Page 20 of Dark Hope (Dark Carpathians #38)

Chapter 20

The wind blew from the sea, bringing the scent of salt in the droplets of mist that covered the army stalking the village. They moved with stealth, believing the night kept them safe from sight. The sea breeze kept them safe by diffusing the scent of them and muffling the sound of their advance.

As the long line of demons and vampires reached the edge of the village, the general, a demon by the name of Erlik, held his fist high.

“You will kill them. Kill them all. If you find the slayer, she is to be tortured and killed.” He hissed and growled the words, his teeth, filed to sharp points, clicking together menacingly.

The lines broke apart and raced toward the homes and businesses. They ran in all directions, waving swords and machetes, spears and guns. They were met with an eerie silence. They pounded on doors and swung heavy metal weapons at windows, but the dwellings refused to give up their secrets.

Eventually, after running around in a chaotic manner under Erlik’s eye, they halted abruptly, and began to mill around without direction. The village appeared empty, without a single human for them to prey on. Even pets seemed to have abandoned the homes.

Fury gripped the general leading the demonic army. “Burn it down,” Erlik snarled. “Every house. Don’t leave anything standing.”

Once again, the army raced through the streets, war cries filling the air as they lit torches and poured accelerant over the rooftops and down the sides of the buildings. Over and over, they tried to light the buildings on fire. They flung the torches. The flames licked up the walls and over the roofs for a few moments and then fizzled out. No matter what they tried to do, the buildings refused to ignite.

Erlik called on the three mages to burn the houses down. The three stepped reluctantly forward, shackles on their ankles. The troops went silent, watching as the mages lifted their hands to begin to weave a complicated pattern in the air.

Somewhere in the night, a crow let out a harsh cry. Another followed. Within minutes, the sound of the crows cawing back and forth filled the air. The flutter of wings heralded the arrival as several very large crows flew overhead and then settled on the roof of the house the mages faced. With round sharp eyes, black as midnight and alive with intelligence, they stared down at the demons and vampires.

The demons and even the vampires stared uneasily at the large black birds. “Hurry, you dolts,” Erlik shouted at the mages. “The rest of you, shoot those birds. Set them on fire. Don’t just stand there, kill them all.”

Something about the steady stares sent a warning chill down Erlik’s spine. He wasn’t a demon to ever feel nervous. He had been put in charge by his mistress for a reason. Nothing frightened him. Once set on a path, he wouldn’t leave it until the job was done.

Fire-tipped arrows poured into the sky and rained down on the crows. The large birds stood upright on the roof of the house, spreading their wings, making themselves look enormous. Curved beaks opened wide, emitting harsh cries as they flapped their wings in what could only be construed as a warning.

The arrows fell harmlessly to the ground. Not one struck a bird. Not one fell onto the roof or stuck in the siding. The few that retained a flame sputtered out. Silence once more hit the ranks of Lilith’s army. The demons and vampires stirred uneasily.

The three mages ceased chanting, eyeing the odd-acting crows with trepidation. Erlik spewed a string of foul curses, raised his sword and hit the closest mage, splitting his head in two. He took a step and swung the blade at the neck of the second mage, whose head went flying into the air and then dropped to the ground to roll toward the silent army.

The third mage desperately raised his hands to begin his pattern again. He was shackled to the two dead mages and couldn’t run. There was no way to flee. The closest demons cackled and pointed, raising their voices to call out to Erlik. “Kill him. Stab him. Cut him to pieces.”

The crows shook their enormous wings, creating turbulence. All the while they rocked from foot to foot, voices harsh and unrelenting, adding to the chaotic scene—or orchestrating it.

Erlik roared as he ran the third mage through with his wide sword, using a vicious twisting motion as the tip came out the mage’s back. Demons cheered. Vampires shuffled closer, sniffing the air for the fresh blood. The crows took to the air, one by one lifting off from the roof and circling the long lines of the enemy.

“They’re counting your men,” Fulop, the master vampire, cautioned. “They will be reporting to someone. Follow them and you will find the cowardly villagers.”

