The vampire crashed through what remained of the barrier surrounding MaryAnn, shredding Manolito's safeguards. The creature's talons were extended in an effort to reach Manolito's body as it sat on the deck high in the canopy. The werewolf met the undead in midair, the two slamming together, the wolf driving the
vampire backward with the force of her forward momentum. Like a child protecting a cub, she slashed relentlessly at the vampire as they fell together.
They dropped toward the forest floor, the wolf on top of the undead, the two writhing forms breaking branches as the vampire hit bough after bough with his back as they fell one hundred and fifty feet. All around them the jungle came alive with the noise of the battle, the shriek of hundreds of birds, the cries of the monkeys, the growls of the vampire and the crack of splintering wood as they plummeted the distance.
The vampire clamped his spikes of teeth into the wolf's shoulder and tore, savaging with talons, raking at the wolf's belly. MaryAnn felt the talons digging deep; she could even hear the sound of flesh and fur being torn from the wolf. Her stomach lurched, but the wolf knocked the head aside, tearing the teeth from her shoulder, ignoring the blossoming pain as flesh shredded and blood spattered across the leaves.
The vampire hit the ground, half-formed, trying to dissolve out from under the wolf, but MaryAnn's guardian was relentless, teeth driving for the throat, claws digging through the chest wall for the withered, blackened heart. It was instinctive, an age-old legacy passed in collective memory from one generation to the next. Deep inside where nothing could touch her, MaryAnn vowed never to go anywhere without her pepper spray. The wolf could have blinded the vampire with it and at least given herself a reprieve from those terrible teeth.
She landed on top of the vampire, and they rolled, the vampire hissing, its breath fetid. The creature reeked of decaying flesh, offending the wolf's acute sense of smell. The vampire grabbed the wolf and threw it, taking the opportunity to dissolve into vapor and stream upward toward the deck on the canopy.
MaryAnn's heart crashed against her chest. She heard herself screaming, tried to reach, tried to take over the body so she could get to Manolito, but the wolf was already in motion, leaping up the tree branches with incredible speed, springing for the vampire as he reformed beside Manolito's body. This time the wolf caught the vampire's head in her claws and wrenched. The vampire's neck snapped and the head flopped to one side. Growling, eyes glowing with hot rage, the creature lowered his shoulder and drove the wolf backward, once again taking them over the edge of the railing.
MaryAnn felt herself falling, felt the slam of branches against her back, but all the while the wolf was in control, muzzle burrowing toward the prize of the undead's heart. Blood coated the wolf's body, burning like acid, searing bone-deep, but the guardian refused to stop. In desperation, the vampire threw himself off the wolf, and both landed hard on the ground.
Riordan De La Cruz materialized out of the air, just as the vampire lurched to his feet. Riordan slammed his fist deep into the chest of the vampire and ripped out the heart. Tossing it to one side, he whirled to face the wolf. The guardian staggered as she managed to stand, shaking with the pain and trauma of her injuries.
Riordan lifted an eyebrow. "MaryAnn?"
The wolf nodded and reached behind her for support, leaning against a tree. She nodded toward the heart as it rolled toward the vampire's body.
"Yes, of course," Riordan reached toward the sky, covering his shock. At once storm clouds boiled and thunder rolled. Lightning veined the darker clouds and then slammed into the heart and incinerated it. Next he directed the white-hot energy toward the vampire's body.
To MaryAnn's astonishment, her wolf leaned into the crackling energy stream. Rather than incinerating her, the energy dissolved the acid-laced blood from her arms and body. Staggering back, the guardian once more leaned against the tangled roots of a tree, her sides heaving, breath coming in ragged gasps. Pain burned through her body, but she had kept Manolito alive. She couldn't wait another moment to check on him. To touch him. She needed him desperately.
Leaping to the lower branches of the tall tree, she climbed her way to the deck. Manolito was still sitting, his body a little slumped to one side, but he looked as if he were resting. She let out her breath and sank down beside him.
