Carpathian 17 - Dark Celebration

tried to tone down the volume, but the sound only seemed louder, almost booming through the caves.
    Manolito halted, placing his body between Mikhail's and the cavern. "I don't like this."
    "I haven't liked any of this for a long time," Mikhail answered.
    They both studied the passageway. They were only a few feet from the entrance. Light from snow and ice spilled along the opening for several feet as if in invitation. Small formations of ice had formed on the ceiling of the passageway, long, narrow spears of various colors.
    Manolito shook his head, holding up his hand. "Let me go first. Just wait here and see if I trigger a trap, or perhaps we can move through as vapor and see what happens."
    "If they're here, we want to know it. Your brother lies asleep with his lifemate. One of our women is about to give birth. We have to know if our enemies have invaded our chambers as well."
    Manolito nodded and took several cautious steps, keeping an eye on the ice spears overhead. With each step he took, the ice rippled as if a vibration had gone through it.
    "Go to mist," Manolito instructed the prince, concern shadowing his mind.
    Dirt and ice spewed into the air right at the prince's feet, a geyser of soil spraying high between the hunter and Mikhail, opening the earth where Mikhail would have stepped.
    "Go! Get out of here," Manolito ordered, swinging back.
    The hole widened and deepened with blurring speed, a yawning crevice cracking beneath the prince even as he began to dissolve into vapor. A clawed hand reached from the dark hole and wrapped around Mikhail's ankle, talons biting deep into flesh. The hold prevented the change and the creature jerked hard, determined to drag the prince beneath the ground.
    A collective gasp went up from the Carpathian people. It was Mikhail who connected them together. Mikhail who provided the common path of communication, and it was Mikhail who held the past and future together with the present for the Carpathian people.
    They all knew the moment he was in trouble—under attack.
    Raven's soft cry of distress only added to the alarm and shock.
    Manolito ignored it all, dissolved into vapor, sliding through the geyser of soil to the other side. Mikhail struggled to stay out of the gaping hole ripped in the floor of the passageway. The talons had torn two holes in his ankles. Mikhail could feel the razor tips of the vampire's claws meeting in his very flesh. The creature gulped his blood, teeth trying to tear at his flesh for more, all the while making hideous noises, as he wrenched at Mikhail's leg in an effort to drag him below to his lair.

    Vampire, yet not . Mikhail sent to Manolito.
    Manolito dove straight into the ground, aiming for the creature's upturned face. At the last instant before contact, he shifted form into that of a harpy eagle, the great curved beak, razor-sharp talons curved and wicked. He went straight for the eyes. As he entered the killing grounds of the unknown creature—a mixture of vampire and something hideously evil, he thought of MaryAnn. I am sorry .
    For one brief moment he felt her awareness, bewildered and frightened. He touched her mind, one brief caress, and he let her go. Better not to have found her than to take her with him to the grave. And entering the burrow of an unknown enemy was tantamount to suicide. The prince had to be protected and there was no hesitation on his part. If his life was forfeit, his people would still go on.
    The eagle ripped at the vampire's red-rimmed eyes, shredding skin over the throat and chest, digging deep and fast in an effort to force the creature to give up its prey. It had no choice, not if it wanted to survive. The abomination wrenched its claws from Mikhail's ankle and stabbed viciously at the eagle.
    Go! Go! Get out of here ! Manolito shouted at Mikhail as the dirt and rocks began pouring in over his head. One rock hit the eagle hard, knocking it sideways so one great wing crumpled. Manolito switched forms, trying to get a purchase in the soft dirt to get out before the rapidly filling dirt could close over his head. He used his hands to catch at roots to hold himself up as he kicked at the clawing creature with his foot. The dirt and debris rained on his head, filled his mouth so that he spat and closed his eyes, once more shifting to stay alive beneath the dirt.
    Mikhail swore as the hole closed, trapping the hunter beneath the ground. He shifted to the body of a badger, plowing his way through the layers of