Erlik shoved the dying mage from his sword with the help of his boot. The mage collapsed on the ground, writhing in pain. Fulop casually pushed past Erlik, bent down and sank his teeth into the dying mage’s throat, gulping at the fresh blood. Several of the lesser vampires fell on the two dead bodies, but no one dared challenge Fulop for the fresh blood.

The crows squawked at one another once more as if consulting and then, forming a loose vee in the sky, flew away from the village toward the ancient forest.

“Hurry,” Erlik snapped. “Stay silent. Amon and Dagon are the best with scent and night vision. Get out in front and keep those birds in sight.”

“We’ve never found a way into the forest,” Fulop reminded. “It’s sealed against us.”

“The birds will have a way in,” Erlik said, impatient that Fulop would question him. “They are cowards, hiding in the forest, believing they are safe from us. We will follow the birds into the safe haven and kill them all.”

Amon and Dagon ran at a steady pace, covering the ground leading away from the village toward the dark forest with its ancient trees and veil of mists. Erlik sheathed his sword and then pulled a whip from his belt. Expertly wielding it, he cracked it above the heads of the demons as they ran toward the forest.

He flicked the whip so that it seemed to sizzle, burning through the night. The crack was loud, and every now and then a demon would howl as the whip caught him across the shoulders or back when Erlik felt they weren’t running fast enough. Erlik snarled, his lips drawing back, revealing his sharpened teeth.

“Quiet,” he snapped. “Catch up with the others, or you’ll be fodder for Fulop.”

The demons shuddered and ran faster, not making a sound when the whip cracked across their backs. They crossed into the meadow, pouring into it like locusts, so many the ground groaned under the assault of their feet. The entire mass halted at the edge of the forest.

The demons at the front of the lines cast fearful looks at Erlik. It was impossible to move forward, although there was evidence of animal trails and faint paths beneath the outstretched branches of the trees and the thick vegetation at the forest entrance. Looking in, they could see massive clumps of various flowers, including dragon lilies and peonies. Moss was everywhere, clinging to tree trunks and rocks and even small saplings.

Amon rushed up to Erlik. “There are at least three small openings low in the trees where we observed the crows entering. I successfully followed them in. We tried each opening. There’s one to the north, south and east. We couldn’t find one to the west, but if you divide the troops, I can show you each entrance and then get inside to hold the portal open. That’s what Dagon is doing. He’s inside now, just in case the portal closes. We think he might be able to hold it open long enough for you to get several hundred through.”

Erlik growled his appreciation of the plan. He divided his troops quickly, sending three hundred to the south, four hundred to the north and the last two hundred to the opening in the east part of the forest. He liked that they would come in from three sides, sweeping through the forest, killing everything in their path. He would make short work of the villagers standing in his mistress’ way. She would reward him richly for this night’s work.

He gave the orders to kill every resident of the village, every man, woman and child. They weren’t to leave anyone alive. His chest swelled with pride as he led the largest group to the north. He went through the small portal first, showing no fear. He prided himself that he wasn’t a demon that felt fear, and he refused to ever fail. He ruled through cruelty and force, and his troops respected him. He had no problem slicing a demon in half if they disobeyed him.

The forest was shockingly dark, more so than some of the deep caves in the underworld. Erlik was used to the shrieking of souls being tortured, of demons being created in cruel ways. He was used to heat that never let up. The forest was ancient and smelled—different. The atmosphere was oppressive, the air heavy, making it difficult to breathe. There was a feeling of doom the moment they set foot inside the forest.

A crow took flight over his head, circling his men and letting out harsh squawks of outrage that the demon army had managed to sneak into the forest. He sent an arrow at the bird, but it fell short, and the bird opened his beak and let out another harsh call. At once, two more crows joined with the first one. They looked far too big to glide so smoothly through the tree branches. Erlik decided it best to ignore the creatures; after all, they were only birds.

