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  He slipped into the bed and wrapped his arms around Neomina's slim waist. The warmth of her slumbering body further ignited his passion and filled Lazarus with a burning fire that spread deep within his soul and throughout his entire being. It felt good to be close to her. Secure in his arms, Neomina shifted nearer to Lazarus and snuggled against the pulsing energy radiating from his body. She offered the slightest of sighs.

  The soft moan sent Lazarus reeling into a complete state of heated desire where he lost all sense of composure. His heart raced and his body tensed. He pulled away for a mere moment and fought to restrain himself for Neomina's sake because he didn't want to wake her suddenly. He delved deep into Neomina's mind. Even as she slept, her thoughts were only of him. The realization excited him.

  He gently turned her so that, locked in his arms, they embraced face-to-face. Neomina's marble-hard nipples protruded through her shift like tantalizing berries ripe for the taking. He glided a hand over her breast and cupped it gently, lifting its peak to his lips. A slight shock of electric energy passed between him and Neomina. She moaned a second time and arched her body closer to his. He devoured everything she offered him as if he had never tasted her sweet, addictive essence.

  Outside, in one of the other rooms, Lazarus heard voices. He pulled away from Neomina with the greatest of care and allowed her to fall gently back upon her pillow. She continued to sleep.

  Lazarus rose from the bed, ever so careful to leave his wife undisturbed. He floated to the door and listened intently to two men engaged in conversation. The first voice he heard was a familiar one and belonged to Gerard Delacroix, but the second he did not recognize.

  “I don't know what should be done about this, Roderick. I have never had to deal with such a situation on my own before. Percival knows I am well aware of his secret, as is Montgomery. Besides the two of us, no soul other than Percy himself is familiar with the matter. I've kept my word all these years never speaking of his survival and now this is how I am repaid. It doesn't seem right, I tell you, not right at all.”

  “Can't Monty help you?”

  “No,” Gerard said. “His hands are as tied as mine. He knows Percival was brought across centuries ago but, in truth, I think Montgomery believes him to be dead. If I am not mistaken, the angel never learned of Percy's survival. He believes the Tribe is hunted by the same soul who came for his own family near the end of the Empire—a blood-feasting beast who now lives among the Nephilim.”

  “And what about members of the Tribe? Surely someone among that bunch can help in the matter.”

  Lazarus heard the frustration in Delacroix's voice as he spoke. The man let out a sigh before answering. “Monty's tried that already. He'd like nothing better than to get to the bottom of this. He has many close allies among Lazarus’ kind, the New Breed, but Lazarus is the only one who can help and Montgomery refuses to bring him into the situation. My son-in-law knows nothing of the matter and it has to stay that way. Lazarus must never learn the truth.”

  “The way I see it then, Brother, you have only two choices here. First off, you can make a deal with Percival and give him something to sate the hunter's temperament that rages within. I'm sure he's the type of soul that can be bought.”

  Gerard took a moment before answering. Lazarus heard the men walking closer to Neomina's room as they traveled down the tiny corridor. He remained behind the door and prayed his presence would go unnoticed.

  “I can't do that,” said Gerard. “In the past, Percival made it very clear the only thing he would ever take from me in exchange for leaving Lazarus’ Tribe alone would be the Amulet of Christ. Octavia's mother, a Tracker by birth, gave the amulet to my wife for safekeeping after Romulus returned to the world of the Vampyre. And there is no way I can turn over the Blood of Christ to a leader of the Dark Breed. It is simply impossible. Besides, without the amulet, I will revert to being a Dark Breeder, and as such a creature, the first thing I would instinctively destroy would be Neomina. I'd have no choice but to take her life because my soul would rule my mind, my actions.”

  Roderick let out a deep breath. “Then you have to allow Percival to do it. You must let him hunt the Tribe. You have no other choice in the matter. If I were you, I'd wash my hands of the situation and let what will be, be.”

  “But that, too, would be murder! And what about Neomina?”

