LIANNDRA

Lianndra Awoke first. As the eldest he had more experience with Waking and Sleeping. And he was a more powerful vampire.

Even though he was only four years older than Dezi, their differences in personality and the power of the BloodTouch affected them differently. Dezi was weaker while he was stronger. It was just the way things were.

He stretched the imaginary kinks out of his muscles and padded toward the bathroom and the shower, his bare toes curling and uncurling in the thick carpet.

He showered whenever he first Woke up. He hated to have blood hidden on his skin. Blood tended to seep into the pores and minute crevices of his flesh and stayed there, dried and tacky. Mortal blood was just so messy.

Done with the shower, he stepped out to find the other two still Asleep, Chris’ left hand open, the fingers curled slightly as if he still held Lianndra’s hand.

Lianndra shook his head and went into the living room wearing nothing but a robe, his hair still dripping.

With a hand wave and a thought, the TV clicked on to the news.

Who needs a remote control? he thought with a smirk, then realized what was on and all expression left his face.

"We are here now at Lexington and Third, the place where three brutal murders occurred late last night," a reporter said. The breeze was tousling his dark hair and he was bundled up in heavy winter clothes, his ski jacket a bright swatch of yellow across the screen. He pointed at the townhouse behind him. "The murders took place right here at Number 12, the home of Alesandra Hess. The woman was lucky she wasn’t home at the time; unfortunately, her roommates were.

"Meredith Burton," the picture of a dark haired, dark eyed woman with olive skin and a faintly hooked nose appeared. She was pretty in a kind of understated way. "Danielle Stein," the picture of a blond haired, grayish-blue eyed woman. "Gretchen Cohen," a slightly chubby, brown haired woman with laughing brown eyes and lashes that brushed her cheeks. She was in the same age group as the others. They had all been fairly young, early twenty-something.

A pencil sketch of a man appeared. "The suspect is thought to be a Caucasian male with white-blond hair, dark brown eyes and a pale complexion. He’s about six foot two inches tall, wearing a thumb ring on his right hand. The ring has a strange design that might be the mark of a Satanist group." They flashed a sketch of a shape. A bunch of swirls that for some reason brought the image of snakes to mind.

Lianndra clicked the TV off, trying to wipe the image of those three faces away. He knew who had done it. There was only one person he knew that would flaunt the vampire ring so freely. Ralsbet.

A smile tugged at his lips at the thought of Ralsbet being called a Caucasian male. He would probably think of it as an insult to his honor. He was a Zulu shaman after all, no matter that his skin had been bleached when he received the BloodTouch.

Some might have called him an albino, but Lianndra remembered him as he had been before he was Made, his skin so dark that he seemed to meld into the night, the only bright things about him his teeth and eyes. The whites of his eyes had been enhanced by his magic when he was the great Zulu shaman/witch doctor and his teeth had just been naturally white.

The man had been terrible. He should have been left to die. He had no right to be alive now. It was his fault that the Zulu tribes had been practically wiped out after all. He had always had a kind of a big mouth, something that was definitely not needed in 1876, especially when he knew what the outcome would be for his people and the British.

Lianndra grimaced in memory. He had been on vacation at the time and he hadn’t even thought about the fact that relations between the British and the Zulu tribes was starting to become more forced. It had been getting harder and harder to live there, but he had been young then. He had only been ninety-nine years old at the time, still a child in many ways.

If Ralsbet was on the loose again, then they were all in trouble, especially with Tispith making her presence felt. He was not going to be having a very good week, that was for sure.

It was time to get dressed. He had a few things to attend to. Things that Chris had no right to know about. Things that would probably horrify the boy if he knew about them.

Dezi Woke before Chris. Lianndra watched the life flood back into her body. She yawned and stretched, then blinked to full wakefulness.

"I want you to watch out for Chris," Lianndra said. "Please lock the doors and windows and stay inside. If you get Hungry, go to the Breeding Chambers, but otherwise stay here. Do you understand? It is very important." He looked at her hard, knowing that his eyes were sending out hidden messages that she would interpret.