He signaled to his men to spread out, to cover as much of the forest as possible. The ancient forest wasn’t huge; his men would be able to ferret out the villagers quickly. His troops did as he asked, spreading out so they were a few feet from one another and several rows deep. They weren’t going to miss much. Satisfaction blossomed, although he had never liked things too easy. He wanted to hunt, to have his prey know he hunted them and be terrified.

The crows flitted from one branch overhead to the next, squawking in harsh voices every so many trees. They were high up in the canopy, and although annoying, he didn’t see that they were doing much harm.

The deeper they moved into the interior, the more oppressive Erlik found the air. Dark. Damp. Humid. Eerily silent other than the disturbing crows. Where were the inhabitants that would live there? Perhaps nothing could live in that strange, disorienting place.

Deliberately he stepped on several plants, smashing them, twisting his bootheel hard on the foliage and kicking at it with the steel forks that made up the toe. The ground shivered under his foot, and the feeling of power welled up. Even the ground feared him. Tiny creatures skittered in the underbrush, and the sounds gave him some relief. Eyes seemed to watch them from the clumps of moss on tree trunks and rocks. That made him feel even better. Reptiles, insects, birds and other creatures live in a forest. It is never completely silent.

In the distance, through the gray shroud of mist, he caught a glimpse of a white horse. Sitting astride it was a woman with long black hair that seemed to flow out behind her, even though the horse was barely moving. In the distortion caused by the thick mist, crows seemed to shape the long length of her hair as they flew in a formation behind her head.

Erlik raised his fist and then threw his arm forward, indicating for his men to attack. They began to run toward the woman on the white horse, dodging around the trees and swinging their weapons at brush and plants, hacking through them now that they had a villager in sight. Where there was one, there were bound to be others.

Anguished shrieks reverberated through the forest—screams and bellowing cries, coming from behind them. Erlik whirled around to see many of the demons in the far back and to the right of him writhing on the forest floor. He could barely see with the mist swirling, but there were flashes of orange-red flames and the scent of smoke and rotting corpses. The stench seemed trapped in the gloomy humidity, making it impossible to identify the assailants by smell. The swirling mist made vision poor.

Three crows squawked harshly as they circled above the troops and then flew toward the left side, behind him. At once, the rotting corpse stench seemed to worsen as the shrieks and cries of agony rose to the canopy. Erlik couldn’t make out what was killing his troops, but he was losing far too many men. Orange-red colors began to flare in short bursts of flame, low to the ground, and with each eruption, he knew a demon was incinerated.

The crows chattered harshly directly overhead, calling out to someone. Erlik looked up at the three giant crows and then peered through the mist at the distant woman on the white horse with crows flying around her. Was it possible she was using the birds to spy on them? Was a woman the general? He was certain he was right in his assumption, and the crows were involved, maybe helping to orchestrate the battle.

Before he could direct his forward troops to go back to aid those under attack, hundreds of fiery arrows came out of the mist, targeting the front line. Around him, demons fell to the ground. The moment the demons were writhing on the forest floor, the vegetation seemed to come alive, plants stabbing at the hapless demons, vines tripping them when they tried to get to their feet. The moss seemed to have come alive and was stuffing poisonous mushrooms into the mouths of those on the ground.

Erlik crouched low and began to run from the carnage. There was no saving his men, not when he saw the dragon lily plants come to life, pointing their rolled petals at the downed troops. Red-orange flames spewed at those on the ground, the flames so hot they incinerated the demons instantly. Dragon fire. They knew the slayer might use it against them, but the plants in the forest?

Erlik ran to intercept his three hundred troops coming in from the south. Four of his most powerful demons flanked him as he sprinted through the trees. With every step he took, a crow shrieked and cawed, marking his position. Cursing, he shot arrows at the birds as he ran. He rarely missed, but the sharpened points never came close to the obnoxious birds.

The sound of the crows overhead felt like the heralding of death. Fear crept in when he had always felt invincible. Fear of the sound of the crows. Fear that the forest was alive and everything in it was the enemy. Fear he couldn’t find his prey and would have to return to his mistress a failure. She had no forgiveness in her. He was doomed if he didn’t wipe out the villagers.

