“I’m Lorraine. Which of you is the healer?”
“All of us are capable of healing,” Gary replied.
“Andor said one of you was a healer. Ferro said the same.”
“They were referring to me.” Gary’s gaze was already moving over Andor.
There was no expression on his face, but she saw the look that passed between Sandu and him. Her stomach dropped. “He’s a really good man. He fought and killed seven of those hideous things.” She felt like she was pleading for Andor’s life. “You can’t just give up on him. He stayed alive this entire time waiting for you.”
“No one will give up on him,” Gary assured. “You keep watch. Sandu will be needed for blood.”
Like Ferro, Gary dropped down beside Andor and pushed his hands into the soil. She didn’t take her gaze from the healer because she wanted to make absolutely certain she saw him as his spirit left his body. For one brief half second, she thought she saw a brilliant flash of light move from Gary’s body to Andor’s but then it was gone and the night closed in around them.
“Are you his friend?” Lorraine asked in a low voice.
“I am his brother.”
She studied the expressionless face. These men wore masks. They were dangerous, and if everything Andor had told her was true—and at this point she wasn’t about to quibble over details—then his brethren didn’t see in color or feel emotions.
“I don’t want him to die.” She didn’t know if she said it as a test or she needed to admit it to herself. She had no idea when she’d become so dependent on the man.
“I do not want him to die, either. You are thirsty. And hungry. You have to take care of yourself in order to help supply blood. We will need quite a bit in order to save Andor. Ferro and the healer will need it as well as your lifemate.”
She didn’t argue. The last thing she wanted to do was eat, but Sandu was right. She was thirsty, and she had to be ready to give blood. She sat beside her backpack, gun in her lap, the spray can beside her knee, facing out toward the forest, and drank from her water bottle.
“You managed to defeat a vampire,” Sandu said. “Ingeniously.”
She shrugged. “I’m not certain he would have stayed down. I didn’t want to risk leaving the safety of the guards Andor set up to check to see if his heart had actually been incinerated. I think Ferro is the one who actually killed him.”
“I am not sure many people would have thought of making their own flamethrower. And it was smart not to have left the safeguards. Vampires can be very tricky. They often will make replicas of themselves so you cannot choose the correct one. Then they attack. Until the heart is destroyed, you have to always know they are deadly.”
She nodded, taking in every word carefully, just as she had with Andor. “I see one of them tried to eviscerate you.”
“A common practice. He did not succeed.”
“I could clean it the old-fashioned human way.”
“It is unnecessary. I do not feel it. When this is done, we will worry about the small things.”
She didn’t think being nearly eviscerated by a vampire was a small thing, but then she was going to have nightmares about the lightning and Ferro. She supposed that wounds were nothing to Carpathians unless they were like Andor’s, massive and many.
“Can you start healing him from the outside while they’re healing him from the inside?”
“The best use of me is for my blood and my strength to protect both of their bodies while they work to save our brother.”
She wanted to argue with him. She just wanted Andor healed, and the anxiety in her wouldn’t go away. Jumping up, she shoved her gun in her waistband, grabbed the water bottle and left the group to walk around the campsite again.
Now that the gruesome battle was over, one would never know any such thing had taken place. The cicadas were singing, and she could hear frogs calling one another. Bats dipped and wheeled overhead, going after a multitude of flying insects. She could hear the sound of the stream rushing over rocks. A cool breeze touched her face and ruffled her hair. She kept walking, restless energy preventing her from sitting.
It was obvious to her that Sandu didn’t want to talk. She understood that. Maybe these men didn’t feel anything, but somewhere, they had to care about a man who had spent several human lifetimes with them. They felt it somewhere deep, somewhere lost to them. She paced back and forth, watching the sky and the surrounding forest. She didn’t forget the ground. Dartmus’s lesson had taught her that.
“Lorraine,” Sandu called to her. “We need your blood.”
She turned and hurried back. Ferro was swaying with weariness. His body was pale. There were tiny beads of blood on his forehead, and her stomach lurched. He was feeding from Sandu’s wrist. She didn’t look—she couldn’t. She kept her gaze on Andor.
“Can you save him?”
She felt the impact as Ferro’s eyes jumped to her face. She still didn’t look at him because she knew he continued to take blood from Sandu’s wrist.
“Ferro says he is very bad. Three of the wounds should have killed him outright. Two more are borderline. One he would have been able to heal.”
“That doesn’t tell me anything.”
“It tells you it’s going to be a very long night. I’m going to take your blood so I can provide for the healer. Then I will go hunting to find another source.”
