Nathaniel cleared his throat, and Nachari pursed his brows. “Continue,” the Master Wizard said, his voice lacking its usual charisma.
Saber made eye contact with Vanya, and the princess nodded.
“At the time,” Saber said, “Salvatore and the other sorcerers spent an enormous amount of time and energy trying to locate our common enemy. Needless to say, we wanted revenge pretty badly. But more so, we wanted to find out where they lived so we could eliminate them once and for all.”
“They live all over the planet,” Nachari said thoughtfully. “Embedded in their Council of Nations; disguised as national headhunters; meeting on occasion with human militia leaders.”
“That’s true,” Saber agreed, “but there’s more to it than that. A lot more to it.”
“Like what?” Marquis asked.
“The sorcerers were able to discover something new, something really odd, something previously unheard of.” He took a deep breath and just put it out there. “Another dimension.”
“Another dimension?” Kagen asked.
“Yes,” Saber replied. “A world apart from our own, the origin of the werewolves.”
The entire room inhaled as one.
“What do you mean?” Nathaniel asked.
Saber looked off into the distance for a moment as if trying to see the right words. “I mean another dimension, a realm parallel to this one, but apart. A place called Mhier.” Before one of the Silivasis could interrupt him again, he explained: “There’s a reason none of us have ever been able to locate anything more than a regional headhunter here or there, a reason why we’ve never been able to ferret out an entire community or civilization of lycans and exterminate them. It’s because they’re not here. Not the majority of them, anyhow. Not in this dimension.” He sat back in his chair, apparently deep in concentration. “The sorcerers said that Mhier was like, I don’t know, a lost civilization from somewhere back in time, complete with salt mines, slaves, and some pretty gnarly animals. And from what I could garner from Salvatore’s entries in the annals, any Dark Ones that had been taken by the Lycanthrope were long dead, and the challenge of trying to get there was a greater risk than it was worth—it was better to just wait for their periodic attacks and fight them here.”
Marquis exhaled slowly then. “Okay, so no one is going to deny this is important information. Very important information. You should be sharing it with Napolean. Why did you come to us?”
Saber scrubbed his face with his hand and swallowed hard. “Because it affects your family more than most.”
Kagen did not like the sound of that…wherever this was going.
Not one bit.
“How so?” he asked, his heart beginning to beat rapidly with a brash, resounding thud.
“Indeed, how so?” Marquis repeated.
Saber closed his eyes briefly. When he reopened them, they were dark with regret and deathly serious. “Because of a small entry I came across, written as no more than a footnote in the text.”
“Well?” Marquis Silivasi bit out impatiently.
Saber met the Ancient Master Warrior’s stare head-on. “It was the name of a vampire, a slave still living in Mhier, at least at the time of Salvatore’s last entry.”
“And?” Nathaniel Silivasi demanded, his voice growing harsh with anticipation.
“And the name was Keitaro Silivasi.”
Nachari released his hold on Deanna and took two steps back, his stunning features flushing absent of color. He ran a rigid hand through his thick, wavy hair, and shook it out in disbelief. The wizard had only been twenty-one years old when their father disappeared; he had barely had a chance to know him.
Nathaniel’s fangs slowly extended in his mouth, and his eyes burned a deep crimson red; yet he said nothing. For centuries, he had believed Keitaro was still alive, and he had searched from one end of the globe to the other before finally giving up and laying the male’s memory to rest.
Marquis sat back in his chair, far too casually.
His piercing eyes dimmed from deep phantom blue to eerie shark black, the depths going vacant with barely concealed anguish and rage, and then he began to tremble.
Uncontrollably.
Kagen sat forward on the edge of his seat, watching Marquis carefully, fully expecting him to plunge over the edge of sanity at any moment: Marquis and Keitaro had been the best of friends, bar none. And their father’s loss had affected Marquis more tragically than any of the others, hardening his heart, changing his personality, molding him into the brutal, impassive male he was today. Kagen couldn’t help but wish Ciopori had come with him, that the other females had found someone else to watch their kids, because by the look on Marquis’s stony face, the male was slipping further and further away by the second, perhaps going somewhere from which he would never return.
