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  “I shall take her right here, drain every last drop of blood from her and I shall do so in front of you. Perhaps even in this very bed. What do think? You'll be totally helpless as I make Neomina my next meal. So, game for a threesome? You, me, Neomina—the same blood flows in all of us now. Oh, so sweet it will be.” As if salivating over his dastardly plans, Percival licked his lips.

  Lazarus spit out the blood that flowed in his mouth.

  “You really should not have done that, cousin. What am I to do with you? No captive has ever given me as much grief as you.” Percy bit into his wrist and thrust his bleeding arm into Lazarus’ face. “Drink, damn you.”

  Lazarus refused to open his mouth.

  “Now you've really gone and done it. I have no patience for your stupidity.” He pulled his wrist away and swabbed the oozing blood with one of his fingers.

  Lazarus felt Percy's free hand clamp down upon his face and force a pucker on his lips. Percy's blood-covered finger brushed his mouth.

  “One way or another, I will keep the hunger alive in you, Lazarus. Do not fight me on this; not now, not ever again. Do I make myself clear?”

  Thoughts of Neomina being brought across to the Dark Breed flooded Lazarus’ mind. His eyes grew wide with fear.

  “I cannot believe you never thought of that before. What did you think I had planned for the little woman? A life similar to the one enjoyed by the Tribe? Hell, no. I will have you bring her across, for after I drain her blood and leave her for dead, you'll want to rescue her instead of having your wife die in torment. And when you bring her across it shall be to the eternal night of the Dark Breed. That's right, cousin. You merely suffer from the hunger now, but soon you will change. You will be like I am now, damned to the Dark Breed. Now, drink, or I'll send the Nephilim out to fetch your pretty bride and you'll never see her again.”

  Lazarus did Percival's bidding. He parted his lips and fed the hunger that ached inside him. In his state of demented torment, Percy's blood tasted sweet like a fine dessert. He fought the urge to drink too much and pulled his lips away before being sated.

  “You truly are a miserable soul, Lazarus. You take from me my only source of enjoyment in this tormented world. Damn you, cousin. Damn you.”

  Lazarus leaned over the bed and threw up. His wrists burned with raw wounds etched by the silver chains that held him to the bed. Then he swore an oath in anger.

  “Now, I must seek pleasure from another. Perhaps you care to watch? No? Oh, well, I'll share the fun with you just the same.”

  Percival snapped his fingers and instantly one of his shape-shifter slaves appeared in the room.

  “This one was once mortal, an innocent soul who accidentally crossed my path. I had no choice but to drink her blood and then turn her into my slave.” Percy paused and put a studious look on his face. “I didn't tell you that these creatures—the shape-shifters—were made by me, did I?”

  “No,” said Lazarus. “And mercy me, I'm shocked you failed to brag about such a great accomplishment.”

  The cold sting of silver links whipped across his face. A searing burn settled on his flesh.

  Percy nodded to the shape-shifter and the zombie-like creature approached the bed. Once she was within his reach, he bent the woman's neck and pushed her long golden locks out of the way. A forked serpent's tongue slithered from the Vampyre's mouth and danced across the woman's smooth, bare flesh. With a single bite, he dove deep into the shape-shifter's jugular and drank until the woman cried out. Percy then tossed her onto the bed and forced her neck to Lazarus’ lips.

  “Take her or I'll finish her.”

  Lazarus didn't know which of the two fates was better for the woman—death or to be trapped in a living damnation. He turned his head away.

  “Let this death rest on your conscience, cousin.”

  Lazarus clinched his eyes shut and tuned out Percival's deed. He was helpless to stop him.

  CHAPTER 21

  “From here on in, you'll have to trust me completely, Neomina,” said Monty. “The caves of the Dark Breed are dangerous places.”

  Neomina opened her eyes and found herself on a sandy beach. Montgomery had brought them there by thought just as he had promised. She checked the sack that carried the St. John Stake and secured it onto her shoulder. She took a deep breath and surveyed the beach and jutting rocks that disappeared into the crashing waves.