MaryAnn reached for her body, thanking the sentinel, grateful for the aid it had provided. She could never have defeated the vampire in her more fragile human body. It gave her a sense of gratitude to the other species who shared the world with her, thankful that they cared enough to keep everyone as safe as possible. The wolf made her feel safe.
You are the wolf, the feminine voice inside assured her.
MaryAnn closed her eyes and expanded, drawing the guardian deeper into her soul. This time the process was much faster, as the wolf leapt for its den and she emerged, with much more ease than she had let go. Her body reshaped with a minimum of distress, although the moment she was in her human form, the pain of her wounds escalated until tears burned and she bit down hard on her lip to keep from moaning.
"I have destroyed the jaguar and mage as well, and cleaned up the mess the vampire's blood caused in the soil and on the trees and foliage, so I am coming up."
MaryAnn didn't understand the warning in Riordan's voice for a moment, until she looked down at her body. She needed clothes. She had no clothes. Panic rose. Her clothes were her armor. Her courage. Her fashion sense got her through everything. She couldn't face him without clothes on. She actually began to hyperventilate.
"No! You can't come up here. I'm not dressed."
He muttered something in his impatient tone, and she found herself in a faded plaid shirt, loose-fitting jeans and very old sneakers. Then he was standing in front of her, frowning.
"I am going to have to heal your wound. I will need to take a look at it. Vampires have been leaving little parasites behind lately when they bite."
She barely heard him, too busy staring down at her clothes in dismay. "I know you don't think I'm going to be wearing these-these..." She trailed off, her fingertips holding the hem of the shirt out while she looked up at him, appalled.
His frown deepened to a scowl. "Those are called clothes."
"Oh, no they're not. Rags maybe." She patted her tight braid to make certain it was still intact. She might be fighting vampires and jaguars, but she was going to look good doing it. "These are not clothes." Moving her arm, when her shoulder was already on fire, had her wincing visibly. Of course he saw it. He was far more interested in the vampire bite than her fashion problem.
Riordan crouched down to examine his brother. "Juliette never worries about her clothes. She just wears whatever."
"I'm well aware that girl needs a serious makeover," MaryAnn said. In more ways than one. Juliette also needed a few counseling sessions on dealing with overbearing men.
Riordan glanced up at her, and his smile made her breath catch in her lungs. For just one moment, in that sliver of moonlight, he had looked like his brother. The flash was there and then it was gone, and her desperation to be with Manolito grew.
Riordan straightened slowly, as the smile faded from MaryAnn's face. "You did well. I owe you a tremendous debt. Our entire family does, MaryAnn. Thank you for saving my brother's life."
The sincerity in his voice was her undoing. If she'd been wearing her best clothes, she could have handled it all with dignity, but no, he had to put her in some horrible, wretched outfit and she just crumpled under the pressure. She heard herself blubber. He looked alarmed and even took a step back, holding up one hand.
"Don't cry. That was a compliment. Don't start crying. Your shoulder must be hurting. Let me take a look at it."
"It's the clothes." She hiccupped. "Change them fast."
"Give me a picture, then."
He sounded as desperate as she felt. She could not stand here sobbing like a baby when Manolito was facing that other world and whatever lay within it. She had to get to him. For some reason, just the thought of that spirit place gave her chills. She took a deep breath and pictured herself wearing her favorite Versace jeans, Dolce &, Gabbana tobacco-colored, jersey halter top with gold leather straps and draped neckline that lay artfully over her breasts, and her favorite boots, the Michael Kors, simply because they were so stylish and comfortable and went with everything. Accessories were everything, so she went all the way and added the braided belt and chunky bracelet and necklace she'd always wanted but couldn't afford.
She took a deep breath and let it out as soon as the clothes settled onto her skin, fitting her like a glove, providing her with her suit of courage to face the next challenge. "Thanks, Riordan. This is perfect."
She expected him to give her his little sneer, but instead he studied her appearance with care. "You do look wonderful. I thought you looked fine in the other clothes, but these suit you somehow."
She smiled, feeling a little camaraderie with him for the first time. "Thanks for getting here so fast. I didn't know what to do with that thing. He just kept coming at me." She shook her head, frowning. "Well. Not me. My guardian."
