Dark Prince (Author's cut special edition) Page 19

  “It’s already too late.” Jacob’s voice was whiny. “Only a couple of hours until the sun goes down. It will take an hour just to get there.”

  “Not if we hurry. It’s trapped in the ground,” Hans insisted. “By tomorrow it will be gone.”

  “I still think we should wait for Eugene and the others,” Jacob complained. “They have experience.”

  “We can’t wait,” Harry Summers decided. “Hans is right. The vampires know we’re after them and are probably moving their coffins every day. We can’t miss this opportunity. Gather the tools quickly.”

  “I still think that Dubrinsky guy is one of them. Raven is completely under his spell. Shelly told me they were engaged,” Jacob protested.

  “I am certain of it, as was my father before me. I am convinced he was a young man when my father was born,” Hans said grimly. “He’s most likely the head of the vampires.”

  “I tell you, it is not so.” Margaret was adamant.

  “It is strange, the effect he has on women, and the lengths they go to protect him,” Hans said suspiciously, effectively silencing the older woman.

  Raven could hear the sounds as the assassins gathered their deadly equipment. Had Hans and Jacob convinced Harry Summers to kill Mikhail? Or another of Mikhail’s people? She rolled off the bed and dragged on clean, faded jeans. As she dressed in thick socks and hiking boots, she sent a call to Mikhail. Again she found a black void.

  Muttering a few choice swear words, Raven jerked a soft powder-blue chambray shirt over her head. She didn’t know the local police or where to find them. And who would believe there were vampire hunters anyway? It was ludicrous. Father Hummer? He certainly couldn’t chase around the mountains at his age.

  “I’ll put this stuff in the cart,” Jacob was saying.

  “No! It will be faster on foot. We can cut through the forest. Put it in the knapsacks,” Hans insisted. “Hurry, hurry, we don’t have much time. We must go before they waken and are at full strength.”

  Raven looked around the room hastily for a weapon. Nothing. When she helped the FBI with a case, the agents accompanying her had carried firearms. She took a deep calming breath, kept tuned to the group as they left the inn.

  There were four of them for sure, Margaret, Harry, Jacob, and Hans. She should have suspected Jacob. The night she had attempted to eat dinner with them, she had been so sick, she should have realized it was her body’s natural reaction to the demented minds of killers. She had put it down to an overload of emotion after everything that had happened to her.

  Yet Jacob had touched her. He couldn’t have taken part in Noelle’s murder, or Raven would have known. Harry and Margaret might have convinced him there were vampires around. There was no doubt they were fanatical, dangerous people. Raven knew Shelly wasn’t involved. She was sitting on her bed, writing her papers for school. There might be a chance to appeal to Jacob, make him realize just how insane a vampire hunt was.

  Catching up the dark glasses, Raven slipped out of her room and moved noiselessly down the hall. It was necessary to guard her thoughts and emotions with Margaret Summers close by and on the hunt. Since knowing Mikhail and using telepathic communication with him, Raven was finding it easier and easier to focus her talent.

  She waited until the group had disappeared onto the path leading into the forest. Her heart jumped, nearly stopped for a moment, and then began to pound. Her mouth went dry. The path led to Mikhail’s home. She was certain it was the same footpath he had used the first time he had taken her to his house. He was helpless, wounded, in a drug-induced sleep.

  Raven began to jog, careful not to catch up with the assassins or get too close. She would defend Mikhail with her life if need be, but she wasn’t overanxious for a confrontation if she could avoid it.

  Darker, more ominous clouds floated across the blue sky. The wind began to pick up, just enough to signal a slow-approaching storm. Leaves blew across the footpath in a steady stream; lighter branches swayed and dipped as she passed.

  Raven shivered in the cooler air, fear clutching at her. Mikhail! Hear me! She sent the imperious demand in desperation, praying as she got closer that she might penetrate whatever barriers the drugs his friends had administered to him had erected.

  She heard the sound of ragged breathing and stopped, shrinking back against a broad tree trunk. Harry Summers had fallen behind the rapidly moving group, stopping to catch his breath. Raven watched as he huffed and puffed, dragging air into his lungs.