  “I am ready.”

  Montgomery lifted Neomina yet again into his arms and glided easily off the ground. She closed her eyes and never once looked down. The cool feel of the ocean's spray showered her. She shook the drenching water from her face and hoped the ride would soon be over. The thought of being out over open sea frightened her, even if she knew that being in the arms of an angel secured her safety.

  Moments later she felt her feet touch ground.

  The cave was dark and smelled of iron, the scent of blood. Neomina choked on the odor.

  “I am afraid it won't get any better,” said Montgomery. “The lair is deep within the caverns and I can assure you neatness and cleanliness are not high priorities with the Dark Breed. They care only about their feeding frenzies.”

  Neomina shifted the sack on her shoulder. The sharp point of the St. John Stake protruded from the bag and jabbed at her back, and she turned the weapon around while it remained inside the bag.

  “It looks very dark in the cavern. How shall we find our way about?”

  Burning torches appeared from out of nowhere to line the walls of the cave.

  “How did you do that, Monty?”

  “I didn't. It was you, your thoughts. The power of the Vampyre is very strong, child. You have no idea of the extent of the dark gift. You can make certain things happen merely by wishing them into being.”

  Monty's words made her remember Lazarus and how he lit the hearth in their bedroom by using only his desire to do so. Neomina marveled at the notion.

  “Why do I feel it so strongly here?”

  “I suspect it is because Lazarus is nearby and the fact he is one with you.”

  “As is Percival.” Her soul feeling uneasy acknowledging the truth, she uttered the words in a whisper.

  “Come, stay close to me. These caves have many hidden alcoves that lead to nowhere. Their only purpose is to confuse the wanderer.”

  Neomina took Montgomery's hand, clutched it tight and followed the angel into the depths of the dark caverns. She felt anxiety fill her soul as the cave opened to a large chamber. Flaming torches lined the walls, illuminating the lair.

  “This is where they make their homes. I can sense the Nephilim nearby.”

  Sensing them, too, she shivered. “Will they come out?”

  “No,” said Montgomery. “This is not one of their battles. Percival wasn't born into the Nephilim and they will not fight on his behalf. We have only the Vampyre to worry about.”

  Neomina glimpsed around the cavern and felt the cold chill of the Dark Breed and of Percy reach for her soul. “And that alone is more than I care to concern myself with. Now, which way should we go? There are so many chambers leading off from this one. If only I could feel Lazarus more strongly.”

  “He is probably not able to reach you because Percy has weakened him. When we get closer to him I'm sure you will feel his presence.” Montgomery studied the caverns surrounding them. “I believe we should go straight. I can sense Percival up ahead, and where he is, so shall Lazarus be.”

  Monty took Neomina's hand and headed for the rocky archway at the end of the open cavern. The rotten smell of foul blood filled the air worse than before and the aroma grew stronger as they continued deeper into the cave.

  “Wait.” Neomina froze in her tracks, forcing Montgomery to stop. “I can feel him. Lazarus is nearby.”

  “Close your eyes and concentrate, Neomina. Reach him with your mind.”

  “But what if Percival hears me? He will know we are here and that we have come to rescue Lazarus.”

  “Never mind
him. Using my angelic powers, I can shroud your thoughts from the Dark Breed, but first you must make contact with Lazarus.”

  She shut her eyes and concentrated. Thoughts of Lazarus flooded her mind, but they were all of times past, all of moments shared in the forest and at Sanctum Hall. She felt the icy hand of fear rise up to torment her soul as she began to consider that Lazarus was losing his battle with Percy. “No.”

  She fought the panic that slowly began to consume her.

  “Concentrate, Neomina. You will find him.”

  Lazarus? Is that you? Where are you?

  A moan flowed through her ears.

  Neomina...

  She heard him call her name, but nothing more. She tried again. This time Neomina saw the prison chamber.

  She scanned the room in her mind and searched for a door.

  Bring your thoughts back this way, child, and we will find the path that leads to Lazarus, Monty said within her thoughts.

