Dark Song

15

As Ferro dropped into the woods, he was surrounded by an oppressive feel of utter gloom. Airless, stifling, even suffocating, the farther he drifted into the interior, the heavier the oppressive force surrounded him. There was no doubt that Sergey as well as other vampires had invaded the forest to the point that nature could not fight back against such an abomination.

The vampire was unclean. Anything it touched withered. Blackened. No vegetation could remain alive and thriving near it. Everything about the vampire went against nature. As Ferro drifted through the trees, he noted that many of the trunks and branches were twisted into macabre shapes and already blackened in places.

Dark sap ran down the deadened bark, like rivers of blood, to pool at the exposed roots. Birds, tree frogs and lizards were caught, held and died slow, ugly deaths in the thick acid-filled sap. Ferro, like all Carpathians, was a keeper of woods, of nature. The sight of a once-beautiful forest with the animals and fowl reduced to such a state was difficult to witness.

Sandu, Benedek and Petru moved through the depressing woods as well, sizing up the dark, twisted trees, noting every position of the crows and owls that prowled the twisted branches with beady, shiny eyes, searching for any movement that would trigger their instantaneous response, a warning to their masters.

Ferro gave thought to what Elisabeta had revealed to him. The Malinovs wanted to take over leadership. Theirs had been a total power play. They were brilliant generals, ambitious and driven, and had the discipline and patience to carry out their schemes. Sergey did not have the genius of his brothers when it came to planning battles. The vampire knew if he was going to have a chance to defeat the prince of the Carpathians, he would need Elisabeta.

What had Sergey developed to cope with his brothers and their arrogance, even as a child? Sergey would have to be cunning. He would be crueler, because his brothers had been cruel to him. Merciless because his brothers had been merciless to him. He would want to dominate. He had shown those traits in his dealings with Elisabeta, in the way he treated her, even though she was the one to get him through those long centuries, and he needed her.

He had stolen her when she’d been a child and he had already been a fully grown male Carpathian hunter. He had known what he was doing. He had planned the abduction carefully. He couldn’t possibly have known what Elisabeta was capable of—the defeat of his brothers. Did he give her credit for that? Or over the centuries did he convince himself that he was really the one with the genius? Of course he thought himself the genius.

Ferro circled back around, moving to the outer area of the woods, back toward the lake, keeping to a very slow, drifting pace. It took a great deal of patience to stay almost still when time was a factor and the vampire would be coming soon, but he had honed that trait in centuries of hunting and had it in abundance.

He doubted very much if Sergey gave Elisabeta any credit for defeating his brothers. The vampire was vain. He would believe that he was the true genius in the family. He had slivers of all of his brothers and the high mage. No one could defeat him. He was desperate to get to Elisabeta only because she kept his body from decomposing so rapidly and kept his emotions intact when she was around. She’d been his constant companion and he was used to her company.

Sergey would tell himself all kinds of things, but deep down, he would be panicking, because all the things he could access before, like those slivers of his brothers’ genius, or the high mage’s spells, he could no longer reach. He would know, on some level, that without Elisabeta, he would not have access to the things that would allow him to rule.

Yet even without any of those assets, Sergey was a cunning, cruel master vampire in his own right. He would be a vicious fighter. He had defeated more than one Carpathian hunter in battle. That had nothing to do with Elisabeta. Having skill in battle didn’t necessarily take genius. Sergey was willing to fight when he believed he could win, or when he was fighting for his life. Simply because he wasn’t what he appeared didn’t mean he was going to be easy to defeat in a battle, and it would be foolhardy to dismiss him as so.

There was little moon, just a sliver, and the black clouds moving across the sky hid even that most of the time, so the lake’s water mostly appeared dark and shiny. Out of the oppressive stillness of the woods, Ferro felt a breeze. The draft tugged at the surface of the lake, creating ripples across it so waves lapped at the shore. It looked and even sounded like an idyllic scene, until one felt that ominous decay creeping out of the forest and hovering so close.

