Ten Miles South of Tucson.

Niccolo's dark eyes studied the state-of-the-art GPS inside the sleek black stretch-van filled with eight of the queen's finest warriors.

I must buy one of these fascinating "car" machines, he thought to himself. Just as soon as I learn how to drive.

Dozens of compact digital monitors tiled one side of the van's interior. Niccolo had never seen so many gadgets and flashing lights, all just so they could remotely observe an abandoned military hanger about a quarter mile away. In the good ol' days, we just hid behind a bush.

A faint sherbet orange tinted the horizon, and a lonely tumbleweed bounced across the dusty road sprinkled with garbage. This rundown, isolated warehouse district was the perfect place for a rabid vampire coven to thrive and go unnoticed.

For another twenty minutes, anyway.

Soon, the foul bastards would be settling down for their naps. A perfect time to attack. Niccolo and his men had accounted for all but one of the coven: their leader. But instead of feeling anxious, he found himself welcoming the time to reflect as they waited. Since his return to duty, and to this new, strange world, he'd had little quality "me-time," as modern humans now called it. And he was going to need a whole hell of a lot of that if he were going to digest the massive transformation the world had undergone.

Big shock number one: over ten thousand, vile, bloodthirsty Obscuros now roamed the earth.

Big shock number two: the Obscuro population exploded three centuries ago, about the time he'd vanished.

Perhaps it's not so unbelievable that the world would go to merda without me. It's not as if the queen could command the army. She can't even tie her own shoes.

The most puzzling account, however, was Bloody Big-Shock Number Three: during his absence, the gods had created a new race specifically dedicated to killing Obscuros. They called themselves Demilords.

Ridiculous! As if I could be replaced!

Nevertheless, everyone spoke of their unstoppable strength and ruthlessness. It was said they could take out any vampire, that they'd kill anyone who got in their way. No rules, no Pact holding them back.

Lucky bastards!

But...unstoppable? I'd have to see it to believe it. Lazy seems more befitting. Niccolo saw few signs of these so-called mighty warriors. Reports of new covens, dozens of them, were coming daily. Where the hell are these Demilords?

On the bright side, a tiny part of him felt satisfied to be back in the saddle-leading the queen's army, even if only temporarily. Soon, the prophecy would be fulfilled, and he would be a free man.

But will you be able to turn your back on the world? Obscuros will still exist after you're no longer the General. And who better to extinguish them than you?

True. He was damned good at it. And yes, the world had changed as Helena rightly pointed out-women worked and led their households, giant metal birds flew in the sky, and this thing called electricity powered everything under the sun-but killing these cretins was something familiar and noble. He was born to squelch evil. Specifically, Obscuros. Just like my warriors...

Through the rear view mirror, he proudly glanced at his men in their black military-style jumpsuits and headsets.

He smiled to himself. Modern technology certainly was a nice perk in these times. For example, he always had the unique gift of sifting long distance-never knew why-but this used to do him little good when he required an army to take out a coven on the other side of the planet. Months were lost to logistics.

In this new age, everything had changed. Now there were planes and cars to transport his army. Now they had video conferencing and software to share interactive maps and battle plans.

This is...pure awesome.

"Sir," Sentin said, "we have confirmation. Franc, their leader, is on his way. The other members of the coven are in the warehouse, all accounted for."

Sentin, with jet black cropped hair, was his new junior lieutenant from Italy who'd been turned only seventy years earlier during what humans called World War II. Sentin, who'd been fighting with the English, was barely twenty when Viktor-his right hand and best comrade for over a millennium-found him after a bomb exploded near his bunker. Sentin was braver than most vampires ten times his age. He also had a sense of humor; something rare in the vampire world.

"Ready, sir?" Sentin said.

Niccolo nodded and strapped his swords to his back. Viktor glowered from the driver's seat. Although he was an ancient Viking, Viktor wasn't "old school" as the younger vampires called it. Viktor embraced everything modern, and that included automatic handguns with custom made wooden bullets and quirky sayings like, "That's right, bitches! Who's your bad-dy?"

"Stay close. Remember, the Obscuros have new tricks," Viktor lectured.

Niccolo shrugged. "Buon. I'd expect nothing less. Makes for a more challenging fight, does it not?"

Viktor shook his head. "Not."

"Bingo!" Sentin hollered. Everyone's focus shifted to a monitor. A tall man with slicked back blond hair, wearing a black tailored suit, glided down the dusty sidewalk with a young woman in each arm. From the look of their attire, they'd just been out at what Viktor called a nightclub-a place where single humans went to listen to loud music, dance, overindulge in spirits, and find sexual partners for the evening. To Niccolo's shock, even the educated females from good families partook in such social activities in these times.

Niccolo's thoughts quickly flew to the angelic, feisty Helena for the fifteenth time that evening. It was increasingly difficult to stay focused. In fact, the Helena-channel constantly played in the back of his mind.

