Dark Blood
Page 95
Dimitri held up his hand for silence. He kept catching small murmurs, sounds, yet the others clearly couldn’t hear. He shook his head and took two steps back as the fog inched closer.
Frost came running from the direction Ivory and Razvan had come at a frantic pace, eyes a little wild. Dimitri held his arms out and the errant wolf leapt for the safety of his alpha’s back.
“There’s something in the fog, moving, talking. I can hear it,” Dimitri told the others. “It’s not only climbing the trees, but as it gets closer to the edge of the forest it’s building height on the ground as well. Let’s get back to the clearing and help get everyone out of there.”
Gregori, get the prince to safety. There is something out here beyond my knowledge, but there is no doubt it is dangerous. Whatever it is, it’s heading your way. It’s moving slow, but hidden within there is something evil. Dimitri sent the warning ahead of them, tasking Gregori with getting their prince to safety.
Gregori Daratrazanoff sighed heavily. Mikhail had attended the honor ceremony for Arno and his son as any good diplomat would. The Lycans insisted, in spite of all the warnings, that the fallen council member had to have a full ceremony, and be sent off with honor. Instead of holding the funeral the following rising, Rolf had insisted on preparing the ground and waiting three days and nights. No amount of arguing had changed his mind.
“You heard Dimitri. I have to get you out of here, Mikhail. Dimitri is warning Zev and he’ll do his best to persuade the Lycans to leave, but you can’t take the chance.”
“Do you know how many times you say that to me?” Mikhail asked with a small sigh.
“You’ve given your speech and paid your respects,” Gregori said. “Already the children were attacked. Had Zev not been Dark Blood, we could have lost them. Our last defense is you. You know that. Better to protect our children than to stay and protect the Lycans when they’re insisting on staying. If things get bad here, we can send reinforcements.”
“What is he up to, this Xaviero? Why would he suddenly reveal himself to all of us? The brothers hid among our different species and did their damage in secret. What is so important that they keep coming at us? Clearly Lycans and Carpathians are not going to go to war with one another. He can’t wipe us out, not here. We’re spread out over the world. We need the answer to this, Gregori. Whatever Xaviero wants is too important for us not to know about it.”
Mikhail rose with obvious reluctance. He signaled Zev over to them. “Dimitri has warned you?”
Zev took a deep breath and let it out, nodding his head. There were very few times when he had clashed with Rolf, head of the Lycan council, but Rolf had insisted on sending off Arno and his son with honor. He insisted on waiting the prescribed three days so those far away could make the journey. That just gave Xaviero all the more time to prepare. After the attack on the children, Zev was absolutely certain Xaviero would strike at the service. He’d been right. He hated being right.
“Yes. I’ve talked to Rolf numerous times and he refuses to listen. I tried to tell Rolf it wasn’t safe for anyone to be here, but he pointed out the large number of Lycans and Carpathians who have come to pay their respects. He thinks there is an army here and no need to leave.”
“Perhaps if I spoke to him again,” Mikhail offered. He had already done so once, after their children had been attacked. Clearly Xaviero was not going to stop until he reached his goal—whatever that was.
Zev shook his head. “This ceremony is ingrained deep in our culture. It’s important to all Lycans and especially Rolf. He is head of the council. Arno is a fallen council member, murdered by an enemy. He will stay here alone if necessary.”
From the moment he’d entered the clearing, Zev had known something was terribly wrong. The feeling in the very soil bothered him. The air. He felt uneasy and trapped. He’d gone to Rolf immediately and tried to get him to at least change the location of the ceremony, but the ground had been purified and the pyre already built.
Zev had argued that the feeling in his gut was never wrong and had kept him alive all these long years—more, that he had expected Xaviero to strike at them. Rolf had actually turned his back on Zev and stormed away, refusing to listen to reason.
“Still, I have to try,” Mikhail said, ignoring Gregori’s slashing silver eyes.