None of it sounded good, but at least she wasn’t alone with Andor, trying to save him when it would have been impossible.
5
Andor was cold. He had never been so cold in his life and he couldn’t seem to regulate his temperature. He tried opening his eyes. Everything was dark, bleak, bitterly cold. He was blind. His heart should have reacted with a jump. Something. He couldn’t hear his heartbeat. He wasn’t deaf. He knew that. He could hear voices. Musical. Chanting. They had chanted often in the monastery. Perhaps he was there. He opened his mouth to call out. No sound emerged.
Andor stayed very still, analyzing what was happening to his body. He was blind and couldn’t speak, but he could hear. There was no heartbeat that he could detect, yet he was aware. He felt the cold. The voices were soft but persistent and he listened, trying to discern what they said. Which chant they were using. He could join in. Silently, maybe, but the words would ground him. He was Carpathian. He belonged to the Earth. Chanting aided his people in many things. He could be of some use in spite of his strange situation.
Ot ekäm ainajanak hany, jama. My brother’s body is a lump of earth, close to death. Me, ot ekäm kuntajanak, pirädak ekäm, gond és irgalom türe. We, the clan of my brother, encircle him with our care and compassion. O pus wäkenkek, ot oma śarnank, és ot pus fünk, álnak ekäm ainajanak, pitänak ekäm ainajanak elävä. Our healing energies, ancient words of magic and healing herbs bless my brother’s body, keep it alive. Ot ekäm sielanak pälä. Ot omboće päläja juta alatt o jüti, kinta, és szelemek lamtijaknak. But my brother’s soul is only half. His other half wanders in the nether world. Ot en mekem ŋamaŋ: kulkedak otti ot ekäm omboće päläjanak. My great deed is this: I travel to find my brother’s other half.
Andor heard the words of the chant and recognized the Great Healing Chant of his people. A soul was lost to them. A warrior of great importance and a healer risked his life to follow his brethren down the great tree of life into the other world to bring him back. He knew that others would be gathered in a circle around the fallen warrior chanting to help aid the healer.
It was a great risk to follow the fallen into the other world. Both souls could be lost. It was only when that individual was needed, or when his lifemate …
He shivered, something important moving in his mind. He needed to get warm. His body felt like a block of ice. He couldn’t quite catch the thought that pushed at the back of his mind so persistently, so he concentrated on the words of the healing chant. His native language was only spoken among Carpathians, and it was rare for the words to be interpreted into another language, yet English was added so someone non-Carpathian could understand what was said.
Rekatüre, saradak, tappadak, odam, kaŋa o numa waram, és avaa owe o lewl mahoz.
We dance, we chant, we dream ecstatically, to call my spirit bird, and to open the door to the other world. Ntak o numa waram, és mozdulak, jomadak. I mount my spirit bird and we begin to move, we are under way. Piwtädak ot En Puwe tyvinak, ećidak alatt o jüti, kinta, és szelemek lamtijaknak. Following the trunk of the Great Tree, we fall into the nether world. Fázak, fázak nó o śaro. It is cold, very cold.
Andor heard those words. Fázak, fázak nó o śaro. It is cold, very cold. He shivered again. He couldn’t call out, even now when he recognized the voices chanting. Two of his brethren. Who? He tried to think. Sandu for certain. Sandu had a beautiful singing voice. The other? Ferro. That surprised him. Ferro was a born leader. He could have been a gatekeeper had he not been so far gone. He could stop a vampire just with his voice alone. It was that compelling. He never raised his voice. He didn’t have to. The urge to obey when Ferro commanded was too strong to ignore, even for the undead.
He shivered again. Ice seemed to pierce through his body. Hundreds of shards. Ice surrounded his heart so that he finally knew why his heart couldn’t beat—it was frozen. He was the warrior lost in the nether land. A great warrior was risking his life to retrieve him. That was the only answer to the glacier-cold. Who had risked his life? And why?
Juttadak ot ekäm o akarataban, o sívaban, és o sielaban. My brother and I are linked in mind, heart, and soul. Ot ekäm sielanak kaŋa engem. My brother’s soul calls to me. Kuledak és piwtädak ot ekäm. I hear and follow his track.
His soul, however, was lost. They all knew that. He had been locked behind massive gates with safeguards woven by eight of the most ancient of all Carpathians. Why would they retrieve him when he finally was seeking peace? The need had to be great. But there was no way to find his soul. The warrior risking his life would be lost as well.