, Cristofor,» she whispered and hung her head, leaning on her sword, tears shimmering briefly for her lost boyhood friend.

So many were gone now. Nothing remained of the life she'd once known. She took a deep breath, drawing in the crisp night before cleaning her sword and all trace of the vampire's blood from the snow. She retrieved the eight small arrowheads and slid them into the loops on her holster before holding out her arms for the silver-tipped pelt. The tattoos moved, emerging, sliding once more over her body in the form of a coat. She allowed the silvery full-length garment to settle over her body slowly before picking up her weapons and drawing up the hood. At once she seemed to disappear, blending seamlessly with the layers of white fog.

Ivory moved in silence, feeling the hostile energy radiating from her pack. They were under attack and her wall of protection was weakening. She'd thrown the shield up around them hastily when she scented the second predator. Had he not been quite so eager for the kill, and stayed downwind, he might have managed to kill her wild wolf pack. She couldn't reuse the arrowheads on him; the vampire's acidic blood would have eaten through most of the coating. She had very little time to kill her enemy once she buried the small, lethal wedges in the vampire's body before that acidic blood ate through the coating and allowed her enemy to shift.

Weaving through the trees, the slayer stayed low to the ground, taking on the shape of a wolf. With her silver-tipped pelt it would be difficult to distinguish her from the other wolves in the area as she slipped through the trees toward the second vampire. She sank behind a fallen tree, studying the man hurling fireballs at the wolves. He had cornered them just at the water's edge, where the ice was thin and dangerous. She could see cracks spreading along the thin shield she'd thrown up where the vampire continually battered at it.

She took a breath, released it, and let herself find that place deep inside where there was stillness. Where there was resolve. In human form now, she stood and ran at the vampire, firing the crossbow as she went. Again, her aim was for his torso. She caught him as he turned, one arrow slicing into his lower back, the second missing altogether. He flung the fireball at her and Ivory somersaulted on the ground, letting it fly over her head. Then she was up on her feet, still running, always advancing, shooting at him with the crossbow.

The vampire howled in rage, the sound cut off abruptly as an arrow slammed deep into his throat. Her wolves threw themselves at the wall, frantic to come to her aid, but she knew the vampire would simply destroy them all. On the other hand…

The slayer shrugged, this time sending her thick, silver-tipped wolf pelt away from her. The heavy coat landed in the snow, widespread, the fur rippling as if alive. The hood stretched and elongated, and each sleeve did the same, moving with life as the body of the coat formed three separate shapes to match the ones emerging from the hood and sleeves. Ivory didn't wait for her companions to shift to their normal forms; she rolled across the snow, coming up on one knee, firing two more coated arrows into the vampire's chest while he was distracted by the six newly formed wolves.

The vampire hissed, his eyes glowing hot with hatred. He tried to shift, but only his legs, belly and head took the shape of a multi-armed beast, leaving his heart exposed. He realized he was trapped, but was fully aware of the small arrow weakening in his back as the metal was destroyed by his acidic blood. He whirled, sending up a spout of snow, gathering the wind to him and hurling it outward, creating an instant blizzard as the snow was drawn into his circle and flung out around him.

It was impossible to see the vampire in the center of that storm, but the wolves leapt through the swirl of icy snow, guided by scent to attack, tearing at his legs and arms, the alpha going for the throat in an effort to bring him down. The slayer followed them into the circle, knife in hand, hurling herself into the frenzied fray. One of the wolves yelped, and then screamed as the vampire ripped open its sides with curled, slashing talons and flung its body at her.

Ivory dropped her crossbow and caught the wolf as it slammed into her chest, driving her backward. The blizzard slashed across her face without mercy, tearing at her exposed skin as she went down, the wolf on top of her. She put the alpha's injured body aside as gently as possible and crawled forward fast, covering the snowcapped ground like a snake, picking up the crossbow and loading it as she slithered forward. Firing rapidly, she struck him three more times, exploding to her feet right in front of him, driving the knife deep, her hand wrapped around the hilt, following as the blade sliced through bone and sinew in an effort to get to the heart.

The vampire reared back, spittle and blood foaming around his mouth. He slammed his fist at her chest, trying to get at her heart, striking the double row of buckles. Howling, he withdrew his hand, the burn marks evident in the flesh of his knuckles. The tiny imprints of crosses woven into the silver and blessed with holy water had burned through his flesh almost to the bone.

The vampire roared, clubbing at her throat in spite of the wolves hanging on his arms. His nails scraped across her neck and shoulder, gouging flesh away as he struggled wildly. The alpha male hit him full force in the torso, driving him back and away from Ivory before those poison-tipped talons could pierce her jugular.

Ivory leapt on him, punching down with her fist, reaching for the heart, ignoring the acid as it poured over her coated gloves and began burning through them quickly. The vampire thrashed and ripped at her, but the wolves pinned him down as she extracted the pulsing black heart, flinging it from her and raising her hand toward the sky.

Lightning zigzagged, streaked down and slammed into the heart, jolting the ground. The wolves leapt out of the way and the bolt of cleansing energy jumped to the body, incinerating the vampire and cleaning her arrows. Wearily, Ivory bathed her gloves in the light and then sank down into the snow, sitting for a moment, hanging her head, struggling to draw in air when her lungs were burning with need.

One of the wolves licked at her wounds in an effort to heal her. She managed a small smile and laid her fingers in the fur of the alpha female, rubbing her face in the soft pelt for comfort. These wolves, saved from death so many years earlier, more even than she remembered, were her only companions-her family. They were her true pack and she owed no loyalty to any other but them.

«Come here, Raja,» she crooned to the big male. «Let me take a look at the damage.»

Still trapped behind the shield she'd created to protect the natural wolf pack from the vampire, the alpha roared a challenge. Raja ignored him as he'd done so many others over the years. The natural pack lived and died, the cycle of nature intervening, and he'd learned such petty rivalries didn't touch him. He sent the natural alpha a look of pure disdain and crawled to Ivory, lying on his side so she could inspect his wounds. She'd healed him countless times over the years, just as his sisters and brothers healed the slayer's wounds, their saliva containing the healing agents.

She scraped snow from the frozen ground and dug deep until she had good soil. Mixing her saliva with the soil, she packed the wounds and then hugged him. «Thank you, my brother. As so many times before, you've saved my life.»

He nuzzled her and waited patiently while she inspected each of the pack. The strongest female, Ayame, named after the demon princess wolf, cuddled close to him, inspecting his wounds and passing her tongue over the other scratches he'd received. Their littermates formed the rest of the pack: Blaez, his second in command; Farkas, the last male; and Rikki and Gynger, the two smaller females. They crowded around Ivory, pressing close to her battered and bruised body in an effort to aid her.

The littermates, born of different parents, were very distinctive with their thick, silver-tipped coats, a shimmering fall of luxurious fur, all larger than normal, even the two smaller females. All had the blue eyes from their puppy days when Ivory had tracked blood and death back to the den, finding the mangled bodies of her natural wolf pack all those years ago. Even then, she'd become a scourge to the vampires, a whisper, the beginnings of legend and they'd sought to destroy her. Instead, they'd killed and mutilated the bodies of the wolf pack she'd befriended.

She had found the puppies dying, their torn bodies wriggling across the blood-soaked ground, trying to find their mothers. She couldn't bear to lose them, her only family, her only contact with warmth and affection, and she'd fed them her blood out of sheer desperation to keep them alive. Carpathian blood. Hot and healing. She'd stayed in the den with them, back away from the light of day, nearly starving herself. Forced, again out of desperation, to take small amounts of blood from them to stay alive. She hadn't realized she was giving blood exchanges, until the largest and most dominant of the pups underwent the change.

The pups had retained their blue eyes as they'd grown, the Carpathian blood giving them the ability to shift. Their ability to communicate with Ivory had saved them, giving them the necessary psychic brain function to live through the conversion. Like Ivory, they had been wounded a thousand times in battle, but over the past century they'd learned how to successfully bring down a vampire, the seven of them working as a team.

She lay back in the snow, catching her breath, letting her body absorb the pain of her wounds. The one in her neck throbbed and burned and she knew she had to cleanse it immediately. She was impervious to the cold, as were all Carpathians. Her race was as old as time, nearly immortal, as she had discovered, to her horror, when the prince's son had betrayed her to the vampires for his own gain. She'd never known such agony, an endless battle deep in the earth as years went by and her body refused to die.

She must have made a sound, although she didn't hear herself. She thought her cry was silent, but the wolves pressed closer, trying to comfort her, and the natural pack behind the shield took up the cry. Looking up at the night sky, she let her wolves soothe her, their love and devotion a balm whenever she thought too much about her former life. Time was creeping forward. This time of day was as much an enemy as the vampire. She had to hurry to get to her lair, and there was still much to be done before dawn.

Ivory pressed her fingers to her burning eyes and forced her body to move. First, she removed the poison from the lesions in her flesh, where the vampire's poison-tipped claws had torn her open. The vampires who'd banned together used tiny wormlike parasites to identify one another, and those parasites infected any open wound. She had to push them through her pores fast, before they could take hold and require a much more in-depth healing. Again she brought down the lightning to kill them before mixing soil and saliva to pack her own wounds.

«Ready?» she asked her family, picking up her weapons and shoving the used arrows back into her pack. She never left a weapon or an arrow behind, careful that her formula didn't fall into the hands of the vampires, or worse: Xavier, her mortal enemy.

Ivory stretched out her arms and the pack leapt together, forming the full-length coat in the air as they shifted, covering her body, the hood over her head and flowing pelt surrounding her with warmth and affection. She was never alone when she traveled with her pack. No matter where she went, how many days or weeks she traveled, they traveled with her, keeping her from going insane. She'd learned to be alone and had the wolf 's natural wariness of strangers. She had no friends, only enemies, and she was comfortable that way.

Striding through the snow, she waved her hand and allowed the shield to disintegrate. The natural wolf pack milled around her, weaving in and out between her legs and sniffing at her coat and boots, greeting her as a member of the pack. The alpha marked every bush and tree in the vicinity to cover Raja's scent marks. Ivory rolled her eyes at the display of dominance.

«Males are the same the world over, no matter what the species,» she said aloud and checked the wolves one by one, assuring herself the vampire hadn't harmed any of them.

«All right. Let's get you fed before dawn. I have a ways to travel and the night's fading,» she told the pack. Catching the alpha's muzzle, she looked into his eyes. Find and drive prey to me and I'll bring it down for you. Hurry though, I don't have much time.

Although she talked to her own pack all the time and they understood her, it was easier with a wild pack to convey the order in images, rather than in words. She added a sense of urgency at the same time. She needed to begin the trek back to her lair. Ordinarily she would fly, and each of her weapons was made of something natural that could shift with her, to transport her arsenal over long distances. But first she had to help the pack find food. She didn't want to lose them over the winter, and another storm was coming in soon.

The wolf pack melted away, once again fading into the forest to look for prey. She shouldered her crossbow and began walking through the wilderness in the direction of her home. She'd only make a few miles before the pack would flush something her way, but she would be that much closer to home-and safety.

She understood little about the modern way of life. She'd been buried beneath the ground for so long, the world was unrecognizable when she'd risen. She'd learned, over time, that the prince's son Mikhail had replaced him as the ruler of the Carpathians, and his second in command, as always, was a Daratrazanoff. She knew little else of them, but even the Carpathian world had changed drastically.

There were so few of her species, the race nearing extinction, and who knew? Maybe it was for the best. Maybe their time was long past. So few women and children had been born over the last few centuries that the race was nearly wiped out. She wasn't part of that world any longer, any more than she was part of the human modern-day world. She knew little of technology, other than from books she read, and she had no concept of what it would be like to live in a house or village, town or-God forbid-a city.

She quickened her steps, and again glanced at the sky. She would give the wolf pack another twenty minutes to flush game before she took flight. As it was, she was pushing her luck. She didn't want to be caught out in the light of dawn. She'd spent so much of her life underground that she hadn't developed the resistance to the sun as many of her kind had done, able to stay out in the early morning hours. The moment the sun began to rise she could feel the burn.

Of course, it might have something to do with her skin taking so long to renew itself, scraped from her body as it had been until she'd been nothing but bones and a mass of raw tissue. Sometimes, when she first woke, she still felt the blades going through bone and organs as they chopped her into little pieces and scattered her across the meadow, left to be eaten by the wolves. She remembered the sound of their rasping laughter as they carried out the orders given to them by her worst enemy-Xavier.

The wind began to increase in strength and dark clouds drifted overhead, heralding the coming storm. She sought the haven of the trees and took refuge, closing her eyes to seek the wolf pack. They had discovered a doe, thin and drawn from the winter, hobbling a bit from an injury to her old body. Giving chase, the pack had taken turns, running her toward Ivory.

She whispered softly, asking for the doe's forgiveness, explaining the need to feed the pack as she lifted her weapon and waited. Minutes passed. Ice cracked with a loud snap, disturbing the silence. Hard breath burst from lungs in a rapid puff of steam as the deer broke through the trees and ran full-out over the icy ground.

Behind the doe, a wolf ran, silent, deadly, hungry, moving across the expanse of ice on large paws. Surrounding them, the pack came in from various angles, keeping the doe running straight toward Ivory. They'd hunted this way more than once, bringing the prey to her in desperate times.

Ivory waited until she had a killing shot, not wanting the doe to suffer before releasing her arrow and taking the animal down. Before the alpha could approach the carcass, snarling at the others to wait until he had his fill, she hurried to it and retrieved her arrow, striding away fast, not wanting to use energy to control a starving pack when there was a banquet in front of them.

Increasing her speed until she was running, Ivory sprang into the sky, shifting, the wolves sliding over her skin to become ferocious tattoos as they streaked through the clouds with her. She always felt the joy of traveling this way, as if a burden was lifted from her shoulders each time she took to the air. Spinning dark clouds helped to ease the light on her skin as she moved quickly toward her home. Maybe that was what made her feel less weighted down-that she was heading home, where she felt safe and secure.

She'd never learned to be relaxed and at ease aboveground where her enemies could come at her from any direction. She kept her lair secret, leaving no traces near her entrance, so no one had the opportunity to track her. Her unique warning/protection system would never be detected; of that she was certain. The entrance wasn't protected with the usual spell, so if a Carpathian or vampire found her lair, they wouldn't know it was occupied or even existed. She'd learned many years earlier what levels underground her enemies were most comfortable at, and she avoided them.

Ten miles from her lair, she went to earth, landing, still running, skimming across the surface, arms outstretched so her wolves could hunt. They all needed blood, and with all seven of them spreading out, they'd run across a hunter or a cabin. If not, she would go into the closest village and bring back enough to sustain the pack. She was very careful not to hunt near home, not unless she absolutely had to.

As she slipped through the trees, the mountain rising high in the distance, she came across tracks. An early morning wanderer out to get wood perhaps, or doing some hunting himself. She crouched low and touched the tracks in the snow. A big man. That was always good. And he was alone. That was even better. Hunger gnawed at her now that she'd allowed herself to become aware of it. Ivory ran in the footsteps, following the male as he made his way through the trees.

The forest gave way to a clearing where a small cabin and outhouse sat, a stream bisecting the meadow surrounding it. Ordinarily the cabin was empty, but the tracks led through the snow and inside. A thin trail of smoke began to float from the chimney, telling her he'd just come to the hunting cabin and lit a fire.

Ivory threw her head back and howled, calling to her pack. She waited on the edge of the clearing and the man stepped outside, rifle in his hands, looking at the surrounding forest. That lonely call had spooked him and he waited, quartering the area around his house.

Ivory took to the sky again, moving with the wind, part of the drifting mist surrounding the house. She stood above her prey on the roof while he studied the forest and then, with a small curse, went inside. She saw the shadows flitting among the trees and gestured to them. The pack sank down, waiting.

The crack beneath the cabin door was wide enough for the mist to flow through, and Ivory entered the room, warm now from the crackling fire. Only one room, with a small fireplace and cooking stove, the cabin had the barest of amenities. In modern times, even the poorest of the villagers had such few trappings. She watched the man from a dark corner of the room as he poured water into a pot and set it on the fire to boil.

Crossing the room, she materialized almost in front of him, slipping between him and the fire, her will already reaching for his to calm him and make him more accepting. His eyes widened and then glazed over. Ivory led him to a chair where she could seat him. She was tall, much taller than many women in the villages, a gift from her Carpathian heritage, but this mountain of a man was still taller. She found the pulse beating on the side of his neck and sank her teeth deep.

The taste was exquisite, hot blood flowing, cells filling and bursting with life. Sometimes she forgot just how good it was to feast on the real thing. Animal blood could sustain life, but true strength and energy came from humans. She savored every drop, appreciating the life-giving blood, grateful to the man, although he wouldn't remember he had donated. She planted a dream, slightly erotic, wholly pleasing, not wanting the experience to be unpleasant for him.

She flicked her tongue across the puncture wounds to close the two holes and erase all evidence that she'd been there. She got him a drink of water and pressed it to his mouth, commanding him to drink, and then she set another one beside him and tucked a blanket close to keep his body heat up before leaving.

The pack met her in the deeper woods, surrounding her the moment she called to them. The alpha male came first, leaning against her knee as she knelt and offered her wrist, the blood welling up. He licked the wound from her left wrist while the female fed from her right one. She fed all six wolves and then sat for a moment in the snow, recovering. She'd taken quite a lot from the woodsman, although she'd been careful that he could still function, not wanting to risk him freezing to death before he recovered, and she was a little drained after the fight with the vampires and then feeding the pack.

She rose slowly and held out her arms, waiting for the wolves to shift back into tattoos covering her skin. As they merged with her, she felt a little more revived, the wolves giving her their energy. Again she ran and leapt into the sky, shifting as she did so, giving her body wings as she flew over the forest, heading home.

