The jab hit her shields and bounced back, leaving an oily residue behind. The feel of it made her gag. She knew she had to get back to camp. The Carpathians had constructed a shelter to prevent any ray of the sun from reaching them. They had also built a strong safeguard around their camp, the three ancients weaving it so that the invisible barricade would be nearly impossible for even the greatest master vampire to unravel.
She reached for the flamethrower she kept close to her at all times as a flutter of wings told her she wasn’t alone. Intellectually, she knew the hideous creatures couldn’t penetrate the barrier the Carpathians had woven, but that didn’t make it any easier emotionally. She wanted to run. She swallowed hard and slowly rose to her feet, looking up at the surrounding trees.
There were five crows sitting on the branches overhead, looking down at her. Their eyes looked evil as they stared steadily at her. She forced herself to look away from them to the foliage around her. From the many battles she’d studied in each of the ancient’s heads, she knew not to be deceived. If she could see the undead in any form, it was because they wanted her to see them, and most likely the attack would come from another direction.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of movement and she turned to face the new assailant. A man strode out from the trees, walking with a confident stride and a smile on his face. Her heart pounded and clenched hard. Her mouth went dry. They’d warned her. All of them had, but she still wasn’t prepared. The last time she’d seen him, her brother had lain in a pool of blood on the floor. Now, there he was, looking like he always had.
Theodore had been an athletic man. Really good-looking. He had the same chestnut-colored hair that she did, the same green eyes and easy smile. “Little sister.”
That greeting stiffened her spine. Ferro and Sandu called her sisarke, which meant “little sister” in their native language. Sometimes they called her that in English, but Theodore had never called her that. She moistened her lips and watched him come closer. She stepped back, taking a firmer grasp on the flamethrower. This replica of her brother was perfect. That easy stride that showed with every step that he was a fluid, perfect fighter. She had always admired the way his muscles flowed when he moved, giving him such an advantage over every opponent.
She’d been thinking of Theodore just minutes before. How much she loved him. How well they’d gotten along. He was older by several years and had never once seemed to resent having a baby sister come along. He’d always seemed proud of her, not jealous. He’d helped her learn difficult moves and train when she’d needed someone to work against. He’d always been patient with her. She preferred being alone in the wilderness where she could have those beautiful memories of her brother, rather than the lurid headlines people remembered him for.
Now her stomach lurched as he walked right up to that invisible barrier with Theodore’s confidence. He ran into it, and it flung him backward so hard he landed a good twenty feet away on his butt. He sat there a moment, shook his head and burst out laughing. Even his laugh was the same. Exactly. That laughter hit her hard. She had to fight not to cry. Tears burned behind her eyes but she refused to shed them.
“You don’t get to use my brother like that,” she reprimanded.
The replica of Theodore stood up, dusted the seat of his jeans off and grinned at her good-naturedly. “Invite me in. I have so much to talk to you about and unless you invite me in, I’ll have to go away.”
She wanted him to leave, yet perversely, she didn’t. Seeing Theodore happy, grinning that old familiar smirk of camaraderie when it had been the two of them against the world, made her happy. She knew that was dangerous. This was a trick. An illusion. Still, it was a perfect one.
“Say my name.”
The clone of her brother frowned at her. “What game are you playing? Invite me in.”
“You have to say my name.”
At once there was that powerful jab at her brain. This was concentrated, like an ice pick seeking to poke a hole through her shields to get at the information the replica of Theodore needed. She pressed her palm to her temple and shook her head. “Teddy, you can’t get your way like that. Don’t you remember my name?”
She had to find the courage to lure him close and then destroy him with the flamethrower. That would start the war. While she was distracted with the clone of her brother, the others would work to get the safeguards down. They would work together. Gary, Sandu and Ferro had gone over it with her a hundred times.
The clone of her brother moved closer, looking a little wary of the invisible barrier that separated them. He stretched out a hand to her. “You are my beloved little sister.”
“I am,” she agreed. “Why did you do the terrible things you did, Teddy?” She knew this image had no idea why, but she had always wanted the opportunity to ask him and he was standing right in front of her. Close now. She was going to have to do this. She had no choice if she was going to protect Andor and the others. They were in it together.
She had saved Andor when she couldn’t save her brother or parents. She wasn’t going to allow a replica of Theodore to kill him or one of the others. She already thought of Sandu, Ferro and Gary as family. They might not feel anything for her in the same way she did, but she knew their souls were bound together. That meant their fates were.
