Dark Blood (34 page)

Zev sank back on his heels, avoiding any contact with Arno.

She passed her hand over the stake, careful not to get too close. “Yes, he’s added some kind of spell to the stake. The cord is definitely rigged as well and looks as if I’ll have the most trouble with it.”

She took a deep breath and stood up, glancing over her shoulder at the three women watching. They nodded to her, prepared to help her.

“What happens if I sever the head and we just walk away from this?” Zev asked. “That’s what you wanted in the first place. I can see your reasoning.”

“I have no doubt that he made that impossible as well. He’s driving us toward Arno’s brain and his memories.”

“We already know his intent now, Branka. Why continue? We can burn the body.”

A small sound escaped from Branislava’s sister. Clearly burning the body wasn’t a good idea. There were few things that made him lose his temper, but feeling helpless was one of them. He couldn’t stand in front of his lifemate and protect her when he didn’t know how. This kind of mage magic was out of his realm of experience.

“Just do what you have to do, Branka, and let’s get this over with.”

Branislava cast her protection circle and then stood for a long moment gathering her courage. Facing Xaviero was becoming easier. She had been so terrified of him, but each time she was successful in destroying his work, she realized how much she really did know. Her education had been complete.

The three brothers had all worked in the laboratory, learning and perfecting skills over and over. There hadn’t been a spell, from the smallest to the most dangerous, that she hadn’t seen and committed to memory. She had nothing else to keep her mind occupied in those long years of captivity.
The three High Mages didn’t know more than she knew
.

She concentrated on the tattoo first. The dark death spell was woven carefully within the tattoo itself. She knew Xaviero well enough to know he would find it amusing to weave such a deviant spell into what was considered a sacred symbol. Had Zev not recognized that there was that tiny difference, the High Mage would have had his entertainment for the evening.

That which is marked, drawn in black,

I call forth your energy to send you back,

Twist and turn, swirl that burn,

I draw forth your power, which now I return.

Branislava watched the runes slowly disappear from the tattoo. She took a deep, cleansing breath and let it out. “Really study the tattoo, Zev, make certain there isn’t anything else hidden.”

Zev took his time, looking at the tattoo he’d seen a thousand times on various people. The pool of blood prevented him from getting too close, but eventually he nodded. “It looks like it’s supposed to, Branka.”

“The stake is filled with power. I can feel it, much like an explosive. It’s a simple enough spell designed to kill as many people as possible.” The memory of Xavier placing the spell in objects and then sending in his apprentice to retrieve the article for him rose like a nightmare. Both Tatijana and she had tried to warn the various unsuspecting young mages. They had never succeeded and had watched the apprentices die when the spell was triggered.

That which is silver, born of fire,

I call back your essence, drawing back your power.

As fire burns, so water cools,

I call to water, release evil’s hold.

She passed her hand over the part of the stake protruding from Arno’s chest. The sensation of dark power was no longer there. She nodded slowly. Her mouth had gone dry. The cord was an altogether different proposition. She was certain there was a spell on the woven strands, but she wasn’t yet certain how to counteract it. She needed to reveal it first.

That which is woven,

Reveal to me,

That which is evil,

So I may see.

At once she could see that the cord held life. One wrong movement and the cord would attack. She swallowed hard and once again traced symbols in the air while she murmured her counterspell.

That which would do harm,

I dispel your power.

I take what was woven, so these threads have no power,

As you were woven, so now I unweave,

Each particle I harvest so no death may there be.

Branislava dropped her arms to her sides and forced air through her lungs. She spent the next few minutes making certain there were no more traps hidden around or under Arno’s body. She cleansed the blood and then sank down to the floor beside Zev.

“I believe we actually did it,” she said, relief in her voice. She brushed her cheek against his shoulder. “I think we can look at his last memories.”

“I’ll do it,” Zev said. There was distaste in his voice. The idea of desecrating the council member by invading his private thoughts didn’t sit well. Still, it had to be done.

“You can see his memories that way,” Branislava agreed, “but it’s dangerous. We can go into his mind and see them the Carpathian way and perhaps, if we’re lucky, we’ll see more of Xaviero than Arno remembers. People pick up details without knowing it. We can find them when he wasn’t aware. The circle will protect our bodies, and the others can watch over us. It’s safe for them to enter now.”