Villagers. That was all they were. How many could there be? The numbers he had were very low. Just under three hundred. That included the teens. They weren’t trained in warfare. His army could wipe them out in seconds. Where were the vampires? He’d lost track of Fulop, but the mistress could yank them back into the underworld if they tried to escape. He just needed to get to his army and get his demons back on task.

As he drew closer to the three hundred, he could just make out the demons fighting through the strange purplish mist. They were wholly engaged in a fierce battle. Satisfaction swept through him. He had three hundred strong, and they must have discovered the villagers hiding like the cowards they were. It would take short work to dispatch them, and he could lead his army out of the forest.

He’d like to burn it down, but for some unexplained reason, fire refused to ignite the trees or bushes. He increased his speed, shouting to the demons flanking him and calling out orders in a booming voice.

Branches overhead swayed unnaturally against the wind, seeming to follow his unexpectedly slow progress. Leaves and debris rustled and moved as if alive. The ground rolled beneath his feet, throwing him first one way and then the next. Two of the demons flanking him went down. He turned to yell at them, to drive them to their feet with his whip. To his horror, vines like slithering snakes had dropped from the trees to coil around the demons. Roots from the trees came alive, pushing through the soil, the dangling fibers like greedy fingers grasping and pulling the demons in different directions with enormous strength.

The demons shrieked as a patch of flowers came alive, undulating like a dragon’s body toward them, the folded petals of lily looking like elegant spikes down the spine. A head swung around, and Erlik’s heart stopped. It was a dragon, and sitting astride it was a woman with long pale blond hair. In her hand, she wielded a sword that looked as if multiple dragon lilies sprang from it, all spewing orange-red flames, steady streams of the hated dragon fire.

There she was, right in front of him. His target. His reason for bringing his army. “Kill the demon slayer,” he ordered, slashing at the dragon with his whip. “Kill her now.”

The remaining two demons raced forward to carry out his orders, but again, the vines dropped from above them, coiling fast around both like powerful anacondas from a rainforest. Roots shot from the ground, whipping around ankles and wrists and necks. The demon slayer turned her attention to the two hapless demons, unleashing dragon fire on them. Erlik ran for his life.

He approached his men at a sprint, aware of the fierce battle and knowing he had to identify himself and take charge quickly. He caught sight of Fulop and his minions at last. Five hunters he recognized immediately as Carpathian fought the master and lesser vampires. Arrows fell like rain from the trees where villagers were hidden and seemed to be protected from return fire. The arrows found demon after demon. Crows flew overhead, cawing harshly, stirring the fighters to greater ferocity. In the distance, through the trees and partially obscured by the mist, he could see the white horse with its rider, the one directing the crows and most likely the battle.

Vines dropped from the trees, huge snakes coiling around any fallen demon. And then the demon slayer was there, astride the dragon covered in lilies. Erlik crouched low, ensuring he wasn’t under a tree where vines could find him before he began to creep through the brush, his gaze fixed on his prize. If he killed the slayer, he could turn things around. He could once more take command of his army and return triumphant.

Erlik waited until her back was turned, until she was directing her deadly fire at the fallen demons, and he struck, knowing in the fierce battle no one had seen him. This was his best chance, and triumphantly he utilized it. He had the ability to make large, very high leaps. The dragon was low to the ground, the tail undulating, the wings beating strongly to keep them in the air. He sprang onto the dragon, swinging his heavy sword with one hand and slamming a dagger into the slayer’s back with the other. Before his sword could take her head, he was yanked backward by an unseen hand.

The strength in that hand was bone crushing, reducing his shoulder to powder. The sword fell from lifeless fingers. The pain was excruciating, but he’d been raised in the underworld, where every moment was torment. He could endure pain. He rolled, knowing it was a Carpathian hunter who had saved the slayer’s life.

Erlik didn’t see the man, and he didn’t chance looking to see where he was. He continued to roll, knowing that his blade had sunk deep into the slayer. Like all demon blades, it was tipped with poison and an anticoagulant. The hunter had scored on him, but in the end, he had killed the slayer. They just didn’t know it yet.