She looked uncertain for a moment, but nodded slowly. "Okay, but only for you Lianndra. I trust you on this. Just remember that if you need help, we are all here for you."

He smiled and headed for the door, his black sneakers sinking into the thick carpet without a sound. He looked like any human child in jeans, a hooded-sweatshirt and a haircut that kept his eyes cleared most of the time.

One of the problems with appearing to be only seven years old was finding clothes that he felt comfortable with, that didn’t look silly and that came in his size. That had been one of the bad things about the beginning of the 1900’s. Short pants and derbies had been in style. Just thinking about that ridiculous outfit practically made him get down on his knees and thank God that it was the time of the clotheshorse.

He had never been meant to be a child, he was sure of it.

As he disappeared out the door, he looked back once to see Chris emerging from the bedroom, rubbing his eyes and scratching his bare chest. Lianndra couldn’t help shaking his head at the sight. The boy had obviously forgotten what he was for the moment. He would get over that soon, but until then he would go on making himself look ridiculously mortal.

The streets were crowded with people and cars, everyone intent on getting somewhere fast. He traveled along the crowded sidewalks like a shadow, people moving out of his way without really even noticing him. It was as if he wasn’t there at all.

He sent out a silent mantra with his mind, ‘There is nothing, no one here, move around, be around, know that you control yourself.’ He had done this same trick hundreds of thousands of times in the past two hundred and fifteen years and had perfected it to a fine art that no mortal could resist, not even those that thought themselves better than the normal ilk, the psychics. He gave a snort at the thought of psychics.

Most people that said they were psychic were fools or fakers. True psychics hid behind masks of normalcy. They were afraid that people would look upon them as either the light in God’s eye or children straight from the loins of Satan. They protected themselves, pretending to be like the people around them. Yet even most true psychics could not see vampires when they did not wish to be seen. And Lianndra did not wish to be seen.

He searched the city for the key traces that would give Ralsbet’s hiding place away. He followed the blood-scent that a Feeding vampire left behind. Ralsbet’s scent was familiar and easy to follow.

The scent led him to the most unlikely of places. The Vampire Club.

Once he knew where to go, he hopped a cab, not even having to give directions. Everyone knew where the Club was.

The Vampire Club was one of the most popular places in the city to go. People found it exotic and strange without quite knowing why. It was like any other nightclub except that it catered to both mortals and immortals, but most mortals didn’t know who or what they were really dancing with.

The Club had live performances starring mortals and vampires both, the same as with the waiters and waitresses. Vampires and their mortal counterparts getting along without fighting or eating each other, it was a pleasant change from the way the rest of the world was going.

There were two drinks for every menu name, what was served depending on what type of creature the patron was. The Vampire Club didn’t cater to mortals and vampires exclusively. Others liked to go there as well.

The Vampire Club was the hotspot of the universe and every being knew it.

Lianndra paid the cabby and entered The Vampire Club after greeting the bouncer, a vampire by the name of Phang.

He was Chinese, something that rarely happened. Not Chinese vampires, since vampirism was a multi-ethnic thing, but a Chinese bouncer. Bluntly put, he was kind of short. Then again, his vampire powers placed him a step above any mortal bouncer. He could bench press a Greyhound after all, something that few mortals could even imagine doing.

A warning to the Initiated about Phang was the telltale whitish-blond hair that only vampires had. Mortals might have blond hair, but none are quite able to achieve that ethereal quality of a vampire’s.

As he passed by, Lianndra winked. He knew Phang on the personal level. He understood what the Chinese man had to go through with these mortals. He wasn’t very tall either.

Inside, the club was a large dark room with a few strobe lights swinging around. Hanging from the ceiling, silk ribbons whispered like living things as the breeze of the opening door and passing bodies set them in motion, they could only be heard when a person had their ear right next to one, their noise startlingly loud in a room pounding with sound. Music blared from large wall speakers. It was all fairly new stuff too, cutting edge, raw and filled with the power of life.

