"What do you mean?" Abraham asked.

"Montrovant, of course," Gustav replied, turning away and heading down the pa.s.sage slowly, leaving them to stand or to follow, as they chose. "He is right on your heels, you know. He and another. It would not do for us to underestimate the dark one when he takes the time to make his way to our very doorstep."

"It is all a trap then," Abraham called after him, following the old vampire down the hall, his fear of moments before replaced by curiosity, tinged with anger. "It is all to draw the dark one here, and myself in the bargain, if I survived, that is. Tell me, Gustav, why you couldn't have just stayed in the mountain, guarded the treasures, and waited? Why go? Why now? Surely you know the church is aware of your leaving? Rome is filled with those who want to hunt you down, not all of whom are powerless to do so."

Gustav did not look back, but he replied softly.

"It was not my choice, Abraham. It is seldom my choice. Come, in moments you will understand more fully."

It was then that they rounded a corner and came to a ma.s.sive open doorway, leading into a large chamber. In the center of the room sat a long, oblong table of dark, solid wood. Around that table many chairs were ranged. In each of these chairs one of the Order sat, watching the doorway as though they'd been waiting for Abraham to arrive all evening. At the head of the table, a figure Abraham had never seen lounged indolently.

The vampire was old and brittle, thin to the point of emaciation, his long, wispy white hair sweeping back from his drawn face like a dandelion blossom past its prime, looking as though it might be blown away by a strong gust of wind.

Even from that distance, the vampire's eyes stood out. In a room where every feature appeared a bit off kilter, warped, or rotted, where nothing should have amazed, where the norm was far more bizarre than any other gathering Abraham could imagine, those eyes stood out.

They smiled without humor, latching onto Abraham's gaze and drawing him to a silent halt. If Fleurette had not noticed the sudden lack of motion and kicked his leg softly, Abraham might have stood in that one spot and stared for hours.

"Kli Kodesh," he breathed. It was not a question.

There was no other it could be, and with all that was happening in and around the keep, there was no other place one might expect the ancient one to be found.

"And you are Abraham," Kodesh replied, grinning back. "I hear you have led my friend Montrovant right to my doorstep."

Abraham watched the old one for a long moment of silence before replying, trying to reconcile the sight of him with the words and stories he'd used to build his own image. It was difficult.

"I did not lead him anywhere," Abraham said at last. "I followed him here."

"I see that," Kodesh replied, eyes dancing, "and yet you have arrived first. An interesting method of tracking, one we shall have to discuss at a later date. It is enough that he has come, as I knew he would."

Abraham found the old one's humor at the situation less than amusing, and would have said more if given the chance, but Kodesh went on.

"It seems, according to our scouts, that Montrovant and his men have departed the village below and are making their way up the mountain.

It is nearly time to make ready for their arrival, not to mention a fitting welcome for Noirceuil, whom I haven't seen in years. It should be an interesting diversion if I can arrange for a meeting between those two on the mountain."

"Noirceuil is a hunter," Abraham cut in. "He kills his own kind."

"I believe that he would argue that one with you, my young, impetuous friend," Kodesh replied quickly. "Noirceuil is fighting in G.o.d's army, and to hear him tell the tale he is the only qualified warrior in that group. He will do his best to send our dark one to his final rest, you can be a.s.sured of that. It is in the interest of the salvation of souls that Noirceuil kills, and while a bit overzealous in his methods, he has proven very effective over the years. I would hate to have to sit down and count the number of d.a.m.ned he has put to rest since his Embrace. What a delicious irony his existence has been!" "Why bring him here?" Abraham insisted. "If your goal was to lure Montrovant here, a final confrontation, why invite more trouble? The hunter is not here on his own, he was sent by the Church, the Inquisition. If he does not return, he or his partner, Lacroix, this area will soon be swarming with agents of Rome, poking under every rock and tree, searching for what they only vaguely comprehend.

Why ask for that so blatantly?"

Kodesh threw his head back and began to cackle madly, leaning over the arm of his chair and nearly falling to the floor in the sudden, out-of- control burst of amus.e.m.e.nt.

"If you have heard anything at all of me, boy,"

Kodesh turned to grin at Gustav, who sat to his right, "and in this company I am a.s.sured that you have, then you know that I do things for one reason, and one reason alone. They relieve my endless, tedious boredom. They give me a reason to continue on, though everything has been done that there is to do, and everything seen that can be seen.

The only thing left is the mind, the subtle nuance of one will, one heart placed against the resistance of another. It keeps me moving, makes me whole...and it amuses me to no end."

Then the laughter returned once more and the old one lay back in his chair, surrendering himself to it.

"Let me help then," Abraham called out boldly.

"I have as much reason to hate Montrovant as any who walk the earth by day or by night. I have seen the hunger take the existence of another just because it suited him. I want to be a part of their end, if such is your plan. I want to be a part of the Order."

Kodesh leaped suddenly from his chair, landing on his feet on the table in an incredible display of speed and agility, made all the more ludicrous by his fragile, aged aspect. His eyes were burning, and his lips were curled back in a sneer.

