Carpathian 17 - Dark Curse

you to risk yourself. Wait for me.
    This time that thin veneer of civilization cracked and she could feel the edge to his voice. Her stomach lurched. She gasped and pushed herself harder, increasing her speed, using her night vision in the dark confines of the cave. She couldn\'t think about how deep she was or the maze of tunnels that ran miles beneath the mountain. The only objective had to be to get out as fast as she could. She rounded a corner and the corridor divided into two paths.
    The air is heavy in the cave, difficult to breathe, to run fast. Each step is harder. You are sinking into sand, your legs heavy. You are so tired, Lara. Why not sit and rest. Your mind is confused and the directions are fading from your memory.
    The voice was low and insidious, filling her head, the compulsion spreading through her body. She stumbled, confused, and halted, twisting this way and that.
    It is becoming difficult to see in the dark. You should stay still.
    Stop it! \"Stop it!\" Lara repeated, shouted aloud.
    Her voice echoed through the caverns, disturbing returning bats. The creatures took to the air, wheeling and fluttering, thousands of them, filling the spaces around her. It was difficult to breathe, and impossible to move.
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    Christine Feehan: Dark Curse
    She stood there, trembling, waiting, held prisoner by the mesmerizing voice. She felt the surge of power in the chamber heralding his arrival, and the bats immediately renewed their aerial acrobatic performance.
    Lara forced herself to take a breath. She had to resist him. She could see in the dark. She was unafraid of bats.
    The earth pressing down on her didn\'t bother her, yet here she was cowering in the cavern, afraid to move, her body feeling clunky, leaden.
    I am mage. I am Dragonseeker. You will have to do more than trick me with your voice, Carpathian. Fury burned through her, scorching the shackles of compulsion into ashes.
    I can do much more. Do not arouse the demon in me, Lara. Dawn is breaking. The sun is rising.
    He was close. She sensed him coming closer. Tilting her chin, she called energy to her, lifting her arms and clearing her mind, accepting the power so that her hair crackled and a faint glow threw the cave into soft light, agitating the bats more.
    Those that fly and are of the night, protect me now with winged flight. Gather together, become as one, remove yourselves with the rising sun.
    The bats circled, fast and tight, the ball growing larger as they obeyed her command, rising upward and streaming toward a recess in the dark cavern. Lara struck hard at Nicolas, sensing his weakness with the rising sun, retaliating with another spell.
    Whispering voice inside my head, I fear you not, nor your leaden web. Voice that seduces, whispers and binds, I return the intent to thine own mind. Let the words stop and take away, that which would hinder or hamper my way.
    The moment the last words left her mind, she was on the move, running fast, throwing up barriers and shields in her mind, to prevent Nicolas access. He tore each wall down easily, shredding her defenses as fast as she built them. Each time he penetrated into her mind, he sent compulsions to slow her step, to misdirect her the wrong way, confuse her so that she thought she was disoriented and she retaliated with more spells to counter each thing he did.
    She fought him every step of the way, aware as she did, of his enormous power, of how he held back when he could have crushed her resistance. Instead of giving her confidence, his restraint only added to her fears. What did he want from her? Her Dragonseeker blood? She knew it ran strong in her veins, rich and filled with energy and power and immortality. Her father had told her many times how valuable and unique the strength in her blood was. Her great-grandfather had stalked her repeatedly, his grotesque body crawling with worms, rotting flesh sloughing off as he pursued her in an effort to claim her blood for himself.
    Now, here in the cave, she felt the same terror blossoming as she ran, her heart pounding too hard, and she could smell the strong odor of decomposing flesh. She gagged, a sob welling up, as she threw one look over her shoulder to see if the old man again pursued her.
    Shadows moved. A hand stretched out, closer and closer. She felt hot breath on her skin, her neck. The twin marks over her pulse throbbed. Was Nicolas creating an illusion, twisting buried memories? Was he despicable enough to do such a thing?