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  In a rush Neomina made her way through the underground chapel. The long, wispy fabric of her thin, silk gown flowed freely behind her. Stalking the tombs, she moved silently about the chamber and searched for the entrance to the main part of the keep. Neomina wanted out of the abbey as quickly as possible.

  She darted between the aisles of sleeping souls and searched for the shortest escape route. Gerard had once told her about the secret entrance to Sanctum Hall so she could go to Lazarus should the Trackers ever engage in an all-out war with the Dark Breed. But Neomina hated using this entrance. It frightened her, but Lazarus was emphatic about not allowing her into his estate. And tonight she couldn't take the chance of being turned away at the gates.

  Salvation appeared at the end of the chapel. A large wood plank door separating the keep from the underground chamber beckoned her. A sudden sense of relief washed over Neomina and lifted a heavy weight of fear from her soul.

  She ran up the small set of stone steps leading to the exit and fiddled with a bolt. The wooden barrier was secured on both sides.

  Neomina unlocked her side of the door and slid the iron peg out from its bed. She bent down, lifted up the hem of her gown and retrieved a small dagger strapped to her thigh. The weapon was just slim enough to fit through a crack under the door's outer lock. Working it furiously, Neomina unbolted the other side by moving the iron peg sideways and freed herself from the abbey.

  She quickly passed through the doorway and, with her hands trembling with fear, slid the latch back into place. Neomina felt a sense of panic fill her soul. Looking around the keep, she realized Sanctum Hall had an eerie air to it—all quiet and vacant; nothing like the warm, welcoming cottage she was accustomed to.

  In fear, she thought about not returning the dagger to the scabbard strapped at her thigh, but then pushed the foolish notion from her head. This was her husband's home and she had every right to be here. At least, she would try to convince herself of that.

  Neomina felt her breath growing ragged, fueled by tension, anxiety and fear. She wanted desperately to calm herself and take a moment to gather her senses. She needed to get to Lazarus and give him her father's note before Roderick realized where she had gone. She recalled the urgency in Gerard's voice and wondered what had troubled him so. Her father's dying words pressed at her soul. In hopes of finding Lazarus, she took off down the main hall. He hadn't come to her in four days and that caused her to raise a few questions. Lazarus never stayed away from her and she wondered what secrets he kept in his lair.

  Sanctum Hall seemed to be an endless puzzle of rooms and corridors all leading to and from the central great hall. Neomina couldn't remember the last time she had felt so frustrated. She needed to find Lazarus and she needed to do so before she lost her nerve. She wasn't used to being among the Vampyre and the notion of being alone among them now unsettled her.

  Her heart stopped as a click echoed through the great hall. Neomina froze. She knew instinctively that the sound was that of a lock snapping open. Seeing no place to hide, she waited in fear in the center of the room. A door on one side of the fireplace slowly creaked opened. Still she waited. However, to Neomina's surprise, no one entered the hall. She approached the door with caution and stepped ever-so-softly across the threshold.

  A spiraling stone staircase led upstairs to the next level of the keep. Neomina craned her neck around the corner to see if friend or foe lingered in the shadows, but no one came forth. She took a step forward into the narrow corridor. Fearing something would come up behind her as she ascended the stairs, she shut the door behind her. In the dimly-lit hall, her shaking fingers searched for the door's lock and secured it.

  Above her, two torches sat perched on the wall, one to be taken and one to remain in place. She reached up and pulled one from its metal hook. Ascending the stairs, Neomina went round and round, following the stone path leading to the next floor. Near the top, she heard the torch down below go out. The thought of someone following her frightened her to the core. A voice called to her from the semi-darkened stairway.

  Neomina.

  She recognized the sensual, velvet-edged voice that now called to her thoughts.

  Come to me.

  He called to her with raw emotion and a sense of urgency filling his tone.

  Neomina ran through the upper corridor and searched for a door, but all that appeared were walls of stone. She let out a cry of anguish as Lazarus’ voice grew louder.

  Feel my heart.

