As I parked the car I got my first look at the ship, the Windward, a fifty-two-foot sailing vessel. Low and sleek, it was one of the fastest in my small armada. And dark, deserted-looking...but that meant little. The interior would be lightproof. Until this moment I had believed the Windward tied up at the dock in Ireland, but that was clearly not the case.

I remembered the last time an unexpected arrival had touched this dock. The ghost ship Alabaster had carried Reedrek, who, bringing all the evil he could muster, had slaughtered every mortal and immortal on board. This ship still carried its cargo.

The dread I'd felt at Tilly's redoubled. There were vampires aboard; I could feel the itch of kindred on my skin. Strange, yet familiar.

So it begins.

Unfamiliar laughter echoed in my mind as a movement in the shadows near the dry dock crane drew my attention. I drew in a long breath and gathered my power. If this was a trap, I'd already slipped my head through the noose. Just as well. All this waiting and planning had been a damp blanket over my urgency for revenge. The image of Iban dying, rotting away, seared my thoughts.

Cold blood fueled by fury settled into my jaws, extending my fangs, bringing the metallic taste of blood.

One of the shadows moved slowly toward me. "William? Sir?" a hesitant voice called out.

It took a few seconds for my blood l.u.s.t to recede far enough to recognize the figure. "Lamar-Werm?"

He stepped toward me. His relaxed smile seemed out of place. "What the devil are you doing here?" Werm couldn't be the vampire I'd sensed.

"I wanted to show my friends the docks." Werm shrugged. "But only one of 'em was brave enough to come along." He turned back to the shadow he'd left in the dark. "Come on out. I want you to meet-"

He intended to say, my sire, but I stopped him with a warning jolt of displeasure.

"-M-Mr. Thorne, the owner."

The shadow coalesced, pushed off from his casual, leaning stance, and sauntered toward us. Though dressed in the same rebellious fashion that Werm and his friends affected, this goth was different. He radiated anger and satisfaction. And he wasn't a mortal posing as a vampire: He was a vampire. Why had Werm neglected to mention that fact? This one was not afraid.

"Pleas'd to meet you at last," he said, exaggerating his c.o.c.kney accent, making the pleasantry sound like a threat. When he extended a hand to me I saw the cross-shaped scar, burned into the flesh of his upper chest and throat like a brand. Marking him for all to see.

Revulsion ran through me but I covered it and met his hand halfway, in case he had plans beyond a simple human greeting. His voice had awakened the yearning for home-for England-I'd put away long ago. This vampire was no fledgling, even though he looked to be in his early twenties. He felt old, well connected. Yet something inside him was broken. Touching his skin telegraphed a jumble of mixed messages. Hate, pain, hunger...and love for one- He pulled away before I did. The feeling of familiarity persisted. "Why haven't you come to me sooner?" I'd been so busy with the unusual numbers of vampires in the area that I 'd fallen down on my personal vigilance. I'd been forced to depend on human spies. I should have paid more attention when Werm told me about- "I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't catch your name."

The stranger's smile looked more like a snarl. "I didn't give it. I like yours though, eh? Thorne-a posh English name, good enough for a king."

"There are no kings here in America," I said, just to prove that he couldn't rile me unless I wished to be riled. The screeching of tires on cobblestone interrupted our barely begun sparring match. A car skidded through the front gate and slid sideways in the gravel of the boatyard. I didn't need to turn to know who had arrived. The familiar roar of Jack's Corvette echoed among the buildings. It was useless to choose between anger and admiration. He was here now.

Werm, however, was beginning to look a little green at the gills.

"Hey," he said to his new friend. "Maybe we should hit the road-go over to Colonial and-"

Dust floated through the air around us as Jack's automobile came to a stop.

Jack I winced as I lost traction and scattered gravel. There went a brand-new paint job, but that was the least of my worries. Over Eleanor's protests I'd locked her in William's vault with Reyha and Deylaud and I'd been busy getting Sullivan settled in at the garage when Olivia called me on the office phone.

I could tell by the sound of her voice she was frantic, on the verge of hysteria, barely able to get the words out. "Hugo..." she'd begun. "I have reason to believe he's on his way to Savannah by boat. In fact, he could be there right now."

