Carpathian 08 - Dark Legend

challenged so openly." His voice was so soft and gentle and compelling, it crawled inside one's head and pushed and pushed until there was only one recourse. Obedience. Gabriel moved farther away from Francesca, toward the open grassy area. "You have asked for the justice of our people, unclean one, and I can do no other than oblige you. Come to me."
    Francesca could not take her eyes from the ancient warrior. He stood tall and broad-shouldered, his hair flowing in the slight breeze. His face was stern yet gentle. He seemed relaxed, yet gave the impression of immense power. His voice was mesmerizing, his manner confident. He looked invincible. She gasped as she saw the vampire emerge from the thick bushes to Gabriel's left. The creature inched forward, fighting every step of the way, growling and spitting, hissing with hatred. She had never seen a vampire so close and he was hideous. The eyes were sunken and red-rimmed. The teeth were rotted, jagged, and stained a dark color. The flesh on him seemed to sag as if it didn't quite fit.
    More than the looks of the man, it was the cunning, crafty hatred in the repulsive creature that frightened her. Francesca, as far away from him as she was, could still sense the stench of depravity that surrounded him. She made herself look at the creature, made herself feel its evil. It was important to realize just what Gabriel had faced his entire life. This monster. How many of them? How often? How many had he known personally, grown up with before they had turned? She had thought her life difficult and solitary, yet staring at the undead, she began to understand just what his life must have been like.
    All those centuries she had viewed him as a hero, a revered legendary protector of immortals and mortals alike. Now she recognized just what being a hunter entailed. His own people had feared his power and skills. Males would have kept away from him, fearing he might later have to hunt and destroy them. He could never afford to have friends. Worse, his beloved brother had become a vampire and Gabriel had been forced to track him, battling him again and again over the centuries.
    "I can help."
    "You can do as I instructed. I am in more danger having to worry about protecting you. He will seek to use you. When he realizes he cannot defeat me, he will try to destroy you in retaliation." He sent her a wave of warmth. "Thank you, Francesca. I will join you soon at home."
    Gabriel turned his attention to the vampire, who, free from the enthrallment of his voice, was beginning to stalk him. Gabriel smiled, his teeth immaculately white. "I see that you are in a hurry to have your sentence carried out. I am of ancient blood, a true defender of our people. I am Gabriel. You know of me, you have grown up on the tales of my exploits. There is no way to defeat one such as I. Come, accept your sentence quietly, with dignity, remembering the great Carpathian you once were."
    The vampire hissed again, flames leaping in his red eyes, his feet dragging him ever closer despite his resolve to attack on his own terms.
    The sound of Gabriel's voice was so pure and true it grated on him, actually caused him pain. He could not face that voice any more than he could have looked at a reflection of himself in the mirror. He could not ignore the compulsion woven in the notes of the voice; he had no choice but to move ever closer to the hunter. The words undermined his confidence in his own ability to battle and destroy. Who could defeat such a hunter? How many others had fallen before him to this centuries-old warrior?
    The vampire shook his head hard, chanting in his mind in an attempt to counteract the spell the hunter had ensnared him in. No matter how hard he tried to break away, his feet continued to walk forward. The terrible voice continued, low and pure and very gentle. "You are not capable of denying me. I forbid you to shift your shape. You will come to me and receive the justice of our true Prince."
    Gabriel didn't move, not one step. He stood quietly, hands at his sides, his face portraying no emotion. No rage. No remorse. Only his eyes were alive, smoldering with intensity. Relentless. Merciless. The watchful eyes of a predator. They gleamed with menace, with ferocity. Still, the vampire could not stop his approach. He was snarling now, his legs dragging as he thrashed and fought to keep from moving forward, to keep from obeying that soft, gentle voice. The voice of death. It went on and on. Soft