  The repeated beat of a pumping heart echoed through her ears. She closed her eyes and felt his presence nearby.

  Breathe with me, as you are my breath. Feel me, as you are my touch.

  A warm caress cocooned her body. She felt Lazarus’ invisible hands roaming over her as they wandered in a wild, savage manner. She instantly fell victim to his touch.

  Neomina felt her feet rise above the floor as she quivered in pleasure. The wind carried her to him.

  The hidden stone door to Lazarus’ bedchamber opened. She crossed the threshold, floated toward the bed and made her way past the thin veils of silk draping the huge four-poster. Behind them lay Lazarus sleeping.

  His large, muscular body lay under the thinnest of sheets. Neomina rested gently beside him and glided her hand down the length of the fabric, the single obstacle standing between her and Lazarus.

  In one swift movement, Lazarus had her pinned beneath him, his body exposed naked above her. “What in God's name?”

  “I needed to speak with you.”

  He backed off. “You'll be the death of me yet, wife.”

  Neomina straightened her gown. “But you called me, I heard you, felt you...” Her cheeks flushed with the heat of passion.

  “I always call you, Neomina. Not a night goes by or a day for that matter that I don't think of you in my sleep.”

  She reached out a finger and lightly traced the scar on Lazarus’ chest. “You were wounded. What happened? Where have you been?”

  He turned on his side and rested on his elbow. “It is a long story. One I don't think you would really care to hear. Besides, I'm not in the mood to talk about it.”

  “But I want to know what happened. You see, my father—” She fell silent and sat still with tears flowing down her cheeks. “My father is dead.”

  “What?” He looked as if the words had cut through him like a knife. Shock descended over Lazarus’ face. “But I talked to Delacroix only days ago and now you are telling me the man lies dead, wiped from the face of this earth? I simply do not believe it.” Lazarus reached out, cradled Neomina close to him and wrapped his strong arms about her body. It felt good to be held like this again. She wondered how she had survived riding away from him in the woods the other day, angered and annoyed at him. She vowed to never turn away from him again.

  * * * *

  Stirring his blood, the scent of fruit and roses filled his nostrils. He wanted her more than anything right now. To hold her, take her and make her the wife she was meant to be. But Lazarus held back. He sensed the pain in her heart and he'd never dream of being so callous with her.

  She lifted her head and sobbed. “I found him by the sea, fallen from a cliff. He told me to go to you and to get Monty. Those were his last words.” She pulled away from him.

  Wiping the tears from her face, Neomina lifted her gown and pulled out her dagger. She placed it on the bed next to Lazarus and searched deep in the scabbard to retrieve a folded note, then handed it to him.

  “My father gave me this just before he died. No one knows about it. I didn't tell any of the other Trackers. He said it was meant for you and so I have carried out his wish.”

  Lazarus took the note and unfolded the creased parchment. Scribbled words written in black ink stained the paper's yellowed fibers. He read the note, which puzzled his mind.

  The St. John Stake rests in my heart making the Amulet of Christ your destiny. Tell Montgomery that Percival lives.

  He didn't understand. The St. John Stake
and Amulet of Christ were ancient relics now in the care of the Trackers. Why would Delacroix confide in him and not the Trackers? He took a deep breath and tried to make sense of the situation, but time afforded him little benefit. The icy-cold burn of a stake seared his heart as he remembered the night he was wounded. In agony, Lazarus felt the hands of Hell tempt him once more. But he chose to ignore the pain and instead concentrate on his family's legacy. His own grandfather had turned over the relics to his wife, a Tracker by birth, before leaving for a life of isolation during the days of the Roman Empire. Lazarus knew little else of their history. He folded the note and placed it on the table next to his bed.

  “Neomina, I don't know what to say. Your father and I were never close, but we both respected each other. The Trackers suffer a great loss as does the Tribe.”

  She peered up at him and her longing eyes filled with a deep sense of urgency. “Say you will help me find my father's killer. I believe him to be a soul who walks among the Dark Breed.” She paused. She reached out, touched Lazarus’ chest and circled his scar. “Say you will do this for me, please.”

