Immediately the candles in the sconces blazed into life, illuminating the room. Zev’s hand moved to her thigh in a gesture of comfort. His fingers splayed wide, wrapping halfway around her leg, as if gluing himself to her. His strength gave her added courage. She was grateful to him for providing added light. Evil sought darkness and shadow, slipping through those avenues to commit ugly deeds.
The sound of water seemed overly loud in the large chamber. The stalactites and stalagmites were ominously silent, so that the carved faces of the ancients appeared somber and staring. She shivered as her heart thundered in her ears.
“To think that one man could commit such evil over so many centuries is beyond comprehension,” Branislava said, her voice dropping lower. “While Xavier was the face of the mages, the man befriending Carpathians and betraying them, he was not alone in his plans to become immortal.”
Mikhail turned his head toward Gregori. They exchanged a long look, as if perhaps her revelation did not come as a huge surprise. Neither responded aloud, allowing her to give them information at her own pace.
Branislava wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “Naming evil, uttering its name, can bring it to you. We learned that long ago.” She looked at her sister and there was fear in her eyes. “There were three of us born to our mother. Soren, Tatijana and me.”
Gregori’s head went up, as if scenting danger, his silver eyes slashing through her growing terror.
“There were three of you,” he hissed softly. “The bloodline of the High Mage.”
Branislava nodded her head slowly.
I call to thee with in mind the three,
I feed your life blood, three must be.
Children of air, earth, fire and sea,
I call you into our world to be.
She whispered the words. “Xavier manipulated the birth of triplets, ensuring Rhiannon, my mother, would continue the bloodline of the High Mage. But we were not the first triplets born into the mage line.”
“So Xavier is one of three,” Mikhail said, letting out his breath. “Triplets.”
Branislava nodded again. “That secret was kept beyond all others. They were identical in every way. They moved alike and talked in the same voice. They were rarely seen together and never where others might discover the secret. It allowed them to be in more than one place at a time, or provide an alibi should someone accuse Xavier of evildoing.”
“Which is why no one discovered he was the one who had killed Rhiannon’s lifemate,” Fen said. “He was able to keep her prisoner for so long because so many Carpathians swore he was teaching them a class in safeguards when the murder and kidnapping took place.”
Mikhail leaned toward Branislava, his dark eyes on her face. “Why did you not tell us of this threat immediately? The moment you were rescued?”
Branislava couldn’t look away from those penetrating eyes. Her breath came out in a long rush. “Xavier killed them. Both of his brothers. He killed them like he killed Soren. He was obsessed with blood and the power of it.”
She turned to look at Zev, her voice dropping another octave, as if whispering would prevent evil from hearing. “All three were on a quest for Dark Blood. At that time we didn’t realize it was a bloodline. They believed that anyone possessing Dark Blood could build an army of soldiers that would be invincible. But they never found what they were looking for.”
“Perhaps they did,” Mikhail mused aloud. “Fen, you and Dimitri ran into more than one Sange rau you believed had been newly made. It is possible someone has or had access to Carpathian blood and is using it to create their own superior soldiers.”
“So one targets the Carpathian species to bring them down while another goes after the Lycan species,” Gregori said. “The third must have gone after the Jaguars.”
Branislava nodded slowly. “We believed them to be dead,” she reiterated. “We believed Xavier killed his brothers for his own purposes.”
“Did you see them actually die?” Fen asked.
Branislava nodded. “Xavier cast a spell with one of them, his brother, Xaviero. They were working on a dark spell to enslave the living. They took blood from us to fill the ceremonial chalice.”
She rubbed her arm where the faint slashes laced up and down her forearm and wrist as if the wounds were open and throbbing. Tatijana mirrored her actions.
Zev gently took her arm and rubbed his palm in long, caressing strokes over the faded marks in her soft skin.
Branislava touched her tongue to her dry lips. “They both drank from the chalice. Xaviero even saluted us with the jeweled cup.” She swallowed hard, a small shudder running through her body. “He had this way of smirking at us that was terrible. We knew when he looked like that, he was going to do what he loved best . . .” She trailed off.
Zev immediately surrounded her with warmth and wrapped her up in love. Deliberately, she allowed herself to look up at him. He was strong and comforting. Good. A decent and honorable man. The memories of Xavier, Xaviero and their brother Xayvion left her sick inside. Sometimes she felt she might never get the memories of true evil out of her mind, but being with Zev certainly allowed her to distance them.
“What was that?” Gregori prompted. “What did he love best?”
“Hurting others. He was very depraved. Much worse than Xavier or Xayvion.” Branislava pressed her lips together tightly. “He liked keeping his victims alive and toying with them for hours, even days. Man, woman or child, it didn’t matter. And like Xavier, he loved an audience.” She pressed her hand to her mouth, feeling sick. “I can’t talk about him anymore. I can’t think about this.”