Dark Blood
Page 56
She’d seen Xaviero use the technique many times. The safeguard continually moved position, several times in seconds so that it was nearly impossible to detect. Had she not known what she was looking for, she would have tripped his fail-safe.
Stopping this one was a little more difficult, but certainly not impossible. She had watched him, eye open and pressed to the wall of thick ice, so that the distortion, although present, hadn’t prevented her from seeing the intricate motions he had performed, the dance of his hands, so graceful, almost beautiful when he was conjuring a deadly trap. She had been fascinated by the movement, almost mesmerized.
She followed that dance pattern so completely engraved in her mind with the flowing light of her spirit, although she started at the end of his pattern and traced her way to the beginning.
Seven points you have woven,
Seven points I unwind.
With each flash of light,
I unravel, I unbind.
The glimmer shone bright and then dissolved as if it had never been. Branislava took an imaginary breath. She had no idea of time passing, but she could tell what she was doing was draining. An out-of-body experience could drain one’s energy on its own; working at mind games and unraveling deadly traps while fearing the High Mage would come calling left her a little tired.
Almost before she could acknowledge she was growing weary, she felt Tatijana pour strength into her. At once she was revitalized. Once again she moved toward the shadow. She had to do this in careful steps. She couldn’t just take the mage-shadow away without alerting Xaviero. Should he suddenly check on Damon—and she was certain he would—he had to believe all was well and Damon merely slept the normal sleep of Lycans and humans. It was nighttime there and would be believable.
Why would he check on Damon? Zev asked.
He is High Mage, extraordinary and wholly sensitive to any disturbance in his web of evil. He won’t know what is bothering him, but it will be there, like a nagging toothache. He’ll need to check those puppets he sent to this area in order to see if something has happened. He’ll want to rule out those closest to the Carpathians first.
How do you stop him from knowing you’re working at removing his shadow?
By creating his safeguards over me.
She could tell by Zev’s silence he didn’t like the idea at all, but to his credit, he didn’t say anything. She was the expert in this field, and he had no choice but to trust her judgment. This was her most telling moment. She had to move into place above the shadow, very close without touching it, and above and around her put both safeguards back.
Once Xaviero’s safeguards are in place, no one else can give me energy but you, she said to Zev. Only you can supply me through the spirit weave we have. That’s our advantage because it is impossible for Xaviero to detect it. Any of my sister-kin can give you strength, but only you must feed me.
It was almost as if fate or destiny had provided the necessary steps for them, creating a situation where she could fight Xaviero without all the advantages on his side. Keeping her spirit dim, she first wove the outer guard, wincing as she added the darker magic into the white and neutral elements.
She felt ill uttering the foul words, but she used her best version of Xaviero. Mimicking the three brothers had become a skill she and Tatijana had learned as children. Both practiced all the time as they grew up. She had never imagined their game of mocking the triplets would ever be a skill she needed, but she was grateful she was good enough at casting. She believed he wouldn’t recognize her weave wasn’t actually his.
When she was certain the top layer of his safeguard was in place and appeared just as she remembered it, she began to weave the glimmer directly overhead and so close there was barely room for even her spirit to maneuver. She knew she took too long. She had wanted to ensure she didn’t make a mistake and she told herself not to hurry, but the longer her presence remained, along with the use of energy, she knew she would draw Xaviero like a magnet straight to her. He would come oozing out of his darkest hellhole, pouring himself into Damon, a giant venomous snake ready to strike.
She waited, lying low, staying huddled as small as possible, willing Zev to do the same. She should have warned him of the feeling one could get when confronted with pure evil. She didn’t dare reach into his mind, not when she felt the first dark stirrings. How did one describe evil?
The feeling of dread came first, that tingle of awareness creeping with cold fingers down her spine. She felt the physical reaction as if her spirit was still inside her human form. The hair of her body reacted next, standing up. She had been encased in thick ice, entombed there for centuries, and always, she felt any of the three brothers long before they entered the room.
Next came the slimy sensation, as if green sticky oil spread over her skin, coating her, clogging pores and inhibiting her ability to breathe, so that she had to draw in air in short, shallow, ragged gasps, and only when it was absolutely necessary to do so or pass out.
Then the stenches came, a foul odor of complete corruption and decay that once in her lungs refused to leave for a long, long time. She woke in the middle of her slumber at times and still smelled him, so close, as if his bony fingers reached for her, to wrap around her throat, squeezing her last breath, laughing while he did so.
Her heart pounded. Her blood thundered in her ears. He was coming for her. It was really Xaviero. He was alive and he would find her. At once Zev was there, wrapping his spirit around hers, holding her close to him, sheltering her from the terror of such a nightmarish remembrance.
The moment she felt Zev’s strength, the moment his love pushed against those terrifying memories, he drove away the evil smile and foul breath as Xaviero stuck his face so close against hers, watching her face go blue and her eyes go wide as she struggled to breathe. If she could have she would have touched her throat. She hadn’t thought about those times in a long while. So close to him, knowing he was pouring himself into Damon’s mage-shadow in order to see and hear what Damon could might have paralyzed her without Zev so close.
All at once, she felt him. His actual presence was far worse than the heralding of evil. Damon’s mind filled with malevolent, revolting thoughts. She knew instantly why Damon had panicked and wanted the mage-shadow gone. He was a moral man with high values and standards. Xaviero delighted in corrupting anyone good. He pushed immoral and malicious thoughts into Damon’s mind, choosing the vilest, nasty and criminal acts he felt he could lead Damon to do.
She settled low, near the very base of the shadow-mark, praying he wouldn’t find her. He studied his handiwork, his suspicion evident in his close perusal, although he obviously didn’t really expect to find anything. She couldn’t imagine he would ever believe—after having his way for so long—that an opponent would actually find him, let alone challenge him.
