intense over the past three weeks. Ivory crouched below the snow-covered slope, raising herself just enough to study the forest beneath her. She couldn't see anything, but the wind had shifted enough on its own to bring her the scent of blood and death. Along with that scent came the soft sobbing of a child.
She had been careful to feed far from her lair, but then her travels had taken her closer to the Carpathian world where Mikhail Dubrinsky, the prince of the Carpathian people, and his legendary guard, Gregori, made their homes. There seemed to be far more Carpathians than the last time she'd been this close. That meant, when she hunted for food enough to feed her pack, she had to avoid not only vampires, Xavier and his servants, but the hunters as well.
She knew the vampires and Xavier searched for Razvan. They had visited the cabin where she'd fed from the human in the forest, but, thankfully, the human had been long gone. The stench of vampire remained in the cabin, and fortunately the vampires were unable to track her. They found the spot where Razvan had fallen. Footprints circled the area and the foul stench of vampire radiated from that central spot for days before they'd moved on.
She'd made certain neither she nor her pack set foot on the ground close to her lair after that. She'd even resorted to visiting the village to bring rich blood back to feed Razvan, barely rousing him, healing him each night and keeping his mind free of the damaging images and memories that haunted and tormented him. If, after he was at full strength and fully healed, he chose to meet the dawn, she vowed to herself that she wouldn't stop him a second time. But night after night, holding him in her arms and singing the healing chant, her blood flowing into him, she knew it would be difficult to let him go. She would though. She would set him free, with no guilt, because saving him had been her choice. Staying to help her defeat Xavier had to be his.
The child's cry drew her attention back to the forest below her. Why hadn't an adult answered that distress call? What kind of parents would leave a young one to the dangers of a snow-covered wood at night? Even the villagers crossed themselves, hung garlic and crosses in the windows and over doors, believing in the persistent rumors of the undead walking the night.
She sank back on her heels. She didn't do children. She hadn't even held a baby, not once in her entire life cycle. She couldn't remember interacting with children when she was younger-before-in the before. If a child saw her in her true form, especially a Carpathian child used to the perfection of form, the child might run from her.
She touched her neck. In this form, she never gave a vampire the satisfaction of seeing her scars. The vampires and Xavier had done their worst to her, but she remained flawless, untouched, unmarred by their barbarity. If nothing else, it gave her a psychological boost to know they were so shocked by her beautiful appearance.
The child's voice crescendoed and Ivory winced. She was going to have to at least check that the little thing wasn't injured, but that meant exposing herself when she was certain there were both vampires and hunters in the vicinity. She took a deep breath and shrugged, allowing her pack to merge with her skin in the form of tattoos. They would watch her back, and could draw more information from the wind than even she could. With six pairs of intelligent eyes and six noses gathering every detail around them, she felt more secure.
Let us get this done. And when we find the child, no scaring it. We will take it back to its mother and be done with this.
The pack didn't seem anymore enthusiastic than she was. She hadn't let them run free for some time, knowing the vampires often searched out the wolf packs, hoping to find evidence to track them back to her lair. Soon, she assured.
She dissolved into vapor and streaked over the snow, staying low to the ground, giving the wolves every opportunity to take in every scent.
Foul ones. Humans. Carpathians. Blood. The walking dead.
Ivory processed the information and directions as fast as the wolves fed it to her. Foul ones was the wolf name for vampires. But the walking dead were puppets-nonpsychic humans given