Dark Wolf(39)

"Hang on, little sister," she whispered aloud. "Stay with him. Trust him  to keep you safe." It was all she could think to say. Dimitri had gone  to great lengths to ensure Skyler didn't die this night.

Skyler's eyes suddenly opened as her body quieted. Tatijana felt a chill  go down her spine. Both Skyler and Dimitri stared back at her,  glacier-blue eyes swirling with color, sending an eerie, creepy feeling  through her entire body.

"If you can hear me, we're with you now," she whispered. "I go now to  heal Dimitri's body as best I can. When he is successful and your body  has finished the conversion, I'll do my best to heal you as well,  although Mother Earth is already standing in line to do just that."

Tatijana sent her spirit seeking outside her own body and into  Dimitri's. She could see where Josef had made his attempt to push the  silver from the Guardian's body. He'd done a fairly good job for one so  young and inexperienced. She made a mental note to herself to watch the  boy. He had a gift to be able to accomplish so much when he was  untrained.

There were traces of silver burning long thin lines along the bones, as  if that precious metal had attached itself where it could hurt the most  as well as do the most damage. Meticulously, taking her time when  everything in her wanted to move fast, she began to work.

Tatijana, my brother? He has not moved. A conversion does not take this long.

Fen's anxiety crept into her mind in spite of focusing completely on her  task. Be patient, wolf man, she said. I'm healing Dimitri's body and I  need to concentrate.

Fen let out his breath. He should have known not to disturb her. He  couldn't keep risking glances through the transparent wall when the  Lycans' attention was so focused on the life or death battle between  Gunnolf and Zev.

Convel's body lay at his feet, cut in two by the precise silver sword.  His task wasn't finished, it rarely was, unless you knew how to kill a  Lycan. Their bodies could regenerate given the opportunity. He slammed  home a silver stake, driving it through the Lycan's heart, and then  severed the head.

Fen stared down at the body for a moment before wiping the blood from  his blade on the traitor's shirt and then replacing the sword back in  the scabbard. Lycans moved out of his way as he strode through the thick  circle to the inside where he could keep an eye out for others who  thought to aid Gunnolf.

There had to be more of them-supporters of Gunnolf's rebellion. Gunnolf  would never have made his move against Zev unless he thought he had the  advantage. If Zev was right, and Gunnolf had deliberately gone against  the word of the council, then he had done so with enough followers right  here in this camp to challenge Zev's authority.

Two Lycans caught Fen's eye. They would have blended with the large  crowd but for the fact that their movements seemed furtive while  everyone else shouted encouragement to Zev or Gunnolf, all fully focused  on the fight. Those shouting encouragement to Gunnolf growled warningly  at any of the Lycans who grumbled about Gunnolf's methods.

It had gotten very brutal as fights between Lycans often did. Both men  were bloody, shirts stripped off, muscles streaked with lacerations and  dirt. Gunnolf's left eye was nearly closed and he favored his left side,  as if protecting a cracked rib. His wrist was broken for certain,  although he used the hand, tough enough to get past pain.

The slice that had opened Zev's arm worried Fen. It was bleeding too  much, as if Gunnolf might have treated the blade on the dagger with an  anticoagulant. Fen sniffed the air, allowing his mixed blood senses to  flare out into the night. The scent of blood was strong. So was fear and  treachery. And yes . . . there it was . . . that faint odor confirming  his belief that Gunnolf had rigged even his blades against his opponent.  There was no doubt that Gunnolf had come prepared to kill Zev.

Once again he started to move, making his way through the crowds of  Lycans to intercept the two who were acting so shifty. One, a darker  wolf with a square muzzle, pushed his way through the other Lycans,  skirting around again and again, in order to come up behind Zev. The  other was much stealthier, and he moved away from the Lycans. Away from  the combatants.

Fen swore under his breath. He had to choose one of them to stay on, he  couldn't guard both. Get it over already, Zev, he snapped through  gritted teeth. They had established a line of communication through  Tatijana's sister, Branislava. He followed that path now, trying to push  his warning into Zev's mind.

I'm a little busy here, Fen.

