Carpathian 16 - Dark Demon

of the moon hit her in bands. Natalya seemed to fade into the background, the stripes lending her a strange camouflage. Only her eyes blazed, a deep ruby red, nearly glowing in the darkness.
    The tree branch beneath Vikirnoff's talons trembled as power swelled in the air. He held himself in check when every instinct told him to go to her, to stand between her and the thing of evil. Centuries of battling the undead held him steady. The trap was too neat, too tidy for his liking. He used the owl's hunting instincts to find what was hidden.
    "You have always been too confident, Natalya," Arturo said. His voice rose to a thin, ugly screech, his illusion beginning to fade as he grew angrier with her. "You will not escape us this time." His hand went to his chest and rubbed over the area where his blackened, wizened heart lay. "I was unfortunately not in control of my abilities the last time we met, but I have learned much in the years since that time." His humorless smile stretched once more, accenting the flesh taut over bone and revealing the sharp, pointed teeth that filled his mouth.
    The vampire crawling on the ground used both hands and jerked the knife from his chest, screaming as he did so. The voice was high and ugly and filled with rage and pain. He turned his head to glare at Natalya with hate-filled eyes, the hilt of a knife still sticking in his mouth and throat.
    "Will nothing shut you up?" she snapped, rolling her eyes heavenward.
    The rush of wind seemed to come from every direction, crashing together with tremendous force between Arturo and Natalya and bringing a putrid smell of decayed flesh.
    Twigs and leaves rose up through the whirling mist like a black tornado, weaving together to make a tight net above and around Natalya. For a moment it was impossible to see the empty space between the vampire and injured woman. Voices shrieked and wailed from inside the churning whirlwind.
    Vikirnoff had no choice. The wolves pressed closer, ringing the dark net brought by the winds. He could see the ground along the outside of the churning mass lifting ominously as if something evil stalked the woman from beneath the soil. Lightning forked overhead and the sound of thunder boomed loud, shaking the earth. He dropped fast, talons outstretched, plunging from a great height to rip through the shield of churning dirt and leaves. The moment he touched the barrier, he sensed the presence of yet another.
    The impression of evil washed over him. It was unlike anything he'd felt before.
    Vampire? Yes. But, much, much more. Vampires were evil, treacherous and cunning.
    Whatever waited to show itself, whatever had constructed this trap for his lifemate, waited beneath the ground and it felt far, far more evil than any vampire he'd ever encountered in all his centuries of hunting.
    His heart lurched. Run. Do not stand and fight. Can you not feel it? Run while you can, before it reveals itself . He gave the command telepathically, "pushing" as hard as he dared with another creature of unknown power so close.
    Virkirnoff shifted at the last possible moment, landing directly in front of the woman, shielding her with his body against the attacking vampire. He was hit simultaneously from the front and back. Natalya clawed his back, rending his flesh from the back of his neck to his waist while the vampire Arturo exploded into action, tearing at his chest with razor-sharp talons, shrieking with rage as he dug to get at Vikirnoff's heart.
    Vikirnoff would accept death at the hands of his lifemate, but never a vampire. He slammed his fist through the chest cavity, ignoring the pain searing through him as the vampire's talons dug deeper through flesh and bone and acid blood poured over his arm and hand.
    Damn it! You could have let me know you were joining the battle . The attack ended abruptly from behind him and he sensed her fury mixed with guilt.
    For a moment there was only the sound of heavy breathing, the outraged scream of the vampire and the terrible pain coursing through his own body. The vampire dissolved, flowing away from him in droplets of mist, a vapor of gray mixed with bright red. Vikirnoff staggered, nearly going to his knees before shoving the pain into some corner of his mind where he could ignore it.
    The second vampire, Henrik, dragged yet another knife from his body with a horrific scream and a spray of blood. "Dead," he snarled, the word so slurred it was nearly impossible to understand. "You're dead."
    Look