Dark Magic (Dark Series - book 4) Page 16

  Gregori smiled at him. There was no humor in that smile, just a white flash of gleaming menace. The cold silver eyes were unblinking, like those of a great jungle cat. Carter found it unnerving. “You disturbed my wife,” Gregori answered softly. His voice was beautiful, hypnotic.

  Carter shook his head to banish the sluggishness from his brain. “Do you really think you’re so powerful that you can get away with killing me?”

  Gregori’s muscles rippled, a hint of his enormous strength. “Do you really think I am not?”

  “I would never have confronted you without support. I’m not alone,” Carter blustered. He was fighting to get the dart gun from his pocket, where it was stuck.

  “There is no one else here, Mr. Carter,” Gregori corrected. “Just the two of us. I thought I might have a look inside your head.” His tone had dropped an octave, was soft and persuasive, impossible to resist.

  Sweat broke out on Carter’s forehead. “I won’t let you,” he objected, but he found himself leaning forward to look into the molten silver eyes. He was supposed to be protected against a mind invasion! All in the society were protected. Vampires’ voices couldn’t affect them; the eyes couldn’t put them in a trance. No one could read their minds or take away their memories. All of them in the society had undergone extensive hypnosis to resist such an abomination. And they had worked on a formula for more than thirty years. Scientists, good scientists, who had the benefit of vampire blood to work with.

  Gregori pushed through the surprisingly strong barrier to inspect the man’s mind. He could see the culmination of the secret society’s research, their eagerness to find a new specimen. They had extracted blood from several of the victims they had tortured and mutilated some thirty years earlier. Gregori inhaled sharply. They had a drug they were certain could be used to incapacitate their victim, so that they could imprison what they believed to be vampire and study and dissect it at their leisure. The society was larger than any of his kind had believed.

  He released the reporter’s mind, deliberately allowing the man to know he had been extracting information. Carter swore obscenely and brought up the dart gun. The needle pierced Gregori’s skin right above his heart. He felt the penetration, felt the instant release of poison into his blood.

  Gregori!

  Savannah’s distressed cry was in his mind.

  Let me come to you.

  She was trying to free herself from the invisible wall he’d erected around her, fighting his safeguards.

  Be calm, ma

  petite.

  You think I did not

  deliberately

  allow this imbecile to inject me with poison? I am the healer for our people. If they have something that can harm us, I must find an antidote.

  Savannah pounded on the invisible barrier to get to Gregori. She could feel the hot tears gathering in her eyes, the terrible fear threatening to overwhelm her at her own helplessness. The poison was painful, crawling through Gregori’s system, paralyzing him. Cramps and sweating, muscles clenching and locking. She felt it with him and raged at her inability to get to him, to be able to help him, as was her right.

  Gregori remained as calm and impassive as ever, studying the chemistry of the compound, as interested as any scientist. He was barely sparing the jubilant reporter any of his attention. He had gone seeking inside his own body, flowing through his own bloodstream to follow the path of the spreading poison.

  Carter was nearly jumping up and down. If it had not been for his precarious perch, he would have. Of course, he had no idea how he was going to get such a big man into the car and back to the laboratory. He would have to call for help. But otherwise it had been so easy. The lab techs were right. The poison was perfect! All those years of research had finally paid off. And he was the one to get the glory!

  He poked at Gregori’s chest with a knife and, drew a spot of blood. “You don’t look so tough now, vampire,” he gloated. “Not so impressive at all. Are you feeling a little sick?” He laughed softly. “I’ve heard the older the vampire, the greater the sensitivity to pain.” He poked again, slicing downward so that he opened a flowing cut. “I hope so. I hope you take a long time to die when the techs get you. Meanwhile, you just remember who will be playing with Savannah. I have plans for that little whore.” He bent close to peer into Gregori’s hooded eyes. “Not that this is personal, you understand. It’s all in the name of science.”