The Vampire Club was a live performance club. New bands were allowed the chance to perform their music to a receptive audience of mortals and immortals. It was the perfect place for talented musicians to make their career, or for untalented musicians to break theirs.

Under the balcony stage where the musicians played, women and men, all attractive, danced, strutted and stripped. People glanced from them to the musicians and back. Some of the strippers would still be around when the first act began, but most of them, those that hadn’t been Initiated, would be run out before the real acts even started. Some people were not suited to that sort of thing.

The decor was black mosaic with strange silver swirling designs that were actually runes of command. They kept everyone loose, vampire, mortal, werewolf, fairy, whatever. Fights that tore up the dance floor and caused undo police attention were not needed or wanted in this particular club. Some people found that just a little too tame for them, they were usually the belligerent-type that no one really liked anyway. Those kinds of people were kicked-out and later remembered, never to be allowed in again.

The only thing that kept the club from overfilling with dissatisfied customers was the backrooms. They were the hotspot of the club. People massed around the doors hoping to be invited in for a private party.

Lianndra cut through the crowd, barely noticing the mortal voices asking why a "kid" had been let in. He vaguely heard the meaty thumps and the harsh whispers of "Are you stupid? That’s Lianndra! Shut up, he might have heard you!"

He felt a smile curve his mouth, his fangs pricking his lower lip without breaking the skin. It was a little hard to smile with his fangs out. They tended to get in the way.

One of the little quirks about The Vampire Club was the fact that most of the people dressed how they thought vampires should. They painted their faces garishly, wore flamboyant clothes, wore fake fangs, dyed their hair different colors and wore lots of heavy jewelry. Little did they know that the people that passed through with the whitish-blond hair and dressed in dark, fairly plain clothes were the real vampires of the world.

He looked at them, his brothers and sisters, and smiled with the knowledge that they acknowledged him. They knew who and what he was and treated him accordingly.

He was Lianndra de Voight. He had been Made by Donal, the younger brother to Tispith herself. Few people knew who Donal had really been, but they had understood the power he had possessed, the poor brave man. He had been killed by his very own sister, his older sister who was angry because he looked older, more adult than she did. He had died because of her rage at being given the BloodTouch early. And through her rage, she meant to strike down everything that he had created. Which meant Lianndra and most of the Brethren. Even the title infuriated her, the Brethren, the Brother, or so she said.

It was that rage--that insanity--that had resulted in her being locked away in her tomb. Her own private hell.

Donal had been his friend and confidant and he had been the same to Donal. The man had told him many secrets, one of which was the fact that his sister had managed to escape her tomb for a short time in the beginning of the 1700’s. It was a secret that only Lianndra knew.

Donal hadn’t lived through her second escape.

"Hey Lianndra, how you been?" The voice came from his right.

He turned to find himself face to face with the club’s manager, Kinisah, or as everyone called him nowadays, Kinny.

"Hello Kinisah, how have you been?" Lianndra raised an eyebrow.

The man looked uncomfortable. "Well, I haven’t Fed yet. Some of these mortals look so succulent, but I know what you always say: ‘Don’t eat the customers,’" they droned it in unison.

Few knew it, but the actual owner of the club happened to look only seven years old. Hm, hard to guess who that was.

Lianndra grinned, his teeth flashing as a strobe passed by him, highlighting the amazing white of his skin in a flash that caused a few mortals to step back quickly and shiver in fear, though they themselves had no idea why. Racial memory perhaps. The instinctive reaction of prey when faced with a predator.

"Well, just leave Marcus in charge and go get a little snack, it’s no big deal," Lianndra said. "I’m sure Marcus knows what he’s doing, you have been training him for sixty years after all. It really is no problem." He waved his hand for the man to go off and enjoy himself.