  I'm trying, but I don't see a way out of the chamber.

  That's because there is no door, whispered Lazarus.

  Think yourself there, Neomina. It is the only way.

  But what about you?

  I can do so on my own, but you must take the first step. I can connect with Percival because he is my son. You must be the one to connect with Lazarus. You are his wife.

  She concentrated even harder and then everything faded to black. In a moment of despair Neomina opened her eyes. To her amazement she found herself standing in Lazarus’ prison chamber.

  “Neomina,” said Lazarus. “Come to me.” His voice called to her.

  “No. Don't go near him, child,” Monty said. He quickly pulled Neomina back.

  “But he needs me.”

  “No. It is a trick. Lazarus is under Percival's control at present. It is he who calls you now and not my nephew. I can feel it in my soul. The sensation emitted in this chamber stirs me to the core as only Percy can, as only the force of a tormented mind can.”

  She didn't know what to believe. Lazarus lay in a crude bed across the room. Even in the distance Neomina could see the extent of his wounds. His face and body were all bruised and bloodied. Burn marks scorched his wrists and ankles. She felt his pain, his anger and his fear.

  “Give me the stake.”

  “What?”

  “I said give me the stake.”

  Neomina stared at Montgomery not knowing what led him to such a notion.

  “I want to break off a small piece of wood and toss it onto the bed. By doing so, Percival will back away.”

  “But what about Lazarus?”

  “He has already felt the sting of the Saint John Stake. It will not hurt him in the same manner it does Percival. A soul can build resistance to the stake. Besides, by forcing Percy away, Lazarus will be relieved of some of his pain.”

  Neomina took the sack off her shoulder and placed it on the ground. A sizzling sound filled the air as the bag met with the rocky surface and seared its mark into the stone.

  “Why did it do that?” She turned to Monty for an answer.

  “Dark Breed Territory is cursed, damned. The Stake is of the essence of Paradise and it will serve to destroy all that is of hell and unworthy of salvation.”

  Neomina stared at the smoldering relic.

  “Be careful, child. Think of the Tracker inside your soul and the Stake will not burn you.”

  She reached her hand into the sack and felt for the weapon. The cold feel of metal encasing wood brushed her skin. With the utmost caution, Neomina retrieved the St. John's Stake. The powerful relic was made of coarse wood taken from Christ's cross and interlaced with the silver melted down from the platter that once carried John the Baptist's head. She handed the relic to Montgomery.

  “Help him, please.” She begged with her eyes.

  “Watch me. You may have need of this in the future.” Montgomery carefully drew a splinter from the stake. A small piece of silver topped one end of the wood shard.

  He tossed it onto the bed and waited.

  A whirling wind accompanied by a beastly roar blew about the chamber and then vanished. Lazarus cried out.

  “You can go to him now.”

  Neomina wasted no time. In an instant, she stood at Lazarus’ side and stared in disbelief at his many wounds. “I'll free you from this. I swear I will, Lazarus.”

  “Monty.” She called to the angel, not knowing what to do about the chains that cuffed Lazarus’ hands and feet.

  “Will them to open, Neomina. Help me on this and together we can remove them.”

  The snapping sound of metal breaking crackled through the air as the heavy silver chains fell from the wall and bedposts. Neomina quickly pushed the links off the straw-covered pallet that cradled Lazarus’ body.

  Montgomery opened his hand and a Paradisian peach appeared in his palm. He leaned over the bed and gently pressed the piece of fruit to his nephew's lips. Lazarus devoured the peach.

  “Perhaps he is thirsty. What about some wine?”

  A pitcher appeared in the air above the bed. Montgomery brought it down to Lazarus’ mouth.

  In his parched state, Lazarus drank the berry wine but spilled it as he gulped. The pitcher supplied him with an endless flow of drink and ceased only when Lazarus no longer thirsted.

  The bloodied wounds on his face slowly faded. Smooth flesh covered his wrists and ankles and wiped away the burns that seared his skin.

