Ivory crossed herself and gave them a small smile. “You two work very well together, a true alpha pair.”

“Don’t even think it,” Razvan cautioned, his arm sliding around Ivory’s waist. “No more wolf pups. Mikhail will not turn a blind eye forever.”

“I know.” She rested her head against his shoulder briefly. “But they would be perfect, just like Dimitri and Skyler are.”

“So would we,” Fen said, daring to tease her when no one else but her lifemate did. “Don’t listen to Razvan, Ivory.”

Branislava waved her hand and the protection circle opened. Zev made an effort and got to his feet. He didn’t want to sever Arno’s head, but it had to be done. The man needed to be given peace. He drew his sword and waited for Branislava to step back. Fen and Dimitri drew her to them, Dimitri steadying her while Fen offered her his wrist.

“Good journey, old friend,” Zev whispered as he swung his sword.

The wrench in his gut was expected. The burning behind his eyes not so much. He looked away from the others, unable for a moment to catch his breath. At once, she was there. Soft. Warm. Pouring into his mind, filling him with her special brand of love. How had he ever done without her?

“Zev,” Razvan said softly. “Take what is offered freely.” He held out his wrist.

Zev didn’t look at him, although he was fairly certain courtesy dictated that he do so. Razvan’s voice was too gentle, too understanding. He didn’t want sympathy, or even understanding. He let himself consume the hot nutrients, without actually tasting or even thinking about what he was doing. He had to get through the next few hours and do what had to be done. He’d grieve for his friends later.

“We’ll need to prepare a pyre for the bodies,” Zev said when he had drunk his fill. “The other members of the council will want to be there to send them on their journey. A private place, but big enough for the Lycans to gather.”

“Zev,” Fen said softly. “It isn’t a good time to have a large gathering, not now that we know Xaviero is close by. He’ll know the Lycan traditions and he’ll be expecting a funeral pyre.”

“He’ll be angry,” Tatijana added. “No one ever defied them, or outsmarted them. He’ll be so maddened, he might try to bring the mountain down on top of all us.”

“No one move,” Branislava said suddenly.

Zev froze in place. Her voice had gone still. A warning. He wasn’t the only one who believed her low, incredibly soft voice. He looked down at Arno’s body and the severed head. For a moment he could see nothing out of place. He was a man of small details and the only thing different was that the necklace had dropped onto the floor. What had she seen that he hadn’t?

“What is it?” Fen asked.

The room had flooded with tension. All of them were well aware of what a High Mage was capable of.

He saw it then. One strand of the cord had dropped into the pool of Arno’s blood and was now thoroughly soaked in it. The blood had begun to travel down the cord on one side and up the other so that the red stain spread slowly through the rest of the cords.

“The necklace,” Branislava whispered, her voice almost hoarse. “Arno’s necklace. Tatijana, it’s inside the circle with us.”

The cord had remained still under Zev’s watchful gaze. As far as he could tell, it was simply a weave of twine now soaked in blood. He believed Branislava’s fear, but he couldn’t see the why of it. Of course the necklace would get blood on it if it fell into the pool beneath Arno. Still, he waited, touching her mind. She was frightened.

Tatijana moved first. She stepped into the circle of protection that Branislava had made earlier. Ivory and Skyler joined her. The three began to walk together, following the circle, chanting softly. Zev didn’t allow himself to get distracted. He kept his gaze on the necklace, now pumped up from the blood. The strands of twine appeared to have swelled, nearly doubling in size. When the three women began to move, one piece near the medallion seemed to break off enough to turn toward the movement.

Fen’s breath hissed out. “It’s alive. That thing’s alive.”

Branislava reached out very slowly and touched Fen’s arm to quiet him. He was standing closest to the blood-filled creature and at the sound of his voice, it swung its head toward Fen. The movement was fast, as if sound and motion triggered aggression. The organism appeared to be listening again.

Zev could see the head now. It was round like a swollen bulb, but the strands at the top were frayed as if some of the twine was embedded within the head and stuck out like spiked hair. The blood continued to fill the strands so that it doubled, then tripled in size. The three women stepped away from the circle, and again the creature swung its head toward them. They froze halfway to the door.

How do we get rid of it? Zev asked. He used the common Carpathian path of communication, rather than his private one with Branislava.

I’m trying to think. I’ve seen this before, but only once. The tension in her voice indicated the creature was extremely dangerous. No one talk or make a move. It’s lightning fast. You won’t be able to outrun it. Tatijana, do you remember?

No. No, I don’t. There was terror in Tatijana’s voice, so much so that Zev feared Fen wouldn’t be able to stop himself from going to her. He must have said something privately to her because some of the fear on her face eased.

It’s okay, Branislava said to her sister. I’ll figure it out. I just need a minute.

Zev detested the fear in Branislava’s voice. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her safe, to keep her from having to deal with mage magic and blood and death. She’d had enough of such things in her childhood and the years that followed, trapped as she was in dragon form watching an endless parade of tortures.

Branka, you can remember. Your fear is a childlike fear. Go back to those days. That is where you will find the memory.

He realized the moment he gave her the information that she already knew it. She didn’t want to remember. Whatever memory was associated with the wormlike blood-filled creature, had been traumatizing and she didn’t want to recall it.

I’m sorry, mon chaton féroce. I should have known better. I’m with you this time. You won’t face it alone.

He might not be able to fight the thing physically, but he could stand in front of her.

Branislava shut herself off from the rest of them, but not Zev. She sank into his mind, merged deeply with him, drawing on his strength. He was a rock, a steady anchor, and she knew she could count on him to keep her just as steady.