Dark Challenge. Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 5

Desari fed the two of them with her own power and voice, applying steady pressure against the hold the vampire had on Syndil. She could feel the undead’s fingers slipping from around her own throat. He could not sustain his energy in so many different directions. If he was to fight to retain Syndil within his trap, he had to release Desari. As the stranglehold lessened, Desari’s voice continued to pour out in a stream of beauty and triumph, a songbird free to roam the skies, to aid all within range of her voice.

Darius heard the silvery notes, joyous, a celebration of life. Around him, in the nearby fields and streams, he caught the reaction of the wildlife to her voice. It swelled into the wind and was carried easily across the blackened ruins of the forest. It held the ghouls silent as they began their charge. They thought him helpless, caught in the snare of their master’s trap, the binding spell making him their prisoner, yet Desari’s voice prevented such a thing. Her notes, resounding in his head, kept him safe as nothing else could.

His sister. She had always filled him with such awe. So beautiful from the inside out. Her womanly magic, a force for good, was far more powerful than what he wielded. Because he no longer was able to feel, he held fast to his memories of her. In this battle he relied on her voice. She would not fail to hold Syndil. Her voice could do no other than torment the vampire, weakening him further.

Darius felt the earth tremble, knew the struggle the undead was having with Barack, Syndil, and Desari. He knew the precise moment the monster allowed Syndil to slip through his fingers. Darius felt the hesitation in power, the shift. As the ghouls launched their combined attack, the vampire burst through the earth’s soil in an all-out assault against Julian.

Darius waited until the last possible moment, holding himself still, arms outstretched, a seeming sacrifice to the evil one. His face was turned up to the heavens, the darkened clouds and arcing lighting, the wind whipping his jet-black hair around him. He slowly lowered his head so that his merciless eyes encompassed the rushing ghouls. Fiery flames seemed to dance in the depths of his gaze. He looked invincible, a phantom of the night, the prince of darkness, yet his outstretched hands were turned palms up toward the heavens in supplication.

The very heavens seemed to answer his silent prayer, opening the gates so that a flood of water poured down as if a dam had broken. Through the sheets of rain ran bolts of electricity that never seemed to seek the ground. Thunder crashed and rocked the ground, deadly as any earthquake. Seams burst open in the earth, ragged tears that allowed the water to rush along like ever-swelling rivers. The ghouls had reached the very epicenter of their master’s trap, their stick arms reaching to gore Darius with so many knives, yet Darius was already gone from the center of their ghastly circle. Only the sheets of water were there to pour over the wailing creatures.

Steam rose from the thin, robed figures, hissing as it released the caricatures from their bondage. Black smoke melded with the white steam, the putrid mixture rising as vapor and dissipating. Darius didn’t wait to see the results of his handiwork; he was already rocketing toward the two beasts in battle, one darkly evil, one a golden warrior, slashing at one another in the sky.

The vampire, raging at the destruction of his plan, ripped at Julian’s chest with razor-sharp talons, hissing hideously, spewing tainted saliva along with his wrath. He screamed his disappointment as Julian somehow miraculously twisted away from his attack, the daggerlike claws missing by a millimeter. Julian was already maneuvering around for his strike. A raging vampire was a careless one. Julian shut out all thought, all reason, all emotion. His attack was swift and brutal, scoring long furrows across the unprotected belly so that blood began to run freely in four streams. Julian moved out of the line of assault, circling.

Darius exploded into the battle, his retaliation vicious and without mercy or fear. He drove in straight for the kill. His challenge was clear. The undead could elect to stand and fight, but either way, Julian or Darius would destroy him. It was kill or be killed. If Julian and Darius were inflicted with mortal wounds, so be it. The vampire would die with them. There were no half measures in either hunter, no pity or mercy. This ancient menace had dared to challenge them. He would be destroyed.