Dark Lycan (Dark #24)(11)
Author: Christine Feehan

Gellert peered up at him with red, runny eyes. He burped loudly, the smell wafting toward Fen like a green cloud. "Sorry man. Didn’t know. Come on, Enre, let’s get on home."

A sound broke the night. Chilling. Close. Too close. The howl of the werewolf on the hunt. Enre, the more sober of the two, shivered and looked around warily. That joyful, frightening note floated on the wind, full and round-bodied, different from that of a normal wolf, far more unnerving.

"We have to go now," Fen urged, gripping Gellert on one side while Enre took his other arm. "Tatijana, leave us now while you can. Defending against a pack, even for one such as you, is not easy."

She lifted her chin, but her eyes stared out into the night. Like Fen, her senses had reached out far beyond the immediate area in an effort to locate the pack individuals-something he knew would be impossible. "I will not leave you to this fight alone. They won’t be of any help." She indicated the two men with a jerk of her chin, still not looking at them.

"Do either of you have a weapon?" Fen hissed. He glanced toward Tatijana. They weren’t going to make it out of there without a fight. Depending on the pack size, they could be in real trouble.

Above them, a large owl landed in the branches of the neighboring tree. He folded his wings for a moment, surveying the small group below him. A burst of mist rose around the tree and out of it, a man emerged. He strode toward Fen, tall, his shoulders broad, and his eyes every bit as piercing, intelligent and ice-cold blue as Fen’s. Hair as black as midnight flowed down his back, and he moved with a smooth, fluid step.

Fen stepped forward and they clasped forearms in the centuries-old greeting of warriors.

"Kolasz arwa-arvoval-may you die with honor," the tall warrior greeted. "I would not want to miss such a battle with you, ekam-my brother."

"Kolasz arwa-arvoval-may you die with honor, Dimitri, ekam-my brother," Fen said. "You are most welcome to this battle."

Chapter 3

"We fight together then," Fen agreed. He held out his hand to Tatijana. "This is my lifemate, who remains unclaimed and quite happy about it. Tatijana, my brother, Dimitri."

Dimitri’s gaze, glacier-cold, swept over her. "You are Dragonseeker."

Tatijana’s answering nod was regal. Fen hid his grin in spite of the graveness of the situation. She looked like a royal princess.

"Have you ever battled the werewolf?" he asked Tatijana, already certain of the answer. She’d given him enough of her history to know she had no practical experience.

Tatijana made a face at him. "Of course not. I’ve been locked in ice my entire life, but I can help. Just tell me what to do."

"They mask energy easily. You will not feel the attack before it is on you. They move as fast as Carpathians and they cannot be killed without a special silver stake or bullet. Heads are removed and bodies burned."

Tatijana nodded solemnly, taking him seriously.

"Dimitri, remember our war games. Fight as if you are fighting the Sange rau."

"That makes it difficult without special silver stakes," Dimitri pointed out a little drolly.

"I always carry a few weapons," Fen admitted. "One has to, when rogues are in the vicinity." He reached into the pockets of his jacket and pulled out several very small stakes. They were made of pure silver, shaped like a unicorn horn, a gleaming spiral worth a fortune.

"How do you kill them?" Tatijana asked.

"You must penetrate all the way through the heart with silver," he warned her. "Unfortunately, they will be close enough to bite you and they tear chunks of flesh, going for arteries. They’ll try to gut you with their claws. Again, they’re fast."

"I flew over the forest and counted thirteen. There may have been more, they were difficult to spot," Dimitri said. "We can’t abandon the humans, but we could fly them out of here."

"Rogue werewolves will kill everyone they come across. They’re worse than vampires because they hunt in packs," Fen said. "Tatijana, perhaps you should fly the two humans out of here."

"I will not leave you. I can fight, better than you know. There were a few Lycans brought into the ice caves. I learned their strengths and weaknesses and I’ve looked into your mind as well. With what you told me, I know I can do this."

"They’re close," Fen said.

"How can you tell?" Dimitri turned in a circle. "I cannot feel them."

"I can smell them. Get Enre and Gellert into the tree and throw a shield around them," Fen instructed.

Zev, from the tavern, strode out of the mist and brush. He looked cool, and confident, his long trench coat open, his hair gathered at the nape of his neck, much like Dimitri and Fen wore theirs. His eyes blazed a mercurial gray, sheer steel. He looked around the small circle of fighters.

"You cannot stay here."

"There’s no safe passage," Fen said. "Carpathians will fight with Lycans to bring this rogue pack to justice." He nodded toward his brother. "This is Dimitri, and that is Tatijana."

"Zev," the newcomer identified himself. "This pack is my problem. I’ve sent for the hunters, but they are still twenty-four hours out."

Dimitri waved his hand toward the two drunks to take over their minds, spinning his fingers to encase them in the safety of a shield before wedging them in the higher branches of the trees.

Zev studied Fen’s face. "Dimitri and Tatijana are Carpathian, but you are Lycan." It was a statement, the tone strictly neutral.

There was no hint of distrust in Zev’s voice, but Fen knew Zev was suddenly very suspicious of him. Why would a Lycan be friends with two Carpathians? There was no way not to notice the resemblance between Dimitri and Fen. Zev was an elite investigator, which meant he had gone from an elite hunting pack to pursuing rogues on his own for the shadowy government behind the Lycans. He seemed more than confident.

"Have you any idea of the size of the pack?" Fen asked.

Zev nodded. "It’s large. The largest I’ve ever run across. I’ve been tracking them for months."

"Dimitri counted thirteen, and that was just with a single pass."

"It’s more like fifty to seventy. I’ve identified that many individual tracks, and I’m not certain that’s all of them. They tend to divide, each unit hunting separately and then coming back together."

"That’s why they’ve been able to do so much damage," Fen said.

Zev shot him a quick glance. "You’ve been tracking them?"

Fen nodded. He wasn’t about to admit that he thought Zev was wrong, or at least partially wrong. He was fairly certain the rogue pack killed often, but a vampire either trailed them, doing far more of the brutal destruction than the pack had done, or traveled with them as a Lycan. The vampire was intelligent. He covered his tracks well, making certain the pack took the blame for his work. Of course, that was conjecture, Fen had no real proof.