Come back, Jacques
. Shea's voice was filled with concern.
I cannot. I cannot leave Byron to suffer my fate.
I can feel your pain, Jacques. You are having a hard time concentrating on what you're doing. Your mind is very scattered. Of what use are you to Byron if you get caught? Come back to me.
I will get him out of there. Just stay with me, Shea.
Jacques concentrated on her, held her strength and warmth in his mind to fight the growing pain. The ground seemed to roll beneath his feet; the rain pounded down on him. His flesh was burning; he could smell it. Cuts opened up and bled freely. He caught at his chest as pain ripped through him, tearing muscles and bone. His throat closed off; breathing became impossible. His heart pounded until he felt it had to explode.
"Jacques!" Gregori gripped his arm. "It is part of the trap set for you specifically. The vampire knew you would come, and you are caught in the web. He is amplifying your own fears and the pain you suffered. He is not here; it is merely a warp you are trapped in. Know it is not real, and fight your way out."
"I do not understand." Pinpricks of scarlet dotted Jacques' body, stained his shirt. His eyes were alive with pain and madness.
I do.
Shea snatched at the information in his mind. She wrapped him in the warmth of her love.
Feel me, Jacques. Concentrate only on me and what you feel when we touch, when we kiss.
She pictured it in her head, him holding her so possessively, so tenderly, his mouth finding hers hungrily. The way she felt, hot and silken with heat, needing and wanting him. Her mouth as hungry as his. Her hands tangled in his thick hair.
Feel me, Jacques.
Her whisper moved over his skin like the touch of her fingers.
Jacques narrowed his focus until he blocked out everything but the smell and taste of her, the touch of her fingers, her soft, sexy voice. She became his world, was his world, would always be. Nothing else was real. She was his heart and his very breath. Her breathing regulated his back to a steady in and out. Her heart brought the rhythm of his slowly back to a normal pattern. His skin was on fire, but with sensual hunger rather than the pain of torture.
Her breath seemed to warm his ear, his mind.
I love you, Jacques. Do what you must, then hurry home to me.
She released him with great reluctance, the warmth of her love lingering behind.
Jacques shook his head to bring himself back to the present situation. Almost at once the earth moved beneath his feet, and the pain tried to hammer at him. But the vampire would not snag him twice in the same trap. He wrenched himself forward, concentrating on the way Shea's mouth tasted, the curve of her hip beneath his hand, the way her eyes lit up just before she laughed. He held her close to his heart, kept the vision of her wild mane of hair in front of him as he pushed his way through the warp and out into the open land.
"Good," Gregori approved. "But this one is very adept. I am uneasy over the way this is going, Mikhail. Let us take to the air above the wires and approach from different directions. I will go in first. Our people cannot afford to lose either of you."
"Gregori," Mikhail reminded him softly, "if the child is your lifemate, and you do something careless, you are condemning her to death. Keep that in mind when you enter this place of madness."
Gregori's silver eyes slashed at his old friend. "Do you think I would chance harming her in any way? I have waited several lifetimes for her. These humans are nothing. They have persecuted our people for far too long. I mean it to stop."
Mikhail nodded, his dark eyes, so like his brother's, black ice. "You are up to this, Jacques?"
Jacques' smile was a humorless promise of retaliation. "Have no worries about me. I am looking forward to this."
Mikhail sighed. "Two bloodthirsty savages thinking they are in the dark ages."
Jacques exchanged a humorless grin with Gregori. "The dark ages were not such a bad time. At least justice could be dispensed easily without worrying about what the women would think."
"You both have gone soft," Gregori snickered. "No wonder our people have such problems. The women are ruling, and you two besotted idiots just follow along."
Jacques' solid form wavered, became transparent. "We will see who proves to be the soft one, healer." His body completely disappeared from sight.
Mikhail glanced at Gregori, shrugged, then followed suit. None of this was to his liking. Gregori was a time bomb waiting to explode. And only God knew what Jacques was capable of. It seemed the worst possible time to confront an enemy, just as they were weakening from the light of day.