  “The fruit and wine of Paradise nourishes the Vampyric soul,” said Montgomery. “It will help him heal.”

  Neomina reached for Lazarus’ hand, but he pulled away.

  “Don't come near me. Back away, Neomina. Your blood stirs me. I can smell it.” His eyes were closed, his body frozen in pain, in hunger.

  “Why did you bring her here, Monty? You of all souls should know how I get when the hunger consumes me.”

  “You need her. Neomina is your only hope.”

  “Then keep her away from me. Take her to the other side of the room.”

  “No. I won't leave your side, Lazarus. I can't.”

  “Go!” he shouted and opened his eyes. Dancing flames filled the pupils of his fathomless orbs and sent Neomina a glare that could kill if he so deemed.

  Neomina gasped in shock.

  “You have never seen something as hideous, I suspect,” said Lazarus. “Your fears are justified, woman. They always have been. I am Vampyre and now I am of the Dark Breed. I can feel my soul slowly dying, slowly damning itself to Hell.”

  “But I don't fear you, Lazarus, I love you.”

  “Leave me be.”

  Pain consumed him beyond anything he had ever felt in the past. Lazarus wondered if it would go away or if this was the fate he was now doomed to live.

  “Tell me what happened to place you in such a state, nephew.”

  “Percival forced me to feed on tainted blood. He has given life to a clan of shape-shifters that exist merely for him to feed upon. But the hunger began even before I came here. It happened the night I left. I took Neomina in my bed and I should never have done that. I couldn't help myself. Her blood stirs me to the ends of my resistance. It was too soon since I had fed from the Tribe and Percival allowed his own blood to flow with Neomina's.

  “The blood I drank from her was his. When I arrived here I had Percival's blood already coursing through my veins. He knew I was on my way here and he needed a plan of defense. Your son is smarter than I thought. But that shouldn't surprise me. You killed my father and now your son shall kill me. I guess it is true apples don't fall far from the tree.”

  Montgomery stood at Lazarus’ bedside, struck by shock. “I did no such thing. You must have gone to great lengths to shield such thoughts from me. Is that why you have hated me all these years, thinking I killed my brother? Oh, Lazarus, nothing could be farther from the truth. Lucien, Lord of Hell, killed your father. Lexliel was murdered while trying to save my son from the clutches of the Vampyre. I have pledged my soul to avenge his death and th
at is the reason why I loathed the Vampyre. The thought of such beings, be they exorcized or be they damned, remind me of my son's death.”

  Lazarus didn't know what to say. His entire life he had carried a grudge against Montgomery and he never thought to talk to the angel, to learn why his uncle hated the Vampyre. Now guilt filled his soul. What would life have been like had he had a better relationship with the angel?

  “I always wished I could've looked on you as a father. I should never have allowed myself to harbor anger against you.”

  “Everything happens for a reason, Lazarus. I truly believe it does.”

  A sudden quake shook the caverns. Percival's sinister laugh echoed about the rocky lair, the eerie tone of his voice frightening Neomina and sending chills down her spine. A strange look crossed her face.

  “What's wrong, Neomina?”

  “It is Percival. I can feel him inside me. His blood stirs my soul as if he and I are one. Perhaps it would be wise for us to leave here. I don't know how much longer I can fight him.”

  Lazarus reached out his hand. “I need you, Monty. Don't leave me here. Not now.”

  Montgomery took his nephew's hand and wrapped it in his own.

  “I am not going anywhere,” he said. “Besides, we can't leave.”

  “What do you mean?” Neomina asked.

  “I took an oath before the Soul of Paradise,” said the angel. “I vowed to rid the world of Percival's evil existence. By my own choice, I am to carry out the deed or die. The oath cannot be broken now that I am here and there is no going back.”

  Neomina closed her eyes. Percival tormented her soul by making her wait for him to appear. He was a cunning soul and Neomina remembered her father once saying that the Dark Breed always made their prey wait, wait until they were weak and broken by frustration. Then, the kill would be easy. She prayed that, should she die at her enemy's hands, death would be swift.