To Kagen’s immense surprise, the huge male seemed to simply snap out of it. That is, in a truly creepy, five-faces-of-Eve kind of way. It was almost as if another personality had simply taken over for him, run his emotions through a paper-shredder, and discarded them in a bin on the other side, leaving him free to process the information. “That was almost five centuries ago,” Marquis grumbled in irritation. “Even if he was alive then, he’s unlikely to be alive now. Especially if he was surviving as a…a slave.” He stumbled over the last word despite his self-control.
Vanya took a deep breath then. “I don’t believe that to be true, brother-in-law,” she said. “I have reason to believe he might yet be living.”
“What reason, Princess?” Nachari asked, his tone also carefully controlled.
Vanya swallowed hard. “Before I met Saber, I had a dream about him, a dream that vexed me horribly and would not give me a moment’s peace. I dreamed that there was a fire-breathing dragon in the house of Jadon, and that our paths would cross inexorably. In the dream, he always burned me when I approached him; yet I couldn’t stay away. I simply couldn’t. Because he was guarding something so precious, so valuable to the house of Jadon. A treasure. One that had to be returned to the people.” She sat back and sighed. “Last night, I told Saber about the dream, and it sparked his memory. He believes—and I agree—that the treasure he was guarding was not his own return to the house of Jadon, but his knowledge of that single footnote: that marginalized entry. Your father’s name.”
Whatever…whoever…was guarding Marquis Silivasi’s emotions stepped aside. He shot out of his chair like a rocket, fueled by highly combustible energy, ready to launch to the sky, and roared like an angry lion. “Son of a bitch!”
Nathaniel and Nachari immediately flanked him on either side, both males placing a firm hand on his shoulders. “Settle down, Marquis,” Nathaniel warned, alluding to the powerful impact a male vampire’s emotions had on the earth around them. The last thing they wanted was to trigger an electrical storm or create a flash flood.
“Be calm,” Nachari said, immediately weaving an intricate pattern over the male’s head, no doubt some spell or another to catch his rage.
Kagen stood to face Saber then, his own heart practically beating out of his chest. “Do you know where the portal is, the entrance to this…this other dimension?”
Saber shook his head. “No, I never saw that information.”
Nachari’s expression grew intense. “Perhaps not, but if Salvatore Nistor could divine it with his sorcery, then I can find it using wizardry.”
Saber held up his hands in question. “I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I do know this: If you guys can find the portal, I can draw you a map of the territory.”
one
Dark Moon Vale ~ four weeks later
Kagen Silivasi strolled onto the rooftop terrace of Nachari and Deanna’s lavish brownstone, located at the northern face of the forest cliffs, and smiled warmly at Deanna. “Sister.”
“Hi, Kagen.” Deanna’s rich, bluish-gray eyes brightened. “How are you tonight?”
Kagen shrugged his broad shoulders. There was no point in an
swering—all of the Silivasi brothers were wound as tight as drums, and they had been for the last four weeks, ever since Saber had shared his shocking news with them. He glanced up at the sky, making note of the crystalline stars and the shimmering moon. “Beautiful night,” he commented, trying to find something positive to focus on.
“Very beautiful,” Deanna said. She turned to face Nachari and frowned, the slightest downward curve of her heart-shaped lips. The Master Wizard was sitting at a modern drafting table, beside a series of expensive, intimidating-looking telescopes, scribbling wildly on a piece of paper, his brow furrowed in concentration. “He’s still at it.”
“I see,” Kagen said. He was just about to walk in Nachari’s direction when Deanna took a step back and smiled.
“You cut your hair.” She sounded genuinely pleased with the outcome.
Kagen chuckled lightly. “Yeah, just a little.”
She appraised him thoughtfully. “No, I think it looks great.” She took a step forward to assess it more closely. “Chin length suits you.” She reached out to smooth her hand through a mass of his thick brown locks. “And these subtle layers, the way the waves lie so smoothly away from your face, it’s…stunning, really.”
