Prologue

From the Journal of Alexandru Chisca

Senior Member of the Romanian Vampire Council

I remember it well, the night that Calin Sherrad, Master of our Coven, called our people together. Calin was a tall, imposing figure, feared and respected by one and all. A proud man, never defeated in battle, he stared at those of us assembled in the Great Hall of the Carpathian Fortress. The tension within the Hall was a palpable thing as all who pledged their allegiance to Calin waited for him to speak. Most of us were related to Calin by marriage or by blood. The members of the Vampire Council, myself among them, stood to one side of the Great Hall. We all wore the long black hooded robes of our office.

A hush fell over us as Calin began to speak.

“I have called you here on a matter of grave importance.”

Calin spoke quietly, yet his voice filled the room. I felt a shiver of unease as I waited for him to go on.

“For many years, we have lived in peace, carefully keeping our existence a secret from the mortal world. Occasionally, a rogue has brought the hunters down upon us, bringing danger to us all.”

He spat out the word hunters as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Not only do the humans outnumber us,” he said, his voice rising, “but they have the advantage of being able to hunt during the day, when we are at our most vulnerable. Many of our people were killed in the last Great Hunt.

“It was for this reason that my father built this Fortress. It was his example that caused others of our kind to build similar places of refuge in other parts of our country. Since the last Great Hunt, we have endeavored to keep our existence a secret from the mortal world.

“For many centuries, it was believed that the vampires of Romania were the only vampires in existence. But that is no longer true. I do not know where these Others came from or how long they have existed, but they are not like us. They kill indiscriminately, feeding on men, women, and even children. Unlike our kind, they are able to create others like them. These fledgling vampires have an insatiable thirst for blood. They often leave their prey lying out in the open, drained of blood, to be found by humans.”

Murmurs of disbelief ran through the crowd.

“Mortals cannot differentiate between our kind and these barbaric Others,” Calin said. “Vampire hunters are out in force, killing our kind and the Others, and, in their hysteria, hunters have been known to kill those of their own kind. In some parts of the world, the ground is soaked with the blood of vampires and innocent mortals alike.”

I glanced at the other members of the council, and saw my own horror reflected in their eyes.

Calin paused, his gaze again moving over the assembly. “This cannot go on,” he said, his voice ringing from the walls and the rafters. “Tonight, I am declaring war on the Others! We must find them and annihilate them before they destroy our people and our way of life.”

There were scattered shouts of approval from the younger vampires in the crowd.

“By my decree, every Romanian male will make this fight his own.” Calin’s gaze moved over the Hall, settling briefly on the face of every man. “So let it be recorded,” he intoned with great solemnity. “So let it be done.”

“So let it be recorded,” the members of the council repeated in unison. “Done and done.”

As I spoke the words, I wondered at the wisdom of our decision.

There followed a period in our history known as the Dark Times. Many Romanian vampires were killed as the war raged throughout the known world. Some were destroyed by hunters, some by the Others. Towns and cities were laid waste.

As soon as our children were old enough to understand, they were taught that the Others were the enemy. From childhood, every Romanian male was trained in the art of war. Many of our unmarried women joined our men in battle.

Peace had been taken from our land and our people. Hatred for the Others grew, instilled in the hearts of our children and our grandchildren.

The war against the Others lasted for over a hundred years. In that time, many lives were lost on both sides, including that of Calin. His oldest son, Rodin Sherrad, assumed his father’s place as Master of the Coven. None challenged his right to do so.

Rodin was a fierce and fearless warrior. Ever valiant in battle, he was driven by a relentless need to avenge his father’s death. His daring and determination infused our people with courage and a renewed determination to win.

Within a year, the Others had been defeated and peace was restored.

Rodin deployed our men to every part of the world to act as keepers of the peace. They were charged with the task of assuring that any Others who had survived the conflict were destroyed before they could wreak havoc among the humans, or create more of their kind. Our people established new covens in other countries throughout the known world.

Under his leadership, our existence has remained a secret.

