Dark Lycan (15 page)

The farmer came out of his house, glancing toward the corral where the horses began to half rear and gallop around as if that would save them from a pack of wolves. The man disappeared back into his house and reemerged with a shotgun, looking over toward the nervous horses. Fen stayed in the mist as it circled through the field, swirling around the haystacks so they appeared as disembodied towers in the clouds.

The farmer stepped off the porch and again cautiously looked around. The horses trumpeted their distress over and over. Fen moved slower, allowing the wind to carry him above the corral. There was no way the horses would be in such a state over his scent. There was something else there, stalking the animals—or the farmer. There was no wolf pack closing in on the horses, or he would have seen them.

Fen kept his gaze on the farmer even as he moved cautiously in the midst of the dense fog creeping around him. Something moved along the ground. Something dark, twisted and ugly. The thing had crawled out of the swamp and dragged itself over the field, first toward the horses, then, when scenting the farmer, turned toward him.

Fen saw the disgusting creature huddled beside a boulder, positioning itself for the attack as the farmer drew near. Hastily, Fen shifted, to come striding out of the mist straight toward the owner of the farm. “Look out, man, step back,” he called, pushing compulsion into his tone.

Startled, the farmer did as Fen commanded. The twisted creature struck at him, fangs hooking his boot. It wiggled and growled, hissing its impatience. That small sliver of a shadow, a part of Bardolf, was still without a host it could influence to do evil. Animals could sustain its life, but certainly could never be used for the purpose Bardolf intended.

“What is it?” the man asked, shaking his boot and trying to knock the animal loose with the shotgun.

“A deadly creature,” Fen answered honestly. “A vampire’s familiar.” He knew most of the folks living around the village were superstitious—they believed in vampires—mostly because they’d had encounters with them even though the rest of the world made fun of them. They knew evil existed and they did their best to guard against it. The farmer made the sign of the cross and slammed his shotgun down on the wriggling creature.

Fen kicked it away from the farmer, produced a silver knife and plunged it into the ghastly creature, a cross between an eel and a snake. The creature screamed and writhed, black blood pouring from it. With it came the elusive shadow—a sliver of Bardolf. The sliver leapt toward the farmer, determined to live, to make its way back to its master.

Fen withdrew the knife from the twisted creature and threw it. The blade sliced cleanly through the shadow, pinning it to the ground. A great eye formed in the middle, staring at them with hatred and malice—a combination of Bardolf and Abel. The eye was evil, vertical rather than horizontal. The silver knife penetrated exactly in the middle of the eye. Black blood burst around the pupil and dripped on the ground, forming a dark pool.

The eye squealed, the pitch rising to a horrendous shriek as it wriggled and fought to become free. Fen swept the farmer behind him protectively, as the two vampires fought with concentrated strength to free the shadow. The eye convulsed, and a puff of black smoke burst the pupil and the light began to slowly fade as the shadow lost its life. With one last fading cry the shadow went limp and completely dark.

The farmer stepped around Fen and spit right in the middle of the pool of black blood before turning to face the hunter. He bowed awkwardly. “Thank you. You saved me. I’ve never had the honor of meeting one of our guardians.” He smiled, his eyes lighting up. “We hear the rumors you know, but we can go lifetimes without ever knowing if they’re true or not.”

“For your own safety,” Fen pointed out. “Stand way back. I have to incinerate this quickly. You don’t want infected vampire blood anywhere near your fields.”

Fen waited until the farmer moved off to a safe distance and he stared up at the sky, drawing in churning dark clouds. Thunder rolled ominously. Lightning forked, sizzling, spreading out, nearly blinding them with the bright flash of light. He felt the ground charging, the energy flowing through his body. He extended his arm toward the black blood, hideous creature and malevolent eye. Lightning leapt from ground to sky and back again. The stench nearly choked them both. Black tendrils of smoke rose and dissipated in the air, leaving a clean, fresh scent. The creature, eye and pool of blood incinerated as if they never had been.

Fen turned toward the stunned farmer. The man stood there with his mouth slightly open, curved in a half smile, clearly totally shocked and awed. He flashed Fen a quick grin.

“I know I will have to go to my grave with this memory secret, but I thank you for the experience.”

