Dark Peril Page 0,44

to Zacarias. We grew up with him. He is a master at battle.

New emotions were difficult to control; he had been friends with Demyan. They had traveled for a time together, battling the enemy, slaying any vampires they came across. Sorrow welled up, intense, shaking him for a moment. The Tiranul family had been famous as master swordsmen, and he was certain Demyan would never give up his love of the blade. The undead inclined his head.

"I see you are in disguise and these imbeciles did not recognize you." The voice was mesmerizing. Pitched low.

Dominic had forgotten the power in that ensnaring voice. He shifted his features, hiding every scar so that he looked as Demyan remembered him. Dominic knew he had been a handsome man by any standards, long before he had been burned in the fight to save the prince. He allowed his long black hair to flow neatly down his back in a ponytail, tied with the thin leather cord, always a weapon should one need it.

"Much better. Dominic Dragonseeker." Dominic inclined his head regally. "These . . ." He swept his hand in a contemptuous circle to indicate the vampires surrounding him. He didn't bother to look at the offenders, his gesture and tone said it all. "Interrupted my evening."

"Silly of them. But then, you didn't allow them to know who you truly are."

Dominic shrugged. "I do not find my identity necessary to intimidate ones such as these."

Drago snarled, but subsided when Demyan shot him a cold glare. "I have not heard the news that a Dragonseeker has joined our ranks--and it would be huge news--yet your blood calls to mine."

Dominic sent him an enigmatic smile. "I can walk among the Carpathians without fear of their suspicion. It is useful, although tedious at times. This one"--he indicated Zacarias, with an indolent gesture--"recognized my intentions before I could slay him." He inhaled deeply, drawing the tantalizing scent of powerful blood into his lungs, and sent Zacarias a smirk, allowing, just for a few seconds, his eyes to glow ruby red as he turned back to Demyan. "His blood is . . . powerful."

For a moment Demyan lost his composure, the lure of the ancient blood a temptation beyond his control. The skin stretched and frayed, and then split in places, revealing masses of writhing worms. His lips thinned, drew back to reveal his pointed teeth, hideous blackened needles set in a sunken gaping mouth. The skull caved in, the bones sticking through flesh, as warped and twisted as the blackened heart. The master vampire sniffed the air, a dog on the hunt, desperate for the rich, powerful blood of the ancient.

The lesser vampires reacted, salivating, hissing, moving closer to Zacarias. Dominic lifted his hands toward the sky and they immediately subsided.

"You do not understand," Demyan said, his voice raspy now, but he managed to regain his composure, his illusion of beauty settling over him. "This one must be taken to the laboratory. You can use him as often as you want for sustenance, but you cannot kill him."

Dominic slowly allowed his hands to drop once more to his sides, as if the master vampire was lulling him with his voice. "I can use him here without sharing him," Dominic pointed out. He glided one small step closer to Demyan, Zacarias moving with him so that the action was so subtle those around them missed it.

"He is the most hated enemy of our leaders. They will reward all of us greatly for his capture."

"You mean I am the most feared." For the first time Zacarias spoke, a whip of contempt. "He fears me, they all do." He paused. "As they should." Demyan hissed. "You are fodder for the five. You will be made to crawl before them."

Zacarias's eyes were very black. "I believe they are no longer five. A couple of them sought and found justice."

"You think to mock them? To taunt them? You will suffer greatly before they allow you death."

Zacarias spread his arms out. "They have sent many after me, century after century I have been hunted, yet I still live."

"I am the one who fooled Zacarias." Dominic declared ownership. "No one else."

"A Dragonseeker." Zacarias spat his disgust. "You have no right to use that title. You dishonor it. Te kalma, te jama ikval, te apit?sz arwa-arvo--You are nothing but a walking maggot-infected corpse, without honor." He inclined his head regally toward Dominic. "I know you seek the justice you deserve, and once these worms you