flooded in. As they approached the small farm, the air lost its crisp, fresh scent and began to feel and smell foul. Vampire. His hissed the word.
Tell me what it feels like to you. Reach out very lightly. Let your mind expand to encompass his but do not enter his.
Razvan knew that if his touch was too heavy the vampire would feel his presence and be alerted. If his victim still lived, there would be no hope. The undead would kill and consume as much blood as possible to ready himself for an attack.
Vampires like their blood adrenaline-laced, Ivory explained. They terrify the victims on purpose and keep them alive as long as possible. The blood is like a drug to them and they need the high continually. Can you feel the chaos in his mind?
He could. The vampire's mind raced so fast it was like trying to board a runaway train. Even the sound was chaotic, as if the volume was turned up and down so that one moment noises roared and shrieked and then receded, only to start again.
He cannot keep the sound of the victim's heart under control. He is too excited. This one has recently turned. I doubt if he had time to have been recruited by the league of vampires or by Xavier. Usually at this stage they are left alone because they are too dangerous to approach. They cannot handle the highs they feel.
Ivory circled the house. Two children inside. The vampire knows it, although the man tries to hide the information. His woman is in the barn. She thinks to fight for her man. She has armed herself with garlic, crosses and holy water, but has no real weapon other than farm tools.
There was admiration in Ivory's voice. Razvan liked that about her. Her take on the world was very simplistic. A man and a woman fought together for their family, even against the worst kind of evil. Both knew they probably would die, but they hoped to take their attacker with them and give their children a chance to survive.
His first thought was to send Ivory to get the woman and her children to safety while he took on the vampire. He had no doubt that he could kill a vampire. He had a rudimentary knowledge of how to slay them, but she would have a better chance to save the farmer as well. He needed time to perfect his fighting skills, so he remained silent and left it to Ivory to tell him what she wanted to do.
I would not do what you told me to do anyway. There was a distinctly teasing note in Ivory's voice, although they both knew she was perfectly serious.
Deep inside, in spite of the gravity of the situation, Razvan found himself happy. Little moments like this, shared amusement, things he'd forgotten existed between people, made up joy in life. He'd forgotten that, and he bet Ivory had as well.
You are a bossy little thing, but I like that. I must be a little strange.
A little? She gave a snort and slipped into the barn through a crack in the window frame.
A woman frantically searched through several farming tools, dragging anything with a sharp blade out to a center pile. Tears ran down her face, but she worked fast, her breath coming in soft sobs.
"Shh," Ivory cautioned as she materialized to one side of the woman. "I am a Carpathian warrior come to aid you. Please put down your weapon and do exactly as I tell you. You will have to trust me."
Razvan instinctively stayed in the form of vapor, knowing his presence would only serve to frighten the woman further.
"With your help, I think we have a chance of saving your husband."
Ivory's voice was quiet and calm. She looked regal, a snow princess come out of the world of nature in her long silver wolf coat, so thick and luxurious falling to her ankles. Her hair cascaded in a long blue-black fall and her face looked serene and innocent. Her voice sounded like warm, melting honey. In contrast, she carried a lethal-looking crossbow and the belt at her hip was covered in weapons. But it was the double rows of tiny crosses embedded in her buckles that eased the woman's tensions.
The farmwife made the sign of the cross in the air. Ivory answered her with the same sign and the woman relaxed and tossed her curved scythe onto the pile of tools.
CHAPTER 8
Ivory walked