Within his black dragon form, Mitro screamed in shock and pain and insane rage. He'd been certain of his victory-certain of his physical superiority over Danutdaxton-but each of Dax's blows struck deep, while each of Mitro's own were turned away by diamond-hard scales and a seemingly impenetrable red hide. Mitro didn't understand. How was this possible?
He writhed wildly but could not break free of the red dragon's fierce grip. Locked in a death battle he suddenly realized he might not win, Mitro began a desperate, brutal assault on Dax's one possible weak spot: the scales over his heart where, even in dragon form, blood was seeping from the terrible wound Mitro had dealt him. With vicious determination and demonic speed, Mitro landed a series of punishing blows on the bloody spot. The chest plate bent, but before it could break, Dax's fangs sank deep in Mitro's shoulder, ripping out a massive chunk of flesh and tendon.
Writhing, screaming, ripping, biting, the two giant beasts plummeted toward the burning ground. Seconds before impact, the two dragons ripped apart, wings spread wide to catch the wind and send them soaring in opposite directions.
Mitro pushed hard, pumping his wings with desperate speed to climb back up into the air. The red dragon pursued him with single-minded determination. The calm, relentless, determined hunter who never surrendered the chase.
He couldn't outrun Dax and, though it still made no sense, clearly couldn't best him with strength alone. Mitro needed an edge, an advantage. His eyes narrowed to obsidian slits, focused on the ash cloud billowing from the erupting volcano. Putting on a burst of speed, he flew straight into the boiling black heart of the plume.
Through the Old One's eyes, Dax watched Mitro dive into the superheated ash cloud. As he disappeared from view, the wind shifted, beginning to spiral around the cloud.
What was he doing? The circling winds gathered the particles of hot ash in an ever-tightening vortex around the wounded vampire. Did he think he could hide in the cloud?
The Old One let out another roar of challenge and dove straight toward the vampire, eager to end the threat.
The concentrated debris in the air dropped visibility to zero, but the dragon's vision saw more than even Carpathian eyes. He could see the changes in the density of air, the solid form at the heart of the whirling black ash cloud. The black vampire was motionless, wings outstretched, letting the unnatural cyclonic winds keep him aloft. Dax could almost feel the vampire healing his wounds from the inside. Closing tears in vital organs and stopping blood loss where the dragon had sliced and torn.
The red dragon was practically on top of Mitro when all the rock and debris in the air solidified into a packed wall that completely blocked the vampire from view. Fearless, certain of his dominance, the red dragon brought his hind legs and forelegs into position for another strike, and plowed through the relatively thin barrier, shattering it on impact.
But instead of finding a vulnerable, wounded opponent on the other side of the ash wall, they slammed full force into the hard point of the black dragon's tail-a point Mitro had transformed from simple flesh, scale and bone into a razor-sharp trident of silver spikes, each two feet long and glinting with evil, serrated at the tips.
Screaming in surprise and pain, the red dragon impaled itself on Mitro's spiked tail. Dax gasped in agony, feeling the spikes as if they were tearing through his own flesh.
Luckily, instead of taking the speared tail through the heart, the spike embedded deep in his stomach. The serrated edges were making quick work of the Old One's insides, but because they'd missed the heart, it bought Dax and the dragon a few precious minutes.
Once more, the two dragons were locked in a death battle as they plummeted from the sky. Mitro stuck fast to the other dragon, claws and tail spike digging deep. The Old One continued to claw and shred at Mitro's belly and limbs, teeth snapping at Mitro's neck and head. The black dragon rammed his tail spike up under the red dragon's ribs, seeking the elusive heart, but just as before, Mitro's shapeshifted dragon form was no match for the might of the Old One. Mitro reeled back in pain.
That flinch gave the Old One the opening he'd been waiting for. His teeth bore down lightning fast just above the shoulder, wrapping around the smaller neck, powerful jaws snapping shut with extreme force. The black dragon returned a bite on the other's face, his fangs sinking deep beside the Old One's left eye.
The dragons crashed into the mountainside, rolling down the steep sides, crushing trees in their path. A hard jolt broke them apart. Mitro came to a stop first, while the larger, heavier Old One continued to roll almost to the base of the volcano. Wounded, one wing torn and bloody, the red dragon struggled to its feet and screamed its defiance, eyes still locked on its combatant, refusing to lose sight of his goal.
Inside the body of the dragon, the Old One's rage and pain buffeted Dax with a maelstrom of emotion. The Old One was determined to win despite its injuries. Dax wasn't sure how much more their shared body could take, but the Old One fought off his attempts to control the red dragon. All around them, ash and burning chunks of pumice continued to rain down from the erupting volcano.
The red dragon tucked its weakened wing tight against its back and began to climb up the mountain toward Mitro. Still reeling from the brutal fight and equally brutal landing, the black dragon righted himself with shaky, labored motions. Black wings extended and flapped as Mitro tried to gather his strength and take to the air.
Unwilling to let his prey escape, the Old One put on a burst of speed, latched on to the black dragon's rear leg and threw him into a stand of nearby trees.
Riley blinked rapidly as the cave around them disintegrated. Ash continued to fall, soft drifting petals that choked the air and covered the trees and foliage like down. The forest around them was intact-the blast hadn't flattened the trees on their side of the mountain-but a few scattered fires and mud had done major damage. Several hundred feet up, she could see the devastation of the ruins of the Cloud People's village. Fires glowed all up and down the mountain, orange and red valiantly struggling through the darkened ash swirling in the air.
"We can't stay up here," Jubal said, covering his mouth and nose. "The wind is shifting our way and there's every possibility of a gas cloud coming at us from the other side."
"I can't see a trail," Ben said. "How are we going to find our way back without Miguel?"
"We've got GPS," Gary said. "And once the ash settles enough, we've got friends we can call in to pull us out with a helicopter, but we should try to find Miguel and the others just in case."
Riley's head jerked up. There was that ominous note in his voice-in the way he worded it. She let her breath out, coughed and covered her mouth. "I think I can track them," she admitted with a small glance at Ben.
"Of course you can," Ben said. "You can build caves and stop volcanos. I'm just looking for the thigh-high boots and cape." He flashed her a little grin and wiggled his eyebrows.
In spite of the circumstances she laughed. "I wish I had my cape. I'd fly us out of here."
Gary took the lead. Riley and Ben fell into step behind him. Jubal brought up the rear as they began to make their way down the mountain. Ash was thick powder on the ground, in the foliage, falling from the trees above them until they were nearly drowning in it. They wrapped shirts around their mouths and noses and continued doggedly on.
It was impossible to tell how close to dawn it was with the ash so dense in the sky, obscuring any evidence of light, but her watch told her they had a few more hours before the sun began to climb. It shouldn't have mattered, but if there was an honest-to-God vampire roaming around, then she wanted the sun to come up fast.
She cleared her throat. "Gary, if this ash hangs over the rain forest and keeps it dark, will the ... a ..." Saying the word vampire out loud just sounded ludicrous. She definitely could understand Ben's disbelief even in the face of evidence that some form of evil haunted their journey and pushed the porter to murder her mother.
Gary glanced over his shoulder, his expression sober. "I know it's difficult to believe that such things exist. But it's out there and it's a killing machine. It cannot come out in the sun, that much is true about them. They go to ground and place safeguards around their resting places. If this one was locked in a volcano for hundreds of years without blood to sustain it, it has to be one powerful creature."