The owls and crows made no sound, but continuously walked back and forth on the twisted limbs, peering toward the lake, their gazes suddenly focused in that direction, alerting Ferro and his brethren. Crows were day birds, but they were out in numbers, spies for their master. Shadows appeared darker, staining the surface, as several hideous creatures flew low just above the lake’s waters.

Do not engage. Let us see where their lair is. They must have an entrance nearby, Ferro cautioned.

Ferro doubted if this location had been chosen by Sergey originally. It was more likely one of his brothers who had scouted the area and realized it was perfect to provide them with the hikers and campers for a steady blood supply. They were far enough away from the Carpathian compound that few hunters would stumble across them.

The four ancient hunters stayed a good distance apart, careful not to make any movement that would alert the watchers or the master vampires hurrying back to their lair. Ferro wanted to know how extensive Sergey’s army really was. How many could he count on to throw at the compound? How many would he be willing to sacrifice in order to get Elisabeta back? Would the hunters be able to wipe out the threat in one major attack, or would they have to hit hard in several smaller ones?

More than anything, Ferro wanted to eliminate the threat to his lifemate, but first he needed to have answers to protect all of those in the compound. It was ingrained in him as a hunter that the protection of his people always came first, and no matter what it meant to him personally, the code of honor instilled in him had to be followed.

Three vampires dropped out of the sky near the shore of the lake and strode purposefully toward the forest. They weren’t trying to impress anyone with their looks. They appeared in their real state of decay, rotting flesh stretched over bone, hair mostly gone or falling out in chunks, teeth pointed and stained. At the tree line they separated to about twelve feet apart and lifted their hands high into the air.

Ferro and the brethren watched closely as they wove a complicated pattern, opening an unseen entrance so very well hidden that not one of the ancients had detected its presence. They noted the positioning of the three advance guards. Ferro vaguely recognized the three vampires. They were much younger than he was, but he had run across each of them on more than one occasion while they were still hunters.

The one to his left was from a good lineage. He remembered the father. A great hunter, legendary even. He’d been killed by three master vampires. He’d taken one of them with him before he’d succumbed. His son went by Van Halen. Luther Van Halen.

Sedrick Overtower was in the middle. Ferro didn’t know much about him or his family, but he seemed to be a decent enough hunter.

The one on the right had been sloppy as a hunter, too loud at times, and Ferro was a little surprised that he had managed to survive and battle his way to become a master vampire. It didn’t seem likely given the fact that he should have been killed early on in his hunting career. He had called himself Edward Varga back then. Even now, when he was opening the gates of the lair inside the forest, Varga was a bit sloppy, his movements less precise than the others’. Ferro found it interesting that he had been chosen as one of Sergey’s advance guards. He couldn’t imagine any of the other Malinov brothers tolerating Varga’s ways.

A veil appeared, like a thick spider’s web, a dank, dingy gray color. It hung like Spanish moss might from the twisted branches of the trees, a macabre shawl dripping in poisonous venom. Little beads of darker gray oozed from the web, ran down the strands to trickle onto the ground where they hissed and steamed as they hit the rotting vegetation. The pools spread out into a thin stream, connecting until they formed a moat, a semicircle—a barrier around the opening the vampires had disclosed.

Once the moat was in place, the strands of the web drew back, hissing and moaning as if alive and reluctant to part, the threads reaching toward the vampires, down toward the ground, and up into the trees toward the sentries there. One tentacle managed to wrap itself around a crow and drag it back into the center of the web. The crow screamed horribly, beak opened wide, eyes rolling wildly as the hungry threads began to consume it alive.

The vampires paused what they were doing to watch, clearly amused by the spectacle, enjoying the bird’s pain. Varga’s thin lips stretched wide and he made a squawking sound, imitating the bird’s distressed cry. The other two vampires laughed. Even as they did, the air around them suddenly grew so dense that they began to cough. Varga coughed up blood and spat maggots onto the ground. Some landed in the moat, where the acid fried them instantly.