"The wolf."
He said it with respect, and her heart lightened even more. MaryAnn realized what that meant. She was the wolf. It dwelled in her, silent and waiting, emerging when needed, content to stay quiet unless compelled to action. She was the sentinel, and the animals around her recognized the guardian in her for what it was. And they respected her. Riordan respected her. But more, they accepted her for who and what she was.
"You are Manolito's lifemate," Riordan said. "And you more than meet every expectation." He bowed low, a courtly gesture of respect. "He could not have found better. You keep many secrets, little sister."
She felt the grin spread across her face; she couldn't help it. "The wolf? She comes out upon occasion and kicks serious butt." She felt so proud saying it, so matter-of-factly. The wolf. Her wolf.
"I had no idea there were any lycans left in this world. Now I think they are far cleverer than any of us gave them credit for. Of course they still exist, and we should have known that. They were always content to stay in the background."
She leaned against the railing, swaying a little. "I was hoping when they got hurt they could just heal themselves the way you do. And I would have liked the ability to produce clothes with my imagination. There are a few lines I can't afford, but I sure can imagine myself wearing them."
He caught her arm to steady her, lowering her until she was sitting beside Manolito once again. "I have good news for you, MaryAnn. Manolito is quite wealthy, and you will be able to afford whatever line of clothing you prefer. It is good to keep the illusion of being entirely human at all times, but if you need, once fully Carpathian, you will be able to manufacture clothing at will."
Her heart jumped when he said that. Fully Carpathian. She still had to deal with that. And she wanted to be with Manolito De La Cruz forever. He was going to drive her insane with his arrogance, and he was going to have to learn what it was like living with a woman who was every bit as stubborn as he.
"Do you understand what that means?" Riordan asked.
"Not really. How could I?" Whatever he was doing to her shoulder was taking her breath away. It hurt like hell, and she was really glad she could stare down at her perfect boots and admire the square toe and really nice leather.
"You will be wholly Carpathian. Juliette was upset to lose her jaguar. She can call her cat, shifting into the shape and feel of it, but it is not the same. She doesn't feel a sense of loss, but I know it was difficult when she first thought of it as a loss."
"Really? I'm more concerned with losing my family. My grandparents and parents are very important to me. I don't much care for the idea of watching my friends and family die."
Riordan didn't know that her blood was infecting Manolito with the wolf, just as his blood was giving her the traits of Carpathians. Her fingers slid into the long, thick hair of her lifemate. She tasted the word and the depth of its meaning. He was hers. As much as she belonged to him, he belonged to her. Whatever was happening to her was also happening to him. What would Riordan have to say about that? How accepting would he be then?
She rubbed at her pounding temples. "Did you hear anything?" She looked around her, raised her face and sniffed the air. How often had she done that and never realized why? How often had she reached into people's minds without being aware she was doing so to extract the information she needed in order to help them? And the animals... She looked around her at the monkeys in the trees. They had all come to her aid when she needed them. Even the jaguar, under the enthrallment of the vampire; had fought to break the spell and do her bidding.
"The wolf is good," she said with satisfaction.
"Of course. What did you think?"
"Monster with teeth tearing apart the screaming teen with his claws and devouring the entire family while the littlest one looks on from the closet vowing to kill the hairy beast someday."
Riordan snorted, his brief smile of amusement fading as fast as it had appeared. "It can happen. There are a few who go rogue, but the wolf society, in the past, and I suspect now, always did a good job of policing their own kind. They live as humans, at least they used to prefer that, usually near the forest or jungle, or they took jobs with animals to help protect them. They rarely revealed themselves unless there was extreme danger to someone under their protection. Their numbers were dwindling even before ours. They were too spread out, the packs not close enough to interbreed, and we suspected they tried to breed with humans but weren't successful and eventually their species died out."
"Why would you think that their blood wouldn't convert a human?"
"We didn't think Carpathian blood could successfully convert a human. Juliette thinks that over the years, more humans than we realized had blood of the other species in them as well, maybe not much, but still, genetically they are probably linked."
