Carpathian 21 - Dark Peril

again humming, frogs were croaking and the rain had let up to a fine silvery mist.

    5

    When you meet me,
    You complete me.
    You bring me back to life again.

    DOMINIC TO SOLANGE

    D ominic took another slow look at the other four vampires surrounding them. To say it was unusual to have so many of the undead gathered would be putting it mildly. There was still the matter of whatever Drago was fawning over. Dominic didn’t so much as glance at Zacarias, but the other Carpathian had nerves of steel. He could feel the hunger pouring off the vampires. They had arisen with voracious appetites and he presumed the humans at the laboratory were strictly off limits if they wanted to keep up the façade that they were helping to track and kill vampires—the Carpathians being the supposed vampires. That meant Zacarias was food for all of them.

    Drago smirked. “I think you are outnumbered.”

    Dominic’s eyebrow shot up. “Really?” He flexed his shoulders. “The prize is mine. I claimed him and no one— no one —will take him from me.”

    A snarl went up around the loose circle. Dominic gave a little ground, mostly so he and Zacarias could fight back-to-back. Normally Dominic preferred to simply strike without any foreplay, but he suspected there was one other that hadn’t yet joined the party, and that meant continuing his outraged vampire act.

    “You think that traveling with this pack will intimidate me, Drago? That one”—Dominic indicated the vampire of slight stature he’d encountered on the battlefields—“is a worm, crawling on his belly from every battle. He will be of no use to you.” His voice was filled with contempt. “And then there is this one.”
    Dominic indicated the best dressed of the group. He was taller and more filled out, his form kept tidy, the serrated teeth barely blackened. “Jason, a fop who prefers colorful clothes to getting the job done. You amuse me, Drago, with your choice of warriors. You cannot fight yourself and you have no eye for those who will aid you in battle.”

    A murmur of protest went up, but none of them dared to attack, not without permission, and not when Dominic appeared so confident. Spittle burst from Drago’s mouth as he shrieked a protest. His hand gripped something hard at mid hip, his sharp, pointed nails digging deep into whatever he had been stroking.

    Smoke and flames burst out from under his fist, and Drago screamed and pulled his hand away. Blistered and raw, the flesh fell away from the bones. A shadow took substance. Drago scrambled back, moaning, holding his hand to his chest. The other three vampires put distance between them and the developing apparition, gliding, trying to be subtle about it. Dominic and Zacarias remained unmoving.

    The man emerging from the shadows was tall with broad shoulders and long flowing hair, his skin flawless, his clothes immaculate. His dark eyes rested on Dominic for a brief moment, slid over Zacarias and then went back to Dominic. The imposing figure of power, clearly a master , was not one of the Malinov brothers. Somehow, against every odd, the twisted brothers had managed to recruit other masters to serve them.

    Demyan of the Tiranul lineage. Dimitri’s brother. We thought him dead these years. Dominic identified the master to Zacarias. We grew up with him. He is a master at battle.

    New emotions were difficult to control; he had been friends with Demyan. They had traveled for a time together, battling the enemy, slaying any vampires they came across. Sorrow welled up, intense, shaking him for a moment. The Tiranul family had been famous as master swordsmen, and he was certain Demyan would never give up his love of the blade. The undead inclined his head.

    “I see you are in disguise and these imbeciles did not recognize you.” The voice was mesmerizing. Pitched low.

    Dominic had forgotten the power in that ensnaring voice. He shifted his features, hiding every scar so that he looked as Demyan remembered him. Dominic knew he had been a handsome man by any standards, long before he had been burned in the fight to save the prince. He allowed his long black hair to flow neatly down his back in a ponytail, tied with the thin leather cord, always a weapon should one need it.

    “Much better. Dominic Dragonseeker.”

    Dominic inclined his head regally. “These . . .” He swept his hand in a contemptuous circle to indicate the vampires surrounding him. He didn’t bother to look at the offenders,