He made his way through the crowd of Lycans to reach the head of the council. A man, one of many who had come that Mikhail had never seen before, was speaking from the podium. He wore a long brown robe with a hood and spoke in a soft, carrying tone. He looked grief-stricken as he spoke of Arno and the fallen elite hunter. Not only did he look devastated, but he projected such sorrow that even Mikhail felt desolate.
He nearly turned back, aware that the Lycans were all grieving for the much-beloved council member and his son, but Gregori was waiting, arms folded across his chest, his silver gaze impossible to ignore. Rolf rose reluctantly when Mikhail gestured to him and they found a small space off to one side.
“Rolf.” Mikhail pitched his voice low. “We’re getting reports of trouble heading this way. The consensus from our most experienced warriors is that we should leave immediately. I agree with their assessment. We need to start getting everyone to safety.”
Swift annoyance crossed Rolf’s face and he glanced over at Zev, as if the elite hunter had been the one to irritate him. His features settled into his usual calm mask when he looked back at the prince of the Carpathian people.
“Zev had no right to ask you to come and talk to me,” he said, his teeth snapping together, revealing the wolf lurking close to the surface.
“He didn’t ask me,” Mikhail countered. “My security people did. Zev explained that this ceremony was important to the Lycans and I respect that. I respected Arno. But you and I are responsible for our people, and I thought you would want to know that time is of the essence. We have to get everyone to safety.”
Rolf’s mouth tightened. “Perhaps you’ve never gone into war zones, but I have many times during my career as a council member for my people. We accept the risks.”
“For yourself,” Mikhail agreed. “But for so many others? Look at the number of Lycans who have come from so many places to pay their respects. They’re in jeopardy as well.”
“Arno served these people for well over a hundred years. He deserves their respect and the honor of their presence. He was a highly decorated and revered member of the Sacred Circle. He believed in the old ways and codes of honor. This was his way. This is his belief. I will not dishonor him because I am afraid for my life,” Rolf said firmly. “Nor will any Lycan. I do appreciate you coming, but this is a Lycan matter and you and your people must do as you see fit. We will stay.” He whirled around and stormed back to his place in the front of the Lycan packs, his shoulders square and his jaw set stubbornly.
Frost came running from the direction Ivory and Razvan had come at a frantic pace, eyes a little wild. Dimitri held his arms out and the errant wolf leapt for the safety of his alpha’s back.
“There’s something in the fog, moving, talking. I can hear it,” Dimitri told the others. “It’s not only climbing the trees, but as it gets closer to the edge of the forest it’s building height on the ground as well. Let’s get back to the clearing and help get everyone out of there.”
Gregori, get the prince to safety. There is something out here beyond my knowledge, but there is no doubt it is dangerous. Whatever it is, it’s heading your way. It’s moving slow, but hidden within there is something evil. Dimitri sent the warning ahead of them, tasking Gregori with getting their prince to safety.
Gregori Daratrazanoff sighed heavily. Mikhail had attended the honor ceremony for Arno and his son as any good diplomat would. The Lycans insisted, in spite of all the warnings, that the fallen council member had to have a full ceremony, and be sent off with honor. Instead of holding the funeral the following rising, Rolf had insisted on preparing the ground and waiting three days and nights. No amount of arguing had changed his mind.
“You heard Dimitri. I have to get you out of here, Mikhail. Dimitri is warning Zev and he’ll do his best to persuade the Lycans to leave, but you can’t take the chance.”
“Do you know how many times you say that to me?” Mikhail asked with a small sigh.
“You’ve given your speech and paid your respects,” Gregori said. “Already the children were attacked. Had Zev not been Dark Blood, we could have lost them. Our last defense is you. You know that. Better to protect our children than to stay and protect the Lycans when they’re insisting on staying. If things get bad here, we can send reinforcements.”
“What is he up to, this Xaviero? Why would he suddenly reveal himself to all of us? The brothers hid among our different species and did their damage in secret. What is so important that they keep coming at us? Clearly Lycans and Carpathians are not going to go to war with one another. He can’t wipe us out, not here. We’re spread out over the world. We need the answer to this, Gregori. Whatever Xaviero wants is too important for us not to know about it.”