"But you think the wolf blood isn't as strong as the Carpathian blood and that Manolito will convert me with no problem?"
She felt more than saw Riordan's hesitation. "I know he must convert you or he will not survive."
"That's not what I asked you." She pulled away from him so she could see his eyes. "What are you afraid of?"
"I do not know what will happen when he converts you," Riordan answered honestly as he reached one more time to examine the bite mark. The area was burned from the blood and saliva, as well as raw and torn. She was shaking, but didn't seem to realize it. Her fingers bunched in Manolito's hair as if he was her anchor, but she didn't seem aware of that either. "When I converted Juliette, the jaguar fought hard for life."
"Manolito converted Luiz."
"Luiz was dying. It was the only chance the jaguar had of survival. A small part of him lives, just as a small part of Juliette's jaguar lives within her, but it isn't the same, and although they can take the shape of a jaguar, they are not the jaguar. Does that make sense?"
Her heart jumped. She liked her wolf. She was proud of it. And somehow, although she'd only just found out about it, the guardian had been there all along, shaping her life, helping her without her knowledge. She didn't want to be anything else. She thought of herself as human. Maybe Juliette was right and most humans did have a genetic connection to some of the other species, but whatever the reason, she liked who she was, was comfortable in her own skin, and she didn't want to change, not if it meant letting go of who she was. What she was. Not if she had to let go of her newly found wolf.
But could she give up Manolito? Let him die? Let him turn vampire? "He can't turn vampire when he knows he has a lifemate, can he? If I don't become what you are?" Her heart thudded in time to the pounding in her head. She wasn't certain which hurt worse, her head or her shoulder. The vampire wound burned clear to her bone.
She suddenly needed to touch Manolito's mind. To merge with him. She fought the urge, knowing he didn't want her to come into the shadow land with him, but it was difficult when she needed his touch so much. She almost couldn't breathe, laboring to find a way to draw the air into her lungs. Was it her? Or was it him? Was he in trouble?
"Of course he could go mad with need. It is worse to know one's lifemate is there and one still cannot be saved. He will do what is necessary, MaryAnn, and in the end, you will be glad that he did."
She hurt everywhere now, her back and legs and arms, as if someone had beaten her. "I need him." She admitted it and should have been ashamed, but all she could think about was getting to him.
Riordan frowned. Tiny pinpoints of blood dotted her forehead. It was unlike MaryAnn to let a statement like he had made go without rebuttal, and she never would have admitted her need of Manolito to him. Something was very wrong. He had to make certain the tainted blood wasn't spreading through her system like poison. "Just relax. I am going to heal you in the way of our people."
She took a breath and leaned closer to Manolito, needing the warmth of his touch, the feel of him close to her, but he felt cold, lifeless, his spirit a great distance from his physical body. "I have to go to him."
"Breathe. Let me do this. He would want me to." Riordan kept his voice as soothing as possible. MaryAnn had had too much to contend with in the last few days. She looked worn out, and by tomorrow night, when they next arose, in spite of what he would do here, she was going to feel the effects of crashing through branches to the ground.
He took a breath and released his body, allowing his physical self to drop away so he could become the necessary healing light of energy. He entered her body to survey the damage. The vampire had purposely infected her blood. He had not ripped and torn big chunks of flesh away; rather he had punctured deep with his razor-sharp teeth, using a sawing motion to inject thousands of tiny parasites into her bloodstream. Why? Why not try for a kill? The wolf was unexpected, but that should have pushed the vampire to defend himself with even more vigor.
The vampire had gone for the most damage he could inflict, rather than for a kill. The jugular was left intact. He had raked and torn at the wolf's belly, bit the shoulder, but not a single wound was a kill target. No vampire had that kind of control during a life-and-death battle-not unless he was programmed. And who could manipulate a vampire, even a lesser vampire, when his life was at stake? By nature, vampires were selfish and cunning. Riordan observed the parasites teaming in MaryAnn's bloodstream with dismay.
He entered his own body. "This may take a little while. Are you feeling sick?" He hadn't detected poison, so the vampire hadn't injected a lethal chemical into her.