The three master vampires looked cowed in spite of the fact that they had gone centuries battling and defeating Carpathian hunters, earning the title of master vampire. The three shuddered and turned toward the five vampires striding toward them. Sergey was in the middle, two master vampires on either side of him. Clearly, he wasn’t taking any chances with his own safety. He had left with two master vampires, and somewhere another two had joined him. He had pawns at his disposal and no less than seven master vampires to fight for him. That was serious firepower.

There was fury in every step Sergey took. He had been thwarted in his goal of retrieving Elisabeta. He had no idea why the infection wasn’t spreading or working. The healer wasn’t supposed to be able to stop it. Many of those inside had to have the command in their brain to open the gate, yet no one had done so. By now the ancients should have been turning on one another. Chaos should have been reigning inside the compound. He didn’t understand and he didn’t have Elisabeta.

He had thought he could always contact Elisabeta, that she would be unable to resist coming to him, but she had. The few times they had connected he had felt her terror, but those times had been too few and hadn’t lasted long. He would find a way to get to her, and when he did, she would suffer as she never had before. He was just getting started, pinning humans to the gates. He would surround the compound with the dead and dying in her name. He would stick the heads of children on spikes and put them on the fence facing her, to stare at her with accusing eyes, so she would see them and know she had forced him to go to such lengths.

Snarling, he looked for a target for his impotent rage. Any target. He wanted to kill and keep killing, but cruelly, mercilessly, painfully, the way he had as a boy when his brothers teased him and he felt powerless, just as he did now. He would go into the forest and spend hours ripping apart animals and watching them suffer, looking into their eyes, feeling such immense satisfaction while their blood spilled around him and they silently begged him for death. He wouldn’t give it to them.

Later, he graduated to human children. That had been even more satisfying, especially when he had befriended them first, over time making them believe that he was their friend by bringing them little gifts and even doing chores occasionally. Knowing all the while that sooner or later his brothers would shove him around or make fun of him and he would come back and spend time enjoying torturing his victims. He welcomed the way they tormented him just so he could have the satisfaction of feeling omnipotent when he spent hours with his victims. It was one of the most delicious and powerful rushes in the world. Taking Elisabeta out from under the nose of her family and forcing her to his will each rising kept that feeling in him, especially knowing he hid her from his brothers.

He strode straight up to Luther Van Halen. The master vampire had always thought far too much of himself. He strutted around, his followers loyal to him rather than to Sergey. It wasn’t to be tolerated. And laughing? At him? Because he couldn’t get to Elisabeta? Luther had most likely conspired against him. Luther wanted to lead the others. He was just like Vadim, one of Sergey’s older brothers. He’d been one of Vadim’s trusted lieutenants, although Sergey had no idea what Vadim had seen in the vampire.

Luther stood there impassively as Sergey continued to come at him, no expression on his face. Sergey didn’t slow down, but the fact that Luther stood his ground infuriated him even more. He should be cowering. The other two would have had the good sense to back away, but not Luther. He was always challenging for leadership. Sergey had every right to reprimand him. To let loose his fury on the conspirator.

Without warning he slashed across Luther’s face with the talons of the harpy eagle, ripping through what flesh was left, tearing it from the bone and tossing it carelessly into that writhing, poisonous, starving web. The threads came alive, hissing and fighting for the morsel of flesh. The moment they had a taste, the web wanted more, sending out tentacles in every direction, greedy for even that rotting meat.

Sergey kept slashing, not giving Luther a chance to recover, stepping into him, ripping into his chest, tearing at his belly to get at entrails, slitting the vampire open so that black blood poured onto the ground. The tentacles acted like tubes, dangling from the trees, dipping into the thick gel of shiny black in a frenzied feeding.

