Dark Blood (Dark Series Book 26)

by Christine Feehan

  The ground shifted, a jarring warning that stopped nearly everyone in their tracks. Even the few remaining hellhounds paused uneasily. Xaviero walked out of the protective circle, unbending, unafraid, a blue light glowing around him. His brother came from the other side, just as impressive, wrapped in that same mystique that set them apart from the rest of the world.

  They kept to the shadows, making no sound at all, yet commanding the attention of every combatant. The hellhounds rushed to them, slinking low, like pets who had been beaten but were at the command of their masters. Both mages waved their hands and a candle on either side of the triangle they formed with the fire leapt to life, the flames flickering blue to match the center of the larger blaze.

  The ground trembled a second time, a great crack zigzagging through the center of the triangle Xaviero, Xayvion and the fire formed, in the exact center of power between the trees the two had prepared in advance. Soil erupted into a geyser and then collapsed in on itself, forming a sinkhole several feet in diameter.

  The candles on either side of the triangle leapt in glee, the flames turning blue to answer the blue crystals both mages scattered on the ground surrounding the sinkhole. A blast of heat rose from below, as if a great volcano lurked just beneath the surface. The fog above their heads reflected an orange-red hue cast from the melted rock deep in the sinkhole.

  A hush fell over the battlefield. Both mages stepped out of the shadows, ringed by the hellhounds to guard them as they performed their ritual. Dressed in purple robes, they lifted their arms and opened them wide. In complete synchronization, the two chanted the foulest of dark magic, demanding the gates of hell be opened.

  I call to the devil of black rock’s depth,

  Let these souls travel the devil’s spine.

  Let them be the offering to all that is dark,

  So that none may undo this time.

  Let these souls serve as fodder,

  As hunger feeds.

  Let their blood seal the bond,

  Let their blood seal this need.

  Branislava winced at the demonic, vile incantation, the deal they were making. They ordered and cajoled. They commanded and yet supplicated. The arrogance of the two mages shocked her. What they would bring back from the dead would be far worse than what Xavier had been. She shuddered thinking of the reign of terror he would provide. The mage voices rose in volume as they continued with their bid to free their brother.

  Each soul I send,

  I exchange for life.

  I sign with you now with blood and life,

  From this day forward I am bound to serve.

  Be ever to be immortal,

  For what has been served.

  From spirit and blood, flesh and bone,

  I sign this pact now with immortality won.

  Xaviero gestured toward the fire, crooking his little finger, summoning their offering. The prisoner was wrapped from head to toe in silver chain. A tall, broad-shouldered Sange rau dragged him from behind the fire and shoved him into the triangle so hard he fell facedown in the dirt. The Sange rau moved back quickly, clearly not wanting to get too close to the mage. With no hands to stop him, the prisoner’s face buried itself in the grime. He lay unmoving for a moment, no sound escaping. Very slowly he turned over and in spite of the chains, managed to get into a sitting position.

  Zev’s heart stuttered. Went still. Branka. That is my grandfather. That’s Hemming. I would know him anywhere, even though the silver has burned into his skin and he’s been tortured beyond endurance. That’s Hemming.

  Don’t move. Don’t speak or draw attention to yourself in any way, Branislava cautioned. You are alpha. Above all matters. He cannot feel your emotion or he can draw more power from it. Your grandfather carries your grandmother’s blood. He is now mixed blood as you are, and he is a strong Dark Blood.

  Zev hadn’t really considered that. He’d been told by the Carpathians that he was of the Dark Blood lineage many times, but he never really understood what it meant. He thought of himself as Lycan. If he considered himself Carpathian at all, it was as a brother to Fen and Dimitri. Now, with his grandfather chained and about to be slain so Xavier could have his body and his spirit could go to hell in exchange, he realized that all along, it was this the mages had been looking to do.

  They wanted the body and blood of a Dark Blood, and his grandfather had probably walked right into their trap. He had gone looking for those who had murdered his mate. One by one he had hunted them down. Of course Xaviero would have heard the rumors. It would have taken little effort to lure Hemming to him.