Bardolf and Abel had both seen the farmer. They might very well decide to attack and kill him, just to get back at Fen. At the very least, they would send members of the pack to kill his livestock as well as his family. Ordinarily there were few humans left with the knowledge of the Carpathian people, even there in the Carpathian Mountains.

“These vampires are extremely dangerous. They run with a pack of rogue werewolves they control. You and your family will be targeted. Is there a possibility of taking your family to safety and perhaps a neighbor would take your livestock?”

The farmer looked scared, but he shook his head. “I can send my wife and children to her mother’s, but I’ll have to run the farm myself. If I lose my livestock, or leave, we’ll lose everything.” He swept his arms out. “This is all we have. A man takes care of his family.”

Fen sighed. He could see the farmer’s point, but he wouldn’t be taking care of his family if they were all dead. “Send them away tonight. Pack light and tell them not to return until you send for them. Forgive me, but in order to safeguard you as much as possible, I will have to take your blood, and give you a very small amount of mine. You will be able to reach me in an emergency. Even if I am too far away, I can send aid to you. The choice is yours.”

If the farmer refused, Fen would have to allow him to be on his own. He would have no choice but to remove his memory of Fen’s visit, which would make him ten times more vulnerable.

The farmer bowed formally a second time, this time with a deeper bow. “It would be an honor.” He paused. “Does it hurt?”

Fen shook his head. “You won’t feel anything at all.”

The farmer stepped close, shotgun in his hands, exposing his throat. Fen gently removed the shotgun just as a precaution. He slipped into the man’s mind. Costin Eliade had grown up on a farm as had his father before him. He was a good man, worked hard, was devoted to his wife and family. He was frightened, but hiding it well, determined to do whatever it took to protect his family and farm.

Fen was both careful and respectful in the taking of the farmer’s blood. He took enough to feed and then soothed the man’s anxiety, keeping him from being aware as Fen gave him a small amount of his own blood. Any time he reached out to Costin, he would know where the farmer was, what he was thinking or doing. He would know the instant there was betrayal—or trouble. He put a strong barrier in his mind, a warning that if he tried to give up the information about the incident to anyone—including his wife—he would be forever on his own.

Costin’s intentions were admirable and he seemed a very honest man. Fen could find no hint of duplicity in his mind whatsoever. He meant to keep the Carpathian’s secrets. Fen made certain there was no evidence on the man or his clothes that blood had been taken before stepping away, although one hand remained on the farmer to steady him. Perhaps he’d taken a little more blood than necessary, because he had both Tatijana and Dimitri to provide for.

“Get your family out of here tonight. I’ll send aid to watch over your farm, both day and night until we locate and destroy the rogue pack and vampires. The moment that deed is done, I’ll let you know,” Fen assured the farmer.

The wind came in from the north, blowing with it a heavy fog. Gregori strode out of the dense mist, his shoulders wide, his silver eyes blazing. His sharp glance went from the farmer to the blackened ground and then to Fen. He raised a single eyebrow.

Fen managed to stop his grin just before it emerged. Of course Gregori would be suspicious of him. He was a stranger and with him had come two
Sange rau
and a rogue werewolf pack. Gregori didn’t want those enemies anywhere near the prince. No matter how severe his wounds, he wouldn’t trust his prince’s safety to anyone else.

Clearly Gregori was already scanning the farmer’s mind. He found the data needed and how Fen had destroyed the sliver of evil Bardolf and Abel had used to gain information. It was far easier and much more polite to pull the information from the farmer’s mind. He wasn’t questioning Fen or demanding why he would break a very hard rule, leaving memories of the Carpathian people in Costin Eliade.

He held out his hand to the farmer. “I’m Gregori. I understand you may need a little help protecting your farm.”

Costin nodded. “Very much so. They sent a familiar, and he killed it.” He gestured toward Fen.

“You’ll need protection during the day as well,” Fen said. “Rogue packs can be out in the sun. They’ll usually come at you at dusk or dawn, but in this case, the alpha will send them in during the part of the day our people are unable to protect you.”

“We’ve got a few people who can aid you,” Gregori assured.

