Carpathian 17 - Dark Curse

spare her a glance, his entire attention on controlling Terry. She glanced over at Gregori. The healer actually had Mikhail pressed against the wall, but the concentration on his face indicated he was with Nicolas, restraining Terry.
    Terry lay back on the bed, eyes unfocused, but his body calm, no longer fighting. Lara let her breath out slowly. Gregori motioned to Mikhail to leave and Mikhail flicked one look at him. He wasn\'t going anywhere and it was evident on his face-in his eyes.
    \"Get to work,\" Mikhail ordered.
    Gregori shrugged his broad shoulders and once more, using pure healing energy, entered Terry\'s body.
    \"What\'s going on?\" Gerald asked, scrambling off the bed and moving around the Carpathian healer toward Lara.
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    Christine Feehan: Dark Curse
    Nicolas glided, cutting off Gerald\'s route. \"You have blood all over your shirt. You should go take a shower.\"
    \"He\'s right, Gerald,\" Lara agreed. \"It isn\'t safe. Burn your clothes. Anything you were wearing today.\"
    Gerald halted, glanced at Terry, yanked the door open and hurried out to his room across the hall.
    Lara leaned one hip against the wall and watched as Nicolas joined Gregori, the two of them working furiously, in tandem, to save Terry\'s life. And it was a struggle for his life-for his soul. The parasites were desperate to take him over, to possess his body and mind and turn him to their master\'s bidding.
    The men worked nonstop, and time slipped away. Both grew paler until they were nearly gray in color and eventually sank onto the bed beside Terry. Mikhail once again calmly tore at his wrist and pressed his offering to Nicolas.
    She tried not to look at the bright red blood. She tried not to see Nicolas holding the prince\'s arm, his fingers gripping as the life force flowed from Mikhail into him, yet she was mesmerized and couldn\'t look away.
    Her wrist burned. Her lungs burned. She shivered, her body cold no matter how much she tried to restore and equalize her body\'s temperature. The walls around her curved and took on a bluish tinge. She sucked in her breath, trying to focus on the wall above the prince, but her gaze-and mind-were continually pulled back to the sight of the blood where it trickled down on his arm, smeared a little on Nicolas\'s fingers and dripped to the floor.
    Her stomach lurched. Desperate, she locked on to Terry\'s face. That, too, was a mistake. She imagined the parasites swarming through his bloodstream to his every organ, launching a massive attack, fighting the healer and Nicolas for possession of him.
    Sweat beaded on her forehead. Terry\'s face wavered, his boyish features changing, morphing until he was undeniably handsome, with blazing turquoise eyes and midnight black hair spilling across his forehead. The hair streaked with waves of silver. The eyes opened and locked with hers.
    Her breath caught in her lungs. Agony there. Awareness. Impotent fury. Fear. So much fear the room filled with it. The walls bulged outward, unable to contain such terror.
    Run. Run, Lara. Hide. She heard the sob in his voice, the overwhelming horror.
    Nicolas found himself shivering with cold in an ice chamber. Chained to a wall, arms and chest burning from links coated with acidic vampire blood, Razvan fought to maintain possession of his own soul. Agony lived in his eyes and his black hair banded with platinum.
    Lara. The voice whispered with love. With fear. With despair. Baby. Run. He is coming and I cannot protect you .
    Nicolas felt terror rising, choking him. He swung his head to peer into the corner. The female child was older this time. Maybe four or five. She huddled against the wall, trembling, tears running down her face, her heart beating so loudly he could hear it above his own steady rhythm.
    Dragging footsteps came from behind. Nicolas turned and saw a hideous creature, part skeleton, part man coming toward them. Skin hung in places yet was drawn tight in others. All flesh was decayed and rotting. A few long strands of gray hair tufted from his bald head. A straggly beard hung to his chest, but vermin crawled Page 35

    Christine Feehan: Dark Curse
    in and out of the dank hair, moving continually. His nails were yellow and long, curving back on his gnarled hands. Rotted, black teeth flashed in a macabre, evil smirk. His eyes were alive in what was left of his face, a slashing light of glowing, silvery madness.
    Fear escalated until Nicolas\'s own heartbeat began to change, hammering hard in