Dark Wolf(43)

It wasn't necessarily that Gunnolf was a bad man. He believed  passionately that he was right. There was no other way, no other room  for any other's beliefs. He would not only die for his cause, but would  kill for it. Those who opposed him were the enemy and not fit to walk  the same earth.

The vehemence and ardor of the fanatic turned everything to red and  black. Emotions took hold, fighting to poison him, to spread that  infection to every cell in his body.

Lifemate. The light to his darkness. All darkness. Nothing this ugly  could ever touch something so bright. One word. One breath. That was all  it took. He had complete faith in her to call him back from the brink  of madness.

She was there instantly, pouring into his mind, lighting every dark  place, pushing out the stench of fanaticism and hatred, replacing those  intense, damaging emotions with her unconditional love.

He released Gunnolf's head, turning away, fighting down the terrible  need to retch after being so consumed by the fervor of the Lycan's need  to kill every living creature who did not believe as he did.

Zev swung the silver sword, slicing through the Lycan's neck, severing  the head. There was a long moment of silence. "Was it worth it?" Zev  asked quietly when Fen sank into the green grass.

At once Fen felt Mother Earth reaching for him, comforting him. He felt  oily and dirty, shaking his head repeatedly to try to get Gunnolf's  emotions out of his head. He swept his hand over his face and it came  away bloody. Tiny beads of blood had pushed through his pores. Not a  good thing. Lycans didn't sweat blood.

"You tell me," Fen managed to say. "This is all about the Sange rau.  Gunnolf felt you were becoming too close to the Carpathian people and he  had to act to save all Lycans from the damage that would do. The  ultimate goal is to start a war between the two species. If they do  that, then all Lycans would side with his faction-those who believe in  the old ways-the strict code of morality-he used the term sacred code."

Zev sighed, wiped the blade clean and slipped the sword back into the  scabbard before sinking rather abruptly into the deeper grass  surrounding Fen. The laceration on his arm still bled, the wound all the  way to the bone. "I'm going to pretend that I don't notice that the  ground responds to you just as it does with Dimitri."

"Dimitri is my brother," Fen volunteered. He was through lying to Zev.  They had a problem-a huge one. Either they were going to stop a war, or  start one right there. "I was born Carpathian. I am Hän ku pesäk  kaikak-Guardian of all."

"I'd like to say that comes as a huge surprise, but it doesn't. Tatijana is tied to you in some way?"

"She's my lifemate."

Zev's fingers played over the hilt of his sword. "I see. I'd cut off  your head for you, but I'm too damned weak. You'll just have to wait for  another day. How did you get this way, and when?"

"Over the centuries, it is easy to suffer severe wounds and need blood.  Those I hunted with often gave me what I needed-and I did the same with  them."

"That's why you were able to kill the Sange rau. You're more like they are."

Fen nodded. "Dimitri helped me. He saved both Gunnolf and Convel, but in  doing so, they realized he was of mixed blood and they took him.  Whoever is behind the movement to go back to this sacred code is the one  trying to start a war between the two species. I couldn't stay in his  mind long enough to get a name without risking infection."

Zev ripped a strip of cloth from his shirt and began to wrap it around  his arm. "I've lost a lot of blood," he noted. "You may as well give me  some. If I'm going to be strong enough in the future to hunt you down,  I'll need to live through this."

"You risk becoming a mixed blood," Fen pointed out. "That's how Dimitri  became a Guardian. There were times we hunted rogue packs and vampires  together down through the ages. When wounded, we helped each other by  giving blood."                       
       
           



       

"I fear it's a little too late to warn me," Zev said. He pushed a hand  through his hair. "I became aware some time ago that there was something  different gaining strength in me. I believe I have inadvertently  become-or am becoming-the very thing I hunted for centuries."

Fen drew up his knees. The wound in Zev's arm had bled far too much. "I  think Gunnolf used an anticoagulant on the blade of his dagger."

