Tariq Asenguard had come from the United States. Over the centuries he had amassed a huge personal fortune, which he often fed to the other Carpathians. He owned several businesses. Tall, like most Carpathian males, he wore his hair long, but his eyes were midnight blue, almost gemlike. Tariq was a man used to going his own way and the thought of an ancient book in the hands of Razvan and a Malinov was enough to set him traveling fast to see for himself just what the pair was up to.
Andre moved through countries like a ghost, drifting in only to pay his respects and pledge his allegiance. A man of very few words, he stayed aloof, as most ancient hunters did, his eyes restless, the urge to continue moving, the drive to find his lifemate ceaseless now as he neared the end of his tolerance. He was one of the single males Gregori kept a firm eye on, as both Tariq and Andre seemed very close to turning.
Mataias, Lojos and Tomas were never far from one another. Like most siblings raised together, they had formed a bond to see each other through the darker times. They came from a long line of famous warriors, a respected family that always produced multiple children, yet rarely gave birth. Two daughters had been born after the boys, both living no more than their second year. A master vampire had claimed their parents while their mother was pregnant with another set of triplets. The brothers had hunted the vampire across two continents, never ceasing in their pursuit until they had destroyed the undead, exacting justice for their parents and siblings and earning themselves quite a reputation.
Gregori folded his arms across his chest and regarded them all, making certain not to show amusement or exasperation. These men were some of the most respected ancients. They were experienced hunters, every one of them. Yet what they were doing was very foolish and more than a little dangerous and they all should have known better.
“Have you considered that you are following a couple that your prince has promised safe passage to?” he asked, keeping his voice mild and nonjudgmental.
Vikirnoff shrugged, equally casual. “This is an uncertain road. We would be remiss in not guarding the prince’s guests.”
Gregori’s eyebrow rose even higher. “I see. You don’t mind if I just tag along and make certain you’re all safe, right?”
Swift impatience crossed Vikirnoff’s face. “I doubt we’ll need protection, but you’re welcome. Just make certain you mask your presence. I gave both of them blood so I will have no problem following them.”
“That will be interesting. I also gave them blood. Between the two of us, we should have no problem.”
Andre and Tariq exchanged a long look and then peered through the snow. It was coming down faster and faster.
“Is there something about this couple we should know, Gregori?” Tariq asked. He still held a faint European accent beneath the American one.
Gregori shook his head. “I am certain none of you would have come on such a mission without a clear idea of who you are chasing.”
“A woman,” Andre said. “Just a woman and her lifemate. One fairly unskilled.”
Gregori followed the others through the snow. “To be fair, they did encounter a master vampire and saved four humans.”
Andre gestured around him. “They play like children in the forest, while they carry a book of immense importance.”
“Do they now? A book of immense importance?”
Vikirnoff glared at him. “Enough, Gregori. You choose to be amused by this situation, but you did not see the things I did when Natalya recovered that book. It is dangerous. Too dangerous to go unguarded with people we do not know and with enemies closing in around us.”
“Oh, I assure you, Vikirnoff, amusement is not what I am feeling.” Gregori strode away from the man before he cursed him for being bull-headed. He dropped back, allowing the others to take the lead, knowing the seven hunters were underestimating their prey. In fact, chasing the pair into their own territory was probably the worst idea anyone had had in a long while, but he refused to waste his breath.
Nicolae held up his hand and all of them crouched low, spreading out and automatically blurring their bodies to make it much more difficult to see in the thick snowstorm. A slight breeze blew through the trees so that they caught glimpses of figures up ahead in the meadow—many figures. Big. Tall. Short. Stout. Arms stuck out in strange sticklike shapes, the fingers outstretched as if seeking something.
“What is it?” Vikirnoff asked. “That’s not them.”
“Ghouls? An army of ghouls?” Andre suggested.
Gregori rolled his eyes. “I very much doubt it.”
As they stared, trying to peer through the heavy veil of snow, the figures shifted, moving busily around, stooping, shaping, building a low structure.
“A wall?” Tariq whispered.
