Dark Wolf

10

Fenris Dalka cursed in every language he knew, streaking through the sky, furious that he hadn’t been able to track his younger brother. He was Hän ku pesäk kaikak—Guardian of all, yet he hadn’t kept his brother safe. Dimitri had saved his life on more than one occasion, had fought the rogue pack and the Sange rau valiantly, saved the lives of Lycans and Carpathians alike, and yet he’d been betrayed, held prisoner and tortured.

Fen, we’re close to him and he’s still alive, Tatijana, his lifemate whispered into his mind, trying to soothe him.

Skyler has been murdered. He will either follow her or choose the path of revenge. Should he do that, he will be lost to us for all time—lost to her. This is my fault. I should have taken far more care over the centuries with him, with just how much blood I gave him when he was wounded.

He could smell the Lycans now. The wind brought him the overpowering scent of blood, of war. The Lycans were in pack formation, surrounding prey, most likely his brother and the two men who had aided Skyler in trying to rescue Dimitri.

He was not alone. The four Carpathian warriors who had started out with him to find and rescue Dimitri had been abruptly called back to the Carpathian Mountains. Two others had joined him, and he hadn’t been surprised. Byron Justicano and Vlad Belendrake, Josef’s only family, had come the moment they were aware he was in trouble. Both had been much closer to the area, and once they knew the exact location of Josef they had set out fast to find him. Byron’s lifemate, Antonietta, was blind and his sister, Eleanor, Vlad’s lifemate, had never been in a battle her entire life, so neither had come, although both had apparently argued to do so.

Fen couldn’t blame them. Had Josef been his son or nephew, he would have raced into the fight as well. As they streaked across the sky, he imparted to both men as much as he could about the way a Lycan pack fought, cautioning them about their speed and ability to leap, how they favored weapons and to stay out of their range whenever possible.

Fen, Tatijana tried to be the voice of reason, we have to actually see what’s happening before we go in and start a war.

They tortured my brother after giving us their word that he would be safe. They sentenced him to death. He called out to me when Skyler was lying in his arms, the breath gone from her body, and showed me everything that had taken place.

Fen had considered Zev Hunter his friend. He liked and respected the elite Lycan hunter. They had fought together and were wounded together. He was angry with the Lycans, but it was Zev he felt a cold, dangerous fury at. It mattered little to him that Zev had been the one to cover for his brother or even that he’d given blood when he could see Dimitri was slowly starving. He hadn’t taken him down from those terrible meat hooks made of silver. He’d allowed Dimitri to be tortured.

The truth was, had not Skyler, Josef and Paul set out to rescue Dimitri on their own, his brother would have died. The silver would have found its way to his heart. Skyler, in his opinion, had been magnificent, worthy of being Dimitri’s lifemate, no matter how young she was. Josef, for all his reputation, had earned Fen’s respect. And young Paul, a human, had been courageous. None of them deserved the treatment the Lycans had shown them.

The forest thinned, and through those trees, he saw the clearing. He had no idea how many Lycans surrounded the meadow, but they seemed to be attacking a transparent wall on all four sides, using axes. The blades simply bounced back at them. He could see where Lycans had tried to dig their way under that rippling transparency, and where a few had hacked at the top.

Skyler created that safe haven right in the middle of Lycan territory. There was pride in Tatijana’s voice. In spite of their best efforts, they haven’t been able to get through.

Fen took his time studying the transparent haven. Josef, splotches of red staining his clothes in several places, appeared to be trying to stop the flow of blood from Paul’s wounds. Dimitri’s body lay beside him, seemingly lifeless, but he was bleeding from several wounds. Skyler’s body lay beside his, one hand outstretched toward Paul.

As he watched, Skyler’s body convulsed. His heart jumped. Tatijana, did you see that?

She’s undergoing the conversion. There was excitement in her voice.

Can you feel her life force? She was gone. I couldn’t touch her. I felt the ripple through our connection with all our people, with the prince himself. She was lost to us. Fen saw the body lift up and slam down again, and yet even witnessing it with his own eyes, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. How is this possible?

Tatijana was Dragonseeker, Skyler her kin. She reached through their connection, eager to find the girl alive. She reached and reached, but there was only cold space, empty darkness.

She is too far away for me to touch, she admitted reluctantly. Her body would not be undergoing the conversion if she were dead, Fen. I don’t understand what’s going on here, but Dimitri and Skyler have such a powerful connection, perhaps he was able to find her when no other could.