  “Of course. But what makes you think the killer is a Dark Breeder?”

  “Trackers never betray their own kind, so it's simply not possible,” she said. “The only enemies my father would have had would have been among the Vampyre. And I surely do not believe any member of the Tribe would have done such a thing. That leaves only the Dark Breed.”

  The night he had wandered through Tracker territory, Gerard had told him he was there to meet another soul but had never revealed a name. If only he knew who else had roamed the forest that night.

  Neomina eyed him with a cautious stare. “Tell me your story, Lazarus. How were you wounded?”

  “I had an argument with Montgomery and members of the Tribe. In anger, I pushed myself too far. The Vampyre surfaced, Neomina, something that had not happened for many years.” He paused and looked down at her. He thanked God she hadn't seen him like that.

  “I left Sanctum Hall to wander through the woods. The Tribe wouldn't have been safe if I had stayed. Your father found me and used the St. John Stake to quiet the Vampyre within.” He hated having to tell her that. The look in her eyes was obviously painful.

  “Please,” he said, “don't blame me for your father's death. If I had known Gerard was in trouble, I would have defended him without a second thought. I'd never have allowed any harm to come to him.”

  How did you survive? He read Neomina's mind before she spoke.

  “Someone hit me on the head and left me to bleed to death. I was unconscious and therefore could not heal myself. I did not know I was losing so much blood. Monty came searching in the woods with Artemis and Byron. They brought me back here, but never saw your father. Whoever left me to die must have killed him.”

  Neomina sat back on the bed. Her long blonde hair flowed freely over her shoulders and back. She stared at Lazarus as if not sure of what to make of his story.

  He read her mind. She feared him after realizing the dangerous threat of the Vampyre that lurked in his soul and that hurt. He'd find Gerard's killer if it was the last thing he'd ever do and prove to Neomina she meant more to him than did the world.

  “Perhaps you should rest,” he said. “I can have Montgomery prepare your rooms for you. He should be with the Tribe right now. They have been sleeping since the bloodletting to give me back my life force. I had to feed on their blood to keep from dying. To a mortal, I am sure the idea of feasting on the blood of one's own kin sounds bizarre and morbid. But I assure you it is rarely done in such a manner and that it is simply our way. If this frightens you, I would accept you leaving me.”

  “No. I want to stay right here despite what troubles I have dealing with the life of the Vampyre. I want to be with you, Lazarus.”

  His heart jumped. Did she really mean what she said? He searched her face and gazed into her eyes, into her soul. Was she afraid of him? No. She feared Sanctum Hall was all. He knew she thought of him in her sleep, but in a conscious state she feared the Vampyre that ruled his soul. Lazarus read her mind again. Neomina feared what her father had seen that night in him and that was more than he could bear.

  “The bed is all yours.” Lazarus rose and crossed the room. He sensed Neomina's surprise at his action, but refrained from reading her thoughts. He pulled on a pair of breeches that had been left folded over a chair and sat down in the bulky, throne-like seat that once belonged to his grandfather. A dull pain swept through his body as he still ached from the recent hunger that had ravaged him. He decided the chair offered him a good vantage point from which to keep watch over Neomina. With her father now gone, she had only him to protect her.

  He leaned back and stared across the room. His eyes focused on Neomina only to find her fast asleep.

  CHAPTER 10

  The Tribe beckoned him as they rose from their cold stone tombs after three nights’ journey into Hell. After the bloodletting, his kin were weak and in need of rest. Their act of restoring his strength had caused the Tribe to suffer for three days and three nights and to settle into an existence of limbo, or Hell as the Vampyre called it.

  He didn't want to go, to leave Neomina alone sleeping in the upper chamber. But his soul could not resist the call of the Vampyre.

  Lazarus rose from his chair and summoned Montgomery with a thought. The angel appeared and handed Lazarus a suit of clean clothes and a pair of soft leather boots.