The clouds were heavy and full, and small gusts of wind blew in the mist, blotting out the rising sun. The mountains rose in front of her-snowcapped and high-hiding warmth and home beneath the layers of rock. She found herself smiling. We're home, she sent to the pack. Almost. She had to scout before she dropped down, check for strangers in her area.

She felt the wolves reach out with each of their senses just as she did, never taking safety for granted. It was how she'd managed to stay alive for so many years. Trusting no one. Speaking to no one unless she was far from her dwelling. Leaving no tracks. No trace. The slayer appeared and then vanished.

She worked her way in an ever-tightening circle, closer and closer to her lair, all the while scanning for blank spaces that might indicate a vampire, or for the disruption of energy that meant a mage could be in the area. Smoke and noise might be humans. Carpathians were more difficult, but she had a sixth sense about them and could hide herself if she felt one near.

As she began her spiral downward, unease rippled through her body and then through the wolves. Below her, through the layers of mist, she caught glimpses of something dark lying motionless in the snow. The snow began to fall, adding to her loss of vision, and she knew by the prickly sensation crawling over her skin that the sun had begun to rise. Every instinct told her to increase her speed and make it to her lair before the sun broke over the mountain, but something far older, far deeper, deterred her.

She couldn't turn away from the sprawled body lying in the snow, already being covered with the new falling powder. O kod belso-darkness take it. Cursing ancient Carpathian oaths that would have shocked her five brothers in the old days, when she remained their protected, adored baby sister, she set her feet down in the snow and threw her arms out to allow her pack to leap down.

The wolves approached the carcass wearily, circling in silence. The man didn't move. His clothes were torn, exposing part of his emaciated torso and belly to the gleaming, hungry eyes. Raja moved in, two steps only, while the pack continued to circle the body. The alpha female, Ayame, stepped in behind the male and Raja turned and snarled at her. Ayame leapt back and whirled around, baring her teeth at her mate.

Ivory took a wary step closer as Raja resumed sniffing the motionless man. He'd once been a powerful male, no doubt about it. He was taller than the average human by several inches. His hair was long and thick, a black-gray pelt that was loose and unkempt. Blood and dirt were caught in the thick strands, matting his hair in places. She leaned over Raja to get a closer look and something inside her shifted.

Gasping, she pulled back abruptly, her body actually turning, ready to flee. He had the strong bones of a Carpathian male, a straight aristocratic nose, and deep lines of suffering cut into his once-handsome face. But what really caught her attention and terrified her was the birthmark showing through his torn, thin shirt. She could see the dragon on his hip. It was no tattoo; he'd been born with that mark.

Dragonseeker. Her breath rushed from her lungs in a long gasp. Around her the snow continued to fall and the world became white, all sound muted. She could hear her heartbeat, too fast, adrenaline pumping through her body, her blood roaring in her ears.

Raja nudged her leg, indicating they should leave the body where it lay. She took a breath, even though her lungs could barely drag in air. Her body actually shivered. She turned away, signaling to the wolves to leave him, but her feet refused to work. She couldn't take a single step. The man with that ravaged face, too-thin body and barely a pulse, held her to him.

She raised her face to the heavens, letting the snow cover it like a white mask. «Why now?» she asked softly. A plea. A prayer. «Why are you asking this of me now? Don't you think you've taken enough from me?» She stood waiting for an answer. Lightning to strike, maybe. Something. Anything. Her whispered entreaty was met with implacable silence.

Raja gave a series of whines. Come away, little sister. Leave him. He obviously disturbs you. Come away before the sun is high.

For the first time in hundreds of years, she'd forgotten the sun. She'd forgotten safety. Everything she knew, everything she'd learned-it was all gone because of this man. She wanted to go away. She needed to go away, but everything in her was drawn to this one man. Palafertiilam-lifemate-her lifemate-the curse of all Carpathian women.

I vory crouched down beside the fallen man, her fingers gliding over his face, around to his neck to feel his pulse. It was unnecessary. Her heart had slowed to match the impossibly slow beat of his. She brushed the snow from his face and began a minute examination of his wounds. His body was crisscrossed in scars-nearly as bad as her own, should she allow anyone to see her as she was. His skin was ice-cold. Every Carpathian learned from childhood how to control the temperature in their bodies, yet he was freezing.

Little sister! Raja's whine ended in a growl of warning. The sun is climbing.

If she didn't take him, he would die here in the open. Her heart stuttered as she looked back at his tracks. That had been his intention. From the old and fresh scars on his ankles and wrists, she could tell he had been chained, the links coated with vampire blood, burning into his flesh each time he moved. She knew one man who used that method of imprisonment: Xavier, the high mage. The Dragonseeker had escaped captivity and instead of heading toward one of the villages to seek aid, he had gone into the forest interior, making his way to the most remote side of the mountain where the sun could claim him.

The pack milled around, uneasy now, casting glances up at the sky. The snow began to come down harder, coating the silvery pelts. Cursing, Ivory reached for him, pulling him into a sitting position so she could lift him.

His eyes snapped open-dark swirling pits of suffering, of determination, of resolve. This was a man honed in the fires of hell, a man who'd suffered unbearable agony and set his mind in stone. There would be no manipulating him; she could see and feel that as his energy surrounded her.

«Leave me.» His voice gave a hoarse command.

She felt the mental push behind the brusque order and hastily shut out the compulsion. The telepathic coercion affected her wolves; she could see them back away, and she waved her hand to hold them. Only her long and very tight bond with the pack held them to her under the strength of that compulsion-and that told her a lot about this man. In spite of being so weak, half-starved and emaciated, he was incredibly strong-and dangerous.

She wasn't about to open her mouth. She shook her head mutely and went to lift him. The Dragonseeker pulled back and laid his hand on her arm with surprising gentleness. She felt the jolt of electricity and her body tingled, sudden awareness forcing the air from her lungs in a hissing rush.

«You do not understand,» he said. «You are in terrible danger just being close to me. I have powerful enemies and they can reach you through me.»

Again she felt the warning compulsion in his voice. He radiated purity-truth. He wanted her to leave him knowing it was a death sentence-not just a death sentence, but that he would die in absolute agony, one slow inch at a time. She cursed again. She had no choice but to speak and he would know the truth. Her species had one mate. One. They could look the world over, through centuries of living and unless they connected to that one person, the one who shared the other half of their soul, they were not true lifemates.

If she spoke, he would know. He would see in color, he would feel emotion-not just remember it. He would know-and maybe he already did-that she was his other half. She knew she had no choice. He would fight her, try to force her to leave him and he had to know she couldn't, that it was virtually impossible to do such a thing no matter how much she might want to. Ivory gave a slow shake of her head.

The Dragonseeker put his hand up and she knew he was about to speak. She spoke first. «I cannot and I think you know why. If you do not want my pack-and me-to suffer the sun burning us, you must cooperate.»

She saw the shock register on his face. His body actually flinched as if from a body blow and he squeezed his eyes shut tight for what seemed an interminable amount of time as if his returning colors and emotions were too overwhelming, too dazzling for him to process. In truth, he didn't seem to welcome the news any more than she had, but she was fully aware that he felt that same pull toward her as she did toward him. When he opened his eyes, the color was swirling, dark, almost black, and then mixing into a deep emerald green before going back to a midnight blue. He blinked and the effect was gone. He took a breath. Let it out.

«My mortal enemy is Xavier, the high mage. He can possess my body at will and often does, slipping in and out of me and committing hideous, vile crimes against all peoples: mage, human and Carpathian alike. You cannot stay near me. He is weak at the moment, which is why he has not overtaken my body and forced it back. This is my only chance to escape him.»

Ivory sank back on her heels and stared into the dark, ravaged eyes. He was telling the truth. Xavier. He had set in motion things that could never be undone. He had commanded the vampires to chop her body into pieces. He was an incomparable monster like the world had never known, and he couldn't be allowed to regain power.

«Your enemy is my greatest enemy,» she said. She had so many.

«Leave me. Hide yourself. If I die here, he cannot use me to harm any other.»

Little sister! Come away from this place. Take us home. This time Raja bared his teeth, his voice demanding.

Sister-kin. The rest of the pack took up the desperate cry.

Ivory felt the burning itch begin along her bare neck and arms. In spite of the thick snow falling around her, she was that sensitive, or maybe it was a fear she'd developed over the years. It mattered little.

«How does he possess you?»

«I gave him an opening.» His gaze held hers captive as he made his confession. «There was a young mage woman who was kind to me. At that time, without my knowledge, Xavier was experimenting with ways to possess a body. He used mine to impregnate women. He wanted a blood supply and thought having children would do it for him. I am his grandson.»

Ivory raised her arms to allow the pack to merge with her skin. Grateful that she was at long last preparing to go, the pack took their places one by one, covering her back and arms as if they were only ink on her skin and not immortal creatures. She never took her eyes from her lifemate, never changed expression even though inside she could hear herself screaming.

«The young woman had my child, a little girl, quite beautiful. She was amazing and talented. We were all held prisoner. My aunts, me, my child's mother and beautiful little Lara. I didn't want him to kill Lara as he'd ultimately killed her mother, and I told him I would do anything.»

She gasped in disbelief. «To the high mage? You traded your soul? To the high mage?» She felt a little idiotic repeating herself, but who did that? Who would be that . . .

«At the time, I had been tortured severely. He had left Lara's mother's dead body to rot in front of us, and I could not bear for Lara to be tortured. In truth, I was not thinking clearly.» He shook his head. «I cannot remember facts accurately anymore. Time has blurred together for me. But you cannot trust me. He can take this body at any time and force me to do unspeakable things to those I love. I have betrayed everyone who ever meant anything to me.»

«And yet you fought him. You still fight him.»

«I am my father's son. Xavier killed him as well and tried to possess my sister. I would not let him have her. I traded my life for hers and then my soul for my daughter. I have nothing left for you.»

Those piercing eyes never once left her face, and if there was regret or remorse in his confession, she didn't hear it. He had traded his life and was willing to die this day, as the sun came up, to protect everyone else, Ivory included.

«He cannot have you,» she said. «I am sorry, but if what you say is true, then I have no choice but to render you unconscious so you do not know the way to my lair.»

For the first time his expression changed. «You cannot take me there, woman. I forbid it.» Both hands came up, and she felt the beginnings of the spell he was casting, one to force her compliance.

She was faster. Palms out, she shattered his spell so that small sparks clashed between them. She whispered softly and he blinked and fought for a moment, but starved and weak, his head slipped to one side as his eyes closed.

Ivory didn't hesitate once she'd made up her mind. She slung the Dragonseeker over her shoulder and took to the sky, racing the sun as it climbed toward the higher peaks. She streaked up through the driving snow, scanning the trails leading into the mountains for tracks of human vampire hunters, rare now, but still a menace to her kind. She let her senses flair out, seeking signs of the undead who may have taken refuge near her lair, or a stray hunter, one of the Carpathian males she was careful to hide her existence from.

In midflight, she found herself rolling her eyes. A fat lot of good that had done her when she'd stumbled across her lifemate, just lying out in the snow, so thin and drawn, so emaciated from starvation and suffering that she couldn't be heartless enough to leave him there.

«O jela peje terad-sun scorch you, palafertiilam-lifemate,» she hissed aloud.

It had never occurred to her that she would find herself in such a predicament. A male. She was bringing a sodden male to her home. Her haven. She should have told him terad keje-get scorched-and been done with him, but no, she had to be a simpering female and take the blasted man home with her.

She made for the gap between the two tall, towering columns of rock rising like horns above the mountain. The rock seemed solid and no one, in all the years she'd been residing there, had ever found that thin crack in the left rock that ran from the inside around to the base, where the tower met the mountain peak itself. It took a moment to disable her intricate mineralogical alarm/protection system so she could pass through with the male. She blew gently into the wind, stirring the snow into a mini-blizzard, covering her drop as she entered vaporized, pouring like fog into the crack and making her way down through the inside of the mountain.

Passing layers of rock, crystal caves and ice, all the while using the small crack that ran from the highest point to deep beneath the ground, she moved steadily lower until heat began to warm her and the pressure on her body increased. It always took a few moments to adjust to the depth beneath the earth, but over the years her body had adapted. If the Dragonseeker had been held prisoner by Xavier, then he'd been underground in the ice caves where Xavier ruled and his body would be somewhat acclimatized to the depths.

She continued down, past the caves where bats dwelled and even lower beyond the depths of the ice caves, where no Carpathian she knew ever slept. She'd found rich soil and a hollowed out cavern. Over the centuries she'd enlarged her living quarters to include several rooms. She'd brought in books, storing them on the floor-to-ceiling shelves she'd created. She'd painstakingly re-created each spell book she'd studied when she'd attended school under Xavier, back in the old days when Xavier had been thought to be a friend of the Carpathian people.

Her furniture suited her and her candles were made with the best healing fragrances and minerals she could find. In enlarging her lair, she'd come across a small flow of water, and although it had taken nearly seventy-five years, she'd hollowed out a natural basin in the solid rock and formed a pool for herself. She loved her pool, the cool, clean water that always flowed and cascaded down through the floor into the next bed of rock beneath them.

Once down in her lair, she reprogrammed her unique alarm system with its gems that not only weighed the mass dropping through the crack but provided light for her far beneath the surface. She shrugged off the wolves the moment she was inside her home, allowing them to take their natural forms, while she strode through the outer rooms, her sitting room where the wolves liked to curl up while she read or painted or played her instrument, and then the rooms where she did her metal work, constructing her weapons, before going down the stairs leading to the last room where they all slept.

A violin lay in a case against one wall of her bedchamber; nearby sat a deep rock basin that she'd filled with the richest soil. She set the Dragonseeker down on the rejuvenating earth and studied him a moment. He was struggling, fighting off the slumber spell. She had the feeling he hadn't been as deep as she'd intended, but all that really mattered was that he hadn't seen the location of her lair.

Taking a deep breath, she laid aside her weapons and reversed the spell. The Dragonseeker, in spite of his starved and weakened condition, came up out of the soil, his eyes mercilessly angry. She fell back away from him, landing on her rear so that she had to tilt her head up to see him.

«What have you done, woman?» he roared.

Before she could answer, Raja burst into the room and hurled himself at the intruder's throat. He launched himself high, teeth bared.

«No!» Ivory commanded.

The Dragonseeker caught the huge wolf by the neck, the force of the attack driving him back into the bed of soil. She saw his hands clamp down like a vise. The wolf fought instinctively for air.

Little brother, he is not an enemy. He is my mate. She bared her teeth at the wolf and he went still and submissive in the Dragonseeker's hands.

«Let him go,» Ivory ordered. «Do it now, or I will retaliate.»

The Dragonseeker raised his eyebrow, his hands remaining firm around the wolf 's neck. «You seek to threaten me with bodily harm? I doubt there is much you can do that has not already been done. And if you desire to kill me, that is my wish, so I do not believe that it will serve your purpose to intimidate me.»

She spat out another curse. «Veridet peje-may your blood burn!»

He released the wolf a little warily, keeping his gaze fixed on the large alpha and not on Ivory, which only served to irritate her more, as if he thought the animal was more of a threat to him than she was.

«My blood has burned on many occasions, avio palafertiilam-my lifemate.»

Her breath hissed out of her lungs. «Do not ever say 'my lifemate' to me. I am not yours. I belong to no one. I trust no one, least of all the grandson of Xavier and a Dragonseeker on top of that.» She put every ounce of contempt and disgust that she could summon into her voice.

Before he could respond, Ivory switched her attention to Raja who, picking up on her mood, was baring his teeth again, low warning growls rumbling in his throat. Little brother, I have no patience now to deal with two males and their egos. Go to your mate who will soothe your nerves and leave me to deal with this… this… There was no word bad enough to describe him.

The wolf sent the Dragonseeker one last look of warning and then loped out of the room, leaving them alone in the bedchamber.

Ivory moved back across the floor until there was space between herself and the Dragonseeker. She pressed her back to the wall, fighting to maintain her composure. «It has been centuries since I have been alone in a room with another person,» she confessed. «I am no longer certain what one does.»

«You could start by telling me your name.»

He didn't smile. He didn't look at her as if the moon rose and set with her, as lifemates were reputed to do. He didn't even argue that she did belong to him as every cell in her body screamed at her was true.

Ivory moistened her lips. «I am Ivory Malinov, sister to the five raising an army and a rebellion of vampires. Sister to the ones in league with Xavier.» She took a deep breath. «And this is not my true form.»

«I am Razvan, grandson of Rhiannon and Xavier. I am a dealer of death and torture to any who dare come near me, especially those I care most for. I will never lay claim to you, so have no worries, Ivory. I will leave you as soon as I am able to do so.» He tilted his head to one side and studied her flawless body. «Do you fear showing me your true form?»

Her chin went up. «I do not fear much of anything, Dragonseeker, least of all you.»

«I can see that,» he said, faint sarcasm sliding into his tone. «Though, in truth, you should fear me. Not me: Xavier. He can find me wherever I am. You must believe me in this.»

«I believe you. I studied under Xavier, many years ago. Far longer than I care to remember. I know him well-too well.»

«You displeased him in some way.» Razvan made it a statement.

She found she could barely breathe in the close confines of the room with the Dragonseeker's hunger beating at her. Maybe it wasn't just his hunger. Maybe it was the way his eyes moved over her with a hint of possession, a male's intense look of interest. No one had looked at her that way since the prince's eldest son-and that hadn't turned out so well.

Her skin ached. Her bones. She'd forgotten that pain, or at least pushed it so far back in her memories that it was dull and faded. Now, looking at him looking at her, asking her questions, her body remembered the feel of sharp objects slicing through bone and tissue.

«Ivory,» he prompted, his voice gentle. «What did you do to displease him?»

