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

“You must take more of my blood, Desari,” Syndil insisted softly. “You are so pale. Darius would be angry with you if he knew you did not feed properly. I insist, Desari. You must feed.” To force the issue, Syndil reopened her own vein with her teeth and pushed her wrist to Desari’s mouth. “Do as I say, little sister.” She gave the order in her firmest voice.

It was so unlike Syndil, Desari was startled into obeying her. Syndil had a gentle, soft-spoken, and loving nature. She rarely did wild, unpredictable things the way Desari did. Desari was forever getting reprimanded by her brother, not that it did him much good. She always found something new and different to try. Always amazed at the beauty of the world around her, she found everything exciting, people intriguing. She was not content, as Syndil was, to do as the men instructed.

It wasn’t as if she set out to defy Darius. She would never do that; no one would dare. She just ended up in trouble over lots of little things. For instance, Darius did not want Desari wandering off by herself, but she liked her privacy, and she enjoyed running in the forest, taking to the skies, swimming with fish. Life was bubbling over with so many opportunities for adventure, and Desari wanted to try everything. Darius, however, believed that vampires might be lurking anywhere, waiting to carry off the women, and he guarded them accordingly.

Desari closed the wound on Syndil’s wrist, careful to leave no mark, then very gently pulled her own arm away from her brother, closing the laceration with the healing agent in her saliva. “Do you think he looks a little better, Syndil?” Darius was in the deep sleep of their people, his heart and lungs already shut down.

“His color is not so gray,” Syndil agreed. “We must get him to ground, where he will have a chance to heal. Where did he send Barack and Dayan?”

“I do not know,” Desari admitted. “I was unconscious.”

“In any case, you need to go to ground to heal also. I will have to handle the inquiries with the police. I will tell them Darius spirited you and the band out of harm’s way, that all of you were injured but the attack on your life did not succeed.”

“They will want to know where we were treated,” Desari objected. She was very tired, and the uneasiness in her was growing. She felt restless and unhappy, near tears, something unheard of for her.

“I can plant memories as well as any of you,” Syndil said firmly. “I may prefer solitude, but I assure you, Desari, I am every bit as capable as you.”

Desari stroked back her brother’s long dark hair. The silken strands fell past his broad shoulders in a shiny fall reminiscent of her own. Darius always looked so harsh and implacable when he was awake, a hint of cruelty about his finely chiseled mouth. Yet all that was gone when he was asleep. He looked young and handsome, without the tremendous responsibilities he always shouldered when he was awake.

“I do not like sleeping so close to mortals, especially when we are hunted,” Desari said softly. “It is not safe.”

“I am certain Darius took Barack and Dayan into the woods and ensured their safety. We will do the same for Darius. Desari, he may be wounded and tired, but he is powerful beyond even our knowledge. He can hear and feel things even when he is sleeping the sleep of our people.”

“What do you mean?”

Syndil pushed at the thick braid falling over her shoulder. “That night Savon attacked me, Darius was deep in the ground healing from a wound. The rest of you were far away, hunting, and I had stayed to watch over his resting place. Savon called to me to met him in a cave to see a rare plant he had found.” She bowed her head. “I went. I should have stayed to watch over Darius, but I went at Savon’s call. I screamed for all of you to aid me, but you were too far to make it back in time. But Darius heard. Even from deep within the earth. Even from the healing sleep of our people, he heard and knew every detail; I felt him lock on to me. Wounded, he rose and came to save me.”

“Darius heard you while he slept?” Desari, like the others, had assumed Darius had risen while they hunted. By the time she and Dayan and Barack had returned, Darius had already destroyed Savon and was healing Syndil’s terrible wounds even though he himself was weak from loss of blood.

Syndil nodded solemnly. “He came when I believed there was no hope for me.” She bowed her head, her voice soft, filled with tears. “I feel so ashamed that I cannot control my sorrow and ease his pain. He feels guilty. He feels he failed me.”

Desari lay her head protectively over her brother’s chest. She knew Syndil was only half-correct. Darius believed he had failed Syndil, but he did not feel guilty. He did not feel at all. He hid his lack of emotion from all of them, but Desari was so close to him, she was well aware of it and had been for some time. It was only his intense loyalty and sense of duty that kept Darius fighting for them. It was not feeling.

She knew Darius feared for their safety should he ever turn as Savon had. She was certain, as was he, that neither Barack nor Dayan could defeat him in battle. She doubted even their combined strengths could do so. She believed Darius was invincible. He could not turn. To her, it was that simple. Whatever darkness in him that was growing, spreading, whatever the lack of feeling in him, he would never allow it to turn him. His will was far too strong. Darius had shown that from the very first. Nothing could sway him from his chosen path.

Unless, perhaps, he simply allowed himself to be honorably killed. That was Desari’s prime concern, her deepest fear. She was frightened for all of them. Carpathian men had natures completely different from the women. They were dangerous, powerful predators, even when protective of women and mortals, they were dominating, arrogant, and thus truly perilous if they turned. It wasn’t in Syndil’s feminine nature to chafe under the males’ constraints or to rebel against them. Desari alone did what she wanted and damned the consequences, which only served to make the men more dominating and protective. Yes, they would all be in grave danger if Darius were to die or turn vampire.

“You will have to drive the bus, Syndil,” Desari instructed. “I will guard the rear to ensure we are not followed.”

Syndil wished she could navigate the big vehicle and also cast an illusion over it to hide from the mortals, but it was impossible for her. She would have to leave it to Desari, even in her weakened state, to fashion as many blockades as possible to any that might follow them. They were evidently in danger from some murderous group of mortals.

“Go, Syndil,” Desari said, making her way to the back of the bus.

Who was it that had saved her life, she wondered. Why had he done so? Darius said he could detect no evil, no tainted blood in her, and he should know. He had hunted and killed the undead often enough down through the centuries. He knew better than any of them the stench of tainted blood. He said it burned skin, raised blisters, and ate through flesh if left in contact too long. Darius had learned that bit of important information as he had everything else: the hard way.

Desari knelt on the bed at the back of the bus and stared out at the scene of dwindling chaos. Ambulances and police cars were pulling away, the crowd was beginning to disperse. She hadn’t thought to ask Darius if any of their attackers had escaped. Knowing Darius, she doubted it, but he might have been so concerned with her, Barack, and Dayan that he had allowed some of those guilty to escape his particular brand of justice.

Syndil drove the bus with surprising expertise, and Desari kept her eyes glued behind them, watching for any lights trailing the vehicle. Suddenly her heart was in her throat, pounding in alarm. For some reason she didn’t want to leave the bar. She felt she was leaving behind her destiny. She needed to be where he could find her.