  “As a widow she could easily remarry. It's no secret she is admired by almost every man who walks among the Trackers. She'd find a new suitor immediately.”

  Lazarus held his breath. The thought of another man holding Neomina caused his heart to jump. A sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

  “It is your daughter or the Tribe, Gerard. I really don't see that as a difficult choice.”

  “I have until midnight to make a decision,” Delacroix said. “Percival will not wait any longer than tonight. He made that clear to me the last time we talked. And at this late hour, that does not leave me much time to come up with a plan. However, I must think of something. I simply must.”

  Lazarus leaned back against the wall. His energy faded fast as his mind focused on the threat of death and not heated desire.

  He had to get back to Sanctum Hall. He approached Neomina's bed one last time and peered down at her lovingly. Fear consumed his soul knowing she wasn't safe anywhere. If Gerard didn't give in to Percival, then Lazarus’ enemy would hunt Neomina. As heir to the Trackers, she would be the next in line as keeper of the Amulet of Christ. And if Gerard did give in, he would revert to being a Dark Breeder and kill his own daughter. Lazarus didn't know what was best to do. Leave Neomina with Gerard or take her to the Hall? Either way, she'd be in danger.

  He rubbed his temples and tried to ease the confusion. A sacrifice of the Tribe would see to her safety, but put an end to his kin. He didn't know what to do. The Tribe would turn on him in an instant if they sensed his betrayal. He was convinced of this. On the other hand, Neomina would give up all for him even if she wouldn't admit it to his face. He knew her heart, her soul, her thoughts.

  The choice was not easy for him. For the time being, he'd leave his wife in Delacroix's care and plot his secession from the Tribe. He could easily pass his powers on to his next of kin but he would have to be careful in doing so. If he gave up all his powers, he would be called to the sun and wiped from the face of the earth.

  With Neomina as his bride, death was the last thing Lazarus desired for himself. Without the Tribe, he'd have no allegiance to anyone but Neomina.

  He leaned forward and bent down to his wife's sleeping body. His lips caressed hers with the slightest touch before he vanished, returning to Sanctum Hall.

  CHAPTER 5

  Raw emotion coursed through Lazarus’ soul as he sat amongst the Tribe as they took their dinner. He studied the faces of each and every one of his kin and wondered which souls seated at his tables were the ones siding with Montgomery in betraying him. His uncle had never mentioned to him that he had once had a son named Percival. He wondered if, because of their strained relationship, the angel would have turned to another member of the Tribe to confide in. They looked like such a pitiful bunch. Every one of them.

  For the first time in his more than six hundred years, he took a good look at the Tribe. They had pale faces, pale skin, and wore the most morbidly styled clothing he had ever seen—dark velvets adorned with heavy, weighted chains made of both silver and gold even in summer. If an outsider ever happened upon them, the poor soul would fall dead from the shock alone. The idea irritated Lazarus. His Tribe cared little for man's world since leaving Rome and only a very few ever ventured from Sanctum Hall. They knew nothing of the world outside.

  He considered, then, what the Tribe really amounted to. Were they mortal bodies bound to unnatural souls? Or the other way around; mortal souls bound in unnatural casings? Either way, he needed to find a way to convince himself they didn't mean anything to him anymore, that they'd be better off without him. If only he could prove they would
betray him, the decision would be much easier to make. He contemplated his predicament in silence. Anger filled his every thought and served to bring up yet another problem. He had to find the one soul he thought would be strong enough to lead the Tribe in his absence. His rightful heirs were the twins, Althea and Byron. The idea of leaving the Tribe in their care did little to settle his already agitated nerves. He frowned in annoyance.

  Once again, Lazarus surveyed the great hall. He saw the room as filled with the bodies of souls living among the undead and nothing more. There was no family here, he thought, no sense of unity. No, the Tribe was nothing more than what they appeared to be—beasts born of darkness or mutated at best. He hated himself and what he was, what he had made the souls of his kin into being. Gerard's comrade was right. They were better off dead. Let be what will be.