She sank down along the wall, drew up her knees and clasped her arms around her legs, making herself much smaller. «I wanted to go to Xavier's school and learn from him. My brothers and five of their friends raised me. Ten strong warriors indulging my every whim. I learned how to fight, but was never allowed to use my knowledge. I could do things no other woman could do, yet was expected to sit home and wait for a lifemate to provide safety for me.» She shook her head, remembering the frustration of having an active brain desperate for knowledge, any kind, and running into a stone wall as her brothers refused to allow her any freedoms.

She rubbed her chin on her knees. «At that time, Vlad Dubrinsky was the prince.» She was giving him a very convoluted explanation, rambling on instead of making it short and succinct. She pressed her fingers to her eyes. «I think it has been so long since I have carried on a conversation with anyone but my pack that I have forgotten how.» She rubbed her palm up and down her thigh.

Razvan's gaze jumped to her hand and lingered there, recognizing the sign of nerves. She was wild, like her pack, uneasy with his presence, not because he represented danger, or because he was her lifemate, but simply because she was inherently wary of everyone.

«Be calm, Ivory,» he said softly, crooning as he would to tame a cornered wild animal. «I seek nothing from you. I do not believe that Xavier will hunt for my body this soon. He has grown weak and old without Carpathian blood to feed on. He will need to find his strength before he can strike at me. Lara escaped his prison first and then my aunts. So for the moment you are safe, but never turn your back on me. Consider killing me.»

She ignored his last statement. «How did you escape?»

«Xavier took my body out of the ice caves when his fortress was destroyed. He needs blood now to survive and be strong.» He looked down at his worn, torn body with a brief, humorless smile. «He had used my blood until little enough remained. I believe he had it in his mind to kill me, but when the aunts escaped, he needed my blood to keep him alive. He is determined to gain immortality. As you can see, there is little left of me, and he grew weak trying to build his new fortress.»

Ivory took a deep breath and let it out. He could see she struggled with herself before she made the offer.

«You need to feed.»

Her voice was low, trembling, and his heart turned over in his chest. It had been long since another had offered a kindness to him.

«I thank you for your offer, but I must regretfully decline. I have taken enough blood from those I should have protected and I will not take yours.»

She frowned at him. «I can feel your hunger.»

«I know. I cannot control the needs spilling into the close confines of this room. I am truly sorry for causing you distress.»

He didn't want her dwelling on the hunger crawling through his body, every cell crying out for sustenance. He could smell her blood, rich and hot and flowing in her veins, calling to him. He could barely think with his teeth already lengthened and his saliva in his mouth. Her heartbeat matched the irregular beat of his own, and that worried him.

He knew little of lifemates, and the last thing he had ever wanted to do was feel real emotion. It was bad enough to remember what it was like to love and feel remorse for the vile things he had done, even under another's compulsion, but she had brought it all into his mind and heart and made it real again. Where before he had been numb for hundreds of years, now every terrible, brutal act-the violation of women, feeding from his own children, stabbing his aunt, betrayal of every single person he loved and cared about-all of it was in front of him, filling him with self-loathing and disgust.

His soul was so black. The emotions poured into him with his memories. His beloved sister-he'd fought to save her, but in the end he'd betrayed her. His aunts-he'd tried so hard to save them, yet Xavier had controlled his body and he'd been the one to plunge a knife into his aunt's chest. He couldn't breathe, couldn't find air to drag into his lungs.

His throat felt raw and he choked, closing his eyes, trying to shut out the guilt and horror of his actions. It mattered little that he had not been in control-that in itself was a terrible guilt-or that he hadn't been strong enough to stop Xavier. Fighting him every inch of the way hadn't been enough, and now this stranger, this woman, brought every horrifying, vivid and disgusting detail into his mind and branded his soul unredeemable.

«Razvan.» Her voice was soft. Gentle. «Look at me.»

He couldn't move. Couldn't face her. No, not her-himself. He cursed his body's resistance to death. How could he ever face anyone after the terrible crimes he'd committed? Bile rose and he choked on it, a bitter, metallic taste. He wiped at his face and his palm came away smeared in blood.

He scented her, although she made no sound as she drew closer to him, as silent as her deadly wolves. He shook his head. «Stay back. Don't come too close.» Because hunger turned him savage, while guilt made him a little insane. Now it wasn't Xavier he feared; it was himself. He knew what even the best of his kind could do when starved, and he was so far from the best. He was damned-cursed, even-cunning and… so hungry. Ravenous.

Ivory crawled toward him. «You need to feed. I feed my pack often, it is truly of little importance. Just take the blood from my wrist.»

Between his fingers he could see her now, in front of him, concern on her face, although she was smart enough to be wary. She didn't trust him-it was there in her eyes. One fingernail lengthened, razor sharp, and she reached down toward her wrist.

Razvan caught her hand, the rush of fear and adrenaline combining to give him strength when he really had little left. «No! I will not.» The thought sickened him. Her offered wrist conjured up a vision of a greedy mouth tearing at a small wrist. He choked again and turned away from her.

How do you tell someone you are damned? He shook his head. «You have to take me to the surface and let me go.»

«Why won't you feed? Perhaps if you tell me . . .»

He didn't tell her. He showed her. She had to see-know-the monster she'd brought into her lair. He seized her mind, flowing into her, shoving the memories into her head, forcing her to watch him tear at a frightened child's little wrist while she pleaded with him, letting her see the mother of his child rotting while he screamed and fought and wept blood, raging at the monster who imprisoned him. He made her watch as he betrayed his twin sister, Natalya, and as he plunged the knife into the breast of a dragon desperately trying to help his daughter escape.

She paled, but she didn't pull away from his mind. He felt her move inside of him, alert, the way she was naturally, but soaking up his memories, reading his life. And he fed it to her, hundreds of years with Xavier, watching him torture and kill. Xavier had used his body over and over to commit horrendous acts, to breed with chosen psychic women, slowly taking him over, and then later, using him as a puppet to do his evil bidding. She should have recoiled, should have plunged her fist into his chest and extracted his heart there on the spot, but she stayed, looking at everything, unafraid, quiet, giving nothing of her own thoughts away.

After a while he became aware that he was weeping, deep inside, for those years of torment and regret, for the arrogance of a young man who thought he could single-handedly defeat an enemy who'd eluded warriors and minds far older and wiser than his. He realized he was lying with his head in her lap, her hand stroking his hair, the blood of his tears smearing her thighs.

«Do you see what I am?» he asked. It was a plea. He had spent the last twenty years planning to escape, planning to let the sun cleanse his soul, to take his chances in the afterlife. But here she was, the one woman who could stop him-and she refused to let him go. If he'd had the strength, he would have fought his way out, but he couldn't risk hurting her, and with his mind so shredded and his body so weak, he doubted he could reach the surface without a major battle between them.

«I see more than you think I see. You have forgotten, Razvan, that I had my own experiences with Xavier.» Her fingers stroked his hair and began to make small circles over his temples. «And you have revealed far more of Xavier and his spells than you know.»

He didn't like the speculation in her voice, but her hands worked magic, holding anguish at bay along with physical pain.

«You cannot best him. Believe me, I have tried over the centuries and I've always failed.» He should have pushed away from her, but found he could not. Her hands were inducing a magic all their own. How long had it been since someone had touched him with such gentleness?

«As did I,» she replied. «I knew Rhiannon and her lifemate. And when Xavier cast a holding spell over me and dragged me into the deep woods, he told me of his plan to kill her lifemate and force her to breed with him. He already had everything in place. Of course I knew the Carpathians would defeat him; we were too strong.»

She paused. Her voice had gone singsong, lower pitched, almost velvet. He felt the soft notes sliding inside of him, stroking at the painful memories, pushing them back ever so gently. Everything about Ivory seemed soft and smooth and so peaceful.

«No one defeats Xavier.»

She leaned close to him and whispered in his ear. «Because he has help. He always has help. Every memory you have shown me, a lesser mage first found the platform for the spell he cast. When he took me, and then later took Rhiannon's lifemate and murdered him, it was not Xavier who committed the actual murder-although I have heard he took the credit. It was Draven, Prince Vlad's eldest son. He betrayed our people to Xavier. He delivered Rhiannon's lifemate, dead, into Xavier's hands.»

Razvan tried to stir, but his limbs were heavy. He felt his mind drifting a little as she built up doors, then slowly and gently pushed them shut to trap the pain and guilt where it couldn't reach him. One by one, the memories of his defeat and his crimes were slowly blocked until his mind could accept, from a distance, the centuries of failure, of torture and of self-revulsion. Her voice was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard and he concentrated on it, on that soft, sweet melody that seemed to take him somewhere far away from the stark brutality of his existence.

«I remember Draven. He is a distant memory. A murderous, treacherous man who demanded young mage women from Xavier in return for his information. He disappeared one day and Xavier was furious, spewing vile curses on Gregori Daratrazanoff for weeks after. I assumed Gregori had finally found out his betrayal and administered justice.» He tried to open his eyes to look at her, but his eyelids were too heavy and he didn't want to disturb her soothing fingers. «Why would Draven kill Rhiannon's lifemate?» He choked a little over his grandmother's name. He had his father's memories of her, the soft-spoken woman Xavier had fed off of until his children were old enough to take her place.

«Draven was obsessed with me. I was not his true lifemate, but he wanted me. He had the sickness in him that some of our males get, and he believed, because he was in line to be prince, that he should have any woman he wanted. My brothers refused him when I told them I knew I was not his lifemate. When they were gone in battle, Prince Vlad sent me to Xavier's school, I think to keep me away from Draven.»

«So Draven bought you from Xavier with the body of Rhiannon's lifemate.» Razvan made it a statement.

His mind seemed at peace, drifting with the stroke of her fingers and the soft melody of her voice. It mattered little that the subject they discussed was abhorrent, his mind could process without fear or guilt or the overwhelming emotions that had poured into him at the sound of her voice. Now, his mind simply accepted and for the moment he was at peace. He didn't want that ever to end. He imagined this moment must be close to heaven, a haven where nothing bad could happen, even for just a brief interim.

«Yes, but Draven didn't count on the fact that I had ten strong warriors who had spent my lifetime teaching me to fight in battle. My five brothers and the De La Cruz brothers.» Ivory rubbed the strands of his hair between her fingers and then shifted him, just the slightest of movements, turning him so that his head was facing upward toward hers.

Razvan's eyelids fluttered. He opened his eyes to narrow slits and looked up at her. His breath caught in his throat and he stared at the woman above him. Her face was still that of an angel, skin so flawless and pure, but now he could see the scars-terrible scars that started on her throat and ran down her body as if she'd been pieced together by barbed wire.

«He did this to you?» He breathed out the words in shock, knowing Carpathians didn't scar-not as a rule-yet her body was covered with lines, the disfigurement a patchwork of skin sewn back together almost haphazardly.

«Draven did not like a woman defeating him, the mighty, soon-to-be prince, if his plans with Xavier succeeded. He could not resist bragging, telling me how he was going to kill his own father, because it never occurred to him that I could fight and defeat him in battle. He was so furious.»

Her voice sounded far away, a distant song of peace and warmth in spite of the chilling tale she told. He found, try as he might, that he couldn't experience the horror of her words, the extent of Draven Dubrinsky's betrayal of not only his people but his own father. Xavier was the devil himself, a monster unrivaled, and yet Draven had deliberately sought an alliance with him.

«I was caught by four vampires on my way back to my people,» Ivory continued, shifting him again, cradling his head to her.

Her body felt warm and soft and so giving against his. She smelled of the forest, of the wilds, deep and green and secret. There was a touch of snow, distant and compelling, an ice princess yielding to no one, yet giving of herself to him. It was fanciful. He'd long forgotten fanciful and his wayward thoughts didn't belong in the midst of her retelling such a traumatic event in her life. Everything seemed so dreamlike, yet he'd ceased to dream, knowing Xavier extracted information from his sister when he dreamt. He hadn't even been able to stop that and save Natalya such grief. He knew she'd been attacked by Xavier, but four vampires? Four?

He struggled to get up, to try to go to his sister's aid.

The singsong voice soothed him. «Not Natalya, Dragonseeker, the vampires attacked me. Xavier wanted the most horrendous death he could envision for one like me. He had them chop off my head and then cut me to pieces, scattering me across a field so the wolves could consume me. They should have incinerated my heart. I did not have the will to die, not when I needed to see Draven and Xavier gone from this earth.»

For a moment the horror and agony of what she had endured was in her mind-and his-and then, before he could possibly assimilate and process what she had given to him, it was gone, replaced once more by the soothing touch of her fingers stroking over his temples and her whispered, seductive voice.

You are so hungry, Dragonseeker. You have been starved for so long and kept without true strength. I am offering you life. Strength. A chance to join me in defeating the devil himself. You have only to take what is freely given. If, when you are at full strength, you choose to walk away, I will take you from here and you are free to go your own way.

The thought of separation from her gave him pain somewhere in his tattered soul. She was his lifemate; once found, he could not simply abandon her, yet he knew-frowning-that there was a reason he must not utter the words that would bind them together.

She rubbed gently at the frown lines between his eyes. Be at peace. You are safe here.

He shook his head, although it was difficult to do so. More than anything he wanted the touch of her magic fingers and the warmth of her body after he'd been cold for so many centuries. He'd existed in the ice caves with so little blood to live on, Xavier determined to keep him from strength, that he had all but forgotten warmth-or kindness. He didn't want to destroy the illusion that someone cared enough for him to render him aid without strings.

It wasn't true, of course; he'd learned that painful lesson over the centuries. No one could be trusted, least of all himself, but the illusion could sustain him when his starving body and his shredded mind could no longer function properly.

She leaned closer. Her breast grazed his face and his body tightened strangely in reaction. Hear the beat of my heart. Match your rhythm to mine.

He could hear her heart, steady, like an unfaltering beacon, a signal for him to find his way home.

Ivory looked over his ravaged face and her heart contracted painfully. She hadn't felt compassion for another in centuries. She'd been careful to avoid the traps and pitfalls of emotion. Her beloved brothers had betrayed her. Her own family. She would never forget how she sought them out, crawling out of the ground, her flesh barely intact, fighting every inch of the way back home, only to discover that centuries had passed and her brothers had joined the very ones who had chopped her into little pieces and left her for the starving wolves.

Hearing Razvan confess to the betrayal of his own sister and aunts, of his child, she had thought to aid him to find the dawn, even though it would mean condemning herself. But once inside his mind, she realized more than he did the centuries of struggle, of fighting to protect everyone around him from a monster. And he had held out in spite of torture and starvation and anything else she could ever conceive of.

In some ways it scared her to think what his will and determination would be when he was at full strength. Never once during the time Xavier held him captive had he been at full strength. He'd been a youth when Xavier had taken him, and even then, as a mere boy, he'd protected his sister. He didn't consider himself good with spells-his sister was a far better mage-but he was Carpathian male through and through, strong and protective and unflinching in his fight, no matter how weak he had grown.

Hear the blood rushing in my veins. It flows like the tide itself, like sap in the trees, nectar of life, flowing for you. Can you smell it? Do you feel your body crying out for life?

She drew a line across her breast, one of many lines, but this one welled bright red blood. Shifting him again, she pressed his mouth to her. There was a heartbeat. Two. Everything in her stilled. Veri olen elid-blood is life. Saasz han ku andam szabadon-take what I freely offer. She put every ounce of compulsion she had into her soft entreaty.

She felt him stir. His tongue licked over the raw wound and her womb clenched. Teeth sank deep, a biting, burning pain that gave way to a rush of heated pleasure.

She stroked back his hair and began to chant the Carpathian Lesser Healing Chant. Her voice rose, soft and melodious, filling the chamber with the rich gift of song.

Kunasz, nelkul sivdobbanas, nelkul fesztelen loyly-You lie as if asleep, without beat of heart, without airy breath.

Ot elidamet andam szabadon elidader-I offer freely my life for your life.

O jela sielam jorem ot ainamet es so?e ot elidadet-My spirit of light forgets my body and enters your body.

O jela sielam pukta kinn minden szelemeket belso-My spirit of light sends all the dark spirits within fleeing without.

Pajnak o susu hanyet es o nyelv nyalamet sielametsivadabat-I press the earth of our homeland and the spit of my tongue into your soulheart.

Vii, o verim so?e o verid andam-At last, I give you my blood for your blood.

Weary, Ivory closed her eyes. She dared not give him more blood than she was able. One healing session and one feeding was not going to be nearly enough. A week, a month… time mattered little, but she would heal him. For now, she'd done all that she could do.

Find peace, Dragonseeker.

Pressing her hand to his mouth, she whispered for him to stop before placing him in the deep, rich loam of her bed. Calling to her pack, she signaled them to take their places around her lifemate-claimed or not-and she pressed close to him before allowing the dark soil to engulf them, her protections around their bedchamber the strongest she knew.

The search for Razvan had been intense over the past three weeks. Ivory crouched below the snow-covered slope, raising herself just enough to study the forest beneath her. She couldn't see anything, but the wind had shifted enough on its own to bring her the scent of blood and death. Along with that scent came the soft sobbing of a child.

She had been careful to feed far from her lair, but then her travels had taken her closer to the Carpathian world where Mikhail Dubrinsky, the prince of the Carpathian people, and his legendary guard, Gregori, made their homes. There seemed to be far more Carpathians than the last time she'd been this close. That meant, when she hunted for food enough to feed her pack, she had to avoid not only vampires, Xavier and his servants, but the hunters as well.

She knew the vampires and Xavier searched for Razvan. They had visited the cabin where she'd fed from the human in the forest, but, thankfully, the human had been long gone. The stench of vampire remained in the cabin, and fortunately the vampires were unable to track her. They found the spot where Razvan had fallen. Footprints circled the area and the foul stench of vampire radiated from that central spot for days before they'd moved on.

