She was a healer, and she knew something about shields. She wished she had some healing stones with her, but she hadn’t brought them. Only the one she wore around her neck. She wrapped one hand around the stone and let him take her with him into the deep forest.
She smelled wildflowers. Fox. She knew there were kits, snuggled with their mother in a den close to the narrow deer path Andre traveled on. She heard the music in the silver leaves of the trees. Still, in spite of the beauty of the night, the blanket of stars overhead, sorrow pressed deep.
Andre needed the sound of Elena’s laughter. He wanted to see her face light up with joy when he arrived. He needed Dorina to ease the terrible ache inside of him—to welcome him the way she always did with a quick hug. Ion ruffled his hair and always clapped a hand to his shoulder and gave him a welcoming shake. Euard would try to hand him food. He always did, although Andre never took it. Never once had Andre used a single family member for sustenance. They were far too precious to him and he never wanted to put them at risk.
He quickened his pace, fighting back the sorrow pushing deep at him. His chest was heavy, the pressure burning. He tried to think about how Elena sounded when she spun in circles, her arms outstretched to the sky, her hands graceful, and her fingers fluttering. Sometimes the moonlight spilled over her and she looked ethereal. Other times she was laughing so much she looked the child she was, bright and beautiful and happy. Andre tried to remember, as he hurried toward their hut, the times when Euard spun with her and even Dorina and Andre joined them.
The smell hit him first because the wind shifted again, and the scent of burning flesh drifted through the trees. He stopped, his breath catching in his throat. Then the faint, terror-filled screams followed on the next gust. He recognized Dorina’s voice. Something terrible had happened.
He forgot everything else and sped toward them, no longer pretending to be human or caring that he might get caught. He used the preternatural speed of his kind, streaking toward the small hut as quickly as possible. He saw Ion first. There in the front of the house. He was lying on the ground, his face turned toward Andre as he settled to earth and emerged from the trees.
Andre had never seen such pain on a man’s face. Ion lay under a mountain of stones and they were clearly crushing him. Andre rushed toward him, but Ion shook his head, at least he tried to, his eyes frantic. He opened his mouth as if to try to warn him, but there was no sound, only deep red blood bubbling out.
Teagan’s stomach lurched. She could see clearly that Ion was suffering terribly. The massive pile of stones heaped over Euard and Elena’s father was enormous and the stones were huge. The blood coming from his mouth clearly meant it was far too late to save him, but the shocked boy racing out of the tree line to drop to his knees beside his friend clearly hadn’t comprehended that yet.
Andre waved his hands, trying to move the stones. How they had gotten on Ion there in the forest was a mystery, but he had to move them before they crushed Ion to death. He was only just learning to control levitation. He had been moving small objects since he was a toddler, but nothing of this magnitude.
Ion turned his head one last time, drawing Andre’s attention back to him. The boy froze. Ion’s neck was torn and bloody. Comprehension dawned, and with it, fear. The undead had done this. He knew then, that Ion was already dead. There was no hope for him, but the others . . . Dorina. Euard. Elena. Sweet little Elena.
Ion made a sound, a rattling in his throat. A gasp. His eyes were frantic. Andre recognized the warning. Ion was trying to save him. He wanted Andre to run. He didn’t understand Andre had nothing—no one—to run to. Everyone he had was right there.
Andre brushed a kiss over Ion’s forehead, then was up and running around to the back of the hut. As he ran, he reached for his father on the private telepathic path that connected them. He found only a dark void. His stomach lurched. His father hadn’t waited for the dawn. He was already gone and he’d taken Andre’s mother with him.
The terrible weight in his chest grew as he rounded the corner, his mind reaching for the common Carpathian telepathic link they all had. He called for help as he ran, knowing it was too late, but if a hunter came, this family would be avenged. He had no experience. He was considered a child in Carpathian years and he had no formal training and lacked the skills and power needed to face a full-fledged vampire, but it didn’t matter to him. This was his family and he would save it if he could.
Teagan wanted to scream at the boy Andre to stop. Dread filled her. Filled him. He skidded to halt when he rounded the corner of the hut. Euard was writhing, pinned to the back of the house by four stakes. Two through his shoulders and two lower, down near his ribs. Blood flowed freely from the holes the stakes made. His feet were off the ground and his body weight pulled against the stakes, making every move sheer agony.
Bile rose in Teagan’s throat. She was far too sensitive to see and feel this, but she refused to pull out of his head. Andre had faced this and she would, too. She recognized the pattern of the stakes. Two at the shoulders. Two at the ribs. Those, round circular scars so prominent on Andre’s body.
A monster stood over Elena, his bony fingers wrapped around her throat. He was large and powerful looking. His hair was in mats and hung dank and dirty around him, flowing down his back like a rat’s tail. His turned his head slowly toward Andre. Blood was smeared over his face and dripped down his chin. His lips and teeth were stained red. His fingers tightened around Elena’s throat, one talon digging into her neck so that small ruby red beads flowed down her skin.