"I can really go? Thank you M… Lianndra." Kinisah smiled sheepishly at the mistake he had almost made. He was Hungrier than he had thought.

At a silent summons, young Marcus Whitterby came running up, wiping his hands on the apron he always wore. "Yes sirs?" he asked in his lisping voice. Someone had tried to cut out his tongue before he was Made and he was still affected by it. It was kind of sad really. In every other way he was perfect.

He had been thirty when he was Made, but he had been one of those people that look younger than they really are. He looked to be only twenty-five or twenty-six, around there. That was the age he would always look, a young thirty.

Lianndra smiled at him. He had always liked Marcus for some reason. Maybe it was the fact that the man reminded him of his father. Or maybe he had some sort of vampiric complex that was just now starting to affect his brain?

"We want you to take over the club for a few hours so that Kinny here can recuperate. Can you do it or should we find someone else for the job?" Lianndra looked hard at the man, his eyes bright as lasers and twice as piercing.

"I can do it, don’t you worry. Go ahead Mr. Kinny, everything will be just fine while you’re gone," Marcus said, his chest swelling with pride.

Suddenly, Lianndra yawned. Lower vampires were ever so boorish.

Kinisah smiled and gently kissed the tips of Lianndra’s fingers before disappearing into the crowd. The over-exaggerated Dracula-type cape that he wore flared out behind him. That was another thing about The Vampire Club. Everyone seemed to take the old vampire stereotypes to heart. It was all a little strange, especially since no real vampires had ever dressed like that. It had just been a little dramatic quirk of the movie industry.

Lianndra looked back at Marcus, his face an emotionless mask. "Is there not work that needs doing?"

The lower vampire made the face that all shirkers used when they are told that they have to get back to work. He pulled a damp-looking rag out of an apron pocket and headed toward the counter, a purposeful look on his face.

Lianndra couldn’t help smiling. The poor guy, he was getting his first taste of power but it would only last for a couple of hours. As in Cinderella, the wonder would only last for one night. It was one of the problems of having a vampire for a boss--they never retire because of old age. They might quit, but they never have to retire if they don’t want to.

Sometimes he had to feel sorry for those under him. They were yards above the mortals, but they would never be the masters of their own fates.

Take Kinisah. Made in the 1500’s by Baldwin, and why? Because he had a pretty face and Baldwin was bored. Now he was destined to be in the service of vampire masters for the rest of eternity.

Marcus was Kinny’s protege Made by him, yet his ability to Make others changed nothing. He was always going to be a vampire servant. It was like getting let into heaven, only to find out you were the help, destined to polish halos forever.

With a shake of the head, Lianndra went off to dance with some mortal girl of about eighteen or nineteen. He could only wait for Ralsbet to show himself, and above all he must not let any of the others know that the shunned one was amongst them once again. Which meant he had to pretend that he was having a good time until all of the trouble was over and done with. What a bother.

He sensed the presence about half an hour after sitting down at the counter. He quickly blanked his mind, making himself invisible to the searching mind while at the same time making it possible for him to scan the other’s mind himself.

He waited a few minutes for the searching mind to relax somewhat before he gently sent out a probe. His heightened senses went out to their limits, searching through the mind delicately.

It was who he thought it would be. Ralsbet had made a definite mistake.

Lianndra stood and, moving so quickly that no mortals and very few vampires could see him, came up behind the man. Ralsbet knew who it was that had him, of course, as the lightning quick fingers latched onto his neck. He just didn’t have time to do anything.

His shamanic powers were useless against one that had drunk the blood of Donal, of Valdimar and of the Unspeakable.

Lianndra tightened his grip, feeling the little bones under his fingers flex and bend painfully. The man hissed and fought, trying to get away, but he was no match for the grip that held him.

"Come," Lianndra hissed in the man’s ears, dragging him toward the room that no one was allowed into. His office when he was at The Vampire Club.