Zev wasn’t as used to the Carpathian ways, but he was willing to follow Branislava’s lead when it came to mage magic. He nodded.

Branislava didn’t wait, afraid she might lose her newfound courage and confidence. She shed her body and became pure spirit, entering the council member’s mind. The moment she did, she knew she had made a terrible mistake. Xaviero’s splinter shadow waited, crouched like a dark demon in the night. He attacked triumphantly, catching at her spirit with claws and teeth, and dragging her through the portal to the other realm.

Z
ev!
Branislava reached for her lifemate as she was drawn into that icy cold realm of the half-life.

Zev recognized the tree. He’d been there before with Branislava when he’d nearly died. She had held him to her. Now it was an altogether different fight. This was his kind of fight.

They need me alive. They won’t kill me. They’re counting on the fact that no one will find me.

My spirit is woven to yours. We travel together.
He used his calmest voice, steadying her. More than anything, Branislava hated the cold. She felt alone and isolated, that child forced into a dragon’s form and placed behind a wall of ice.

Focus on the thing holding you prisoner. He’s obviously taking you to Xavier. We have to stop him. What is it?
He suspected it was nothing more than a small sliver of Xaviero, a shadow that he’d left behind to capture Branislava or him.

He felt her shiver, and then the woman he knew so well came forth, a warrior of old. She stopped shivering and he felt the steel running through her.

Xaviero left a tiny piece of himself behind.

He could see that the shadow was delighting in ripping at her spirit, tiny holes, to wear her out and make her more vulnerable to Xavier’s possession. There was no doubt in either of their minds that Xaviero’s shadow was taking her spirit to his brother.

Xaviero had no idea that Branislava wasn’t alone. He hadn’t yet detected the weave binding Zev’s spirit to Branislava’s.

If he can gleefully tear holes into your spirit, this shadow thing can be destroyed, right?

The sliver of Xaviero is far too small to do more than what it was programmed to do—give Xavier the spirit he needs to return to the land of the living. Xaviero wasn’t about to give away too much of himself even to get Xavier back,
she replied.

Zev could hear and feel pain creeping into her. The capacity for cruelty in Xaviero amazed him. Even the little sliver of Xaviero
had
to torment.

Zev studied the shadow from every direction. The claws dug into Branislava and the demon fought with her, attempting to drag her down the tree trunk to the icy cold below. He could feel greedy eyes on them. He heard teeth gnashing. Moans. Wailing. Branislava refused to go easily, pitting her strength against the demon—and her spirit was strong.

Fen, Dimitri, I need a massive storm. Lightning that is supercharged. Build it for me fast and let me know when the lightning is forming its peak.

Neither man questioned him, nor did they respond verbally, but he felt their immediate acquiescence.

Catch the next branch, Branka. Hang yourself up on it.

She did as he said, reaching with her light to wrap firmly around the branch. Below, he heard an ominous rustle as something began to drag itself up the tree trunk out of the icy dark. Xavier was coming to claim his prize.

Zev was both Carpathian and Lycan—mixed blood—impossible to detect, even for a mage. His energy was completely muted. Neither Xavier or the splinter of Xaviero knew Branislava wasn’t alone, and that was their advantage. Before Xavier reached them, something had to be done fast.

Zev felt the storm even deep as he was in the other realm. The air above and below him suddenly charged with a current of pure electricity. Xavier seemed to know something wasn’t right, redoubling his efforts to get to the spirit trapped in the other realm.

The storm is massive and lightning is directly overhead,
Fen informed Zev.

Zev held tighter to Branislava as she fought to stay on the branch.
Say the words we need. Words of war. My kind of war. Physical. Now, Branka.
Xavier was close, too close. He could feel him now, the slime of evil that reached them before Xavier’s malevolent spirit.

Branislava gasped in his mind. She hadn’t considered that they might reveal a physical particle, but once Zev gave her the idea, she caught on quickly.

That which was shadow,

Now must take on form.

From gray existence,

A body be born.

Branislava delivered the words in her most powerful voice, projecting through the light to the dark slice of the mage. The splinter demon stiffened, clearly suspicious of her audacity. His dark shadow wavered and suddenly shifted from wraithlike to substance.