  They can’t have him, Zev said, absolute determination in his mind and voice.

  Of course they can’t. We’re close to tearing down his powerhouse, but it takes time to unravel what he’s wrought. Inch your way to the weakest side, the side of the fire. He won’t be expecting an attack from that side, Branislava advised.

  Because it’s impossible. The fire is so hot it’s melting anything within several feet of it. He’s burning blue flames inside of it. My body can’t withstand such a temperature, Branka. I’ve tried regulating it, but he has magic in that fire.

  My love—her voice overwhelmed him with tenderness—trust me. Wrap yourself in me. My spirit is woven to yours. My body belongs to you. My soul is the other half of yours. I am fire. Cloak yourself with my dragon scales and in darkness make your way to your grandfather. It can be done.

  You should have been a general, mon chaton féroce. He had much to learn about being Carpathian. His woman was brilliant.

  Fen. Dimitri, he said. Step slowly in front of me. Slowly, so you don’t draw the attention of either of the demon brothers.

  Fen moved first, gliding without seeming to, his body coming in at an angle to allow Zev to slip behind him. Dimitri immediately shifted his weight from one leg to the other, effectively blocking Zev from sight. Instantly Zev shifted, going completely invisible. He moved through the crowd with stealth, careful to keep from alerting a hound or making one of the remaining Sange rau nervous.

  He realized the packs had done a tremendous job in bringing down the mage’s army. There were very few of the Sange rau left alive. The mages had given the illusion that there were many more, but he counted no more than a dozen left, including the one who had shoved his grandfather into the dirt.

  Zev conveyed the information to Fen and Dimitri. They would spread the word and the Carpathians would make certain they were in a good position to take down the remaining Sange rau if need be. He hoped if they managed to kill the mages and destroy their plan, the mixed bloods would understand what and who they had worked for. Perhaps they were under some kind of spell. They certainly weren’t members of the Sacred Circle, although one or two of those he’d killed, he recognized from meeting them in their packs. They’d definitely started out as Lycan.

  He inched his way through the crowd, staying as low to the ground as possible, winding his way without form toward the fire. Even without his body he felt the terrible melting power of the blue flame. He knew as he approached it that that flame was part of the power grid Branislava and the others were trying to take down.

  Zev wrapped his body in his lifemate, feeling her dragon scales close over his skin, those fiery protective scales that warded off even the heat of a magical blue flame. He sent her the overwhelming love he felt for her, his faith in her, and most of all his gratitude for her. Even in the middle of her working at destroying Xaviero’s web of power, she enfolded him in love. He was not going alone through that fire.

  He wore the red-gold scales like a long hooded coat of armor. He moved slowly even though he felt the fierce heat. The scales reflected the hot blue flames back away from him and he found he could actually breathe as he inched his way toward his grandfather.

  For the first time he was truly grateful for his mixed blood. With those silver chains, Hemming would never be able to run. He would have to sling him over his shoulder and carry him away from that triangle and the fear
some opening in the ground. He couldn’t look into that hellhole.

  As he neared his goal, Xaviero stood over Hemming, his ceremonial knife held high in his hand. The knife was much larger than he had ever seen in a ceremony, looking more as if it could kill a huge animal, much less a man. Runes danced across the silver blade, continually moving as if thirsty for the blood of the Dark Blood the mage intended to murder, yet not sever his head, preserving the body for Xavier.

  Hemming didn’t try to move away, nor did he look away from Xaviero. The silver chains had to be agony, burned so deeply into his skin Zev could barely make out that there was actually skin left on his grandfather. The prisoner was fully aware of his surroundings and the intentions of the mage, but he didn’t blink, staring defiantly at Xaviero as he chanted, his voice rising with Xayvion’s.

  The four women had cast their circle of protection right under the noses of the mages’ watchdogs. Each time a Sange rau or a hellhound got near them, Daciana’s pack, along with Tomas, Andre, Lojos, Mataias and Razvan, kept them back. Fen, Dimitri or Zev had come in to finish the job of taking down any threat to the women.