He slammed the door behind them, closing the curious out. The room was soundproofed so that the sounds outside and inside could not be heard.

He would enjoy what he was about to do. He knew that there would be no punishment for what he was going to do, so he was going to have fun. Ralsbet was already dead; Lianndra was simply going to make it a reality, that was all. Sort of like blowing when someone was still standing up but unconscious and weaving on their feet; he was simply helping Ralsbet fall down where he belonged. In the dirt and mire of the eternal torment he deserved.

He smiled grimly as he walked toward his victim.

He stepped out an hour later, wiping his hands off on a lace handkerchief, his face expressionless. There was a light in his eyes that made people back away from him hurriedly, not even realizing why they were suddenly afraid.

As he passed Marcus on his way out of the club, he said, "Have someone, a True Breed, clear out my office. Don’t let anyone see inside that does not belong."

Lianndra didn’t see the man nod. He was already passed.

As soon as he was gone, Marcus handed his rag off to an employee and headed toward the office. If Lianndra wanted a vampire to do the cleaning, then he would do it himself.

He made sure nobody was watching too closely, then opened the door and went in. He flicked on the light, and knowing about the soundproof walls, began to curse, loud and for a long time in several different languages.

CHRIS

Lianndra got back just before the sun began to rise. He crawled into bed, his body like ice against all of the blood induced warmth. It was hard to believe that he’d been gone all night.

Chris scooted over, moving closer to Dezi on his other side, yawning. "How’d it go?"

"Let’s just say that the evil shaman will no longer be on my mind." Lianndra gave a wicked laugh, his toe touching Chris’ knee.

"Hey!" All three began to laugh as they fought, shocking each other with mental taps.

When the sun came up and they sank into oblivion, Lianndra was spread over the top of them, the blanket strewn across his waist, hanging between the two as he lay across their chests. The image of innocence, children fallen asleep while in the act of play. Who would have ever thought that the innocent image they projected was false? Who would have guessed of what they carried so lightly in their blood?

Chris opened his eyes to the coolness of night. Even through the thick, sun-protecting walls he could feel the night outside. Dezi and Lianndra weren’t here, so he couldn’t ask them if they felt the night too. All he knew was that he yearned to go out and be wild, jumping over tall buildings and all that.

He grinned at the thought. He could actually do it or something very like it. Wouldn’t that have shocked his old buddies.

That’s when it hit him. The thing that had been hiding in his mind for so long, ever since that night--God, could it have only been two months, almost three months, ago?--when he had first met Lianndra.

An image flashed through his mind of his friends on the ground, either dead or dying. The small, delicate figure that was Lianndra hovering over them, gently sucking the blood out of the living boys, his every movement graceful as he glided from one to another.

He also saw himself standing by with a stupefied expression as Lianndra carefully drained his friends of their blood and their lives.

A cry of horror escaped Chris’ lips, or at least he thought he made the sound, his voice was unrecognizable, a thin cry.

Without even realizing what he was doing, he dressed hurriedly, careful to be as quiet as possible.

He slid silently through the door and to the end of the hall where he could peer into the living room safely. Luckily, Lianndra and Dezi seemed to be in deep conversation. They didn’t notice him.

Licking his lips, he levitated a foot off the floor and slowly slid his way along the wall to the front hall and the door. He managed to get it open without a sound, something he was very thankful for.

Closing the door silently, he lowered himself to the floor and raced for the elevator, his movements so fast that he shocked himself, managing to bump his nose on the elevator door before he could slide to a stop.

The elevator man didn’t seem to find anything wrong with him. The guy recognized him as the boy that traveled with Lianndra. With his heightened senses and his new awareness of the world around him, Chris knew the man to be a vampire, a vampire that smelled faintly of a recent Feed.

With a flicker of amazement, Chris realized that he could see into the man’s mind. And the guy didn’t even seem to notice.

