Dark Blood (Dark #26)(100)
Author: Christine Feehan

Dimitri, covered in hyssop oil, burned the back and fur so that the pain-maddened hound shrieked in fury, snapping at everything in sight, including other hellhounds. Rolling, Dimitri straddled the monster and jammed an arrow into one wicked yellow eye, using the combination of his mixed blood to penetrate to the brain.

Assaulted by the neighboring hound biting repeatedly at it and having a large, heavy man hit between its heads, the two-headed beast lowered its heads, looking malevolently left and right and sank teeth into the two hellhounds beside it. Dimitri managed to jam a second arrow into the eye of the monster he rode. The hound shuddered, took two steps and dropped.

Sandulf got up slowly and faced Dimitri, wiping his hand across his mouth, looking down at the blood smeared on his fingers. He spit contemptuously. He was a brute of a man, much like his uncle, Randall, but where Randall was gentle and kind, Sandulf enjoyed the power of his build. His eyes glittered with rage as he rushed Dimitri.

Dimitri didn’t move, waiting, a matador meeting the rush of bull. At the last possible moment he sidestepped, plunging the silver stake deep, using the momentum of both their attacks to push through the chest wall to penetrate the heart. He whirled around as he drew his sword and severed the head from the shoulders.

Branislava’s dragon rose just enough to get out of the way of the hounds, spun and aimed her tail at the hounds and Sange rau surrounding the others. With a vicious slap, she sent them all tumbling away from Skyler, Tatijana and Ivory. She couldn’t stay and protect them, not with Zev and the Lycans in such trouble. She left them, sending up a prayer that Dimitri, Fen and Razvan could protect them.

Zev continued to shove Lycans out of line, forcing them to go to the back and wait for their turn to walk into the fire. He was hot and sweaty and furious. He couldn’t wake any of them, no matter how hard he tried. It was a difficult and tiring business. Just a few feet from him was Xaviero, his hands moving in an intricate pattern as he faced the fire, feeding it with live fuel in order to perform the task he desired. He was close, yet Zev couldn’t touch him, not with the protective circle around him.

The fire dragon plopped herself down at the edge of the large fire now shooting halfway to the thick fog overhead. Billowing black smoke ran along the ceiling, turning the fog charcoal in color. The dragon lifted her wedge-shaped head and poured a steady stream of fire around the protection circle, lighting the ground so that flames shot up around Xaviero, ringing him. The blaze couldn’t touch him, but it would make him uncomfortable and unable to see what was happening around him. More, it would force him to stop what he was doing, just as she had done while trying to bring down the inverted pentagram, to counter her moves.

She wouldn’t be able to stay long in the fire, preventing the Lycans from throwing themselves into the inferno, so she had to neutralize Xaviero’s spell. She knew Xaviero very well, she had studied him carefully. Even if he’d made a thousand more spells in the intervening years, his style was still the same—arrogant and self-serving.

Zev did his best to turn each of the Lycans away from the fire. They seemed empty bodies, their spirits gone, although he could see the horror in their eyes as they walked into the flames. He’d lost four only, but he’d had to be aggressive, even using his fists to knock them to the ground. Shoving hadn’t been enough with the more determined—or those deep under Xaviero’s command.

Hurry, Branka. They’re moving around to the other side.

He knew she was hurrying, doing her best. She had to be uncomfortable there in the fire, even in her dragon form, but these were real men and women just walking calmly under the High Mage’s command into the conflagration. On some level, they know what they’re doing. Xaviero has removed their free will, but they can see what’s coming and have no way to stop it.

Branislava heard the anguish in his voice. It was like Xaviero to do such a thing. It wasn’t enough for him to sacrifice all the Lycans to his nefarious plan; he had to make certain they suffered emotionally and mentally. She would bet her last dollar they suffered physically as well, they just couldn’t cry out.

Choices have been taken,

No will is left to see,

I call to that which is hidden deep inside of thee.

I call to the fire of passion,

I call to the spirit within,

Break these bonds that bend,

Allowing free will to reign again.

The Lycans returned to themselves with a terrible war cry, spinning around, away from the fire and looking with hatred and anger toward Xaviero. Eight of the warriors peeled off to surround the circle of protection.

No! Zev, you must stop them. They can’t attack him.

Terrified of what the High Mage could do with the angry wolves, twisting their hatred and anger to his purpose, she shifted from her dragon form, leaping away from the flames and running to intercept, her hands already sketching a pattern in the air as she tried to place a holding spell on the Lycan warriors.

Time that is movement,

Root them,

Hold each within their place,

Let all now be frozen so no further harm may take place.

Already it was far too late for the fastest and strongest of the Lycans. Four leapt through the flames surrounding the hated mage and struck the protection barrier. One tried for the back of Xaviero’s neck, hoping to use his wolf to sever the spinal cord. Two others closed in from both sides, and the last chose a frontal attack, going for the throat.

The flames surrounding the protection circle disappeared in a blue puff. Xaviero caught the Lycan coming at him, snapped his neck and threw him casually into the flames several feet away. He smiled at Branislava as he did so, that evil, contemptuous smirk she remembered from long ago. She would never forget the macabre showing of his teeth and his cold, dead eyes that glowed with a kind of glee when he hurt others.

The Lycan leaping at his neck was caught in the air, held prisoner by burning runes and then, casually, with his unholy sneer, the mage reached up, caught the Lycan by the neck and tossed him after the first one into the blaze.

Both Lycans screamed as they caught fire, whirling around trying to put out the flames running over their bodies. As if they’d been coated in an accelerant, the fire burned right through them, as they screamed and wailed, the sound never to be forgotten.

The last two warriors hit the protective circle, and runes leapt over their bodies, running up their legs and hips, to their torsos and around to their backs, climbing higher and higher until they reached their necks. Both men in their Lycan form put clawed hands up to their throats, their eyes going wide, seeming almost to pop out of their heads as they fought for air. It was a slow, cruel strangulation and all who watched were helpless to do anything at all. The two men, as if they were doing a ghoulish ballet fell to the ground in slow motion and lay at the mage’s feet.