"It can't take too long. We have to help Manolito."
He studied her face. Aside from looking so weary, she didn't appear to be alarmed, so she didn't know. He would bet his life the wolf did. "Rest," he advised, more for the wolf than for her. Because the wolf was going to be needed later; he was certain of that.
MaryAnn closed her eyes and leaned her head against Manolito's shoulder. Riordan stood over her, shedding his body so that he could fight the battle against the parasites the vampire had left behind.
Manolito stared in shock at Draven Dubrinsky. The man was long dead. Why hadn't Vlad warned him that his son resided in the meadow of mists and shadows? Draven, like his father and Mikhail, was a vessel for the power of the Carpathian people. He would know the exact tone, the exact path, mind-to-mind, even of lifemates.
Manolito's heart jumped, his belly knotted, but he kept his pulse steady and strong, his features expressionless. His first thought was to warn MaryAnn. To do that, he would have to merge with her. Would that pull her into the world enough that Maxim would be able to grab her?
He let his breath out slowly, keeping his mind away from MaryAnn, blocking her out so that if Draven touched his mind, he wouldn't be able to find her, or even a hint of a path to her. She wasn't Carpathian. Draven couldn't automatically search her out as he might a full-blooded Carpathian female.
He refused to look at the son of Dubrinsky, choosing to keep the battle between him and Maxim. He knew the Malinovs, and he was more than willing to match wits if that was what it took to keep the Carpathians safe. "You cannot drag, her into this world through me. Not with the likes of him."
"Do not be so sure of yourself, Manolito. That was always your downfall. You and all your brothers." Bitter contempt curled in Maxim's voice. "How do you think your woman will fair against one of our most powerful?" His laughter was soft and mocking. "I do not think so well."
Manolito frowned as the rain forest closed in around him. He saw MaryAnn sitting beside his physical body, knees drawn up, one hand twisted in his hair. There was blood on her shoulder and down the front of her. Her shirt was torn. He couldn't see her face, bur she seemed to trust the man standing so close to her. Riordan. His brother. Bending close to examine the wounds.
He should have looked protective, but there was a furtive, cunning quality about him as he stood over her, like predator over prey. He turned his head and smiled at Manolito. Riordan's face blurred and became that of Kirja, one of Maxim's brothers.
Manolito's heart nearly stopped. He held himself still, afraid of moving, of triggering the attack on MaryAnn. Everything in him told him to reach for her, to warn her...
Maxim leaned close. "Humans are so easily fooled."
Manolito closed his eyes as relief swept through him. "I do not think so. And as I recall, my brother Rafael ripped Kirja's heart from his body and sent him to the deepest pits of whatever hell is waiting for the likes of him." A human might not sense the danger, but the wolf would. A guardian would have sprung forth instantly had a vampire been attacking MaryAnn.
"I hope you are certain."
With that, Kirja knocked MaryAnn aside and, in one quick motion, slit Manolito's throat where he sat so helplessly. MaryAnn cried out and tried to crawl away, but the vampire dragged her back by her ankles, flipping her over and ripping the clothes from her body. He kicked her ribs viciously and then bent down to punch her relentlessly in the face. She rolled away, and he grabbed her by her hair and dragged her over to Manolito, holding her there while he forced her to watch him lapping at the blood pulsing from her lifemate's throat.
Manolito discovered there were far worse things than physical torture. He told himself it wasn't really MaryAnn, but his eyes and brain refused to believe him. He told himself Kirja was long dead and gone from the living world, but the blood and screams were all too real. He shuddered as Kirja continued to beat her. He felt his stomach rebel when the vampire committed further perversions on her, every atrocity Maxim could think of, and he could think of many.
Manolito had no way to stop the images, so he tried to shut down his emotions. There was no way. In this land, he was meant to feel emotions-they all were-and the emotions were amplified a thousand times. He knew now how the undead could drive a spirit mad. He couldn't compartmentalize; he had to feel every blow, every sick, disgusting thing MaryAnn had to endure. His lungs burned for air. His hands trembled. He curled his fingers into a fist to... what? They had no bodies. This was a mind game. They were waiting for him to break. The hope was that he would merge with MaryAnn to check on her, to ease his own suffering.
