Rand screamed as the razor-sharp talons ripped into his chest, sought his pulsating heart. “Shea! Hear me! Join with me! Save me now! I am your father! You must join with me to save me from this monster tearing insanely at my flesh!”

Jacques reached for the organ, tore it free, and flung it far from the vampire. “You are dead, vampire, and you go, I hope, to some semblance of peace. The crimes you have committed against me and my family are avenged. You go to meet your God and his mercy. I feel none toward you. You would have taken her with you had you been able to do so. Carpathian justice has been dispensed.”

Rand staggered forward, his gray face slack, tainted blood flowing freely. His mouth working convulsively, he fell to his knees. Jacques leapt back from the thrashing body, careful that the grasping claws did not touch him, that not one speck of the dark blood splattered on him. His hand was burning as he wiped it clean in the shriveling grass.

The air around them stilled, the wind completely silent. The earth seemed to groan. An eerie steam rose from the wriggling body, mixed with a noxious odor. Jacques instinctively moved farther away from the spectacle. Vampires died hard; all fought to overcome death with every trick they had. The tainted blood trickled across the ground toward Jacques’ boots, guided by the dying vampire’s last evil thoughts. Jacques watched without emotion as the vampire crawled toward him, inched his way closer and closer, his face twisted with depravity, with hatred.

Jacques shook his head. “You hated yourself, Rand. You hated yourself all these years. All of you had to do was find the courage to follow her. Maggie would have saved your soul.”

Low, pitiful growls escaped from the hideous mouth, blood spewed forth, and Rand collapsed in front of Jacques, still reaching for him, still determined in his last moment to kill.

Jacques inhaled sharply, caught his first whiff of fresh, clean air, and knew the vampire had fully expired. With a little sigh he carried the bodies of the hunters to an open area and carefully collected what dry branches he could find. There could be no evidence left of this night. The vampire, too, had to be completely consumed by the fire so that there was no chance the tainted blood could find a way to revive him. The power of the vampire’s blood was incredible.

Weakness was becoming an increasing concern for Jacques. The fight had used up his last energies, and he still had to create and maintain a huge conflagration in the midst of a rain-soaked forest.

The wolf howled again, this time much closer, obviously loping toward the scene of death and destruction, perhaps drawn by the smell of blood. Jacques scored the earth with a lightning bolt, directing it along the river of blood. No creature needed the madness of that fluid in its belly.

An unusually large, rare, golden wolf trotted out of the timberline, circled the area warily, and sat down on its haunches only feet from Jacques. It watched him steadily with its strange golden eyes, completely unafraid. It seemed not to be affected by the fire, the lightning, or the Carpathian male. Jacques watched the animal equally intently, certain he was facing more than a wolf. The creature did not make an attempt to use the common mental path to communicate. It simply watched him, taking in the bizarre scene, the golden eyes never wavering.

A humorless smile curved Jacques’ hard mouth. “If you are looking for action tonight, I am too tired to oblige you, and far too hungry.”

The wolf’s shape contorted, stretched, shimmered in the smoke of the fire, and soon a large, heavily muscled man was facing Jacques. His long, shaggy mane of hair was blond, his eyes golden, his body perfectly balanced. “You are Jacques, brother to Mikhail. I heard you were dead.”

“That is the story going around,” Jacques assented warily.

“You have no memory of me? I am Julian, brother to Aidan. I have been away these last long years. The far-off mountains, the places without people, are my home.”

“The last I heard, you were fighting wars in distant lands.”

“When the mood is upon me, I fight where it is needed,” Julian agreed. “I see you do also. The vampire lies dead, and you are pale beyond imagination.”

Jacques’ smile was grim. “Do not allow my color to fool you.”

“I am no vampire yet, and if ever I fear turning, I will go to Aidan, and he will destroy me if I cannot do so myself. If you wish to take blood, then I offer it freely. The healer knows me; you can ask him if I am a reliable resource.” There was the slightest of smiles, a self-mocking humor.

“What are you doing in these parts?” Jacques asked suspiciously.

“I was traveling through, on my way to the United States, when I heard the butchers were back, and I thought I would make myself useful to our people for a change.”

Jacques found himself admiring Julian’s answers. This was a man not in the least worried about anyone’s opinion or impression of him. He was self-contained, at ease with himself. It didn’t bother him at all that Jacques was suspicious, that he was firing questions at him.

Healer, hear me. I have need of blood, and this one before me, Julian, the golden twin, has said you will vouch for him.

No one can vouch for one such as Julian. He is a loner, a law unto himself, but his blood is untainted. If Julian turns, it will be Aidan or I who hunts him, no others. Avail yourself of what he offers.

“Did he give me a good recommendation?” Julian’s smile was frankly sardonic.

“The healer never gives good recommendation. You are not his favorite, but he agrees there would be no harm.”

Julian laughed softly, put his wrist to his mouth and bit, then casually reached out to offer his life-giving fluid to Jacques. “I am too much like him, a loner, one who studies too much. I dabble in things better left alone. I fear Gregori has given up on me.” He didn’t sound worried about it.

Jacques nearly staggered as he moved to take the proffered wrist. His mouth clamped tightly over the ragged wound. The blood flowed into Jacques’ withered, shrunken cells. The surge of strength and power was incredible. He had not realized how depleted his system was until the nourishment flowed into his body. It was an effort not to be greedy, to feast at the rich supply.

“Do not worry, I have no duties to perform this night. Take what you need, and I will hunt in town before moving on.” Julian made the offer casually.

Jacques forced himself away from the flowing supply. He closed the wound carefully and looked up at the handsome, weathered face. There was intelligence there, coolness, self-possession, and something else. Jacques could read the dangerous stillness in him. Julian was a man always ready for the unexpected.

“Thank you, Julian. If you ever have need, I expect to return the favor,” Jacques said sincerely.

“I will finish up here,” Julian offered. “It is a shame these three men had to die this night. When they do not return and no search party can find their remains, it will only feed the legends of vampires stalking this country and these parts.”

“I should have expected Rand to use them against me; he knew I would keep them to feed.” Jacques regretted their deaths bitterly.

“You did not kill these men, the vampire did. And you rid the world of one of our monsters. Both humans and Carpathians are indebted to you. Think only of that, Jacques. I wish you good journey and long life.”

“Good journey and long life to you, Julian,” Jacques answered formally.

Chapter Eighteen

Jacques entered the maze of tunnels, his body moving with supernatural speed. He could hear every sound, the water dripping, then roaring, the high squeak of the bats, even the slight shifting of the earth itself. But he could not detect what he wished to hear most. There was no sound coming from the pools. No ripple of water, no humming, no soft breath from sleeping. No heart beating.