  Savannah’s burst of strength, fed by her rage at the reporter taunting Gregori and causing him pain, landed her against the invisible wall. The foundation didn’t budge. Whatever Gregori had constructed to contain her was stronger than she thought. She pounded until her fists bled, tears streaming down her face. She could feel every cut, every slice the reporter inflicted. She could hear his taunts and threats. She implored her lifemate to allow her to come to him, but silence was her only answer.

  None of it seemed to affect Gregori. He felt the pain but simply put it aside during his self-examination. The poison was thick, moving slowly and painfully throughout his system. He began to break down the chemicals to analyze them so that his people could come up with their own antidote to such a thing. Most of his kind could never do what he was doing. But he was a healer, knowledgeable in herbs and chemicals, poisons both man-made and natural. This was an interesting mixture, fast-acting and dangerous. They had used blood they had taken from their victims for a base. The pain had gone from a dull ache to agony in a few short minutes, enough to incapacitate all but the ancients and their most learned healers. As soon as he had the compounds broken down, he broadcast them to Aidan Savage. The hunter had studied the healing arts under him and would be able to utilize the information.

  Within his own body he began the. healing process, breaking down each chemical to its natural and separate form and disposing of or absorbing it. Only when the process was complete did he return to his outside surroundings. He had been aware of the reporter poking at and cutting him with a knife, presumably to make him weak from loss of blood. He was bleeding from several different cuts. He could feel the sting of them as the wind tugged at his tattered clothing.

  His pale eyes rested on the reporter’s face. “Are you finished, Carter, or is there something else you would like to try before I return you to your laboratory?” he asked very gently.

  The man gasped, realizing the drug was no longer affecting the vampire. He stabbed wildly for Gregori’s heart. In midair the knife stopped abruptly, as if caught by someone with enormous strength. Slowly, inexorably, the tip turned to point straight at Carter’s throat.

  “No, God, no! Don’t do it. I can tell you so much. Don’t do it! Make me like you. I can serve you,” Wade Carter pleaded as the knife inched closer to his jugular.

  Suddenly the knife clattered harmlessly to the ground below them. Instantly Wade fumbled to retrieve the dart gun. But in his hand it lengthened into a hideous scaly shape that began to coil around his arm. Wade screamed, the sound filling the night air and setting the wolves howling in answer.

  Gregori regarded him with impassive silver eyes. The eyes of death. “This is my world, Carter, my domain. You walked into it and deliberately challenged me. You tried to hurt what is mine. I cannot allow such a thing.” He bent his dark head so his unblinking eyes could hold the other man in their thrall, hold him prisoner. “And understand this, Carter—this is very personal.”

  He tossed the other man to the ground easily, uncaring that the drop was dangerously high. The snake coiled itself around the reporter’s body, effectively tying him so that it was impossible to move. Gregori floated to the ground, snagged the man’s shirt, and dragged him through the dirt to his car. “I think we need to pay this laboratory a small visit, do you not, Mr. Carter? You seemed quite anxious for my presence there, and I can do no other than to oblige you and your friends.”

  No, Gregori,

  Savannah pleaded.

  Let’s get out of here. Leave him, and let’s go. Break off from me,
<
br />   bйbй, he ordered and retreated, pulling his mind from hers.

  Savannah could feel his implacable resolve. He had made up his mind to destroy the laboratory, what they had of the drug they had used on him, and all the data on it. He also intended to destroy anyone connected to the society that he found. She could find no rage in him such as she herself felt. No need for revenge. He was cool and ruthless, a machine performing a brutal task for the welfare of his race. Gregori had put aside all emotions and was an anonymous robot set on destruction. He was unswerving, relentless. Nothing could stop him.

  Savannah, trapped in her cube of protection, slid to the floor and drew up her knees. This was his life. This was who he was, what he had become over the long centuries, a dark angel of death to those who declared war on his race.

  Gregori, the Dark One.