Kagen placed his hand on his heart. “Stop, sister. You’re going to make me blush.”
She laughed then. “Well, I think it suits you very well. Your natural highlights really bring out your eyes now.”
Kagen averted his eyes. He turned to appraise Nachari and frowned. “Wow, he really is concentrating if he missed that exchange. Otherwise, I would expect to have all six feet, 180 pounds of possessive male all over me about now.”
Deanna rolled her eyes. “Nachari doesn’t get jealous. Not really.” She gave Kagen a knowing glance then. “Not like Marquis or Nathaniel.”
“He is a vampire,” Kagen said, his tone laced with caution. “Don’t ever forget that.”
“Yes,” Deanna agreed, “but a very arrog—self-assured—vampire.”
Kagen smiled. “Well put.”
“Still,” Deanna said, eyeing her mate suspiciously, “perhaps I’ve grown old hat already.”
Kagen shook his head, dismissing the comment offhand, as he eyed the exotically beautiful female appreciatively. There was nothing old hat about Deanna Dubois-Silivasi, and there never would be. “Never,” he reassured her, meaning it emphatically.
Deanna cleared her throat and raised her voice. “I mean your hair is really gorgeous.” She put a strong emphasis on the last word.
Kagen cut his eyes at her and stared at Nachari.
Nothing.
The wizard was still deep in thought.
“In fact, I would have to say it’s sexy as hell,” Deanna added, whistling at her brother for effect.
“Stop it!” Kagen whispered. When Nachari still didn’t look up, he shrugged.
“Ah well,” Deanna said, feigning disappointment. “I suppose I’ll go check on our son then. I imagine Sebastian is still in love with me.” She laughed, making it clear she was only teasing. Despite all the recent turmoil surrounding Keitaro Silivasi, Nachari and Deanna were still like newlyweds, always gazing into each other’s eyes, utterly incapable of keeping their hands to themselves, even in public. They were a match made in the heavens, quite literally.
“Your mate will step away from that desk soon enough,” Kagen said. “Count on it.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink. “In the meantime, I’m going to go see what he’s working on so intently.”
“Please do,” Deanna said. “See if you can’t get him to at least stand up and stretch his legs.”
Kagen nodded. He watched as Deanna headed for the rooftop staircase and made her way back inside the brownstone, and then he took three long strides, sidled up to Nachari, and glanced over the wizard’s shoulder to study his drawings. “So, how’s it—”
“Back off, already!” Nachari snarled, leveling a severe glower at the Master Healer.
Kagen stepped back and threw up both hands. “Whoa, brother. I haven’t even said anything.”
Nachari sighed. “Sorry. It’s going the same way it’s been going. I’m making progress. It’s just slow. Way too slow.”
Kagen eyed the map on the desk, the one Saber Alexiares had drawn for the Silivasi brothers, the one that outlined the territories, tributaries, and passageways of Mhier, the realm of the Lycanthrope; and then he eyed the haphazard drawing Nachari was working on. It was a series of circles drawn with a compass, with one plot-point after another stressed in red ink. There were lines dissecting the circles and arrows connecting the lines. It looked like a frenzied maze. “The warriors are ready,” Kagen said cautiously, referring to Marquis, Nathaniel, and Ramsey Olaru, the three other males who would accompany Kagen and Nachari into Mhier, to begin searching for their father, as soon as Nachari located the portal.
“Yeah, they’ve been ready,” Nachari snapped defensively. The stress of the whole situation was really taking a toll on the otherwise laid-back male.
“I don’t mean mentally, emotionally,” Kagen said. “I mean we have the tents packed, the weapons cleaned and sharpened, the silver ammunition cached in carriers, and the ability to haul it all now. We have enough blood bagged to feed for six months to a vampire if necessary. I mean, everything is finally ready.”
Nachari dropped his pencil and splayed his large hands flat over the page he had been scribbling on. “Everything except the one thing we need: to pinpoint the entrance to Mhier.”