Theodore stepped closer. “I had no choice. They gave me no choice.”
“Who gave you no choice?” She needed him a couple of feet closer to ensure accuracy. She leaned toward him as if to hear him better.
At once the vampire pawn took the bait and came almost right up to her, stopping just short of the safeguards. She heard the rustle of wings as one of those watching grew restless and shifted his position in anticipation of success. The crow’s wings spread wide and then settled once more against his feathered body.
Steeling herself, Lorraine took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She kept the flamethrower along her thigh, waiting. The clone stepped right into the space where she had practiced hitting and she whipped it up and hit him with the one thousand degrees Celsius of heat and flames. The clone exploded into a fiery blaze so that his entire body was enveloped in orange and red. She kept the flamethrower trained on his chest in the exact spot where his heart should be.
The crows raised their voices with his to a shriek that clawed at her insides. They left the branches in a diving attack, swooping low and at the last minute rising, not as birds, but as their truer forms—the undead. They looked terrifying and hideous with their stained teeth and rotting flesh. They came directly at her face. She didn’t make the mistake of switching targets, although self-preservation demanded that she do so. She hung on grimly to the canister they’d given her, that ever-flowing flamethrower the ancients had constructed for her protection.
The sounds were so awful it hurt her ears. She knew she was crying because her vision was blurred, but she held steady. The five vampires spread out, making a semicircle around her, just outside the invisible line of defense. They were swaying, tapping out a rhythm. She’d seen that before. The sound of the branches in the trees picked it up. Tap. Tap. Tap.
The clone, on fire, began to make gruesome noises, each shriek in time with that odd rhythm. Her heart began to thud with the sound so that her pulse beat with that strange rap, rap, rap. She felt it echo in her mind. Rap. Rap. Rap. Like a knock. They were seeking a way into her mind. She couldn’t change her heartbeat. Now her breath exploded from her lungs on each tap of their fingers against their thighs, each click of the tree branches. Still, she kept her finger on the trigger of the flamethrower, refusing to back off.
The clone went to his knees, writhing, screaming, the sound punctuating that same drumming beat. He pitched forward facedown. She snapped off the flamethrower and stepped back from the barrier, staring defiantly at the vampires facing her. None of them spoke, but they continued to keep the same beat. She was afraid it might drive her mad. More than anything, she wanted to reach for the ancients, but she knew she couldn’t open her mind.
Other than the tapping sound, the night went silent. At once dread filled her. A terrible ominous sensation that raised the hair on her arms and at the back of her neck. She felt fear creep down her spine. Her mouth was dry, and the urge to step forward, to move out of her place of safety, was strong—so strong she knew it was a compulsion.
Lorraine forced her body backward a few steps at a time. Her boots dragged in the dirt, unwilling to obey her. It was only because she was disciplined that she was able to manage. It only took her a few feet from the barrier, but it gave her a sense of triumph that she’d managed to.
This was what they had all been waiting for. Not this. Who. The ancients had known a master vampire had been harassing them, sending his pawns. No one believed it was the head of the army, the undead so cunning that he had fooled everyone; there was more than one master vampire. Each was extremely dangerous.
Sergey Malinov, the master vampire commanding all others, would not travel or attack without pawns, and also some of his best fighters. The ancients also believed he would show himself eventually. He couldn’t wait too long, because circumstances would change and their little band might grow stronger.
“Come to me,” the vampire whispered, gesturing with his hand, his fingers moving over and over to the sound of the tapping.
He was beautiful. Far more beautiful than Andor, Ferro, Sandu or Gary. His skin was smooth, without a single blemish. His beauty seemed almost blasphemous beside his hideous companions.
She shook her head and managed to stumble back. He didn’t take his eyes from her, all the while those fingers beckoning her at that same rhythm. It was nearly impossible to resist him. She took her first step forward, and he smiled, his teeth gleaming white. Pristine.
Movement behind and to the left of the semicircle of the undead caught the master vampire’s eye. He swung toward the movement. Gary stepped out of the tree line. Ten feet from him was Sandu. Another ten feet was Ferro. A fourth man she didn’t know was there and then a fifth. Relief hit her knees so that she nearly crumpled to the ground. As it was, she went down on one knee, breathing deeply to try to clear her head.