Dark Melody (29 page)

Barack, waiting in the corner with Cullen in his arms, watched as the assassins repeatedly shot into the bed. None of them saw Barack – he had cloaked his presence – but they could feel the unusual coldness permeating the room. One of the society members moved forward to check the body, and as the others watched, Barack slipped past them. He heard their shouts of consternation and angry frustration that they had been so easily tricked, and once again Cullen had escaped their vengeance.

Hurrying down the long hall away from the assassins, Barack called out to warn Darius of the plot.
'They are here,'
he communicated simply. With Darius, there was no need for embellishing. Darius protected his own, and he considered Cullen part of their extended family. Darius would come in all haste and bring justice to the assassins.

There was no need for Barack to inform Syndil of what was happening since he was always a shadow in her mind. He was well aware of her taking control of Lisa and shielding both of them from prying eyes as they made their way out of the hospital. Syndil put Lisa in a hypnotic trance in order to transport her in the fastest way possible, through the air, just as Barack was doing with Cullen. The two humans would be taken to a safe house deep within the mountains where they could be more adequately guarded.

Corinne sat in her bed regarding Dayan steadily. The healers were chanting softly, she could hear them in her mind. The atmosphere was soothing, tranquil even, but she was on the verge of a discovery. What was it she was thinking? That Dayan wasn't human? Not of this world? What, then? An alien being? She shoved at the hair tumbling around her face as she studied Dayan's mesmerizing features. Did it matter so very much one way or the other? How had they taken her to a cave deep within the earth and performed an exotic healing ritual that had actually worked? Was all of it real, or only parts of it? She pushed the idea of a blood exchange out of her mind.

She laced her fingers through his. "Tell me, Dayan, the truth about all of you. I need to know. What are you?"

The healing chant stopped abruptly at her softly spoken words. Desari glanced at Darius. "Perhaps we can return at a more convenient time to check on you, Corinne," Desari offered gently. She smiled sweetly at the healer. "Gregori, would it be an inconvenience to return at a more suitable time?"

Gregori lifted an eyebrow at his sister. Aloud he sighed. "I think it would be best. We will return later."

Darius cautioned Dayan silently.
'Be very careful, Dayan. She must not be upset in any way. Gregori will monitor her heart from a distance, and I will watch over the infant. She has need of answers, and I believe she is more receptive than you give her credit for.'

Corinne watched as the three Carpathians left the room and quietly closed the door behind them, leaving her alone with Dayan. He stood up abruptly, restlessly.

She looked up at him with her large, clear eyes. "I think it is time for you to talk to me about what and who you are. Start at the beginning. Where are your parents?"

"They are dead – murdered, as your mother was," he answered starkly. Dayan paced restlessly across the room, swept a hand through his long hair, leaving it disheveled in the wake of his marauding fingers. He suddenly reached down and caught up his beloved guitar, holding it close to his body like a talisman.

Corinne smiled to herself. His guitar. She was beginning to notice that he needed it in his arms when he was nervous, and he was nervous now. He was adept at asking her questions and invading her mind to get to know her, but he didn't like that same spotlight turned back on him. She had never seen him so nervous. "Dayan." She said his name softly, gently, and patted the bed beside her. "You look like a caged leopard in a zoo, pacing back and forth." She didn't add that he reminded her of a little boy clutching his favorite blanket. "Is it so bad to trust me with the truth?"

He looked down at her, his black eyes brooding and moody. "What happens if you cannot accept me as I am? What happens if I frighten you with the truth and your heart fails you?"

"Do you think I'm that weak, Dayan?" she asked gently. "My body is fragile – I've learned to accept that – but
I'm
not a weak person. I never have been." She held out her hand to him. "Stop pacing and sit by me."

Dayan stood for a long moment, his guitar across his chest, his eyes reflecting inner turmoil. Slowly, reluctantly, he crossed the room to sit carefully on the bed beside her. He enveloped her small hand with his larger one. "My heart could not take your rejection, honey. Not for one moment. Be very sure that you want to have this conversation now."