Fen knew they didn’t have a lot of time before the Lycans detected the Carpathians. They would feel energy coming at them—although not Fen’s. He was of mixed blood, condemned by them, but they weren’t aware of it. As far as they all knew, he was Lycan, one of them. They had no knowledge that he was Dimitri’s brother, and that would get him close to Zev.

No. No, Fen. You can’t throw away your life, our lives on revenge. We don’t yet know if Skyler is dead . . .

You cannot feel her and she’s your own kin. The prince cannot feel her and he is the vessel for all our people. He would know if her life force was gone. Even while he argued with her, his gaze searched relentlessly for Zev in the pack of frenzied wolves trying to tear down Skyler’s safe haven and get at the four people inside to finish what they’d started.

Skyler’s body had settled again. Around Dimitri and Skyler the earth seemed to sink so that their bodies were partially in the soil. He could see that someone had pushed rich, black loam into Skyler’s wounds. Even as he watched, Josef turned away from Paul and dragged himself over to Dimitri.

Watching the boy’s determination and his selfless act of courage, Fen’s heart swelled with pride. Josef might be young, but he was a Carpathian warrior through and through. He could have gone to ground to heal his own wounds. No one would have blamed him. He was clearly severely wounded, but he had taken care of his friend and now turned to try to aid Dimitri.

Relief poured into him. Dimitri wasn’t dead or Josef wouldn’t be bothering. If Dimitri hadn’t gone to ground in an effort to heal himself, he must have a good reason, and the only good reason would be to try to save his lifemate’s life.

From his position, he couldn’t get a good look at his brother, but Josef worked diligently. Fen saw the exact moment when the boy shed his body and went into Dimitri’s.

He’s adept at healing, Tatijana said. Did you have any idea he could do that? she asked Vlad, Josef’s adopted father.

Vlad and Byron exchanged a long look. Vlad shook his head. He continually surprises us. The boy is . . . different. He follows his own path. I’m not surprised, however, to see him with Skyler or Paul. They’re very close.

Fen signaled the others to stay where they were, while he allowed the wind to take him closer. The Lycans couldn’t sense his energy and they would never know he was there. He shifted into the form of vapor, sending small fingers drifting out of the trees toward the clearing. He drifted with them. He wanted to get a good look at the occupants of the safe haven and a number count on the Lycans.

Fighting a Lycan pack was ludicrous with only three men. They would have to pick them off, one at a time. Tatijana’s dragon could unleash the fires of hell on them right there in the clearing, and he contemplated whether or not that would be the best move to make, just to drive them back. He and the others could gain access to the haven and help the wounded.

He was directly over the transparent force field. No matter how hard the Lycans hacked and chopped at the shield, not a single scratch appeared that he could see. How could it be so strong to withstand such an assault, especially when Skyler lay nearly dead—or dead?

He dropped lower, forcing himself to be patient, to allow the wind to take him naturally. He caught Skyler’s scent. Dragonseeker blood. Mage blood. She had used her own blood to build this safe place for the others. Her very essence was woven into the spell. He even smelled the scent of potent, rich soil. Daughter of the earth.

If he could catch her scent, so could the Lycans. They would know Skyler had been the one powerful enough to create such a fortress they could not enter. She had been the one to rescue Dimitri and find a way for them all to flee, avoiding the Lycans until they were nearly to safety. They wouldn’t understand the kind of power she had—and that would make her suspect in their eyes. The Sange rau was hated and feared. Skyler very well could have just put herself in the same category with that condemned abomination.

Fen allowed himself to drift to the roof to peer down at Dimitri and Skyler. His heart nearly stuttered to a halt. He barely recognized his brother. Dimitri had always been extraordinarily handsome, tall, broad-shouldered and muscular. Blackened swirls of linked chain were now burned into the flesh of his forehead and over his entire body. He looked emaciated, his skin gray between the burned circles covering his body. His clothes, always elegant, were shredded, in tatters. Bright red splotches soaked into what was left of his shirt and trousers, and into the ground beneath him.

Josef valiantly fought to stem the blood, but clearly his focus was on pushing silver liquid from Dimitri’s body through the pores. Everywhere the silver had touched Dimitri’s skin were burn marks and blisters.