Gregori waited until Mikhail and Jacques had disappeared before allowing his body to dissolve. He launched himself skyward, wincing as the sun's light, penetrating the dark clouds, hit his eyes. He cursed silently. Raven was alone with a woman who knew next to nothing about their people's capabilities. She was very weak. The child was his only hope, and it was stupidity to rescue a Carpathian male who was on the verge of turning. A few more years and Gregori would be hunting him.
Jacques moved across the meadow, high above the gleaming wires. Water danced off the thin strands like crystal droplets. He moved around the blackened ruins in a slow circle, looking for the entrance hidden in the ground. It bothered him that he didn't know exactly where it was, or that the others might know before him. It made him feel as if he were ill, totally incompetent.
Soft laughter sent warmth curling through his body.
Since when have you ever been incompetent? You made me crazy even when you were lying allegedly helpless, in bed. The first time you kissed me, I forgot my own name. That is not incompetent.
Jacques found the tension easing out of his body. Shea had a way of doing that for him with just the sound of her laughter, her warmth.
I am looking for the entrance to the cellar. The ground appears to be completely undisturbed.
As I walked across the meadow and approached the burned area, the stone fireplace was on my right. I circled the perimeter from the right side. The door was buried in the dirt. I couldn't see it, but I felt it with my hand. I remember the fireplace was to my right by about ten feet or so.
Thanks, little red hair.
Jacques crouched in the rain, ran his hand along the mud-slick soil.
"There is something over here," Mikhail said softly, his eyes searching for a hidden trap. His body hovered over the area as he examined the ground. "There are marks on the ground, as if a branch has been dragged over it. Dirt and rocks have been scattered over the spot."
"Do not touch it!" Jacques ordered sharply. "The fireplace should be to your right and farther out."
"You remember this?" Gregori asked skeptically.
"Shea remembers. It must be another trap. The rain would have removed those marks."
"They did not have much time to set such traps," Mikhail observed. "Byron was taken no more than an hour ago, if that."
"Perhaps we are underestimating this vampire, Mikhail. I could manufacture such traps, and so could you. Aidan and Julian could do so, and no doubt Jacques. Who else do we know who has this kind of power?" Gregori asked softly.
"There are few others over the age of six hundred years," Mikhail said.
"Perhaps this is a crime of hate more than of age," Jacques ventured. "What was done to me was done with the idea of causing as much suffering as I could take before death claimed me. That is a crime of hatred, one of revenge."
Gregori and Mikhail exchanged a quick, knowing look. "Of course, you have to be right, Jacques," Mikhail agreed for both of the ancients. "A vampire would avoid us, not try to draw us to him. So whom did you anger enough to warrant this much hatred?"
Jacques shrugged calmly. His own hatred was deep and smoldering, a rage so ingrained that he knew the demon would rise within him the moment he encountered any of those involved in his torture and imprisonment. Whoever hated him so much had created a like feeling within him, hatred that not only matched but surpassed anything the vampire might feel. "You know more of my past than I do, but it really does not matter, as long as he believes I wronged him," Jacques said. "It is here. The door is here."
"The human is dozing." Mikhail probed the mind of the unseen man carefully. "He is supremely confident that he will be undisturbed."
Gregori, too, was probing the human. "I like none of this, Mikhail. It seems too easy. The vampire knows we can travel in the early morning hours. Our powers might not be at full strength, but even diminished, we can handle humans easily."
"You stay out of sight, Gregori, watch our backs," Mikhail cautioned. "I will instruct the human to open the cellar and allow us in. Jacques and I will test for a trap."
"Jacques and I will go inside, Mikhail. We cannot risk your life. You know that." Gregori did not wait for a response. He had spent most of his life guarding Mikhail, the dispenser of justice for his people. Even with his lifemate so close to existence, Gregori would not back away from this duty. He seized the human's mind with ease, demanding information.
Jeff Smith woke abruptly, a pain in his head, uneasiness gripping his very soul. In his mind was something that did not belong to him, something powerful that demanded every detail of the past few days, insisted on a blow-by-blow replay of the past few hours. He tried to resist, but the thing was far too powerful to ignore. He went over every detail. The vampire bringing the paralyzed Carpathian, Donnie burning and slicing the victim, Slovensky laughing and egging him on. The vampire standing emotionless, watching with empty eyes and frankly scaring the hell out of Jeff. Donnie and Slovensky going for supplies, whispering to each other and the vampire.
