Christine Feehan: Dark Challenge (Dark Series - book 5)

The huge black panther had not even licked at the woman’s wounds or attempted to sample the blood of the other two fallen band members. The scent of fresh blood should have triggered the cats’ instinct to hunt, to eat. Leopards were notorious scavengers as well as hunters. Something was off kilter, for these leopards were definitely protecting the singer.

Julian shook his head and returned to matters regarding his immediate attention. He sent himself into his own body, seeking the lacerations, sealing them off from the inside this time. The effort took more energy than he could afford, so he mixed an herbal drink that promoted healing. Drifting back outside onto the porch, he drained the liquid quickly, forcing his body to hold on to the unfamiliar nourishment.

It took a few minutes to gather the necessary strength to make his way into the forest. He was seeking rich soil, a blend of vegetation and dirt, that would best approximate the earth of the Carpathian homeland, which always aided the healing of a Carpathian’s wounds. He found such soil beneath a thick layer of pine needles on the far side of a knoll. He mixed moss and soil with the healing agent in his saliva and packed his wounds with it. At once the blend soothed the terrible burning.

It was interesting to him, observing the different sensations and emotions pushing in on him. He had known that those Carpathians who reclaimed emotion and color found that everything they experienced was much deeper and far more intense than it had been when they were younger. Everything. That included pain. All Carpathians learned to block things out if it was necessary, but it took enormous energy. Julian was tired and hungry. His body cried out for nourishment. His mind was tuned to Desari’s. His lifemate. Her mind was in turmoil now, but she was alive. He wanted to reach out and reassure her, but he knew such an intrusion would only make her more upset.

He closed his eyes and leaned against a tree trunk. A leopard. Who would have thought a leopard would score such a blow against him? Had he been so distracted by the presence of his newfound lifemate that he had been careless? How could an animal have outmaneuvered him? And what of the assassins and the way they were killed? No cat or even human avenger could have accomplished all that so quickly. Julian had supreme confidence in his own abilities; few of the ancients, and certainly no mere animal, could defeat him in battle. There was only one who could. Gregori.

He shook his head to try to clear his thoughts. The way the cat had battled, so focused, so relentless, was all too reminiscent of the Dark One. Why couldn’t he shake that thought when he knew it was totally impossible? Could another ancient have hidden from all of his own kind? Gone to ground for a few hundred years and emerged undetected?

Julian tried to recall what he knew of Gregori’s family. His parents had been massacred during the time of the Turk invasion of the Carpathian Mountains. Mikhail, now the Prince and leader of the Carpathian people, had lost his parents the same way. Entire villages had been destroyed. Beheadings were common, as were bodies writhing on stakes, left to rot in the sun. Small children were often herded together into a pit or a building and burned alive. Scenes of torture and mutilation had become a way of life, a harsh, merciless existence for Carpathians and humans alike.

The Carpathian race was nearly decimated. In the horror of those murderous days they lost most of their women, a good number of their men, and, most important, nearly all of their children. That had been the most violent and shocking blow of all. One day the children had been rounded up, along with mortal children, and driven into a straw shack, which had been set on fire, burning them alive. Mikhail had eluded the slaughter, along with a brother and sister, Gregori had not fared as well. He had lost a brother around six years of age and a new baby sister, not yet six months.

Julian took a deep breath and let it out, going over each and every male Carpathian he had encountered over the centuries, trying to place the unusual black panther.

He recalled the legends about two ancient hunters, twins, who had disappeared without a trace some five or six hundred years earlier. It was believed one had turned vampire. He inhaled sharply at the thought of that. Could he still be alive? Could Julian have escaped relatively unscathed from one so powerful? He doubted it.

Julian searched every corner of his mind for information. Had there been a child he didn’t remember? Wouldn’t any Carpathian, male or female, from Gregori’s bloodline be far too powerful to miss? If there was a chance that any relative of Gregori’s existed some where, anywhere, in the world, wouldn’t the rest of their people know it by now? Julian himself had traveled near and far, in new lands and old, and had come across no strangers of their kind. True, there were rumors and hopes that Carpathians as yet unknown to their people might well exist, but he had never found them.

Julian dismissed the matter for the moment and sent forth a call, luring prey in close to him rather than wasting valuable energy hunting. He waited beneath the tree, and a light breeze carried to him the sounds of four people. He inhaled their scent. Teenagers. Males. They had all been drinking. He sighed again. It seemed that was the favorite pastime of young mortals—drinking or using drugs. It didn’t matter; in the end, blood was all the same.

He could hear their conversation as they stumbled almost blindly through the forest toward him. None of the boys had permission from their parents for this camping outing. Julian’s white teeth gleamed in the night in a slightly mocking smile. So the boys thought it was funny to make fools out of people who loved and trusted them. Their species was so different from his own. Although his race was often more predator than man, a Carpathian male would never harm a woman or child or be disrespectful to those who loved or protected or taught him.

He waited, his intense eyes molten gold, easily piercing the veil of darkness. His mind continually strayed to his lifemate. Every Carpathian male knew the chance of finding a lifemate within their dwindling race was nearly impossible, their numbers being repeatedly decimated by the vampire and witch hunts in the Middle Ages and during the bloody Turk and Holy Wars. To complicate matters, the few remaining women had not given birth to a female child in years, and the rare children born in recent centuries nearly all died within their first year. No one, not even Gregori, their greatest healer, nor Mikhail, the Prince and leader of their people, had found the solution to these grave problems.

Many had tried in the past to turn mortal women Carpathian, but the females had either perished or become deranged vampiresses, feeding on the lifeblood of human children and always killing their prey. Such women had had to be destroyed to protect the human race.

Then Mikhail and Gregori had discovered a rare group of mortal women who possessed true psychic ability who could survive the conversion. Such women could be turned with three blood exchanges, and they were capable of producing female children. Mikhail had made such a match, and his daughter, Savannah, had been born as Gregori’s lifemate. A new surge of hope had spread among the Carpathian males. But though Julian had traveled throughout the world—granted, preferring the wilds of the mountains and the freedom of the open spaces to long periods spent among humans—he had never come across any women possessing the rare abilities required.

Julian had long since ceased to believe or hope the way the others had, even when his own twin brother had found such a woman. Julian knew he was a cynic, that the darkness in him, calling out to the undead, was like a stain spreading across his soul. He had accepted it, as he accepted the rest of the ever-changing universe, as he accepted the sin of his youth and his own self-banishment from his people. He was of the earth and the sky. He was a part of it all. And as he neared the time when he was dangerously close to the change, he accepted that, too. He knew he was strong; he was willing to walk into the sun before he became a demon with no soul at all. For a very long time he had had no hope, had had nothing to hold out for.