Carpathian 01 - Dark Prince

away from him. Sooner or later they will come.
    Gregori's body shimmered, dissolved, so that mist swirled in the room, long snakelike ribbons of fog where the Carpathian had been. The vapor approached Romanov where he cowered close to the floor, streamed close to his head, his throat; then the mist poured from the room, leaving Romanov sobbing helplessly.
    Mikhail and Gregori glided through the corridor, swiftly, silently, hurrying into the night's freshness. After Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    the depravity of Rudy's mind, they needed the connection with the earth again. Once outside, Gregori forced the drugs through his pores to rid himself of the poison. Mikhail watched him do it, marveling at his ease. Gregori was quiet on the journey to Romanov's cottage. Mikhail respected his need to breathe in the night's scents, to feel the ground beneath his feet, hear the music of the wolves, the night creatures calling with their soothing rhythms.
    In the safety of the Romanov home, Gregori made his way unerringly to the papers crudely hidden beneath the floorboards. Mikhail took the old photographs and the bundle of papers without even glancing at them. "Tell me everything in his mind."
    Gregori's silver eyes glittered dangerously. "A man named Slovensky, Eugene Slovensky, is a member of a secret society dedicated to wiping out vampires. Von Halen, Anton Fabrezo, and Dieter Hodkins are the so-called experts who investigate and mark victims for kills. Slovensky recruits, and confirms and records kills."
    Mikhail swore softly, eloquently. "Another vampire hunt will destroy our people."
    Gregori shrugged his massive shoulders. "I will hunt and destroy these men. You take Raven and go far from this place.
    I feel your protest, Mikhail, but it is the only way, and we both know it."
    "I cannot trade my happiness for your soul."
    The silver eyes moved over Mikhail, then sought the night. "There are no other choices left to us. My only hope of salvation is a lifemate. I no longer feel, Mikhail; I fulfill my needs. There are no longer desires of the body, only of the mind. I cannot remember what it is to feel the things you feel. There is no joy in my life. I simply exist and do my duty toward our people. I must have a lifemate soon. I can only hold out a few more years; then I will seek eternal rest."
    "You will not seek the sun, Gregori, not without coming to me first." Mikhail held up his hand when Gregori would have protested. "I have been where you are, alone, the monster in me struggling for dominance, the stain on my soul dark. Our people need you. You must remain strong and fight the monster crouching so close."
    Gregori's silver eyes glittered dangerously in the darkened room, pale and menacing. "Do not overestimate my affection or loyalty. I must have a mate. If I feel something, anything—lust, possession, anything —I will take what is mine and dare anyone to take her from me." Abruptly Gregori's large frame shimmered, dissolving into water crystals, and streamed from the house out into the welcoming arms of the night. Let us leave this house of madness and death. Perhaps it is the tainted blood I took into my body speaking.
    With a sigh, Mikhail followed Gregori into the night. The twin ribbons of vapor glinted in the moonlight, joined the tendrils of fog rippling several feet above the forest floor. Anxious to return to Raven, Mikhail streamed through the trees toward the clearing that separated the houses from the deep forest. As he flowed past the priest's cabin and into the meadow, his mind rippled with uneasiness. The warning jarred enough that he retreated back to Father Hummer's home and, in the shelter of the trees, took back his human form. His mind touched Raven's. Nothing threatened her.
    "What is it?" Gregori materialized beside Mikhail.

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    They scanned the immediate area for danger. It was the soil that told of violence—trampling boots, droplets of blood.
    Mikhail raised stricken eyes to Gregori's pale ones, and they both turned simultaneously to look at the cabin of his old friend.
    "I will go first," Gregori said, with as much compassion as he was capable of interjecting into his voice.
    He stepped smoothly between Mikhail and the entrance to the priest's home.
    The neat little cabin, so comfortable and homey, had been destroyed, ransacked. The simple furniture was broken,