The fog was thick, but he fed it, adding in the frightening whispers of dark shadows, the ghost and phantoms he was legendary for. No one could quite face the terror of the demon packs living within the fog, not when he created them. The sound effects were particularly good, he decided. He’d never had the ability to feel the effects before or the satisfaction of knowing if anyone came near his woman, the faceless ghosts would protect her.
He’d left Teagan after she built her fire and had put on a pot to boil water for tea. She planned on making a small meal for herself and offered to share. He’d politely declined, stating he had business to take care of. She’d looked at him sharply, clearly leery of what business could possibly be in the mountains, but she didn’t ask any questions.
He thought he’d be relieved to be away from her company. He didn’t share space with anyone other than the triplets, Matais, Lojos and Tomas, and even then, he traveled loosely with them. He battled, killed and burned the bodies of his enemies. He didn’t converse with them or worry about their feelings. He was a Carpathian hunter, close to the end of his time, no, past the end of his time.
Now his world was different because of one small miracle. He could look into her eyes forever. He’d restrained himself. She’d had a man assault her already, and he didn’t need her more frightened than she already was. He was already beginning to bring her gently into his world and he wanted to do so one small step at a time.
He turned back to the entrance of the cave and used a much more difficult pattern for his safeguards. He had no intention of holding her prisoner. He was certain she could get out should she choose to, but it would take time. Time she wouldn’t have. He intended to return as soon as he’d taken care of Jashari. Still, anyone else, such as the undead or Jashari’s friends, would never be able to unravel the safeguards and any vampire would think he was inside the cave rather than outside of it. That would give him an advantage.
He shifted with ease, the change sweeping through him as he took on the shape of the night owl. He was comfortable in the form, second nature to him, as was the wolf and a variety of other shapes. He’d been shifting for centuries and had never considered how extraordinary it was until the moment he took to the sky.
The world was breathtaking from above. Even within the dense fog and the nightmare faces and voices he’d created, the night was different. Exhilarating. He couldn’t wait to show it to Teagan. He felt the wind in his feathers, and through the bird, on his face. He smelled the wild mountain and the creatures living on it. The wet mist felt like soft touches on the bird and through it, on his skin. She had done that for him. Teagan. She’d brought this to him. His own personal miracle.
How many times had he slid through the sky on silent wings, the owl’s sharp eyes scanning the ground for prey? Millions. It had to be millions. Yet he’d never felt it. At least he didn’t remember feeling anything. He circled high because he could, now out of the fog bank, just to watch the way the sliver of a moon played through the canopy of the trees, turning all the leaves and needles to silver.
The owl covered ground fast, familiar with the countryside and the best places human men would choose to camp. He also looked for signs of vampires. They’d been severely wounded, every single one of them, and he was fairly certain they had gone to ground to heal, perhaps even for a couple of days, but the master vampire wouldn’t be happy without fresh blood.
Popescu wouldn’t go looking for blood himself. Not with his heart nearly ripped from his body—and Andre had come close to disposing of the undead. The four lesser vampires had returned in the nick of time, saving their master, inflicting damage, but receiving terrible wounds themselves. The price of battle had been high for both sides.
Popescu would definitely send his least valuable minion. The newest recruit. He would expect the vampire to return with human fodder for the master to consume first. If he left any blood, the others could use the victim as well. Sometimes they kept their prey alive for several nights in order to remain beneath the ground and hidden from a hunter. Many, many times, Andre had found the remains of the vampire’s human food source. In each case, the human had died hard and brutally.
The owl suddenly banked sharply, its sharp eyes finding their target. There was a small tent pitched away from the wind, down in a slight depression where it was protected on three sides by rock. A small fire burned. The owl flew to the nearest tree above the tent and settled on the branches, slowly and carefully folding its wings, never taking its gaze from its prey.
A single man emerged from the tent carrying a pouch, which he tore open and emptied into the boiling water. Instantly Andre recognized him from Teagan’s memories. This was Armend Jashari. He was alone, and he clearly was comfortable being alone.
Jashari dropped down onto a rock beside the fire and pulled a small object from his belt. A handheld radio. Andre knew cell phones didn’t work along this particular stretch of wild mountain range. So there were others—Jashari’s friends—probably out searching for Teagan’s trail.
“Armend here, all of you report in, over.”
“Giles.” The radio crackled with static as Giles gave his dismal news. “Didn’t find crap. She’s disappeared. Vanished. If she gets down the mountain and tells anyone, Armend, you could be in trouble.”
Armend scowled. “Who’s going to believe the bitch? She’s a stupid tourist, although I don’t need the hassle. My dad’s been a bastard lately. Insists I get a job, make something of myself. He’s pissed because he had to have our lawyer settle with a couple of women who claimed I was overexuberant with them.” He laughed. “Anyone else out there find her trail? Gerard?”