Gail Martin - Dark Haven

Vayash moru, she thought, sensing the presence of the undead. It has to be Uri's brood. Their war is beginning!

Black-clad shapes moved in a blur. One of the figures lifted Casson like a toy, bent his head against the soldier's neck and ripped open his throat in a single, fluid movement. In the dizzying light of the swinging lantern, a guard ran at the black clad figures with a battle cry, sword slashing. One of the vayasb moru stepped forward, easily blocking the sword with his bare forearm, moving his other hand to rip out the soldier's throat with his nails.

Carina heard tables being thrown aside and the women's screams reached a frantic pitch. There was silence, and then the sound of bodies falling to the floor. For a moment, Carina saw four black-garbed figures facing them in the weak light of the single candle. She could hear the breathing of the soldiers and, pressed together as they were, she could sense their

fear. Beside her, Adon kept his grip steady on his knife.

The black figures moved as one, with no sound but the rush of air. Adon gave a strangled cry and stepped in front of Carina. "Adon, no!"

Half-mad with terror and rage, the young man dived at the nearest figure, landing a solid blow with his knife. Carina screamed as the figure casually reached out and grabbed Adon by the forearms, bending forward to press his mouth against the young man's neck. Adon gave a single scream and slumped in the figure's hold.

"She's mine."

Carina wheeled. There was just enough light to make out the figure that strode in through the kitchen door. Dressed in black but wearing no hood, Malesh was smiling. "Greetings, Lady Vahanian."

Carina held her ground. "The Blood Council won't let you get away with this."

"I don't recognize the Blood Council's authority." Malesh walked closer. "Nor do I recognize a mortal Lord of Dark Haven."

Carina swung her staff at him, connecting with full force across his shoulders. The staff snapped, and Malesh laughed. "Did you enjoy the show? After all, you're the reason I'm here." He moved toward her in a blur, grabbing Carina by the upper arms in a painfully tight grip. "You, m'lady, are the key to Dark Haven. Dark Haven must have an immortal lord. I'll make you my immortal lady."

"Why me?"

Malesh's smile broadened. "Because taking you destroys Vahanian."

Malesh drew her close against him in an unbreakable embrace and lowered his mouth against her neck. His lips were soft, seductive, and she fought revulsion as he kissed her throat.

Pain flared as his teeth pierced her skin. Carina gasped. Malesh wrapped his arms around her, crushing her against him so tightly that she could barely breathe. The room around her swam. Her healer's senses screamed a warning in her mind and she knew that she was losing blood fast. Her heart thudded as her body weakened. She felt a wave of vertigo and a growing coldness as her knees buckled. Pinpricks of light danced in her vision, and her sight blurred.

Malesh eased her to the floor, and slid up one sleeve of his coat, exposing his forearm. With a single slash of his nail, he opened a vein and pressed it against Carina's lips. He forced her jaws open, yanking her head back by the hair as drop after crimson drop fell into her mouth.

Jonmarc, forgive me.

"WHAT DO YOU mean, she rode to West-ormere?"

Neirin flinched. "She took ten guards with her, m'lord. They left before noon, fully intending to be back before sunset. If the village was as sick as the young man said, an afternoon might not have been enough."

"Or maybe the entire thing was a set-up. We don't know who the messenger was, or whether someone put him up to it." Jonmarc warred with himself over what to do. Ride for Westormere, and he and his men might ride into a trap-or merely incur Carina's ire by meeting her group on the road back. Wait for dawn, and they would be too late if the messenger had been a ploy.

"M'lord! Open the door!"

Vahanian drew his sword and cautiously went to open the door. A runner stood in the doorway, his eyes wide and his cheeks red with the bitter cold. "M'lord! A vayasb moru just dropped a body off at the main gates. Two of the vayasb moru guards went after him, but they lost him. The body's been drained, m'lord. This was beside it in the snow." The young man held out his hand and opened his fist. Carina's shevir, crushed and twisted, lay on his palm.

"Call up the guard-mortal and vayash moru." Jonmarc said when he found his voice. "We ride for Westormere." He paused, and looked at the runner. "Have the guards tell no one about this. Do you understand?"

The runner nodded, wide-eyed, and left to do as he was bid.

Gabriel met Jonmarc's eyes. "The bracelet doesn't prove that Malesh has Carina. It could even be a copy. If you ride out, you're playing into his hands."

Jonmarc sheathed his sword and reached for his great cloak from the peg on the wall. "I promised her I would always come for her. I'm going to keep that promise."

Jonmarc's soldiers pushed their horses as fast as the snow covered roads would allow. The vyrkin caught up to them just outside the manor, and loped alongside, making the trek seem effortless. The guard rode with swords drawn, on alert for danger, but the forest and

the roads were empty. And as they rode, Jonmarc struggled to quell fear that threatened to rise into panic.

Finally, Westormere came into view. Lights glowed in the windows of the tavern and the houses. It was clear from the snow that Carina's party had traveled this way. Jonmarc chafed at the delay as the group stopped just outside the village gates. A soldier dismounted and warily approached the guard seated in the small gate room. At a distance, Jonmarc could see the soldier speak to the man without success. He gently shook the guard, and the man slipped from his chair to the ground.

At Gabriel's silent signal, the guards spread. Three of them, all vayash moru, kept close to Jonmarc. As they rode into the village, trampled snow and broken windows were at odds with the peaceful image from afar.

"She's likely to be in the inn," Jonmarc said.

The door was splintered, ripped from its hinges. All of the windows were shattered, and shards of glass lay like bits of ice on the trampled snow. Jonmarc felt his heart pound as his boots crunched on the icy steps.

"Sweet Lady of Darkness," he murmured as he stepped into the tavern great room. A ghastly tableau spread before them. Near the fire, three women lounged as if drunk, spilled mugs of ale in their hands, their skirts arranged enticingly as if they were strumpets frozen in a moment of revelry. Their pallor and the bloodstains at the bodices of their dresses told otherwise.

Arranged at the long great room table was a feast. The guards and a young man Jonmarc did not recognize were seated at the table as if about to eat. Carina sat at the head of the table, as unmoving and silent as the others.

With a strangled cry, Jonmarc ran past Gabriel. He pulled back Carina's chair and she tumbled into his arms. She was deathly pale, and her skin was as cold as the snow outside. "No, please, no," Jonmarc murmured, desperately feeling at her throat for a pulse and bringing away fingers bloodied from the two punctures at the base of her neck. "Carina," he whispered, holding her to himself, burying his face in her hair as he sobbed.

"Jonmarc." The voice sounded with compulsion, something Gabriel had never used with him. Now, it broke through his grief.

"Leave me alone."

"She's not dead, Jonmarc."

Jonmarc lifted his head, unashamed of the tears that streaked down his face. "There's no pulse. I can't feel her breath. She's cold as ice."

"Listen to me, Jonmarc. They meant to bring Carina across as a strike against you. But a healer can't be brought across. Whoever did this must have been young in the Gift not to know that. The healing magic won't accept the Dark Gift. My senses are sharper than yours. She isn't dead, and she isn't brought across. There's hope."