The moment the vampire’s blood was spilled, from inside the hole the three master vampires had opened, lesser vampires stumbled out, clearly starved, desperate for blood, any blood, even the acid blood of another vampire. There were ten of them, newly made and fresh from the ground. All had been human males, presumably the psychic males Sergey was using as the pawns he would throw in front of the Carpathian hunters.

The newly made vampires rushed for the pool of black blood the vampire had torn open, knocking into him and driving him into Sergey, who stumbled backward. Luther slammed his fist into Sergey’s chest as the momentum from the starving, eager vampires shoved him forward. His fist buried deep, the long extended claws at least four inches long, he dug for the withered, blackened heart of the master vampire.

Sergey screamed out his fury, raking at Luther’s eyes and neck as he pulled back, closing down his chest with razor-like blades in an effort to chop off his lieutenant’s arm before it could grasp the heart and extract it. The lesser vampires threw themselves on the ground right under the feet of the two combatants, licking at the blood pool, heedless of the danger to them from the reaching tentacles.

The poisonous spider’s web went crazy. It was stretched across several trees, a very effective guardian to the entrance to the underground lair beneath the forest. The long threads swayed and rocked, reaching in every direction, looking for anything unwary enough to get close so they could attach themselves to it and pull it into the center of the web where it could feast.

The tentacles had to be sticky or have suction cups on them because two of the crawling vampires licking frantically at the black blood were gripped, rolled fast and dragged up and into the web where hundreds of threads locked them in place. The feeder tubes jammed into their still-intact flesh and blood spurted, drawing the attention not only of the newly made vampires but of the master vampires as well. The scent of blood permeated the air.

Sergey and Luther narrowly escaped the thrashing threads. Ferro caught sight of Edward Varga backing far away from the fray, answering the puzzle as to how he had survived for so long. He was the same coward, looking after himself and disappearing when he thought he could get away with it. Sergey’s four guards circled cautiously, trying to find a way to get to him without putting themselves in danger of being eaten by the protector of the lair.

Sedrick Overtower hooked one of the hapless newly made vampires, still with red blood in his veins, and pulled him away from the others, dragging him across the ground, heedless of the rocks and debris. He skirted around the combatants, continuing to tow the doomed vampire across the uneven ground and into the trees, away from the opening that led to the lair.

He crouched down, tore into the neck of the starving vampire and began to consume him. Immediately, crows made their way down from the higher branches to hop across the ground, pecking at the kicking, screaming vampire, tearing strips of flesh from the bones. Sedrick didn’t seem to mind sharing the flesh, as long as he was able to drain the last of the blood from the veins.

“You will be still, Luther,” Sergey commanded. “Remove your fist from my chest.”

Ferro heard the gift in the Malinov voice. One of his older Malinov brothers was reputed to be able to command others to do whatever he ordered, not just human but Carpathians and humans alike. Ferro hadn’t believed it. Now, hearing that beguiling note in Sergey’s voice, he could almost believe it was true. Luther didn’t obey, but he hesitated. That was enough to tip the battle in Sergey’s favor and warn all the brethren that Sergey had a few tricks of his own up his sleeve.

Sergey struck hard, ripping Luther’s heart from his chest and tossing it into the air. One of his guards called lightning down and incinerated it. Sergey stepped back and indicated Luther’s falling body. The lightning forked and jumped to the body, burning it as well. Just like that, Sergey seemed in good spirits again, although, watching him, Ferro could see he was tense and not in the least bit at ease the way he wanted the others to think he was.

The moment lightning lit up the night sky, Sedrick was on his feet, abandoning the vampire in the forest to the crows. Varga made his way back quickly to press close, as if he’d been there all along. Sergey kicked at the remaining newly made vampires.

“Get up before I feed you to the puppets, or our guardian.” The web seemed satisfied with the two men it was devouring. Their piercing cries seemed to make Sergey even happier. He did nothing to silence them, although the sound carried across the lake, far into the night.

