Carpathian 21 - Dark Peril

the rain, inhaled the scent of it, and there was an edge of pleasure in the sensation. It was frustrating, to almost catch the feeling, and yet it eluded him. It wasn’t simply a byproduct of ingesting the vampire blood—he’d begun “dreaming” much earlier. And the dreams took place while he was awake.

    He was suspicious of all things that didn’t make sense. He wasn’t a man prone to dreams or fantasies, and this mythical woman was becoming too much a part of his life—of him. She was tricking him into thinking she was a true lifemate—a reality instead of a myth—yet here in the land where myths and legends came to life, he could almost convince himself she was real. But even if she was, it was far too late. The continual pain clawing at his belly told him his time had run its course and he had to carry out his plan to infiltrate the enemy camp, gain their plans, send the information to Zacarias De La Cruz and then kill as many vampires as he could before he went down. He chose to go out fighting for his people.

    He shifted, taking the form of the lord of the skies—the harpy eagle. The bird was larger than normal, and the harpies were already large birds. His wingspan was a good seven feet, his talons enormous. The form would help to protect him as he went into the sunlight before reaching the relative shelter of the canopy. He hopped on the ground and into the light. In spite of the heavy rain, the light burst over him. Smoke rose from the dark feathers, pouring off the bird’s form. He’d suffered burns and his body remained ravaged with the scars, although they’d eased over time, but he would never forget that pain. It was branded into his very bones.

    Sharply sucking in his breath, he forced himself to spread his wings and rise toward that hideous burning mass of heat. The rain sizzled over him, spitting and hissing like an angry cat as the large bird took flight, wings flapping hard to get height to take him into the trees. The light nearly blinded him, and inside the eagle, he shrank away from the rays, no matter how diffused by the rain. It seemed to take forever to cross the thirty feet, although the bird was in the trees almost immediately. It just took a few moments to realize the sun was no longer directly on his feathers. The sounds of hissing and spitting gave way once again to the calling of the birds and monkeys, this time in sharp alarm.

    Below him, a porcupine dropped the figs he’d been dining on as the shadow of the eagle passed overhead.
    Two female spider monkeys, drunk on fermented fruit, stared up at him. The Amazon rain forest passed through eight borders, extending through the countries with its own diverse life forms. A silky anteater climbing in the branches of a tree paused to gaze at him with a wary eye. Bright red and blue macaws called warnings as he flew above them, but he ignored them, expanding his circle ever wider to take in more and more territory.

    The eagle moved noiselessly through the forest, as high as the canopy would allow, without emerging above it, covering miles. He needed the shelter of the twisted limbs and heavy foliage to block the light.
    With the eyes of the harpy eagle he could see something as small as an inch from more than two hundred yards. He could fly at speeds of up to fifty miles per hour if he was in open territory, and drop with dizzying speed if needed.

    Now, eyesight was the primary reason for having chosen the eagle’s form. He spotted hundreds of frogs and lizards dotting the branches and trunks as he swept by. Snakes coiled along twisted limbs, hiding among blossoms drenched in rain. A margay shrank deeper into the foliage of a tall Kapok tree, its large eyes fixed on prey. The eagle dipped lower, inspecting the overgrown vegetation. Limestone blocks lay half buried in debris, strewn about as if by a willful hand. A sinkhole shimmered with blue water, testifying to the presence of an underground river.

    The eagle continued to expand his circle, covering more and more miles, until he found what he was looking for. The bird settled high in the branches of tall tree on the edge of a man-made clearing. A large building made of steel and bolts had been brought in piece by piece and constructed sometime in the last year. Growth around it had been encouraged, presumably with an eye to hiding it, but there hadn’t been enough time for the forest to reclaim lost terrain.

    Something had blown a hole through the metal from the