"I am certain, Dayan. You think your feelings for me are very strong. Well, I have loved before. John." She said her husband's name and silently watched Dayan's involuntary wince. "Don't feel that way about him, Dayan. He was a remarkable man and deserved far better than a woman who didn't love him the way he should have been loved. I know how strong my feelings for you already are. I tried to tell myself the attraction was purely sexual, but I think about you – your expressions, the way you smile, the turn of your head. Everything. Even the silly things like how you can be childish sometimes. I find myself thinking it's an endearing trait. That's not due entirely to chemistry."

He sighed. "I am not going to ask what is childishly endearing."

She smiled at him. "No, you're not. You're going to tell me about your childhood. About yourself, so I get to know you."

He brought her fingers to his mouth, wanting – no
needing
– the reassurance of being close to her. "I grew up with Darius, Desari, Barack, Syndil and another called Savon. We were alone as children, with no adult to guide us. It was Darius who took responsibility for us. He was six years old and already showing signs of great power and strength of will. It was Darius who took most of the risks for us."

His teeth were nibbling anxiously at her fingertips, but he seemed unaware of it. Corinne regarded him steadily. "How did a group of children like that slip through social services? How did you all manage to eat and sleep?"

"We were separated from our people and were believed to have been murdered along with our parents. There was a shipwreck, and we ended up in Africa. That is where we grew up. Our band travels with leopards; we raised them. We actually learned quite a bit from animals. It was a difficult time but also very rewarding."

Corinne's small teeth scraped at her lower lip. She believed him, although it seemed impossible that six children could survive in Africa alone. The continent was wild and untamed. Something in her recognized the truth in his simple explanation, yet she knew there was much more he wasn't telling her.

"Dayan," she said softly, bringing his dark gaze to hers. "You either trust me or you don't. You have to make up your mind."

"What if I tell you I am not human?" He said it quietly, his teeth biting harder at her knuckles. "What if I told you my parents had died during the Turk wars? Would that frighten you away from me?"

Corinne's heart accelerated for a moment, and she was glad for the diversion, happy to be able to concentrate on slowing it down, giving herself time to think. She had suspected there was something not quite human about Dayan, but to hear him confirm it was something else altogether.
The Turk wars? What did that make him?

"I would hope I'm not that big a coward. Are you something other than what you've shown me? Because the man I'm attracted to is gentle and caring and unbelievably wonderful." She was feeling her way, trying to encourage him and yet give herself the time she needed to assimilate the information he was giving her.

He looked away from her, unable to face her condemnation. "I want to be gentle and caring, Corinne, but in truth I am a predator," he said regretfully. "You are all that is good and right within me."

Corinne shook her head in denial. "You're so much more than a predator, whatever that means, Dayan. You're a poet without equal. The words that pour out of your soul, the incomparable music you make – that is who you are. The other is a part of your nature, perhaps, but only a small part. You couldn't say the things you say, the beautiful words you give to me, without feeling them deep within you."

He opened her hand, studied her lifeline for a moment before pressing a kiss into the center of her palm. "I felt so many things in my youth, so much music, it seemed I
was
music. I heard it everywhere, in the earth and sky, the trees, the animals. I heard it and knew it was my world. Slowly it faded away. It was terrifying to realize I was going to lose it, so I wrote songs, hundreds of songs, thousands of songs, pouring out the notes and words and committing them to memory. Over the years those memories were what I relied on to get me through the darkness. I didn't feel the words or music anymore, but I had the memories to sustain me. I could touch others who felt the joy of love and laughter and draw upon their emotions to create what I needed."

He studied her face, his black gaze drifting over her possessively, lovingly, with so much hunger and need she could feel her body melting under his scrutiny. "You cannot possibly understand until you are able to merge your mind fully with mine. I knew utter bleakness, a black, empty void. Without my music, without my soul, I wandered the earth not understanding what I was, not willing to accept what I was. What I am."