Fen found himself cursing again. He was furious that the Lycans had tortured Dimitri. Torture was so uncivilized, and yet the wolves were supposed to be far more civilized than Carpathians. They had integrated into human society and, in spite of their longevity and predatory instincts, had become quite adept at hiding their identities’ from other species.

You lived among the Lycans for this last century and even at times before that, Tatijana said. Does this seem like normal behavior to you?

Fen had too many years as a vampire hunter, too many years existing in the endless, emotionless void not to be able to call upon self-discipline when he needed it. Tatijana’s comment struck a chord with him. He had never seen Lycans armed in the way these were, or so many. They did look more of a military force than an organized pack.

He pulled his gaze away from his brother’s burned body and began to assess the Lycans surrounding the haven Skyler had constructed. At first glance, every wolf seemed to be trying to tear down the walls, but after a few moments of study, he realized there were three factions. The first—and they appeared to be the strongest and most numerous—were the aggressive, determined Lycans actively using weapons and instruments to get at the four wounded inside.

He recognized Gunnolf and Convel in the front, driving the others to greater effort. He sent a silent snarl their way. Dimitri had virtually risked his life to save theirs and they had repaid him with betrayal and torture. They would not live out the night if Fen had anything to say about it.

We need to get inside in order to help them, Tatijana reminded. I will shift to my dragon. Vlad and Byron will follow suit. We can drive them back from this fortress that Skyler has created and get inside. Our blood very well may be what turns the tide.

Fen couldn’t argue with her. Dimitri definitely was in starvation mode. He had no idea if Skyler was dead or hanging on by a thread, but his mixed blood and Tatijana’s ancient blood would definitely help.

Give me another minute here. I have to figure out what’s going on.

Something wasn’t right. The second faction appeared to be arguing with the first, trying to stop them, separating themselves from the frenzied activities of the first group. There was a conflict, a definite division between the Lycans. He spotted Zev in the second group, clearly furious, throwing Lycans to the ground as he waded toward Gunnolf and Convel.

The third group of Lycans seemed uncertain. They were the smallest in number, and they didn’t want to join either side, confused about what they should be doing. Where was the decisive leadership always present in a pack? In all the centuries Fen had been around the Lycans, the alpha always called the shots and settled all differences—there was a clear hierarchy. Yet this enormous pack seemed fragmented, a huge schism dividing them.

He had begun to return to the others, ready to call in the dragons to burn the hell out of the Lycans, when he heard a roar that sent chills up his spine and stopped every Lycan in their tracks. Below him, Zev rushed at Gunnolf in his Lycan form, accepting the challenge for leadership.

Lycans fought for supremacy bare-handed. They didn’t kill one another as a rule. It happened in the heat of battle, but very rarely. Gunnolf swung around to meet Zev, lunging forward, but not before Fen saw the signal he gave to Convel.

The Lycans formed a circle around the two combatants, abandoning their efforts to enter the haven harboring the four escapees.

Convel inched his way around behind Zev, his hand on his sword. Fen made his decision. He’d been angry with Zev, certain the Lycan had betrayed them all, yet Zev clearly was trying to stop the assault on those already wounded.

Fen made the decision to trust him. They had fought together in battles before and Fen wasn’t about to let him get cut down from behind. As far as they all knew, Fenris was Lycan.

If you get the chance, if the distraction is enough, the three of you slip inside and help the others. I’m going to remain on the outside and do what I can to figure out what is happening. I still believe there is someone at work, someone behind this trying to start a war between Lycan and Carpathian.

Whoever it was, if such a person existed, was very close to their goal. Fen came striding out of the forest, moving fast, a graceful flow of muscle and sinew, dressed in trousers with a belt holding an array of weapons, his boots with loops inside holding silver stakes as well as two knives, and his long coat concealing even more weapons. His long hair was pulled back severely from his face, flowing down his back, caught at the nape with a cord wrapped around the length to keep it from getting caught on anything as he fought.

He came up behind Convel just as the Lycan drew his sword and made his slash at Zev’s unprotected back. Fen’s sword seemed to come out of nowhere, parrying the blow and following it around in a semicircle, sparks showering down in the night. A collective gasp went through the Lycan ranks at such treachery. Even those Gunnolf led seemed to be shocked.

Zev threw Gunnolf off of him, following up his advantage, leaping onto the Lycan and driving him to the ground with such enormous strength the ground shook. Zev spared one quick glance behind him to see Fen and Convel battling with swords.