  He believed himself a monster without equal. She covered her face with her hands. There was no way to stop him. No way at all. Mikhail, her own father, Prince of their people, the only one commanding Gregori’s loyalty, could not stop Gregori from doing what he deemed right or necessary.

  Her teeth bit into her lower lip. He wielded so much power. There was no other who could have broken down that deadly poison in his own bloodstream. No other who would have deliberately baited a trap using his own body the way Gregori had. She knew the price he paid. She shared intimacy of his mind as well as his body.

  He really could turn off his feelings, leave himself an emotionless machine to do the things necessary to protect his people. But inside, deep within his soul, he believed himself an unredeemable monster. The things he had to do for the preservation of their race required enormous pieces of his soul.

  Chapter Nine

  The night was dark and moonless. Clouds covered the stars and added an air of mystery and menace to the evening. The car pulled up in front of what looked like a deserted warehouse on the bay. There was no one on the docks. The water looked murky, almost oily. Gregori stepped out of the car and listened to the waves slapping at the pier. He scanned the area with the ease of long practice.

  Inside the large building three men talked in low tones. Gregori waved a hand at the reporter, and Wade Carter slumped back behind the wheel of the car, his eyes glazed. The wind stirred, and an eddy of leaves and twigs whirled together in a bizarre dance where Gregori’s solid form had been. Then the night was silent again. Unnaturally so.

  Gregori entered the building through a crack in a yellowed window. He streamed into the room and wound his way through a collection of burners and beakers filled with various chemicals. On the far side of the room were three tables. Bolts of steel held manacles for ankles and wrists. There were three dissecting tables, where the society’s “scientists” could leisurely carry out their experiments on their victims. There was a splash of blood on one of the tables. Gregori hovered over it to examine its composition. To his relief, it was not one of his people.

  In one corner of the warehouse was a bank of impressive computers, high-tech equipment, and rows of file cabinets. Three desks formed a loose semi-circle closing off the area.

  The three men were playing poker, obviously waiting for someone else. He streamed across the table, a cold wind that blew the cards in every direction. The men dived for the flying cards, looking all around for the source of the unexpected disturbance. Uneasily they looked at one another, then back around the large warehouse.

  Gregori summoned Wade Carter to the door. The reporter pushed it open and entered, walking with the familiar gait of a zombie, a vampire’s human puppet, with heavy, deliberate steps, head down, one foot in front of the other. He jerked to a halt in front of the card table exactly as a marionette would. A puppet on strings.

  “So where is he, Wade’?” the largest man, in a white coat, demanded. “You’d better have something important to pull Morrison away from his party tonight. It was a big do—he’s getting funding for his favorite charity.”

  The others laughed. “Yeah—us,” a dark-haired technician added. “Damn, Wade, I hope you brought us a woman. I’m in the mood for some fun tonight.” He cupped himself crudely. “I’ve been looking forward to getting my hands on that magician you claim is a vampire. She’s hot, really hot.”

  The man in the white coat peered at the reporter. “So where’s this vampire’?”

  “Right behind you,” Gregori said softly, gently.

  They whirled around, and his shape shimmered, first that of a man, solid and real, then contorting and crackling, bones and sinew popping as his face lengthened into a muzzle, and fangs filled his hungry jaws. Muscles and fur rippled, and the beast lunged forward, straight at the white-coated man’s throat.

  The man screamed but had no chance to run before the black wolf was on him, tearing at his throat. Splashes of crimson cascaded through the room, a bright arcing fountain. The other two men stood, horrified, frozen in place, unable to look away from the raw, gaping wound that had once been a throat.

  Then, galvanized into action by the sight of the thick, red river of blood, they turned as one and ran for the door. The wolf leapt, crossed the distance easily, and brought down the dark-haired technician. Claws tore at the soft stomach, digging into intestines, but the savage muzzle bore in low and mean, ripping deliberately at the prize. Blood spurted, erupting in a volcanic burst. The man howled horribly, clutching himself far too late to save his life, let alone his manhood.