He kicked viciously at the vampires on the ground and they crawled hastily out of his way before stumbling to their feet. Sergey stood in front of the web, his guards by his side, and waved aside the dangling strands of the web. One master vampire moved up in front of him and another dropped behind him. The other two flanked him on either side.

Ferro could see why the entrance was so large. It had been deliberately made that way so it was safer for the vampires to pass through when their guardian was in a feeding frenzy. He drifted closer, Sandu, Petru and Benedek closing ranks so they were in tight formation, almost on the very heels of the master vampires. They had to time their entry so the vampires wouldn’t feel them, yet be close enough that the guardian wouldn’t, either. They couldn’t stir so much as a drop of air and had to move in perfect sync with the vampires as they entered the lair.

Nothing smelled as bad as a vampire’s lair. When many vampires shared the same lair, the stench was overwhelming, even to the most hardened of Carpathian hunters. They might not feel emotion, but they had a heightened sense of smell. They were predators, and like any predator, their senses were acute, no matter what form they took.

The passage may have started out narrow, but over time it had been widened, and now three grown men could easily walk side by side down the steps hewn out of the dirt and root systems to the floor below. Someone knowledgeable in engineering had designed and fortified the underground fortress. There was a series of smaller rooms to the front that presumably housed victims the vampires kept alive to feed off of for long periods of time.

As they floated past the rooms with the open doors, the brethren could see evidence of captivity, the chains and smears of old blood left behind with echoes of screams still encased in the dirt of the walls and flooring. There were no prisoners, and hadn’t been for some time. Either Sergey hadn’t been using this lair for very long, or he had abandoned the practice of keeping his food alive and close while he worked at retrieving Elisabeta.

The hallway ended abruptly, spilling into a large circular room cut out beneath the forest. The vampires had made an effort to make it comfortable, even somewhat livable, with chairs for the master vampires on a raised dais and more scattered around for the lesser vampires following them. The pawns sat on the floor, not yet worthy of a chair.

Ferro and the others exchanged notes on the master vampires entering the room with Sergey. Two of them were cousins of the Malinov brothers. Cornel and Dorin were often seen with their five cousins when they were young, preferring to stay in the background. They were quiet but skilled hunters, a force to be reckoned with from early on when they hunted vampires. Still, it shouldn’t have been a surprise when they followed their cousins and made the decision to turn. The members of the Malinov family were close and they believed themselves superior to the Dubrinsky family—those who ruled the Carpathian people.

The Astor family had always followed the Malinovs. As children, Georg, Fridrick and Addler had hung around them, and when they were first learning to hunt, they followed the direction of one of the older Malinov brothers. They had all been good hunters, although unlike Cornel and Dorin, the Astors were on the flamboyant side. At times they had gone so far as to act in theaters in various countries, choosing small stages where they could perform, be stars, and then when they had gotten enough accolades to pander to their vanity, they would stalk any critics and drain them of their blood, sometimes killing their families slowly in front of them first. They needed attention constantly, and following someone like Sergey had to be difficult for them. Georg and Fridrick had been killed recently by Tariq and the others in their fight against the vampires, but Addler had survived.

Addler was a smart, colorful vampire, very reminiscent of the man he had once been. Unlike the others, he kept himself looking fairly decent, even though there were no humans to fool. He wore a suit with a purple shirt and black stripes. Ferro could see that his once handsome face would appeal to modern women. He had always been a good hunter, even as a young man, a careful student of the Malinovs, and apparently, he still was.

The fourth master vampire was one who, again, didn’t surprise Ferro all that much. He hadn’t been related to the Astors or the Malinovs but he had grown up with them and, as children, it was reputed that where they were, he was. He was called Ambrus Balog. In Carpathian culture they took names suited to the times and whatever region they lived in. Often they kept their childhood name, given by a parent, for sentimental reasons, but even that could change if it wasn’t suited for the country where they were residing. Ambrus liked his name and continued to use it.