Zev nodded his agreement. "Lycans rejuvenate fast. At the very least,  blood flow should have ceased. I'm bleeding out here." He gave an  involuntary shiver, his body already growing cold. "Are you going to  help or just sit there?"

"I'm calculating the odds that you might use one of the hundreds of  weapons you've got on you, that you didn't use on Gunnolf, but should  have." Fen's voice was thoughtful.

"I'm too damn tired to disarm myself so make up your mind," Zev said and lay back in the grass.

"Just know that hell is coming this way," Fen warned. "Your Lycans shot a  young girl related to just about every powerful family that there is.  Paul's family is every vampire's nightmare, and the boy was shot as  well. Josef's family has already arrived, and when Dimitri rises again,  he'll owe that boy. He'll hunt down every single Lycan who fired a  weapon at those they perceive as children."

"I think you've more than conveyed the grave danger we're all in," Zev said dryly. He closed his eyes.

Fen sighed. "You know I'm mixed blood. I could call a Carpathian in to give you their blood. It might slow the process."

"Just give me your damned blood before I pass out."

"What a wuss," Fen said, matching the drollness in Zev's tone. He moved fast, though.

Zev was a man too valuable to be allowed to die. If he wasn't worried  about the mixed blood then Fen knew the elite hunter was really in  trouble. It would make sense, even if Zev knew he was close to the  transformation, he would do everything he could to slow it down until  the council ruled on the subject of the Sange rau-bad blood, versus the  Hän ku pesäk kaikak-Guardian of all.

Fen tore at his wrist and pressed it to Zev's mouth. The danger in  feeding a Lycan blood was they might become too fond of it. Lycans had  forsaken the need for fresh blood and meat, embracing a civilized world,  but it was impossible to tame a creature with a predatory nature. The  savagery was there, lurking just beneath the surface, always threatening  to overcome the hard-won shell of civilization.

Zev didn't seem to have any problems taking blood in the Carpathian  manner. Fen knew that Tatijana had given Zev blood as well when he was  gravely injured. More than once the Carpathians had donated their blood  to keep this Lycan alive, but it wouldn't have been enough to cause the  transformation. It was a slow process, happening over a long time of  exposure, which meant more than once through the centuries, Zev had  hunted with a Carpathian.

"You just want mixed blood because you took one look at a certain woman and all brain matter went dead," Fen accused.

Zev didn't open his eyes or stop feeding. She did make an impression.





12





The clash of swords rang throughout the room. Daciana and Makoce kept  Rolf between them, while Lykaon and Arnau defended the other council  members not-shockingly-from the Carpathians, but from other Lycans who  suddenly turned on them.

They're trying to assassinate the council, Mikhail warned his warriors. Choose your targets carefully.

"Loyal Lycans," Rolf called out, "those loyal to the council, defend us, not from the Carpathians but from our kind."

Lucian cut down Lowell, the wolf who had tried to murder Francesca and  Gabriel with one slice of his sword. Another Lycan stabbed a silver  stake through the assassin's heart and sliced down with his sword to  sever the head.

Gabriel thrust his lifemate to the back of the room, away from the  skirmish. Zacarias leapt forward to close ranks, protecting the woman.  He was everywhere, his expression never changing, reacting fast, so that  it seemed each Lycan who cut down his own kind in an effort to get to a  council member had to get through him or one of his brothers. Clearly,  he directed his family, and they seemed to move together in a  choreographed dance of death.

The Lycan faction that wanted the council dead were caught between their  own kind and the Carpathians. Their bid to start a battle between  species had failed when both sides kept a cool head and followed their  leaders' orders.

"Lay down your weapons," Rolf commanded. "Your lives will be spared."

Not a single one of the Lycans who stood with Lowell and Varg obeyed;  even knowing they would be killed, they increased their determination to  get to a council member. Daciana took a vicious swipe across her  stomach with a silver knife from Varg as he tried to get past her to  Rolf. The sharp blade cut her open and the silver had to burn like an  inferno, but she didn't flinch.