  They were climbing higher into the mountains. With a sigh of relief, Raven realized they had taken a fork in the footpath and were now moving away from Mikhail. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks and began to pace behind Harry. She moved with the stealth of one of Mikhail’s wolves, astonished that she could do so. Not a twig snapped beneath her feet, not a single rock rolled. If only she had their strength. She was so weak from lack of food, and terribly exhausted from lack of sleep.

  Raven lifted her chin. These people would not commit another senseless murder. It didn’t matter that the intended victim was not Mikhail—she had to try to prevent whatever they were going to do. Harry was slowing her down, resting every few minutes. She considered slipping through the trees and getting ahead of him, but that would put enemies both at her front and her back.

  Half an hour later Raven glanced anxiously up at the sky. There were thick stands of trees in places, long stretches of meadow in others. That forced her to slow down even more.

  She didn’t dare get caught out in the open. And now the wind was increasing enough to send splinters of cold blasting through her. In her haste to follow the group, she had forgotten her jacket. The sun was still a good hour from sinking, but the gathering clouds had dimmed its light. Storms often gathered quickly in these mountains and raged for hours. Over the next ridge, Raven halted abruptly.

  A meadow spread out before her, covered in green grass, beds of herbs, and fields of wildflowers. A house was tucked into the trees, surrounded by lush bushes. Harry had joined the others a yard or so away from the house, circling an area of ground. Harry held a wooden stake in his hand, Hans, a heavy hammer. They were chanting, sprinkling the ground with water from an urn. Jacob was clutching a shovel and a pickax.

  The first wave of nausea hit Raven, then a peculiar sensation, a wave of pain starting in her lower back, spreading around to her abdomen, tightening every muscle. Not her own pain. It belonged to another. She tasted fear in her mind, her mouth. Desperation. Raven was locked mind to mind with another. She needed to get to the surface so her baby could be born, or her baby would die.

  “It’s the devil’s harlot, she gives birth,” Margaret screamed, her face a mask of revulsion and hatred. “I feel her fear. She knows we’re here, and she’s helpless. Dig! Dig fast.”

  Jacob sank the pickax deep into the soft earth. Hans began a frenzied digging. The terrible clinking of metal on rock sickened Raven. It provided background music for the depravity of their fanatical minds.

  Raven imagined she could hear the very earth scream in pain and outrage. She fought for a calming breath. She needed a plan. The woman must be caught in one of the many mineshafts crisscrossing the area, or an underground cellar of some kind. She was in pain, in labor, afraid for her life and the life of her unborn child. She was broadcasting her fear and pain so loudly, Margaret was gleeful, reveling in the woman’s terror.

  Raven caught the mental footprints, followed them, blocking out everything else and concentrating on bringing the woman into focus. She waited until the contraction subsided and very gently sent a probe.

  The woman with the assassins can hear your thoughts, feel your pain and fear. Guard yourself and any communication with me carefully, or we’re both in danger.

  Shock—then nothing. Tentatively the woman responded. Are you one of them?

  No. Are you trapped? They’re digging up the earth.

  Panic, fear, then the emptiness while the woman struggled for control. I do not want my b
aby to die. Can you help me? Us? Please help us! Another contraction seized her, took her into its grip.

  “She’s trying to contact someone!” Margaret shrieked. “Hurry!”

  Mikhail! We need you! Raven sent the call hopelessly. What was she going to do? She was too far away to get help, the authorities, a rescue team. She needed someone, anyone, to help her figure out a way to save the woman and her unborn child.

  I must surface, the woman said in despair. I cannot allow my baby to die. My lifemate will attempt to fight them off while I give birth.

  They will kill all of you. Try to hang on. Can you hold out for a half hour, an hour? We’ll have help after that. Raven hoped it was the truth.

  They will get to us first. I feel them above me, disturbing the earth. They have death in their minds.

  I’ll try to buy you some more time.

  Who are you? The woman was calmer now, determined to stay in control now that an outside source was working with her.

  Raven took a breath, let it out. What was the most reassuring way to answer? Raven Whitney would hardly inspire confidence. I am Mikhail’s woman.