Was that normal for a vampire to feel for his mate? He craved her. He wanted to learn her, to savor her scent and bathe in her beauty. But he couldn't. Not yet. Not without derailing the prophecy.

Yesterday, when he'd brought her to their new home, they'd only spent a few moments in the same room before he had to run like a weak, pathetic fool lacking control.

The sound of Viktor clearing his throat startled him.

"One moment," Niccolo snarled.

"I think we've waited long enough," Viktor growled under his breath.

He understood Viktor's true meaning. Niccolo's absence had been particularly hard on Viktor, especially having had to deal with the queen on his own. Viktor's hide was still chapped-as they liked to say now-even though he understood Niccolo had not intentionally turned his back on him.

"Any day now?" Viktor prodded.

"S, s. Do not get your..." Niccolo paused to recall the exact phrase. "Get your balls in a bunch."

Viktor shook his head. "Panties."

Niccolo frowned. "Why would you wear panties? Aren't those for females?"

Viktor growled. "Can we go now?"

"Yes, but I insist you tell me more about your man-panties later."

The men in the van chuckled under their breath. Viktor's body tensed as though he was about to lunge for Niccolo.

Niccolo shrugged. He supposed Viktor was acting so irritable because he was anxious to get the job done. This is what he always admired about the man; when it came to killing, he was all about efficiency and execution. That's why Viktor was his most trusted friend and still had a head; no one talked to Niccolo that way, except Viktor. Indeed, Viktor was more like a brother. He was also the reason the queen's army hadn't completely gone to shit during Niccolo's "vacation."

Niccolo straightened his back. "On the count of three. One. Two...." He sifted to the warehouse entrance and then entered the dark, dank building. His senses flared to life immediately. The pupils of his dark eyes dilated on command, picking up every shadow, every movement. His lungs pumped only enough air to detect the smell of his enemies-Obscuros.

He slipped to the side of the door and hid behind a large, wooden crate. There was no noise inside the abandoned warehouse except for the nearly silent gusts from the air being displaced as his men swept in behind him, taking their positions. Another vampire would mistake their movements for a mouse skittering across the floor.

Niccolo waited the agreed six seconds, sampling the scents in the air, before deciding the ground floor was secure. Most likely, the Obscuros were in the basement.

Niccolo gave the all clear and motioned for the men to begin searching silently for a door or stairs.

Within seconds, Viktor blew into the air. The signal. To the untrained ear, it was the wind whistling through the gaps under a door.

The men moved with blurring speed toward Viktor and fell in behind him.

Niccolo caught the sound that had drawn Viktor's attention: the low rumble of men talking and...crying?

Niccolo shrugged at Viktor. No doubt it was odd, but what were they going to do? They were warriors, and whatever was causing a bunch of grown Obscuro males to cry and...talk, well, they could handle it. He hoped.

Niccolo held up his palm, signaling for the other men to stay put. He quickly found a set of narrow cement stairs and sifted part of the way down, remaining out of sight as he listened to the conversation and whimpering.

One man, who the others referred to as Luis, was trying to defend his actions. "But as hard as I try, my victims only laugh at me when I show myself," he sobbed. "How can any self-respecting vampire face himself knowing his food doesn't take him seriously?"

There was a low rumble of agreement from several voices in the room.

"Luis!" Another male barked. "How many times do I have to tell you? Image is everything! You dress like a biology professor and speak like Mr. Rogers. Of course, they don't fear you! You're there to kill them, not....not-teach them the ABC's!"

Another whimper escaped from Luis' mouth. "I know. I know," he whined. "But I can't bring myself to growl or wear leather pants. It's just not...me."

No. Clearly he's not cut out for such manly clothing. He'd be a disgrace throughout the lands to all vampires and other supernatural bad boys alike, thought Niccolo.

"Luis,"-was it the leader, Franc, speaking?-"being an Obscuro is an honor. And if you're not going to uphold our ways, then you'll be demoted to a coffin boy or, if lucky, my manicurist."

Niccolo winced. That sounds low. A coffin boy was the equivalent of a human's pool boy, but without the sexy connotation. And a vampire's manicurist...well, let's just say that if there were a Vampire Dirty Jobs show-Niccolo had watched a lot of television recently to acclimate quickly-being a vampire's manicurist would be right up there with vampire dry cleaner.

"No. Please, give me one more chance. I beg you. I can be evil. I can do it!" Luis argued.

"All right, but I want to hear you growl like you mean it this time," said their leader impatiently. "I want to hear you bring terror to my ears-like we showed you."

"Grrrr. I'm here to suck your blood," Luis said sheepishly.

Franc growled. "No! That's not it at all. Say it like you really mean it! Grrr! I'm going to fucking drink your blood!"

Evil vampire lessons? Niccolo crept up the stairs, shaking his head. He'd never heard such an oddity. He signaled the men to follow him outside. As soon as they'd gathered around, he told them what he'd heard, but instead of being disgusted by the undignified behavior, they looked at each other shamefully.