She'd made certain neither she nor her pack set foot on the ground close to her lair after that. She'd even resorted to visiting the village to bring rich blood back to feed Razvan, barely rousing him, healing him each night and keeping his mind free of the damaging images and memories that haunted and tormented him. If, after he was at full strength and fully healed, he chose to meet the dawn, she vowed to herself that she wouldn't stop him a second time. But night after night, holding him in her arms and singing the healing chant, her blood flowing into him, she knew it would be difficult to let him go. She would though. She would set him free, with no guilt, because saving him had been her choice. Staying to help her defeat Xavier had to be his.

The child's cry drew her attention back to the forest below her. Why hadn't an adult answered that distress call? What kind of parents would leave a young one to the dangers of a snow-covered wood at night? Even the villagers crossed themselves, hung garlic and crosses in the windows and over doors, believing in the persistent rumors of the undead walking the night.

She sank back on her heels. She didn't do children. She hadn't even held a baby, not once in her entire life cycle. She couldn't remember interacting with children when she was younger-before-in the before. If a child saw her in her true form, especially a Carpathian child used to the perfection of form, the child might run from her.

She touched her neck. In this form, she never gave a vampire the satisfaction of seeing her scars. The vampires and Xavier had done their worst to her, but she remained flawless, untouched, unmarred by their barbarity. If nothing else, it gave her a psychological boost to know they were so shocked by her beautiful appearance.

The child's voice crescendoed and Ivory winced. She was going to have to at least check that the little thing wasn't injured, but that meant exposing herself when she was certain there were both vampires and hunters in the vicinity. She took a deep breath and shrugged, allowing her pack to merge with her skin in the form of tattoos. They would watch her back, and could draw more information from the wind than even she could. With six pairs of intelligent eyes and six noses gathering every detail around them, she felt more secure.

Let us get this done. And when we find the child, no scaring it. We will take it back to its mother and be done with this.

The pack didn't seem anymore enthusiastic than she was. She hadn't let them run free for some time, knowing the vampires often searched out the wolf packs, hoping to find evidence to track them back to her lair. Soon, she assured.

She dissolved into vapor and streaked over the snow, staying low to the ground, giving the wolves every opportunity to take in every scent.

Foul ones. Humans. Carpathians. Blood. The walking dead.

Ivory processed the information and directions as fast as the wolves fed it to her. Foul ones was the wolf name for vampires. But the walking dead were puppets-nonpsychic humans given vampire blood and promised immortality. The vampires often used them to attack during the day. They were nearly as foul as the vampires themselves.

She moved even faster, suddenly afraid for the child. For one moment, below her, she caught a glimpse of a man running through the snow, and then he disappeared in the trees. The child's father? If so, he was arriving a little late.

She spotted a little boy, thin, with a mop of dark hair reaching his shoulders, struggling against the type of snares that had trapped the wild wolves. Her heart dropped. Another trap. She wasn't fool enough to believe that the boy had walked into the mass of snares himself. He'd been forcibly taken from somewhere-she knew by the smell of death and blood-and staked out like a sacrificial goat, the thin wires cutting into his hands and ankles. There was one around his neck. He was crying, but he stood stoically, refusing to fight and worsen the already deep cuts.

She didn't believe this boy had been set out as bait for her-more likely for Razvan. He had a child and he had given his soul, or at least a piece of it, to save her. Xavier would know he would risk everything to save a child. She was in for a fight, but she couldn't leave that child. The vampires were expecting a starving, sick, tortured Razvan, not the slayer, scourge of all undead.

She formed close to the boy, noting that he didn't wince or scream out in fright, which meant he'd seen a Carpathian before and they had allowed him to retain his memories. «It's a trap,» he mouthed. He stared at the wolf tattoos with their bared teeth and lifelike eyes covering her shoulders and arms as she bent to gently set her crossbow in the snow and withdraw a pair of cutters.

She nodded her understanding. «Keep crying,» she hissed as she snipped his left wrist free. It was brave of him to try to warn her when he must have been terrified.

The boy didn't miss a beat, keeping up a lively rendition of wailing while she cut loose the wire on his neck and carefully removed it. Her fingertips brushed the thin necklace of blood circling his neck. Her fingers crept up to her own neck, fluttered there for one moment as she remembered the bite of the sharp blade.

The boy couldn't be more than eight or nine, with his thin face and large, intelligent eyes. He was watching her carefully, studying her closely as she reached across him to snip at his other hand.

Behind you.

The alpha gave her the warning and she felt the large wolf shift in preparation for the attack. Raja's head lay across her neck, his eyes looking straight back. Ever so slightly he turned his head and the movement made the boy gasp. Ivory thrust the cutters into his hands and held out her arms away from her body, bending her knees until she was in a crouch, her right arm slowly dropping to reach for her crossbow.

The child's eyes widened in alarm and fear as he looked over her shoulder and saw the large man coming up behind her with an axe gripped in his hands. The woodsman's face had a blank look and he shuffled, his eyes a strange red. He lifted the axe above Ivory's head, still several feet out. The boy opened his mouth to call a warning, but no sound emerged.

Ivory felt the slight wrench of pain that always accompanied her pack separating themselves from her as the savage wolves leapt, completely silent as they made their concentrated attack, the communication in their minds only. Her fingers closed over the crossbow and she grasped it, winking at the boy to reassure him as she dove away from him, somersaulted and came up on one knee, her crossbow aimed at the attacker. The boy stared openmouthed at the six silver-tipped wolves, more shocked at the sight of them than the soulless attacker.

The wolves drove the ghoul backward, teeth clamped around each arm, the alpha going for the throat while the other wolves grasped legs and held him. Vampire puppets were extremely strong, programmed by their masters for one task; very few things could stop them once they were set on a path. The wolves tearing at him did little other than keep him on the ground beneath the writhing mass of silver fur.

Ivory felt the surge of power crackling in the air and rolled closer to the boy. «Hurry up. We are about to have some very unpleasant company.» She kept her body between the child and the snarling, writhing ghoul and whatever else was coming at them.

A man broke from the trees, sprinting fast. «Travis! Trav! Are you all right?» He skidded to a halt, taking in the ghoul, the wolves and the woman aiming the very lethal-looking crossbow right at his heart.

«Gary! That's Gary,» the boy yelled, his voice bursting with relief.

«Stay away from the wolves,» Ivory cautioned. Her gut tightened. Now she had two humans to protect. Neither seemed shocked at the ghoul, nor at her appearance, as if a female hunter, a pack of wolves and a mindless assassin were everyday occurrences. She knew little about Carpathian politics, and didn't want to know more. She was a slayer. And a vampire was close.

One of the wolves yelped, and out of the corner of her eye she caught movement as the ghoul flung one of the smaller females. The body dropped almost at the feet of the man called Gary. He leapt back, eyeing her warily.

«You have a vampire coming down on top of you,» Ivory pointed out. «Move or die.»

Above his head, in the whirling mist of snowflakes and fog, she could see the outline of the grisly form of a vampire. Power radiated from him, and her heartbeat ratcheted up a notch. This was no lesser vampire; she'd fought enough of them to know.

Gary dove toward the boy, landing belly down, crawling the rest of the way. Travis sank down in the snow in an attempt to cut the wires from his ankles.

The vampire struck at her wolves, raising his hand to call down the lightning, thrusting the white-hot bolt at her pack, uncaring that the monster he'd created might be in the path of destruction. She slammed the bolt with a second one, driving the sizzling, crackling energy away from the writhing bodies. A tree exploded just beyond the wolves, the splinters and debris raining down on the ghoul and the pack. Her pack leapt back, circling the puppet, paying no attention to the vampire, leaving him to Ivory.

Gary rolled to finish extracting the boy, shielding the small body with his own as Ivory fired one of her small arrows into the vampire's chest. It hit him just below his heart, and he turned his head, deigning to acknowledge her for the first time.

Ivory's breath caught in her throat. A small sound escaped. Stunned, she could barely stammer, nothing coherent emerging from her.

Gary looked at her sharply, and then up at the vampire as the creature slowly lowered himself to the ground. The caricature of a man had probably been handsome at one time. He was well built, with wide shoulders and long hair that once had been thick and full, but now the vampire obviously didn't bother to hide his evil appearance. His skin was pulled tight on his skull and his teeth were sharp and pointed. He not only looked strong, but the power radiating from him hung in the air. The glowing eyes were locked on the female hunter, but he looked nearly as shocked as she did.

«Sergey,» Ivory whispered.

The vampire winced visibly at the sound of her sweet, pure voice. He stood a long moment in silence, his looks subtly changing. In the blink of an eye his teeth were not long, pointed and stained, but white and straight. The face was fuller and the eyes had gone dark. The ghoul moved and the vampire merely flicked a hand toward him to freeze him where he was. Even the wolves didn't move; they were statues, staring at the woman and the vampire as they faced one another.

«Ivory?» The voice grated. He cleared his throat. «Ivory?» he repeated and this time the tone was beautiful. Gentle. Affectionate. His hands came up to cup the shaft of the arrow where black blood dripped down his chest. «You are alive.»

Her hands trembled and she took a breath. One. Just held it and then released the air in a long gasp as if she was fighting to breathe. Her gaze dropped to the arrow in his body, the blood slowly dripping down his shirt and welling around the entry wound.

«Yes,» she whispered. «I am alive and my soul is intact. How is it that you, my beloved brother, would join the ranks of the evil ones who would destroy your sister? Answer this for me.» Each word was squeezed painfully from her heart, constricting her throat, threatening to strangle her with raw grief and the terrible sense of betrayal.

Ivory's throat was clogged with tears. She doubted she could say another word without bursting into sobs. She refused to look away from the vampire, not even for a moment, although it was much more difficult to think of him as an enemy when his form was so dear and familiar. She longed to fling herself into the comfort of his arms and rest her head against his shoulder, crying for her lost past.

She sought the path she might best use to warn the human. Take the boy and slip away. Get far from this place. I am not certain I can defeat this one in battle.

Sergey. He'd been a genius fighter. Few compared. Now he had centuries of battles with some of the best Carpathian hunters, not to mention the vampires that he'd defeated to add to his experience. She tried not to see the sly, cunning intelligence slipping into the depths of his eyes. She didn't want to believe her first vision of him. She had avoided her brothers once she'd confirmed the whispered rumors.

Gary caught Travis by his upper arm and began to slowly ease him back into the woods. The vampire's head turned slowly toward them, and for a moment that soft, dark color was ringed in red and glowed at them like a feral animal.

«Do not look at them, Sergey,» Ivory snapped. «Or should I call you han ku vie elidet-vampire, thief of life.»

His gaze flicked back to her and he looked sad. «You are my beloved sister . . .»

«Do not call me beloved when you betrayed me. You are in league with those who would have stolen my life.»

«They have been brought to justice.»

«Have they?» She stood, tall and straight, the moon gleaming off her blue-black hair. «You cannot lie to me, Sergey. Others perhaps might believe you, but I have hunted the vampire for many centuries now and I know the ones who took me to the meadow of our father and chopped my body into pieces and left them for the wolves. I know they live, so do not tell your pretty lies to me.»

«Did they really do that to her, Gary?» The boy sounded fearful with his loud whisper.

She caught a glimpse of the man holding the boy closer, trying to soothe him. Each time they moved, the ghoul stepped with them in a macabre dance of death. Every time the ghoul shifted, the wolves circled and darted toward him, teeth bared.

«Leave us, Sergey,» Ivory said, «and take your kuly with you.»

«What is kuly?» Travis asked.

She turned her head toward the boy, but she kept her gaze on the vampire. «It is a worm that lives in the intestines, a demon who possesses and devours souls. So really, that is what Sergey is, as he possesses that worm's soul.» With her chin she indicated the ghoul.

«I need a weapon,» Gary hissed at her.

Ivory sighed. What man would run into the forest chasing a ghoul who had taken a child without a weapon? At least neither was hysterical, and that was a plus when she needed every ounce of concentration she could have. In any case, there was no use whispering; any vampire, let alone a master vampire, had excellent hearing.

«You have forgotten your manners, Ivory,» Sergey reprimanded, looking more sorrowful than ever. He dragged the arrow from his body, watched it disintegrate in his palm and dropped the metal scraps in the snow. «Your arrow nearly pierced my heart.»

Ivory marked where the pieces fell. «If you still had a heart, those who desecrated my body would have been brought to justice. Instead, you torture a child with your pathetic puppet. Take your servant and go, Sergey. You do not want to fight me.»

He laughed, a soaring wicked sound that seemed to fill the skies around them. The trees shivered, shaking the snow from their branches so that ice crystals were flung into the air. The vampire lifted his head and coughed hard. As the icy flakes hardened and changed form, raining down, Ivory threw out her hand and the snow turned to vapor, a great gust of wind blowing it back into Sergey's face.

He coughed again and gagged, choking, holding one hand to his mouth. Behind his palm she could make out a small trickle of blood, then crimson drops stained the snow below him. He coughed and more blood spilled. Above his hand, his eyes glowed bright red and she heard the child give a strangled, frightened cry.

Keep his face against your chest, she ordered Gary. He put his parasites in the snow and they can be lethal. You cannot allow the boy to breathe them in.

Sergey spit into the snow, staining the pristine white powder with tiny wiggling wormlike creatures. «I am losing patience, Ivory. You must join with me now.»

She felt her body respond to the sweet compulsion in his voice. Her fingers closed tighter on the crossbow. «Do you believe I am still that young girl you last saw? I do not respond to compulsion.»

He opened his arms. «Come to me, sister. You belong here, with us. We fight against the prince-for you. But for the cowardice of his father, but for the sickness in his lineage, none of what happened to you would have. He sent you away, knowing there was danger to you, against the wishes of your brothers. Would you fight for his son? Would you join with the brother of the man who set in motion a war?»

Was he maneuvering closer? She couldn't tell. His body swayed when he talked and she couldn't tell if he was using that to inch forward, not with the snow swirling around her head. Each time the ghoul moved, the wolves reacted, but their attention was centered on the puppet, leaving the master to her. Her vision seemed a little hazy. Or maybe it was her mind. When he talked, his voice conjured up images she kept buried deep in order to keep her sanity. She could distance herself and remember that moment when all was lost and Draven had handed her over to the vampires with a smirk on his face. He'd caught her face in his hands and kissed her. She'd had the satisfaction of biting him hard, nearly tearing off his lip. He'd punched her hard enough to make her lose focus, just as she seemed to be doing now.

Sister! Raja snapped at her.

Sister! Sister! The rest of the pack took up the cry.

Ayame lifted her face to the sky and howled, the sound piercing through Ivory's brain. She blinked. The blood spots in the snow were no longer there, or if they were, she couldn't see them because the undead had glided forward just those scant few inches. She could feel the crossbow in her hand, still loosely pointed at her brother. Her hands trembled. She'd battled a master vampire once or twice in the intervening years, and she'd barely escaped with her life.

She knew Sergey had been considered one of the Carpathian's greatest hunters long before he'd ever turned.

«Back off,» she ordered. «You do not want to do this.»

«My patience grows thin.» Sergey snapped his fingers. «This child is the beginning. We will have the others soon and they will either join us or die. Once hope is gone, we will have little trouble picking off the Carpathians. You belong with us in this. Come here to your brother and feed. I offer you everything.»

She noticed he could barely sustain his pleasant tone, one more indication of how far gone he was. Too many years as a vampire had left his memories of better days tattered. The slow rot had claimed even the recollection of what love had been, what family meant. She had run out of time, hoping that by stalling him the Carpathian hunters would feel the dark power so close to their realm. And if the boy was really part of the Carpathian world, where were his keepers?

«My heart and body died a long time ago, Sergey, and now you so graciously offer me the death of my soul. I choose to remain true to the teachings of my brothers.»

«We were wrong to follow the prince. He was unworthy. He allowed his son to destroy all that we held dear.» He stretched his hand to her again, beckoning with his fingers. «Maxim dwells in the land of the shadows. As does Kirja, both slain by villainous Carpathian hunters, betrayers of their own people. Ruslan and Vadim need to see their beloved sisar-sister.»

Her heart contracted. The pull of the past was strong. She fought the memories, the compulsion, shaking her head to ward off the lure. She didn't change position as she looked guilelessly up at her beloved brother. Her finger squeezed the trigger on her crossbow, releasing the arrow. She tossed the bow to the human male and rushed Sergey, snapping the coated arrowheads hard in a straight line up his chest.

It was an act of desperation to attack a master vampire, but she couldn't wait for his strike. Go! Take the boy and run. My pack will hold off the ghoul to give you a chance. She hoped Gary understood that his chance was slim and he shouldn't waste it. His first priority had to be the life of the child-especially when Sergey admitted they planned to turn or kill the boy.

She didn't look to see if Gary obeyed; her entire being concentrated on Sergey. The arrowheads would keep him from shifting, but then, it didn't look as if he had any intention of shifting. He waited for her with that small half-smirk on his face.

The ghoul jerked up and lumbered forward. The wolves sprang and he tried to smash their bodies together as they tore at his dead flesh.

Gary picked up Travis like a football, tucking the boy under one arm while he grasped the crossbow in the other and raced back into the shelter of the trees, weaving his way through the brush to present a more difficult target.

Lightning slammed from sky to earth, strike after strike as the vampire sought to stop him, slowing the man, forcing him to fall several times in the snow. All the while, Sergey stood his ground, his glowing eyes burning, pitiless holes, glaring at Ivory as she rushed him, sword drawn.

At the last moment, before that tip of a sword could sink into his flesh, he moved so fast he blurred, raking across her face with poison-tipped claws, creating gouges in her skin. She traveled beyond him, somersaulting into the soothing icy powder, coming up on one knee behind him and hurling a much more lethal star toward the back of his neck. It caught him as he spun to face her, a lucky break, the spinning points slicing through the side of his neck, cutting through the jugular.

