Carpathian 15 - Dark Secret

feel any objects in its path and know the exact distance to them. Very simple, but very clever.
    It is an illusion. The entrance to the mines is ten feet to the left. We can go in through the cracks using mist. At least we know we are in the right place. He must be in there to have set up such an enormous safeguard. He could not hope to keep it throughout the daylight hours.

    Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    Vikirnoff joined Rafael in the same form, using the bat's radar to judge the distance to the boulders at the real entrance to the mines. They moved with care, streaming as a vapor trail through a large crack between rocks, making their way into the dark tunnel. It was safer to proceed as vapor, not touching the walls or ground where they might trigger a trap. That worked until they turned a corner and encountered a giant spider web. The strands of the web were closely woven. It was impossible for even vapor to slip through without disturbing the silky threads. A very small spider sat in the corner of the web.
    The hunters shifted into Carpathian form to study the design of the thick web. It looked silky and fragile, a delicate work of art, yet Rafael felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise in warning.
    "Have you seen this before?" Vikirnoff asked, keeping a wary eye on the harmless-looking spider.
    Rafael inched closer, bending to look at the fibers. They appeared that of a normal web, yet there were no holes, no lacy effect. The design was solid and tight. He looked at the small spider to identify the species. It stared back at him. The bubble eyes blinked and Rafael found himself staring into the eyes of evil, of intelligence. Kirja stared back at him, venomous hatred and malevolence roiling in the depths of his glare.
    Rafael leapt away from the web, dragging Vikirnoff with him as the tiny spider burst into a thousand spiders, all springing at them with poisonous fangs. Rafael incinerated the arachnids quickly, but not before quite a few of them managed to sink their poisonous fangs into his and Vikirnoff's arms and legs.
    The tiny bites left bloody swollen sores, seeping with venom, burning through flesh and tissue.
    "He definitely knows we are hunting him," Rafael said as he pushed the poison out through the pores of his body. Beside him, Vikirnoff did the same. "Every step we take is going to be dangerous. Not only is he good at illusion, but he is a master of mutating a species." He scorched the last remaining spiders.
    Vikirnoff nodded grimly. "In all my centuries of battling the undead, I have never faced a vampire this powerful. I think he is strong enough to kill us both if we come at him one at a time."
    "Unfortunately, I think you are right," Rafael agreed.
    They began to follow the tunnel as it slanted downward, taking them deeper beneath the ground. They tested each step with caution, all senses alert to impending danger. The beams were rotted and split above their heads. The large timbers supporting the ceiling beams also showed dangerous signs of age.
    An old track lay half buried along the ground. A collection of dusty, forgotten tools lay scattered across the ground.
    "Why do I feel as if we are entering the devil's lair?" Rafael asked. He pitched his voice low.
    "Because we are," Vikirnoff answered. "What is that noise?"
    Rafael glanced at the ancient hunter. "It sounds like miners."
    They rounded the corner and saw a dozen men working with pickaxes on the walls of the shaft. Several lanterns hung from the overhead beam, casting a dim yellow light over the workers below. As Vikirnoff and Rafael watched, two men manipulated a heavy, ore-filled car into place on the rickety rails. No one seemed to notice the presence of the two Carpathians.
    The two hunters looked at one another. "It has to be an illusion," Vikirnoff said.

    Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    None of the miners turned at the sound of his voice. The men continued to work industriously, the sound of the picks hitting rock ringing through the shaft.
    "They are wearing modern clothes," Rafael pointed out. He studied the scene in front of them, looking for the hidden trap he knew had to be there.
    "It could be he is slowing us down, making the point we cannot trust our own senses."
    "How did he set them in motion?" Rafael wanted to know. "If his illusion can tear into the rock, it can just as easily tear into us."
    The pickaxes continued to