"It's still dangerous to us. If it falls into the hands of these so-called scientists, they might figure things out." Raven put a hand on Shea's arm. "I'm sorry, I know your records probably represent years of work, but, really, the work was for yourself, and you have the answers to your questions."
"The work was for all those people who have the same blood disorder as I do."
"It isn't a blood disorder, and they don't need a cure. They're a totally separate species, not human, and they have evolved into a very efficient species. They work hard and contribute much to society, but they would never be accepted by the human race. If you want to do medical research, then research a real problem, like why we can't carry babies to term. Why our babies die. Why our women don't conceive female children. That would be an invaluable service. Believe me, all Carpathians would be eternally grateful. I would be grateful." She put her hands protectively over her stomach. "If I do carry this baby to term, I couldn't bear to lose her after her birth." Raven suddenly sat up straight. "I bet you could do it, Shea—find the answer for all of us. I bet you could."
"Do something Gregori has failed to do after all these years? I doubt it. He seems very thorough to me." Shea was skeptical.
"Gregori was the one who came up with the idea about human psychic women, and I'm certain he's right. You and your mother support his theory. He also thinks there's something in the Carpathian woman's chemistry that makes it nearly impossible for the female chromosome to beat out the male."
"Wouldn't you know he'd think it was the woman," Shea sniffed contemptuously. "More than likely the men determine the sex, just like in humans, and they just can't produce girls." She grinned at Raven. "The men bring about their own destruction."
Raven laughed. "Mikhail would never let me speak to you again if he could hear us. He thinks I'm too independent and disrespectful already." She shrugged carelessly. "It's probably true, but it's a lot of fun. I love the way he gets that pained look on his face. He's so cute."
"Cute? I'll bet he likes that description." Shea got up and restlessly paced the floor. She was feeling uneasy without Jacques' touch and didn't want Raven to notice it. He had withdrawn only a short time ago, yet she felt uncomfortable, more than simply uneasy. She longed for the comfort of his mind touch. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I should destroy these papers. I'd hate to think that disgusting Don Wallace would find a way to use them against anyone. That man is a sociopath. I mean it, Raven, he's truly sick."
Reluctantly Shea began to gather up reams of paper and carry them to the fireplace. Her notebooks she hesitated over. She had collected a tremendous amount of folklore, beautiful stories really, along with scientific data. She hated to lose them. Taking a huge breath, she tossed them into the hearth as well and threw a match in after them.
She had to fight back tears. They seemed to burn her eyes and clog her throat until it was nearly impossible to breathe. And she knew it wasn't just losing the papers; it was Jacques' absence from her mind. She felt utterly alone, desolate. She found it harder and harder to concentrate without his presence.
When had she become so needy?
She hated the feeling of emptiness, barrenness. Where was he? Maybe something had happened to him. Maybe he was dead and had left her completely alone.
"Shea!" Raven said sharply. "Snap out of it. You aren't alone. Nothing is wrong with Jacques. It's amazing his silence is affecting you so severely when you've only been out of contact a short time."
Shea rubbed her arms, suddenly cold. Her stomach was rebelling, and it was still hard to catch her breath. "I guess it's because Jacques never leaves me. He can't take being alone."
Raven's eyes widened. "Never?"
Shea shook her head. "I thought it would drive me crazy at first. Most of the time I didn't recognize it, but he would know things I was thinking, and I would realize he'd been in my mind the entire time. He was alone so long, he needed constant contact with me to keep him sane."
"This must be terrible for him," Raven said. "To break contact with you, he must be in the middle of something big. Mikhail is blocking me out, too, and so is Gregori. But don't you worry, we'll be fine together. And we would still know if something were to happen to them."
Shea powered up the generator so she could turn on her computer. She felt very uneasy, restless, even alarmed. "Raven, you don't feel something is wrong, do you?" She typed in her password and waited for her files to appear on the screen.
"No, but I'm used to touching Mikhail occasionally for reassurance and letting him go. We've been together long enough to develop a kind of routine. I touch him, and whether or not he allows me into his mind, I know he's there. You could try that."
