Carpathian 23 - Dark Storm

inside them. That’s what we tried to tell you
     before. The vampires aren’t just evil; they’ve chosen to be evil. They choose to give up their souls because they feel a rush when they
     kill while feeding. They relish the hate, the destruction, the corruption. There’s
     no worse monster on this earth than the vampire. And the Carpathians like Dax hunt
     them. And Riley, something you need to understand is that some of the vampires they
     hunt were once their friends. Maybe even family members. It takes a very strong person
     to bear a burden like that.”
    Riley struggled to wrap her head around the information Gary was sharing. Rationally,
     she had a hard time believing in vampires and shapeshifters, but she’d seen them herself.
     She couldn’t deny they existed. But then, she knew magic existed—the sort of magic
     that defied rational thought. She possessed it herself, as had her mother before her.
     The hardest part to come to grips with was the idea that Dax wasn’t yet a vampire
     but might become one. Seeing the image of Dax, standing before her as red and gold
     flecks fell down all around him, his eyes so focused and yet so lost.
    Riley pushed her hand under the corner of her sleeping pad she was sitting on. Her
     fingertips touched the tent floor. The vinyl felt cool against her hand. Her fingertips
     began to tingle as her connection to the earth grew stronger. She pushed into the
     plastic, gaining comfort the closer she got to the packed dirt underneath the tent.
     To her surprise, the thin plastic material seemed to dissolve beneath her hand, giving
     her access to the earth, which parted easily, as if welcoming her exploration.
    “So Dax hunts these vampires, the ones like this Mitro who escaped from the volcano,”
     Riley summarized. “But Dax is Carpathian, which means he has this same evil growing
     inside of him as Mitro. And if he doesn’t suicide in the sun, he’ll eventually become
     a vampire as well.”
    The image of Dax’s broken body, his wounds open to the night sky, flooded through
     her. But even though he’d surely been in agony, he’d regarded her with such warmth
     and such wonder, his eyes filled with emotion. Hadn’t he? Her heart seemed to stutter
     at the idea of him turning vampire. He was noble. Filled with courage. He’d touched
     her with such gentleness. She couldn’t believe that there was evil in him. He was
     capable of violence, but evil? The idea was so devastating she could barely breathe.
    Seeking solace, she used her fingertips to move through the earth. It was odd they
     moved through the packed soil with almost no resistance, as if she were running her
     hand through still water. The earth seemed to be singing under her hands.
    With her fingers in the soil, if she didn’t think about the why, and the how, instead
     focused on the song that was all around her, she could sense all the others in the
     camp. She knew where they were, what they were doing. Then, abruptly, she froze, her
     body turning cold from fear at the thought that Dax was gone.
    “Gary, where is Dax right now?”
    “He’s resting at the moment. Like I said, Carpathians and the sun don’t get along
     too well, although it doesn’t seem to affect Dax quite as strongly.”
    “Gary,” she said very coolly. “Answer the question.”
    “Dax wanted to stay close just in case Mitro or some other threat came up and we needed
     him.”
    Riley’s eyes widened and she jumped to her feet. Gary, taken by surprise, fell over
     backward in his attempt to get out of her way.
    “He’s right underneath us isn’t he?” She looked down, scanning the tent floor. She felt him, and relief flooded every part of her. He was close. She would see him again.
    Gary got to his feet and righted his stool. “I honestly don’t know. The location of
     their resting place isn’t something Carpathians share, for obvious reasons, but that
     would make the most sense. He wants to keep you safe.”
    Riley knew Dax was there. Maybe they weren’t supposed to know his exact resting place, but the
     earth whispered to her. And she knew. There was a man, a Carpathian, buried underneath
     her. She looked down at her feet. She was standing on him. Well, not actually standing
     on him, she corrected herself silently. To be perfectly technical about it, the tent
     just happened to be pitched over ground that contained Dax’s sleeping body.
    “I hope he doesn’t expect me to help dig him out,” she