“It’s going up fast. Too fast to be anything but magic,” Mataias warned. He signaled his brothers and they separated, coming around the meadow from three different points of attack.
The hunters crept closer, using the trees to mask their presence, all senses alert. Whatever was guarding the couple gave off no scent, no spoor whatsoever. It was as if the couple was gone, and the land itself was pristine with snow.
“A fortress,” Lojos hissed in warning.
The attack came swiftly. Missiles whistled through the air, a bombardment, the air heavy with white-capped balls that hit with deadly accuracy, slamming into the Carpathians, the trees, and everything else in the battle zone.
“Acid!”
Tomas hissed in warning.
The men dissolved and burst onto the battlefield, each in front of one of the attacking ghouls, punching through the chest to get at withered hearts, others slicing through necks to take the heads from the vampire’s puppets.
Gregori folded his arms and leaned against the broad trunk of a tree and watched the frenzied, chaotic fight, the battle raging furiously as the ghouls continued hurling the missiles and others continued rapidly building until the structure began to form a roof, now surrounding them on all four sides, confining them within its walls.
“It is a trap,” Tariq warned the others. “Above you.”
The seven Carpathian hunters somersaulted away from their opponents, each trying to study the structure rapidly enclosing them.
Gregori shook his head, rolling his eyes while the minutes ticked by and the ghouls grew more plentiful and the missiles doubled.
Vikirnoff worked his way across the battlefield to his side. “Do you mind helping?”
“I would feel a bit ridiculous fighting snowmen, but you go right ahead,” Gregori said with a small elegant bow toward the ancient hunter.
Vikirnoff looked around, a frown on his face. Everything slowed a bit as he tried to see with all of his senses. The ferocious battle continued, but now the ghouls were white and flaky and suspiciously round in body and head. The arms appeared to be nothing more than branches and old twigs. The missiles were snowballs, splattering against their chests and faces.
Vikirnoff took a breath and let it out. The scene cleared and completely focused. Color swept up his neck and flooded his face.
“I believe you just got spanked,” Gregori said. “And by a girl.”
“
Terád keje
—get scorched, Gregori,” Vikirnoff snapped. “It is an illusion,” he called to the others. “She is good with magic. A delaying tactic only. They know we follow them.”
The fighting slowed and then halted as the hunters slowly realized they’d been duped. Around them, snowmen lay fallen, slashed, heads rolling with grinning faces laughing up at them.
“I cannot believe we fell for this,” Tariq said. “She is better than I gave her credit for. I did not, for one moment, feel a surge of energy.”
The hunters looked at one another. It was Lojos, renowned for being a great warrior, who voiced his appreciation. “Not only was there no surge of energy, the illusion was absolutely seamless. This is no amateur. Even the skill of the snowmen fighting was superb.” If he could have felt admiration it would have been in his voice, but his emotions had long since faded and all he could do was voice his acknowledgment of the expertise.
“Pick up the trail, Vikirnoff,” Mataias said with relentless purpose. “There is not even a faint trace left behind. We will have to use the call of your blood to track them.”
Gregori smirked a bit. “Yes, Vikirnoff. You use that. I am certain you will have no problems finding them.” The snow was coming down so hard that he almost failed to see Vikirnoff’s face, but it was well worth the extra effort to see the hunter’s exasperated expression.
“If your lifemate had been duped repeatedly by someone, you would not be so quick to trust him, Gregori,” Vikirnoff accused.
“Perhaps not, but I would trust my prince.”
Vikirnoff stalked away, leading the group of hunters across the meadow thick with snowmen and back into the forest. The scent was so faint, even with the call of his own blood, as if somehow it had been diluted. Wary of traps now, they had to move much more slowly, spread out in a standard search pattern, all senses alert. There were no tracks, no visible signs of Razvan and Ivory’s passage. Twice Vikirnoff had to back-track and wind his way deeper into the forest where the trees were taller and closer together.
The canopy wove an umbrella overhead, blocking the worst of the snow so that the layers on the ground weren’t quite as deep, although the branches overhead were piled high and every open space had high drifts.
