Dark Magic (42 page)

On the ground there was a long silence, then a collective sigh of relief. Someone laughed nervously. "No way, man. What a show!"

Savannah latched on to that reaction, fed it quickly, built the idea in their minds, and softened the impact of what they had seen.

"Great special effects," murmured one teenager.

His father laughed a little reluctantly. "How the hell did they do that? The guy just disappeared into the air." He looked over at the carcasses lying a distance away and swore softly under his breath. "Those are real. They can't be part of some show."

"This is crazy." One of the men knelt beside the two men lying in the street. The guide was checking the pulse of the other one. "They're both dead. What the hell happened here?"

Savannah jumped in again, feeding answers to the collective audience, building their memories of what was real and what was illusion. The two tourists from Florida had argued, then fought before pulling their guns. It was in the middle of an impromptu magic show the guide had asked Savannah to put on for his clients. The pack of dogs had come out of nowhere, frightened by the sound of the guns.

It was the best she could do with so little time. Already the police were swarming around them, taking statements. She had to work at blurring people's memories of Gregori. All the time she was mentally locked with him in flight high over the city and bayou, heading for the most dangerous place of all, the vampire's lair.

Gary stayed close to her side, worried as her face grew more pale by the moment. The strain of being in two places at one time was showing on her. The effort to hold together an elaborate illusion on such a number of witnesses was tremendous. Small beads of perspiration dotted her forehead, but her chin was up, and she was as regal as ever. She captivated the police officer taking her statement.

Gary was certain she had succeeded with the tourists. The entire thing was too bizarre to comprehend, and the memories of Gregori had been eradicated, so the gunfight and dogs were their reality. It was only the tour guide who looked up at the sky with a faint frown and examined the scorch marks some distance from them. Several times Gary caught him staring at Savannah in bewilderment, but the man was far too experienced on the streets to tell such a wild tale when no one else seemed to have seen what he had.

Savannah worked at keeping focused on the monumental task on hand. Her mind was really with Gregori, a part of her merged deep, a haunting shadow in the corner of his mind.

Gregori could feel her presence, her worry for his injury, the loss of blood. He sent her reassurance even as he approached the heart of the swamp. From La Rue's description, he recognized the area. Insects swarmed to do the master vampire's bidding, rising in black clouds to sting and bite anything that came within his boundaries to disturb him. Gregori threw a protection barrier up and continued downward toward the bogs and the black, murky pool. The putrid smell was in his nostrils, the decay and death of centuries seeping insidiously into the surrounding air.

There was no wind to carry away the stench. Sinkholes gurgled and lay waiting for one wrong step. Patches of vivid emerald-green grass beckoned the unwary into their deadly trap. Wildlife and human alike would be attracted to the spots of brilliant, life-affirming color, lured to a slow death as they sank, trapped in the sucking mud the tufts of green hid so successfully.

Gregori hovered in the air above the murky pool. Layers of rock formed a shelf beneath the surface of the water where the grotesque beast anchored its victims to rot the meat. The water itself was thick with sludge, completely unlike the waterways leading to it. There was no sign of the alligator or the vampire.

Gregori scanned the area carefully, cautiously. This vampire was cunning and vicious. This was his home ground, his lair. It would not be an easy thing to trap him here. Gregori felt the presence of evil, knew the vampire was close. He chose the most solid-looking ground he could find as far from the dark, dead waters as he could get.

He used his powerful voice. Soft. Insistent. Impossible to ignore. "You must come to me. You have waited long to face me, and I have come for you. Come to me." Each word was pure and musical, sifting through the air to reach any and all within hearing and draw them out Each note was mesmerizing, hypnotic, a sorcerer's spell. Gregori stood with a lazy casualness, his solid frame masculine and invincible despite the blood staining his shirt high on his shoulder.

He began to murmur softly in the ancient tongue, repeating his command for the vampire to show himself. Reeds swayed along the embankment, then bent like a rolling wave. There was no wind to cause the movement. Out of the comer of his eye, Gregori could see a second wave start, and from a third point, another wave. They came at him so that he was surrounded, the unseen enemy converging from all sides. He waited. As patient as the mountains. As still as granite. Merciless. Relentless.
Gregori. The Dark On
. The hunter.

