“What is this
place?”
“It is one of
many escape routes from Ravenel. This one takes you in the direction Raphael
and Syrian will travel. You can gain advantage on them if you hurry. Follow
the path of the rising moon and you will know your way until the reach zenith
in the sky.”
Overcome at her
kindness, Swan hugged Ashanti. “I thank you, Ashanti. You have my undying
gratitude.”
Ashanti nodded as
Swan released her. “I know how it is to feel helpless, trapped. Go now.
Remember to guard your thoughts. I wish you luck. Do not give Raphael an easy
time of it.” She grinned broadly as she closed the gate behind Swan.
“I assure you, I
will not.”
Ashanti left her
then, her torch fading away until Swan was swallowed by darkness, her own
meager light weak in the cavernous blackness. Swallowing an unreasonable fear,
she began walking, occupying her mind as she traveled with plans on what she
would do once she was returned to normal.
She’d been too
trusting, that was certain. Never again would she allow danger to come so
close to her sister and Avonleigh. Her parents had toiled too long to allow
its destruction.
She wondered at
Raphael’s involvement. He seemed determined to help her, even against her
will. With Barakus endangered by the vampires’ return, she couldn’t help being
curious on his elusive reasoning. She finally decided that the attack upon her
on the borderlands had doubtless raised his protectiveness, for despite her
annoyance, she knew he was a man of deep honor.
Turning the
matter over and over again in her head, she barely registered the climb in
temperature, the increase of fresh air. A breeze struck her skin, fingered
through her hair, and she realized she neared the opening Ashanti had
described. Eager to leave the close confines, Swan quickened her pace, running
the remaining distance.
She stopped at a
chain of steps leading up. Glancing skyward, she saw that stars winked in the
blackness above. Swan breathed a sigh of relief--she’d made it. Climbing the
steps, she reached the top, stooping beneath a stone grate. Swan threw down
her torch and pushed the heavy covering aside until she could squeeze through
the opening. It took some effort to finally heave over and pull her body out.
She pushed the
grate back in place and collapsed on the ground, looking up at the sky as she
rested. Raphael would be so surprised to find she had defied him. Delighted
most nearly described her mood, delight to prove she had her own brand of
resourcefulness--that she could take care of herself when necessary.
She chuckled,
imagining the look on his face, how much it would rankle. He wouldn’t be able
to take her back, not without losing valuable time. All in all, she was
satisfied with her decision not to allow herself to be trampled on. Now she
need only watch for them, and she could follow at a safe distance.
It was as she
struggled to gain her feet that a black shape blotted the stars from the sky.
She froze instantly, unable to tear her eyes away.
A scream bubbled
from her throat as the wind gathered in a deafening gasp.
CHAPTER NINE
Syrian met
Raphael in the courtyard. Cloaked in black robes slit up the sides for easy
movement, he wore the shrouding robes to hide his golden skin, the hood drawn
close to shield his unusual hair. Should they encounter mortals, he would not
be readily identified as an inhabitant of Shadowmere. Syrian’s people had been
hunted to near extinction. He was one of the last of a dying race. He risked
much traveling with Raphael.
Round his waist,
his sword belt buckled, the toothed blade wicked in the light as the red jewel
glowed softly in the pommel. Beyond a few pouches hanging from his belt, he
bore nothing else.
Raphael carried
but one sack of supplies himself and held no blade. He’d been born a weapon.
He needed nothing else.
Blasien came out
to the courtyard as they prepared to leave, no other there to witness their
departure. The feline people had retreated to the great hall for their nightly
meal when dusk settled and would not leave for some time yet.
Blasien looked to
the gates as he reached them, the gatemasters preparing its opening. “What do
you plan to do about the vampire?”
Raphael finished
knotting the sack to his belt before regarding Blasien. “If he remains, I will
kill him should he hinder us, but I suspect he has gone.”
“My men found
nothing, but vampires seldom leave evidence of their presence.” Blasien
clapped them both on the shoulder. “Let it not be so long until next you
visit.”
Raphael nodded,
watching the great doors that marked the entrance of the castle. “I will
return to see the woman home.”
Syrian and
Blasien followed the line of his gaze and exchanged a look.
“She does not
come to see you go. Will you not say farewell to the woman?” Blasien asked,
stroking his chin thoughtfully.
Swan’s nature was
turbulent. He could stoke the flame of desire within her, but her mind
remained cold to him, beyond his reach. Raphael’s fists clenched, arms
bunching with tension. His every fiber burned with the need to go inside,
break the door down and kiss her until she was mindless to anything but him and
the feel of his tongue claiming her mouth. That he was so repugnant she would
not allow his kiss seared the shreds of his sanity.
Almost he
considered going to her, allowing her her head to come with him, yet it would
change little and only reveal his weakness to her. It was a weakness he could
not afford. The impotent were killed in Shadowmere.
Finally, Raphael
sighed, regaining control over the turmoil of his thoughts. “She cares nothing
for me. I will always be but a beast in her eyes. Her place is with her
people. I cannot deny that.”
“We beastmen are
drawn to strong, proud women. They do not bow easily.”
“I wish to hear
none of it, Blasien.”
The gates
opened. It was time. Raphael turned to go, but Blasien caught his arm,
glancing at Syrian a brief moment before returning his gaze to Raphael.