  The last victim had reached the door when the wolf leapt onto his back. One quick snap of the powerful jaw and the neck was broken. The wolf backed up and surveyed the dead and dying. Then he trotted over to the bank of computer terminals and slowly regained his own shape.

  Gregori’s hunger was a living thing, filling him with need. The dark compulsion of the kill was on him. Beast or man, it didn’t matter; it was his nature, his destiny. But he fought back the hunger, even with the smell of blood all around him. The computers had to be destroyed. Every disk. Every document.

  Gregori gathered himself and began to summon the energy necessary to send bolts of electricity through the machines. They exploded, bursting from their cases, melting into the desks they were sitting on. Behind him the beakers shattered, spilling their contents onto the floor. Flames began to lick greedily at the dry wood. He waved a hand, and the file cabinets tumbled over, the papers they spilled feeding the fire until it danced high and spread throughout the room.

  Wade Carter stood unmoving beside the card table. He didn’t seem to notice his fallen companions or the fire rapidly consuming the contents of the warehouse. Gregori assured himself he had destroyed everything in the laboratory before turning his attention to the reporter. Thick smoke was swirling around them as he took hold of the man and dragged him close.

  Hunger spread and gnawed, became a living, breathing thing. Gregori bent his dark head and found the pulse in Carter’s throat. “You have attempted to condemn my race to death, deliberately tried to bring my lifemate to this place of horror. For that and all your crimes against my people, I sentence you to death.” He murmured the ritual words as his teeth pierced the skin and sank deep into the artery.

  Hot blood poured into shrunken cells. His body, so hungry, his energy and strength drained from his great effort and from his encounter with the poison, embraced the dark liquid of life. He drank voraciously, insatiably. His prey remained still beneath his hands while he drained away the life.

  Gregori, stop!

  Savannah implored.

  You cannot take his life like that. Please, for me, stop.

  Gregori growled, his silver eyes glowing red, reflecting the flames from the fire. Reluctantly he lifted his head, watching impassively as the blood pumped from Carter’s wound and the man slumped to the ground. He released Carter’s shirt, his gaze still riveted on the steady trickle of blood spilling onto the warehouse floor.

  Come home to me. Get out of that awful place.

  He could hear the distant wail of sirens, the murmur of a gathering crowd. Still, he
remained to ensure that the life force was gone completely from each of those in the laboratory. He had a name now, a place to start hunting. Morrison. Someone who could raise funds. Someone who mingled with society.

  Gregori! Come home to me now.

  Savannah was insistent. He could hear the fear in her voice. She had been taught since birth that only a vampire would kill in the act of feeding. It terrified her to think that Gregori might break that sacred rule. That he had done so at some time in his past. More than once.

  Your monster returns,

  he sent back to her in the emotionless voice he almost always used. He became smoke, the dark whirling wind that blew through the burning laboratory, and rushed out into the night air. He allowed himself to drift upward, watching as the humans on the ground raced around hooking up fire hoses. A stretch limousine arrived and parked a short distance away from the warehouse. A rear window slid down partway, but the occupant remained inside. Morrison.

  Gregori drifted higher. He was returning to Savannah his true self, not the fraud he had allowed her to believe in. After his centuries of the hunt, after dispensing dark justice so many endless years, did she really believe he could feel emotion when he killed? Remorse? Vengeance? Mercy? He felt nothing, and he never would. It was simply a job, one he did well, without pride or fear.

  He did not want to see the fear in her eyes. The condemnation. But he could not pretend for the rest of eternity. She had to know him for the brutal monster that he was. Her monster. She had to understand that he was far more dangerous than she thought him, that certain things would not be prudent to do. But he did not want to see the fear once more in her eyes. With a soft sigh he began the journey back toward the mountains. He traveled slowly, smoke on the wind, dispersing the air he moved through evenly so as not to alert the vampires to his presence. He felt the weight of his age, the kills, the blood on his hands. Savannah would look at him and finally see her terrible fate.