"You would be one of them?" Kodesh's eyes swept first over Abraham's features, then over the gathered throng of his own followers.

"You would walk with Gustav, study and control the secrets of the ages?

You would stand against Montrovant, and those who think to take these treasures and make them their own?"

Abraham tried to speak, but Kodesh caught him easily in that magnetic gaze, advancing on him with the grace of a large, predatory cat. Abraham wanted to flee, but at the same time would not have moved granted the strength. It was the moment he'd waited for since he'd come from Lori's caverns to the doorstep of the Order so many years before.

He would die now a second time, or he would rise to be something more.

"It will work," Kodesh grinned, nodding. "I will give you what I have given them, on the condition that you will then become the bait. You will go to them both, Montrovant, Noirceuil, and you will let them see what you have become, what has been offered you and denied them.

Then you will lead them to their destruction, or be destroyed yourself in the attempt. At least, for that moment, you will have what you have sought for so long, what you have dreamed of late into the night and during your rest by the light of day. You will be one of the Order of the Bitter Ashes, guardian of secrets."

Fleurette had drawn close behind Abraham, and she clutched him suddenly. "Do not do it," she said fiercely. "He is making it sound like a good thing, a special thing. He will send you to your death."

"And what if he does?" Abraham replied, tearing his gaze from Kodesh's dark, deep-set eyes to meet hers. "If I die, I will die accomplishing what I set out to do."

"Not if you die at Montrovant's hand, you won't," she said, shaking him by his arm. "You will do as that one," she turned to Gustav, pointing a slender finger at the ancient, eyes blazing, words snapping free of her lips as if spat. "You will turn your back on what you have created, on the one you now lead. You will do as they all did to you, abandoning me as soon as you took my life and hope of salvation. You will take this new d.a.m.nation, and you will leave me here...to do what?

To serve? To make my own way in the world, feeding off those I once called friend? Alone?"

She screeched then, diving at Abraham with such sudden fury that he was driven back several steps and took a deep gash below his eye before he managed to grab her wrists and hold her. Still she struggled to get at him, eyes awash in cold fury. His mind whirled. What she said was true.

"Stop," he commanded, and though the fire barely dimmed in her eyes, she did as he commanded.

She had no choice, bonded by the blood, or she would have continued to fight until he was forced to do something more permanent to stop her.

"She is full of fire," Kodesh cackled. "You will be better off without her."

"No," Abraham turned back. "I will do as you ask, and I will lead them here, but you must make your offer to us both. I swore long ago that I'd not bring another to this h.e.l.lish existence, but now I have done so. I will not become what I have loathed. I will not leave her to suffer as I have."

Kodesh hesitated. It was not his plan, but it was clear that Fleurette's actions had caught his eye.

Diversion. Entertainment.

He nodded. "So be it. I will double the stakes. If you lose her on the mountain, that will be on your own conscience. Come to me now, both of you."

Leaping from the table, Kodesh stood before them, holding out one withered hand, and they both started forward instantly, compelled.

Fleurette tried to fight at first, but it was futile. Abraham moved in a trance, mesmerized by the moment, the odd twists of events that had led him to where he stood.

They moved steadily and as they came near, Kodesh wrapped each in one ancient arm, his face alight with- madness. It was the only way to describe it. As his arms wrapped them, he brought a wrist to each of their lips, not waiting for them to bite, but impaling himself on their fangs, lifting them from the floor with the violence and suddenness of his action. They both struggled then, for just an instant, then their expressions shifted subtly...completely.

Their eyes stared, glazed, and their jaws clamped hard, as if in unison. Kodesh stiffened for a long moment, feeling the blood flow, the twin bites piercing his wrists in an odd mockery of the nails biting in the crucifixion, symbol of the very Church that now hunted them. Then he shook himself, and they fell away as if thrown, tumbling to the floor. Neither moved at first, and Kodesh drew his arms in toward his body, closed his eyes and lowered his head for a moment, then raised it again, the dark grin having spread to a maniacal expression of something much wilder.

"It has begun," he said softly, as first Abraham, then Fleurette rose to their knees, and then to their feet.

Abraham stared at his hands, then turned, his gaze rising to meet Kodesh's. He tried to speak, but words failed him. "I..."

"Go," Kodesh said gently. "Go back the way you entered, through the tunnel, and find them. If you come first to Noirceuil, as he is hunting you, use that to draw Montrovant's attention."

"And if we draw too much attention?" Fleurette's voice was smoother now, cooler. Her eyes did not drop when Kodesh turned to catch her once more in his gaze.

"Then you had better be prepared to fight, young one," he replied with a smile. "Noirceuil will not be impressed with your fancy new blood. He will want to prevent you from d.a.m.ning any more souls."

Fleurette nodded, and as Abraham watched in consternation, she turned from the ancient without a backward glance and headed toward the pa.s.sageway through which they'd entered. He watched her for a moment, then turned back to the table as Kodesh started laughing again.