  The woman’s relief spilled over, and Margaret shrieked again, whipping the men into a digging frenzy. Raven stepped out of the timberline and began a slow saunter boldly across the meadow, humming to herself as she walked. She tried to look as casual as she could, hoping she looked as if she were hiking—something they all knew she liked to do. Harry spotted her first. With her new extraordinary hearing, she heard his curse, his whispered orders to the others. Jacob and Hans stopped work, while Hans looked uneasily up at the sky.

  Raven waved to the group, flashing an innocent smile. “Hi, everybody. What are you doing? Isn’t it beautiful up here?” She turned around in a circle, arms outstretched. “The flowers are brilliant, aren’t they?” she continued gushing. She was very careful to keep a good distance between them. “I’m so mad I forgot my camera.”

  The four assassins exchanged nervous, guilty looks. Margaret was the first to recover, sending Raven a serene, welcoming smile. “How lovely to see you, dear. You’re a long way from the inn.”

  “I thought a hike and some fresh air would be good for me. Are you hiking, too?” Raven didn’t have to pretend to shiver as she ran her hands up and down her arms to warm herself. “It looks like we’re in for another storm. I was just thinking of turning around when I spotted all of you.” She turned her head toward the rambling stone house. “I would love to live this far out in the mountains, surrounded by nature.” She looked directly at Hans, smiling guilelessly. “Your place is wonderful. You must love it up here.”

  They all looked confused and guilty, as if they had no idea what to do. Jacob was the first to recover. He dropped his pickax and started purposefully toward her. Raven’s breath caught in her throat. She was as indecisive as they were. She didn’t dare run and give herself away, but she didn’t want Jacob to get his hands on her either.

  Raven stepped back, allowing the smile to fade from her face. “Have I interrupted something?”

  At that moment the woman trapped beneath the earth had another swelling contraction. It rippled through her body like a strong wave, and the woman’s pain radiated out from her. Instantly Margaret locked eyes with Raven.

  There was only one thing to do, and Raven did it. Gasping in horror, she ran forward toward the group. “Oh, my God! There’s someone trapped in a mineshaft and she’s in labor! Margaret! Is that what’s happening? Has someone gone for help?”

  In her headlong flight she deliberately chose a path away from Jacob and toward the left, to the timberline side of the others. She stumbled to a halt on the edge of the digging site. The air was heavy, sluggish, almost difficult to breathe. She recognized a pale version of Mikhail’s safeguards. The pregnant woman’s lifemate must have thrown up a barrier hastily in an attempt to slow the progress of the fanatics.

  “It will be all right,” Margaret reassured calmly, as if she were talking to a child. “That thing down there is not human.”

  Raven’s head came up, blue eyes wide with shock. “Can’t you feel her? Margaret, I told you I have certain abilities. I wouldn’t make up something like this. There’s a woman trapped down there, and she’s having a baby. There are mines all through this area. She must have gotten trapped in one of them. I can feel her fear.”

  “She’s not human.” Margaret walked carefully around the site toward her. “I’m like you, Raven. We are sisters. I know how painful it was for you to hunt the serial killers you brought to justice, because I have done the same thing.”

  Raven swallowed a lump of fear. Margaret sounded so sweet and refined. But she reeked of the sour smell of fanaticism. The faded eyes blazed diabolically with it. Raven’s stomach heaved. Maybe she could reach Jacques. “Margaret, you must feel her pain, her terrible fear. She has to be trapped somewhere in a collapsed mineshaft.” Raven’s mouth was dry, her heart pounding. “You know who I am, what I’m capable of. I would never make a mistake in something like this.”

  Hans went back to work with the shovel, muttering a warning to the others. The wind tugged at their clothing, raked at their bodies. The clouds darkened to an ominous charcoal, began to roil as the wind shrieked through them. Lightning arced from cloud to cloud, and thunder rumbled in warning.

  “This is undead. A vampiress. She feeds off the blood of our children.” Margaret crept closer to Raven.

  Raven shook her head, pressed her hands into her stomach. “You can’t believe that, Margaret. Vampires are pure fiction. This woman trapped down there is very real. Vampires don’t have babies. Come on, Jacob! You can’t believe this nonsense.”