Black blood sprayed across the snow and all pretenses of civility and sibling affection was gone in an instant. Sergey threw back his head and howled, the sound excruciating, an energy wave that blasted everything in its path, knocking her back and setting the wolves whimpering.

Ivory landed flat on her back, the air rushing from her lungs, leaving her gasping. Automatically she rolled several times, saving her life. Jagged bolts of lightning hit the ground where she'd been and followed her across the snow, leaving great gaping holes where each white-hot strike landed.

She came to her feet a short distance away, blurring her body and sending replicas of her form at him from every direction, rushing in, slamming the sword deep into his chest. Before she could twist the hilt or withdraw, he sank his teeth into her shoulder, clamping his mouth down around the thin bone and grinding. She screamed as pain burst through her, radiating outward, her flesh burning away from the acid blood pouring over her.

«Mmm, sisar-sister, you taste delicious,» he whispered, a contemptuous smirk in his voice. «I have not tasted Carpathian blood in a long while. Perhaps I will keep you to myself instead of sharing your delightful taste with my brothers.»

Ivory clawed at his face, trying to gain enough leverage to get him off her. She dared not take the wolves off the ghoul, afraid the child wouldn't get away. Her knee came up into Sergey's crotch, the heel of her boot raking down his leg to smash into the side of his knee. His bite deepened, tore at her flesh as if he were trying to consume her.

She fought to stay conscious through the pain, drawing both hands back and smashing her fists to either side of his jaw, driving through bone. His mouth blew open in a screaming gasp and he lifted his head.

Gary fired the crossbow, hitting the vampire in his right eye.

The boy? Ivory gasped as she dropped to the ground, blood pumping from her mangled shoulder. She dissolved as Sergey reached for her, his claws going through vapor. Droplets of blood followed her across the snow as she streaked away from Sergey.

Gary backpedaled when the vampire snarled and turned to look at him with one glowing eye. «I sent him back to the village. I couldn't leave you behind.»

«You will wish you were never born,» Sergey promised him and reached up to yank the arrow from his eye. Black blood poured down his face. The vampire didn't bother to wipe it away; instead he bared his savage teeth at the human.

Ivory materialized over the ghoul, slicing through his neck with one hard stroke, sending the head bouncing obscenely across the slope. The wolves pinned the thrashing body to the ground, holding him there while she gathered energy from the sky.

Move! Already she hurled the bolt toward the soulless creature, striking just as the wolves leapt back, in a move they'd perfected countless times.

Orange-red flames erupted, turned black, a foul stench filling the air as the carcass burned. Ivory kicked the head into the flames and faced the vampire over the rising fetid smoke. Her sides heaved for air; her body was covered in her blood-and his. Trails of blackened flesh streaked her shoulder and went down her arm, but she faced him stoically, with one eyebrow raised.

«You look a little worse for wear there, brother,» she commented. «You must be getting old and feeble to allow a human to creep up on you like that.»

As she spoke she circled around to try to put her body between Sergey and the human male. The man had risked his life for her and he was still standing there, waiting for another shot, when he had to know that her crossbow wasn't going to take down a master vampire. She'd rarely had dealings with humans, but she had to admire his courageous stand, even though she feared for his life.

«One of mine for one of yours, little sister,» Sergey hissed, his body suddenly moving with blurred speed.

Even with her specially coated metal in him, she could barely follow his path, the master vampire moved so quickly. She saw him grasp little Farkas and slam the wolf 's body over his knee. There was an audible crack and the animal screamed. Cackling, Sergey threw the wolf away from him so that the body hit a snowcapped boulder where the animal lay broken and panting in pain.

The metal arrowheads fell to the ground in pieces, and already the vampire's body was regenerating, while her own grew weaker from blood loss. She dared not close off the wound and trap parasites in her where they could take hold. For a moment she just faced her brother, trying to decide the best way to get luck on her side-it was the only possible chance she had of defeating the vampire.

The air around them charged with electricity, making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She felt the compression in her lungs and thought it was the undead attacking, but he stepped back, giving a wary glance right and left and then upward toward the sky.

«Another time, Ivory.» Sergey raised his hands and the ground erupted into violent upheavals, sending both Gary and Ivory pitching forward. Gary went down headfirst and Ivory leapt to try to cover him against whatever form Sergey's latest aggression would take. Snow burst into the air in a spinning cyclone so that everything went white. She felt the impact of his blow on her left side, slamming her down and over the male. The blow might have killed a human; as it was she felt bones crack under the force.

Ivory rolled and rocked forward, allowing the momentum to take her to her feet in a half-crouch, ignoring the waves of pain coursing through her body. She turned in a circle. Sergey was gone. There was silence, broken only by heavy, ragged breathing. Ivory sagged, the strength leaving her body in a rush.

On hands and knees she crawled to Farkas as the other wolves circled around them. Ivory gathered the wolf into her arms, judging how much time she had to heal him. She was definitely weak and needed blood.

Gary pushed himself to his feet. «Are you all right?»

«Yes. Thank you.» It came out stiffer than she intended. «How did the ghoul get that child? Why was he not kept safe?» She cast him a swift look of reprimand, her hand stroking gently along the back of her wolf, finding the breaks along the spine.

«He is the adopted child of Sara and Falcon and, although psychic, is human. During the day the children attend school and participate in the regular activities other children in the village have. Falcon and Sara have guardians in place. I was with several of them in the schoolhouse, but Travis had gone to attend a function with a woman who helps us out. We had no idea there was a threat in the area.»

Ivory sighed. «Master vampires have learned to hide their presence from hunters. Some of the lesser vampires have slowly been acquiring the skill as well. Your hunters should know that and take better precautions.»

Above them, thunder boomed and an answering crash blasted across the sky as if two powerful forces met and clashed in the heavens above them.

Sergey had sent another blast toward them, hoping to score a hit from a distance, but an unseen hand had sheltered them. The energy was much closer, and she knew she didn't have much time. She had to leave before the Carpathian hunters arrived.

Another burst of energy swept through the area, rocking the earth and making the trees tremble. Several rocks dislodged and rolled, drawing Ivory's attention to the pieces of metal strewn through the snow. She raised her palm, calling them back to her, careful that each piece was found and placed in a small pouch on her belt.

Gary frowned. «What are those?»

«Weapons.» She shrugged her shoulders, not wanting to draw attention to her secret. «I have to take care of my wolf. You can leave the crossbow here and go with my thanks.»

«I think I'll wait until I'm certain you're all right.»

Ivory gave a dismissing grunt, closed her eyes and laid her hands over the wolf 's broken bones, drawing as much energy as she dared to heal Farkas enough so that he could at least travel. Light burst from beneath her palms and radiated heat along the animal's spine.

«Would you give him blood?» Ivory looked up at the man standing above her.

«What?»

«I am not asking for myself. He needs blood to heal. He will not harm you, I guarantee you.» She kept her gaze locked with his. «I would not force you. It is solely your choice.»

Gary crouched down beside the woman, aware of the five large wolves pressing close to him. None of them acted threatening, but they were big brutes and fierce looking. Some had burns in their fur and around their muzzles from the acid blood where they'd taken the ghoul down. Up close he could see numerous old scars from other battles. He laid the crossbow next to her hand and nodded, rolling up his sleeve.

Ivory handed him a knife. Gary took it and without hesitation cut across his skin and pressed his wrist to the wolf 's muzzle. The wolf licked at the blood while Ivory murmured a soft healing chant. «Enough,» she said, only minutes later. «That will get us traveling. I am in your debt.»

«Let me give you blood,» Gary offered. «If you wait, the others will be here soon and they can heal your wounds.»

«We are here,» said a voice behind them.

Ivory gasped and spun around, taking up her crossbow and aiming the arrow at the heart of the newcomer. She hadn't heard him approach, nor had the wolves. One moment there was no one and the next he stood there, tall and powerful with slashing silver eyes. He kept his gaze on her, and she had the feeling he took in everything-her wolves, Gary, the battle scene and every wound.

«Are you all right, Gary?»

«She saved our lives, Gregori,» Gary explained.

Ivory had known exactly who this man was the moment she'd laid eyes on him. She'd known his elder brothers, Lucian and Gabriel, but Gregori was a legend in his own right-and she wanted no part of him. She stood slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves, keeping the arrow trained on him. She signaled to the wolves and they all moved behind her.

«We are in your debt, lady,» Gregori said, inclining his head. «I am a healer. Perhaps I could aid you in return for the great service you rendered.»

She knew he was deliberately formal in his speech, recognizing her as an ancient, but she refused to allow him to lull her into a false sense of security. She didn't trust him any more than she had Sergey. Behind him another man materialized and she heard herself gasp. For one horrible instant she was certain Draven was alive and had come for her again. It took her a moment to realize this had to be Mikhail Dubrinsky, Draven's younger brother, the reigning prince of the Carpathian people.

She took a step back, the arrow switching immediately to cover the intruder's heart. Gregori stepped deliberately in front of the prince, holding his hand palm outward toward her. «No one wants to hurt you. We are in your debt.»

Behind him, the prince gently guided Gregori to one side. «I am Mikhail Dubrinsky and we are in your debt.»

«I know who you are.» She couldn't keep the bitterness from her voice. «I gave my aid freely to the child, and this man has more than repaid any debt owed to me.» Farkas, on your feet now.

The wolf rose obediently and stumbled, nearly falling again. She cursed, knowing he was too weak to cross the distance on his own. She couldn't go back to her lair, not wounded and bleeding. She'd leave a blood trail in the sky. It wouldn't be visible, but the droplets could be scented and anyone who wished to could find her.

Gregori took a step closer and her other hand went to her holster. Ivory shook her head. «I do not wish to do battle with you, but if you insist, I will do so.»

«I wish only to aid you.»

«Do so by giving me free passage through your land. I will take my pack and go.»

«You are a Carpathian woman without a lifemate and in need of our protection,» Gregori said, his voice soft and compelling.

«I am an ancient warrior with a lifemate and I fight my own battles. I have no allegiance to your people and none to your prince. Know this, dark one-I will fight to the death to retain my freedom. I wish only to be left alone.» She took another step back.

«If you leave without aid, you will be vulnerable to any attack,» Gregori answered, his voice more gentle than ever. «As a Carpathian warrior, a male, the healer of our people, I cannot allow you to go without first seeing to your care.»

Her sword swung up, her dark eyes catching fire even as despair swept through her. «Then know it will be a fight to the death. I want no help from you or from any of your people.»

Her wolves spread out, even Farkas, facing the Carpathian males-enemies now-circling the men with teeth bared.

Razvan came aware slowly. At first he thought he was dreaming, but dreams such as lying in soil had long ago disappeared from his imagination. He was certain though, absolutely certain, he could feel loam, rich in minerals, surrounding him like a warm comforting blanket, the earth cradling him, his body warm, hunger a distant memory. And that made no sense.

His eyes snapped open, power consuming him, shaking him, more than he'd ever imagined, more than he'd ever conceived of or dreamt. It ran through his body like a rising tidal wave, rushing through veins, pumping through his heart, exploding through organs and sinew until he was filled with power. Light radiated from his body as he burst through the layers of soil to the surface. Dirt geysered up, hitting the high rock ceiling above his head and spraying across the room.

He landed in a crouch, senses flaring out, scanning, his mind racing, trying to fit all the pieces of the puzzle together. He had escaped at last. His mind almost couldn't grasp the truth of it. He remembered running through the snow, shivering, his strength so far gone he couldn't control his body temperature, but he forced himself to keep going until he didn't have a single ounce of strength left. He had to get far enough away that Xavier and his servants wouldn't find him before the sun rose. The sun. Every Carpathian's last resort was to cleanse their soul with the bright white light. Even that had been denied him.

Xavier had been careless. Fear had been his downfall. Fear that if he fed Razvan too much, he would lose control of him, so the mage had forced his grandson to go for weeks without blood. Yet Xavier took from him daily-until finally Razvan was too weak and sick to stand, or to supply the greedy mage with the life-giving Carpathian fluid.

He remembered that empty, weak feeling, the near insanity of hunger, his body crying out, his teeth sharp and needy every moment that he was awake. Chained, he couldn't hunt for his own food. There were not even animals near to call to him. Every cell, every organ cried out, until his brain was nothing but a red haze of need. Now he felt only mildly hungry, not the constant gnawing hunger that had ruled his life for so many centuries.

He looked around him, realizing he was still deep beneath the earth, but it was warm. Somehow, glittering moonlight streamed in from above, yet he was deep beneath the earth in a rock cavern. He heard the sound of water but little else. He waved his hands, and candles sprang to life all over the room, instantly transforming it into a feminine sanctuary. The layers of rock above them were intricately carved with beautiful pictures, sweeping landscapes and trees and shrubbery, as if the outside world had been brought inside one small piece at a time, until the walls were a thing of beauty.

Feminine-the woman-the reason he was seeing in blazing color. The light and the color dazzled his eyes, burned after so long of seeing in gray and black and white. He remembered the soothing touch of her hands; her voice, soft and compelling; the way her blood tasted, addictive and hot as though made specifically for him. She had saved him when he'd told her not to do so. She'd worked a compulsion on him in spite of all his warnings, and now . . .

He felt. Everything. All of it. The guilt and the rage and the sense of absolute loneliness. He had no idea how to behave in civilized society. He had no knowledge of much other than deceit and torture, and now here he was, completely unprepared to be alive and well for the first time that he could remember in his centuries of existence.

Razvan stretched, feeling the play of muscle beneath his skin. His body felt so different, warm, alive, steel running beneath skin, so much power he trembled with it, uncertain how anyone could wield such strength without harming everything around him. He drew in a shaky breath and looked around again.

The woman-his lifemate-must have taken hundreds of years to carve out her home. It was unusual, but it appealed to him. There was something safe and comforting about it. He was upset with her for saving him. He couldn't stay to reprimand her or be tempted by her, of course, but at least he now had a fighting chance when he went after Xavier, and he knew he would. He couldn't allow the mage to continue spreading his evil through the world. He had to stop him, and now he might have the ability.

Razvan knelt to examine the large basin of soil. The depression was made of sheer rock. Impenetrable rock. The circular hollow that was her bed had been carved out, deep and wide, and then filled with the richest, purest, most heavily mineraled soil he'd ever seen. Unable to resist, he sank his hands into the black loam, feeling the soothing, rejuvenating properties.

Where had it come from? He sank back on his heels and studied the wide, deep hole. This soil had been brought here, one small bit at a time, yet now it was so many feet deep, he almost hadn't realized there was a bed of rock beneath it.

Who had the kind of patience it would take to first carve out a large chamber in a rock bed and then fill the basin with soil? It must have taken hundreds of years, yet she had conceived the idea and then painstakingly done it. He stood in one fluid motion, shocked at the way his body responded to the strength running through it, but he was more interested in the woman and what she had wrought than in how his body worked.

There was something extraordinary about the room, and not just the sheer work it had taken. The feel of it intrigued him. He placed his hands palm out toward the walls. Power crackled. Warmth and peace filled him. He frowned and dropped his hands, turning his head to study the rich carvings. Each wall, about thirty feet high in the shape of an oval, was carved with intricate drawings. A forest took up one wall, each needle and limb and gnarled trunk in rich detail. He moved closer. A second wall held a waterfall spilling into a pool of water, a pack of silver-tipped wolves, six of them, was etched in various positions in and around the forest and pool. He noted the shrubbery and flowers and the round moon and stars. Along the bottom of the wall, near the chamber basin where she rested, she had carved a single phrase.

Kuc3ak es kune jelaam es andsz entolam sielerauhoet, andsz entolam pesadet es andsz entolam kontsiverauhoet: May the stars and moon be my guiding light and grant serenity of the soul, protection from all harm and a warrior's heart-peace.

It was more than a work of art. Embedded into each letter, every loop and whorl, the vines running in and out of each word, was the feeling of tranquility. When he ran his hands over the sentence, an inch away from the wall, he could feel vibrations and knew that woven into those words, into the very rock itself, were powerful safeguards.

Razvan laid his hands on the rock wall. Again the wall hummed with life. The walls were solid rock, impenetrable like her basin of soil. But more than that, each wall held safeguards, potent ones. He recognized the beginnings as mage, but they were so different it would be nearly impossible to unravel them. Nothing was going to get through those walls. No one would ever find her, and she was perfectly safe.

He groaned aloud. She had brought him to her sanctuary. He was probably the first person to ever see her home, and with him, he brought an enemy beyond all others. Xavier could possess his body, and now that it was strong and fit and filled with power, the evil mage would want Razvan's body for his own more than ever.

Razvan touched her violin, and felt the joy and artistry of her music. Her emotions were everywhere, buried in the art she created in the warmth and sanctuary of her home. He went up smooth, polished rock steps and through the narrow opening into the largest room. This was obviously her living quarters, where she spent the most time. The cavern walls had been etched out one inch at a time until she had created a round tower, rising up a good forty feet. Although relatively small, the chamber appeared spacious in its simplicity.

There were a couple of chairs and a thick rug of wool with a bit of wolf hair clinging to it here and there, giving evidence that her pack often lay in this room. He found a book of poetry and another on samurai battles and strategy and code of honor. Both were old and lay on the small carved table by a chair. He picked up the samurai book, told in an ancient language, and thumbed through it, noting the small writing in the margin and the underlining of phrases on every page. The book was worn, and obviously read often.

As in the bedchamber, the walls were covered in drawings, each stroke carved into the wall, which must have taken years to complete. The craftsmanship told him something about her. She was patient. She was meticulous. And a perfectionist. She was an artisan whether she knew it or not. The faces of ten young men stared out at him. Each face held an expression of love. When he lifted his hand and ran his fingertips over the smooth etchings, he felt the love. Her love. Their love for her. Anguish and sorrow at her loss of them. This, then, was her monument to her lost family.