I felt myself go light -headed for a moment as the implications sank in. I slammed down the receiver and raced to the 'Vette, leaving Sullivan to introduce himself to Huey. If he had his druthers, he'd probably choose to pa.s.s the time with the rapidly rotting Iban rather than the already rotted Huey. I'm not sure who smelled worse. But I wasn't going to disobey William's orders again by letting Sullivan escape. Especially not now. I locked the garage from the outside.

On the way to the river I replayed the phone conversation with Olivia over and over in my mind. One of the missing spies whom they'd written off as dead had made her way back from Russia, severely damaged like the others. The spy had infiltrated Hugo's clan, but just when she thought they'd accepted her, they set a trap and tortured her till she spilled everything she knew about the Bonaventures-especially what she knew about William and me.

"Did she tell them about the voodoo blood?" I asked Olivia.

"No. She couldn't tell them. She didn't know," Olivia had a.s.sured me.

Thank G.o.d for small favors. I stomped on the brakes as close to the dock as I could get, vaulted out of the convertible, and raced to William's side. He was already standing in front of the d.a.m.ned ship. I had to get to him before they did, haul him aside or preferably away altogether. I couldn't let him face this. Not until he was prepared. Not until I'd warned him.

Not until I'd confessed.

I made it to his side just as the cabin door opened and figures emerged onto the shadowy dock. Whatever we were in for, we were already outnumbered.

"William-I have to tell you-" I froze in midsentence. The vampire I'd seen in my dream the night I was with Connie was standing with Werm on the other side of William. The punk-spiked reddish hair and the grisly scar at his throat were just like I 'd seen in my dream-my prophetic dream, as it turned out.

"You're Hugo...?" I said, hoping to be wrong. He was grinning broadly toward the group of vampires on the boat. How in the name of h.e.l.l had he slipped into Savannah without us knowing?

One man stepped out in front of the group of vampires on deck.

"No, mate, that's Hugo," the punked vamp said.

"Captain Thorne, I presume," Hugo said. He was tall and powerfully built. Golden hair hung to the collar of his long coat and he had a neatly trimmed reddish beard. He looked the way I'd always imagined a Viking would look, only cleaner and without the shield and b.l.o.o.d.y sword. This version felt a lot more dangerous than your average Thor. c.r.a.p. My dream had been completely wrong. That's the trouble with prophecies. They're harder to figure out than French movies with subt.i.tles.

"You have me at a disadvantage," William said coolly. Even I could tell he didn't mean it.

"William, I-" I tried again.

Not now, Jack, he said to my mind.

"But-"

In a booming voice, the vampire answered, "I'm Hugo. I'm certain you've heard my name before."

"I need to warn you," I said, grabbing William's arm.

It's a little late for that, don't you think? William kept his attention on the stranger.

"No, you don't understand. It's not him, it's-"

Hugo was approaching the gangplank. A woman, shielding her face with the hood of her cloak, stepped forward and followed him. Two humans stayed where they were on deck.

The foolish hope I'd nursed on the breakneck ride over here-that she hadn't come with him, that for some reason she'd stayed behind-shriveled and died.

You know how time slows down in your dreams? And events happen you're powerless to stop because you're paralyzed?

You're unable to speak, unable to move. You're only able to watch in horror as your nightmare unfolds in slow motion, frame by agonizing frame. That was what was happening now. I couldn't make myself speak.

She took another step forward and the mist was back, just as in my dream of the punk vamp. It rose off the river like something alive and with its own mind. A security light on a pole above the dock shone down on her, forming an unholy halo around her head.

The corona and her flowing cloak made her look like a Madonna in one of those Renaissance paintings. "No, I don't believe I have heard of you," William lied. Evidently master vampires could lie to each other without fear of retribution.

"No matter, my...friend." Hugo waved his hand dismissively. "My home is on the other side of the world. Under normal circ.u.mstances our kin might never have met."

If William recognized the woman yet, he didn't let on. "To what do we owe the honor of your visit, then?" He'd reverted to the old-fashioned form of speech he sometimes used with other really old blood drinkers.

Hugo was on solid ground now. I could feel the tension in William as Hugo walked closer, hand extended. "I came as soon as I heard," he answered, then smiled a feral smile, not bothering to hide his impressive set of fangs. His deep voice made me wonder what else he had an impressive set of.

William shook hands with him. Although all seemed normal enough on the surface, even a mortal would've been able to pick up on the strain. This was what humans called a real tension convention. With my heightened perception, I felt like someone was busting up the sidewalk under my feet with a jackhammer.