Mikhail rose with obvious reluctance. He signaled Zev over to them. “Dimitri has warned you?”
Zev took a deep breath and let it out, nodding his head. There were very few times when he had clashed with Rolf, head of the Lycan council, but Rolf had insisted on sending off Arno and his son with honor. He insisted on waiting the prescribed three days so those far away could make the journey. That just gave Xaviero all the more time to prepare. After the attack on the children, Zev was absolutely certain Xaviero would strike at the service. He’d been right. He hated being right.
“Yes. I’ve talked to Rolf numerous times and he refuses to listen. I tried to tell Rolf it wasn’t safe for anyone to be here, but he pointed out the large number of Lycans and Carpathians who have come to pay their respects. He thinks there is an army here and no need to leave.”
“Perhaps if I spoke to him again,” Mikhail offered. He had already done so once, after their children had been attacked. Clearly Xaviero was not going to stop until he reached his goal—whatever that was.
Zev shook his head. “This ceremony is ingrained deep in our culture. It’s important to all Lycans and especially Rolf. He is head of the council. Arno is a fallen council member, murdered by an enemy. He will stay here alone if necessary.”
From the moment he’d entered the clearing, Zev had known something was terribly wrong. The feeling in the very soil bothered him. The air. He felt uneasy and trapped. He’d gone to Rolf immediately and tried to get him to at least change the location of the ceremony, but the ground had been purified and the pyre already built.
Zev had argued that the feeling in his gut was never wrong and had kept him alive all these long years—more, that he had expected Xaviero to strike at them. Rolf had actually turned his back on Zev and stormed away, refusing to listen to reason.
“Still, I have to try,” Mikhail said, ignoring Gregori’s slashing silver eyes.
He made his way through the crowd of Lycans to reach the head of the council. A man, one of many who had come that Mikhail had never seen before, was speaking from the podium. He wore a long brown robe with a hood and spoke in a soft, carrying tone. He looked grief-stricken as he spoke of Arno and the fallen elite hunter. Not only did he look devastated, but he projected such sorrow that even Mikhail felt desolate.
He nearly turned back, aware that the Lycans were all grieving for the much-beloved council member and his son, but Gregori was waiting, arms folded across his chest, his silver gaze impossible to ignore. Rolf rose reluctantly when Mikhail gestured to him and they found a small space off to one side.
“Rolf.” Mikhail pitched his voice low. “We’re getting reports of trouble heading this way. The consensus from our most experienced warriors is that we should leave immediately. I agree with their assessment. We need to start getting everyone to safety.”
Swift annoyance crossed Rolf’s face and he glanced over at Zev, as if the elite hunter had been the one to irritate him. His features settled into his usual calm mask when he looked back at the prince of the Carpathian people.
“Zev had no right to ask you to come and talk to me,” he said, his teeth snapping together, revealing the wolf lurking close to the surface.
“He didn’t ask me,” Mikhail countered. “My security people did. Zev explained that this ceremony was important to the Lycans and I respect that. I respected Arno. But you and I are responsible for our people, and I thought you would want to know that time is of the essence. We have to get everyone to safety.”
Rolf’s mouth tightened. “Perhaps you’ve never gone into war zones, but I have many times during my career as a council member for my people. We accept the risks.”
“For yourself,” Mikhail agreed. “But for so many others? Look at the number of Lycans who have come from so many places to pay their respects. They’re in jeopardy as well.”
“Arno served these people for well over a hundred years. He deserves their respect and the honor of their presence. He was a highly decorated and revered member of the Sacred Circle. He believed in the old ways and codes of honor. This was his way. This is his belief. I will not dishonor him because I am afraid for my life,” Rolf said firmly. “Nor will any Lycan. I do appreciate you coming, but this is a Lycan matter and you and your people must do as you see fit. We will stay.” He whirled around and stormed back to his place in the front of the Lycan packs, his shoulders square and his jaw set stubbornly.