He was a big man and liked intimidating his prey. He’d used his size against other children when he was a boy and still did so as a vampire. It was said he crushed children’s heads in his hands in front of their parents just to hear the elevated heartbeat, the rush of blood in their veins, hoping the heart would explode in their chests. He played with his prey for a long time before finally giving them death. He was a vicious fighter and one to respect in battle.

Ferro, Sandu, Benedek, Petru and Gary exchanged everything they knew of the four men as far as every battle they’d ever heard of or observed them in. They did so without words, simply calling up memories to share in their merged minds. They weren’t taking any chances that a flare of energy would give their presence away before they had the information they needed.

“Vadim’s infection was not effective at all,” Sergey greeted, his voice shaking with fury once again. He glared at Cornel. “Unless you set us up to be killed. They were waiting. An ambush. We were lucky to get away. As it was, we lost all of the idiot fawning pawns.”

Cornel frowned and glanced at his brother. “That doesn’t make any sense, Sergey. The infection had to have spread by now.”

“Well, it didn’t, so you tell me, Cornel, how is it that the infection didn’t spread when you assured me that it would? When you told me the ancients would turn on one another and that the gates would be opened from the inside? How is it that none of that happened?” Sergey demanded and threw himself into a chair.

The few remaining newly made vampires crawled into the room, covered in black shiny blood, and prostrated themselves on the floor. They whined in high-pitched voices, although the sound was more of a whimpering, grating on Ferro’s nerves with his acute hearing. He knew it grated on the other ancients as well. He didn’t see how the master vampires could tolerate such a din in spite of how low the actual sound was. It felt like nails scratching over a chalkboard.

“I have no idea.” Cornel sighed in frustration. “I can’t work from here. I need to be in a location where we have access to the internet. Eventually we’ll be able to trace the hunters. We’ll know their locations when they choose to move around. They have energy fields, and we’ve been working to perfect an algorithm for that.”

Ferro had no idea what that meant, and he doubted if Sergey did, either, although the master vampire cocked his head to one side and nodded as if he did know.

“Who do we have developing that?” Sergey asked, frowning as if he were very interested.

“It was Fridrick, Addler’s older brother, but he was killed when Vadim insisted he try to get those women pregnant,” Dorin answered, his tone slightly disparaging. “He brought the hunters right to us before we were ready.”

“Had you taken over sooner, Sergey,” Addler added, “we would be in a much stronger position.” He casually kicked one of the newly made vampires who had crawled too close. It was a hard kick, delivered with the strength of a master vampire. “Know your place, worm. You don’t ever get near Sergey unless he chooses to acknowledge you.”

The man fell back, shuddering and whining, crawling back to the other newly made vampires. Once human, they had been young college-aged males who had gone to the Morrison Center for psychic testing. The Malinov brothers had conceived a plan to use them as pawns, dangling immortality and the promise of power in front of them. They converted them and then sent them into battle with the experienced Carpathians, using the new vampires as diversions or to wear the hunters down before launching the main attack.

Ferro and the others felt no emotion as they watched them fawning, trying to win favors with the master vampires. The high-pitched whining increased in volume to the point Ferro found it strange he couldn’t turn the sound down. Carpathians could always lower the volume when noises were too loud, yet that screech was persistent and growing louder until he thought he might go mad.

The large room seemed to shudder, the ground rippling as if something alive moved beneath the vampires’ feet. For one moment, the walls in the circular room appeared to do the same, the dirt walls undulating in a slow, uneasy wave, alerting Ferro that there could be things hidden that could be equally as dangerous as the master vampires and the poisonous web they had guarding the front entrance.

Cornel impatiently waved his hand toward the newly made vampires to silence them, annoyed by their continuing noise. The whining broke off abruptly. When it did, the uneasy rippling in the floor and walls ceased as well.

