Ferro. Her soft little protest trembled, but Elisabeta pulled it together for him. Addler is sending two of the newly made vampires to the door of the nightclub. He is watching to see what happens. A couple just drove up in a car. He wants to use them as bait. The vampires will tear them to pieces.
He heard the trepidation in her voice. How many servants does he have left? He knew the master vampires had counted on their servants coming through the city, but the hunters had quietly wiped out most of them.
Only two. He is very upset. He has two servants but also two of the newly made vampires with him as well.
That meant that the Carpathian numbers were growing as the hunters were tracking the last of the servants of the master vampires to the nightclub. That was a plus.
I have Addler in my sight as well as the vampires and the couple. Have stopped the couple from getting out of their car. They are driving away, Petru reported.
All of them felt the buildup of energy in the air as Addler attempted to force the couple to turn around. Both newly made vampires took to the air to fling themselves at the windshield. Petru waved his hand and both dropped from the sky, feathers bursting from their shrunken bodies so that they appeared to be nothing more than two owls. As he did so, lightning forked across the sky and thunder crashed.
* * *
Lightning had been lashing the city for what seemed nearly a quarter of an hour as the storm stalled, bringing heavy roiling dark clouds, thunder and an endless electrical show that kept everyone off the streets. A series of lethal sizzling bolts hit dead center on the roof of the extremely popular Asenguard Nightclub. Sparks flew in every direction, rising into the air, a colorful display rivaling that of fireworks.
Over and over the jagged lightning bolts continued to hit in exactly the same spot. Each hit was precise, as if directed by laser beam.
Elisabeta tried not to wince each time a bolt struck. The weaves of protection held, but that didn’t stop the shaking of the building from the strength of the blow. Each time the rocking was so strong it nearly knocked the three women off their feet.
“That is Cornel, knocking politely,” she announced solemnly as they clung together.
Lorraine and Julija burst out laughing with her. Elisabeta found herself amazed that she could be sharing laughter when the night was lit up with bolts of lightning aimed specifically at the rooftop where the three of them were standing.
“How very polite of him,” Julija said. “I suppose we should be just as eloquent in our response to him.”
Lorraine and Elisabeta automatically stepped back to give Julija room. She was from a powerful Carpathian lineage, but she was also a direct descendant of one of the most powerful mages in the world. She lifted her hands and began to weave her spell, concentrating on that small pinpoint where the tip of the bolt was directed with each strike.
Julija timed her response so that when Cornel slammed his next attack onto that weave of protection in order to penetrate it, her spell countered his. A blue ring whirled around the tip for one brief flash and then rushed up the jagged electrical bolt, seeking the sender.
The strikes abruptly broke off and black smoke trailed through the sky. A thick, noxious vapor poured into the air, smelling of rotting and decomposing flesh.
“Cornel,” Elisabeta said, a little shocked. “Julija, you not only incapacitated him for the moment, but you brought him out into the open.”
“As I meant to do.” Julija spread her arms wide to encompass the sky, taking in as much of the dark, spinning clouds as possible. “I reversed his intentions. It won’t last long but it should give you enough time to find his heart.”
Elisabeta closed her eyes and sent her mind seeking Cornel’s while Julija began to move her hands gracefully, murmuring her powerful spell as she did so. Cornel was stunned almost beyond comprehension. He had no idea what had happened to him and he was incapable of protecting himself. His heart, a black, withered organ he protected by moving it continually around his body, was still for the first time in many centuries while he was awake. She found it near his belly, a shriveled lump. Immediately she directed Julija to the target.
Lorraine held the whip of lightning, ready for Julija’s magic to penetrate the inevitable shields the master vampire would have around him while Elisabeta pinpointed the target with absolute precision. Julija struck at the shields and Lorraine simultaneously sent the bolt of lightning straight at the master vampire’s heart.
