Carpathian 12 - Dark Melody

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    Why did he use such strange terms? She tapped her chin with her index finger. Mortals. He had used that word as if it were natural and meant something. He had said the humans could not harm him. As if he weren't human. Corinne shook her head, attempting to dislodge the thought.
    Of course Dayan was human. What else could he be? An animal? He certainly had an animal quality in the way he moved. He was like a large jungle cat. There was something in his eyes, in the way his body moved. What was she thinking? A mythical cat person? Corinne let her breath out slowly. It was too crazy to be sitting in the dark allowing her imagination to run wild while Dayan was out there in the midst of killers. He didn't think he needed protection, but she knew she could help him if it was warranted.
    Resolutely she reached for the door handle. As she did so, her hand trembled and she found she stopped midway. She actually broke out in a sweat. Everything in her demanded she stay in the car.
    Very carefully, Corinne pressed her palms protectively over her baby. She was missing something important; she just couldn't fit all the pieces together. Dayan was different, he had tremendous power, but it was more than that. Little things didn't add up. Things no one else seemed to notice about him. Things she found in him when their minds were merged. At first she only heard his voice, but more and more small details were finding their way into her mind. Strange images. Facts. Vivid, detailed images of history, of time periods long gone by. The images were blurred, but they were there in his mind.

    Dayan stood quietly by the car with the fog enshrouding him, wrapping him tightly in its coils. He touched Corinne's mind once more, smiled to himself at the way she was working her way toward the truth.
    Corinne. His heart and soul. His very breath. Corinne had touched things in his mind each time he merged fully with her. His past. Wars and the growth of nations. Vivid details etched in his memories. Feats of strength. Various time periods. It was all part of what had shaped his character. His family. Darius. The vampires attacking their family unit because of the two females. Concerts. Thousands of concerts. Some given as wandering minstrels, others in football stadiums. Horse-drawn carriages and old-fashioned automobiles. Every memory shadowed by the dark of night. Creatures of the night. Their world.
    Dayan placed his hand on top of the car, right above her head, knowing he was completely invisible, knowing she was worried about him. She was attempting to resist his softly whispered command for her obedience. His heart was melting at the idea that she was determined to protect him when she was so small and delicate, her health so fragile. His love for her, growing with each moment he spent in her company, was becoming an all-encompassing thing.
    He stared down at his hand, holding the picture of the change in his mind first. His hand distorted, curled, claws extending where his fingernails had been, fur rippling over his skin. He moved away from the car as the transformation came over him. He reached for it, embraced it, reveled in the complete freedom. The creature had been there in her mind, sharing her thoughts. Cat person. He liked that. She had caught glimpses of his world, of the hunts using the body of a big cat to provide himself with sustenance. Inside the leopard's compact, sinewy body, Dayan smiled. She was closer to the truth than she knew. He was inexplicably proud of her for that.
    Silently, the magnificent jungle cat moved on its large, padded paws through the fog-shrouded street. It walked on cushioned feet, confident in its incredible hearing and night vision. It commanded the nocturnal haunting realm; the night was its undisputed kingdom. Dayan used the leopard's body to "see" objects around him. He knew exactly where his prey was. In the body of the leopard, Dayan moved ever closer to the object of the hunt. His muscles rippled like sinewy ropes beneath his fluid skin as he crept near.
    The man crushed out his cigarette beneath his boot and repositioned his shotgun across his lap. The fog Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    was making him restless. It was thick, impossible to see through, yet he could swear there were figures moving in it. He leaned out away from the porch, listening as hard as he could for any sound of someone approaching. All