"Lorelei says you're having difficulty accessing the Senior's memories of Ruha."

Well, at least he'd left the subtext behind. Text was always easier to deal with. "You think talking to William will help?"

"You've let this thing with William go on way too long, Julian. Get it past you. Particularly if it's keeping you from Ruha."

Julian wanted to argue, would have done anything to avoid the excruciatingly awkward confrontation he knew any heart-to-heart with William would be. But he couldn't justify cutting himself any slack, not with what he was demanding from the others. "All right," he said. "I'll talk to him. But it'll have to wait. We need to talk-all of us. I've been having dreams."

Lucien eyed him questioningly. "There's no time like the present."

He pushed the door open, and Julian followed him into Aanu's room.

"William," Lucien said in English. "Desist for a bit. We need to pow-wow." Then, to Aanu, he added, "The three of us need to talk.

There are things you need to know."

Aanu sighed, obviously relieved. "This language of yours is very difficult. I need to rest, anyway."

William laughed. "I have to say, I'm getting something of a headache, as well. You're not the easiest student." He touched Aanu's hand. "I'll come back later."

Julian noted that, as William slid past him and out of the room, he avoided his gaze.

When the door closed behind William, Lucien gave him a wink. In English, he said, "I thought he and Aanu might hit it off."

"What are you saying?" Aanu said, his voice edgy. He'd seemed more at ease in William's presence.

"Nothing," said Lucien. "I was just being rude." He settled into a chair. "Now-we need to talk about Ialdaboth."

Aanu nodded. "Tell me what I need to know."

Julian spun out the story as best he could, fighting through the second-hand memories that allowed him to speak Aanu's language.

Lucien stepped in from time to time, correcting his word choice or phrasing. Aanu listened attentively, becoming more and more grim as the story unfolded.

"Do we even know for sure what we'll be facing?" he asked finally. "Ialdaboth has been in hiding. Do we know why?"

Lucien steepled his fingers under his chin. "I killed him in Romania.

It will have left him weak. He's regathering his strength."

"I've seen it in my dreams," Julian added. "I can feel the power he's gathering. Dark power. Death power."

"You should have killed him, Lucien, when the opportunity was there," said Aanu. "He was weak after you attacked him-the two of you together might have been able to destroy him."

Julian shook his head. "We didn't know where he was. Eventually, I realized he'd gone underground. But even with the connection he and I seem to have developed, I don't know exactly where he is."

"You should have hunted him down."

Aanu seemed to know an awful lot about what should have been done, Julian thought, especially for someone who had been dead for the last four thousand years of plot development. Biting back his irritation, he said, "That would have left this place too vulnerable. It was not an acceptable risk."

"We did everything we reasonably could," Lucien put in. "We took the information we gathered in Romania, gathered additional information from Rafael and Lilith. I believe that if we wanted to, we could invade Ialdaboth's stronghold directly and expect a high degree of success."

Aanu shrugged. "Then we should do it."

"No, we shouldn't." Julian's voice was firm and grim. "'A high degree of success' isn't enough. We have to eradicate him completely, before he destroys everything."

A moment of silence passed, during which Julian endured Aanu's judgmental regard.

Finally, slowly, Aanu said, "The Dark Children have existed longer than there have been vampires. Ialdaboth has existed as long as Belial and myself. Why is it so important now that he be eliminated?"

"The power Ialdaboth wields is different than it was in the past,"

said Julian. "It's stronger and much darker. This argument-this war- has become more than a mere philosophical conflict. It's good against evil. What he grows inside him could destroy everything good that ever existed. And he intends to do exactly that. We have to stop him."

"He feeds off evil," Lucien added. "The same way you and I feed off positive emotions, he feeds from negative ones. From hatred, war, pain. He foments it and teaches his children to foment it. So not only do they feed and kill without remorse, they cause as much pain as possible, and when they see an opportunity to cause mass chaos, they take it."

Aanu nodded. "He was sliding even four thousand years ago. I should have known something like this would be the result." He mulled a moment, then looked at Lucien. "Is it even possible to kill him?"

Lucien nodded. "I believe so, yes."

"Ialdaboth and Ruha conquered me, but I wasn't destroyed. As you see."

"Maybe if they had cut you into pieces instead of leaving your skeleton intact?" Julian offered. It was a quandary, he had to admit, but there had to be some way to kill these creatures, these First Demons.

Otherwise what had been the point of his own transformation?

"There has to be more to it than that," said Lucien. He regarded Julian narrowly. "It has to do with you, with what you've become. It has to."

"Him?" Aanu protested. "He's just a vampire. And only eight centuries old."

Lucien shook his head. "No, Julian is more than a vampire. He drinks no blood, hasn't for over two hundred years. He eats solid food and can live in the sunlight. And his lover is pregnant with twins. His biological children."

Clearly astonished, Aanu looked at Julian. "But how-"

Julian started to reply, but Lucien waved him off.

"We'll tell you all about it later, when we have time. What's important now is that Julian can do one more thing vampires can't do. He can restore life to the mortally wounded. And we have yet to see the extent of his powers."

Comprehension washed over Aanu's features. "The one who feeds from life without diminishing it," he murmured.

"Yes," Lucien replied. "We wrote it in the Book. And the Book has the other answers we need, as well, I'm certain. But so much of it has been lost."

