Carpathian 04 - Dark Magic

in her mind. I will take over the shield now , ma petite, and you will not argue with your lifemate . Gregori took no chances with her stubborn ways. He thrust his will decisively into hers, blocking any attempt to take the control back. She was tired.
    She smiled at him, tender, loving, accepting. Gregori slid his arm along the back of her chair protectively.
    Oblivious of the interplay between the two Carpathians, Gary continued the conversation. "They wanted us to watch her, to do research on her, find out what we could about her background. And she wasn't the only one. There was a man they seemed very interested in. An Italian, I think. Julian Selvaggio or something close to that."
    Selvaggio is Italian for Savage. Aidan and Julian were born Selvaggio. It also means unsociable person, Gregori's voice whispered in her mind.
    Savannah felt her heart slam painfully against her ribs. Julian. Of course it was Julian Savage. She looked up at Gregori. The society was setting its members against Julian. She didn't know him personally, but suddenly it all seemed very close to home.
    We will send word to him , ma petite. Who better to guard the woman from those who also wish his death? Julian is a very dangerous hunter. One of our best. Second to your father, he is perhaps the most powerful Carpathian alive .
    I guess we aren't considering you , Savannah said loyally, truthfully.
    Gregori turned his attention to Gary. "So the society members from Florida were different from the rest of you. They were serious, and they gave you specific names to get information on. Were there more?"
    Gary nodded. "I have a laptop in my hotel room. It lists those they suspect and activities they considered suspicious."
    Gregori permitted himself a small smile. His teeth were gleaming white, those of a predator on the prowl.
    "I think a trip to your hotel room is on the agenda tonight."
    Savannah tossed her braid over her shoulder and allowed herself to look around the room. Laughter Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    was erupting from nearly every table. Most of the occupants were tourists, and she enjoyed listening to the various accents and conversations. A group of older locals was four tables away. She found their mixture of French Cajun fascinating. Three of them had grown up together and were telling a fourth, younger man some of the more fanciful tales of their youth.
    She found herself tuning in as the young man laughed softly. "Stories about Old man alligator have been around since before my grandfather's time. It's just a legend, an old tale to scare the children away from the swamp, nothing more. My mother used to tell me that same story."
    An argument broke out instantly among the men. The oldest, the one with the heaviest accent, broke into French, not the elegant French Gregori spoke, but the local dialect. All the same, Savannah was certain he was swearing a blue streak. There was such a soothing cadence to the old man's voice, a rhythm unique to New Orleans.
    As she listened, the old alligator grew in stature. He was huge, like the grinning crocodile of the Nile. He had eaten hundreds of hunting dogs, lay in wait along a trail and gulped them as they came running by. He snatched small children from the banks in front of their parents' homes. An entire boatload of partying teens had vanished in his domain. The tales grew with each telling.
    At first, Savannah was smiling, enjoying the fascinating old legend, but a slow dread was beginning to seize her. She glanced at Gregori. He was talking quietly with Gary, extracting information with skillful questions even as he gave the illusion of having a pleasant conversation. She knew he was automatically scanning the area, monitoring other conversations, yet he seemed relaxed, unaware of the gathering blackness.
    She rubbed her pounding temples, massaged her tight neck. Little beads of sweat broke out on her forehead.
    Savannah tried to concentrate on the funny tale, the growing exploits of the alligator, but with each passing moment all she could do was feel the black apprehension building like some terrible disease that managed to get inside her mind and cling to her.
    Gregori turned his head, the silver eyes slashing her face, at once concerned. Ma petite, what is it ? His mind was already reaching for hers, merging fully so that he could feel the gathering sense of darkness growing so quickly within her.
    Is it possible there is an evil