"You'd better catch her, friend Abraham,"

Kodesh cackled, "she doesn't appear to be waiting for you."

Abraham turned and quickly followed Fleurette into the pa.s.sage and down the stairs, quickening his steps as the mad laughter rang out behind him.

Everything about the way he thought and felt had changed in a single instant. He had yearned and waited, dreamed and now...now it was his. The gift. He was one of them, and there was no chance to savor it. He could sense things around him acutely. He could feel how the hunger, so maddening before, had peeled back. It was there, but so faint, so tiny that it was difficult at first to recognize it as the hunger at all.

Fleurette had no experience to gauge it against, but still her actions were aggravating. As she reached the bottom of the second stair and headed around the curve in the pa.s.sage back toward the tunnel, he took her by the shoulder suddenly, spinning her to face him. He did not speak at first, only met her steady gaze.

"What are you doing?" he asked her after a moment of silence. "Why do you just walk away?"

"If I could truly walk away, I would do so now," she spat at him. "You have twice, in less than the span of a single week, altered my fate without a choice on my behalf. I came here because your will compelled me, and with my new hunger, I needed your teaching, your support.

You would have abandoned me here as surely as we speak. Then, in a fit of guilt at my accusations, all true, you drag me into this as well. Did you ask if I wished to be granted this gift? You did not."

"I..." He stared at her, and for the second time that night, realized she was right. "I am sorry," he said, too late, and too pointlessly.

Turning from him, she made her way to the tunnel entrance and pulled the stone slab aside, peering into the darkness beyond. "We will discuss it when this is done," she said in a toneless voice.

"I feel that the hold you had on me has been broken.

We may need to test that."

Then she was gone, crawling swiftly into the tunnel, and Abraham was left to follow as he could, hoping her anger did not rush them both into something they were not prepared to face. The worst of it was the knowledge that she did not appear to care if she did so or not. For her, Noirceuil might be the best answer of all. At least his mind was clear and focused.

The shadows swallowed them quickly.

SEVENTEEN.

Noirceuil returned to the small cave's entrance immediately after the sun had set, as Lacroix had known he would. There were no words spoken, but the hunter crouched immediately at the entrance.

Lacroix himself had been awake for only moments, the rigors of their journey having caught up with him finally and bringing a long, sound sleep. Possibly the last for some time to come.

Noirceuil sniffed at the opening, started slightly, shifting back on his heels, his head swaying from side to side. He had the aspect of an animal that had lost the scent, and that bothered Lacroix more than anything since the two had become partners.

Something was wrong, or at the very least not as Noirceuil had expected. Theirs was a precise art. If their enemy got even a moment's advantage, it could easily be the last moment of their existence.

Without hesitation Lacroix pulled back against the stone where he'd been sleeping, drawing his weapon and scanning the shadows surrounding the small clearing with narrowed eyes.

"What is it?" he called out softly.

Noirceuil did not answer immediately. When at last he nodded, moving back from the entrance, his voice was low. "They are not there.

They may have come back this way, or gone in deeper. I can't be certain. I think I detect them here...in the past hour or so, but it is too weak a trail to be certain."

Noirceuil turned to Lacroix, eyes blazing, "Why did you not watch the entrance?"

Lacroix's eyes narrowed as he watched his partner back away from the cave entrance. "You were not back yet, and I have never seen one of them before I saw you. I did not think it was late enough to worry yet."

Noirceuil looked about ready to say something more, then stopped, c.o.c.king his head to one side.

"Well, they are gone. We can't rule out the idea that they rise earlier than most, and that they may be out here with us."

The hunter cursed quietly, scanning the shadows.

Lacroix's heart was calming somewhat. With Noirceuil back at his side, he at least felt on even ground with their prey, if they had not metamor- phosed into the prey themselves. He'd seen too many fall to believe the odds were now stacked too heavily against them, but he hated being caught off guard. He also hated appearing as a fool, and Noirceuil's expression moments before had called him that quite eloquently.

There was no movement anywhere near them, but something p.r.i.c.kled along the hairs at the back of Lacroix's neck, and he knew they were not alone.

"They are here," he breathed.

Noirceuil only nodded. He had shifted back against the stone, and his stance was that of an upright, coiled snake about to strike. There was no fear in him, no thought of defeat. He wanted only a target.

Lacroix wasn't as eager to meet vampires who could rise so early as his partner seemed to be, but he knew he'd be happier once he had them in sight. If he were to die, he preferred to see the instrument of that death.

Then there was a rustle to their left, and the wait was over. The girl stepped into full view, hands on her hips, staring at them as if they were vermin cowering in a corner of her kitchen.

Another sound to the right, and Abraham stood at the edge of the clearing as well, his eyes dark and unreadable. Noirceuil shifted back and forth, watching first one, then the other, poised.

Then Noirceuil stiffened."What is it?" Lacroix asked quickly. His first thought was that the two were not alone, and he shifted his gaze about the clearing wildly, but there were no others to see.

"Something is wrong," Noirceuil said quietly.

"They are not as they should be. They are stronger.

Look at their skin..."