Tatijana, Vlad and Byron took advantage of the moment when all the Lycans were occupied watching the four combatants. Energy was flashing through the clearing almost as bright as the two swords clashing. The ring of metal against metal was loud in the stillness.

Gunnolf rolled free and leapt to his feet, gasping for air. He tore his shirt away, showing a mouthful of teeth as he circled Zev. Twice he wiped the blood from his muzzle and licked it from his claw-tipped hands.

“You disobeyed the council,” Zev accused, loud enough for all Lycans to hear. “You went directly against their orders. You lied to us all, and you put the lives of the council members in jeopardy along with those of everyone here.”

Gunnolf charged, rushing Zev. At the last moment, his clawed hands returned to those of a man’s, enabling him to pull a silver dagger from his belt and slice viciously across Zev’s arm. Blood sprayed over the treacherous Lycan. Zev let out a string of curse words, leaping back away from the man who had followed him for so many years—a man who had been his friend. No Lycan ever drew silver on another—not unless they were rogue. Another collective gasp went up in the Lycan circle.

Fen had his hands full keeping Convel from working his way around him in order to take a slice at Zev. He was faster and stronger than the Lycan, but he couldn’t accidently give himself away as a mixed blood. He had to toe a fine line, fighting just well enough to appear nearly evenly matched.

“Clearly you’re supposed to kill your alpha,” Fen said, in a mild, but carrying voice. He wanted the other Lycans to be aware of the true nature of both challengers. “You and Gunnolf obviously planned to kill Zev during your raid on wounded people. Was that the true goal? Getting rid of the man who had the true ear of the council?”

Convel drove at him hard and fast with his sword, moving easily over the uneven ground, clearly an accomplished swordsman. To be an elite hunter he would have to be. He had confidence. He had experience, and he expected to cut Fen down quickly.

Gunnolf grinned at Zev, once again licking at the drops of blood catching in the fur along the back of his hand and arm. “Your time is over.”

“You don’t have the brains to come up with this plot on your own,” Zev said. He ignored the wide slice on his arm, although blood was pouring from the wound. “Who gave the order for Dimitri to be sentenced to the Moarta de argint?”

“Dimitri,” Gunnolf snarled. He spat on the ground in disgust, circling Zev, looking for an opening for the attack. “You mean the Sange rau? Why do you champion him? I have noticed you have become very friendly with Carpathians. Is it possible you are mixed blood and you seek to save your own kind?”

Another collective gasp went up, and the Lycans closest to the two combatants moved back, putting distance between them and a possible Sange rau.

Zev shrugged his shoulders, his gaze fixed on his opponent. “You have betrayed our council, Gunnolf. You put them all in jeopardy. You’ve disobeyed nearly every law we have. Even now, you do not fight fair, challenging me for leadership, yet not following the rules of the pack. Calling me a hated and feared name seems a desperate tactic. If that’s all you have left, put down your weapons and allow me to take you into custody.”

“There is no fairness when fighting a Sange rau,” Gunnolf countered. “We kill them—exterminate them where we find them.”

He rushed Zev again, feinting to his right and then striking left, the dagger still gripped in his hand. Zev was ready this time, avoiding the razor-sharp blade and catching Gunnolf’s wrist in his unbreakable grip, bending it back and away from Gunnolf so that the wolf fell to the ground. Zev retained possession of the wrist, extracting the dagger and tossing it away.

Gunnolf rolled, howling as an audible snap signaled that his wrist was broken. He kicked out at Zev, driving him back just enough to leap back to his feet. The two bodies came together with a loud crash.

Fen parried Convel’s sword, over and over, but never once gave ground, guarding Zev’s back from the Lycan determined to cut his pack leader from behind. The swordplay was fast and ferocious. Convel tried to drive Fen from his position, but Fen fought him back, increasing the strength of each cut minutely, ratcheting up the speed so skillfully that at first Convel didn’t notice the difference.

Convel obviously recognized that Fen was every bit as skilled as he was with a sword. His expression changed from pure confidence to anger and then desperation. He was now on the defensive, frantically meeting each cut of Fen’s sword. His movements were just that little bit too slow. His footwork began to suffer as time after time the heavy metal jarred his arms and sent shockwaves through his entire body.

He tried to retreat, but the blows kept coming relentlessly, so hard, so fast, he couldn’t begin to keep up with Fen.