“A friend cautioned
me once on my pride. Sometimes it is necessary to go to a woman and lay bare
your soul to capture her heart.”
His jaw tightened
with the effort to control himself. Raphael turned fierce eyes on his friend.
“And what of the woman who has no heart?”
Blasien made no
answer, but released his arm.
He and Syrian
left through the slight opening of the gates, silence thick with his tension.
Setting the pace, Raphael followed Syrian, no thought in his mind but the
torture of his own guilt.
The moons had yet
to arise, but they needed no help, knowing their footing. Each had traveled
the land a hundred times, and would so a hundred more. Their run ate the miles
in minutes. He felt the increasing distance from her pull like a rope
threatening to snap.
A northerly wind
suddenly shifted the still air. They stopped, recognizing the threat
instantly, hackles raised. Raphael peered ahead, his senses stretching to find
their enemy.
A woman’s scream
ripped through the night--cut off as abruptly as it had erupted through the
stillness.
Instant dread
swarmed Raphael, making his heart pound in his chest. Adrenaline surged like
fire through his muscles.
“The Lady Swan,”
Syrian whispered, cursing.
Raphael took off,
recognizing the voice immediately.
He would kill who
ever had dared to touch her.
Nothing more than
blurs of motion in the night, they ran, instinct guiding them to her. A sudden
fog gathered, viscous, white mist clouding their way. Raphael tore through it
and the thick undergrowth, heedless of slashing thorns and broken rock. A
clearing opened before them without warning. Raphael halted abruptly at the
edges, unable to believe the sight that greeted him. Their breath was harsh in
the ensuing silence.
“Raphael!” Swan
shouted, restrained from going to him. She stood in the center, a man cloaked
in darkness holding her arms.
Raphael’s eyes
narrowed. “What are you doing here? If you have harmed her, I swear you’ll
not live to regret it.”
The man smiled,
sharp, ivory teeth flashing. “I’ve found something you did not know you lost,
brother....”
* * * *
The man looked
down at her, stroked the underside of her arm once before releasing her. Swan
pulled away to the fog’s edge. Her hand going to her sword, she glared at him
and resisted the urge to scratch her arm where he’d touched her. She felt
tainted by his touch.
His crimson eyes
glittered with amusement. “Something so precious should be guarded.”
“Her defiant
nature makes such a task impossible, Vachel. How did you find her?” He gave
Swan a hard look that would have killed a lesser woman. She wasn’t altogether
certain she wanted his rescue, if he thought he could punish her--and likely
would try.
“Do you believe
me such a novice? I caught your mark on her, Raphael ... else I would have
taken her for myself. Long has it been since I found a woman so tempting.”
The look he gave Swan made her shudder.
“You keep your
hands off her.” Raphael’s feral smile promised pain.
“Of course.”
Vachel returned his grim look with one of mirth.
Raphael nodded,
satisfied. “Come to me Swan, he offers no harm.”
“Are you so
certain?” she asked, giving the stranger a wary glance. Vachel set her nerves
on edge. She didn’t want to turn her back on him, let alone release her
weapon. Beneath the amused air lurked danger.
From tales she’d
heard as a child and Raphael’s initial attitude, she had little enough reason
to trust one such as he.
“Swan,” he
growled, capturing her attention.
She watched
Raphael in her peripheral, not quite believing the man so harmless, sidling
away. She told herself if he had intended harm, she would be dead by now. She
could feel it with such potent certainty the knowledge chilled her marrow. She
reached Raphael’s side and stepped behind him, her flank protected by Syrian’s
comforting presence. Swan clutched his hard biceps, leaning close as she
continued watching the man, Vachel.
“Is he truly your
brother?” she whispered, drawing Vachel’s eyes. His coloring was naturally
pale from living in the dark, but his hair was the same shade of midnight as
Raphael’s, highlights almost blue from the striking moon. His frame was leaner
than Raphael’s, but that appearance could be attributed to his greater height.
The structure of his face was harder, more angular and sharp, but the eyes-- in
the eyes she could see their similarity.
Raphael’s eyes
narrowed. “He is. Vampiric blood flows in our veins, and when a hunter female
is taken by one, her children are born more vampire than wolf. Vampiric women
cannot bear children. Their men steal ours to propagate their lines.”
Vachel chuckled
darkly. “My blood shames you, does it not, brother?”
Swan couldn’t
answer for Raphael, but she did not like the thought that he shared blood with
this man. Vampires were monsters. But then, she’d been told hunters were
monsters, also, all her life, as were all the people of Shadowmere. It was
with a sense of surprise that she realized old prejudice had been slowly
stripped away and she no longer thought of Raphael as a monster.
When the change
in thought had occurred, she didn’t know.
“I find I do not
think of you at all, Vachel. Why have you followed me?” Raphael said,
regarding his half-brother.
“I was curious to
see why the rabid watchdog of the borders allowed a human inside.”
“I would have
told had you asked.”
“Now Raphael,
what is the fun in that?” Vachel said, holding his palms up with innocence.
“Your sick humor
will spell your end one day.”
Vachel nodded his
dark head, his hair caught in the current air around him. “Of that, I have no
doubt. One cannot live by blood alone.”
Syrian
interrupted, breaking the tension. “Time passes we can ill afford, Raphael.”