Prologue
The cottage set in the thick copse of trees was a dark, cramped affair. Abandoned years before, it had been forgotten by all but the spiders and an occasional rat. Even the air was stale with a thick dust that threatened to choke the unwary.
On this moonless night, however, the rats and spiders had been driven from the darkness. Not even those shadowy creatures could dare the cold mist of fog that slowly, ruthlessly seeped through the door.
Drake Ramone suppressed a delicate shudder as he watched the mist swirl ever closer. As a vampire of considerable power, he feared nothing. Why should he?
He was destined for greatness. Both upon this dreary mortal plane and behind the Veil that currently protected the vampires from his wrath. It was his undoubted birthright.
Still, he discovered a vague sense of unease as the fog thickened. His power was not as formidable as this ancient vampire. Not yet. Until he held the Medallion in his hands he would have to remain an unwilling servant to his master.
"Drake," the mist whispered in steely tones.
"Welcome, Master," he murmured with a low bow. "You honor me with your presence."
There was a grating laugh that echoed eerily through the barren cottage. "Honor? Do you believe me a fool? You honor no one, Drake," the vampire sneered.
"Perhaps not." Drake gave an indifferent shrug. "But I have always honored power."
"No, you lust after power."
"Surely it is one and the same?"
"To honor implies you possess a measure of principles. A tedious weakness that has never troubled you."
Drake offered a tight smile. "Certainly not."
"Which is precisely why you were chosen. Only one with your arrogant ambition would be willing to steal the Medallion and bring an end to the Veil."
"It is our mutual ambition, I believe."
"Yes." There was a pause, as if the elder were searching Drake's black heart. And perhaps he was, as he gave a dry rasp. "But do not allow that ambition to be your downfall. I sense your burning desires. If you betray me I will crush you beneath my heel."
Drake restrained his temper with an effort. When the vampire had first approached him behind the Veil he had been reluctant to agree to his scheme. He was an Immortal. A true blood. He took commands from no one. But as he pondered the rewards that could be his, his reluctance had faded.
It had been nearly two hundred years ago that the greatest of all vampires, Nefri, had created the Veil. She had commanded that the vampires live apart from humans. It was for the good of all, she had claimed, that the vampires exist in seclusion to ponder the great truths and philosophies. They were abruptly separated from the mortal world. The bloodlust that had once made them vulnerable to sunlight and fire had been wrenched from their souls.
Without human blood, however, they had also lost the desire, the lust and hungers, of humans.
They lost their ancient powers. The ability to shape-shift and mist-walk. They lost their fierce need to hunt.
For Drake it was an unbearable existence. He was no cold, passionless scholar who desired to devote an eternity to seeking a higher existence. He did not wish the knowledge of the elders.
What he wanted was to compel others to his command. He wanted to crush and enslave the humans, and to feast upon their blood. He wanted the other vampires to bend to his will.
An impossible task as long as Nefri held the ancient Medallion that kept the Veil in place.
So, along with Tristan and Amadeus, he had allowed himself to be secretly slipped through the Veil. They had returned to the world of mortals to discover Nefri and take the Medallion from her grasp.
None of them could have suspected that the wily old vampire would choose to separate the Medallion into three amulets, or that she would soul-bind them to mortal women.
Suddenly the Medallion could not be taken by force or even death. The mortals must give the amulets of their free will, or the power within them would be destroyed.
It had been a clever ploy. Even Drake had to admit that much. But that did not halt his seething determination. He would have the Medallion. No matter what he must do.
And once he did, all would suffer beneath his power.
Including this arrogant, treacherous vampire who chided him as if he were a hapless minion.
"I seek only to retrieve the Medallion as you requested, Master," he forced himself to retort, his thin countenance wreathed with a chilled smile. "No more."
The mist swirled. "We shall see. Have you discovered the wench?"
"Yes. I managed to rent a town house within the same block as Miss Hadwell. I have even managed to make contact with her brother, a rather pathetic halfwit. I hope to use the boy to get closer to the maiden."