“Throw your sword down,” Fen advised. “And face the council.”

Convel couldn’t if he wanted to. His grip was so tight, adrenaline and fear gluing his fingers to the hilt. Fen feinted toward him and triumph burst through the Lycan. At last, Fen had made a terrible mistake. He thrust hard straight at his opponent’s body, putting everything he had into that attack, determined to kill him.

Fen wasn’t there, he’d glided to the other side, and Convel never saw the sword coming at him. He heard it, that betraying whisper as the sword, seemingly alive, cut through the air straight at him. He felt the energy, so aggressive and deadly, rushing toward him. The blade was so sharp he actually didn’t feel the cut as it sliced through flesh and bone. He was dead before he hit the ground, his sword slipping through lifeless fingers.

Dimitri, this is one of your enemies gone, Fen whispered into his brother’s mind.

He took the opportunity to glance into the haven Skyler had created there in the meadow. Tatijana was inside.

Do they live? he asked his lifemate.

Tatijana smoothed back Dimitri’s hair from his forehead. She had never seen a body so torn and battered, not even in the ice caves of her father’s torture chamber. The burns were deep and vicious. Healing the wounds, if even possible, would take time.

He is fighting to save her. Take care of business out there, and I’ll see to the wounded.

She didn’t tell him what she suspected—that Dimitri had possessed Skyler’s body and was undergoing the conversion with her. The idea was distasteful and wrong. No one should ever possess another’s body. For her especially, and for Skyler herself, it was such a crime, an abomination.

Tatijana’s father, Xavier, had made a practice of possessing his son’s body, seducing women and getting them pregnant. He wanted Carpathian blood for immortality. Skyler had been born of such an unholy unity. Possession was taboo in any species. Her stomach churned, but she forced herself to get past her aversion and examine Skyler’s body.

She’d been shot multiple times. Someone had packed rich loam in the wounds in anticipation of her conversion. She sent herself outside her own body to become pure healing spirit. Entering Skyler’s body confirmed her worst fears, Skyler was not alone; if anything, there was more Dimitri than Skyler.

The idea was so repugnant to her that Tatijana found herself back in her own body, thrown there by a force outside herself.

“What is it?” Byron asked. “Is she dead?”

Tatijana took a deep breath. She felt oily, dirty even. Wrong. “I don’t know. How’s Josef doing?”

Josef lifted a hand and waved at her, still feeding from his uncle’s wrist.

Vlad smoothed a hand over Josef’s blue-tipped spiky hair. “He’ll be fine once he’s in the ground,” he assured.

Josef closed the pinpricks on Byron’s wrist and looked from one man to the other. Twice he opened his mouth and closed it, blinking rapidly. “You came,” was all he managed to get out, choking a little and turning his face away.

“Of course we came,” Vlad said. “You’re my son, Josef. Our world. Our pride and joy. How could you ever think we wouldn’t come?”

Tears burned in Josef’s eyes and he quickly averted his eyes. “I’m different. I give you a lot of trouble.”

Byron laughed. “You’re supposed to give us trouble. You keep us from being old men.”

“Eleanor and I have always been proud of your ability to do things most of us can’t do,” Vlad said. “I had to handcuff her to the bedpost to keep her from coming,” he added.

Josef laughed, but even that familiar sound was a little watery and choked. “That’s just wrong, Vlad. I’m going to tell her you said that.”

Byron slung his arm around the boy’s shoulders. “You kept them all alive, Josef.”

Josef shook his head, looking down at Skyler’s body. Another ripple of pain across her face signaled a convulsion coming. “I don’t know if I did. She’s . . . gone.”

Vlad shook his head. “Dimitri’s fighting for her. He’s a powerful ancient.”

Tatijana pressed her lips together tightly. Her eyes met Josef’s across the two bodies. He knew. He knew exactly what Dimitri was doing. Her brother-kin must not have had any other choice. It was a desperate move, and one few would try.

She took another deep breath as Skyler’s body convulsed, pushing the last of the toxins from her system. Dimitri lay lifeless beside her, but his fingers were tightly threaded through Skyler’s. They both looked so battered and far gone from the world. Tears welled up. She pressed a hand to her mouth, pushing back a sob of despair. How could either survive?

She sat quietly beside the two bodies, undecided how best to help. She couldn’t attempt to heal Skyler as long as her body continued to go through the conversion. Dimitri’s spirit was gone from his body, but he was definitely alive, and more than anyone else, his body had taken a terrible beating.