Zev struck hard, calling down the lightning so that it ran down the tree fast, seeking a target. He wrapped himself around Branislava to protect her. It was his first time calling down the lightning, but he was a warrior through and through and his aim was absolutely accurate. The bolt hit the sliver of Xaviero squarely through the center of the particle. The particle turned black, curled and then turned to ash. It floated away, while the odor of rotten eggs lingered in the air behind it.

Zev redirected the lightning down the trunk of the tree in the hopes of destroying Xavier once and for all. He heard a scream of pain, of anger, of absolute hatred. The sound vibrated through their spirits, jarring them both. Zev kept his spirit wrapped tightly around Branislava’s, fairly certain Xavier would retaliate if at all possible.

The bolt must have scored a hit, although he’d directed it blindly, by sound alone. The voice continued to screech. It took a moment to realize Xavier was incoherent, but trying to hit back with a spell.

Zev drew Branislava up the tree to the thicker branches closer to the top, moving fast, whipping around to the other side of the trunk. The blast shook the tree, but hit branches a good distance from them. The branches exploded, splintering, and then coming back together. The tree trembled and then began to shake.

It’s angry. It wants us to leave now,
Branislava whispered into his mind.
The only reason it isn’t punishing us is because Mother Earth has claimed us as her own. But it will discipline Xavier harshly. The mage is used to being the one giving orders and it’s humiliating for him to subjugate himself to the tree. He thinks to destroy it somehow, but he cannot.

The tree shook violently, leaves churning in the air. Below them, they heard pitiful cries and pleas. Zev wasn’t waiting around for the tree to change its mind. He’d been the one to zap its trunk with lightning and he couldn’t blame it for being angry.

They sped through the branches, dodging the worst of the flailing limbs, and quickly entered their own bodies. Zev, as he collapsed, reached for Branislava, holding her body in his arms to prevent her from hitting the floor hard.

The fight had cost them strength, but that was all, both were intact. He could feel Branislava’s sense of triumph. Together they had faced both Xavier and Xaviero and they had triumphed.

Branislava turned over, looking up to his face. “I can’t believe you thought of forcing him into a physical form. That was brilliant.”

“Don’t give him a big head,” Fen cautioned. “Both of you need blood. You’re in the middle of a protection circle. You might want to let us in.”

Zev drew in his breath. “I still need to attend to Arno’s body and then inform the council members,” he told Branislava. “I suppose we have no choice but to let them give us blood. You’re looking a little pale. Did Xaviero’s demon shadow hurt you?”

“I feel a little ragged around the edges,” she admitted, “but I’m alive and you’re alive, and that small piece of him was destroyed. Xavier was sent back down into the depths of hell and he can just stay there.”

Ivory crossed herself and gave them a small smile. “You two work very well together, a true alpha pair.”

“Don’t even think it,” Razvan cautioned, his arm sliding around Ivory’s waist. “No more wolf pups. Mikhail will not turn a blind eye forever.”

“I know.” She rested her head against his shoulder briefly. “But they would be perfect, just like Dimitri and Skyler are.”

“So would we,” Fen said, daring to tease her when no one else but her lifemate did. “Don’t listen to Razvan, Ivory.”

Branislava waved her hand and the protection circle opened. Zev made an effort and got to his feet. He didn’t want to sever Arno’s head, but it had to be done. The man needed to be given peace. He drew his sword and waited for Branislava to step back. Fen and Dimitri drew her to them, Dimitri steadying her while Fen offered her his wrist.

“Good journey, old friend,” Zev whispered as he swung his sword.

The wrench in his gut was expected. The burning behind his eyes not so much. He looked away from the others, unable for a moment to catch his breath. At once, she was there. Soft. Warm. Pouring into his mind, filling him with her special brand of love. How had he ever done without her?

“Zev,” Razvan said softly. “Take what is offered freely.” He held out his wrist.

Zev didn’t look at him, although he was fairly certain courtesy dictated that he do so. Razvan’s voice was too gentle, too understanding. He didn’t want sympathy, or even understanding. He let himself consume the hot nutrients, without actually tasting or even thinking about what he was doing. He had to get through the next few hours and do what had to be done. He’d grieve for his friends later.

