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Shapeshifting
am to the south, an old man walking alone by the river.
Dominic felt the old camaraderie welling out of nowhere. He would die on this rising or the next and yet his lifemate had given him this powerful gift of emotion. He could feel, not just remember, how much he had enjoyed Zacarias with his quick intelligence and fierce fighting skills. He didn’t question that any vampire might mimic the oldest De La Cruz brother’s voice, the resonance was too perfect—no one could adequately portray the power of the man with just his voice alone.
It would be good to see you, old friend, but dangerous. If the five could get their hands on you, they would probably be happier than if they managed to capture the prince. Dominic sent the warning, certain Zacarias was well aware the ones leading the vampire rising were the Malinov brothers. Once, the De La Cruz brothers and the Malinovs had been as close as family; now the Malinovs hated the De La Cruz brothers with every bit of malice and treachery their black souls could conjure up.
Do you know if the remaining brothers are here? Dominic turned south. He did so more to protect Zacarias than for any other reason. If one of the undead spotted him, a fight would ensue. He had no doubt of Zacarias’s capabilities in a fight, but the undead seemed to be in significant numbers, and even a warrior of Zacarias’s skill could be defeated.
I have hunted them. There seem to be several lesser of the undead, newly recruited, and a few more with greater experience. I have spotted two masters , but neither are the Malinovs. They have targeted my brothers, Dominic. I have no choice but to hunt them.
That was Zacarias. His brothers would always come first. He cared little for his own life, but he would survive to remove any threat to his younger brothers. Which was laughable. The other four De La Cruz brothers were more than capable warriors, each highly skilled, trained by Zacarias, with the experience of thousands of battles.
The bats wheeled in the sky, a black flutter of wings as he circled closer to get a better look at the ground. Far below, walking through the trees, was an old man, bent over, using a tall walking stick, looking very vulnerable, an enticement for any self-respecting vampire. Dominic smiled to himself. Zacarias wasn’t prone to a lot of talking. He drew his enemy to him and disposed of him without fanfare or bravado.
He came to earth at a safe distance, just because prudence dictated caution in the midst of enemy territory. The old man remained a few yards from him. They studied one another. Zacarias kept the aged appearance, but there was no mistaking those piercing steel eyes. The shaggy hair was streaked with gray, but Dominic knew it was as black as a raven’s wing without the disguise.
“ Arwa-arvod mäne me ködak— may your honor hold back the dark,” Dominic greeted, striding forward. He clasped Zacarias’s forearms in the age-old greeting of the highest respect between two warriors.
Zacarias gripped him hard, with remembered affection. “ Arwa-arvo olen isäntä, ekäm— honor keep you, my brother,” he returned formally. “It has been long since I heard our language. We speak Portuguese or Spanish as a rule. Sometimes Dutch. We have to adapt to whichever country we are sweeping for vampires. It is a big continent for the five of us to patrol and the Malinovs know this.”
They stepped apart and regarded one another. Dominic smiled. “It has been too long, Zacarias.”
Zacarias nodded. “Long have I been fighting, holding on to honor. My brothers have found their lifemates and my job is nearly done.”
Dominic looked at him sharply. “You have given up all hope of a lifemate of your own.”
“I am weary of this life, Dominic,” Zacarias agreed. “And I no longer can change to suit the times. Women are different, have grown beyond all that we knew. I have lived too long as a dominant man, my word law, everything my way. The women I have
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