"The Book," Aanu repeated. He frowned, thoughtful. "There is something. I know what it is, what we need to know."

"Please tell us," said Julian.

Aanu shook his head. "I can't. Not yet. But I will." He stood. "I have it here, somewhere in my head. I have to go think until I find it."

He went to the door. "Give me time."

Julian watched him go, then looked at Lucien. "That's something, then."

Lucien nodded. "Let's hope so." He slapped Julian's shoulder lightly, encouraging. "I'll talk to William. He'll be by to see you in a couple of hours. Then I think we'll be well on the way to getting this thing done."

Julian paced his living room, waiting for William, nervous to the point of nausea.

It was his own fault, of course, that he was so distraught over what was about to transpire. He'd put it off far too long. He should have dealt with it right up front. But he'd had other things on his mind, and it had been easier to shove the hard things aside, hoping they would remain irrelevant.

He should have known better. After eight-hundred-plus years of living, he at least should have learned that things he tried to ignore eventually came back to bite him in the ass.

Briefly, he wondered how much Lucien had told William-if William had some idea what was coming, or if this was all going to be a horrible revelation for him. Julian wasn't sure which would be worse.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the knock finally came.

Opening the door, he found William on the other side, looking even more nervous than he was.

"May I come in?" William asked.

Julian stepped aside. "Of course."

William eyed him warily as he entered. "Lucien told me. Some of it, anyway." He stopped, swung around to face him. "Why the hell didn't you talk to me about this a long time ago?"

Julian gave a short laugh. "Good question. I was just asking myself the same thing." He gathered himself, studying William. William frowned. The light caught the lenses of his glasses, making it difficult for a moment to see his eyes. "Have a seat," Julian said.

William sat, still watching him with obvious discomfort. "How much?" he asked cautiously. "How much do you know?"

With a sigh, Julian settled into another chair. "Everything. He gave me his memories with his blood."

William's eyes widened, then his expression hardened, his face closing on a myriad of emotions Julian was hard-put to read. Anger, shock, pain, embarrassment.

Julian looked away, feeling many of the same emotions, himself.

"I'm sorry," he ventured. "This has been difficult for me, too."

"Why bring it up now?"

"I have to get to Ruha. He and the Senior were lovers several centuries ago. For some reason that I don't understand, I have to go through you to get to him."

William laughed a little, the expression on his face more wry than amused. "All the lovers filed in the same mental cabinet?"

"Something like that, apparently," Julian replied.

The room reeked with awkwardness. Suddenly Julian had no idea what he should do with his hands. Strange. He so rarely thought about his hands.

"How much of it have you . . . seen?" William said finally.

"Glimpses. I've shied away from it. It's too strange, seeing you and seeing . . . what he remembers." He dared a sideways glance, but William wasn't looking at him. "I'm sorry, William."

Now William did look at him, and something flared in his eyes.

"Are you?"

"Yes. I am."

"For what, exactly?"

Taken slightly aback, Julian paused to consider. "For being . . . the way I was."

"And why were you that way?" William's voice had become tight and brittle. "Was there a real reason, or just plain old-fashioned homophobia?"

His tone made Julian inexplicably angry. But was he really angry, or did his reaction come from the Senior within him? That the question even occurred to him fueled his anger-and made him afraid. It was the thing that scared him the most-feeling as if someone else were living inside his body, affecting his thoughts, guiding his emotions.

Regardless of whose anger he felt, though, William didn't deserve it.

Carefully, Julian said, "When he died . . . you were so cold. Like you didn't give a shit. Then I found out what he was to you. What was that about?" The anger grew as he spoke, becoming harder to control.

William's taut expression had given way to surprise. He blinked a few times, and when he spoke his voice was soft. "He knew he was going to die. He told me to do whatever I had to do to protect myself.

For all I knew, you were going to kill us all."

Julian frowned in thought as he began to understand. "Like when you tried to protect me with his bones, all over my desk, right after he died. I thought you were just being a suck-up."

"I was. It seemed expedient."

Julian swallowed and looked at the wall. "After that, when the rest of the memories started coming, the emotions-when I found out what you meant to him-" He stopped, swallowed again. "It was hard to like you. I felt like you had betrayed him. And he was me-sort of."

"I assure you," William said in strained tones, "I loved him."

It struck Julian suddenly that this was as hard for William as it was for him. Stupid-incredibly stupid-not to have realized that from the outset. He'd been so wrapped up in his own problems, and the problems of the enclave in general, that he hadn't even considered William's loss. His pain.

Julian dragged his gaze away from the wall and looked at William.

He was staring at a spot on the opposite wall. "But I was the one left behind, and that was harder," he said.

Yes, it would be, Julian thought. "I should have talked to you before,"

he said. It was just . . . so strange to me."

Silence settled for a moment, less strained than it had been.

Finally William said, "You have to go through the memories. You have to find what Ruha knew. Otherwise we die. Am I right?"

"Yes." And, at last, Julian understood what he needed to hear. "I need your permission."

William laughed dryly. "My permission? You need my permission to rummage through your own mind?"

When William finally looked in his direction, Julian caught and held his gaze. It was easier, now. "Those memories don't belong to me.

They're his. Yours. When I go there, it's a violation."