  Thoughts of betrayal lingered in his mind. He figured Monty would have confided in the prominent members of the Tribe because they were more powerful than the Vampyres who favored the ancient ways of the breed. Lazarus’ wrath leaned heavily against specific individuals in the Tribe. His gaze darted across the tables and searched every soul seated in his company. He immediately singled out Althea and Byron. They always caused him grief and never once agreed with him for the better of the Tribe. Well, Althea did. Byron was probably too stupid to know the meaning of the word “betray.”

  He glanced down at the far end of the head table. Octavia sat feasting on Paradisian fruits and berry wine as did the others. Lazarus couldn't help but wonder about her, too. He fought the notion. His own mother? No, she couldn't betray him. He felt like a heel thinking such a thing. But Octavia always kept her distance from Monty and now the two were closer than ever. Lazarus searched his head for a logical explanation concerning his mother's behavior, but he came up with none.

  “You haven't eaten a thing, nephew.” Montgomery lowered his body into the vacant space next to Lazarus on the wood bench. “Why so glum and alone? Join us at the other end of the table. Or perhaps over there with the others.” Monty pointed to the numerous tables at which were seated Lazarus’ kin.

  “I have no appetite tonight, thank you.”

  “So you're back to not trusting the dear old uncle, are you?”

  “I'd thank you to leave your stupid sense of humor or whatever you call your attitude out of my thoughts,” said Lazarus. He had no patience for Montgomery tonight. No patience at all. He still hadn't gotten over the resentment about his father dying instead of Monty and after overhearing Gerard's conversation earlier, Lazarus’ anger toward his uncle only grew greater.

  “You don't know what you are dealing with here, Lazarus. This is no minor feud among the Tribe or any other trivial concern for that matter.” Monty stared at his nephew. An alarmed look radiated from his deep blue eyes. “The Dark Breed hails from the most evil, most unmerciful source known to all existence. I tell you the truth when I say not even Lucien, the Devil himself, would challenge those souls. You really do not know what you're getting into here.”

  “And what about you, huh? You know everything, don't you? Everything there is to know about this situation. Don't you? Tell me!”

  Lazarus’ voice rose above all others in the great hall. He stood up and pounded his fists down hard on the table. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to stare at him.

  From behind, a Tribe member's strong hand came up and rested on his shoulder. By the tight grip, Lazarus knew it to be his cousin, Artemis.

  “Let it go, Lazarus,” said Artemis. “The tension that has mounted here over the past days is getting to every one of us. Just let it go.”

  Lazarus turned his head to see his cousin standing behind him. The older Vampyre was one of the strongest among the Tribe.

  Lazarus gave a shrug and pulled free from Artemis’ grasp.

  “I said tell me, Monty. Tell me what you know.”

  Montgomery kept silent. He bit into a succulent peach, rose from his seat and sauntered away.

  Lazarus didn't like being ignored one bit. He turned his wrath against Artemis.

  “Are you with him, too? Or what about you and you?” He shouted across the room and pointed to various members of his family. Raging with fury, he stomped his way down the great hall and stopped in front of where Althea and Byron sat.

  “And especially you.” He raised his voice to Althea. “I want you out of here now! I don't take kindly to being betrayed especially by a soul I brought across myself.”

  Lazarus stared relentlessly at Althea. He was not willing to back down, despite knowing he was probably overreacting to the whole situation. He felt his eyes transform, becoming like that of a cat. The sudden change caused his vision to shift. The vivid faces and bodies of his kin faded from his sight, replaced by blurs of detected heat.

  Speechless, Althea glanced back at him, as utter fear filled her eyes.

  In the heat of anger, Lazarus’ Vampyric fangs began to grow. He hissed as his mouth opened revealing his deadly incisors. “I can easily take back that which I easily gave. Come, Althea, let me at your neck.” He lunged forward aiming at his cousin's cold flesh.