In the man’s mind he saw an image of a beautiful young mortal woman that begged him nightly for the BloodTouch and promised to be his slave in return. He also saw that the man planned on taking blood from her nightly until she finally died, he didn’t see any point in making such a vain creature an immortal like himself, it was complete nonsense.

Chris read something else in the man’s mind. The man was angry that he had to work for a living while the older vampires loafed around living off of thousand year old fortunes without a worry in their little pointed heads. He wished that he didn’t have to work, especially not as an elevator man, it was so degrading, and besides, the uniform was so unfashionable.

Chris gave the man a sympathetic look and would have said something, but the elevator doors slid open and he had to go. He looked back, seeing the grimace on the man’s face as the doors closed.

He shook his head, moved by some unspeakable pity. Imagine working forever in a dead end job. Working for eternity as an elevator man with his only respite being to amuse himself with young mortal women. He hoped that that didn’t happen to him.

The night was filled with the usual sounds of cars, buses, trucks and people. He walked among them in a kind of daze. The smell of sweet life and living blood filled his mind with images of all of the many things they had been through, thought about and dreamed of doing. Their minds were open to him, their blood beckoning him to read their souls, to drown in their thoughts and imaginings.

He passed through the crowds, feeling like some kind of avenging angel. Thoughts not his flowed through him, drowning him in feelings not his own.

He stopped at a bus stop just as the bus was pulling up. He felt in his pocket for the fare only to find that he didn’t have any money. He looked at the bus driver who didn’t seem to be moved by any notion of pity.

Chris swallowed and looked up into the man’s eyes. He was about to say something when it happened, his eyes locked on the man’s and he felt something strange going on.

"Please come aboard." The driver’s voice was empty and his face was blank.

Chris gave him a look over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs and went in search of a seat. He felt strange.

He had somehow hypnotized the man into letting him on without having to pay the fare, which was pretty cool. He wondered what else he could do with this new power of his.

DEZI

Dezi was shocked to find Chris missing.

"Lianndra!" she screamed. She didn’t hear him come. He was just suddenly there beside her. "He’s gone," she said, her voice so high that it would have hurt mortal ears to hear.

He searched around. She could feel his mind passing through her, over her, under her and around her as he searched.

"He left through the door, rode the elevator down to the lobby, left through the front doors, walked for a while and disappeared," Lianndra’s voice was distant. He wasn’t all there at the moment.

They both ran toward the lobby with impossible speed, their bodies blurring in their own vision, which meant they would have been invisible to mortal view.

Lianndra reached the door first, his eyes seeming to glow with the energy that the hunt filled him with.

She was close behind, which meant she was able to see something few others would have.

As he had run, his limbs had blurred, not with speed, but with an actual change. He looked the same, but the scent about him was different. Something weird was going on here and she had no idea what it was. And there was no time to ask questions and find answers.

Faintly she could sense Chris, where he had gone and how he had gotten there. In the back of her mind she felt a slight blue, the thing that was Chris, at least to her brain, getting farther and farther away. She could tell that he was still alive, but that was basically it. She had never been a strong telepath and he was already too faraway for her to get a clear reading.

"Where did he go?" she asked, looking at Lianndra.

He moved his head, tilting it to the right. "He left from here. Obviously took a bus, but where did the bus go?" He even sounded different from how he usually did. It was a little frightening to look at him and see the feral glint in his eyes. It was like he was ready to Feed, but there was no reason. He had already Fed. Something strange really was going on. She wasn’t just being paranoid.

Lianndra’s nostrils spread as he breathed in the scents of the night. "He went that way." He pointed west.

She looked where he was pointing. There was a large building in that direction. Now they had to figure out what streets made their way in a westerly direction. It would be a little tedious, but she figured they could do it if they worked together.

"All right, let’s…" She was speaking to empty air.

Dezi looked around, seeing his already faint form running straight toward the building. She had no idea what he thought he was doing. Vampires could levitate and they could climb, but they could not leap over tall buildings in a single bound like Superman. Besides, they needed to stay on the ground where the scent was fresh and flowed smoothly.