"Since you heard what?" William asked. My sire had always had the best poker face I'd ever seen and it didn't desert him now.

Hugo laughed like William had made a very funny private joke. He released William's hand and clasped his shoulder, briefly patting it in a gesture that looked like genuine affection. "Why, since I heard that some brave blood drinker of Reedrek's bloodline had the courage and strength to vanquish him for all eternity," he said. "To the good of us all."

"Should I a.s.sume he was your sire as well?" William carefully maintained his neutral expression. I noticed he used was rather than is. "How do you know what happened? Surely your psychic connection to your sire is not strong enough to communicate over so many thousands of miles."

Hugo chuckled again. "Yes, Reedrek was my sire as well. As to how I knew, let 's just say it's a small world. What is it the humans say? Good news travels fast."

William forced a smile. "Indeed," he said. "So you're not here to avenge him?"

Hugo's booming laughter seemed scarier than his show of fang. "Heavens no. I came to make sure the old devil is truly dead."

Seeing an opening, I grabbed William by the shoulder again, but he shook me off. The other vampire ignored me and made a half turn toward the woman. His expression changed into something I can't describe other than to say it was evil and somehow...

predatory. I tensed and felt William do the same.

"I believe you know my mate," Hugo said, and reached out to the woman in the cloak.

The look of confusion on my sire's face made something die inside my already dead heart. I could see all the progress we 'd made-him finally treating me more or less like an equal, us learning to trust each other after so many decades-going straight down the drain.

"I'm sorry, William," I said. "I didn't mean for this to happen. Not like this."

He looked at me and blinked, still not understanding. It was too late to warn him now. I could only apologize and hope he killed me quick and didn't make me linger.

The woman stepped up beside Hugo and he encircled her with his arm as if she was his possession. She reached up with both hands and gently slid the cowl of the hood off of the back of her head to reveal the rich gold of her hair. I took in a deep, sharp breath. She looked just like I remembered her from my vision of the slaughter of William's family. I shifted my attention to William's face. I didn't really want to see his reaction but it was like when you come upon a grisly car wreck while driving along, minding your own business. You don't want to look because you know the sight will sicken you. But you can't help it. "h.e.l.lo, Mother," said the young one standing next to Werm, the one I'd hated on sight in my dream and hated even more now.

He'd been in on this from the beginning. Then his words sank in and the rest of the story hit me like a thunderbolt. I remembered my most recent dream, the one where William had saved him from my ripping, tearing fangs.

This one's mine, William had said in the dream. I thought he'd meant to take the kill for himself but that wasn't it.

I want your life. I want your sire. They should have been mine, the punk had claimed before I'd beaten him to the pavement and William had saved him from my murderous rage.

This was the blood of William's mortal blood, not a product of his demonic nature, like me. This was William's true son. No wonder I'd instinctively made him as such a threat to me and to my place in my world. I looked back and forth between the woman and the son. How much worse could this possibly get? No, don't ask that, I chided myself. Call me a pessimist, but I'm a firm believer that there's nothing so bad it can't get any worse, especially where vampires are concerned.

So much for poker faces. William's face registered the total shock of a man whose world has just changed forever. More changes would ripple outward like the ringing echo of a hammer on steel. Me, Melaphia, and most of all, Eleanor would all suffer the shock waves from this revelation.

"William," the blond woman whispered, her eyes veiled as if to hide her true emotions from the vampire who had her in his grasp.

"Diana," William breathed.

Ten.

William Humans have a ridiculous saying: What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

It's a lie.

What doesn't kill you might just as easily make you wish you were dead. Or make you yearn to kill someone else. I'm a master at hiding my intentions and my feelings. But here, standing at the end of night staring at the face I 'd mourned for over five hundred years, I had no feelings to hide. Stunned is too modest a word, and vampires are rarely stymied by emotion. After all, killing is our business, our purpose, and our sport.

In this case, however, my own weakness-the black hole of my long existence-literally paralyzed me. There was a great buzzing in my ears. If I could have raised my arm, I had no idea whether my numb fingers would draw Diana forward into an embrace or my fist would plunge into Hugo's chest. My hands spasmed and I almost felt the weight and wetness of his heart as I squeezed it into pulp. Anger before love. Killing before...forgiving? Had Diana known about me for these centuries and stayed away? Did she blame me for- Will.

