Dark Blood(75)

Wouldn’t Xaviero spot a mage spell before a Carpathian one? Zev asked.

Carpathians were taught the spells from mages, Gregori said.

Branislava nodded. True, and they were slightly different for Carpathians so a mage could always tell who had actually cast the spell or woven a safeguard.

That still means Xaviero would recognize a mage spell, Zev insisted.

Branislava and Tatijana exchanged a small smile. Branislava shook her head. Not if we changed the spell yet again. We had little to do behind those walls of ice but learn. We are every bit as adept as the three of them.

Branka, I love your confidence. Zev had faith in her, but he knew how terrified she was of Xaviero. She hadn’t wanted to face the mage and had only committed to erasing the shadow because she feared no one else could do it without harming themselves.

It’s the simple truth, Zev, but we don’t practice the dark arts like they do. We might know each spell—we felt it necessary to learn in order to reverse them—but we refused to use our gifts for anything other than good.

Or mischief, he teased, wanting to see her smile. Her complexion was stark white, her eyes enormous, looking like two emeralds pressed into her face.

She turned her head to look at him and gave him a smile that was worth more than all the gold in the world to him. His heart gave a little stutter and he placed his palm over his chest in a small tribute to her.

For a long moment, Branislava’s gaze clung to Zev’s. They stared into each another’s eyes, hers questioning. He nodded slowly and then she answered his nod with one of her own, showing him they were in perfect accord.

Branislava closed her eyes and sent her own prayer to the universe, calling on all things good and right for aid.

Valerian, Lemon Balm, German Chamomile,

I call forth your essence to calm and wile.

Lavender, Catnip, heed my call,

Bring peaceful sleep so evil may not call.

Damon’s eyes closed obediently under the blindfold, his face peaceful, not showing any of the stress that had been stamped there just minutes before.

Gregori unexpectedly reached out and took both of Branislava’s hands. “You have great courage, Dragonseeker courage. This time you are not alone in your fight to save this man. We’re with you and will aid you in every possible way. More, you are tied, spirit and soul to your lifemate. He is Dark Blood—from our strongest line of warriors. I have no doubt that you can do this and triumph.”

In those strange liquid silver eyes that had always given her pause, as they were so much like those of the High Mage, Xavier, and that of his brothers, she saw the fire reflected there—her fire. She was the manipulator of fire.

She nodded her head again, and then glanced around the circle to each one of her sister-kin—the Dragonseeker women. Tatijana, so beloved, so close she would always be a part of Branislava. Young Skyler, so powerful and intelligent, a young sister full of life. Ivory, elusive and a skilled warrior, loyal and poetic. They surrounded her, ready to fight with her.

And Zev. Her wolf. Her everything. When had it gotten to be that way? She didn’t even know, but he was her other half. She loved everything about him, and her faith in him would never waiver. He was her protector and he stood ready.

Branislava let go of her own body with confidence, becoming pure healing energy. It was always a bit of a wrench going from physical to astral, but once she shed her physical form, there was a sense of freedom unlike any she’d ever experienced.

She moved into Damon. He was calm, but she felt the watchful presence of his wolf. She sent the animal side of the Lycan both friendship and reassurance, grateful that Zev’s aura was so strong. The wolf recognized him and settled without protest. She knew where the shadow had adhered to the brain, forming a lesion for Xaviero to use as an entry point. He could take control of Damon through the small stain and direct his activities. It was an abomination of life and free will and it wasn’t tolerated by any society, yet Xaviero had managed to infect many of the Lycans without anyone’s knowledge.

Branislava thought of this moment as her first real strike back at the High Mage. No one had ever managed to oppose him, not and lived to tell about it. She studied the area around the shadow. The ridges and valleys around the darker spot appeared to be untouched. She wasn’t fooled. Xaviero’s traps were clever and strong. He twisted light and bent it, weaving it into his spells so his most deadly traps always appeared to be the safest path to take.

Scattered throughout the grayish matter were those white cells—the filaments carrying commands. She saw the clever spots Xaviero had left around his shadow, those marks meant to trick an enemy into believing those were the places to avoid while the real danger was the very innocent-looking white filaments the mage used to send his commands throughout Damon’s body.