She touched his face with gentle ringers. "What you are is a man with exceptional gifts, Dayan. The things you are talking about I see occasional glimpses of – I won't pretend I don't – but that is not who you are."

His perfectly chiseled lips curved into a beguiling smile, and he deliberately drew her finger into the moist cavern of his mouth. "You think I am an alien being from another planet." There was teasing laughter in his voice.

Corinne found herself grinning at him sheepishly. "It could happen."

"I am Carpathian. We are as old as time, doomed to wander the earth until we make the choice to give up our lives. Our males are dark, deadly predators; the beast lies strong within us, ever growing until such time as we find our lifemates to anchor us in the world of light."

Corinne knew he was telling her something of great importance, but she truly didn't understand him. "I have never heard the term
Carpathian.
If I still remember my geography, there is a range of mountains, the Carpathian Mountains in Romania and Transylvania…" She trailed off as the significance of that region hit her. She remembered vividly the strange twist her dream in the cave had taken. She was silent for a moment, gathering her courage. "Did you give me your blood?" she asked very quietly, unsure whether she wanted him to answer her.

"Are you certain you want the truth?"

She shrugged her shoulders, a delicately feminine motion. "I want the truth, Dayan, though I'm not certain I can take it. I wasn't dreaming in that cave, was I? It all happened just as I remember it. All those people were there to help you save my life. And you gave me your blood. Why? What did that do for me?" She tried to be very analytical about it, afraid that if she dwelled too long on the subject, she would be sick. She swallowed hard. "Why did you feel it was necessary?"

"To save your life and the life of the baby." Dayan watched her expressive face carefully, was a shadow in her mind monitoring her thoughts. He listened to her heart and breathing for signs of extreme stress.

Corinne sat very still, allowed her heart to follow the stronger, steadier beat of his. She nodded, not fully comprehending but knowing she was getting closer to the truth. If his blood could save her daughter, then it was worth everything to her. She gathered her courage, watched his face intently. "Are you a vampire, Dayan?" She felt somewhat ridiculous asking such an absurd question, but she had never seen him in the daylight hours. Also, he was
too
mesmerizing. And if her strange dream had been a reality, he had given his blood to her in a rather unorthodox manner.

Dayan wanted to smile at her thoughts. Corinne was struggling to understand, heading in the right direction, while at the same time totally disbelieving her own wisdom. He liked the idea that she found him
too
anything. He was also aware that she had banished the actual picture of receiving his blood from her mind.

The pad of his thumb rubbed gently, soothingly, along her inner wrist. "Not a vampire, honey, but we share some of the same traits. A vampire is the undead, a Carpathian male who has chosen to give up his soul for the momentary pleasure of feeling the power of the kill. He is deceitful, treacherous and depraved. Wholly evil. Carpathians hunt down and destroy vampires. It is necessary for the preservation of mortals and immortals alike."

She stared at him with enormous moss-green eyes. Her mind went from racing to perfectly blank. She just stared at him. Carefully she cleared her throat, stalling for time. He believed every word he was saying. Either Dayan was telling the absolute truth or he was totally insane. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "Obviously, I don't know what to say." Her voice was neutral.

Dayan leaned down to brush the top of her silky head with his mouth. "You are not crazy, honey, and neither am I. Think about it. What can you hear that you should not be able to hear?"

Corinne continued to gaze at him, looking very young and vulnerable. Her face was pale, almost ashen, and it was becoming difficult for her to breathe. Automatically Dayan did it for her, taking over the job, directing her lungs to push air in and out. "By giving me your blood, did you make me like you?" Her voice was low, a mere thread of sound.

Dayan circled her slender shoulders with his arm. "We do not need to have this talk right now, my love. If you are not feeling up to it, I will remove your memories and we will try again at a later date."

Her eyebrows shot up. "You can do that? Remove my memories?" Suddenly she glared at him. "Have you done that?"

He shrugged casually, without remorse. "Partially. I made them hazy so you would not be frightened, but left them accessible should you ever wish to put the pieces of the puzzle together."