Authors: Christine Feehan

Water Bound (56 page)

BOOK: Water Bound

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Kevin sighed. “We found his body just on the other side of the caves. He’d tangled with another cat. Brad was kneeling beside him, and the next thing I knew he was on the ground and we were pinned down. I had no weapon and I shifted to try to circle around and find the shooter, but I couldn’t find any tracks.”

Brodrick swore. “It’s her.
She
did this. I know it was her. That’s why you didn’t find any tracks. She took to the trees.”

Neither said who
she
was. Dominic wanted to know who the mysterious woman they obviously hated and feared could be. Someone he wouldn’t mind meeting. Four of the five De La Cruz brothers had lifemates. Could the elusive woman be one of their lifemates? It was possible, but he doubted it. The De La Cruz brothers would not want their women in battle. They had already been men who had fiercely protective natures, and coming to this part of the world had only increased their dominant tendencies. They had eight countries to patrol, and the Malinov brothers would know how impossible it would be to cover every inch of the rain forest. They would never, under any circumstances, send their women out alone. No, this had to be someone else.

The eagle spread its massive wings and took to the air. The sun was beginning to fade, making him a little more comfortable, but the whisper of the parasites grew louder, tempting, pushing his hunger to a ravenous level, until he could barely think straight. It was only the bird’s form that kept Dominic’s sanity as he tried to adjust to the rising level of torment. As the night grew closer, the parasites went from sluggish to active, stabbing at his internal organs while the vampire blood burned like acid. He needed to feed, but he was becoming more and more worried that insanity was grabbing hold and he wouldn’t find the strength to resist the temptation of a kill while feeding.

Each rising he’d woken voraciously hungry, and each time he fed, the parasites grew louder, pushing for a kill, demanding he feel the rush of power, the rightful rush of power, promising a coolness in his blood, a feeling of euphoria that would remove every pain from his body.

He kept to the shade of the canopy as he expanded his exploration, heading for the site of the battle, hoping the eagle could spot something the men hadn’t. He found the cave entrances, very small and made of limestone, but these didn’t seem to curve back underground to form the labyrinth of tunnels as the cave system miles away had done. There were only three small chambers and in each, he found Mayan art on the walls. All three caves showed evidence of occupation, however brief, but violent in some way. There were dried spots of blood in all of them.

He took to the sky again, a vague uneasiness in his gut. That bothered him. He had seen horrific sites of battle, torture and death. He was a Carpathian warrior, and his lack of emotion served him well. Without a lifemate to balance the darkness in him, he needed the lack of emotion to stay sane over a thousand years of seeing cruelty and depravity, yet the sight of the blood in that cave, and knowing women had been brought there by the jaguar-men to be used as they wished, sickened him. And that should never happen. Intellectually, perhaps. An intellectual reaction was acceptable, and the honor in him would rise up to abhor such behavior. But a physical reaction was completely unacceptable—and impossible. Yet ...

Unsettled, Dominic expanded his search to include the cliffs above the river. The rain continued, increasing in strength, turning the world a silvery gray. Even with the clouds as cover, he felt the bright heat invading as he burst into the open over the river. A body lay crumpled and lifeless in the river, caught on the rocks, battered and forgotten. Long thick hair lay spread out like seaweed, one arm wedged in the crevice two large boulders made. She was faceup, her dead eyes staring at the sky, the rain pouring over her and running down her face like a flood of tears.

Cursing, Dominic circled and then dropped. He couldn’t leave her like that. He just couldn’t. It didn’t matter how many he’d seen dead. He would not leave her, a broken doll with no honor or respect for the woman she’d been. From what he’d gleaned from the conversation between Brodrick and Kevin, she had a family, a husband who loved her. She—and they—deserved more than her body battered by water, left to swell and decompose and be fodder for the fish and carnivores that would feast on her.

The bird settled on the boulder just above her body and he shifted, covering his skin with a heavy cloak, the hood helping to protect his neck and face as he crouched low and caught her wrist. He was strong and had no trouble pulling her from the water into his arms. Her head lolled back on her neck and he saw bruises marring her skin, even prints around her neck. There were circles, black and blue, around her wrists and ankles. Again he was shaken by his reaction. Sorrow mixed with rage. Sorrow was so heavy in his heart that it slowly blotted out the rage.

He took a breath and let it out. Was he feeling someone else’s emotions? Did the parasites amplify emotions around him, adding to the high the vampire received from the terror his victim felt—the adrenaline-laced blood provided ? That was a possibility, but he couldn’t imagine that a vampire could feel sorrow.