To his astonishment, the hunter didn’t follow up on his advantage. When Erlik gained a deep depression where he could conceal himself for a moment, he crouched low, so he could see the battle and mark the position of the hunter. All five Carpathians were engaged in battle with the vampires. The fight looked fierce and bloody, but even he could see that the tide had turned against the vampires and his demons. Few were left alive, and the slayer, slumped as she was over the dragon’s neck, continued to spray the downed men with dragon fire.

With a cry of alarm, the woman on the white horse suddenly switched mounts, leaping from the large horse to the back of a flying dragon. Her dragon appeared to be made up of flowers, not looking lethal in the least.

Erlik wasn’t going to take any chances. He scooted back into the depression, did his best to shut down the pain and then oriented himself in the wild chaos. He knew the three hundred were lost, but it didn’t matter, he knew the slayer would die. Her death would be painful, as befitted an enemy of his mistress.

The moment he was certain the slayer and the woman on the flower dragon were wholly occupied in breathing dragon fire on the remainder of his demons and the hunters were incinerating vampires using whips of lightning, he took off at a run for his remaining army. There were only two hundred left, but that wouldn’t matter to the mistress. She would be more than pleased that he had fulfilled the largest part of his mission. Once the slayer was dead, the Carpathian hunters would leave, and he could return to massacre the villagers. In the end, it would all work out.

He ran, his every sense flaring out to find traps. To his dismay, he heard the harsh cry of the crow over his head, keeping pace with him. Marking him. He didn’t bother to try to fling a spear at the creature; his injury was too severe. He ran until he heard the sounds of a fierce battle, his demons snarling and growling, cursing their opponents.

Abruptly, the heavy mist parted to reveal the battlefield. The fighting took place under several large ancient trees. The branches reached out in all directions, some thick and gnarled and some newer and slender. The limbs of the tree provided an overhead canopy blocking out most of the moonlight, but he managed to make out the figures through the heavy mist.

Erlik halted, so shocked that he could only stare at his last remaining men. They fought each other, hacking and killing the demon closest to them. They snarled and gnashed teeth, shrieking curses and threats at the very men they had marched with.

“I believe you are looking for me.” A soft, compelling voice reached out from the mist.

He found himself straining to hear those low, velvety notes that made up that voice. He swore he could see musical notes of silver and gold and wanted to see more. His mind had been in total chaos, but now he felt calmer.

“You are?” he prompted, needing to hear the voice again.

Around them blood and death were everywhere, but time seemed to stand still as he waited for the answer. He needed to hear that voice. It seemed his centuries of existence had brought him to this one moment—the most important moment of his life.

“I am the demon slayer.”

At first, he couldn’t understand what she said. The quiet statement refused to penetrate. The lily dragon emerged from the mist, not making a sound. On her back was the blond woman he had stabbed with his poisoned dagger. She looked pale, almost gray. He should have felt satisfaction at the sight of her. He knew he had killed her, and the knowledge was in her eyes as well. After centuries of darkness, looking at cruelty and depravity, she nearly blinded him with her light.

He barely noticed the other woman with the wealth of long black hair, crows circling over her head, astride the flower dragon. He had eyes only for the demon slayer. She mesmerized him with her voice, with her light. His mind tuned to her, wanted to reside, just for a small respite, in the peaceful aura of her.

“I have killed you.” For the first time in his life, he felt sorrow.

“I am aware. You wish for peace. For rest. I have come to give that to you.”

The slayer made sense. He never wanted to return to Lilith with her petty cruelties and constant impossible demands. He began to open his arms wide, embracing death, stepping to meet it, when his brain seized. Shrieks of rage filled his head, and Lilith jabbed at his brain with sharpened objects, demanding he slay the woman on the dragon.

Look at her! Look at her, so that I can see her.