Ferro experienced an unfamiliar sense of relief. A flutter of awareness touched his mind. The merest hint of fragrance pushing out the scent of decay and rot. Bergamot, orange, vetiver, camellias and sandalwood. It was there and then gone as if it had never been, but strangely, it was an alarm, triggering an unease over the rising sound of the newly made vampires. If they didn’t always sound off like that to their masters, why had they continued to do so and increased their volume? There was no answer. He had to be watchful. There were secrets here, and the brethren had risked everything to learn them.

Cornel paced across the floor, his movements so smooth he appeared to glide. “If we had that kid Josef, we would have exactly what we need by now. That idiot prince, Mikhail, has no idea what he has in that kid. They’ll never catch up with you, Sergey. Never. They don’t have your foresight. You’re working without their tools and yet you’re still ahead of them.”

Ferro had to admire Cornel. He didn’t fawn on Sergey. He didn’t apologize or back down even with the implied threat that Cornel might be trying to get Sergey killed. He simply spoke matter-of-factly, stating what he needed and then ending with praise, knowing that was really what Sergey would focus on the most. After centuries of being abused by his brothers, always looking like the buffoon, Sergey craved and demanded respect. He needed those around him to stroke his ego.

The conversation told Ferro a lot about Cornel. He might be content to stay in the background, but he had the streak of brilliance that ran in the Malinov family. He could be a huge threat to the Carpathians. Cornel hadn’t mentioned Elisabeta. Ferro wondered if he was aware she was the real brains behind Sergey’s genius and now that she was gone, Sergey was incapable of leadership without her. Perhaps it was too soon for any of them to have figured that out yet.

Ferro knew Josef was considered very special by Gary, and that was huge praise. At one time Gary had been in the human world and he was a genius with a quick, decisive mind. He knew the ways of modern technology. When he had been converted by Gregori Daratrazanoff, second-in-command to the prince and from a powerful family in the Carpathian lineage, Gary had been presented before the long-dead ancients to be judged worthy of becoming a Carpathian warrior. If accepted, he would be wholly of the Daratrazanoff lineage and all past warriors would pour their battle and healing experience into him, as well as all other knowledge. He would wake a Daratrazanoff but already ancient, without emotion or the ability to see in color.

It would take a man of great strength to handle the terrible burden of such a sudden difference in one’s life. Carpathians lost color and emotion over time. Those things faded, allowing them to get used to it and giving them time to reinforce their desire to uphold honor at all costs. Gary was forced to deal with it almost immediately.

If he said Josef was needed by the Carpathian people, it didn’t matter that the kid had blue spiked hair and piercings, which didn’t offend Ferro in the least. The kid had to be protected. Knowing the vampires had their eyes on him made that even more imperative. Ancients were used to sharing knowledge by acquiring it and simply sending that information to the others. The internet and the use of it seemed useful but not imperative until just that moment when Cornel acted as if Josef was the most important person to focus on acquiring. The implication Ferro was getting was that he was more important even than Elisabeta.

“This Josef you speak of is the boy Traian and his lifemate brought with them to the fortress where they are holding Elisabeta,” Sergey said. There was speculation in his voice. Too much interest.

Cornel nodded. “Yes. It would be good if we could lure them both out from under Tariq’s nose. Or if we can give the infection more time to spread, place our spies so that the command works and the gates are open, we can go in and retrieve both. That way, we can kill as many as possible.” Before Sergey could reply, Cornel turned toward his brother. “Dorin, what of the plan to use our pawns in Tariq’s club? Are they in place? That could be just the thing to bring the hunters out into the open.”

Sergey looked pleased. “A bloodbath in Tariq’s precious nightclub. Feasting on his well-dressed patrons. A great idea.”

