It took every ounce of her control and determination to make her way over the uneven ground. She had never known such weakness. She couldn’t even help Father Hummer. It took total concentration to put one foot in front of the other. Once she sat down hard, shocked to realize she hadn’t tripped over anything. Her legs had simply given out. Not looking at her captor, Raven pushed herself up again. She didn’t want him touching her. She was cold, inside and out, afraid she might never be warm again.
Feed on the priest, the vampire ordered, rage smoldering in his tone.
Raven blinked, finding herself looking around even though the voice was in her head. The vampire had established a blood bond with her, could monitor her at will. Go to hell. She contended herself with the childish retort.
His laughter taunted her. You gave your blood to Jacques. I should have guessed. He will not live; I made certain his was a mortal wound.
Raven summoned up contempt, flooding her mind with it. It was becoming difficult to think clearly, and she had fallen too many times to count. Her captor thrust her into the back seat of a vehicle beside the priest and began to drive at breakneck speed down the mountains. Raven rolled over, grateful that the windows had been blackened and the interior was dark. Lethargy was taking over; her body felt like lead.
Feed! The vampire was sharply imperious.
Raven was thankful that she could defy him. She couldn’t sleep, didn’t dare until she knew Jacques was safe. Mikhail and Gregori were racing the sun, powerful wings beating strongly as they flew toward the old cabin. They would burrow deep into the soil the moment they were able, taking Jacques with them.
Raven. The call was closer, filling her mind with love. You are so weak.
Save Jacques. Come to me tonight, Mikhail. The vampire knows my thoughts. He thinks he is safe, that I can be used to trap you. Don’t let him be right. She tried desperately to send the words clearly to him, but her brain was sluggish.
“Raven?” Edgar Hummer touched her forehead, finding her ice cold. Her skin was so pale, she seemed nearly translucent, her blue eyes sunken, like two bruised flowers pressed into her face. “Can you talk? Is Mikhail alive?”
She nodded, surveying his swollen face with dismay. “What have they done to you? Why would they beat you this way?”
“They say they’re certain I know where Mikhail keeps all of his spare coffins. According to Andre…”
“Who is Andre?”
“The treacherous vampire in league with these killers. He is a true undead, feeding on children, destroying all that is holy. His soul is lost for all eternity. As far as I can tell, Andre appears to be deliberately perpetuating the vampire myths. He claims that Mikhail is the head vampire and if they succeed in killing him, those under his influence will be returned to mortal existence. He must have established a blood bond without their knowledge and he uses it to give them orders.”
Raven closed her eyes weakly. Her heart was struggling to pump without necessary blood; her lungs cried out for oxygen. “How many of them are there?”
“Three that I’ve seen. This one is James Slovensky. His brother Eugene is their supposed leader, and their muscle man is Anton Fabrezo.”
“Two of them stayed at the inn with the American couple. We thought they had left the country. This Andre must be a lot more powerful than anyone suspects.”
Her voice was fading, her speech slurring. Father Hummer watched as she tried to lift her arm to push her hair away from her face. Her arm seemed too heavy; her face seemed too great a distance away. He did it for her with gentle fingers.
Raven! There was anguish in Mikhail’s voice.
It was too difficult to answer him; it required far too much strength. The priest shifted so that her head could fall against his arm. Raven was shivering with cold. “I need a blanket back here for her.”
“Shut up, old man,” Slovensky snapped. His eyes continually searched the sky through his windshield. The sun was up, but heavy clouds dimmed the sky, hiding the light.