Erlik was confused, the pain so bad he went to one knee, but he didn’t lift his head to look at the slayer. He wouldn’t give Lilith that gift, not when she had sent so many to their doom and had no care for those who served her.

He caught sight of a male Carpathian to his left and one to his right. They were ancients and powerful. Both raised their hands and at once the pain receded. Light entered his brain and Lilith cursed him, threatened him, but the shrill voice was little more than an irritation. He felt nothing but relief as the dragon fire engulfed him. He didn’t even feel the flames that incinerated him. At the last moment, before he succumbed to death, he lifted his gaze to the slayer. Tears for him tracked down her face.

I’m sorry, she whispered. There was no other way to free you.

I’m sorry I took one such as you from this world. That was his last thought. His last vision.

The earth rippled and heaved in a series of terrible quakes. Great cracks opened up and several trees toppled. Thunder boomed, but it wasn’t from the sky. It came from below. The sound of ancient wood cracking, splintering, breaking apart. Uneasily, the Carpathians exchanged looks. Owls rose into the air. Bats filled the sky. The forest shivered.

Silke tumbled off Lily right into Benedek’s arms. Her body felt clumsy. Hot. Not her own. Shards of glass seemed to be cutting her insides to pieces. Benedek eased her onto the forest floor, prepared to shed his body to enter hers.

“The gate,” Tora whispered. “I left the gate unguarded.”

“You don’t know it is the gate.” Silke did her best to soothe her friend. Tora had guarded the gate for centuries, keeping Justice away from the world where he could wreak havoc. Where many hunters would die before they were able to destroy him.

“It is the gate,” Tora moaned and dropped her head into her hands. “He has escaped. While our attention was in the forest, on the demons, he broke free.”

“Or Lilith aided him in his escape,” Silke said, “by distracting us with her demon army.” She began to cough. Tiny bubbles of blood appeared on her lips.

“I will take her to the healing cave,” Benedek said. “She needs immediate care.”

“Take me to my mother,” Silke whispered. She closed her eyes against the night. Against the pain. She knew the dagger carried poison, and it was rushing through her system.

“Fenja is here,” Benedek said. There was urgency in his voice.

Silke lifted lashes that were far too heavy. She needed to see her mother one last time. “No mother could have been better,” she said. Or thought she said. There was a strange buzzing in her ears, and she couldn’t hear her own voice.

Tears tracked down Fenja’s face. “Bring her back to me, Benedek. You are loved, Silke.” Fenja bent her head to whisper kisses over her cheeks, something she had rarely—if ever—done. “Bring her back soon.”

“We will return in several risings,” he assured Fenja. “Nicu and Mataias must accompany me. Tora, we will need you. There is nothing you can do about the gate. If we are to save Silke, we must do so now.”

Benedek took command, not waiting for the others, lifting Silke in his arms and streaking through the mist, deeper into the ancient forest where rock formations jutted out of the side of a hill and water streamed down to the river in silver ribbons. Unerringly, he found the crack in the rocks that allowed him to slip into the cave where the soil had been untouched for centuries. It was rich in minerals and would aid in healing Silke and welcoming her to his world.

He leaned over, found her ear with his lips, whispering to her even as he used their much more intimate private path of telepathy. O jel? sielamak, stay with me. Be brave. I am going to push the poison from your system and heal your wound. I will have only a few moments to ensure the conversion and will need your cooperation. If you never trust me again, trust me in this.

I love you, Benedek. Never forget that.

He took that to mean she trusted him, and without waiting for the others, he shed his body and entered hers. She was a mess. She was bleeding internally, but it wasn’t the wound that worried him. He had no trouble repairing the laceration and damage the dagger had done. He did so almost on autopilot as he examined the poison. It was fast acting and had spread through her body, reproducing, mutating, clinging to cells and organs while attacking her body’s defenses.

A blinding light joined him and then a second as both Nicu and Mataias shed their physical bodies to become pure spirits.

We will need blood, Benedek, Nicu said after surveying the damage.

I will call my brothers to us. Mataias sounded grim. We will have need of them before this is over.