Kagen was just about to reply, to try and say something supportive and encouraging, even though the delay was killing him every bit as much as Nachari, when Braden Bratianu rounded the corner. The boy had just turned sixteen eight days ago, on May 10th, and Kagen could’ve sworn he had grown two inches in the last month alone. He now stood about five-foot-ten, and his once thin, underdeveloped frame was beginning to fill out nicely; his body was adjusting quickly to its ever-evolving vampiric state.
“What’s up, Kagen,” Braden said. Did his voice sound just a little bit deeper?
Kagen took a scrutinizing look at the youngster: His chestnut brown hair, interspersed with occasional blond highlights, had darkened just a bit; and it appeared as if the boy was growing it out, even as Kagen had shortened his. It fell just beyond Braden’s shoulders now, and whether it was the longer hair or the rapid development, his features seemed just a little bit sharper, more masculine. More adult. “Hey, Braden. How have you been, son?”
Braden’s smile was exuberant. “Cool…cool. I’m hanging in there.”
Kagen chuckled beneath his breath. Still Braden.
“Hey, Nachari,” Braden said cautiously, not wanting to disturb him but eager to say something useful.
“What do you need?” Nachari asked. His voice was even, a paternal attempt at exercising patience.
“Um, yeah. I just…” Braden bit his bottom lip and wrinkled up his nose. “I just thought of something that might help.”
Nachari looked up from his work and raised his eyebrows. “What’s that?”
Braden stepped forward and pointed at the cluttered page of dizzying circles and crisscrossed lines, circling a red dot in the middle with his forefinger. “So I was thinking that the nucleus—you know, the center of the map that represents the portal—might not be a place so much as an energy field.”
Nachari sat up straighter. “Meaning?”
“Well, you’ve already defined the coordinates, right?”
“Right,” Nachari said, his voice perking up with interest.
“The north represents—”
“The edge of the valley,” Nachari supplied. “The thick of the Dark Moon Forest.”
“Right,” Braden replied. “And the south represents the winding Snake Creek River.”
“As well as the Dark Moon Lake,” Nachari said, “the element of water.”
“Right,” Braden said, his own voice mounting with enthusiasm. Apparently, they were already on the same page.
“The east
represents the steepest cliffs, and the west represents the meadow and the Red Canyons—”
“A hallow or a void.”
“I’m already with you,” Nachari said, swiveling around in his chair to meet the youngster’s eyes. “But the lines don’t intersect in a way that makes sense. I can’t divine the energy of anything close to a portal at the center of the four points.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Braden took a step closer to the drawing, placed his fingers on the edge of the paper, and raised his brows. “May I?” he asked, sounded far more grown-up than usual.
“Please do.” Nachari leaned back in his chair and waited as Braden lifted the paper off the desk and began to appraise it thoughtfully.
“So, what if it’s not supposed to? What if it’s not a place but an energy?”
“Elaborate,” Nachari said.
Braden sighed. He narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brows, deep in thought. “What if you were to go to the highest point in the northern forest and gather bark from a tree? You know, just to recreate the energy. Then do it again in the south, collect some water from the river and the lake. Then—”
“Take a chunk out of the Red Canyons in the west and some stones from the cliffs in the east,” Nachari supplied.
“Arrange them in a circle where the four lines meet—“
“In the center of the valley…and create our own portal?” Nachari shook his head in wonderment. “It’s not a place but an energy.”
“Maybe,” Braden said, his eager eyes brightening with anticipation.
“It’s worth a shot,” Nachari said, “but there’s still something missing.”
“What’s that?” Kagen interjected, chiming in on the conversation, his own hope beginning to rise.
“The energy of the lycans,” Nachari and Braden answered in unison. Their eyes met and a look of understanding, of mutual pride and admiration, passed between them.
Nachari stood up, appearing all at once to be all business, no nonsense. “Brother, do you remember when Nathaniel eliminated Tristan Hart? Do you know whether or not he kept anything that belonged to the lycan? Before he incinerated his body?”