Razvan had known love. His father and mother. His sister, Natalya. He carried those memories long after his emotions had faded-and it had taken a long time, even when he embraced that darkness in him, reached for it, desperate to be numb so he couldn't feel loss and guilt and an overwhelming sense of failure and despair. The blood in him ran strong whether he wanted it or not. When he touched those faces, the love there, the sorrow, nearly drove him to his knees. Every single stroke of the implement used to forge those beloved lines from memory was done with tears running down her face and absolute love in her heart.

As the pads of his fingers traced over the hair and foreheads, down to the eyes, noses and mouths, he felt the difference in her. At first those hands had been innocent of knowledge of the fate of her brothers. Little by little, the knowledge had been gained over centuries, until she knew of the betrayal of her five older brothers. His hands stilled and he drew in his breath sharply. Vampires. Betrayers. Master vampires banding together and plotting the downfall of the Carpathian people with… His heart sank. Her enemy. Her worst enemy. Xavier.

It was all there in the stone. Every detail, every emotion, the blood and the tears and every ounce of love and forgiveness she had in her. She resolved never to see them as they were now, only to remember them with love in her heart where she could touch their faces here on this memorial and remember nothing but love from them.

He wanted to weep for her, for her lost family. He couldn't imagine what strength it must have taken for her to go on, so alone, so lost, the pain of her loss nearly intolerable, the strength of her love enduring. The other five faces were family-yet not blood. He felt her deep love for them, the caring, but fear was woven in there. She dreaded knowing their fate, and so he had stopped looking, afraid that they had taken the path of her brothers. The love shone through along with her dread of the truth.

Below the faces of the ten men were six wolves, carved in exquisite detail, so real looking he touched the rock to see if the fur was really of stone. Each face was different, as if she'd studied a wolf and transformed the living creature into part of the earth for all time. The room was beautiful yet very simple and felt like home and love.

He studied each face carefully, both man and wolf, knowing these were the important beings in her life. He wondered, if things had been different, whether his face would have been on the wall, immortalized with her family.

Along the bottom of the wall she had carved sentences in the Carpathian language, the letters intricate with vines and leaves weaving in and out of them along with finely etched flowers woven into the sentences.

Siv pide kod. Pitaam mustaakad sielpesaambam. Love transcends evil. I hold your memories safe in my soul.

Once again, as he passed his hand over the words, he felt the emotion pouring from the wall, so much so that he felt burning behind his eyes. Her love for her brothers, for her family and her pack, was tremendous and unwavering. Even with the knowledge that her brothers were dead to her, that they had betrayed her memory in the worst possible way, she not only was determined, but she succeeded in remembering them only as the family she had loved and adored.

There was courage in those words, he decided. Courage and strength and determination. If there was a way to recover the lost souls of her brothers through sheer love and forgiveness, she would find a way. He traced the small crosses cut deep beneath each of her brothers' faces and those of the De La Cruz brothers. Protection sparked back at him, as if that wall held the safeguards to protect her loving memories should she encounter the evil that her family had chosen to become.

A short tunnel veered off to the right and an open arch led through to a third room. He glanced inside the third room, which was nearly an extension of her family room to find a soothing pool, with a small real waterfall spilling out of the rock. This room had carvings, but just the faint beginnings of them. He could make out a huge tree trunk, with many long, sweeping branches reaching across the rock as if to shade the pool. It was a work in progress and he wished he'd be there to watch her work.

He ducked his head and entered the tunnel. His shoulders scraped against either side. Above the archway leading down into another room there was a cross cut deep. Already, before he even entered, he sensed a difference. Where the other rooms were feminine and homey, filled with soothing peace, love and comfort, this room was all about business and purpose. This was a workroom-a war room-and just as she had been meticulous in detailing her art, she was the same way with her weapons.

She forged her own swords and knives. Even the bullets in her gun were made by her. She appeared to be a master craftsman, her weapons as carefully and patiently forged as her carvings on the rock walls. He was amazed at the variety of weapons; some he'd seen before, others he was uncertain how to use. Books were scattered among the shelves of tools, again, well-worn and often read.

One wall held shelves of books carefully penned in a feminine hand, and, opening them, Razvan recognized mage spells Xavier often used. Beside each one was penned a second spell, countering or corrupting the first. Book after book appeared to be dedicated to finding a way to defeat Xavier's spells. Razvan found it very interesting and became lost for a while, reading her notes, and her conclusions and the twists she put on the words to counter everything Xavier had ever taught. She'd obviously spent hundreds of years detailing Xavier's deeds, poring over the spell books she had used when she'd attended his school so many centuries earlier and working to find ways to defeat the mage at every turn. And it all made sense.

Excitement coursed through him. He had come to believe, after centuries of captivity, that Xavier was invincible. The Carpathians had failed to defeat him. The Lycans had failed. The jaguars. Humans had been trapped and tortured and made into ruthless puppets. And the worst scourge of all-the undead-had made an unholy alliance with him. Razvan had seen it all. Yet, right here in this room, one person, one woman, had dedicated her life to stopping Xavier.

Razvan looked at the walls, knowing he would find an inscription. Each wall contained a single word and one held three lines. Feldolgaztak. Kumalatak. Kutnitak. Prepare. Sacrifice. Endure. There were no fancy letters this time, no vines and flowers interwoven in those stark words. Her mantra.

He walked across the room and crouched down beside the wall where she had carved her code, using the Carpathian language, deep into the rock wall. Four lines this time.

Kod elava es kod nime kutni nimet. Sieljela isanta. Evil lives and has a name. Purity of soul triumphs.

Turelam agba kontsalamaval-Tuhanos loylyak turelamak sa?e diutalet. Patience is the warrior's true weapon-a thousand patient breaths bring victory.

Todhan lo kuraset agbapaamoroam. Knowledge flies the sword true to its aim.

Pitasz baszu, piwtasz igazaget. No vengeance, only justice.

All of this-everything she did-was in preparation for her ultimate battle with Xavier. This place was a safe haven, protected by extraordinary safeguards with no way to penetrate the miles of rock. The mage books, the weapons. She was assembling every possible weapon against the high mage and waiting patiently to strike while she gathered information against him. The war room was a tribute to her vast knowledge of the enemy, her patience, determination and discipline. A picture of his lifemate was emerging, and he felt a sense of pride and respect for her.

Razvan lifted his head and looked around the room. A long, narrow table and workbench covered in tubes and handblown glass of all shapes and sizes caught his attention. He recognized herbs and plants, roots, dried and hung around the room. Sage was prevalent, and various plants to ward off evil. What was she making?

He peered at the book lying beside a twisted tube containing a dark, thick liquid. He sniffed cautiously toward the glass tube as he glanced over the neat, feminine scrawl. The formula had been crossed out and rewritten over and over until she seemed satisfied and had underlined the resulting mixture in thick, dark lines. He couldn't detect any odor at all. When he lifted a carved, smooth ladle, the mixture was clear, not dark. He frowned and looked at the glass tube, certain it was dark.

Along with everything else, she appeared to be a chemist. He examined several of the trays and baskets holding a variety of dried herbs. The workmanship on each of them was incredible, the patterns unique. When he touched them, he knew she had crafted each of them.

He left the room and went back to her family room, trying to think, to form an idea of what he should do. This woman-his lifemate-was patiently assembling the tools to defeat the world's greatest enemy. His memories of her rescuing him were very hazy, but he remembered her eyes, and the feel of her hands, the silk of her hair, the softness of her skin. Most of all he remembered her kindness.

He wanted more than anything to stay to help her achieve her goal, but he knew he was more dangerous to her than any other being on the face of the earth. Through him, Xavier could find and destroy her. Death was far from the worst that the high mage could do to a person; Razvan had learned that through bitter experience. He had been helpless to protect his sister and daughter-even his aunts-but he could protect his lifemate by staying away from her.

He looked around the comfortable lair-a masterpiece of beauty and courage, grateful that, before his death, he'd had a chance to meet her, to see what true light in one's soul was. He'd known only darkness and cruelty, but here he was surrounded by something altogether different-the complete opposite-and he wanted to just stay and bathe in her soul for as long as he dared before he had to leave.

He had never understood what being a lifemate truly was. Two halves of the same soul uniting. Light to darkness-darkness to light. They each needed the other. Just standing in her living quarters with the memory walls rising above him, he felt comfort and warmth, not of the body-he had that now; for the first time in centuries he wasn't shivering-but he felt warmth inside, deep where it counted. She'd given him something he hadn't known and he hadn't yet claimed her, hadn't actually bound their souls together. How much more powerful would these feelings be then?

The temptation shook him and he quickly pushed it away. He'd had no control of his life for centuries. This one moment, when he had choices, he would make the one necessary to protect this woman. Xavier would never get to her through him. She complicated things though. His first thought had been to try to kill Xavier, but he dared not risk falling into the mage's hands again, not when he would know the location of Ivory's lair.

Something stirred in him. A questing. A seeking. Something alien brushing at his mind with sharp talons, scraping at the walls. He stiffened and, without thinking, slammed a barrier so hard, so fast, it shocked him. He hadn't realized he could do such a thing. He recognized that perverted, vile touch. Xavier. The high mage was seeking him, reaching out to find him and possess him.

His heart beat so hard in his chest he thought it might explode. Fear for his lifemate lived and breathed in him, strengthening his resolve to fight Xavier's possession. He raced through the rooms, looking for a way out, fearing that Xavier might be able to see through his eyes. He kept his mind as blank as possible, knowing the mage, when merged, could read his thoughts. He couldn't remember how she'd gotten in. Everything about the journey was so hazy.

He couldn't get through miles of rock, not without knowing where he could safely emerge. He felt trapped and panicked, cursing his fate, that he would once again be the downfall of someone who needed and deserved his protection.

Finding himself in the bedchamber, he rested his hand on the wall, head down, eyes closed, trying to orient himself. To have another possess his body was a wrenching, sickening experience; the details of Xavier and his vile greed and extreme depravity were uppermost in his mind. He would keep him out.

Without warning, pain hit him-excruciating pain. Razvan's eyes snapped open and he looked around, trying to determine what was happening to him. The soil was there, in the deep depression, a rich, beckoning treasure he couldn't resist. He went to his knees in it, but the pain didn't subside.

His body was often taken on journeys through soil, but he had never rested in the rich, rejuvenating loam. Xavier had never dared to allow him that luxury. The soil might have healed his body and restored his strength, which Xavier could ill afford. He was left to languish in a kind of half-life in the ice caves. Razvan wasn't even certain he could survive beneath the earth, or even above it after so many centuries of cold, yet the soil filled him with strength-it just didn't stop the pain.

Xavier, unable to enter his mind, had to be attacking him from a distance. Teeth tore into his shoulder, the serrated edges slicing through bone, sinew and flesh, sawing deeper and deeper, injecting the burning parasites into the wound. He was being eaten alive-fitting justice for one such as him. His own teeth had sunk into his daughter's tiny wrist, and he had watched in horror, unable to protect her, while Xavier had done this very thing, gnawed on her as if she were a bone, a piece of meat to be consumed, his teeth tearing her delicate skin open to get at blood and bone.

He felt the spray of acid burning through his skin, deep-deeper still, vampire blood running in rivers over his flesh, long streams of it branching out over his hands and forearms and down his shoulder, and running down his arm and chest. He recognized the feeling-his wrists and ankles and even his back had often burned from the vampire blood-coated manacles. He had earned that for his failure to keep his family members safe from Xavier. Time after time, he had fought the demon mage, but he'd never been strong enough or wise enough to defeat him.

A burst of pain through his ribs shook him, radiating through his entire body. Pain was a way of life to him. He could push it away now, absorb it into his body and let it consume him. He had long ago learned how to live with agony.

The pain was not his pain. It was too far away. Too distant, the reaction stoic but definitely feminine. Ivory was in trouble. Everything else ceased to matter. He had one reason for his existence-to protect her from any enemy at all costs.

He cleared his mind and fought back the all-consuming emotions he still found difficult to deal with. He built the image of her in his mind, the image of her as he saw her. Soft and feminine, the loving woman who belonged here, in this home of raw beauty.

Ivory. You have need. Tell me how to come to you.

There was the smallest of hesitations. They are hunting you.

He didn't argue with her. She was hurt and she was surrounded by enemies. He could feel the burn of the vampire blood, the pain gnawing at her shoulder and ribs, and the trepidation that she was weak and might not be able to fight her way clear, although she was absolutely determined to try.

Razvan filled her mind with his strength and power, feeding her while he searched her memories and found the information he needed.

Stall them. I will be there soon. Do not fight. They will not attack you as long as you talk with them.

I do not have much time. The admission was humbling to her. My strength is waning.

I will come. I will be there, Ivory. Do not lose hope. He poured his determination and resolve into her mind, knowing she distrusted everyone, and with good cause. And she had every reason to fear and hate him. Xavier's genetic code was in his body.

There was another small hesitation, and then he clearly saw the crack cleverly hidden in her bedchamber where she could slip in and out of the narrow, inches-wide chimney. There was caution in her mind.

Razvan hastened to reassure her. I will scan carefully before I emerge so there will be no trail leading back to your lair.

Now he had the information in his head and he had to be doubly careful that Xavier could not enter his mind. Before he moved, he took that moment to build every possible defense, thickening barriers, making himself stronger than he'd ever been. Stronger than before he entered the thin crack that most would never notice. He streamed to the surface, a threadlike trail of vapor moving upward, weaving back and forth through the layers of rock bed for what seemed an interminable amount of time before he saw a sliver of sky overhead.

I will come. I will be there, Ivory. Do not lose hope.

In hundreds of years she had never relied on anyone but herself and her pack. She was Ivory Malinov, slayer of the dark ones, and she trusted no one, believed in no one. That way, no one could tear her heart out, physically or figuratively. She took a breath and pain nearly blinded her, made her stagger so that the dark one leapt toward her.

Ivory pulled a knife from her belt and stood facing him. She knew his reputation, but thankfully, he didn't know hers. It was an advantage, no matter how small. He wasn't aware the wolves were Carpathian and all the more lethal. He would try to control them-it was standard defense-but it wouldn't work, and that would also give her a small advantage. Ordinarily she would have rushed to attack already, not wait for him to make the first move, but a part of her didn't want to start a war with the Carpathians.

Mikhail held up his hand. «Gregori. There is no need for this.» It was a warning, delivered in a soft, almost gentle voice.

She remembered that same tone-his father's, so gentle and benevolent, the kind eyes, the compassionate, caring wisdom. The voice of reason. He wanted only to help her. An unselfish, gentle man who lived to serve his people. Whatever was best for them. She remembered that voice all too well. The eyes looking at her, looking through her, piercing her soul, seeing her need of knowledge, her need to learn when her brothers couldn't-or wouldn't. That voice soothing her, telling her he would make it right, that he would talk to her brothers when they returned and explain why it was necessary for her to go to the school and learn.

The prince understood. How could he not, when he knew so much more than everyone else? How could he not, when his reasons for doing everything were to serve his people. He had known that she hungered to do more than sit in her home and wait for her lifemate. She wanted to be something, to do something. The prince understood and helped her as she had known he would.

Something twisted inside her stomach. For a brief moment she couldn't feel the throbbing pain in her ribs or the terrible agony of her shoulder, not even the burn from the acid blood or sharp stabbing of the parasites as they bored into her cells. It had never occurred to her in her naivete that the prince had another agenda altogether-that he wanted to get rid of her, send her away because he knew his sick and twisted son would never leave her alone, and that her brothers or the De La Cruz brothers would kill Draven. Instead, she had happily gone off, believing the prince, in all his wisdom, knew so much more than her own family. She'd felt so grown up, so validated. She'd been hopelessly young and trusting in those days.

You have to hurry. I cannot hold out much longer.

She didn't know if her weakness was as much physical as mental. Seeing her brother had shaken her more than she'd realized. She'd vowed to avoid them and hadn't prepared herself mentally for seeing Sergey in his state of evil. He had changed his appearance when he recognized her, giving her a glimpse of her past, of a beloved man who'd held her and rocked her and spent hours teaching her to fight.

It had made her physically ill to shoot him with an arrow. She thought she had successfully separated the past from the present in her mind, but seeing him in person wasn't the same as thinking about him abstractly.

I am coming to you. Stall for time. Use the wolves if you must.

«Allow our healer to help you,» Mikhail said, his voice dropping another octave, becoming almost hypnotic.

She couldn't help but feel the pull of that pure voice, even though over centuries she'd trained herself not to fall prey to sound. Farkas pressed closer to her legs, his body trembling. He was in the same shape as she was.

«I have no need of your help, Dubrinsky,» she said, her voice haughty. «I neither ask nor want anything from you or anyone connected to you.»

Gregori's breath came out in a long, slow hiss.

Her gaze jumped to his face, to the storm gathering in his eyes. If an attack came, it would come from him. She was weak from blood loss and pain, and was running out of time. «You evidently have never learned, in all your years of existence, how a voice can be sweet and pure to the ears, yet hide the truth behind the mask. My brothers chose the path of evil, but they were not wrong in their judgment of the Dubrinsky line. The prince you follow is not at all what you believe him to be.»

Her gaze flicked to Mikhail, holding absolute, utter contempt. «You cannot deceive me, karpatii ku kod-liar, I am only fooled once, and your father was a champion. I wish to leave. Are you holding me prisoner?»

There was a small silence and Gregori slowly shook his head. «Do you believe you can fight all of us and emerge the victor? You are a woman, a Carpathian woman without anyone to protect her. I am sworn to carry out my duty whether you wish it or no.»

Ivory took a breath, and let it out. Be ready, Raja.

The pack bared teeth and faced the threat of the Carpathian males without flinching.

Gary moved then, deliberately placing his body in front of hers, standing between her and the guardian of the prince, ignoring the threat of her pack.