  “She’s a vampire, Raven, and we’re going to kill her.” Jacob indicated the knapsack lying open with the sharpened stakes. His eyes were overbright with anticipation. He looked eager to do the task.

  She backpedaled. “You’re all crazy.”

  Please! Help me! Call him! The desperate cry was edged with terror and pain.

  Raven reacted immediately. Mikhail! Jacques! Help us.

  “The she-devil is calling to her,” Margaret reported.

  Please, call Mikhail. He will come for you, the woman wailed.

  “Stop her,” Margaret screamed. “The vampiress speaks to her, begs her to call for help. Don’t do it, Raven. She tricks you. Don’t call Dubrinsky.”

  Raven spun away from them and took off running, sending out a frantic call into the stormy air for Mikhail, for anyone. She made it into the trees before Jacob caught her, locking on to her legs just below the knees and slamming her hard into the ground.

  The fall knocked the wind out of her, her head spun, and for a moment she lay still, facedown on the forest floor, wondering what had happened. Jacob flipped her over roughly, straddling her, his boyish good looks twisted with lust and the urge for domination. She caught the sickening chemical odor of cocaine emanating from his pores.

  Mikhail. This time she breathed his name in a kind of despair. She sent the call like a prayer, knowing what Jacob had in mind, knowing she wasn’t strong enough to stop him.

  The wind increased. Far off, a wolf howled, and another answered. Farther away, a bear growled irritably.

  “You think you’re so damned smart, selling yourself to the highest bidder, so innocent and untouchable.” Jacob gripped the front of her chambray shirt, jerked hard, and ripped the material right down to her small waist. Her full breasts spilled out, instantly drawing his attention. Roughly he grabbed her, bruising soft flesh.

  I’m sorry. The trapped woman’s cry was edged with guilt. She had failed to guard her mental cries, had allowed Margaret Summers to hear her calls to Raven.

  Mikhail! Please! Raven’s hopeless plea went out again. You must hear me. I need you. God, please help me. Help that poor woman.

  Jacob peered closely at the creamy swell of her breasts. His breath caught in his throat and then exploded from his lungs as he examined Mikhail’s brand on her. He roared and slapped
her once, twice. “He’s marked you. My God, you’re one of them.” His hand closed over her throat, threatening to cut off her air. “He’s impregnated you like the others. I knew it was him. Hans warned me he was the leader, the head vampire.”

  He raised his hand above her, and Raven caught the glint of shiny metal. Jacob stabbed down, his face a mask of fury and hate. Pain sliced low and wicked through her abdomen; blood gushed warm. Jacob pulled the dripping knife and raised it again.

  The earth rumbled, shook, rolled. Jacob’s knife buried deep a second time. The wind unleashed its deadly power, sent leaves, twigs, and small branches flying through the air like missiles. The knife bit a third time. Lightning sizzled once, twice, three times, slammed into the earth as thunder cracked, shaking the land with the unholy sound. The knife found her a fourth time. The heavens opened, and rain poured down hard and fast, as if floodgates had burst.

  Blood splattered up until Jacob was covered in blood. He pushed away from her, turning his head as the sky grew darker. He could hear the others screaming in fear. “Damn you.” He sliced down a fifth time in fury and defiance.

  An unseen hand caught his wrist before the blade could find her, fingers curling hard in an unbreakable grip. The knife turned inward toward Jacob’s throat, and for one long, eternal moment, he stared in horror at the bloodied blade as it inched toward his flesh. It struck suddenly, burying itself to the hilt.

  Wolves boiled out of the forest, circled the meadow, glowing eyes fixed on the three people dodging branches that were hurtling through the air. Margaret screamed and ran. Harry took off blindly, and Hans lost his footing and dropped to his knees as the earth heaved and shook again.

  “Raven.” Mikhail materialized beside her, fear for her clawing at him. He ripped the jeans away so he could see the extent of her injuries.

  The earth rolled again, split the meadow open. Mikhail clamped his hands over the pumping holes in a vain attempt to stem the terrible flow of blood. Jacques shimmered into view, then Eric, Byron. Tienn arrived, and Vlad.