Dominic carried the woman into the forest, every step increasing the heartache. The moment he entered the trees, he scented blood. This had to have been where the second battle had taken place and Brad had been wounded. He found where the third jaguar-man had shed his clothes and had gone on the hunt, hoping to circle around and take the shooter.

There were few tracks to show the jaguar’s passing, a small bit of fur and a partial track the rain had filled, but it wasn’t long before he found the body of the cat. There had been a battle here, one between two cats. The dead cat’s prints had been heavier and spread farther apart, indicating he was larger, but the smaller cat had obviously been a veteran fighter; it had killed with a bite to the skull after a fierce struggle. The foliage was soaked in blood and there was more on the ground.

Dominic knew the jaguars would return to burn the fallen cat, so after carefully studying the ground to commit the victorious jaguar’s prints to memory, he carried the woman into the most lush spot he could find. A grotto of limestone covered in tangled vines of flowers would be her only marker, but he opened the earth deep and gave her a place to rest. As the soil closed over the woman, he murmured the death prayer in his native language, asking for peace and for her soul to be welcomed into the next life as well as asking that the earth receive her body and welcome her flesh and bones.

He stayed a moment while the rays of the sun sought him out through the cover of the canopy and rain, burning through his heavy cloak to raise blisters on his skin. The parasites reacted, twisting and shrieking in his head, his insides a mass of cuts so that he spit blood. He pushed some of them from his body through his pores. He found that if he didn’t relieve the number, the whispers grew louder and the torment impossible to ignore. He had to incinerate the writhing mutated leeches before they slipped into the ground and tried to find a way back to their masters.

He moved the vegetation on the ground to cover all signs of the grave. The jaguar-men would come back to remove all traces of their species, but they wouldn’t find her. She would rest far from their reach. It was all he could give her. With a small sigh, Dominic checked one last time, making certain his chosen spot looked pristine, and then he shifted once more, taking the shape of the eagle. He needed to find where the victorious jaguar had gone.

It didn’t take long for the sharp eyes of the eagle to spot his quarry several miles from the site of the battle. He simply followed the sounds of the forest, the creatures warning one another of a predator close by. The eagle slid noiselessly through the tree branches and settled on the broad limb high above the forest floor. The monkeys howled and shrieked warnings, calling to one another, occasionally throwing twigs down at the large spotted cat weaving its way through the brush toward some unknown destination.

The jaguar was female, her thick golden fur spotted with dark rosettes and, in spite of the rain, blood. She limped, slightly dragging her back leg where the worst of the lacerations seemed to be. Her head was down, but she looked lethal, a flow of spots sliding in and out of the foliage, so at times, even with the eagle’s extraordinary eyesight, it was difficult to spot her against the vegetation of the forest floor.

She moved in complete silence, ignoring the monkeys and birds, moving at a steady pace, her muscles flowing beneath the thick fur. So intrigued by her dogged persistence in traveling in spite of her severe injuries, it took several minutes before he realized the hideous whispers in his mind had eased significantly. All the times he had drained off the parasites to give himself some relief, he had never had them cease their continual assault on his brain, yet now they were nearly silent.

Curious, he took to the skies, circling overhead, staying within the canopy to keep out the last rays of the sun. He noted that the farther he was from the jaguar, the louder the whispers became. The parasites ceased activity the closer he got to her, so that the stabbing shards of glass cutting his insides remained still and for a short time he had a respite from the brutal pain.

The jaguar continued to move steadily into deeper forest, away from the river, going into the interior. Night fell and still she traveled. He found that he couldn’t leave her, he had no wish to leave her. He began to equate the strange calming of the parasites with her as well as the even stranger emotions. The rage had subsided into an unrelenting sorrow and anguish. His heart was so heavy with a burden he could barely function as he moved overhead.

Below, large limestone blocks appeared, half buried in the soil. The remnants of a great Mayan temple lay cracked and broken, trees and vines nearly obliterating what was left of the once-impressive structure. Scattered over the next few miles were the remains of a long-ago civilization. The Mayans had been farmers, growing their golden corn in the middle of the rain forest, whispering with reverence of the jaguar and building temples to bring sky, earth and the underworld together.

He spotted a sinkhole and beneath it the cool waters of the underground river. The jaguar continued without pause until she came to another Mayan site, although this one had been used more recently. The thick growth of tangled vines and trees put the date nearly twenty years earlier, but clearly there had been more modern houses here. A generator long since rusted was wrapped with thick lianas and shoots of green. The ground wept with the memories of battle and the slaughters that had taken place here. The sorrow was so heavy now, Dominic needed to ease the burden. The harpy eagle flew through the canopy a distance away from the jaguar and remained motionless, just watching, as the jaguar made her way through the ancient battlefield, as if she were connected to the dead who wailed there.