«Please,» he said. «No one wants to take you prisoner. I'm offering my blood freely to you. My life for yours. I'm not certain of the formal words, but if you take what I offer, we'll know you'll at least have a fighting chance should you run into another vampire. No one wants to imprison you."71

«She is infected with the vampire's blood,» Gregori explained. «The parasites have to be removed.»

«I am well aware of the infestation,» Ivory retorted. «I am perfectly capable of healing myself.»

Another male and female materialized just beyond the prince, and Ivory heaved a sigh, wishing she could just sink down into the snow and rest. She recognized the male, with his strong, handsome features, and a smile nearly broke out. Falcon. A friend of her family, of the De La Cruz brothers. He was a loner but a good man. She was grateful to see him, to know that at least a few of the older males still survived with their souls intact.

«Ivory!» Shock registered, shock and happiness. «You are the mysterious woman who saved our son?» Falcon glided forward but stopped abruptly when she stepped back and waved him off with her hand.

«Pesasz jelabam ainaak-long may you stay in the light, Falcon,» she greeted. «It has been many years.»

«You're injured,» the woman exclaimed, hurrying forward.

Falcon stopped her by putting a restraining hand on her arm. «What is going on here?»

Ivory noted that he didn't sound judgmental, just cautious. «I wish to leave and your prince and his servant have dictated otherwise.»

«Only to see to your health, lady,» Gregori said with a slight bow, ignoring her taunt.

The woman frowned. «I'm Sara, Falcon's lifemate. You saved our son and we're indebted to you. No one here wants to harm you.» She sent a small glare toward Gregori. «I can't imagine that anyone here would want to do anything but reward you for your help. I offer freely my blood to help heal you. Both Falcon and I will do our best to heal your wounds, although Gregori is a healer without comparison. He may look intimidating, but he is really a gentle, caring man.»

«I am not intimidated by the dark one,» Ivory denied. «I wish only to go my own way.» The woman tempted her with her offer. A healing would certainly go a long way toward strengthening her, but if she took the dark one's blood, he could track her all the more easily. Blood called to blood. And she would be so vulnerable. He could easily take her blood and then she would always have to worry that he could find her lair. As it was, Sergey knew she lived. He might get it in his head to try to find her.

She sighed and shook her head. «I regret that I cannot take you up on your generous offer, but thank you,» she said to Sara.

Raja growled a warning and she realized that Gregori had moved closer. The dark one halted when she swung toward him, angling the knife up toward the softer parts of his body.

«You would be very foolish indeed, dark one, to try it.»

«You are swaying with weariness,» Gregori said. «If I said anything to make you think I wish you harm, I apologize. Surely you can see my only concern is your health. While we stand here, the parasites have had more of a chance to spread their poison through your body.»

«I am well aware what parasites can and cannot do.»

She reached for Razvan, desperate now. The healer was closer than she was comfortable with, perhaps within striking distance. Ivory wasn't foolish enough to disregard the man's reputation. He was known far and wide throughout the community as a dangerous, ruthless defender of the prince and of the Carpathian people.

Unless I allow him to give me blood, I have no choice but to fight my way out.

You will not have to fight. I give my life for yours. Follow my lead. Talk to the woman, distract them for another couple of minutes.

There was something reassuring in his tone. She had left him a broken, fallen warrior, but he had risen something altogether different. There was confidence in his voice. Razvan was Dragonseeker, one of the oldest and most powerful of all Carpathian lineages, and he had endured torment and suffering for hundreds of years without succumbing to darkness. She had been in his mind, and his memory was long. He had absorbed fighting skills, techniques and strategies. He knew more about Xavier than any other living being and he had more cause to destroy him than any other. She wanted to believe in him. Shaken and weak, she needed to believe in him.

The healer is trying to outwait me. He knows I cannot last.

You will last.

Strength poured into her. «Sara,» she said softly. «I appeal to you. Ask the dark one to step aside. I have done harm to no one here and I want only to leave in peace. You indicated the need to repay me for saving the life of your child. This is what I ask. Simply have your healer step aside.»

Sara looked up at Falcon and then to Mikhail. «I think she sounds reasonable. Please, Gregori, just step aside.»

All of them looked at Sara, who angled closer, more protectively, toward Ivory.

Dirt geysered beneath the heels of the prince and a body materialized behind him, one arm locked tight around Mikhail's neck, the blade of a knife pressed against the heart of the prince. Stormy, merciless eyes locked on the face of the dark one with absolute resolve.

No one moved. No one breathed, remaining statues frozen in time, as if one small mistake would start a bloodbath, and judging by the death in Razvan eyes-and Gregori's-there was little doubt there would be.

Gregori released his breath in a long, slow hiss. «It is a death sentence to threaten the life of the prince.»

Razvan shrugged his shoulders, a casual ripple of power. «I have been under a death sentence since my fourteenth summer. It is nothing new to me. There is nothing you can conceive of to do to me that has not been done already. I accept that I will die this night.» He inclined his head to Gregori, his expression unchanging, as if giving the Carpathian leave to kill him.

A man with nothing to lose, Gregori, often emerges the victor, Mikhail pointed out, a trace of humor in his voice.

Gregori's silver eyes flashed, and there was no answering amusement in them. No one lays his knife at your heart and walks away unscathed.

«Step away from my lifemate. Once she is away, you can do as you will,» Razvan instructed.

«No,» Ivory protested. «I remain with you. We will fight our way free.»

Sara tried to step closer to Ivory. «This is crazy. Mikhail,» she appealed to the prince. «Stop this. Let them go.»

«Do you know who this man is?» Falcon asked softly. «Ivory, do you have any idea of the crimes Razvan has committed against our people?»

Again Razvan didn't flinch-and neither did the knife.

«You know nothing about him,» Ivory said. «You have no right to pass judgment when you do not know the facts.»

There is no need to defend me.

Razvan was shocked that she would. She stood there swaying, looking far too deceptively fragile for the warrior he knew her to be. Her body was tall and straight, her flawless skin marred now by the tracks of vampire blood and the teeth tears in her shoulder. There was something very intimate in knowing that beneath that flawless exterior, he knew the true woman, the scars of death and defiance. The reserve of courage that it must have taken to pull her body back together and lay so broken in the ground for hundreds of years while nature tried to repair her.

He alone knew the depths and strengths of her when no other on the face of the earth did. Pride in her shook him. Her courage and ferocity humbled him.

«That is true,» Falcon said, remaining calm in the midst of the tension. «You do not know this prince. I have given my allegiance to Mikhail. He is worthy of my respect and protection. You know me. More important, you know the De La Cruz brothers. They also have given their sworn allegiance to Mikhail. Manolito gave his life for Mikhail and Gregori restored him to this world.» His gaze flicked to Razvan. «I believe your lifemate injected the poison into Manolito.»

Razvan didn't flinch and the hand holding the knife was rock steady. «Ivory, I want you to come to my side and take my blood. Take enough that you can be at full strength.»

She looked stricken and shook her head silently.

It is the only way. Your purpose and your preparations will be lost if you do not get away. We cannot stop them all. I knew when I came that I would be exchanging my life for yours. It is an honor.

«Her blood is infected with parasites,» Mikhail said. «Keep the knife to my heart and allow my healer to rid her of Xavier's vile worms.»

Ivory flinched when she heard the high mage's name.

Gregori's gaze flicked toward the prince, flashing him with a glitter of silver. This is not amusing, Mikhail. We know too little about this man. He may very well shove that knife into your heart under Xavier's orders. You would not be wearing that smirk then.

I have no doubt that you would find a way to save me.

«Razvan,» Mikhail said. «We are not looking to harm your lifemate, only to make certain she can survive an attack on the way back to her home. We offer both of you friendship. Your sister, Natalya, is here with her lifemate, Vikirnoff. Lara, your daughter, and her lifemate, Nicolas De La Cruz, are residing among us, working to save our unborn children. She has been a tremendous asset to our people. Your aunts, Tatijana and Branislava, are safe and alive, at present under the ground healing. I offer safe passage to both of you.»

Razvan flicked Ivory a quick glance. It is up to you.

Ivory drew in her breath. Life or death for her lifemate. He was putting his life into her hands so easily. Little did he know how abhorrent it was to her to allow favors from the Dubrinsky family. She could scarce make herself accept, yet she forced her body forward stiffly until she stood beside the healer, her fingers closed tightly around the hilt of a knife. She nodded her head toward the healer.

She'll probably stab me when I'm done. Again those silver eyes flicked toward the prince. You won't be laughing so much when our wives give me hell for allowing someone to stab you.

I don't know. It might be amusing. Neither will be angry with me.

Gregori's breath hissed through his teeth as he sent the prince another smoldering look before laying gentle hands on Ivory's shoulder. She trembled, much like a wild animal under the hands of a rescuer removing it from a trap. Without being consciously aware of it, the healer murmured soothing words in the ancient language, trying to reassure her by his voice and the touch of his hands that he meant her no harm.

Gregori closed his eyes and ceased to be a fierce warrior, ferocious guardian of the prince and the Carpathian people. All ego, everything he was, he surrendered, sending himself outside his body and into that of the wounded female. He became energy, a healing entity, moving through her bloodstream to find and repair all damage from the inside out.

He nearly forgot himself, one of the rare times in his centuries of healing, when he discovered the way her bones and sinew were so crudely knitted together. Ridges and evidence of inside and outside scar tissue were everywhere throughout her body, even on her organs, unheard of in Carpathian society. He pulled out of her for just one moment, shaken, unable to look at her while he tried to puzzle out how anyone could have survived what had made those scars.

Mikhail. There was shock when it was difficult to shock Gregori. There was awe when it was nearly impossible to astonish him. Mostly there was respect. It is as if she was chopped into small pieces. No part of her is untouched other than her face, and even her neck has these patchwork ridges. I believe she was cut into pieces, but how could she survive?

He sent the impressions to Mikhail. Her true skin is a patchwork. I feel blades sawing through her skin and bones, around her neck, hacking off her head. This woman has suffered greatly. There was a breath taken. A crashing heartbeat. Abruptly Gregori pulled his mind from Mikhail's.

Tell me. The two words were a command, nothing less.

Your eldest brother assaulted her. I feel his taint, a stamp of suffering I have not felt before. He did this to her. Or he was part of it.

Mikhail closed his eyes for a moment. She has reason to hate my family.

Undoubtedly.

Do you feel animosity toward the Carpathian people? Would she try to destroy us?

There is great resolve, but not to end your life or to destroy us. Her determination is bred into her bones. I would like to know more of this woman.

Gregori shed his physical body once more and reentered Ivory, paying attention to the bones and organs, bathing them in healing light as he passed through, examining her blood and cells for the infestation of parasites. He forced more of the intruders from her body through her pores, incinerating them as they wiggled in the snow, trying to find a target. It was a messy, exhausting business, and she sank into the snow, her strength finally giving out.

Her wolves pushed close, forming a circle of protection, with Ivory and the healer's body inside. Gregori was dependent on Falcon to keep his physical form safe while he worked, and the ancient Carpathian remained very still, watching the wolves very carefully.

While Gregori worked, the knife never wavered, nor did Razvan ask anything about his family. His entire concentration was on Ivory's safety. He watched the others, leaving it to her wolf pack to warn him should Gregori try anything to harm her. That took discipline and restraint. At no time did the blade of the knife penetrate the prince's skin.

Mikhail allowed his body to breathe naturally. «Gregori is a tremendous healer. He will make certain no parasites remain.»

«I appreciate his service.»

«You have no need to continue to hold me hostage,» Mikhail said. «Gregori snarls and snaps, but he has no wish to harm your lifemate, only to heal her. He is driven by his code. He will not be so understanding over your continued threats. I have given my word for safe passage for both of you. It would be foolish to escalate the situation when your woman will need care.»

Razvan held the knife for a few more moments, as if weighing the truth of Mikhail's words and then the knife disappeared and he stepped back into the shadows where he had a clear path to all three male Carpathians.

Mikhail didn't move out of striking distance, maintaining his show of faith. Falcon glided a little closer so that he was in a better position to insert his body between the prince and potential harm should there be need.

«Tell me, Razvan,» Mikhail said, «does Xavier still truly live?» He studied the gray-streaked hair. Few Carpathians went gray; only the gravest of all injuries could produce that kind of damage to a Carpathian. When looking closely the prince could see signs of suffering etched into the worn face. Razvan was a handsome man, but he looked older, weathered.

«He does,» Razvan confirmed.

«Does he possess your body at will?»

«He does,» Razvan answered, without flinching. «Although for the first time, I was able to keep him out. I have never been at this strength before, so it is possible, with time, I can learn to keep him at bay.»

Falcon stirred, his dark eyes looking deep into the shadows as if he might see their oldest, most dangerous enemy. «Do you endanger your lifemate?»

«I am a danger to anyone near.»

Mikhail flicked Falcon a quick, quelling glance. «How is it you came to escape?»

«The last attack on the ice cave forced him to move me from the chamber where I was normally held. He had little time to prepare, and it wasn't as secure. I had not been fed in days. I believe he thought me too weak to make the attempt.» Razvan shrugged.

Mikhail studied the face ravaged by hardship. That small shrug told him a lot about the man. He wasn't asking for sympathy, nor was he apologizing for the life he'd been forced to lead. Those simple sentences spoke volumes.

Mikhail bowed. «You are a true Dragonseeker.» No Dragonseeker had ever succumbed to the darkness preying on the males of their species. If anyone had reason to embrace bitterness, hatred and anger, it was Razvan, if all that was suspected was correct. «We are in a battle for our very existence. Perhaps there are things you can tell us that might aid in our fight to save our children. Lara has been invaluable to us.»

Razvan kept his gaze on Ivory, not answering. Just hearing his daughter's name was hard, and emotions swamped him, but he refused to let it show. He had centuries of practice at learning to keep his face a mask, and he didn't allow the prince to see how the mere thought of Lara twisted him up inside. Ivory lifted her lashes and looked up at him. His gaze locked with hers and his heart jumped.

She knew. She had to be in tremendous pain-she had to be fearful of the outcome of his threatening the prince of the Carpathian people-but a small half smile curved her mouth. He knew that smile was for him. That secret smile locked them together, fit them like two pieces of a puzzle, private and intensely intimate. Her eyes were soft as she sent warmth into his mind.

Something deep inside of him twisted into hard knots. Something else melted. His heart gave a curious flutter and his throat closed. Ivory. Why had he found her now? She was the most unexpected treasure. No one, least of all him, deserved her, with her tenacious courage and generosity.

Feminine amusement slid into his mind. Do not deceive yourself. No one but you would call me generous. I am the slayer. That is all.

She was so much more-she was everything. He kept his eyes locked with hers while she shuddered again as more parasites fell from her pores to the blood-spattered ground. He filled her mind with strength and the scents he had discovered in her lair, the ones he knew soothed her, to sustain her through the rest of the healing.

The extraction of parasites was a difficult process. The healer had to be especially careful not to miss even one and, as Gregori rejoined his body, he swayed with weariness.

«She needs blood,» Gregori announced, and sank into the snow beside her.

«So do you,» Mikhail said, gliding over the snow to the healer's side. He held out his wrist in a casual, easy gesture that spoke of longtime familiarity with donating blood.

Razvan hesitated. He had no idea of the extent of Xavier's hold on him. If it was cellular or molecular, if he gave his blood to Ivory, would Xavier be able to somehow possess her as well? He didn't know and he didn't want to chance it.

The healer slashed him with peculiar silver eyes, eyes that reminded him eerily of Xavier. They glittered with menace, a threat, a reprimand, and for the first time in his encounter with these men, he felt shame.

«You protect me,» Ivory said, «and I am grateful. No one here has an understanding of what you-we-deal with.»

«I offer my blood freely,» Sara reiterated and stepped close to Ivory, holding out her wrist in offering.

Ivory inclined her head. «I am grateful.»

The blood was rich, a Carpathian's blood, hitting her system like a fireball of energy, soaking into her cells and aiding the healer's careful repair of her shoulder and ribs.

Gregori studied Razvan's face. «You fear to give your blood to your lifemate.» It was more of a statement than a question, and this time a hint of respect crept in. Every male Carpathian was driven to provide for their lifemate. «You have not claimed her.»

Razvan shrugged. «I cannot. I will not.»

Ivory lifted her head, her tongue sliding over the pinpricks in Sara's wrist, dark eyes gleaming, going almost amber, much like a wolf 's eyes. «There is no need to explain to any of these men.»

«Ivory,» Mikhail said, his voice gentle, «no one is accusing Razvan of failing you. Quite the contrary. And the man who gave his services to heal you is the man who brought my eldest brother to the justice he so deserved. Gregori spent three months in the ground from the injuries he sustained.»

Her chin rose. «I spent three hundred years in the ground.» As soon as the words slipped out, the first sign of bitterness, she looked ashamed. «Forgive me, healer. I have long been away from the company of others and have forgotten my manners.»

«There is no need to apologize,» Gregori said, but he was still studying Razvan's worn face. «I would like to examine you for signs Xavier might have left behind.»

There was a stunned silence. Mikhail frowned. Falcon stepped partially in front of Gregori and Razvan actually took a step farther back into the shadows.

«You have no conception of how dangerous that might be,» Razvan said.

«If no one tries,» Gregori pointed out, «you are lost to us.»

«I have been lost these hundreds of years.»

«And all the information you possess that might aid in our fight against our greatest enemy is lost as well,» Gregori continued. «And your lifemate is lost as well.»

«I do not factor into the equation,» Ivory protested. «Do not put pressure on him to do anything he thinks is wrong by using me as your leverage.»

Gregori flicked her a quelling glance. «You have much to contribute to the world at large, Dragonseeker. I wish only to take a look.»

Perhaps he is right. Deliberately Ivory didn't look at Razvan. It is solely your decision and I will back you all the way, but perhaps we can find a way to break Xavier's hold on you. I suspect there is a way.