The assault came from above. The sky filled with so many birds, the air groaned at the unexpected migration. Talons extended and razor-sharp beaks ready, the birds came in fast, raking at his face and body. Gregori melted into mist, but droplets of red marring the green reeds gave evidence that the vampire had scored a second hit.

Gregori had no choice but to materialize to stop the blood flow weakening his body. There was a soft hiss of satisfaction, a grating, rumbling bellow of challenge. The ground beneath Gregori's feet was spongy, sucking at his shoes with a greedy sound. While he searched the moving reeds, the enemy attacked from beneath him, erupting out of the ooze with gaping jaws and jagged teeth. The vicious snap grazed his leg as he jumped backward to sink knee-deep into the muck. He slammed a flimsy block between himself and the alligator, the best he could do as he struggled to free himself. A small reptile lunged at him from behind, another from the left. The smallest one ripped his leg open with a vicious slash of teeth.

Gregori went down in the oozing mud with the small creatures rushing to feed on their prey. They drove in, ripping and tearing in a feeding frenzy. The swarm of insects descended on him, biting and stinging. As he fought his way up, there was a sudden eerie silence. The insects veered away, and the small alligators slithered quickly toward the swamp.

Gregori half sat, the muck seeping into his clothes, blood dripping steadily from his leg, arm, and chest. He heard a single sound in the sudden silence of the bog. A rasp as the enormous creature approached him was his only warning. The beast moved quickly, fast and efficient even in the soggy muck. The powerful tail switched back and forth. The eyes glowed a wicked red, evil and cold. The snout was armor-plated and covered with algae and furred streamers of green goo. It lunged toward Gregori, its fetid breath hot with anticipation of the kill.

A streak of white heat, electric energy, slammed down from the sky and sliced through the bony plates and the thick skin and seared the inner organs. The lunge carried the creature forward despite the solid hit by the bolt of lightning. Smoke poured out of the gaping jaws, carrying the smell of burned meat. The beast drove forward, straight at Gregori's chest, determined to rip and tear, the only thought to kill and devour.

Gregori simply disappeared. The powerful jaws closed on empty air. The beast, mortally wounded, roared and shook its massive head from side to side, looking desperately for its enemy. The vampire abandoned the smoking, scorched carcass, rising into the air with a scream of defiance and hatred. Even as he rose, preparing to flee, to leave his centuries-old sanctuary and run for his life, he encountered a barrier. He was struck hard, the blow knocking him from the sky to the ground.

The vampire lay breathless for a moment, shocked at the incredible strength in that blow. Cautiously he got to his feet, sinking a bit into the dark muck of the swamp.
Gregori. The Dark One
. He had always been larger than legend, larger than myth. Now the vampire knew that the whispers, the rumors, were all true. There was no escaping the Dark One. Gregori had used himself as bait to bring the vampire out into the open. What hunter would do such a thing? Believe so much in himself that he would risk his life? The vampire could feel the blow through his entire body. It shook him as nothing else could.

At once he changed tactics, his harsh coldness changing from reptilian to soft warmth. "I do not wish to fight you, Gregori. I acknowledge you are a great hunter. I do not wish to continue this battle. Allow me to leave this place and go to my lair in the Florida Everglades. I will stay hidden for a century—more, if you wish it." His voice was beguiling, fawning.

Gregori materialized a few feet away. Blood dripped steadily from several raw, gaping wounds. His face was impassive, implacable, the pale eyes like steel. "The Prince of our people has sentenced you to death. I can do no other than carry out justice."

The vampire shook his head, a grim parody of a smile on his face. "The Prince does not know of my existence. You do not have to carry out a sentence he has not commanded. I will go to ground."

Gregori sighed softly. "There can be no discussion, vampire. You know the laws of our people. I am a hunter, a bearer of justice, and I can do no other than to carry out our laws." His eyes never left the vampire, never blinked. The wind was rising, and it blew strands of black hair around his face so that he looked like a warrior of ancient times.