With each convulsion that shook Skyler’s body, the earth beneath her trembled slightly and the two bodies sank a little deeper into the soil. She judged the movements were no more than a quarter of an inch each time, but the numbers were beginning to add up. Soil trickled from the edges of the sinking hole, pushing against the two bodies, working its way up their hips and legs in an effort to blanket them.

Tatijana wasn’t altogether surprised that Mother Earth was aware of Skyler’s plight and had reached out in the only way she could to try to aid her daughter and son. She couldn’t help herself, so she brushed her hand soothingly over Skyler’s hair, pushing the strands from her forehead.

“Hang on, little sister,” she whispered aloud. “Stay with him. Trust him to keep you safe.” It was all she could think to say. Dimitri had gone to great lengths to ensure Skyler didn’t die this night.

Skyler’s eyes suddenly opened as her body quieted. Tatijana felt a chill go down her spine. Both Skyler and Dimitri stared back at her, glacier-blue eyes swirling with color, sending an eerie, creepy feeling through her entire body.

“If you can hear me, we’re with you now,” she whispered. “I go now to heal Dimitri’s body as best I can. When he is successful and your body has finished the conversion, I’ll do my best to heal you as well, although Mother Earth is already standing in line to do just that.”

Tatijana sent her spirit seeking outside her own body and into Dimitri’s. She could see where Josef had made his attempt to push the silver from the Guardian’s body. He’d done a fairly good job for one so young and inexperienced. She made a mental note to herself to watch the boy. He had a gift to be able to accomplish so much when he was untrained.

There were traces of silver burning long thin lines along the bones, as if that precious metal had attached itself where it could hurt the most as well as do the most damage. Meticulously, taking her time when everything in her wanted to move fast, she began to work.

Tatijana, my brother? He has not moved. A conversion does not take this long.

Fen’s anxiety crept into her mind in spite of focusing completely on her task. Be patient, wolf man, she said. I’m healing Dimitri’s body and I need to concentrate.

Fen let out his breath. He should have known not to disturb her. He couldn’t keep risking glances through the transparent wall when the Lycans’ attention was so focused on the life or death battle between Gunnolf and Zev.

Convel’s body lay at his feet, cut in two by the precise silver sword. His task wasn’t finished, it rarely was, unless you knew how to kill a Lycan. Their bodies could regenerate given the opportunity. He slammed home a silver stake, driving it through the Lycan’s heart, and then severed the head.

Fen stared down at the body for a moment before wiping the blood from his blade on the traitor’s shirt and then replacing the sword back in the scabbard. Lycans moved out of his way as he strode through the thick circle to the inside where he could keep an eye out for others who thought to aid Gunnolf.

There had to be more of them—supporters of Gunnolf’s rebellion. Gunnolf would never have made his move against Zev unless he thought he had the advantage. If Zev was right, and Gunnolf had deliberately gone against the word of the council, then he had done so with enough followers right here in this camp to challenge Zev’s authority.

Two Lycans caught Fen’s eye. They would have blended with the large crowd but for the fact that their movements seemed furtive while everyone else shouted encouragement to Zev or Gunnolf, all fully focused on the fight. Those shouting encouragement to Gunnolf growled warningly at any of the Lycans who grumbled about Gunnolf’s methods.

It had gotten very brutal as fights between Lycans often did. Both men were bloody, shirts stripped off, muscles streaked with lacerations and dirt. Gunnolf’s left eye was nearly closed and he favored his left side, as if protecting a cracked rib. His wrist was broken for certain, although he used the hand, tough enough to get past pain.

The slice that had opened Zev’s arm worried Fen. It was bleeding too much, as if Gunnolf might have treated the blade on the dagger with an anticoagulant. Fen sniffed the air, allowing his mixed blood senses to flare out into the night. The scent of blood was strong. So was fear and treachery. And yes . . . there it was . . . that faint odor confirming his belief that Gunnolf had rigged even his blades against his opponent. There was no doubt that Gunnolf had come prepared to kill Zev.

Once again he started to move, making his way through the crowds of Lycans to intercept the two who were acting so shifty. One, a darker wolf with a square muzzle, pushed his way through the other Lycans, skirting around again and again, in order to come up behind Zev. The other was much stealthier, and he moved away from the Lycans. Away from the combatants.