Razvan turned the idea over in his mind. He hadn't thought about living, only dying. Dying represented freedom from Xavier's possession, from mental and physical torment, and now even from his memories and the emotions they elicited. Ivory had used the term we. He had never thought in those terms either. He looked around at the small group.

He had never thought he would be standing among Carpathians and not have to fight his way out. A part of him didn't trust their acceptance of him.

As if reading his mind, Gregori shook his head. «I do not altogether trust that you pose no threat to Carpathians, but I am willing to find out.»

Razvan felt the challenge of those words. Gregori was willing to put himself in jeopardy in order to protect the Carpathian people and perhaps to aid Razvan. Did Razvan have the courage to allow him to enter his body to see for himself what Xavier had done? Guilt lay heavy in his mind.

His memories of earlier had faded behind the barriers he'd erected for sanity's sake, and he was no longer certain what he had or hadn't done. There were weeks, months, perhaps even years he no longer remembered, and he was afraid to examine what had happened. Xavier had slowly, successfully beat him down until he could no longer fight the mage.

If he allowed Gregori to enter his body and examine him, Gregori would know every humiliating and degrading moment of his life.

I will enter with the healer. I can protect your memories if anything were to be incriminating. Otherwise, whatever he finds is on Xavier, not you.

His heart turned over. She so clearly aligned herself with him, but why? They were meant to be lifemates, it was true, but they didn't know each other, and he was the most notorious criminal the Carpathians had.

I have been inside your head many times these past three weeks. I am an outsider as well. And I believe absolutely that you are the key to destroying Xavier.

That was a reason he could understand. He wasn't certain it was true, that he was the key to destroying Xavier, but he knew her purpose was absolutely unswerving. What did he have to lose? Their respect? He could care less. That had gone centuries ago. He was more than willing to face the dawn. But he didn't want her to see, to know, to live through the things he had seen and done, whether he was a party to them or not.

He knew the faces of every woman Xavier had violated with his body. The alluring lies, the sweet, deceptive promises, impregnating an innocent woman in order to take the child she conceived with him for the blood. Always the blood. He didn't remember their names, but he remembered the tears when they knew the truth. He remembered the sense of betrayal and the taunting laughter of the mage.

There had been so many killed over the centuries: mages, humans, one or two Carpathians who had been deceived and murdered by his hand. He remembered every face, every expression. They haunted him every moment he was awake. He had been dishonored so many times he couldn't remember any other way of life.

This was his moment-he could take up the burden of helping his lifemate hunt and destroy the world's greatest enemy, or he could give up and walk into the sun, telling himself he was protecting everyone. By helping, he would be exposing the sins of his past to both Ivory and the healer. There would be nowhere to hide from himself and the crimes his body had been used to commit. He would have to face them every day of his existence. And he risked falling back into Xavier's hands. He looked around him at the circle of faces. There was no impatience, no restless movements. They simply waited for a decision.

If I am tainted beyond the ability to be saved from Xavier, give me your word that you will slay me, lifemate. I want only you to see that damning evidence.

Ivory caught her breath at the enormity of what he asked of her, drawing the attention of the dark one. She kept her gaze locked with Razvan. To kill her own lifemate . . .

I ask that you carve me on your wall, that I can remain safe in your soul. Do me that service, although I may be unworthy. If you keep me safe, I will have a chance in the next life.

Ivory's fingers crept into Raja's thick fur and clutched there. Her throat closed and for a moment her eyes burned. She held his gaze, refusing to look away from his courage. It will be my honor.

Razvan continued to look at her, soaking her into his mind, drawing her into his lungs, feeling her courage and strength, pride in her welling up until he nearly burst with it. He took her courage for his own and, still looking at Ivory, nodded his head to the healer.

«I ask that you follow my lifemate's lead,» Razvan said. «If she wants you to leave, give us your word that you will do so and all of you will leave us immediately.»

Gregori exchanged a long look with the prince. He means to commit suicide or have his lifemate slay him.

You cannot save the world, Gregori, Mikhail sent back, his voice weary. You can only do your best. If you can help him, do so; otherwise we leave them to their fate. It is their wish and any Carpathian, male or female, has the right to choose death over dishonor.

«So be it,» Gregori said aloud to Razvan. «Mikhail and Falcon will guard our bodies while we try this.» He looked at Ivory. «Are you strong enough? If Xavier attacks him while you are in his mind, can you fend the mage off?»

Her lashes raised and she met the dark one's gaze with eyes of steel. Warrior's eyes. Calm. Cool. Remote. «Worry about yourself, healer.»

Gregori inclined his head, a brief smile somewhere between amusement and respect touching his mouth. He gestured for Razvan to sit in the snow between them. As Razvan settled down, a little tense from being in such a vulnerable position, five of the six wolves made a circle around them, with Farkas lying beside Ivory, his head in her lap. Ivory laid one hand in his fur and the other on the hilt of her knife.

Mikhail, Falcon, Sara and Gary took up positions around them to better protect the circle.

Ivory closed her eyes to send herself seeking outside her body. Razvan stopped her with a gentle hand to her arm. Her lashes lifted and she met his gaze.

I just need to see you looking at me one more time. Just like this. No condemnation. No disgust. No fear. You look at me as if I am a person to you.

She lifted her chin. You are much more than a person to me, Razvan. She deliberately used his name. You are my lifemate. In this world, the next, or both.

The caressing note in her voice flooded him with warmth. A slow smile curved his mouth. It felt rusty, like his lips might crack and his jaw might break, but inside where no one could see, he held that first smile close.

«Ready?» she asked.

«Just be careful. Both of you,» Razvan cautioned.

Ivory shed her body and entered her lifemate. Gregori's light burned hot and bright, almost luminescent, the mark, she knew, of a strong healer. He allowed her to take the lead, although she sensed his reluctance. There were scars inside the body, a multitude of them, and signs of torture beyond endurance, yet Razvan had endured.

She moved to his brain. Before she allowed Gregori to delve too deep, she intended to keep her promise to Razvan. She alone would know if he had cause for the guilt that weighed so heavily on his shoulders. She alone would know whether he was truly the criminal he had been branded as for so long.

It had been difficult to maintain her objectivity when she'd encountered the scars that reminded her of her own, but his memories were a virtual minefield. Xavier's experiments and tortures were unthinkable, the things he'd forced Razvan to endure, to watch, to participate in. It was a wonder that he was sane. She moved through his brain, soaking in his memories until she felt saturated and ill. Yes, his body had been used time and again to commit crimes, but his spirit, the essence of who Razvan was, had not been present.

She moved aside and allowed the healer entrance. They moved through his brain, searching carefully for evidence of Xavier. While they worked, they had to share Razvan's burden of memories, of a life of pain and suffering, of mental anguish. Yet he had fought back, holding on to sanity, sometimes by a thin thread, by the toughness and honor that was inherently Dragonseeker. Her heart wept for that lonely warrior, and she felt Gregori, strong and disciplined, weep with her as he moved through Razvan's memories, seeking to find anything that might be Xavier's fingerprints-a way for Xavier to enter at will.

There was no way to go through centuries of torment without it taking a toll. Ivory had to pull out and take a breath. Gregori followed her closely.

«He gave up his body when he was less than twenty to save his sister. And he inadvertently traded a piece of his soul for his daughter's life.» Ivory lifted wet lashes to look at Gregori and then turned her head to her lifemate. «That is your greatest crime.»

«One of duty and love,» Gregori added. «You are no criminal, Razvan. You are a true Dragonseeker.» He sent a quick glance toward the prince. «No doubt I shall hear often how others recognized your true worth first.»

«No doubt,» Mikhail murmured.

«Can you remove Xavier's hold on my soul?» Razvan asked. «If he was to possess my body right now, he could see all of you, he could use me to strike at the prince, or at my own lifemate. I cannot take that kind of chance.»

«If Xavier found a way to mark an entrance to your body, then we can find a way to remove it,» Ivory said. «I have studied him carefully, and each time I run across a new work he has done, I have found the way to unravel it. I know this can be done.»

Gregori drew in his breath. Did you hear what she said, Mikhail?

I am not so old that I'm deaf.

Gregori kept his grin to himself. These two have far more information on our enemy than we have managed to gain in the time we have been trying.

We didn't exactly know Xavier was alive until recently.

«Ivory,» Sara said. «Do you know a way to stop the endless cycle of his microbes? He's mutated them in some way and grown them to penetrate the soil and find us. They cause miscarriages. Lara has been invaluable in trying to keep the women free, but she is only one person and cannot be turned fully until we find a permanent solution.»

«If Xavier has used his gifts for evil, I am certain I can undo whatever he has wrought. I have long studied his methods and successfully countered each of his spells.» Ivory spoke with confidence, not from bragging or ego, but obviously from experience. «I would have to study the microbes. Do you have samples?»

«We can get them,» Sara said.

«I can take them to my laboratory.» Ivory glanced up at the night sky. «We have a few hours left, but not enough, so I will return here tomorrow and you can bring them to me. I have spent most of my time beneath the earth and I am extremely light sensitive.»

We have a few things in common. Razvan's flick of his dark eyes showed camaraderie. He had spent most of the last few centuries beneath the earth as well, in the ice caves, and he was equally as sensitive.

Again there was that flood of warmth he associated with her. Comforting. Easing the aching loneliness that was such a part of him.

«You are welcome to come to my home. My lifemate is with child and staying close. She would very much like to meet you,» Mikhail offered. «And my brother's lifemate, Shea, and Gary have been working nonstop on trying to find a solution. Perhaps if you spoke with them it might eliminate several steps for your work.»

Ivory shrugged. «I thank you for the invitation, but until we know whether we can prevent Xavier from knowing our moves, it would be best to stay as far from you as possible.»

«I agree,» Gregori said before Mikhail could answer. He sent the prince a smoldering glare. «You and Raven must be protected at all times.»

Mikhail flashed Razvan a small grin. «Do you see what it is like to live with him? Nag, nag, nag. And he is my daughter's lifemate as well.»

«In this instance, I have to agree with him,» Razvan said. «If Xavier had an entrance through me to strike at you, he would be unable to resist. The thought of torturing me mentally amuses him. He is particularly fond of using me to harm my sister. If he could use me to harm the prince of the Carpathian people, and make certain I knew it, he would be elated.»

Ivory felt the wrenching pain in Razvan, although his voice was steady and his expression gave nothing away. Sorrow weighed heavily on him. With his emotions so new and raw, difficult to control, his love for Natalya, his determination to keep her safe at all costs, had infuriated Xavier, and now Razvan could remember and feel every betrayal as if it were the cut of a knife.

«If we can find his portal, Dragonseeker,» Gregori said, «we might be able to close it.» Once more he looked to Ivory. «Let's get it done.»

Ivory stroked her fingertips over his jaw, her touch lingering on his skin for just a moment. Abruptly, she shed her body and followed Gregori, pure light and energy, seeking darkness that had to be hiding somewhere inside her lifemate. While she didn't want to admire anything about Gregori, she couldn't help herself. He sorted through memories fast, processing each horrible event quickly and discarding it, looking for that moment Razvan had traded his body for his sister's life.

They reached that memory, so long ago, centuries, a young boy offering himself to a madman, to a killer, to keep his sister from harm. Ivory had to fight to stay in the form of energy. It was so difficult exploring those old memories, that boy beaten down but valiant, trying to shield those he loved, seeing too much evil every day. She examined everything from all angles of that memory, looking for something that had allowed Xavier to take possession.

Not here. Gregori moved forward in time quickly, sorting through data fast, looking for something that Xavier had done, some trigger word, something that might indicate he had possessed Razvan's body at will.

Wait! Ivory had been paying more attention to Razvan's memories of himself. The way he looked at what was happening around him. He was Dragonseeker, turned fully by his aunts in their effort to give him the necessary strength to escape. He had the mind of a true Dragonseeker. He had resolved to travel the world in spirit, rather than allow Xavier to continue to «use» him. He wasn't aware, but the use of his body at that time was an illusion Xavier created to make Razvan believe the mage was all-powerful.

Realizing he had little hope of escape, kept starving and weak, Razvan used his waning strength to shed his body, leaving it vulnerable to Xavier's attack. Ivory saw the exact instant Xavier entered into that shell and left pieces of himself behind. Now they knew the time and the how, but they still had to find the small pieces of Xavier and find a way to extract them.

Ivory began to chant softly in the Carpathian language, sending the words vibrating through both Razvan and Gregori.

I call to me all that is good to aid me in my desperate plight.

Sky send to me the purest light.

I plead for the song that I may sing to reveal that which is evil buried within.

Light of sky, burning bright, find that which is dark and make it light.

Evil one, I call forth the blight you left behind.

Light burst through Ivory and she directed it into Razvan's body, allowing it to seek out the darkness left behind. The light swam into his bloodstream, rushed through his mind and heart, and sought to go deeper into the very essence of his soul until Razvan's being was entirely illuminated. In his mind there was a dark scar, a very small ridge that Ivory recognized. There was one in his heart, one pumping through his bloodstream and the last in his soul. Four. Heart, mind, body and soul. No wonder Xavier managed to possess Razvan's body at will. Even with that, Razvan had fought back for centuries.

Razvan appeared splintered, as if he'd been broken apart and put back together wrong. Ivory's breath rushed out in a long, slow hiss. She had been in pieces, her body filtering through the soil, struggling to pull itself together, so fractured she couldn't even knit her skin and bones back together evenly. This was worse than mere flesh. This was the very essence of who Razvan was. As each point of darkness was revealed, Ivory attached a thread of white light, anchoring it so that all of the pieces could be kept connected.

Ivory knew without Gregori having to tell her that she had to provide the light to repair the fractures to Razvan's soul and drive out that small splinter of evil. Words were powerful, the truth and rightness of them to bring his fractured mind together. They could tune sound to the true rhythm of Razvan's body to restore balance and push the fragment of evil from his bloodstream. But the heart . . .

I do not know how to love, healer. There was despair in her voice. I lost that emotion a long time ago. He will be lost because of me.

There are all kinds of love, Ivory, and you are capable of all of them. He is a warrior first. Love him for that. He is a man alone who fought for all those around him and did not succumb to darkness when others embraced the darkness with far less to drive them. Love him for that. Find what you have to give and it will be enough when he's never had anything.

Ivory took a breath and steadied herself. The healer's faith was convincing. She felt herself settle. This was a battle for a man's sanity, for his very soul, and they would win because they had to.

When we chase out the pieces of Xavier, the splinters will need to find a host. Gregori spoke to both Razvan and Ivory.

Something in Gregori's voice made everything in her go still.

Long ago, I experimented with the forbidden and broke our laws. I have a need to understand how things work and I violated our sacred laws to find out.

The confession was given freely, but Ivory knew it was more than that. Gregori not only wanted to warn them what to expect, but he was also giving Razvan and Ivory a piece of himself because he knew so many terrible things in Razvan's life. It was a great risk for Gregori to admit such a thing and she respected the healer a lot more.

What was put inside of you, Razvan, can be removed. I have done this myself.

Razvan was silent a long moment while Gregori waited for his condemnation. Razvan sighed before he spoke. Sometimes, what started as wrong can be turned to good. I pray that is the case. I am ready, but take no chances that you may open yourself to him.

Ivory began to sing, synching her tones to Razvan's body's natural rhythm. Gregori and Ivory matched the beat of his heart, the breath in his lungs, so that the notes flowed through all of them together, vibrating in every cell and organ. Blood rushed in and out of his heart, ebbing and flowing in his veins.

I call to blood flowing, hot like the tide, Seek that which is dark, holding it still inside. Pulsing heat, spread and sear, Cleansing and cleaning that which is unclear.

Like the sound of waves rolling, the chant spread through Razvan's veins so that heat spread like molten lava, hot and thick and cleansing. Every cell embraced the steaming inferno, muscles and organs reaching for it. The heat gathered steam, rising, picking up speed as the song changed tempo. The notes provided the cleansing, each of them tuned to the exact same rhythm so that only that small dark splinter hiding in his veins, running before the purifying heat, was discordant.

Gregori moved quickly now that the splinter was running, murmuring the words to exorcise Xavier from Razvan's body. He trapped the tiny fragment so that it couldn't burrow or hide, his words holding it prisoner.

Ivory began to sing again, the notes changing to those of immense power, her words resonating throughout Razvan's mind. Gregori's voice joined hers, in perfect harmony, and then counterpointing, calling, commanding.

We seek that which is dark, that which has lain fallow.

We command you forth from the darkness and shadow.

We command you, Xavier, come forth into the light.

We abolish every part of you, Xavier, from Razvan's mind.

Razvan could hear, as if from a great distance away, the sound of Gregori and Ivory's voices rising, the notes tuned exactly to his body's rhythm, the words powerful and commanding. He knew words were powerful. Names. He heard them call to the high mage, the name reverberating through his mind, demanding he leave, demanding their bitter enemy leave and not return. He heard the ancient Carpathian language, the beat of his heart, his pulse, and knew he wasn't alone.

Gregori and Ivory walked with him, striding toward the parasitic fragment with absolute confidence and mastery. He actually felt the moment the splinter rolled into a ball, desperate to escape the trueness and purity of the cleansing words. Once again it was Gregori who drove the fragment into the holding prison with the first one.

Ivory's song changed. Her voice grew soft and loving as she called on memories of her lost childhood and strong brothers holding her close. She remembered the love she had for her family, intense and consuming. She poured that love into her song. Her voice was powerful and persuasive, bringing tears to the eyes of all who heard.

Heart that is pure with body worn, I find you beautiful standing tired and alone. I give you my heart, I will shed your tears, Take my hand, I will hold all of your fears. I give you my word, no bindings attached, I give my love freely so no harm may attack. Having fought a long war, withstanding many sorrows, Know that though you are weary, I am your tomorrow. Cling to my words, hear the song that I sing, Let it sink deep that you may find peace once again.