Shea concentrated for a moment on giving the commands to destroy her data. With a sigh she paced back to Raven. "It's not that kind of uneasiness. It's something else. At first I thought it was because I wasn't touching Jacques' mind, but I don't think so anymore. I have the feeling something evil is watching us."
Raven sent her mind seeking, scanning the surrounding woods carefully. There were deer a mile away. The three Carpathian men were even farther afield. "Rabbits, fox, wolves several miles out, but nothing scary that I can detect," she assured her softly.
Shea picked up the shotgun and cracked it open to make certain it was loaded. "I feel almost sick, Raven. Something's out there."
"It's the separation from Jacques. The first time it happened with Mikhail and me, I almost didn't make it through the night. Honestly, Shea, separation is very difficult at the best of times, let alone in the morning hours when we're growing weaker and we know the men are in danger. We may have been human, but we are their lifemates. Naturally we miss their mind touch."
Shea wanted to believe her, but, just as she had felt an evil presence in the forest, she felt they were in danger now. She looked at Raven. This woman was important to all of them. Shea had promised Gregori she would keep Raven safe, and she was not about to be unprepared. "Maybe," she agreed softly. Nevertheless, she walked to the door, opened it, and stepped onto the porch to survey the woods.
Nothing. The rain drove down harder, and in the distance Shea could hear the rumble of thunder. Lightning flashed in the sky. She found herself shivering, and her finger absently sought the trigger on the gun. Annoyed with herself, she went back inside, set the shotgun beneath the window, and worked at controlling herself. Her behavior was unacceptable to her. She could not believe she needed Jacques so much that she would be physically ill and have such an impression of danger because she was without his mind touch. Shea did not want to think it was an illusion, a trick of her mind, yet it seemed the lesser of two evils.
"You're very pale, Shea. You need to feed," Raven said carefully, knowing from her own experience what a touchy subject it could be.
Shea swallowed hard. She was dizzy with weakness. Maybe that was what was wrong; maybe it had nothing to do with Jacques. "I know. I just can't face it yet. I know I have to come to terms with it eventually, but it's still all too new."
"You can't see yourself biting someone's neck, is that it?" Raven laughed softly. "I can't do it either. Yuck. Well…" She blushed, a faint pink stain spreading across her creamy skin. "Mikhail has a way of making it…" She trailed off.
Shea found herself blushing, too. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Jacques seems to have that same way about him." Her hand curled around the stock of the gun again, and she tried to quiet the pounding of her heart. Her mouth was dry with fear.
Shea stole a glance at Raven. She was curled up peacefully, almost serene. Silently Shea cursed. Something was terribly wrong; she knew it deep within her, yet she couldn't explain it adequately to herself or to Raven. "Have you ever tried to leave Mikhail?"
Raven glanced up, startled. A soft smile curved her mouth. "You can't leave your lifemate. One, he knows what you're thinking, and two, he can find you wherever you are. Besides, you can't be away from him for very long—it's too uncomfortable, both physically and mentally. If you left Jacques, what you're feeling right now would not stop, it would only get worse. You can't leave him, Shea. You have to learn how to live with him."
"I know. I don't really want to leave," Shea admitted. She was close to tears. The feeling of dark malevolence was becoming stronger, yet she still couldn't explain it. She felt very mixed up. She wanted Jacques close to her, but this world was so frightening and bizarre. She was completely out of her element.
Raven immediately jumped to her feet and put an arm around Shea, misunderstanding her distress. "He doesn't hurt you, does he?" She was examining the faded bruises and wounds on Shea's neck. "He did this, didn't he?"
Self-consciously, Shea put a hand to her throat to cover the marks. "He didn't mean to. He doesn't always know what he's doing. But he isn't the type of man to abuse a woman. I'm in his mind enough to know that. I'm not a woman who would take it, either," She let the other woman hug her, needing the comfort.
"It's just that I'm afraid all the time. Afraid of everything. That isn't like me at all. And I cry. I never cry." Whatever was stalking them was very close now. She wanted to scream for Jacques.
"You've been through a traumatic time, Shea, and so has your body. You're worn out, and you need sustenance." Raven released her and took a step away. "Gregori is a great healer. I know you think he could be the vampire—it's there in your face when you look at him—but he would give his life for you, for me, for Mikhail. He's a great man. He could help you so much if you'd let him."
