Carpathian 23 - Dark Storm

watching over my lifemate.” There was a small edge to
     his voice, the first of the night. “I will return tomorrow eve. See to it that she
     is well.” He looked around. “You will need to find a place easier to protect. Mitro
     is capable of sending anything at you. He will know I will work to keep you safe,
     and above all else, he wants Riley dead. He believes her to be Arabejila. I’m certain
     of it.”
    “Just up ahead, there’s a small hollowed-out clearing,” Jubal said. “I noticed it
     when we first hit the base of the mountain. It’s protected on three sides by boulders
     with a small stream on the other side. We can set up a tent there with netting for
     Riley.”
    Dax checked the location with a judicious eye and then added safeguards to keep out
     any threat. “I will return.”
    He took to the air with great reluctance, streaking away from them. He had little
     time. Mitro would hunt for blood before he went to ground, and he was in a rage. He
     would do as much damage as possible. Dax went back to the spot where the two dragons
     had fought. Blackened pools of acid stained the ground, and burned through any plant
     or tree that had been left standing on the side of the mountain close by.
    The mountain was ravaged by the mud and fires. Still, everything seemed so different,
     new to his eyes. Even with the powdery ash settling on the trees and brush at the
     base of the mountain, and choking the air, he could still discern color, a gift from
     his lifemate. Blacks were vivid and bright. Whites and glimpses of green and brown
     sent a small frisson of joy through him in spite of his grim task. In a way he was
     grateful for the ash. The colors were so unique to him, so vivid and brilliant, they
     almost hurt his eyes.
    He picked up the scent immediately. Mitro was gravely wounded and had no energy to
     waste on hiding from Dax. He would expect the hunter to go to ground near the humans,
     not chase after him.
    Once more Dax took to the sky, using the form of an owl. The owl’s vision provided
     him with the ability to see so much more and its small body would barely be noticed.
     As it was, with the ash in the air, Dax was forced to send a wind in front of him
     to clear the skies enough to see anything unusual. Mitro wouldn’t have gotten far
     without blood. He crisscrossed the area patiently, widening his circle until the owl
     caught sight of something lying near the stream.
    Immediately, Dax descended, the owl settling in a tree above and to the right of the
     scattered objects below. A heaviness in his chest, along with the knots in his stomach
     forewarned him. There were two bodies, both had tried to run, and had died hard, screaming
     in fright. Their eyes remained wide open, mouths still forming their last cries, both
     throats shredded. Bright ribbons of blood streaked their bodies. Mitro had always
     been a messy eater.
    Inside the body of the owl, Dax sighed. He had known Mitro would find blood; he was
     too cunning not to. The rain forest was a big place, and there were few humans anywhere
     near the mountain, yet unerringly, Mitro had been drawn to them.
    Dax shifted into mist and drifted down to study the two bodies. Both appeared to be
     native to the forest, although dressed in the same way as Gary and Jubal. A machete
     lay inches from one of the bodies, its blade stained dark. He moved over the second
     body, and found what he expected. Blood had seeped from under the body where he’d
     been cut multiple times by the machete. That was just like Mitro, forcing someone
     to hack up a friend or loved one for the vampire’s amusement.
    Mitro was definitely up to his old tricks. He hadn’t been an hour or so out of his
     prison and he was already killing and torturing. Sorrow pressed down on him, an unexpected
     emotion. So many lost years attempting to destroy a depraved, vile creature, and failing
     time and again. Having to look upon the aftermath of the undead’s path of destruction
     over and over was far more wearing than he’d realized. Now, with his ability to feel,
     Dax was weighed down by every single one of those lives lost over the centuries.
    At once he felt a stirring, a brushing of souls. His. The Old One’s. Hers. His heart leapt. The burden of destroying Mitro was his, but he wasn’t alone.
    Ours, the Old One corrected.
    A soft whisper stroked a caress in his mind. Ours, Riley’s voice echoed.
    Dax was not alone. He would find Mitro and destroy