Suddenly I couldn't breathe. If I didn't move I might simply collapse. The great rebel leader, William Thorne, killed by his own love...or hate. Impossible to separate them at the moment. From an infinite distance I heard myself speak. An amazing thing, that, since I would've sworn there was no air left in my frozen lungs.

"I would advise you to stay on the ship today until we can make arrangements for you. I 'll send word tomorrow after sunset."

Then I turned, put one foot in front of the other, and walked away. If Hugo or one of his kin had shoved a spear through my back at that moment, I would have thanked them.

I felt and heard Jack trying to get my attention. I could barely focus on his face. He should've known better than to step in front of me. Surrounded by treachery on all fronts I lashed out, knocking him to the ground.

"Live or die," I snarled. "I don't care. Stay away from me."

I walked, tempted by the too easy solution of simply sitting down on a bench in the closest square and waiting for the sun.

My son...alive. A blood drinker...like me. What horrific sin had I committed to merit this? What coincidence had brought him the fate he'd escaped as a boy? He'd grown to manhood and then-Reedrek must have gone back for him, completing the task of enslaving my entire family.

Diana. The sight of her had struck me dumb with joy. Joy that was immediately deadened by betrayal. I stumbled and had to stop for a moment and find a wall to support me. The monstrous flare of hate and anger inside me nearly drove me to the ground. Doubled over, I searched for air. The dank air of tombs and old bones filled my lungs, calling my name.

I had to go on. To walk, to breathe. Otherwise I'd never know the final, bitter truth of all the ways Reedrek had won.

The next time I took stock of my progress, I was standing outside the locked gates of Colonial. Three more blocks and I would be home. I would be- Eleanor's worry touched my mind amid the chaos. I turned my head in her direction, but she seemed as remote to my existence as the moon. If I was truly cursed then all those around me were doomed as well. How could I ever touch Eleanor again when Diana- The vein of agony I'd patched and hidden opened, spilling forth. A wail rose in my throat and I had no strength to beat it back.

Gripping the iron gates I looked toward the silent heaven and let out the howl of a dying wolf, a guttural sound of the drowning of all hope. Ancient pain blended with new in a sound so piercing no human ears could withstand it. I felt the iron bars of the fence bend under my hands.

My family had just been murdered again in front of my eyes. The facts that they still lived, that I still lived, were sources of woe, not relief. My wail set free the caged animal I'd tamed for so long. Rational thought fled. Within the blink of an eye I vaulted the fence. Instead of hiding my existence, I would flaunt it. Fury drove me, first to the dead. I wanted to kill them all over again. Ghede, loa of the dead, indeed. No entreating ceremony, this. My hate needed purpose, warfare, destruction. This moldy home where the lucky dead rested in peace would be my first battleground.

I took off my jacket and set it aside, then rolled up the sleeves of my shirt. The first tomb I saw belonged to John Martingale, Presbyterian minister, 1809 to 1862. I brought my fist down on the stone. "Wake up, old John. Fire, fear, foe! The devil has finally come for his due." Within a few seconds the stone lay in shards on the gra.s.s. I reached inside and scrabbled among the dust until I found the unfortunate John's skull. "Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. " I tucked the skull under my arm and proceeded to the next grave marker.

The sky was overcast with drizzling rain, but growing lighter. I could feel the nagging threat of sunrise under my skin by the time I reached the other side of the cemetery. Humans were stirring. Car lights reflected on the damp pavement: off to work, to the next day in the futile few years allotted to the living. I looked back once along the path of havoc I 'd wreaked on stone and earth and bones but felt little more than warmed up. With poor John's skull in one hand, I made for the tunnels.

"Have I mentioned this city is mine?" I said, to the wary occupants of the nearest warmer-than-the-winter-air tunnel. I bowed to the three men and one woman, the hopeless and homeless taking shelter from the rain. "William Thorne, at your service. And this- " I held up worthy John's skull. "-is Mr. John Martingale, one of the ill.u.s.trious former religious leaders of the city. " I held the attention of all but one in the group, he being fast asleep. "I daresay brother John did more by living and dying than the four of you put together."

The single female of the group scooted back closer to the men. Better the devil you know...They were beginning to be afraid.

Good.

I moved closer and offered the skull to the smaller of the two males. "Would you hold this for a moment?"