Carpathian 16 - Dark Demon

violence. "In all honesty, Vikirnoff, I really don't want to do this."
    "I know. And I understand. No one wants to relive the torture and murder of their parents or grandmother."
    Vikirnoff knelt behind her, knowing she was working up her courage, chattering to cover her hesitation. "I will take the journey with you. When memories become too much to bear, I will do what I can to lessen the pain."
    "What if you're trapped there with me and we can't pull out until every kill has been reenacted? It was your strength that allowed me to get away from the past."
    His arms enfolded her, his hands sliding down her arms to envelop her hands in his.
    "You feel the violence of the knife's past without touching."
    Natalya leaned against his chest, allowing her head to rest on his shoulder. "Yes, but I'm not reading the memories."
    "I want to hold the knife in my hand with your hands around mine, so that your fingers brush the knife, but limiting your physical contact with it. Perhaps that will minimize the risk to you."
    Natalya took a breath and let it out, trying to still her chaotic mind. She'd rather battle ten vampires than read what the knife offered, but all the wishing in the world wasn't going to change what had to be done. "Let's try it, then, Vikirnoff, but if you feel that you can't get us out, drop the knife."
    "I will."
    His breath was warm and comforting on the back of her head as she bent forward again, allowing her to feel his presence without distracting her. She laid her hand over his and nodded to let him know she was ready.
    Vikirnoff reached for the knife. She felt her own heart beating, strong and steady, beginning to accelerate. Her muscles began to knot painfully.
    I am with you.
    She felt him, strong and solid behind her, his arms around her, there for her. With her—
    and that meant everything. She drew courage from his presence and her fingers brushed the handle of the knife. Instantly she felt the curving of time, the wrenching pull that dragged her into the past and deeper into the violent memories the knife contained.
    The concentrated fear of so many victims rushed toward her, surrounded her and invaded her mind and soul. Immediately she focused on the feel of Vikirnoff's hand, the shape and size of it, the warmth of his skin. The mounting terror lessened enough for her to slide past, reaching for the reenactment she needed. There seemed to be so many souls wailing with grief and crying for justice. She knew whatever the knife needed to show her had to have occurred farther in the past before her father's death. He had to have hidden the book and spilled blood on the knife.
    My father wouldn't have sacrificed someone to leave behind the information. The reenactment would be much fainter than the ones with more violence. That would explain how I missed it the first time.
    Slow down. You are moving so fast I cannot catch even glimpses of what has occurred.
    I feel the level of violence and know it is not what I want and I don't want to know what else Xavier has done or whom he killed … Her voice trailed off and she halted abruptly to find herself in the crystal cave. She looked around her carefully.
    What is it?
    Razvan. I feel him. His presence is strong in this time period.
    Vikirnoff inhaled sharply, wanting to tighten his arms protectively around Natalya and order her out of there. How long ago was this ?
    I can't tell. Recently, I think. I haven't felt the presence of my father yet.
    Vikirnoff's instincts shrieked at him. This is unnecessary. You do not need to witness any violence Razvan commits. Keep moving, Natalya .

    She wanted to see her brother. She wanted to witness with her own eyes his betrayal. It seemed the only way to make herself believe that he had gone over to the side of the vampires, to Xavier, was to see the extent of his betrayal. Stubbornly she watched as her brother sauntered into the ice chamber. He carried the ceremonial knife in his hand and his eyes were glittering with some fierce emotion.
    You cannot . Vikirnoff inserted a mild push into his voice, not wanting to take command of her, but the taste in his mouth was bitter with warning. Razvan looked far too much like Xavier in his youth; a madman bent on accumulating power over others. Xavier had grown in power and stature very quickly with his natural talent and he became convinced that he was destined to rule the world. The corruption of a once-great sorcerer was complete when he discovered the rush of power the