Carpathian 02 - Dark Desire

threw his support to the women. He owed Byron. He could not allow anyone to suffer as he had. He glanced at Gregori. "You knew Raven and Mikhail were in trouble when their minds were connected to Byron's. What is it? How does the vampire trap us?"
    "He ensnared Raven and me through Byron, a monumental feat," Mikhail admitted. Then he rubbed his jaw ruefully. "Is it possible, little brother, you enjoyed hitting me just a bit too much?"
    Jacques' teeth gleamed white in the semblance of a smile. He could not help but admire Mikhail's coolness in the midst of a threat as lethal as the healer's and the vampire's combined. To be able to joke, to put aside the ego of the Carpathian male, was nothing short of a miracle. Fragments of memory rushed over him, memories of greatness, of a powerful being dedicated to the preservation of their people. His arms crept around Shea, his anchor to reality, his bridge from his lost past to the present. Shea responded at once, so in tune with him she needed no second hint. She leaned into him immediately, flooding his mind with warmth and soothing comfort.
    "There is a root," Gregori explained. "One can grind it into a fine powder, mix it with two types of berries and sage. It is boiled until it becomes thick, all liquid evaporated, and the remaining gel is then mixed with the venom from a tree toad. I am positive the vampire is using it. The recipe is an ancient one and lost to all but those of us who studied alchemy and black magic. I know of only two others besides me who would have this knowledge."

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    "Aidan," Mikhail said softly. "Or Julian."
    "It cannot be," Gregori denied. "I would feel their presence in our land. Even changed, I would know either of them."
    "What exactly does this drug do?" Shea asked. The identity of the vampire seemed secondary; she was far more intrigued with the results of such a mixture as Gregori described. She had studied plants and herbs extensively. Common ones like foxglove and rhododendrons could produce paralysis. She knew, too, that toad venom of itself could be lethal. Certain tribes in various parts of the world had discovered its properties and used it to tip their darts, spears, and arrows. Somehow the blend of root and berries and toxin must paralyze the nervous system, even affect the mind. "How is it administered?"
    "It has to be in the bloodstream," Gregori said.
    "Who could get close enough to inject a Carpathian? Even a vampire cunning enough to disguise his true self would not have the strength to overcome someone of Jacques' stature. It is inconceivable;' Mikhail said. "Jacques was a hunter, a dispenser of justice. At the time the murders were decimating our people, he would have been doubly cautious."
    "The vampire tricked him. It is the usual weapon of a deceiver, is it not?" Gregori informed them calmly.
    "Dawn is here. We must hurry."
    The rain beat down into the silence; the wind shook the trees. Jacques stared sightlessly into the forest.
    Fragments of memory teased and whispered at him. "Blood. So much blood." The words came out of their own accord. His fingertips stroked absently over his neck, a frown creasing his forehead. "It was a hunter's trap, a crude, nearly invisible wire. It cut my throat."
    Nobody moved or spoke, not wanting to break Jacques' concentration. Shea found herself holding her breath. Memory was so important to Jacques, and right now it might save Byron's life. She could feel the pain splintering through his mind, felt him blocking it out, focusing his will to remember. He rubbed his thumb back and forth across an eyebrow, then frowned slightly. "I was weak. He came then, offered his blood. I did not want to offend him, but I was reluctant. He was… he disturbed me." Jacques broke off, gripping his temples hard with his fingertips. "I cannot see him." He looked at Shea with desperate, anguished eyes. "I do not know who he is."
    She wrapped her arms around him both mentally and physically, hating the worn, tortured lines etched into his beautiful face. Two days ago you could barely stand, could not remember anything. This is a miracle, Jacques. What you've accomplished is a miracle. She tried to reassure him, reading accurately that he loathed the fact that he could not eke out another detail.
    "It is enough to piece it together," Gregori said, his voice a soothing balm. He touched his fingertips to Jacques' temples, inhaled slowly,