The white-hot sword hit an impenetrable shimmering barrier, sending a tower of sparks high into the air, thunder crashing, roaring so loud it threw all three women to the ground. Fireballs rained from the sky, a meteor shower of bright, hot spinning orbs pounding down on the roof, aimed directly at the heads of the three women. A dark shadow swept back and forth over them, wings spread wide, mouth open wide spouting a long, steady stream of fire at them.
“Dorin,” Elisabeta said, trying to get her hands under her to get to her feet. The building kept rocking, as if an earthquake had seized the ground and was desperate to split it in two. “He threw that shield up to protect Cornel at the last second.”
She subsided onto the roof, letting her exhausted body have a reprieve. They weren’t going to get a second chance at Cornel and all three women knew it. He was too intelligent to stay around when his servants had been attacked, the nightclub was protected and he had been injured. He could leave, regroup and fight another day.
Cornel is injured and is near the trees just north of the parking garage. She passed the information on to the hunters. He is trying to escape. Dorin is protecting him along with their combined servants. They have called to Sergey and Ambrus and the other master vampires to leave with them.
The three women sat together, heads back, looking up at the dark, malevolent clouds, linking their minds together, using the pathway through Elisabeta to follow the various battles.
* * *
“Ambrus, I see that you desire to dance with the devil this rising,” Ferro greeted as he strode up the intricate paved walkway leading to the door the master vampire was attempting to open. “I must confess, I thought you had a liking for the forest, as I do. This city is too closed in for my taste, and these buildings feel as if they are nothing but heavy weights hanging over my head where I cannot breathe.” He kept his voice friendly.
Ferro had removed all traces of Elisabeta’s scent from his body. He kept her from his mind on the off-chance that Ambrus had found a way to read Carpathian hunters. He ignored the two servants who pressed close, inhaling deeply, drawing the scent of rich, ancient blood into their lungs as he passed them by. It was very necessary to keep Ambrus and his servants’ attention completely centered on him. He wanted the master vampire confident that he could take him at any time. The vampire had three more servants in hiding, waiting to spring his trap. He would want to kill Ferro before he joined Cornel in what he saw as defeat.
“Ferro,” Ambrus greeted in return. “It is good that it is you. Someone worthy at last. So many with no skills have challenged me in the last half of the century that I thought maybe there were none left.”
Ferro shrugged. “A few. We were in the monastery, but the call came upon us and we had to answer. You know how it is.”
“The call?” Ambrus prompted, gliding a step closer. His eyes had taken on a red glow. His arms dropped low, giving him the appearance of harmlessness, his fingers spread wide, but his nails had lengthened just a tiny bit and sharpened to lethal points. He tapped his index finger on his thigh, a subtle sign few would catch.
“Two women came to the monastery. Both had gifts and were able to tell the brethren that our lifemates were alive in this century. Naturally, we once more set out looking.”
Ambrus lifted one hand to his angular jaw and scratched. “You still believe in such a myth, Ferro? That is how the prince keeps you tied to him. You should know better. I always thought yo
u smarter than that.” The finger tapped again.
Behind Ferro and to his right, a leaf whispered as something brushed against it. Ambrus slid his foot an imperceptible quarter of an inch forward, much like the stalk of a leopard.
“I believe because I did find her, Ambrus. It is no myth. You know Andor found his lifemate. I have found mine.”
Ambrus froze. He shook his head slowly. “This is impossible. Not for one such as you. They say Zacarias De La Cruz also found a lifemate. We all know this to be impossible. It is simply a trick to make us believe the Malinov brothers lied to us.”
“What would I gain by telling you I have found my lifemate?”
A look of absolute cunning crept over Ambrus’s heavy features, giving him that animalistic look that further warned Ferro that this man thought and fought with the skills of both hunter and animal. “It matters little your intention, Ferro. You walked into an ambush and I bid you good luck surviving, although you seem to have proven your skills in battle time after time these long centuries. It will be interesting to see how you fare against my pack of very hungry dogs. I like to keep them on edge so they fight all the harder for their reward.”