"Am I missing something?" Niccolo whispered. Several awkward moments passed. "I demand you tell me."

Viktor whispered, "We-um-role play, too. It's part of our HPT process."

Were these vampire soldiers off their undead rockers? "HPT? What is this?"

"High Performance Teams. It's a technique to build trust, motivate, and increase output."

"You know, sir," one of the younger male vampires cut in. "We're only as strong as our weakest link."

Niccolo's men grumbled in agreement, nodding.

Oh, for bloody heaven's sake! What had the world of ruthless warrior vampires come to? Where were the ethics from the days of old? Only the strong survive. Dog eat dog. Carpe diem!

Niccolo shrugged. "I cannot deny how well the team works together. I must look for the golden lining."

"That's silver, Sir," whispered Sentin.

Niccolo frowned. This new English was very confusing. Any self-respecting vampire would want his coffin lined with gold-it was worth far more than silver. "Very well. I do not believe in coffins, anyway...On my count, we rush the room and take them out. I heard twelve voices below, evenly distributed throughout the room. Watch out for the humans they brought in earlier. They might be used as shields."

The men nodded. Niccolo counted down. Then they rushed back into the building toward the stairs. The room was dark, except for a few small candles burning in the center of the room. The two women lay in a dead heap in the corner, and the Obscuros, including Franc, were sitting in a circle on the floor. Something about that visual disgusted Niccolo's inner warrior. Men talking, sitting on pillows...sharing? He shivered down to his alpha male core.

The Obscuros sprang to their feet, and the entire room instantly converted into a tornado of vampires whirling through the air, trying to outmaneuver one another. Blood splattered in every direction and then turned into a gray sticky ash. They were no match for Niccolo's trained men. The room filled with clouds of dust as the Obscuros were shot with wooden bullets or beheaded with Niccolo's sharp sword. Suddenly, Niccolo heard a cough and a struggle.

"Don't-don't move. Or, I'll hu-hurt him," someone stuttered.

Niccolo recognized the voice. It was Luis, the one who'd been speaking early. He was likely just some poor man who became a vampire against his will and never knew he had a choice to be good or bad.

Niccolo held out his hands. "Put the knife down, Luis. You don't want to hurt him. We're good vampires. You're good, too. I heard you speaking earlier. Drop the knife, and you can work with us."

"No!" Luis began to cry again. "You'll just make me your coffin boy! And, there's no such thing as good vampires!"

"Listen," Niccolo reasoned. "I'm over thirteen hundred years old. Viktor, who you're holding there, is almost as old as I am and nearly impossible to kill. He has also been my friend for ten centuries. I would never allow you to hurt him and live. You have no way out, but to surrender."

Niccolo saw an easy smile flash across Viktor's face. Viktor was allowing Luis to hold the knife to his throat and giving him a chance to back down.

"Look, Luis. I'm going to count to three." Niccolo smiled calmly at the man. "Then you're going to drop the knife and come with us."

Niccolo saw Luis' free hand reach in his pocket. Bloody inferno. "One, two-"

Niccolo rushed Luis with such speed that the man never saw the sword swipe toward his neck. Luis' head fell to the floor and exploded in a cloud of gray dust.

Viktor shook his head as he looked at the remains and noticed a gun lying there. He picked it up and inspected the bullets. "Wooden. I think that dude was really going to off me."

Niccolo sheathed his sword on his back. He wasn't sure what Viktor expected him to do. Clearly the protocols between males had changed over the last three centuries. Niccolo wanted to be the great leader he'd always been; but this was uncharted territory, completely out of his comfort-zone.

A true leader shows no fear when his men need him to be strong. Niccolo closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Viktor, gently patting him on the back. "There, there, my brother. I am here for you."

Viktor stopped breathing and Niccolo suddenly heard the other men whispering, shocked. Perhaps even disgusted.

"Niccolo? Why are you...hugging me?"

Niccolo pushed away quickly, his face burned red-hot. "I thought you might need comfort. You know, like those other..." Niccolo grumbled under his breath and swept up the stairs, barely escaping the humiliation of this men bursting into hysterical laughter.

He sifted off to the van, grumbling and growling under his breath. "Insolent, unappreciative..." He suddenly caught the flicker of movement on the monitor.

Niccolo drew his sword and sifted back into the warehouse. Viktor and the men were emerging from the stairwell still roaring with laughter just as a shadow from the darkness appeared behind Viktor.

Niccolo shoved Viktor out of the way just as a thin shining blade barreled down on Viktor's neck. Niccolo kicked the attacking vampire and watched him fall backward. Niccolo thrust his sword underneath the male, severing his head and turning him instantly to ash.

"Ha! Who's the real warrior now?" Niccolo bellowed as he marched out of the building, chin held high. "That's right, bitches!"