Dark Lycan (Dark #24)(45)
Author: Christine Feehan

The third cattle dog shifted fast. The Carpathian known simply as Andre was as elusive as a legend could get, moving fast, a shadow only, streaking through the air and literally ripping the wolf from Traian’s back. He didn’t slow down at all, moving continuously, his sword flashing in the early dawn’s light, wreaking havoc with the number of werewolves attacking.

Andre’s swordsmanship was superb. He’d fought in centuries past and the sword felt right at home in his hand. He seemed to flow, his feet smooth and sure. The blade gleamed bright red, blood dripping onto the ground and spraying through the air as he calmly cut through the raging wolves.

Traian and Nicolae followed in his wake, slamming silver stakes into hearts as Andre cut the rogues down. The three made short work of the werewolves who had attempted to attack the cattle. Costin Eliade and his cattle were safe on a neighboring farm, leaving the Carpathians to build their trap for the rogues.

It took a few moments to realize they had successfully destroyed the twelve werewolves bent on killing the livestock. Both Traian and Nicolae were surprised at the lacerations and chunks of flesh missing from their bodies. Blood streamed down their chest, necks and backs. Nicolae had slash marks across his belly. Andre had bite marks on his legs, but other than that, he’d remained unscathed.

Traian grinned at Nicolae. "What did we learn from this?"

"That Andre needs to give us both sword lessons," Nicolae acknowledged. "We had to do all the grunt work and look at us. Next time, I want to be the one dancing with the sword while you two do mop up."

Stop congratulating yourselves and get over here. We could use a little help. Gregori used the common Carpathian telepathic communication, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Traian, undaunted, flashed another quick grin and winked at Nicolae. "We also learned werewolves fall for illusion and we had the advantage here."

Nicolae, Andre and Traian moved quickly across the field to go to the aid of the other Carpathians just as a second wave of werewolves leapt over rooftops to drop down on the warriors fighting off the rogues.

I don’t like this, Fen said uneasily to Tatijana. Get into the air and see if you can find who is coordinating their attack. They have to have a leader directing them. This is too organized.

He fought his way toward Gregori. He’d dealt with rogue packs throughout the centuries and none were this large. He’d never seen a single pack this large.

How many dead? he asked Andre.

Twelve. Andre’s answer was short and clipped. I have come across smaller packs of rogues, but none this size and none this well organized.

Just the fact that Andre added anything at all to his statement further alarmed Fenris. Andre conveyed tension in his terse sentence. Like Fen, he realized something was definitely not right about the attack. It was too well orchestrated, especially that second wave of werewolves sent to join their brethren.

Tatijana immediately took a running start and leapt into the air. As she did so, a werewolf launched himself from the horse shelter rooftop and swatted her out of the sky. Her body tumbled toward the ground, the rogue catching her around her rib cage between his teeth. Fen leapt to meet him, driving his silver sword through the werewolf’s gut. As the rogue opened his mouth in a gasp, Fen yanked Tatijana to him, streaking upward to avoid hitting the ground. The werewolf hit hard, rolled and came to his feet howling, holding his ripped belly with one hand while his red eyes tracked Fen and Tatijana.

Drops of bright blood fell to the ground, almost on top of the wolf. Tatijana clamped her hand over the bite marks. She could feel Fen’s building rage that she had been bitten. He was anxiously trying to examine her as he went airborne.

I’m all right, Fen, she assured. They’re so fast and they jump so high, it’s hard to judge a safe distance from them.

I can feel your pain. Don’t tell me an untruth, Tatijana, I need to know how you are.

It hurts like hell, but nothing’s broken. I thought for a moment he was going to snap my ribs like twigs, but you were on him so fast.

I am Sange rau. Faster than they are. His voice was grim.

Even as he replied, telling her the strict truth, she felt the warmth of healing energy slipping into the wounds on her rib cage. There was instant relief. Thank you.

Always.

The Carpathians were seeing for the first time the damage a rogue pack could have on them. When they realized just how difficult it would be to destroy the Sange rau, they might change their minds about allowing such a mixture of blood to live. It was tantamount to having a nuclear weapon aimed at one’s head.

Fen reversed his direction and this time aimed for the ground, moving like a speeding bullet straight toward the werewolf he’d knocked from the sky. The wolf leapt to meet him. At the last moment, Fen pushed Tatijana back skyward, giving her the opportunity to shift into her dragon as he met the wolf head-on. He was moving so fast, a mere streak in the sky, that when he hit the rogue, he nearly went through the body. His fist shot through the chest wall, the silver stake he held in it slamming through the heart so that the wolf was dead before both ever hit the ground.

You play rough. Gregori had observed the encounter in spite of fighting off the latest wave of attackers. His voice was thoughtful. Wary.

Now they begin to understand, Fen said to Tatijana. He will be more concerned that I keep my distance from his prince.

Tatijana sighed. Our prince. Don’t pretend you would not guard him with your life. I am in your heart and soul, remember, wolf man? I see what you are doing. You want Gregori and the others to realize what they’re up against. Mere words are not enough. They have to see for themselves.

No one Carpathian hunter will ever be able to defeat the Sange rau alone, Fen told her. Only if a miracle occurred. The combination of Lycan and Carpathian abilities is lethal. The Lycans know it, because they have seen thousands of their kind killed, nearly wiping out their species, by only one or two of these monsters. The Carpathians have not faced them, and their arrogance will get them all killed-and possibly their prince if they don’t process the information fast. Even now, they can’t fathom an enemy like the Sange rau.

Gregori, the prince’s primary guardian, would be the first to grasp the enormity of what they were up against. His natural instincts already made him suspicious and wary of Fen. Fen didn’t blame him any more than he could blame Zev, who was the Gregori of the Lycans. He was directly responsible for the welfare of the council and it was his duty to keep the Lycan people safe no matter what part of the world they resided in.

Rough is the only way with werewolves. You can’t ever underestimate them, Fen answered Gregori.

This pack is well organized. Too well organized.