The vampire promised no one would be able to find them; his spells would safeguard the makeshift dungeon until nightfall. The other vampires would be trapped in the ground until night. Jeff was safe and could torment their victim at will. Smith wished he had the woman, the red-haired doctor. He had delicious thoughts of what he would do with her for long hours at a time.
Jacques made a sound, not aloud but in his mind, and immediately broke all contact with Shea. She could not witness the demon rising in him. Already fangs were exploding in his mouth, and the red haze demanding a kill was spewing upward with violent, murderous intent. A low, warning growl escaped him, and he hissed at Gregori to warn him off his kill.
Mikhail moved to intercept his brother. "We have need of this man."
Gregori placed himself firmly between the two Carpathians, recognizing immediately that Jacques' tattered mind was focused on only one thing.
Do not try to interfere, Mikhail. He will attack you. He is not healed, and he is very dangerous. We cannot control him, and he has shut out the woman. She is his only hold on reality. We cannot save this human.
He shrugged as if to say it didn't matter to him one way or the other. And it didn't. If Mikhail had not been with them, Gregori would have already dispensed his own brand of justice.
Smith felt something take a firmer hold on his mind. This was not the same as the demand for information. This was an attack by an alien being, a grip of steel that felt as if it would crush his very skull. Smith cried out, whirled to face the broken man lying so seemingly helpless before him. The eyes were open, staring at him, pain-filled, malevolent even, but his victim appeared near death. The vampire had assured Jeff that this one was quite paralyzed in body and mind, that he could feel the pain inflicted upon him but could not cry out for help to others of his kind or harm the humans in any way.
Smith picked up a knife, still crimson with the victim's blood, and took a step toward the bloody coffin. Instantly he was slammed against the wall by an unseen force, and the knife twisted toward him. Screaming, Jeff dropped the weapon. His head buzzed with pain. Whatever it was, was outside, demanding that he open the door. He clapped both hands to his head, trying to resist the compulsion, but his feet were already moving, obeying the unseen dictator.
The being snarled in impatience and applied more pressure. Jeff knew he was letting in his own death as he made his way up the rotting stairs to the heavy door. His every step brought those razor-sharp teeth closer and closer to his throat. But he couldn't stop himself. The being sent the clear picture to his brain, yet he couldn't stop himself. His hand was on the door. He shoved.
The wooden door exploded upward, and two clawed hands seized him, dragged him into the pouring rain. Thunder cracked, and a bolt of lightning hit a tree, split it in two with a deafening sound. A shower of sparks erupted. The earth fell away as Jeff was jerked skyward. He recognized the face now, the man he had once tortured for days. The man they had purposely buried alive seven years earlier.
Those black eyes had promised death, had haunted him for years, and now they were ice and fire, rimmed with red. Teeth gleamed white, sharp and dripping. Jeff screamed as the hot breath burned his neck. He felt the teeth tearing into his flesh, exposing his jugular. Hot liquid spilled down his chest, and he looked down to see his own blood spraying out. And then the creature was consuming him while his heart stuttered to stay alive and his mind cried out for another chance.
All around him the ghosts of the women he had raped and killed, the men Donnie had encouraged him to torture, floated into his mind. The rain beat down on his upturned face. The creature dropped him into the mud with a sickening thud. Jeff squirmed, tried to crawl, turned his head to see a wolf approaching from the timberline. He tried to make a sound, but there was only a gasping wheeze.
Jacques crouched down and looked him in the eye, completely dispassionate, watching the glaze creeping into the depths of Jeff Smith's staring eyes. "You go to a hell you deserve, human," he whispered contemptuously into the dying man's mind.
Jacques stayed crouched beside the man, red flames burning in his eyes, the demon in him roaring and hungry for retribution. He knew Byron was trapped in the cellar, that this human and his friends had tortured the Carpathian male just as they had tortured him years earlier. Adrenaline and power pumped through his body.