  Branislava lifted her arms, uncaring that either of the mages or their sentinels might spot her. It was now or never. Tatijana, Skyler and Ivory followed her actions.

  Alder, battle witch, heed to my call,

  It is time for battle, evil must fall.

  Cedar known as the tree of life,

  I call to you now as the gates of hell come to life.

  The four women joined their power, merged minds and became one single entity, one heart and goal—to stop the mage from his dark deeds.

  Blackthorn straif, Dark Crone of the woods,

  I have need of your power, stand and slay that which must be undone,

  Ancient oak Dagda,

  Dominion of power I call to you now, feast on this blackest of powers.

  Now, Branislava whispered into his mind. Hurry.

  Zev didn’t hesitate, trusting her. The flames of the two candles flickered, leapt and then died. The four remaining trees that helped formed the inverted pentagram each began to change, starting in their root systems. A healthy mottled bark replaced the sickly white color from the ground up the tree to the reaching branches, and finally the leaves turned silvery green.

  Zev burst into the triangle as the source of power faded, careful not to touch the mage, but literally snatching the chained body out from under the knife plunging downward toward the heart. He rolled with his grandfather, away from the mage and out of the triangle, coming to his feet and shifting Hemming’s body over one shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

  The hellhounds reacted, snarling and charging him, their speed utterly incredible. Zev ran at them, closing the distance between them every bit as fast. When he was just feet from the massive beasts, he hurdled them, using the strength from his mixed blood, the Lycan’s ability to spring and the distance and speed of the combination of species.

  Fen and Dimitri closed ranks, facing the hellhounds chasing Zev. Covered in battle wounds, slashes and fierce bites, Andre, Tomas and Lojos joined them while Mataias dropped back to protect Zev as he carried his grandfather’s body back to the circle of protection the four women had cast around them.

  The blue flame in the fire sputtered and faded, was consumed by the rich red gold of the natural flames. At once the color of the smoke changed, and the fire itself died down so that the flames weren’t reaching for that unhealthy bank of fog overhead. As the white smoke mingled with the black and eventually devoured it, the dense wall of fog began to break up into smaller, ragged patches.

  The wall of foul fog surrounding the clearing, making it impenetrable, thinned as a cooling wind began to blow through it. The spirits trapped in the unnatural smoke drifted into the purified smoke, rising upward toward the clouds where the wind took them.

  Xaviero roared with rage as molten lava burst from the hole in the ground. The smell of sulfur claimed every other scent, drowning out even the smell of blood. For one moment voices could be heard. Wailing. Shrieking. Demonic. The lava rained down inside the triangle, forcing Xaviero and Xayvion to flee the safety of their refuge.

  The four women turned as one unit to face the fleeing mages. Xaviero threw his hands in the air, tracing a pattern of destruction, twisting the raining lava into fireballs of magma and hurling them toward his enemies. As one, Branislava, Skyler, Tatijana and Ivory flung up their hands, tracing symbols and chanting softly under their breath to turn the firebombs into harmless rain.

  The earth shook violently, throwing everyone to the ground. Once. Twice. A third time. One lone spirit shot close to the surface, hovered there in the fading smoke, mouth gaping wide in a silent scream of protest. His hollow eyes stared accusingly. It wasn’t difficult to recognize Xavier as he tried desperately to escape.

  Ivory stepped forward, pushing air at the smoke, clean, crisp, fresh air, right into the middle of the apparition. There was no malice on her face. No hatred. Just acceptance of what had to be done.

  I call to wind chaos and destruction,

  Phlegmatic energy of air,

  Blow through that which is shadow,

  Dispersing all with marked protective care.

  The face distorted grotesquely. Small holes appeared, the wind drifting through the mask almost sedately. Xavier hovered there, reaching through the smoke toward his brothers. Both took a step toward him as if they could yank him out of the abyss. Something reached up from below and hooked wicked claws into the smoke, yanking the spirit below. Xavier’s desperate wail hurt their ears, and then the earth slammed shut with a decisive crash.