He shook his head. "I will never let you have her, Maxim, no matter what you do to me. No matter what you show to me."
Kirja plunged his fist into MaryAnn's chest and pulled out her heart, holding it high in the air while she screamed. Manolito's body jerked, but he stood impassive. If his fate was to endure the next centuries feeling her pain and watching her torture, he would do so. They could not have her. It may have been only minutes, or hours-time meant little in this place-but it seemed lifetimes, centuries, watching the other half of his soul being forced to endure whatever Kirja, Maxim or Draven conceived. The sound of MaryAnn's pleas and screams, the images of her torture were burned forever into his heart, his mind and even deeper into his soul.
"He cannot love her to stand there like that," Draven said. "Any man would break if he saw his true lifemate so brutally handled."
Manolito looked through him. Draven Dubrinsky would never know what love was. Manolito knew. He felt it in every blow of Kirja's hand, every kick of his feet, every touch on MaryAnn's body. An illusion. All illusion.
He forced a smile when he could feel blood running down his body in rivers of sweat. That, too, was an illusion. "A game, Maxim, that is all. You play games with me and you know I will never break. You know me So keep it up if you must, but it seems childish, even for you."
Maxim snarled, showing his pegs for teeth, and waved the illusion away.
"Acknowledge me," Draven snarled, already furious that the Carpathian male wouldn't look at him.
"I have no wish to speak with you, see you or in any way render you real," he said, watching Maxim more than Draven. Vlad's son had power, but it was Maxim who had the cunning and the hatred enough to return to destroy the Carpathian people.
"I find it-distasteful-Maxim, that you would choose to spend time with one such as this. He caused the death of our beloved sister. You may have embraced him, but I do not wish to spend time with him. Do not think I fear one such as this reject from the Dubrinskv lineage. Long ago I would have welcomed the chance to take his life. It would have been nothing against the loss of one such as Ivory, but still, I would have welcomed it, as you should have, Maxim."
He kept his gaze fixed firmly on Maxim, his tone dripping with contempt.
Maxim growled, spittle running down his chin as he swung his head from side to side in a threatening manner. "Do not use that condescending attitude with me. Your disloyalty proved long ago whose side you were on."
For the first time, Manolito allowed a whip of anger to seep into his voice, and he lashed Maxim with it. "Do not dare use the term disloyal when your sister's murderer stands at your side. You have sunk lower than I thought possible, becoming the dog for this foul abomination. Crawl on your knees to him, Maxim, like those who seek your approval. Lick his boots if you must. I have no further business with you, not when this..." Deliberately he waved his hand toward Draven. "This... piece of garbage is your master."
"I am royalty," Draven snapped. "You should be on your knees to me."
Manolito didn't bother to spare him a glance. He kept his gaze locked with Maxim's as he conjured up a picture in his mind of Ivory. For him, she was as fresh and as pure as the last time he'd seen her, her memory such a part of him it would never fade. He sent it along the path of their blood bond. Ivory with her laughter and her bright soul shining. Ivory flinging her arms around Maxim and kissing his cheek. Ivory standing outside the Malinov home, sword in hand, blindfolded in the middle of the circle of her five brothers and the De La Cruz brothers as they taught her to fight.
Stop it! Maxim screamed, pressing his fingers to his eye sockets.
Manolito projected the loving memories as relentlessly as Maxim had tormented him with MaryAnn's torture. Ivory as a young child riding on Maxim's shoulders. Her first time in the air with her brothers surrounding her, keeping her safe, Ruslan always beneath her, Maxim and Kirja on either side, while Vadim and Sergey prowled the air in front and behind. Her laughter. The moon illuminating her brightness as she raced down the stairs to greet them when they returned from battle.
Stop it. I beg you. Stop it.
Because in the meadow of shadows and mists, the ghosts could feel every emotion. Hatred. Bitterness. Sorrow. Regret. They were meant to feel it like the lash of the whip, driving home their destructive path. It was why Manolito so acutely felt the emotions pouring into him, even when he knew the scene of MaryAnn's torture was illusion. He was meant to feel what he had not all those long centuries.