  “You have nothing to fear, nephew. Whoever harmed you and killed Gerard will by no means gain entrance to this room. I will keep watch over Neomina and see to her safety. The Tribe needs you and they must be reassured of your ability to lead them.” Monty stood at the foot of the bed and looked much like an armed sentinel prepared for battle.

  The thought of Neomina in danger stirred Lazarus’ soul. His nerves were agitated to begin with and the news of Gerard's death hadn't helped.

  “She must be presented to them, but not tonight,” he stated. “I need time to explain the Tribe to her. As a Tracker, Neomina is accustomed to the Vampyre, but to live among them is an acquired taste.”

  Have you thought about bringing her across?

  Lazarus raked a hand through his hair. He had hopes of avoiding such a situation but, in truth, it was inevitable. He just didn't want to think about it yet.

  “I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

  He turned away from Montgomery and changed his clothes. He dressed in a belted white tunic and black leather breeches. Monty helped him lace up his shirt sleeves, which fit tightly about his lower arms. The soft leather calf-high boots were laced with a wrapping strand of matching leather.

  Dressed, Lazarus walked over to the bed. He stared down at Neomina and longed to hold her. His gaze raked over her body and studied every inch of her soft, warm flesh. Neomina stirred him in ways no other woman ever had and the mere scent of her blood caused his fangs to point and grow. Lazarus ran the tip of his tongue over the deadly points and held his hunger in check. In anguish, he vanished into the night.

  * * * *

  The Tribe sat in silence as he made his way through the great hall to take his seat at the head table. A large, flaming candelabrum illuminated the room from each table and cast an eerie glow about the chamber.

  Lazarus felt uncomfortable amid their stares. He read their minds and knew what each and every last one of them was thinking about him. Their words flooded his head.

  I wonder if he's the same soul as before.

  Can he still defend us against the Dark Breed?

  I smell the scent of a Tracker about his body.

  Lazarus froze. As always, he stopped dead in his tracks exactly where Althea sat.

  “Get used to it, cousin.” He spoke the words through gritted teeth. “My wife will soon take her rightful place as lady of this keep and I don't want a single word from you about the matter. Have I made myself clear on that?”

  Althea jumped up and wrapped her arms around Lazarus’
neck. He stepped away in shock.

  “You're back, Lazarus. Just the way you were before the night in the woods. And, in truth, I wouldn't want you any other way.”

  Byron rose from his seat on the wood bench and extended a hand. “I spoke harsh words to you and should not have said such things. Forgive me.”

  “No offense taken.”

  Lazarus proceeded to walk down the great hall. A vacant seat next to his mother had been left empty especially for him. Lazarus stepped over the bench and lowered his body onto the wood plank.

  He read his mother's thoughts, but didn't want to acknowledge the truth behind them. Octavia knew he had considered her among the souls who might possibly betray him and he hated himself now for having thought such a thing.

  “Forgive me,” he said. “I don't know what came over me to think that my own mother would betray me. I struggled with the thought even then.” He refused to look Octavia in the eye. Humiliation consumed his soul.

  She reached out a hand and gently covered his.

  “You are my son, Lazarus. I am today what I am because I wanted you to live. If betrayal was a part of my desires, the Dark Breed would have hunted you and conquered you as an infant.”

  He pleaded with his eyes. He wanted his mother to know the turmoil he was facing and that at times he was not responsible for his actions. The Vampyre had ruled his soul since he was an infant and he knew no other existence. The memories of being mortal were nothing more than a dream.

  Octavia smiled at him. “A mother's love is unconditional. Forget the other night ever happened. I am glad you are here and have been brought back to me. Now, as for Neomina, you must present her to the Tribe as soon as possible.”

  “I know. But I need a little more time with her. We're not exactly the most welcoming of families, you know.”

  He studied them. The thought of Neomina looking so pale and... He paused his thoughts. To be officially presented to the Tribe, a soul had to be either dead or undead. He had to bring her across to make her one of them and such a notion did not sit well with his soul. Lazarus lost his appetite and felt a churning twist wrench inside his stomach. He knew in time he would be forced to make Neomina one with the Vampyre.