The vampire's eyes went flat and vicious. "Then it begins." Lightning zigzagged across the sky, jumping from cloud to cloud. The wind whipped and roared.

Gregori glided, a fluid motion, gentle, lazy, non-threatening. His head tilted, the lightning reflected in the silver sheen of his eyes. Blood dripped steadily from his wounds. The vampire caught the scent of fresh blood, and his gaze rested greedily on the powerful, ancient liquid of life. Gregori struck so fast, the vampire never saw him move. Distracted by the sight of the lush feast of an ancient's blood, the vampire comprehended he was in mortal danger only when he felt the impact of a tremendous blow to his chest.

Gregori was already gone, standing tall and motionless some distance away, regarding the vampire with cold, empty eyes. Slowly he extended his arm, turned his palm up, and opened his fist.

The vampire screamed and screamed, the sound high-pitched and ugly in the night. It traveled out over the waterways and canals. The undead slowly, reluctantly, looked from the pulsating object in the hunter's palm, down at his own chest. There was a gaping hole where his heart had been. Stricken, he took two steps forward before his body crumpled and he fell face down into the muck and slime.

Gregori's face paled visibly, and he sat down abruptly. Allowing the poisoned, withered heart to fall from his palm, he examined the burns and blisters on his skin from the contact with the tainted blood. He concentrated on gathering energy from the sky, focused, and sent a fiery ball into the vampire's body. The second strike incinerated the contaminated heart. Gregori sank back into the muck and lay staring up at the night sky. It blurred and faded. A strange lethargy took over, a heavy, drowsy sensation. He was floating on a sea, disconnected, watching the dawn streaking the dark sky gray.

His long lashes swept down, and he relaxed into the soft mud. He felt the disturbance in the air above him. He smelled the fresh scent dispersing the stale stench of the swamp. Savannah. He would know her anywhere. He tried to rouse himself, to warn her the dawn was approaching and it was dangerous to be so far from shelter.

Savannah's gasp was audible. "Oh, Gregori." She touched one of the seeping gouges in his chest. It was a measure of his weariness, the damage to his body, that he could not find the energy to close his wounds. She merged with him and tried to force his obedience in the same way he often did hers. He would close those lacerations, would seek the healing sleep of their people, and leave the rest to her.

She searched in his mind for Gary's mental trail, then reached for their human friend.
Hear me, Gary, we are in trouble. Find LaRue. Beau LaRue. He captains a boat for the bayou tours. Tell him to go to the old man alligator's pool. You must come before the sun gets high and get us to a dark place. Even if we appear dead, take us there. We are counting on you. You are our only hope
.

She searched the area for the most stable stretch of land. Working quickly and hard, Savannah was able to levitate Gregori's body to the small mound, but there was no relief from the sun. As she bent over Gregori, she realized he had not put himself into a healing sleep. Her heart slammed hard against her chest. Her heart stuttered. Gregori was too weak from loss of blood to comply, to heal himself. Quickly she sealed the wounds herself, once more utilizing the information in Gregori's memories. Jerking off her jacket, she lay beside her lifemate, covering both their heads with the material. Slashing her wrist, Savannah laid her arm over Gregori's mouth, allowing the life-giving substance to flow into his depleted body, stroking his throat to coax him to swallow.

Chapter Eighteen

The boat chugged so slowly through the channel, Gary wanted to scream. For the hundredth time he glanced at his watch. The sun was climbing steadily into the sky. He had never been so aware of the heat and light radiating from the sun. It had taken precious time to locate Beau La Rue and convince him Savannah and Gregori were in terrible trouble. With each passing second, he was certain the sun would incinerate them.

"Can't this thing go any faster?" he demanded for the tenth time.

Beau shook his head. "We're close to the old man's pool. It is treacherous in these waters. Snags are everywhere, jagged rocks. It is dangerous. And if we meet the old man, we will not survive."

"Gregori killed him," Gary said coolly, with complete faith in the Carpathian. He was certain the man could not be defeated. Whatever wounds he had sustained would not prevent him from killing his opponent.

"Pray that you are right," the captain said softly, meaning it.