The poison ran wild. Benedek had seen many poisons developed against the hunters throughout the centuries. This one was new to him. He didn’t panic or hurry. That way lay disaster. He took the time to study the poison, its fast-mutating and -replicating cells. The behavior of the poison. The way it destroyed cells and multiplied at an alarming rate.

He surveyed the damage to Silke’s heart, automatically slowing her heart and lungs in an effort to slow the spread of the poison. It wasn’t that difficult to stop the original strain—the structure of the poison was known to him, a very basic beginning. He studied the various mutated strains, each seemingly more aggressive than the last. Each more complicated.

We have to separate the faster strains, he told the others, the ones causing the most damage. I’ve counted four.

I agree—aside from the original, there are four mutated variations, Mataias stated.

It took precious time to repair the walls of her heart and destroy the original strain. By that time, Benedek had some knowledge of how the poison invaded cells, reshaping them and multiplying quickly inside them. He shared that knowledge with the other two healers working to save Silke.

Nicu was driving the poison from her lungs. Mataias ensured that the brain was free of all poisons. Benedek began work on her arteries. Poison surged toward him, on the offensive, aggressive in its determination to slay its victim. Benedek sent antibodies against the poisonous cells. He had to change his tactics several times, reshaping the antibodies so they could fight each mutation even as he forced the poison out through her pores whenever he could.

Tora destroyed the demonic toxic substances as they dropped to the floor of the cave. She’d lit aromatic candles and filled the space with herbs and healing scents. She sang the healing chant. From a distance, Fenja’s voice blended with hers. Lojos and Tomas arrived, both chanting the healing chant as they assessed the situation.

It took tremendous strength for Benedek, Nicu and Mataias to remain light and energy, pure healing spirits as they battled the ever-mutating poison long into the night. The toxin changed often to escape the antibodies created by the men. At times, they burned through the poison as well as pushing it out of pores to eradicate it. All the while the three struggled to keep Silke alive.

Benedek whispered to her, his voice at times compelling. Sometimes commanding. Always holding her to him with ruthless determination. He refused to acknowledge defeat, no matter how many times her heart stuttered and the poison raged. He would not lose her. His brethren fought just as hard. Twice he returned to his body for blood. Both times Lojos fed him. The moment Lojos had given blood, he returned to the village to feed so he would be at full strength to give more. Tomas provided for Nicu. Tora gave her ancient blood to Mataias. Not a single one of them faltered or felt the task too great. They aided Benedek without reservation, giving everything they had to save his lifemate.

The moment Silke was free of the poison, Benedek gathered her into his arms. She felt light, insubstantial, almost as if she’d already left her body. He kissed her gently. Her lashes fluttered in response, but she didn’t open her eyes.

“I will take your blood, Silke, and then you must accept mine. It is the only way to save your life. The only way to bring you into my world.”

He felt her move in his mind, a caressing stroke of assent, and he buried his teeth in her without hesitation. They had no time to waste. None. She had to be converted fast. Her strength was waning. As it was, it would take his brethren and Tora, even Fenja, to aid her through the conversion.

When he had taken enough blood for a true exchange, he opened the line she was familiar with along his chest. Silke was too weak, although she tried for him. He aided her, cradling her head to him, using his skills, merging deep with her to aid her in drawing out his ancient blood and holding it in her body.

When she had taken enough, they prepared for the conversion. It was always painful and rather terrifying. The five men and Tora exchanged as much information as they knew of the process and the various ways other women had been helped into their world. It didn’t take long for her nearly dead body to be taken very savagely by the change.

Organs reshaped with the fierce fire of a blowtorch. It was impossible to shoulder all the pain, but Benedek and the others did their best as her body convulsed and seized. The transition was so violent Tora and Fenja wept and Benedek didn’t blame them. Dawn crept toward them when Silke was finally far enough into the conversion that Benedek felt it safe to send her to sleep and put her into the healing ground.

Exhausted, the hunters and Tora found resting places close to one another, something rarely done. All felt as if they needed to protect the newest Carpathian woman when she rose.