Fen swore under his breath. He had to choose one of them to stay on, he couldn’t guard both. Get it over already, Zev, he snapped through gritted teeth. They had established a line of communication through Tatijana’s sister, Branislava. He followed that path now, trying to push his warning into Zev’s mind.

I’m a little busy here, Fen.

The ability to communicate gave them a bit of an advantage the other side wouldn’t see coming. Gunnolf couldn’t violate the code of Lycans without angering and bringing about retaliation from the Lycans not yet joined with him. If he succeeded in defeating Zev, he would be the top alpha over the pack and the others wouldn’t question his authority—his methods maybe—but not his authority.

You look like you’re playing with the bastard. Get it done. You’ve got about a hundred others waiting to kill you. Big oaf, dark fur, square jaw, working his way behind you.

Take care of it. I’ve got my hands full with this one. He isn’t the ringleader and I’d like to find a way to extract the information from him without his knowledge.

Kill him and keep his head intact. I’ll see what information I can get out of him. Fen kept his attention on the Lycan slipping away from the crowd and heading toward the edge of the forest.

That’s a dangerous practice. Zev caught Gunnolf and threw him to one side as the Lycan attacked, snarling, raging, beginning to lose control.

Zev moved with fluid grace, a ballet of lethal intent. He seemed not to move his feet, yet he was everywhere, flowing around Gunnolf, striking with punches, kicks and openhanded slaps. The fight was brutal, but the alpha managed to make it look more like a dance or a martial arts exhibition, than a fight to the death.

There’s a second threat, moving into the forest. I believe he has a sniper rifle on him. I’m just guessing here, but someone wants you dead. Don’t cut off Gunnolf’s head until I can get back.

Sniper rifle?

Fen heard the shock in Zev’s voice, even felt it in his mind. The elite hunter had told himself Gunnolf and Convel wanted to take over the pack for power. Perhaps in the back of his mind he believed the two had gone rogue and were recruiting followers, but a sniper rifle was a serious threat—one that smacked of a larger conspiracy.

Fen was on the move, fast, fading into the crowd but making his way quickly to the nearest point of the tree line. At the edge of the clearing there were fewer Lycans, and the stealthy one climbing the tree might be able to spot him. He blurred his image just enough to make it into the forest without detection.

There was always a fine line to walk when he was around the Lycans, but he’d been doing it for centuries and had a lot of practice. He couldn’t use the speed or senses of his mixed blood or his abilities as a Carpathian in front of them. At all times they had to believe he was fully Lycan. At times like this he felt handicapped.

He glanced at the sky, pulling in the storm clouds, building them fast so that they rose into the air like dark towers. Thunder rumbled in the distance and lightning veined the darker clouds. Sinking deeper into the trees, and using the darker sky as a cover, he streaked to the bottom of the tree he had seen the Lycan climb.

Knowing he was hidden from view and his mixed blood hid his energy from the Lycans, he shifted, going to pure vapor, racing up through the branches until he was behind the Lycan. This one had military training. He set up his rifle and scope with meticulous care. He’d tied a bit of cloth to an outside branch across the clearing to get a feel for the wind. Already he had his eye to the scope.

Fen abruptly commanded the wind, sending a capricious blast that sent the little flag in all directions. The Lycan lifted his head and waited. He had the patience of a marksman, Fen noted, his gut tightening.

From his vantage point in the tree, Fen got a better look at what was happening in the clearing. The Lycans were no longer paying any attention to the Carpathians trapped inside the safety structure. They barely glanced at the dead Lycan whose head remained separated from his body so close to the edge of the ring. The Lycans surrounded the two combatants, and they had gone wild. Fen had seen the behavior before, a frenzied madness that swept through a pack during a challenge for leadership.

Gunnolf and Convel had counted on that trait in their fellow wolves. The animal came out when they were in combat with one another, especially during a challenge. Few thought clearly. They cheered and yelled and paced back and forth, their adrenaline and untamed nature taking over their more civilized half.

Fen could see the recruits to Gunnolf’s army surrounding the others, a subtle move that no one would notice inside that circle. They shifted from one spot to another, closing ranks so that Zev’s supporters were entirely ringed. A massacre? Or did Gunnolf believe that if he defeated Zev by any means, the pack would accept him?

We’re in trouble, Zev. He’s got an army surrounding your fighters, Fen announced.