With a toss of her head she chased after him, feeling annoyed. The annoyance melted away when she saw what he did next.

He took on more speed and, with a running leap, shot up into the air with amazing velocity, so fast that there was the crackling retort of the sound barrier being torn through. He had broken the speed of sound!

She stopped where she was, her mouth gaping in shock as she stared at the spot where he had stood. Then, with scuttling quickness, she scurried up the side of the building, following the faint scent of where he had passed.

He met her at the top of the building, a tight smile twisting his lips as he looked at her.

"How did you do that?" Dezi demanded.

Lianndra only smiled and gestured for her to follow after him as he jumped across to the roof of the next building.

"How are you supposed to keep the scent?" she asked after they had landed.

He grinned. "Don’t worry, I’ll keep it. That’s no real bother at all," Lianndra said. "The only problem we’re going to have is keeping ahead of the Blood Trackers." He moved toward the edge of the building.

She felt a chill go through her at the mention of Blood Trackers.

There are few creatures that can frighten a vampire. The worst ones are the Blood Trackers, monstrously ugly creatures that hunt the night in search of vampire prey. Their growls curdle the blood and their howls fill the night like the sound of wolves, only worse and much closer to home.

They were the reason that most wolves had been hunted to the point of extinction. They bother both mortals and vampires with ancient and instinctual memories of midnight murder. They are hardly ever seen, but when they are, the person never lives to see another day.

Only one Blood Tracker had ever been captured, and he had died soon after, his body dissolving into a puff of smoke.

He had been caught hunting in the mountains, searching for small game. He came across something a little larger and more ferocious than he had expected, a pack of Hungry vampires on the prowl for blood. Still, he had almost won his freedom. Out of nine vampires, only four came down from the mountain, with them came the growling, thrashing monster.

The vampires had worked for Lianndra and had brought the creature to one of his warehouses. Dezi had gone there out of curiosity, wanting to see what a Blood Tracker really looked like. She never wanted to see such a thing again.

His body had been covered in gray fur and his fangs had been at least an inch and a half long, it was hard to tell, since they had been dripping blood at the time. He had claws attached to hooked fingers that looked almost human but not quite. He had been hunched over a stomach wound, his growls filling her mind with images of tearing claws. But most horrible of all had been his eyes.

Those eyes had been insane, it was true, but it was a madness that she recognized. The madness of a frustrated mortal or vampire cursed to a twisted or crippled body. Only he had been in a body made to kill his distant relatives.

She had felt the hate radiating from him as he howled and tried to escape, finally giving up and sinking down in death, his eyes locked on hers. At that last moment they had lost their madness and she had seen what he really was or once had been. Human.

Dezi shivered. "You can’t be serious. Why would the Blood Trackers be searching for us?" She tried to sound as if she weren’t really terrified out of her mind, but knew that it wasn’t exactly working.

"Because Ralsbet has given them a description of us and a scent marker from me. He obviously got the marker from Karetta, probably a bit of cloth or thread that was attached to her clothes or something." Lianndra’s tone was calm and matter of fact, as if it didn’t really matter that the creatures were after them. That it didn’t matter that they soon might be dead and devoured.

Her hands tightened into fists, her knuckles going white. "What are we going to do?" There was a note of hysteria in her voice. Her hands tightened further, there would have been pain if she had been mortal, but since she wasn’t, she barely even felt it.

His unearthly blue eyes turned to face her. "We must stay calm because when we are upset we give off blood-sweat which will lead them to us that much faster," he said. "All we can do is keep on the move. They are superhuman, but not faster than we are. We must stay ahead of them and not stop in one place for very long. We will get away and find Chris. Don’t worry."

Dezi calmed herself and unclenched her hands, strangely reassured. When he turned back forward, she wiped her hands on her pants, leaving a faint streak of blood that went unnoticed.