Carpathian 23 - Dark Storm

frightening than the other. Tales
     of bloodless victims and the tortures and horrors they’d endured before being murdered.
    “Are you talking vampires?”
    She blinked. He’d slipped that question in so casually. Too casually. Ben Charger
     had a deeper agenda than mining for traveling to the barely explored region. Old legends?
     Could he want to write? Whatever his reasons, Riley was certain they had nothing to
     do with mining. She frowned, thinking it over. Could the evil entity whispered about
     be a vampire? The myth of the vampire seemed to have existed in every ancient culture.
    “I honestly have no idea. I’ve never heard whatever the entity is called a vampire,
     but the languages have changed so much over the years, quite a bit is lost in translation.
     I suppose it’s possible. Vampire bats play an important part in Inca culture and among
     the Chachapoyas as well. At least based on what little my mom’s told me and what I’ve
     managed to learn on my own. There isn’t a lot to go on.”
    “Fascinating,” Ben said. “If we get a chance, I’d like to hear more. I find cultures
     interesting, and here, in this part of the rain forest, the tribes and stories seemed
     to be shrouded in mystery, which intrigues me all the more. I’m a bit of an amateur
     writer and I take every opportunity when exploring a new region to learn as much as
     I can about old myths. I find that no matter where I go, certain legendary creatures
     have infiltrated the cultures all over the world. It’s intriguing.”
    At a soft sound, Riley turned to find her mother standing close. Annabel was unguarded
     for a moment, her face swollen with bites, her eyes watchful and very suspicious of
     Ben. Riley stared at her in surprise. Her mother was the most open, gentle woman Riley
     had ever been around. She didn’t have a mean, suspicious bone in her body. As a rule
     she shared information, was at ease with everyone, and most people gravitated toward
     her. Riley always felt protective toward her mother because she was so trusting where
     Riley wasn’t.
    Annabel blinked and the look of suspicion was gone, leaving her mother simply looking
     at Ben. Riley felt a little as if her world was spinning. Nothing, no one—not even
     her mother—seemed familiar. “You should be resting, Mom. So many bites can make you
     sick.”
    Annabel shook her head. “I’m okay. The gel Gary gave me is very soothing. It took
     the itch away, and you know the bites aren’t poisonous. Gary and his friend must be
     very good at studying the properties of plants, because the gel really works.”
    Ben glanced over at the two men. Although both were clearly American, Gary and Jubal
     had journeyed from somewhere in Europe to search for a mythical plant with extraordinary
     healing properties that supposedly grew high in the Andes. By the expression on his
     face, he thought both men were slightly insane.
    Annabel took Riley’s hand and they nodded at Ben and moved toward the railing of the
     boat, in the center where they were alone.
    The river narrowed more so that in places the huge root systems of the trees along
     the bank nearly scraped the boat. Lines of bats swayed high in the trees, an eerie
     sight. They were large, hanging upside down up in the thick canopy. Riley had seen
     the sight before, even as a child, but for some strange reason, this time it was disturbing,
     as if the bats were lying in wait, motionless, waiting for dark to begin the hunt—this
     time for human prey. She gave a little shudder at her own dramatic fantasy.
    She was allowing the edginess of close confinement to get to her. She knew better.
     The bats were large and definitely vampire bats—feeding on warm blood—but she doubted
     if their hunger was personal and certainly they weren’t just waiting for an unsuspecting
     boatload of humans to come along.
    She felt eyes on her and turned to see Don Weston staring at her. He grinned and pretended
     to shoot an imaginary rifle at the motionless creatures. Riley turned away. Weston’s
     need to be the center of attention every moment disgusted her. But his reaction to
     the bats was just a little too close to the way she was feeling—and she didn’t want
     to feel anything at all in common with the man.
    She turned her attention back to her mother, taking her hand and gripping it tightly.
     This morning they’d left the main river and begun the journey up the tributary toward
     one of the most remote