The second pack was also made up of ancients; all were in the brotherhood or had been at one time. Afanasiv, Nicu and Valentin were joined by Petru and Isia. They made a formidable pack, moving fast, going out to sea.
Tomas, Lojos, Mataias, Andre and Gary made up the last pack. At present, they were streaming out over the national park, where water ran in rivers beneath the ground. Those rivers connected directly to the lake bordering Tariq’s property.
Dragomir dismissed the other packs from his mind, knowing they were strong and could weather any storm sent their way by Vadim. His pack’s job was to enter the underground city undetected, observe what the vampires were doing and then permanently destroy any of the undead they found.
He used the wind to aid him. It was natural and would never give the vampires pause. On the outside, the alleyway looked as if no one had been there since a cave-in had destroyed the entrances and hallways inside. He studied the debris piled in front of the entrance from every angle, touching it lightly with the breeze. He felt the taint of evil. It wasn’t strong, barely more than a whiff of darkness. Ordinarily, he might have dismissed it as the trace of a vampire that had passed by long ago. Thanks to Emeline, however, he knew the vampires were still using the underground city, which made this faint scent of evil a trail worth pursuing.
He kept moving with the breeze so no alarms could be triggered. His progress was slower than he would have liked, but he felt no frustration. It was his job to hunt the enemy, and sometimes that took patience. The wind slipped into a crevice and found space. Emptiness.
One entrance here, he reported to the brotherhood. I’m going in.
Entering the tunnels would be more dangerous than staying outside where the breeze of his presence would seem natural. Now he would have to be a slight draft, cold air seeping in from the outside night.
There is an entrance from the floor of the shop I am in, Sandu reported. I’m going in.
Be careful. I am using a faint draft.
No worries, I am creating a nice habitat for the black witch moth. It isn’t small, it has a seven-inch wing span, but the undead would not believe a hunter would use such a creature to spy on them. I, however, will have to give my moth at least eight inches to be realistic.
Dragomir nearly choked. Leave it to Sandu. The black witch moth was legendary as a harbinger of death. And eight inches? It was starting. He shouldn’t have shared humor with any of them.
Found another entrance here on the street. Ferro this time. I will go in as a black witch moth. Perhaps I should make my wingspan that little bit bigger as in keeping with my size. Say, nine inches?
Dragomir would have laughed if his present form allowed it. They might not find humor in the things they said, but they were funny. Now that he had regained his emotions, he shared them automatically with the others. It had been so long since any of them had felt anything, they almost didn’t remember what humor was.
If we went by that, I would have to go for a ten-inch wingspan, Andor said, his voice droll. Sandu, I hope that you do not feel embarrassed.
Given that much larger than eight or nine inches is going to draw attention and be smashed first by some stubby vampire, I have no reason to feel this emotion – this embarrassment you speak of.
That rules out my twelve-inch wingspan, Benedik grumbled. I am going in by the back wall three shops down.
Dragomir’s heart clenched hard in his chest. He knew that entrance – or more precisely – exit. Vadim had used it after he had impregnated Emeline. Be especially cautious. That leads directly into Vadim’s private lair.
He moved into the pile of debris, floating in the steady breeze down through the crevice and into the hallway of the underground city. Rock and dirt covered the floor in great impassable mounds. One rock blocked the door to the chamber where Bella, Liv and, farther back, Val had been held. Live experiments with children had been conducted there. Children were fed to the flesh-eating puppets Vadim had created. Most of those children had been alive at the time. In hunt mode, he was grateful he’d put some distance from his emotions. As it was, the place turned his stomach and sorrow slipped in. He began to drift away, more than happy that there was no sign of Vadim or his pawns.
He halted abruptly, staying in the steady cool stream of air, but not moving with it. He couldn’t overlook anything. It seemed ridiculous to think that Vadim would use the chambers again, but they couldn’t afford to take the chance. He slipped out of the breeze and, moving slowly so as not to trigger any alarms, slid into a tiny opening between the rock and the chamber wall.
At first the room appeared empty. He nearly turned to go back, but then air was displaced and figures shimmered for a moment. They appeared translucent, so that anyone looking could see right through them to the dirt-covered ceiling, the blood-stained floor and the dark, ominous scratches in the walls.
Dragomir slipped into a corner and stayed absolutely still as he focused his Carpathian vision on the interior of the chamber. It only took a few moments before the images began emerging into flesh-and-blood apparitions. There was a woman of indeterminate age in the cage. Her hands were tied at the wrist, suspended over her head. She had scars on her neck from rough biting and there were more on her arms and even one up high on her thigh where her skirt was pulled up. Her hair was pulled back in a loose, disheveled ponytail.
He could tell she was tall and very thin, almost emaciated. Her hair was very thick and long, the color dark with a few streaks of silver woven through. Her face and body appeared young, but there was something about her that made him think she was older.
She appeared dehydrated, glassy-eyed and beaten. There were bruises everywhere he could see. Her head was down, but without warning, her gaze shifted toward the corner of the room – the corner where he stayed so still. She took a breath and let it out slowly. Her head moved, her chin jerking slightly toward the second chamber, the one where Valentin had been held.
Telling him something. Warning him, perhaps? She knew he was there. She was aware of him even when the vampire was not. What did that say about her? Who was she?
A vampire moved around a long stone table. He muttered to himself and kept casting murderous glances over his shoulder at the prisoner. She had once more dropped her head, looking defeated when Dragomir knew she wasn’t. There was fresh blood on the floor and smears of it, small bloody footprints, leading into the next chamber.
Dragomir didn’t much like the fact that the woman knew she was no longer alone in the chamber with the vampire so close. He needed to find out what was in that chamber before he made a move against the vampire. And he had to kill the vampire without alerting the underground city.
Vadim had woven a spell over the chambers, one that the Carpathians had already fallen for once. They had examined these chambers once before and believed he had abandoned his city, but it was still in use. He just hid it better now.
Dragomir moved slowly, inching his way through the chamber to keep from moving air. The vampire was engrossed in what he was doing, still muttering to himself, obviously angry at his assigned task – or the orders to leave the prisoner alone. It was the way the vampire alternated between glaring at her and licking his lips hungrily when he eyed her that had Dragomir certain he had been given orders to stay away from the woman.
Without warning the chamber door banged open so hard it hit the rock, bounced closed, swung open a second time with equal force, but this time a large vampire stood framed in the doorway. Dragomir recognized him immediately. Eugen. He had successfully escaped from the cave, but he was covered in scars from his encounter with the sun. He’d burned severely. Half of his face was a flat silver sheet with strange, almost cheesy skin around the borders. As if it were a mask, when the vampire spoke, the skin, already pulled tight, didn’t allow for expression.
“Get a move on, Artur, I’m tired of waiting. We don’t have all night.”
Artur glared at Eugen. “You got to eat. I’m starving. She smells delicious. Her blood must be… powerful. I want just one taste. I’m hungry.” The last was almost a whine.
“I don’t give a rat’s ass if you’re starving. I’m not going to let you get me killed. Sergey wants the information and I told him I’d get it for him.” Eugen glanced behind him, bared his teeth and swung around. “I can see you’re anxious for your treatment today,” he said to someone behind him.