“We’ll need to prepare a pyre for the bodies,” Zev said when he had drunk his fill. “The other members of the council will want to be there to send them on their journey. A private place, but big enough for the Lycans to gather.”

“Zev,” Fen said softly. “It isn’t a good time to have a large gathering, not now that we know Xaviero is close by. He’ll know the Lycan traditions and he’ll be expecting a funeral pyre.”

“He’ll be angry,” Tatijana added. “No one ever defied them, or outsmarted them. He’ll be so maddened, he might try to bring the mountain down on top of all us.”

“No one move,” Branislava said suddenly.

Zev froze in place. Her voice had gone still. A warning. He wasn’t the only one who believed her low, incredibly soft voice. He looked down at Arno’s body and the severed head. For a moment he could see nothing out of place. He was a man of small details and the only thing different was that the necklace had dropped onto the floor. What had she seen that he hadn’t?

“What is it?” Fen asked.

The room had flooded with tension. All of them were well aware of what a High Mage was capable of.

He saw it then. One strand of the cord had dropped into the pool of Arno’s blood and was now thoroughly soaked in it. The blood had begun to travel down the cord on one side and up the other so that the red stain spread slowly through the rest of the cords.

“The necklace,” Branislava whispered, her voice almost hoarse. “Arno’s necklace. Tatijana, it’s inside the circle with us.”

The cord had remained still under Zev’s watchful gaze. As far as he could tell, it was simply a weave of twine now soaked in blood. He believed Branislava’s fear, but he couldn’t see the why of it. Of course the necklace would get blood on it if it fell into the pool beneath Arno. Still, he waited, touching her mind. She was frightened.

Tatijana moved first. She stepped into the circle of protection that Branislava had made earlier. Ivory and Skyler joined her. The three began to walk together, following the circle, chanting softly. Zev didn’t allow himself to get distracted. He kept his gaze on the necklace, now pumped up from the blood. The strands of twine appeared to have swelled, nearly doubling in size. When the three women began to move, one piece near the medallion seemed to break off enough to turn toward the movement.

Fen’s breath hissed out. “It’s alive. That thing’s alive.”

Branislava reached out very slowly and touched Fen’s arm to quiet him. He was standing closest to the blood-filled creature and at the sound of his voice, it swung its head toward Fen. The movement was fast, as if sound and motion triggered aggression. The organism appeared to be listening again.

Zev could see the head now. It was round like a swollen bulb, but the strands at the top were frayed as if some of the twine was embedded within the head and stuck out like spiked hair. The blood continued to fill the strands so that it doubled, then tripled in size. The three women stepped away from the circle, and again the creature swung its head toward them. They froze halfway to the door.

How do we get rid of it?
Zev asked. He used the common Carpathian path of communication, rather than his private one with Branislava.

I’m trying to think. I’ve seen this before, but only once.
The tension in her voice indicated the creature was extremely dangerous.
No one talk or make a move. It’s lightning fast. You won’t be able to outrun it. Tatijana, do you remember?

No. No, I don’t.
There was terror in Tatijana’s voice, so much so that Zev feared Fen wouldn’t be able to stop himself from going to her. He must have said something privately to her because some of the fear on her face eased.

It’s okay,
Branislava said to her sister.
I’ll figure it out. I just need a minute.

Zev detested the fear in Branislava’s voice. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her safe, to keep her from having to deal with mage magic and blood and death. She’d had enough of such things in her childhood and the years that followed, trapped as she was in dragon form watching an endless parade of tortures.

Branka, you can remember. Your fear is a childlike fear. Go back to those days. That is where you will find the memory.

He realized the moment he gave her the information that she already knew it. She didn’t want to remember. Whatever memory was associated with the wormlike blood-filled creature, had been traumatizing and she didn’t want to recall it.

I’m sorry, mon chaton féroce. I should have known better. I’m with you this time. You won’t face it alone.

He might not be able to fight the thing physically, but he could stand in front of her.

Branislava shut herself off from the rest of them, but not Zev. She sank into his mind, merged deeply with him, drawing on his strength. He was a rock, a steady anchor, and she knew she could count on him to keep her just as steady.

Tatijana and Branislava had turned ten. Xavier had let them out of their dragon forms as an unexpected birthday present. Xaviero and Xayvion had arrived with packages wrapped in brown paper and twine.