Tariq clawed a spiderweb from his face as they infiltrated the darker recesses of the forest. The webs here were much more abundant, as often happened in less-traveled areas.
“It does not appear they came this way,” he cautioned. “The webs are intact.”
The hunters halted, maintaining at least a five-foot distance between one another. They inspected the numerous spiderwebs that stretched from tree to tree. Sparkling like diamonds from the ice crystals coating the intricate strands, the webs actually draped over many of the trees and stretched between them in labyrinths of artfully connected roadways. They had seen the ice spiders’ elaborate webs before, mostly in caves deep beneath the ground, but once in a while they were treated to the rare sight during a prolonged cold winter.
“These webs have been undisturbed for many weeks,” Andre added, stepping close to one of the larger ones to study the insects trapped there. Even a few hapless lizards and birds had been snared by the strong webs. “I doubt they passed this way.”
“Perhaps as mist?” Mataias suggested. “They might have slipped through.”
“Not an ice spiderweb,” Lojos objected. “Everyone knows you cannot simply slip through.”
“Ice spiders are small, but ferocious,” Tomas reminded. “If you stumble upon a colony in the caves you had better fear for your life. This looks like a colony.”
“Without a doubt,” Nicolae agreed. “If we go into the middle of that, we had better be prepared to burn them out. Even with everything wet, we could destroy this forest.”
Vikirnoff glanced uneasily at Gregori. The healer made no suggestions, he simply stood off to the side and watched them puzzling out the trail. There was no expression on his face, no indication of what he might be thinking.
“Watch out for an ambush,” Nicolae cautioned, “but look around. They had to have come through here. If they found a passage, so can we.”
“Do not disturb the webs,” Vikirnoff cautioned as the hunters began to cast for signs.
The blood spoor was faint, and Vikirnoff was certain the couple had come through the ice spiders’ territory. The webs appeared to encompass several miles of forest, a thick barrier stretching like fences through the trees. If the couple had skirted around rather than going through the colony, it would have taken them much longer, and the blood scent didn’t lead that way. To avoid trouble with the dangerous and very aggressive spiders, they would have had to find a way to go through the area without tearing the webs. The spoor was so faint already, he was afraid if they chose the longer route, they’d lose the couple altogether.
“I believe I’ve figured out what they’ve done.” Lojos said. “They had to have repaired all damage to the webs as they passed through. If they could weave quickly enough and keep each web intact enough not to rouse the ire of the spiders, they might have made it through without a battle.”
Tariq nodded. “That is the only logical explanation. Spread out. No one is good enough to repair an ice spider’s web exactly as the spider weaves it. They will have left signs.”
Vikirnoff sent an elated look toward Gregori, who merely shrugged, which irritated the hunter even more. The seven ancients spread out through the trees, stepping close to the webs, almost pressing their noses against them in an attempt to find any signs of ragged edges where the crystals clung to the silken strands.
Vikirnoff glanced at Nicolae, his frown deepening. “I do not see anything here, but no one passes through the heart of ice spiderwebs. They can go on for miles and it would be far too perilous. Not only is it too dangerous, the caution they would have taken would certainly have slowed them down.”
Looking at his brother, he moved from the outer trees toward the center of the forest. He took a step and his foot sunk about four inches into the snow in spite of making his body light. At once silken strands whipped up and around him, enclosing him in a net that sprang from the ground high into the air, the web tight, without the tiny holes allowing vapor to pass through.
Vikirnoff struggled, but as with all ice spider traps, the web tightened the more he struggled, rolling him until he was trussed up like a turkey. He forced himself to go still, fury eating at his usual calm. He found himself high in the canopy, dangling several hundred feet up in the air. His brother glared back at him from the net where he was wrapped like a mummy and trapped within the silken, crystalline net. Around them the other hunters had met the same fate.
Vikirnoff didn’t dare look at Gregori. “Get us down,” he bit out.
Gregori sighed. “If I move, Vikirnoff, I may step into one of the numerous traps laid out. I have to study the situation first. It will do no good for me to wind up the same way.”