Dark Secret - Feehan Christine (смотреть онлайн бесплатно книга .TXT) 📗
The hunters shifted into Carpathian form to study the design of the thick web. It looked silky and fragile, a delicate work of art, yet Rafael felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise in warning.
"Have you seen this before?" Vikirnoff asked, keeping a wary eye on the harmless-looking spider.
Rafael inched closer, bending to look at the fibers. They appeared that of a normal web, yet there were no holes, no lacy effect. The design was solid and tight. He looked at the small spider to identify the species. It stared back at him. The bubble eyes blinked and Rafael found himself staring into the eyes of evil, of intelligence. Kirja stared back at him, venomous hatred and malevolence roiling in the depths of his glare.
Rafael leapt away from the web, dragging Vikirnoff with him as the tiny spider burst into a thousand spiders, all springing at them with poisonous fangs. Rafael incinerated the arachnids quickly, but not before quite a few of them managed to sink their poisonous fangs into his and Vikirnoff's arms and legs. The tiny bites left bloody swollen sores, seeping with venom, burning through flesh and tissue.
"He definitely knows we are hunting him," Rafael said as he pushed the poison out through the pores of his body. Beside him, Vikirnoff did the same. "Every step we take is going to be dangerous. Not only is he good at illusion, but he is a master of mutating a species." He scorched the last remaining spiders.
Vikirnoff nodded grimly. "In all my centuries of battling the undead, I have never faced a vampire this powerful. I think he is strong enough to kill us both if we come at him one at a time."
"Unfortunately, I think you are right," Rafael agreed.
They began to follow the tunnel as it slanted downward, taking them deeper beneath the ground. They tested each step with caution, all senses alert to impending danger. The beams were rotted and split above their heads. The large timbers supporting the ceiling beams also showed dangerous signs of age. An old track lay half buried along the ground. A collection of dusty, forgotten tools lay scattered across the ground.
"Why do I feel as if we are entering the devil's lair?" Rafael asked. He pitched his voice low.
"Because we are," Vikirnoff answered. "What is that noise?"
Rafael glanced at the ancient hunter. "It sounds like miners."
They rounded the corner and saw a dozen men working with pickaxes on the walls of the shaft. Several lanterns hung from the overhead beam, casting a dim yellow light over the workers below. As Vikirnoff and Rafael watched, two men manipulated a heavy, ore-filled car into place on the rickety rails. No one seemed to notice the presence of the two Carpathians.
The two hunters looked at one another. "It has to be an illusion," Vikirnoff said.
None of the miners turned at the sound of his voice. The men continued to work industriously, the sound of the picks hitting rock ringing through the shaft.
"They are wearing modern clothes," Rafael pointed out. He studied the scene in front of them, looking for the hidden trap he knew had to be there.
"It could be he is slowing us down, making the point we cannot trust our own senses."
"How did he set them in motion?" Rafael wanted to know. "If his illusion can tear into the rock, it can just as easily tear into us."
The pickaxes continued to ring out against the rock in a steady rhythm. Vikirnoff tapped his hand against his leg, following the pattern. "Do you hear that? Maybe something in the beat?"
Rafael crouched down, studying the scene from every angle. "Could be. He is tricking more than one sense. Sight, smell, hearing. He has done a superb job." There was admiration in his voice. "Look at the ground. There are no footprints in the dirt. They do not leave any evidence of their existence. See where the picks hit the rock?"
"The scene repeats itself as if it's looped," Vikirnoff said. "If we disturb it, by entering into it, would that trigger a trap, or dispel the scene?"
"He would not have gone to this trouble without some kind of a trap." Rafael rubbed his chin. "Unless it is a delaying tactic."
"If it is, it is a darned good one. You stay clear just in case I trigger an attack." Vikirnoff approached the miners with caution. None of them looked up. No one spoke. They continued with their work as if he wasn't walking in their midst. He glanced at Rafael. "Any ideas?"
"Take the pickax out of one of their hands and see if that disrupts the scene," Rafael suggested.
Vikirnoff stepped up beside a miner and easily pulled the tool from the man's hands. There was a brief moment of eerie silence as the ringing of the picks abruptly stopped. Immediately the tools fell to the ground and the men dissolved into skeletons, the bones sprawling all over the floor of the mine-shaft. Scraps of clothing lay rotting and the smell of decomposing bodies immediately filled the already foul air.
"Well, now we know for certain what happened to the missing people from the town and outlying ranches," Rafael said grimly. "This is definitely Kirja's lair." He stepped past the grotesque scene, careful not to disturb the bones.
They moved down the tunnel in total darkness. Almost at once there was a rustle behind them followed by the rattle of bone clicking against bone. The hunters whirled around to face the army of skeletons rising from the floor, bones reassembling to form warriors wielding the pickaxes with menacing intent, the eyeless skulls staring straight ahead.
"The sound of the picks on the rocks had to be the trigger," Rafael said in disgust at himself. "If we had not disturbed the scene, the trap would not have been sprung." He moved away from Vikirnoff to give them both fighting room.
It was a disturbing thing to see the dead rise up to defend the very creature that had brutally murdered them. It seemed so wrong, so obscene, that Rafael actually winced when he gathered his power into a ball of energy and sent it careening into the midst of the skeleton army. The explosion rocked the mines, cracked rotten timbers, splintered beams overhead, and sent dirt and rocks falling on the dead.
Vikirnoff and Rafael hurried away from the avalanche of debris. The three remaining skeletons that had not been caught in the force of the explosion rushed the hunters, brandishing their pickaxes. Their bones clacked and scraped in a gruesome manner and their mouths widened into a horrible gape. All the while the eyes stared straight ahead, pitiless holes in the empty skulls. Lights sprang up along the walls, lanterns swinging as if set in motion by an unseen hand. A wind rushed through the tunnels, awakening the guardians of the undead.
"Not good," Rafael murmured.
A terrible wailing came from somewhere just ahead of them, the sound swelling in volume until it was a symphony of screams. Dark shadows slipped through the cracks in the rock and dirt forming the walls of the tunnels. Vikirnoff turned to face the skeletons and Rafael took up a position at his back, facing the shadows. The Carpathians waited, back to back, for the attack.
It came in a rush of wind and bones. Dark shadows crept over the beams and rock, wailing loudly as they came with outstretched arms and clawed fingers, grasping for the hunters. Rafael answered with a burst of shattering white-hot light. The shadows screamed in fear and horror, retreating from the brilliance into the deeper recesses of the mine.
Vikirnoff smashed several lanterns over the heads of the skeletons, dousing them with flames. The pickaxes lay harmlessly in the dirt, but the burning bones continued forward, determined to kill the hunters. "Mist," he ordered.
Rafael shifted simultaneously with Vikirnoff so that the skeletons rushed past into the brilliant light. The bones disintegrated, exploding into splintered fragments. The flames flickered and died. There was another eerie silence.