Maxim had no choice but to feel the love for his sister. Emotions poured into his mind with every memory. He covered his face with his hands and fell to his knees.
"You stand with the man who would have done those very things to her that you wanted done to my lifemate. Should I show you what was in Draven's mind? The perversions he would have inflicted upon Ivory?"
Manolito would never have been able to do such a thing, but he knew Maxim would conjure them up in his own mind. He would know that he stood shoulder to shoulder with the one who had ultimately taken Ivory from them. He planned evil with the one who would have committed the ultimate betrayal of her.
"No. I cannot think of her."
There were so many memories. Manolito felt the tears in his own heart. Ivory. He had loved her as a sister. She had brightened all their lives with her generous spirit and compassionate nature.
"You have done what you intended, Manolito."
They all whirled around to face the couple who had come up so quietly behind them. Vlad and Sarantha stood hand in hand.
"You should not be here," Manolito said. He glanced at Draven, at the snicker on his face, and wanted to smash something. Vlad and his lifemate deserved so much more from a son. "This is my mess, and I will find a way to clean it up." He wanted to spare them the pain of facing the monster Draven had been. Somehow, he knew Ivory would have wanted that rather than revenge.
"You have destroyed their plans and managed to bring Maxim to the realization of what he has done. He will not aid his brothers," Vlad said. "Your time here is over. I have yet to do my duty and then ours will be, too."
Manolito looked down at his hands. They were no longer transparent. He closed his fingers into a tight fist and then opened his hand once again.
"We stand with you always," Manolito said, knowing Vlad would understand he meant every De La Cruz.
"You and your brothers have been loyal to our people," Vlad said." I trust that you will aid the jaguars as best you can, and give that same loyalty I have always counted on to my sons."
Sarantha stepped close to him and touched the scars. "You saved Mikhail's life. And you saved our son, Jacques, by stepping in front of Shea and taking the poisoned knife. You also saved our unborn grandson. I thank you. It is not enough, but it is all I have to give."
Vlad gripped his forearms. "Go now. Leave this place. You do not belong here anymore. Let me take care of the business I should have centuries ago. Live large and well, old friend."
Manolito stepped away. He felt himself reaching for MaryAnn. For his brothers. For life. He stopped for a moment to observe Vlad and Sarantha face their son.
"You have had many years here, Draven, and we have stood by you, but no longer. Even here, when you are
given the chance to redeem yourself, you refuse. We accept your decision. Go now, from this place to the next."
"No! You cannot. I am your son." For the first time, the smirk was gone from Draven's face. He threw himself at his mother, wrapping his arms around her legs. "Do not let him condemn me. He cannot send me away."
"We condemn you, as we should have so many years ago, Draven," Sarantha said, conviction in her voice. "Go now. Perhaps in the next place you will learn far more than we could ever teach you."
Draven screamed as black smoke curled around him, pouring from his body to surround him. Shadows moved along the ground, skittered over the trees. The vines pushed up from the earth, long, tangled barbs on the seeking tentacles. The vampires stood mesmerized, some with smiles, others with nervous scowls, but all frozen as Draven tried to run.
The vines reared back, coiled like snakes, and then lashed out, circling Draven's ankles. They yanked hard, and he fell into a nest of greedy claws reaching out of the ground for him. One moment he was there, wrapped in the barbs, his mouth opened wide in a now-silent scream, the next he was gone, swallowed by a black hole.
There was silence. Sarantha dropped her head on Vlad's shoulder. He held her close, protectively, sheltering her against his larger body. Manolito could feel the pull of his own world drawing him, and he went, eager to get back to his own lifemate, to hold her in his arms and shelter her the way Vlad had Sarantha throughout their centuries together. When he glanced back, all he could see of them was blazing light, and then that, too, was gone and he was back in his own body.
MaryAnn gasped and threw her arms around him, fitting neatly, perfectly, into his frame. He smiled over her head at Riordan. "Thank you," he said simply. And meant it.