“Beneath the main club is the underground club,” Dorin said. “That one is for those who like to play at being creatures of the night. We fit in perfectly there. To test for safety, I have entered numerous times, picked up a lovely woman, left with her and dined deliciously in the lair beneath the city, feasting for days before she succumbed. I had others do the same. It will not be difficult to deal with the cameras and feast right there in the underground club and then go floor by floor. Fear is such a wonderful addiction.”

Sergey sat up much straighter, definitely pleased with the direction of the conversation. He clearly wanted to get back at Tariq for stealing Elisabeta out from under him. “Perhaps this Josef could be lured to the underground club. He’s young. Is there a female we can use? One who would want to sacrifice to save her family? Dorin, if you’ve been to the club, did you meet anyone this Josef might be intrigued with?”

Dorin shrugged, looking bored. “I don’t pay attention to the dating habits of silly little Carpathian teens.”

Cornel hissed his displeasure right before Sergey raised his hand and slammed it toward Dorin, pushing not only air but something unseen and violent that tore open the master vampire’s chest, driving him backward and down off the dais, toward the group of newly made vampires. Lips pulled back to reveal sharp teeth, the vampires slithered forward fast on their bellies, extending claws toward Dorin as he staggered on the uneven surface. The master vampire caught himself and viciously kicked the closest newly made vampire in the head, smashing in his teeth. He whirled around to face Sergey, his chest repairing itself, fury in every line of his body.

Cornel glided between his brother and Sergey, the move smooth and practiced. “We should go to the lair in the city, Sergey, where I can access the computers. I am certain there will be a file on young Josef and his preferences for females. For several years he has been friends with two humans, a male and female.”

“Find them,” Sergey snapped.

Cornel shook his head. “The female has been converted. She is related to several powerful Carpathian families and is the wife of Dimitri. He is both wolf and Carpathian. The male friend is the nephew of Zacarias De La Cruz. He is in South America. It would be better to find his preferences and provide him with the exact girl to meet here. She can lure him out for us.” Cornel kept his voice soothing.

Dorin hesitated, kicked at the newly made vampire on the floor who was already hastily retreating, and then the master vampire made his way back up the dais, putting Ambrus Balog between him and Sergey. Through the entire encounter, Ambrus had been silent, watching for the most part, his red-rimmed eyes on Sergey and then darting around the room, dropping to the floor to find the agitated newly made vampires and then back to Sergey again.

“We need to get Elisabeta,” Sergey snapped. “This boy can be taken anytime, but we need to get her back immediately. If we need to move back to the lair beneath the city in order for you to understand why the infection isn’t working then we should go now, before we lose the night. I want her back next rising. I’ve waited long enough.” There was a distinct threat in his voice.

The vampires on the floor were back to their whining again, the obnoxious high-pitched sound that seemed to shred the insides of Ferro’s ears. Evidently, he wasn’t the only one the noise bothered. Cornel once again lifted a hand to silence them, but Ambrus shook his head.

“No. Wait.”

The dirt floor rose and fell as something alive skittered beneath it. At the same time the walls undulated like a giant snake coiling and uncoiling.

Cornel stepped close to Sergey. “Dorin, lead the way. Sergey, follow him. I will be right behind you. Ambrus, guard the rear. Sedrick and Edward, you stay close behind Ambrus. The others can follow or not. We will be sealing the corridor, so keep up if you want to get out.”

Ferro had no idea what had tipped the newly made vampires off to the ancients’ presence, but whatever it was, the master vampires were fleeing, and if the hunters wanted to engage them in battle, they had to do so immediately.

Dorin didn’t hesitate. He whirled around as Cornel swung his arms into the air and created an opening just behind Sergey’s throne-like chair. Dorin dashed down the narrow corridor followed by Sergey, Cornel almost directly on his heels.

Ferro, Gary and the other ancients started after them, just as Sedrick and Edward leapt forward and the newly made vampires jumped to their feet, attempting to push each other out of the way as they had to go down the narrow hallway single file.