Members of the Sacred Circle that Barnabas had gotten to in the various chapters would come forward to add their voices of condemnation to those of the orphaned children. The royals would be killed this night, with the exception of Vasilisa. He needed her alive for his plan to work. He intended for Olga to subdue her right before the wretched woman burst like a ripe fruit, spilling his army into the room to kill the other royals.
The Lycans living abroad would return swiftly to defend their homeland from the Carpathians. By capturing Vasilisa, he would ensure they would come—all of them. They would need the one remaining royal, and they would do anything to get her back. All of them would believe the elders in the Sacred Circle, and they would go to war with the Carpathians.
By bringing in the government agents, making them believe the old oil field was a gold mine and the royals were committing treason, he had hoped to keep the ruling family occupied while he put his army in place. Unfortunately, Xavier, Barnabas and Lilith had no patience. None. Xavier never had.
Lilith was ridiculous thinking she could control the demon behind the gates with Dragonseeker blood. She couldn’t control the Dragonseeker. She wasn’t clever. But Xayvion had listened carefully to her wailing about how she had lost him, and she had this contract. Xayvion had studied the wording of the contract. He realized Afanasiv had stayed true to his word, never violating it.
Olga just had to get Vasilisa to say she would “lend” her lifemate or “give” her lifemate for the child’s whereabouts. Her wording was important. The Dragonseeker could be tricked into giving his word of honor, as well. Once that was accomplished, the pair belonged toXayvion. They would have to do whatever he said, including keep the blood from changing while he experimented on it.
The two ancients had been in the high mage’s mind for far too long. He fascinated Afanasiv. He was a brilliant man. His mind had actually thought out the logistics of such a plan and put it in steps and then put the plan into action. He had taken his time, seeing to every detail, uncaring that time passed by. Time meant nothing to him.
Vasilisa, stay away from Olga. Antagonize her so she does that head shaking again.
Afanasiv didn’t send the thought to his lifemate. He built the images in his head, knowing a small part of her had remained merged with him.
“You say our mother stole our father away from you.” Vasilisa whirled around, her white fur swirling gracefully around her ankles. “You come here thinking to steal another woman’s man from her.Myman. It seems to me that you are the thief.”
More of the ceiling fell, so that white powder eddied around them like a snowstorm. Olga’s face turned so red it was purple. She coughed. Her snout elongated. She shook her head back and forth, her snarls and growls rumbling louder and louder in warning.
“You admit to stealing our parents’ lives. You stole a child from her mother. You tried to steal Rudlof’s dignity and pride. Perhaps the only way you can get a man is to steal one or to use spells on them until they don’t know who they are anymore.”
“Vasilisa.” Andros snapped her name like a command. “Stop this at once. I need to know where little Alyona is.” He put his hand on his sister’s arm and drew her behind him protectively. It put him in a very vulnerable position. “Olga, please forgive Vasilisa. She’s distraught over the revelations you’ve disclosed. Hearing you say you never loved us has really shaken her. When she was a child, she followed you everywhere, do you remember that? Please tell me where the little one is.”
There was no stopping Olga. She was furious. Enraged beyond all comprehension. Her eyes went bright red. Glowing. Fangs drippedlong strings of venomous saliva. Her body contorted as her wolf tried to emerge in order to set upon those she considered her mortal enemies. She was so far gone she could no longer form words.
Petru and Afanasiv slipped out of the high mage’s mind and made their way quickly out of Olga’s unstable brain. Just before they made their exit, both turned at the same time and took aim at the sliver of Xayvion. He was trying to force the command out of Olga to trigger his army to burst out of her. Using white-hot energy, they concentrated the attack like a laser point, aiming ruthlessly at the tiny bump.
Olga shrieked with an agony of torment and horror as the pain in her head exploded. Xayvion roared his command to her, forcing obedience with magic as he retreated, leaving the tiny sliver of himself to die under the ferocity of the Carpathian light. Olga’s body twisted and knotted, her flesh pushing out in different directions, stretching as if she were made of rubber. Blood burst from her pores as her skin cracked open. Claws and talons grasped at the seams of the broken flesh and tore from the inside out. Blood poured onto the floor. Olga’s body was shredded to pieces as dark shapes began to emerge.
CHAPTER
18
Petru and Afanasiv placed their bodies squarely between the royals and the emerging army.Get outside, into the open, sívamet. Get your brothers outside.
The room was far too small, and with so many inside, the blood on the floor making it slippery to take a step, the enemy would have the advantage getting to the royals. The stench was unbearable—a foul smell permeating the air.
Garald managed to get the door open, grabbed Rudlof by the front of his shirt and thrust him outside. Andros all but shoved his sister out the door, following her closely. Grigor moved up to her side and Garald took her other side.
Once in the open, the royals spread out, giving each other room while still being close enough to protect one another.
The wind rose to a fever pitch, howling as it raced toward them, coming down the mountain in a rush of bitter cold. Dark clouds rolled and pitched, black and then gray in an angry boiling mix of icy mist. Lightning veined underneath the edges of the clouds, strobing the dark sky with brief flashes of white-hot energy. A few yards away, the forest seemed alive, thick tree branches beating the air wildly, needlesflying like tiny spears in all directions as the wind hit from first one direction and then another.
Afanasiv positioned himself close to his lifemate. “Six demons coming at us from the house. They look to be elites. There are eight vampires. At least three could be master vampires. Xayvion wouldn’t have placed lesser vampires who were unable to protect their masters. He wants a decisive victory.”
Andros gave a short, brisk nod, acknowledging the information as he tore off his clothes, allowing his wolf freedom. His sister and Garald were the best at fighting demons. Grigor and he would help the ancients with the vampires.
“They want your deaths above all others,” Afanasiv reminded him.
Vasilisa drew her sword from beneath her coat. Garald took her back, his sword raised high. They kept their gazes fixed on the large figures with the horns on their heads as they came stomping out of the house, looking like giant bulls standing upright on back legs. At once, the red, glowing eyes locked on the two royals. The demons snorted and stamped their cloven hooves. Gray smoke streamed out of the wide nostrils. They lowered their heads and charged.
Behind the demons came the vampires, hissing and spreading out the moment they were out of the house, taking to the air, going in different directions. Afanasiv kept his attention on them as they burst from the structure, trying to dull their images, still disoriented from being small shadows locked inside Olga. He waited to lock on to one of the master vampires.
The lesser vampires coming out first were to provide distraction so their masters could escape all discovery. The masters waited, hidden, having no idea that the ancients and royals knew anything of their numbers or plans.
As the lesser vampires flew at the royals shrieking, trying to encircle them, Fen and Zev materialized out of the air, slamming their fists deep into the chests of the two vampires closest to Andros andripping out their hearts. Lightning forked across the sky and slammed down to incinerate the two hearts, immediately jumping to the bodies of the two vampires before they even fell from the sky to the ground.
One lesser vampire had managed to get above Garald and had started his descent, teeth and claws out, his speed increasing as he got closer to the royal. Garald’s attention was fully occupied with the demons bearing down on him. The vampire ran full force into a barrier, impaling his chest on wicked talons that drove right through muscle and bone and fastened around his heart. Shrieking, he backpedaled, pulling away, using his hands to tear at the barrier. By pulling away, he assisted in the extraction of his heart. Razvan tossed the heart away from the vampire into the air, right into a jagged vein of lightning. The streak of white-hot energy forked to include the vampire’s rotting body, incinerating both body and heart.