"And Sebastian?"
Drake curled his lips at the mention of the vampire who had been sent by the Great Council to force him to return to the Veil.
"The fool has taken a house a few blocks away. He poses no threat, however. As usual, he is impervious to all but his musty books and ancient studies. He has not even made an attempt to seek me out. When he does, I shall kill him and be done."
There was a dry hiss of disapproval at his flippant tone. "He is there because I swayed the Council to choose him. Just as I chose that tediously noble Gideon and that vain fool Lucien. I presumed that they would easily be defeated. Just as I chose my servants because I presumed they possessed the necessary intelligence and lust to conquer. A miscalculation that I now must rue."
Drake frowned. "What are you implying?"
"Tristan has been destroyed, along with Amadeus. You alone are left."
Drake felt the chill seep to his bones. While he considered the two vampires who had joined him in the battle to destroy the Veil beneath contempt, he could not deny a vague sense of shock.
"How?"
"In their arrogance they thought they could not be defeated. The same arrogance that you carry about you, Drake."
The handsome features surrounded by a short crop of golden curls hardened at the insult.
Tristan and Amadeus were pathetic idiots when compared to him.
"Sebastian is no match for me."
"He possesses the dagger."
Drake shrugged. Although the dagger given to Sebastian had been blessed with ancient power to destroy a vampire, he remained unimpressed. The reclusive scholar was no threat. Not to a vampire destined to rule all.
"Sebastian will soon be at an end. And once I have the amulet from Miss Hadwell, I will seek out the others. Soon enough, the Medallion will be mine."
"I believe you mean ours," that rasping voice reminded him.
"Ah, yes. Of course."
Without warning, the mist struck out, cutting a thin wound along Drake's cheek. Just as swiftly, it wrapped about the vampire's feet and with a thrust had him tumbling to the dust -
covered floor.
"You seek to rise above yourself, Drake. A deadly mistake," the elder warned. "I will have the Medallion. You can rule beneath me or join Tristan and Amadeus in oblivion. The choice is yours."
Wisely remaining upon the hard floor despite the fury that raged through him, Drake patiently waited for the mist to slowly swirl toward the door. It was only then that he raised a hand to touch the blood freely flowing down his face.
Soon, he reassured his savaged pride. Soon he would have the Medallion. Then he would crush all those who had dared to stand in his way.
Beginning with Sebastian St. Ives.
Chapter One
The old Gypsy was huddled upon the filthy street like a bundle of forgotten rags. Amelia had nearly passed her by when the woman had abruptly held out her hand in a desperate motion.
"Please, kind lady, will you help me?" Amelia hesitated. The streets near St. Giles were littered with such pathetic outcasts. Thieves, whores, and the dredges of society waged a daily battle with survival. It was an impossible task to help them all.
The sensible choice was to be about her business so she could return to the comfort of her home. To linger would only invite danger. Especially to a young woman on her own.
Amelia's heart, however, was never sensible. Reaching into her basket, she pulled out the apples and cheese that she had so recently purchased and gently placed them beside the old woman.
"Here you are. Fresh from the market." "Bless you," the Gypsy murmured. "Bless you." "And here is a guinea. Sleep well tonight, my dear." "Ah, so kind." The woman reached for the coin, and then, without warning, she pressed a heavy object into Amelia's hand. "Such generosity must be rewarded."
"Oh ..." Startled, Amelia regarded the golden amulet that sparkled in the palm of her hand.
It was oddly designed with faint words scratched upon the metal. "No, you cannot part with such a lovely piece of jewelry. It must be worth a great deal."
The Gypsy slowly smiled. "It is beyond price. As is the blessing that has been placed upon it."
"Then certainly you must keep it You have more need than I."
"No." A sadness touched the wrinkled countenance. "Darkness will soon stalk you, my dear.
A terrible darkness. This amulet will protect you and bring a Guardian to your side. Wear it always and, above all, never give it to another."
