Carpathian 16 - Dark Demon

realized she had blood smeared all over her. Most of it belonged to Vikirnoff.
    "I'm fine. I have someone with me I need to get up to my room, but I don't want anyone to see us. Will you help me? He's injured."
    "How bad?" Slavica was practical.
    Natalya grinned at her. "You're so great. Thank you. He's in bad shape. He's lost way too much blood but I can't take him to a hospital."
    "There is a hidden stairway," Slavica confided. "This inn was built on the site of an old monastery and part of that building was retained and incorporated into the inn. Only our family uses the stairs and rooms for our living quarters."
    "If you wouldn't mind keeping a lookout, I'll go get him," Natalya said. The relief sweeping through her was tremendous.
    Natalya hurried out the kitchen door and ran down the path leading to the dense shrubbery where she had left the hunter. She skidded to a halt when she saw him, slumped, his eyes closed, his face pale, almost gray and small dots of blood beading on his brow. Her heart jumped and her stomach rolled. "Vikirnoff? Do you think you can walk the last few yards to the room?" She couldn't very well become a tiger again, but he looked so worn and pale it frightened her.
    He opened his eyes and managed to climb to his feet with her aid. He stood swaying unsteadily until she slipped her arm around him. "Just a few more minutes and you can lie down." Natalya encouraged him.
    "This place is dangerous," he told Natalya as they entered through the kitchen. He offered a tentative smile to Slavica when she gave an alarmed gasp. "I didn't mean to startle you."
    "I'm honored to have you, sir. My home is your home." Slavica curtsied, her hand going protectively to her throat. "This way, quickly. The workers will be here any moment to prepare the food. You must hurry."
    Vikirnoff stiffened, holding up his hand for silence as he glanced toward the kitchen door. Muted voices drifted toward them. He waved his hand and the voices faded, the workers moving away from the room.
    Natalya felt the shiver of pain rippling through his body as he expended energy to send the kitchen help away. She took a better grip on his waist and urged him toward the back of the room where Slavica pulled open a panel in the corner. The stairs led both to a door into the private residence and upward to the second story.
    "Just a few more minutes," Natalya whispered. She wished he'd complain just once. Her ankles and side throbbed and burned and her injuries weren't nearly as severe as his, yet Vikirnoff was silent, not even grunting when his battered body was jarred as they went up the narrow stairs. He barely leaned his weight on her, careful of her side, but every once in a while his palm settled over her injury. Each time he did she felt warmth and the pain lessened, but she noted he became weaker and much paler.
    "Stop it," she hissed. "I mean it. I've had a hundred wounds like this. I know when they're bad and mine isn't. The vampires were being careful not to inflict any grave injury on me. I can deal with it later." She pushed open the door to her room and halted, inhaling deeply.
    "Someone has been in here."
    Slavica shook her head. "The maids clean in the morning hours. You left in the evening.
    They would have been finished."
    "There is no one here now," Vikirnoff said, "but a man has been in this room recently.
    He smells of pipe tobacco and cologne."
    "The man from the bar last night," Natalya said. "What is his name, Slavica?" She helped Vikirnoff to the bed.
    "Barstow, Brent Barstow. He comes through our village several times a year. He says he's on business, but…" The innkeeper trailed off shaking her head.

    Vikirnoff glanced at her sharply. "But he makes you uneasy."
    "Very uneasy," Slavica conceded. "And he's asked questions of my daughter Angelina. I didn't like his questions."
    "Questions about…" Vikirnoff prompted.
    Natalya felt his pain as if it were her own as he stood there swaying, probing the innkeeper. She had the urge to just knock him unconscious, throw him on the bed and be done with it.
    "He wishes to know about the people residing in this area," Slavica answered.
    The moment Vikirnoff sank down onto the soft blankets he turned his face away, but not before Natalya caught another much sharper ripple of pain he couldn't quite hide. She couldn't prevent herself from brushing strands of black hair off his brow. "Slavica's a nurse, a healer. She can help you."
    "She must attend your injuries first," he