"He's the scariest man I've ever met," Shea admitted. "If I had a child, a daughter, I would not want that man to be her husband."
"But then, you don't know that much about lifemates. If my daughter is his lifemate and chooses him—and it will be her choice, despite what my husband and Gregori think—she'd be the safest woman in the world. And once she learned to manage him, the happiest."
"You have more faith than I do."
"That's because I've known them longer. Give yourself some time, and for heaven's sake put that gun down. There's nothing out there," Raven admonished. "You're just nervous because Jacques isn't with you."
Lightning crashed close, and the cabin shuddered beneath a deafening roar of thunder. Raven swung around and paced to a chair. "Something's going on for sure. That's one of ours doing that."
Shea's hand went to her throat. She could not shake the feeling of impending doom. She turned to Raven. "What do you mean, one of ours?" Why had she agreed to stay and protect Raven? Something evil was watching them, and she couldn't ferret it out. Jacques,
where are you?
"The lightning and thunder," Raven replied easily. "One of our males is upset."
"Great. Tantrums, that's all we need," Shea said moodily. Jacques hadn't answered her. Where was he? Couldn't he feel her need?
Raven laughed. "They are great for that, aren't they?"
The door banged open, the wood, so recently repaired, splintering. Shea swung around, instinctively taking a stride to place herself between the entrance and Raven. Framed in the doorway was Don Wallace, a scattergun in his hand, an older man behind him. Shea heard the maniacal laughter of the two men and saw the malice and loathing in their eyes.
Jacques!
She screamed his name even as the orange blossom burst from the muzzle of the gun. The wicked stings hitting her arm and shoulder spun her around, and she reeled into Raven. Raven took the main burst of the gun and was flung backward nearly into the wall. Shea landed in a pool of blood. It was everywhere, beneath her, on Raven's chest and stomach, leaking onto the wooden floor. Raven was still and lifeless, her face white, her pulse nonexistent when Shea tried to find it.
Don Wallace seized her by her hair and dragged her away from the body. He was laughing as he contemptuously kicked Raven's leg out of his way. "I knew I'd get you, Doc. Small world, isn't it?"
Jacques! My God, he's killed Raven! Gregori! I'm sorry, I couldn't save her.
Shea was fighting, kicking and punching, and didn't even realize it until Wallace hit her repeatedly in the face.
"Shut up! Stop that screaming or I'll knock you out." He hit her twice more. "Damn vampires think they're so smart. It was so easy, wasn't it, Uncle Eugene?"
Shea was sobbing uncontrollably, almost immune to the pain of Wallace dragging her by her injured arm. Warmth stirred in her mind.
Shea? We need you to look at the man holding you, look around the room slowly and picture everything exactly the way you see it.
Jacques' voice was calm and unruffled, no hint of rage or anger, simply a cool wind of logic.
We are all three linked and can aid you.
Raven is dead! They shot her!
she cried hysterically in her mind, afraid to move or call further attention to herself, lest she endanger Jacques in some way.
Just do as I tell you, love. Look around the room. Study your enemy and picture every detail in your mind so that we can see him.
Jacques was tranquil, breathing steadily and slowly to help her control her own breathing.
Block out everything else. What they say does not matter. What they do does not matter. Give us the data we need.
Shea took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and tried to do as Jacques had instructed. It was difficult to overcome the horror of Raven's violent death, the loss of the all-important baby. She blocked out the sounds of the malicious laughter, the sexual threats and innuendoes. Wallace was standing over her, one hand twisted in her thick mane of hair, the other hand deliberately digging into the bloody wounds in her arm. She pushed aside the pain of her injuries, the throbbing in her face.
Shea opened her eyes and looked first at Raven's broken body. The blood lay like a thick red pool around her. Her blue-black hair lay across one cheek like a shawl. Shea made herself move on. Her gaze swept the room, settled on Eugene Slovensky. He was kneeling beside Raven, examining her to assure himself she was dead. He stood up, backed away two feet, cleared his throat, and spat at the body. He reached behind him for a canvas bag and yanked it open. Gleefully he seized a thick, pointed stake and held it out for her to see.