Gregori remained hunkered down, low to the ground, his solid bulk rivaling the broad tree trunks. He was totally motionless, his shadowed face expressionless. His eyes were a slash of silver, of mercury forever moving restlessly in the granite mask. Gregori rose slowly, fluid power and raw danger.
“Thank you for coming,” Mikhail said simply. Gregori. His oldest friend. His right hand. Their greatest healer, the relentless hunter of the undead.
“Romanov was taken to the hospital and sedated,” Jacques said softly. “I told the townspeople that you and Raven were away for a few days. You are popular with the villagers and all of them are outraged by what happened.”
“Can we neutralize the damage done to our people?” Mikhail asked.
“We can minimize it,” Gregori said truthfully. “But Romanov has already sent out whatever damning evidence he found to several others. We must prepare ourselves for a siege. Our entire way of life will be changed for all time.” Gregori shrugged powerful shoulders carelessly.
“His evidence?”
“Fingerprints, photos. He was already drugged, Mikhail. The doctors believe he is completely insane and dangerous to himself and to others. The images I picked out of his mind were confused. His parents; mainly his mother. He evidently discovered her body. Your house. Guilt. The fire.” Gregori surveyed the sky above him with a slow, careful sweep of his pale, silver eyes. His craggy features remained utterly still, harsh.
Danger emanated from Gregori. His entire body, his very demeanor spoke of power, of menace. Although Gregori’s expression was empty, Mikhail felt the monster in him, wild and untamed, lurking just below the surface, struggling to break free. Their eyes met in a kind of hopeless understanding. Another war. More killings. The more often a male had to kill, the more dangerous the whisper of power, the call to vampire became. Violence was the one thing that allowed a centuries-old male to feel briefly. That in itself was a terrible inducement for one in a dark, hopeless world.
Gregori looked away, not wanting to see the compassion on Mikhail’s face. “We have no choice but to discredit him.”
“Before anything else, Raven must be safe and guarded while we take care of this problem,” Mikhail said abruptly.
“Your woman is very fragile,” Gregori warned softly. “Bring her to the surface and clothe her before I awake her.”
Mikhail nodded. Gregori clearly read his intentions. There was no way he would have her awaken in what seemed to her a cold grave. Jacques and Gregori moved into the forest to give Mikhail privacy. Only after Raven was safe in his arms did Mikhail think to add her human American garb. Made of natural fibers, easy for a Carpathian to manipulate, he fashioned blue jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Gregori.
Raven woke strangling, clutching her throat, desperate to drag air into her burning lungs. She was confused, panic-stricken, struggling desperately. “Feel the air on your skin,” Mikhail ordered softly, his mouth against her ear. “Feel the night, the wind. You are safe in my arms. The night is beautiful; the colors and scents speak to us.”
Raven’s blue-violet eyes were all over the place, seeing nothing, taking in nothing. She inhaled deeply, and made herself as small as possible. The cool night air was working a slow magic, easing the terrible strangling in her throat. Tears glittered like gems in her eyes, tangled in her long lashes.
Mikhail tightened his hold on her so that she could feel the enormous strength in his powerful frame. Slowly, inch by inch, her body became less rigid, so that she relaxed into him. He touched her mind with a gentle, warm stroke, finding her struggling for control.
“I am here with you, Raven.” Deliberately he spoke the words out loud, so he would sound as human as possible. “The night is calling to us, welcoming us; can you hear it? There is such beauty in the song of insects, the night creatures. Let yourself hear it.” He used a rhythmic, compelling tone, almost hypnotic.
Raven drew her knees up, lay her forehead on them, hunching into herself. She was rocking back and forth, her hold on reality a tenuous thread. She simply breathed in and out, appreciating the ability to do so, concentrating on the mechanics of it.