“They did not have much time to set such traps,” Mikhail observed. “Byron was taken no more than an hour ago, if that.”
“Perhaps we are underestimating this vampire, Mikhail. I could manufacture such traps, and so could you. Aidan and Julian could do so, and no doubt Jacques. Who else do we know who has this kind of power?” Gregori asked softly.
“There are few others over the age of six hundred years,” Mikhail said.
“Perhaps this is a crime of hate more than of age,” Jacques ventured. “What was done to me was done with the idea of causing as much suffering as I could take before death claimed me. That is a crime of hatred, one of revenge.”
Gregori and Mikhail exchanged a quick, knowing look. “Of course, you have to be right, Jacques,” Mikhail agreed for both of the ancients. “A vampire would avoid us, not try to draw us to him. So whom did you anger enough to warrant this much hatred?”
Jacques shrugged calmly. His own hatred was deep and smoldering, a rage so ingrained that he knew the demon would rise within him the moment he encountered any of those involved in his torture and imprisonment. Whoever hated him so much had created a like feeling within him, hatred that not only matched but surpassed anything the vampire might feel. “You know more of my past than I do, but it really does not matter, as long as he believes I wronged him,” Jacques said. “It is here. The door is here.”
“The human is dozing.” Mikhail probed the mind of the unseen man carefully. “He is supremely confident that he will be undisturbed.”
Gregori, too, was probing the human. “I like none of this, Mikhail. It seems too easy. The vampire knows we can travel in the early morning hours. Our powers might not be at full strength, but even diminished, we can handle humans easily.”
“You stay out of sight, Gregori, watch our backs,” Mikhail cautioned. “I will instruct the human to open the cellar and allow us in. Jacques and I will test for a trap.”
“Jacques and I will go inside, Mikhail. We cannot risk your life. You know that.” Gregori did not wait for a response. He had spent most of his life guarding Mikhail, the dispenser of justice for his people. Even with his lifemate so close to existence, Gregori would not back away from this duty. He seized the human’s mind with ease, demanding information.
Jeff Smith woke abruptly, a pain in his head, uneasiness gripping his very soul. In his mind was something that did not belong to him, something powerful that demanded every detail of the past few days, insisted on a blow-by-blow replay of the past few hours. He tried to resist, but the thing was far too powerful to ignore. He went over every detail. The vampire bringing the paralyzed Carpathian, Donnie burning and slicing the victim, Slovensky laughing and egging him on. The vampire standing emotionless, watching with empty eyes and frankly scaring the hell out of Jeff. Donnie and Slovensky going for supplies, whispering to each other and the vampire.
The vampire promised no one would be able to find them; his spells would safeguard the makeshift dungeon until nightfall. The other vampires would be trapped in the ground until night. Jeff was safe and could torment their victim at will. Smith wished he had the woman, the red-haired doctor. He had delicious thoughts of what he would do with her for long hours at a time.
Jacques made a sound, not aloud but in his mind, and immediately broke all contact with Shea. She could not witness the demon rising in him. Already fangs were exploding in his mouth, and the red haze demanding a kill was spewing upward with violent, murderous intent. A low, warning growl escaped him, and he hissed at Gregori to warn him off his kill.
Mikhail moved to intercept his brother. “We have need of this man.”
Gregori placed himself firmly between the two Carpathians, recognizing immediately that Jacques’ tattered mind was focused on only one thing. Do not try to interfere, Mikhail. He will attack you. He is not healed, and he is very dangerous. We cannot control him, and he has shut out the woman. She is his only hold on reality. We cannot save this human. He shrugged as if to say it didn’t matter to him one way or the other. And it didn’t. If Mikhail had not been with them, Gregori would have already dispensed his own brand of justice.