Dark Blood(65)

Gregori sighed. His silver eyes met Branislava’s in understanding. “A mage this powerful would have equally powerful safeguards to protect his shadow. Tripping one would alert him, and he would immediately strike at us through his puppet. Failing that, to protect his identity, he would kill Damon.”

Mikhail’s gaze was steady on his son-in-law. “If we do nothing and allow this mage to have a window through Damon, what then?”

“His hold on Damon will strengthen with each use. Eventually, we won’t be able to have the chance to save him. Anyone near the man is in danger at this point. Anything he sees or hears could get back to Xaviero.”

Branislava nodded. “Gregori’s right, Mikhail. That shadow can’t be left inside of him. It should be removed as soon as possible.”

“Can you do it, Gregori?” Mikhail asked. “And how high is the risk to you?”

Gregori closed his eyes briefly and shook his head without answering. Branislava’s heartbeat accelerated. She clutched Zev’s hand, every cell in her body rebelling. Every single fear she ever felt in those long years of captivity welled up to choke her—to choke back what had to be said.

Zev leaned down, his mouth brushing down her cheek, leaving a trail of fire in a chamber of pure, scorching heat. She was safe here. Xaviero couldn’t find her there in the sacred cavern surrounded by the people she loved and who loved her.

“I’ve removed splinters in the past, Mikhail,” Gregori said, “But never a shadow. Until I see what I’m facing, I can’t say for certain. If Xaviero is capable of mass-producing shadows in groups of unsuspecting people as indicated, he’s had centuries of practice and knows far more than I do on the subject.”

“Gregori would have little chance to remove the shadow, not without knowing Xaviero’s work,” Branislava said. Once again her eyes met Tatijana’s. Her sister shook her head, her fist jammed in her mouth to prevent a protest.

She took a breath and forced herself to say the one thing she feared above all others—the one thing she’d known when she saw the shadow and knew who had made it. “I’ll have to do it.”





10


Silence took hold in the sacred chamber of ancient warriors. Water trickled from the walls down to the pools, drops hissing as they hit the hot water. Steam rose as curling vapor and drifted around the stalagmites. The flickering light from all the candles cast expressions on the faces of the ancient warriors in the giant totems of minerals. It seemed as though the world held its breath.

Zev heard his own heart like thunder roaring overhead. His first reaction was visceral. Absolutely not. He wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t care what she said, or whether or not Damon would die, she wasn’t going to put herself in that kind of danger. He hadn’t known what looking at the shadow entailed or the jeopardy she had been in or he never would have allowed that. Gregori’s reaction when she’d admitted she had done so was enough for him. She was not going to go near Damon ever again.

Branislava moved, a small flexing of her fingers, and he looked down to see his hand clamped around her thigh, his knuckles white. Immediately he relaxed his grip on her, certain she would have bruises, silently cursing himself for not being more careful. But damn it all . . .

“It’s the only way,” she said aloud, looking at him, looking straight into his eyes—into his soul.

She knew his primal reaction. She knew everything he was, Lycan and Carpathian, protested. She knew him, his instincts and his need to keep her safe. He could see her fear, so stark in her eyes, yet she was going to attempt to remove the shadow from Damon.

He couldn’t contain the fury rising sharp and fast and terrible. His wolf leapt to protect her, to force obedience. Zev rose and stalked out of the chamber, leaving her there where she was safe from the madness gripping him. He wanted to shake her until she saw reason. He wanted to put her across his knee like she was an unruly child. He wanted to wrap her up in his love and keep her hidden away where nothing could ever touch her.

He kept moving, going from chamber to chamber, winding his way through the maze, uncaring if he was going up toward the ground level or farther down from the warrior cave. The where mattered little to him. Just the why.

Why wasn’t her love for him strong enough to keep her from putting her life in danger? His fingers curled into two tight fists. Sharp claws cut into his palms. His skin itched and his eyes and jaw ached with the effort to hold back the wolf that would snatch her from the meeting and run off into the night with her.

“Zev.”

Her voice was cool, like a gentle breeze. Rather than soothe him, it fanned the anger pouring through him. He swung around and caught her shoulders in a hard grip. “You shouldn’t have followed me.”