  Byron stood in his sister's defense and immediately pushed a hand in Lazarus’ face. “Don't ever underestimate me again. I know your thoughts for me are no more than a pittance of pity. But don't you ever, ever belittle me again. And as for my sister, if you take her, then you must take me first, and I promise you, such an act will not be an easy venture.”

  Montgomery pulled Lazarus back.

  “Do yourself some good, nephew, and leave here. Go see Delacroix. He'll know what to do. You've pushed yourself over the limit, Lazarus. Returning will not be easy.”

  “I refuse to listen to the words of a soul who betrays me as we speak,” Lazarus said. With a show of force, he pulled away from Monty. “The Dark Breed hovers nearby and you know why. I'll never forgive you for turning your back on me, Monty. Never. Not even when I'm fully dead and gone from here.”

  He ran, fleeing Sanctum Hall.

  * * * *

  Lazarus fled to Tracker territory. In his Vampyric form, he swooped over the densely forested land and searched for unsuspecting prey to satisfy his deadly hunger. He thought of the wolves his grandfather had given him, but he associated them with the Tribe. At present, he wanted nothing to do with his kin, but nothing tempting surfaced. Lazarus watched as small animals scurried about in the darkness guided only by the moon's silvery beams. He considered taking perhaps a rabbit or a small dog roaming the land, but the thought of if turned his stomach. He never hunted purely for the kill or for the thrill. No, that wasn't him. He'd survive the pain of the moment. By dawn his hunger would die and he'd feel all the better for not feasting tonight.

  He saw a small clearing in the distance and glided down for a smooth landing. His vision remained in preternatural mode and made for easy detection of an enemy. However, on this night, no such force seemed to be near. He thanked God for that. Battling against another soul did not appeal to him now.

  He thought back to the Tribe and his actions against them earlier. Artemis was right. Tensions ran high among them all but they were still his kin and he could never harm them. He shook his head in despair. One moment Lazarus hated the Tribe, the next he loved them. In truth, he hated the thought of losing them.

  Thoughts of the Tribe brought back memories of the father he barely knew. Despite having been an infant when Lexliel was killed, Lazarus’ soul was still infused with a sense of loss at having grown up without a father. Over the years he had developed a good relationship with his Tribe, but once terror began to stalk them, the connection with his kin suffered. He didn't want to feel the loss of any more relatives.

  He leaned back against a tree and slumped down to the cool dewy grass. He had acted like a fool earlier and now the Tribe was left alone without his protection. Guilt added to the pain of having to choose between his kin and Neomina.

  In the shadows ahead, a single soul emerged.

  Lazarus stared out
to see who approached him.

  “What brings you here on a night like tonight, my son? Is everything all right at the Hall?”

  Lazarus eyed the man who now stood before him. Gerard wore a long, hooded cape that covered him almost entirely.

  “I don't think you should see me like this, Delacroix. My mood is one most foul and the Vampyre inside has emerged. I'm afraid I am a frightful sight at present. Back at Sanctum Hall I let my worries get the best of me and now I must settle my soul. Please, leave me be. It's for the best.”

  Gerard reached into a bag at his side and took out a Paradisian plum and some peaches. He offered them to Lazarus.

  “Take these and eat. They help suppress the pain.”

  Lazarus took the pieces of fruit and threw them into the darkened forest. “I said leave me be.”

  “Perhaps you would care to tell me your troubles, son. Maybe I can help.”

  He laughed. “Son? What a lie if I ever heard one. Tell me, Delacroix, do you always take to feeding your children to the Dark Breed? I'd really like to know.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “As if you don't know.”

  Gerard shot him a puzzled look.

  “The Dark Breeder who has been hovering about Sanctum Hall. Haven't you arranged for me to be his next feast?”

  Delacroix didn't answer at first. “Do you think this soul to be the same force that caused you to flee Rome when you were but a boy? You've told me very little of that incident, but perhaps now would be a good time to elaborate on it?”

  Lazarus rose to his feet. Delacroix had avoided his question earlier, but he hadn't denied it, either.