Stopping this one was a little more difficult, but certainly not impossible. She had watched him, eye open and pressed to the wall of thick ice, so that the distortion, although present, hadn’t prevented her from seeing the intricate motions he had performed, the dance of his hands, so graceful, almost beautiful when he was conjuring a deadly trap. She had been fascinated by the movement, almost mesmerized.
She followed that dance pattern so completely engraved in her mind with the flowing light of her spirit, although she started at the end of his pattern and traced her way to the beginning.
Seven points you have woven,
Seven points I unwind.
With each flash of light,
I unravel, I unbind.
The glimmer shone bright and then dissolved as if it had never been. Branislava took an imaginary breath. She had no idea of time passing, but she could tell what she was doing was draining. An out-of-body experience could drain one’s energy on its own; working at mind games and unraveling deadly traps while fearing the High Mage would come calling left her a little tired.
Almost before she could acknowledge she was growing weary, she felt Tatijana pour strength into her. At once she was revitalized. Once again she moved toward the shadow. She had to do this in careful steps. She couldn’t just take the mage-shadow away without alerting Xaviero. Should he suddenly check on Damon—and she was certain he would—he had to believe all was well and Damon merely slept the normal sleep of Lycans and humans. It was nighttime there and would be believable.
Why would he check on Damon? Zev asked.
He is High Mage, extraordinary and wholly sensitive to any disturbance in his web of evil. He won’t know what is bothering him, but it will be there, like a nagging toothache. He’ll need to check those puppets he sent to this area in order to see if something has happened. He’ll want to rule out those closest to the Carpathians first.
How do you stop him from knowing you’re working at removing his shadow?
By creating his safeguards over me.
She could tell by Zev’s silence he didn’t like the idea at all, but to his credit, he didn’t say anything. She was the expert in this field, and he had no choice but to trust her judgment. This was her most telling moment. She had to move into place above the shadow, very close without touching it, and above and around her put both safeguards back.
Once Xaviero’s safeguards are in place, no one else can give me energy but you, she said to Zev. Only you can supply me through the spirit weave we have. That’s our advantage because it is impossible for Xaviero to detect it. Any of my sister-kin can give you strength, but only you must feed me.
It was almost as if fate or destiny had provided the necessary steps for them, creating a situation where she could fight Xaviero without all the advantages on his side. Keeping her spirit dim, she first wove the outer guard, wincing as she added the darker magic into the white and neutral elements.
She felt ill uttering the foul words, but she used her best version of Xaviero. Mimicking the three brothers had become a skill she and Tatijana had learned as children. Both practiced all the time as they grew up. She had never imagined their game of mocking the triplets would ever be a skill she needed, but she was grateful she was good enough at casting. She believed he wouldn’t recognize her weave wasn’t actually his.
When she was certain the top layer of his safeguard was in place and appeared just as she remembered it, she began to weave the glimmer directly overhead and so close there was barely room for even her spirit to maneuver. She knew she took too long. She had wanted to ensure she didn’t make a mistake and she told herself not to hurry, but the longer her presence remained, along with the use of energy, she knew she would draw Xaviero like a magnet straight to her. He would come oozing out of his darkest hellhole, pouring himself into Damon, a giant venomous snake ready to strike.
She waited, lying low, staying huddled as small as possible, willing Zev to do the same. She should have warned him of the feeling one could get when confronted with pure evil. She didn’t dare reach into his mind, not when she felt the first dark stirrings. How did one describe evil?
The feeling of dread came first, that tingle of awareness creeping with cold fingers down her spine. She felt the physical reaction as if her spirit was still inside her human form. The hair of her body reacted next, standing up. She had been encased in thick ice, entombed there for centuries, and always, she felt any of the three brothers long before they entered the room.
Next came the slimy sensation, as if green sticky oil spread over her skin, coating her, clogging pores and inhibiting her ability to breathe, so that she had to draw in air in short, shallow, ragged gasps, and only when it was absolutely necessary to do so or pass out.
Then the stenches came, a foul odor of complete corruption and decay that once in her lungs refused to leave for a long, long time. She woke in the middle of her slumber at times and still smelled him, so close, as if his bony fingers reached for her, to wrap around her throat, squeezing her last breath, laughing while he did so.
Her heart pounded. Her blood thundered in her ears. He was coming for her. It was really Xaviero. He was alive and he would find her. At once Zev was there, wrapping his spirit around hers, holding her close to him, sheltering her from the terror of such a nightmarish remembrance.
The moment she felt Zev’s strength, the moment his love pushed against those terrifying memories, he drove away the evil smile and foul breath as Xaviero stuck his face so close against hers, watching her face go blue and her eyes go wide as she struggled to breathe. If she could have she would have touched her throat. She hadn’t thought about those times in a long while. So close to him, knowing he was pouring himself into Damon’s mage-shadow in order to see and hear what Damon could might have paralyzed her without Zev so close.
All at once, she felt him. His actual presence was far worse than the heralding of evil. Damon’s mind filled with malevolent, revolting thoughts. She knew instantly why Damon had panicked and wanted the mage-shadow gone. He was a moral man with high values and standards. Xaviero delighted in corrupting anyone good. He pushed immoral and malicious thoughts into Damon’s mind, choosing the vilest, nasty and criminal acts he felt he could lead Damon to do.
She settled low, near the very base of the shadow-mark, praying he wouldn’t find her. He studied his handiwork, his suspicion evident in his close perusal, although he obviously didn’t really expect to find anything. She couldn’t imagine he would ever believe—after having his way for so long—that an opponent would actually find him, let alone challenge him.