  Xaviero slowly lifted his gaze to the women. Hatred was in every line of his face. His mouth pulled back in a snarl. He lifted his arms to the sky and then made a throwing gesture. A large, spinning rock with crystal spikes burst from the earth and hurtled toward them.

  Skyler pushed air at the rock, stopping it before it could strike. You are too old to be throwing a childish tantrum, she chided. We are daughters of the Earth. Do you think our mother would allow you to harm us? Choose another weapon, this one will not work.

  The rock dropped harmlessly to the ground. She didn’t fling it back at him, or send it smashing into the hellhounds ringing him. She just let it drop, showing no animosity toward him whatsoever.

  His anger grew to a festering rage. You, Xaviero hissed at Skyler. You are the child that should never have been born. The child of every species. Mage, Jaguar, Carpathian, Lycan and human. Your mother deceived us. She was too powerful and had to be killed. We couldn’t risk her coming against us as she eventually would have. And yet our brother stupidly used Razvan’s body to impregnate her. His mistake. His ultimate mistake.

  Skyler stared into his eyes, unblinking. Unafraid. Her mother had warned her to stay away from the mages, to hide who she was and her abilities, but she was no longer that helpless child and she never would be again. You did not frighten my mother nor do you frighten me. I pity you with your grandiose schemes and desperate need for control. You have nothing, and you are nothing.

  Your mother was nothing. She crawled before us, a child we created. Mage, Jaguar and human for our purposes. Ours. She danced to our tune. She was no more than a puppet, he screamed.

  Skyler recognized that he was trying to anger her. That he was using her mother’s past to fuel her temper so he could use that against her, twist her emotions into something ugly. She shook her head. You feared her power and her goodness or you wouldn’t have wanted her dead. Again, I’m sorry for you. She lifted her hands into the air and began sketching a pattern.

  For those who lost will,

  Let it now be returned,

  Taking back their power,

  So freedom may be earned.

  Your evil will not prevail.

  These men no longer belong to you,

  Just as my mother never belonged to you.

  Most of the mixed bloods who had served Xaviero stopped fighting abruptly, l
ooking confused and disoriented. A few sat down and buried their faces in their hands.

  Xayvion slipped into the shadows. Brother. Leave with me now. We cannot defeat them.

  They are women. Nothing. Xaviero spit on the ground. These warriors cannot touch me, the hellhounds obey. I will kill all four of them.

  Brother. I entreat you. Leave now. Xayvion’s voice faded.

  Sputtering, his face red, Xaviero stomped hard on the ground, and then threw two crystal spheres he produced from the pockets of his robe into the hollows he’d made in the dirt. Furious that his brother would think the women, even combined, could wield more power than the two of them left him wanting to tear the four hated women apart limb by limb.

  Water bubbled up from the indentations his heels had made, shot into the sky and then rained down over the four women, an acid rain that threatened to consume them.

  Tatijana shifted partially into the blue dragon, her wedge-shaped head lifted to the sky, mouth open while her hands followed a complicated pattern.

  Waters chemical, acid rain,

  I drink your strength having no pain.

  You quench my thirst, revive my will,

  I transmute this water making it evil’s swill.

  When the last drop was gone and Xaviero stood gaping at her, she shifted back and smiled almost gently at him. You taught me that trick when I was ten years old. Have you forgotten? My dragon is a water dragon and you used me, forced me to consume acid rain. My dragon seems to have developed a taste for it. She smiled serenely and gave the mage a small salute.

  Xaviero whirled around, ignoring the scattering hellhounds who howled like lost souls, uncertain what he wanted them to do. They began snapping at one another. Two went down in a fierce fight while the others rushed to bite and claw the combatants.

  So intent on destroying the four women he blamed for thwarting his plan, Xaviero appeared not to notice. He continued spinning, his robes flaring out in a wide circle, scattering sparks over the ground. Blue flames burst from his fingertips, so that he looked as if he was circled by one long, continuous blue flame. He produced a wild wind that fanned the dying flames of the pyre into a fearsome conflagration.