The ability to communicate gave them a bit of an advantage the other  side wouldn't see coming. Gunnolf couldn't violate the code of Lycans  without angering and bringing about retaliation from the Lycans not yet  joined with him. If he succeeded in defeating Zev, he would be the top  alpha over the pack and the others wouldn't question his authority-his  methods maybe-but not his authority.

You look like you're playing with the bastard. Get it done. You've got  about a hundred others waiting to kill you. Big oaf, dark fur, square  jaw, working his way behind you.

Take care of it. I've got my hands full with this one. He isn't the  ringleader and I'd like to find a way to extract the information from  him without his knowledge.

Kill him and keep his head intact. I'll see what information I can get  out of him. Fen kept his attention on the Lycan slipping away from the  crowd and heading toward the edge of the forest.

That's a dangerous practice. Zev caught Gunnolf and threw him to one  side as the Lycan attacked, snarling, raging, beginning to lose control.

Zev moved with fluid grace, a ballet of lethal intent. He seemed not to  move his feet, yet he was everywhere, flowing around Gunnolf, striking  with punches, kicks and openhanded slaps. The fight was brutal, but the  alpha managed to make it look more like a dance or a martial arts  exhibition, than a fight to the death.

There's a second threat, moving into the forest. I believe he has a  sniper rifle on him. I'm just guessing here, but someone wants you dead.  Don't cut off Gunnolf's head until I can get back.

Sniper rifle?

Fen heard the shock in Zev's voice, even felt it in his mind. The elite  hunter had told himself Gunnolf and Convel wanted to take over the pack  for power. Perhaps in the back of his mind he believed the two had gone  rogue and were recruiting followers, but a sniper rifle was a serious  threat-one that smacked of a larger conspiracy.

Fen was on the move, fast, fading into the crowd but making his way  quickly to the nearest point of the tree line. At the edge of the  clearing there were fewer Lycans, and the stealthy one climbing the tree  might be able to spot him. He blurred his image just enough to make it  into the forest without detection.

There was always a fine line to walk when he was around the Lycans, but  he'd been doing it for centuries and had a lot of practice. He couldn't  use the speed or senses of his mixed blood or his abilities as a  Carpathian in front of them. At all times they had to believe he was  fully Lycan. At times like this he felt handicapped.

He glanced at the sky, pulling in the storm clouds, building them fast  so that they rose into the air like dark towers. Thunder rumbled in the  distance and lightning veined the darker clouds. Sinking deeper into the  trees, and using the darker sky as a cover, he streaked to the bottom  of the tree he had seen the Lycan climb.                       
       
           



       

Knowing he was hidden from view and his mixed blood hid his energy from  the Lycans, he shifted, going to pure vapor, racing up through the  branches until he was behind the Lycan. This one had military training.  He set up his rifle and scope with meticulous care. He'd tied a bit of  cloth to an outside branch across the clearing to get a feel for the  wind. Already he had his eye to the scope.

Fen abruptly commanded the wind, sending a capricious blast that sent  the little flag in all directions. The Lycan lifted his head and waited.  He had the patience of a marksman, Fen noted, his gut tightening.

From his vantage point in the tree, Fen got a better look at what was  happening in the clearing. The Lycans were no longer paying any  attention to the Carpathians trapped inside the safety structure. They  barely glanced at the dead Lycan whose head remained separated from his  body so close to the edge of the ring. The Lycans surrounded the two  combatants, and they had gone wild. Fen had seen the behavior before, a  frenzied madness that swept through a pack during a challenge for  leadership.

Gunnolf and Convel had counted on that trait in their fellow wolves. The  animal came out when they were in combat with one another, especially  during a challenge. Few thought clearly. They cheered and yelled and  paced back and forth, their adrenaline and untamed nature taking over  their more civilized half.

Fen could see the recruits to Gunnolf's army surrounding the others, a  subtle move that no one would notice inside that circle. They shifted  from one spot to another, closing ranks so that Zev's supporters were  entirely ringed. A massacre? Or did Gunnolf believe that if he defeated  Zev by any means, the pack would accept him?