Ferro smiled, started to give a small courteous bow, and Ambrus attacked, rushing him. Simultaneously, the master vampire’s two servants converged from either side, talons like the harpy eagle reaching for his belly and eyes to rip and gouge. Three more of the pack leapt down from above, straight at his back and head, their intention to drive him forward onto their master’s fist so he could wrench the beating heart out of Ferro’s chest and be done with the fight before it ever truly began.
Ferro, the bait to draw out the entire pack, dissolved into mist and went down, not up, going low between the legs of the master vampire and coming up behind him. Sandu, Petru, Fane, Aleksi and Dragomir surrounded the master vampire and his pack. The last three ancients, all brethren from the monastery, had arrived to join in the hunt against the master vampires.
Ferro slammed his fist straight through Ambrus’s back. Ferro was a big man and enormously strong. The blow shattered bones and drove through muscle, half turning the vampire toward him. Ambrus tried to reach him with his arms, curling back toward his opponent while all around him his servants fought for their lives against battle-experienced Carpathian hunters.
These were not men concerned with ego or whether or not anyone noticed how many individual kills they made, or even if they fought the most difficult of the vampires. They simply sought to remove the vampire from the world. That was the sole purpose of the Carpathian hunters.
Plants erupted beneath Ferro’s feet, long, hungry, eel-like tubes with teeth, latching on to his legs, attempting to drag him beneath the ground, wrenching at his body so hard the creatures yanked him away from Ambrus, allowing the master vampire to stagger free. Black acid coated Ferro’s arm and hand, eating at his flesh, while the hungry creatures sawed at his legs, continually trying to pull him back toward their wormhole.
Ferro reached toward the sky with his uninjured hand and lightning responded, slamming into the creatures’ bodies right where they emerged from the hole, slicing them cleanly in two. At the same time, he bathed his injured arm in the spray of white-hot energy, cleaning the acid from it, removing the vampire’s blood to prevent it from eating its way to the bone.
As the creatures dropped away from his legs, Ferro snapped the lightning whip at Ambrus’s head, dropping loops of sizzling-hot energy around his neck, leashing him to prevent him from shifting and getting away. With a snarl, Ambrus turned back to face him, the coils of lightning slipping around his entire body, spinning, holding him in place, exposing him as he truly was, not as he preferred to appear.
Rotted flesh hung off skeleton bones. What seemed a fit body was no more than an illusion perfected over centuries. Ambrus might not appear to be as vain as any other vampire, but clearly he wanted to appear to the others as a mountain of a man with a muscular, battle-scarred body. That was worth noting—that Ambrus had included scarring when forging an appearance. He hadn’t made himself as the Astors had, flawless and handsome.
Instead of the long hair of the traditional Carpathian warrior that Ambrus favored, his skull had great scaly patches of some gooey substance that oozed from inside his brain to dribble in a steady stream down his head and trickle out of holes where his ears should be. His eyes were sockets of flaming red. He had no nose, only twin sunken holes, and his mouth was filled with jagged, pointed teeth so stained with blood they appeared black.
Elisabeta, in all the centuries Ambrus has appeared to the Malinovs, has he always appeared as you have seen him? With this image? He showed her the copy of a very fit Ambrus, trying to spare her the true rotted soul of the vampire.
Within the coils of the lightning whip, Ambrus began to sway back and forth, murmuring to himself, his long, bony fingers tapping a rhythm on his thin, emaciated leg.
Always.
As the coils dropped from Ambrus, Ferro flicked his hands casually toward the vampire, surrounding him with mirrors, above him, below and completely circling him. There was nowhere the vampire looked that he didn’t see himself reflected back in his true, hideous state. He stretched his thin lips in a wide protest, screaming in horror, throwing up his arms to cover his eyes while maggots and a wealth of parasites tumbled from his mouth and throat to spew against the reflective glass.
