each click, droplets of water fell from the clouds—tiny droplets that never quite reached the ground. The beads collected in midair, formed a large, shimmering pool. Shocked, he could see his own reflection clearly in the pool. Not the scattered molecules, or an illusion, but the real man amongst the leaves. If he could see himself, so could the enemy. It was his only warning, and it came just a heartbeat before the attack.
He caught movement from the corner of his eye and instantly reacted, somersaulting through the sky, shifting into his true form, grateful for the leaves that hampered the nearly invisible silvery net meant to entangle him. Spears spiraled through the air, along with tiny darts tipped with poison from the tree frog, and showers of red-hot embers that burrowed into the skin and burned for weeks, engulfed him in a fiery cloud, penetrating deep. Pain slammed through him, but Traian shoved it aside, turning to face the enemy. Insects clouded the skies, and all the while the clicking of the fingernails went on relentlessly.
He launched himself at the shadowy figure orchestrating the fight, ignoring the two lesser vampires. Gallent seemed to be directing the action, a leader in evil, as he had been a leader among Carpathians. The ancient Carpathian-turned-vampire was a master at planning cunning traps and with the poison working its way through his system, Traian knew he was in serious trouble. He couldn’t allow Gallent room to think. His lesser vampires were considered fodder, merely pawns in his scheme to kill a Carpathian hunter. It was Gallent, Traian had to destroy.
Traian burst through the sky, his fist already snapping out, driving toward the vampire’s chest, intending to smash through the rotting shell of bone and tissue for the blackened heart.
Gallent shimmered transparently. The fist passed through his body harmlessly even as the undead struck back with razor-sharp talons. The hand came from Traian’s left, the swift, sure movement of a full-fledged master. The knifelike nails drove deep through flesh and muscle, all the way to the bone. One of the lesser vampires hurled himself onto Traian’s back, sinking his teeth into his target’s exposed neck.
Dissolving into mist, Traian streaked toward the ancient vampire, at the last moment shifting back to solid form, his fist slamming deep into the chest of the undead. Gallent shrieked. Black blood sprayed over the hunter, burning through flesh to bone, the poisonous acid pouring over Traian’s arm and hand.
Gallent retaliated with a swipe of his vicious claws at Traian’s eyes, attempting to blind the hunter. A brutal head-butt followed, and the vampire rolled his head to one side, teeth tearing into Traian’s neck, right over his vulnerable artery. Pain streaked up his neck and radiated through his body as the vampire’s serrated teeth viciously sawed through flesh to get at the enticing banquet of pure ancient blood.
Traian set his teeth, pushing aside the fierce pain to burrow deeper, tunneling towards the blackened heart. His flesh tore and the vampire spit it out, gulping at his spraying blood. The two lesser vampires shrieked in glee and leapt at him, dragging him to the ground, ripping his arm back away from their master, teeth burying into his body, desperate to get at his blood. Gallent kicked at them as they tried to devour him, teeth ripping through skin to get at the precious treasure.
The pain level became agony, nearly impossible to block out. Traian knew he had to retreat to give himself enough time to repair the damage to his neck and body. With such a blood loss, he was weakening fast. He twice tried to throw off the lesser vampires, but they stuck to him like glue. Gallent’s furious orders and vicious kicks couldn’t dislodge his minions either. The lure of pure blood was too strong.
Gallent abandoned his tactics, saliva dripping in long, slobbery strands from his mouth, as the need for Carpathian blood overcame his discipline, won over hundreds of years of being vampire. He threw himself on Traian, talons raking and teeth biting, trying, like his underlings, to strip flesh away and get at the blood. So rich and pure, the feast would boost strength and give the vampires not only a further advantage, but a rush of feeling they were so desperate to have.
Weakened, Traian took the only way out left to him, evaporating and taking to the air, streaking away from the frenzied undead. Shrieking, the three followed him, unwilling to lose their prey when they