Carpathian 16 - Dark Demon

in a pleasant voice, he has to give me the big order. He's really a throwback to the dark ages. You know what I'm talking about, the big caveman pounding his chest."
    "He didn't like you fighting vampires, did he?" Jubal guessed.
    Natalya rolled her eyes. "That's putting it mildly, but at least I know when to run and fight another day. He just wants to take on the world."
    A slow grin spread over Jubal's face. "This is good. Too bad Gary isn't here to witness this one. He loves watching the interplay between the Carpathian male and their women."
    "Where is he?" Natalya asked. She wanted to weep. To claw at the walls and floor. She was not going to fall apart in front of strangers.
    "Gary's in the States at the moment, but he's returning soon," Gabrielle said.
    Natalya was beginning to feel desperate. She had to work at staying focused on the conversation. "Does he fight vampires, too?"
    "In his way, but not physically," Jubal said. "The society"—he frowned—"you have heard of them, haven't you? Humans dedicated to destroying all vampires, but they don't seem to be able to discern the difference between a vampire and a Carpathian. Anyway, the society hates Gary. He's on their hit list."

    "Do you fight vampires?" Natalya asked curiously.
    Jubal spread his hands out in front of him. "I'm not the best at fighting vampires, but I'm learning. I didn't know they existed until a short time ago."
    "Do you use a flame thrower?" Natalya asked. "Do you have one? If I could get my hands on carburetor cleaner, I bet that would work better than hairspray."
    "You're obsessed with flamethrowers."
    " Do you have to kill a vamp a hundred times before he stays dead?" She flexed her aching fingers again. Her muscles were beginning to contract painfully.
    Jubal noticed Natalya's eyes changing color, going from a beautiful sea-green to a strange cloudy opaque. Her tawny hair darkened to a deep black with strange bands beginning to appear through it. He nudged Gabrielle with his foot. She nodded. She'd already seen the signs of agitation and felt the growing danger in the room.
    "Since most of the locals use horse carts I think the chances of you finding a good supply of carburetor cleaner is practically nil," Jubal said.
    "That's such a bummer," Natalya said with a small sigh. "But I did call Slavica earlier and asked her if she'd find me several cans of aerosol hairspray, so I should have a good supply."
    "Has Vikirnoff seen your invention?" Jubal asked.
    Natalya sent him a look promising retribution. "Make fun all you want, but if you're in a battle with the undead and they get up thirty-seven times after you've put them down, a can of hairspray and a lighter are going to be looking really good to you."
    He groaned. "Unfortunately, that might be true. I don't want to have anything to do with those creatures. In fact, I don't even want to know about them."
    Natalya smiled wearily. "Neither do I."
    "Natalya," Gabrielle said. "You keep rubbing your ankle. Are you hurt? I could take a look at it for you. I've actually gone through med school so I might be able to help if you're injured."
    Natalya glanced down at her ankle. She hadn't even realized she was rubbing it. She pulled her leg closer to her. "Unfortunately we couldn't heal it all the way. I don't know how dangerous it would be for you to touch it."
    "I've dealt with hot viruses, Natalya," Gabrielle assured. "Why are you worried about it being dangerous to me?" She sank down onto the floor beside Natalya, gingerly pushing aside a gun and a very sharp knife. "Let me see."

    "This is really an entry wound. I was punctured first, all the way to the bone, and then this happened. Vikirnoff said parasites were able to enter my system through this." Natalya pulled up the cotton pants and showed Gabrielle and Jubal what was left of the handprint branding her leg. "He went in and removed what he could. He said there were microorganisms and he thought he was able to get rid of them, but he couldn't remove this.
    It aches."
    Gabrielle studied the handprint carefully. "It looks like…"
    "Skin," Natalya said. "Cloned skin. It appears to be about approximately one one-hundredth of an inch thick and it has attached itself to the host skin, in this case, my ankle and calf, in the manner of a skin graft."
    "It normally takes five days for grafting to complete," Gabrielle pointed out.
    "That's what is so extraordinary. My blood vessels grew very fast from the underlying host skin tissue to the