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discussing how they could take over ruling the Carpathian people. The possibilities of destroying an entire species, allies of the prince, had been a hot topic of conversation. In the intellectual debate, they had devised many ways, and one had been to influence self-destructive behavior, to capitalize on a species’ weakness. Just as the jaguar society had done.
    When their prince had sent them out into the world, away from their native land to protect humans, the subject had once again come up. In the end, the De La Cruz brothers had sworn to serve their prince and people. Once their word was given, no De La Cruz would ever go back, given a choice. The Malinov brothers had done the same.
    Manolito was careful to keep that information to himself. Just the talk of betraying the prince had been bad enough and he was ashamed. He had never felt shame before and it was an uncomfortable emotion.
    You were right all those years ago. The voices whispered once again in his mind. You and your brothers should have followed your own path completely. You allowed a weaker man to reign, to lead our people down a path of destruction. Had Zacarias ruled, the Carpathian people would be thriving, not driven into the ground, hated and feared and hunted by the very people they protect.
    Manolito let out his breath in a long hiss of challenge. Show yourselves. Do not hide in the shadows. Come out where I can see you. He couldn’t maintain the energy to stay long within the jaguar-man’s body. He had to rid the man of the taint of the vampire and get back to his own unprotected body.
    There is no need to feel shame. It was a brilliant plan.
    Manolito took another breath and blocked everything out but the task at hand. The voices from the shadow world would have to wait. The jaguar-man was straining to hold the beast, keep it from leaping on Manolito and tearing apart his unprotected body.
    The hot white light, pure energy, spilled over the center of the dark stain with terrible purpose. Manolito focused his entire attention to the task, risking everything to do so, not only because it was the right thing to do, but because he wanted to make up, in some small way, for his part in the plot devised so many years earlier. What had only been an intellectual debate had at one time exploded into angry possibility, but Manolito thought they had discarded all notion of betrayal and sabotage. Obviously one or more of the Malinov brothers had decided at some point to implement the plan. Manolito had witnessed firsthand the attempts to assassinate the prince, and then to kill the women and children of the Carpathians. Now, it seemed, the enemy had also put into motion a plan to wipe out the jaguar people.
    Manolito utilized every bit of energy to fight the small threads of wriggling parasites, burning them out of their hiding places, following them as they raced through the jaguar-man’s brain in an attempt to evade the attack. It was exhausting and time-consuming work.
    When he was done and returned to his own body, Manolito staggered and nearly went down. His earlier need for blood had barely been satisfied, and using such energy had drained him. Only iron discipline kept him on his feet.
    Beside him, the jaguar contorted. Fur rippled and muscles stretched and lengthened. The shifting of the jaguar people was different from that of the Carpathians. Skin and bands of muscle appeared; long, dark hair with streaks of gold running through it covered a noble head. A man crouched on the ground where the cat had been.
    Luiz straightened slowly until he was standing upright in front of Manolito. Like all jaguar-men, he was comfortable with his nudity, his body roped with muscles, his hair shaggy. “I apologize for attempting to take your life.” He spoke with great dignity, his eyes meeting Manolito’s without flinching, even as he gestured toward the blood dripping steadily down the hunter’s body.
    Manolito bowed slightly in acknowledgment, while keeping