They can never, under any circumstances, be here if the
Sange rau
show up. The combination of vampire and wolf is powerful beyond belief, and killing them is extremely hard.
Fen sent the information on the common Carpathian mental path.

Gregori didn’t look at him or give it away they were in communication.
I am certain you will be coming this rising to give us the information we need to destroy these vampires of mixed blood.

“I would be most grateful for anyone you can send,” Costin admitted.

“At night, you will be protected by a couple of us, but your real danger is during the day,” Fen said. “Should you have need, reach for me. Use your mind, even if you have to use your fear. I will hear you.”

Gregori turned slashing silver eyes on Fen.
You can walk in the sunlight?
There was no mistaking the edge of alarm in his voice. He didn’t exactly try to cover it up.

Fen barely inclined his head.
If necessary, although it is not easy.
He was not giving out any more information until Gregori shared more data with him. He turned to leave.

“Are you returning with me?” Gregori asked aloud.

Fen shook his head. “I need to attend my brother. He isn’t doing as well as I would like. In the first battle, he and Zev fought off the rogues in order to allow me to get to the
Sange rau
. His belly was ripped open, his wounds severe.”

Immediately he felt Gregori’s sympathy as the Carpathian fell into step with him. “Do you have need of a healer?”

“I don’t know yet. Allow me to examine him. Should I need your aid, I will call.” Fen was reluctant to disclose Dimitri and Tatijana’s resting place to anyone.

Gregori nodded. “I will tell Mikhail to expect you, unless, of course, you call for my aid.”

Fen studied Gregori’s face. He was pale, with lines etched deep. He wasn’t completely healed from the battle, yet he had come himself to ensure the prince was safe. Fen’s respect for him went up another notch.

“Thank you. Should Dimitri require your skills, I will call. I’ll come to speak to the prince as soon as I can.”

Should Gregori have to aid him in healing his brother, Fen would move Dimitri just as a precaution. Gregori would discover Dimitri’s blood was different. How could he not if he entered the body to heal it? Dimitri was too vulnerable, and with the elite hunters either drawing close, or already there, both Fen and Dimitri were already at great risk. Fen preferred not to take chances with his brother’s life.

As if reading his mind, Gregori touched his arm to slow him down. “There are six strangers in the village. All of them met with the man you call Zev. They’re all staying at the inn. They look . . . tough.”

Fen nodded. “They are best left alone. I cannot be anywhere near them over the next few risings.”

Gregori frowned. “This has to do with your Carpathian blood mixed with their Lycan blood?” He made it more of a question than a statement.

Fen shrugged. “When you first came upon the battle, were you certain I was Carpathian?”

“No,” Gregori admitted.

Fen knew that was most likely the reason Gregori remained suspicious of him.

“It is the same with the Lycans. Until the week of the full moon, they cannot detect me, but during this phase, they know exactly what I am. They call a vampire/wolf cross a
Sange rau
and they do not distinguish between that monster and me.”

“The strangers who have come to our village?”

“They are the elite of the Lycans. Their best hunters with superior speed and gifts. Zev is their true alpha. They have a leader, but all of them answer to him. They were summoned to hunt and destroy the rogue pack, just as we send our hunters out to kill the vampire. Zev is aware that there is one
Sange rau
running the pack. He doesn’t yet know about the second.”

“They’ll need the information to successfully hunt them,” Gregori pointed out.

Fen nodded. “I cannot deliver it to them, at least not for a few more risings. You will have to find another way.” He turned his face toward the forest. His unease had been growing. “I need to get to my brother.”

Gregori stepped away and lifted a hand to him. “I’ll see to it that this farmer gets his family to safety.”

“Thank you.” Fen inclined his head and then leapt for the sky. He shifted in midair, sprouting the feathers of an owl, the talons and curved beak. He circled the farm and the outlying area just to double-check that no more threats were close, before winging his way back to the forest.

Again, he was very careful, making certain no one had followed him, before he dropped down, shifting again as he opened the earth beneath him. Tatijana lay in the rich soil, her face pale, skin nearly translucent. She looked like an ice princess, elusive and beautiful. Her hair was very long and thick, still twisted into that flowing endless mass of an intricate braid. Ribbons woven into her hair bound the long length, adding a touch of the dramatic.