Кристин Фихан - Dark Song

Elisabeta, stop this game at once. Come to me .

Where are you? Her voice was very tentative. I do not want to speak to those men or have them touch me. You never allowed it. Never. How do I know it is you?

Ferro found himself smiling. That was a good point. Sergey couldn’t dispute that. Elisabeta was very clever.

I am waiting in the meadow, just as you asked. Hurry. Dawn is approaching and I tire of your tantrums .

Elisabeta allowed her first real, although tentative, excitement to spill into her mind, that Sergey might really be coming for her. Deliberately the leaves rustled by the entrance and she froze. Where are those men? She let fear spill into her voice and mind all over again.

They cannot get to you. Hurry, Elisabeta . Sergey came into view, hovering just above the ground, building safeguards to surround the entire meadow with just a small path for her to travel. They cannot enter. Only you. Step inside and I will close the safeguards behind you. Once I have you, we will leave this place. The one who claimed you will not be able to follow, either .

Sergey’s servants following the elusive shadow of Elisabeta were being tracked by Carpathian hunters. The moment Ferro gave the word, they would be taken down.

Appearing almost small in her cape, although she was tall, like all Carpathian women, Elisabeta looked all around her before she stepped from the shadow of the forest and set foot into the meadow, allowing Sergey to weave the safeguards behind her to lock her there with him.

He beckoned to her impatiently with one long finger. At the end was a wicked-looking nail. “Come to me now, Elisabeta.” He snapped his fingers. “We have to leave this place.”

Ferro shifted as he approached within a few feet of Sergey. Ferro’s appearance revealed the wicked wounds from his battle with Ambrus. His clothes were torn and showed bloodstains.

“I see she called you. She fears a new life, but she will get used to it in time.”

“What have you done with her?” Sergey demanded.

Elisabeta let out a small moan and presented an image of rocking herself back and forth, of being very small, curling into herself as if terrified. Ferro glided a little closer, covering the smallest of limps, one arm tight against his ribs.

Sergey flung up his hand, weaving replicas of himself and sending them spinning in a wide circle around Ferro. The ground shifted and rolled, sending the Carpathian tumbling to his knees. Above their heads, within the safeguards, thunder roared and the swirling black clouds opened up to dump acid rain on them. Sergey moved in fast to kick at Ferro’s chin, determined to knock him on his back so he could more easily extract the heart. He also wanted as much of the Carpathian male’s body exposed to the painful acid as possible.

Ferro caught his ankle, twisted and took him down with his enormous strength, caught the stake Sandu threw to him and slammed it straight through Sergey’s heart, pinning him to the consecrated spot in the meadow. Smoke rose as the vampire’s skin burned. He screamed horribly. Ferro waved his hand to stop the rain.

Elisabeta, take down his safeguards above. We will need the lightning. Strengthen the ones we wove in the ground so the slivers cannot burrow .

The ground is both hallowed and safeguarded, Ferro, Elisabeta assured. I am removing the safeguards above you now .

The grasses disappeared as if they’d never been to reveal the wide expanse of bare dirt, all of which had been sanctified. Ringing the entire prepared circle were the ancients, waiting, all eyes on the writhing, fighting master vampire as Ferro held him down with the sacrosanct wooden stake. He had to use both hands. Black blood bubbled up around the wood. Benedek held the legs of the vampire as Sergey kicked and drummed his heels into the dirt.

The master vampire spit his hatred at Ferro. His red inflamed eyes promised retaliation, flames burning in their depths. At times they glowed silver or brown or green, malevolent, promising torturous, painful death. He tried to dig claws into Ferro, to tear skin off his ribs and arms, anything to get him to remove the stake.

Minutes passed while they waited. The ancients wore the expressionless, stoic masks of the hunters. They didn’t pass judgment on the creatures they were forced to hunt and destroy. They rid the world of their presence because they had no other choice. They waited now in silence, all eyes on the writhing master vampire.

Maggots and parasites oozed from his pores, abandoning the undead’s body. More and more he appeared a rotting, decomposed corpse. The moment the parasites or maggots hit the soil, they burned into white ash so that soon, the vampire’s shape was drawn with a pile of ash much like a chalk outline surrounding him.

Each of Sergey’s four older brothers had placed a sliver of themselves in their younger brother. He also had two slivers of Xavier, the high mage. Those slivers would abandon him when it became apparent their host was not going to survive. The ancients simply waited while Sergey hissed and screamed his hatred. While the hallowed ground under his body burned and seared his back and skull. While the sanctified stake spread purity through his insides, forcing out every corruption.

Without warning, six tiny shadows emerged from Sergey’s ears, rushing in all directions, each seeking the safety of the darkness and the higher grass several yards away. The slivers were so tiny they were nearly impossible to see, even with Carpathian vision, but for the plume of smoke rising from each as the hallowed soil burned them, marking each abomination as it made its desperate run.

Lightning forked across the sky in a dazzling display, seven whips arcing above their heads. Six jagged spears slammed to earth with deadly accuracy, each striking one of the fleeing slivers. Hideous shrieks tore through the night, a frightful cacophony that rose in strength. Faceless skulls with wide yawning empty holes for mouths appeared in sheets of rising black smoke. Venomous silver eyes glared for a brief moment and then flames consumed them, burning them to ash.

Ferro jerked the stake free in one swift movement and the remaining white-hot lightning whip hit Sergey’s heart with deadly accuracy. The master vampire stared up at him with unrelenting hatred until there was nothing but the rotted corpse left, and then that, too, was gone. The ancients stood for a brief moment, heads bowed, before they cleared the land of all traces of the vampires and made their way back to the compound, just beating dawn.

Ferro woke Elisabeta gently, singing their song to her, one of deep love and commitment, of devotion and hope. She was truly free, his little songbird. No longer in her cage, free to choose her life, and she had made it abundantly clear that her choice was Ferro. He found that humbling. A miracle. He knew he would never take her for granted.

They’d gone to ground together, wrapped in each other’s arms, his body protectively curled around hers. He was grateful for the freedom to be able to do so without frightening her. He never wanted her to think he was caging her in, but he found he needed to be close to her. Skin to skin. Touching her even in their slumber.

Before, he had slept above her to protect her, to give her a sense of safety, but now she welcomed him in the ground with her, his body in the same resting place. He woke before her to hunt for blood for them both, but then he had the privilege of waking her with their song. He was able to feel that first awareness in her mind, the joy in her when she recognized the notes of their music together. Her long lashes lifting so her eyes met his. The moment that happened, his heart clenched and his stomach did a slow roll of acknowledgment.