Ferro slammed his fist deep into the chest wall, breaking through the brittle bones without the armor of Ambrus’s woven muscle and dense bone he most likely threaded with other things to make it much more difficult for a Carpathian hunter to get to his heart. His fingers sought the withered organ, but it wasn’t where it should have been.
He has moved it lower, to the base of his spine.
Ferro didn’t hesitate. He withdrew his fist and slammed into him a second time, searching for the heart, fighting to get to it. Ambrus was already recovering from the momentary shock of seeing his true image after centuries of convincing himself of what he looked like. The master vampire leaned forward and bit down viciously into Ferro’s shoulder, tearing great chunks of his flesh from his body, and gulped at them, gulped at the rich, ancient blood that would give him a burst of strength.
The vampire tried to turn his head so he could sink his teeth into Ferro’s neck and get at the jugular. Ferro continuously whirled in a circle, driving Ambrus backward into the mirrors so the glass shattered, driving the shards into the bones, keeping the master vampire from being able to shift or get his bearings. Ferro was too fast and too strong, holding off the vampire’s teeth as his fist dug for the heart against his spine.
Ambrus retaliated, turning his hands into knifelike weapons, plunging them over and over deep into Ferro’s chest, driving straight for the Carpathian’s heart. Ferro heard Elisabeta’s gasp and cut off all contact with her immediately, stoically accepting the pain. It was a battle. Hunters expected to be wounded. They had to be close to extract the heart, and that meant the vampire would be able to rend and tear at their bodies. That was drilled into them from the time they were young boys. It was one of the reasons he didn’t want Josef hunting the undead too soon. The boy might have the courage and the knowledge, but he didn’t yet have the body to be torn into pieces and survive the experience.
The moment Ferro had the heart in his palm he closed his fingers around it and ripped it from the master vampire’s body, turned and flung it high into the air. Lorraine!
It would be the last thing any vampire would expect. Ambrus would try to steal the lightning from him, and he raised his hand as if wielding the whip as it blazed through the dark sky. Lorraine targeted the tiny wizened organ, impossible to see because Ferro had thrown it so high, but tied to him through their soul bond, she tracked that blackened target.
Ambrus triumphantly reached for the sky, hands wide in an effort to snatch the lightning bolt from Ferro, but the sizzling, white-hot whip da
nced through the air, crackling ominously, heading with unerring accuracy right to that tiny object. Ferro dropped his hands to his sides and regarded the master vampire who shook his head in denial, unable to believe what he was seeing. The tip of the whip hit the heart, incinerating it, so that black, noxious smoke billowed up for a moment and then was cleaned in the bright hot burn of the electrical current. Ambrus stood swaying, head tilted toward the sky. He was still standing that exact way when the whip of lightning hit him and he turned to that same black ash, burning until there was nothing at all left behind.
Something heavy hit his body, nearly knocking Ferro down, and he reacted, spinning, catching at one of Ambrus’s servants as he tried to dive into the air to get away from Petru. Ferro blocked the snarling beast of a vampire from the air by throwing his body fully in front of him. The vampire immediately attacked, raking at him with claws and snapping viciously with teeth while hurling dozens of poisonous arrows behind him in an effort to keep Sandu from approaching from that direction.
Most of the lesser vampires were trying to follow Cornel and Dorin in their orders to retreat, taking to the air, but there were too many hunters pulling them out of the sky or tracking them on the ground. There was nowhere to hide. The few that had nearly made it into one of the clubs because a door had been opened had been immediately stopped by one of the hunters inside. The Carpathians had too many experienced warriors waiting for them, an impossibility to fight against. Retreat was the only reasonable solution, and when the vampires tried to flee, they were set upon immediately.
Ferro managed to slide out from under the raking claws as if giving the vampire a way out, and then as the creature redoubled his speed, it impaled itself right on Sandu’s outstretched fist.
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