The Others have been mostly forgotten.

Our way of life is safe once again.

Our people have flourished.

Long live Rodin Sherrad, Master of the Carpathian Coven. And long live those of his blood.

Chapter 1

Lake Tahoe, NV

Kaitlyn Sherrad rolled down the window of her baby blue Porsche and stared up at the log cabin set alone in the midst of a cluster of tall pines. As usual, her father had outdone himself. Last month, when he had come to the States for her graduation from college, he had asked her what kind of gift she wanted and she had said, facetiously, Oh, nothing much, just a little summer place in the mountains.

After pulling into the driveway and cutting the engine, Kaitlyn grabbed her suitcases from the backseat. Smiling with anticipation, she hurried up the narrow, winding, red brick path that led to the front porch. She quickly skipped up the stairs and unlocked the door.

Knowing her father, she wasn’t the least bit surprised to find the living room already furnished. An off-white sofa with a high, curved back and a matching love seat faced each other in front of a rough-hewn stone fireplace. A deep mauve carpet covered the floor, flowered curtains hung at the windows. The tables were walnut, as was the large bookcase—already filled with books by her favorite authors—that took up most of one wall.

Dropping her suitcases beside the sofa, Kaitlyn explored the rest of the house—two large bedrooms with a connecting bathroom; a den, complete with desk, computer and printer, sofa and big-screen TV; a small kitchen with new appliances and a refrigerator filled with her favorite foods; a service porch equipped with a new washer and dryer.

She shook her head, a sting of tears behind her eyes. Being an only child, she had always been spoiled rotten, but this went far beyond the ballet classes and piano lessons her parents had provided when she was in grade school, the new wardrobe they had given her every year, the Porsche her father had surprised her with for her twenty-first birthday last year.

She had hoped her folks would spend the summer with her, but trouble at the Fortress had drawn them home. It wasn’t always easy, having a father who was the Master of the Carpathian Coven. Sometimes, as now, his duties could not be ignored. Usually, her uncle Andrei handled things at the Fortress, but whatever the emergency had been, it had required her father’s attention, which meant that her mother had gone, as well. To her knowledge, her parents rarely spent more than a few hours apart.

Kaitlyn sighed as she removed her sweater and tossed it over the back of the sofa. Someday, she hoped to find a man who would adore her the way her father adored her mother. A man who would live and die for her. A man she couldn’t live without.

Picking up her suitcases, she carried them into the first bedroom and tossed them on the bed. This room was done in varying shades of green, with billowy white lace curtains. The twin windows looked out over a sparkling blue lake.

Kaitlyn shook her head. How was she ever going to express her gratitude for the love and kindness her parents had showered upon her? She had thanked them on numerous occasions in the past, but words seemed woefully inadequate. She knew they hadn’t been altogether pleased with her decision to remain in California after she graduated from college, but they had accepted it without argument.

Feeling a little homesick, she opened the larger suitcase and began to unpack. Her folks had always treated her like a princess, but then, maybe that was natural, since she had been raised in an old stone castle in the heart of Romania.

She smiled as she hung her clothes in the closet.

All she needed now was a prince.

Chapter 2

Zackary Ravenscroft strolled through the main floor of the casino, stopping now and then to chat with one of the customers, pausing to answer a question here, to address a complaint there. He loved owning a nightclub, loved the excitement that filled the air, the rush of adrenaline that fired the blood of the patrons, the fact that no two nights were ever the same.

Zack had built the casino ten years ago, simply because he was bored and thought it would be a nice distraction. It was one of the best decisions he had made in the last six hundred years. Not only did the casino provide a hefty income, but the constant change in customers assured a steady supply of women. And Zack loved women—all women. Old or young, ugly or pretty, smart or not so smart, black, white, red, brown, yellow—it made no difference. He loved them all. And they loved him in every way imaginable.

Leaving the gaming tables behind, he strolled up and down the aisles of slot machines. He stopped a moment to watch an elderly woman playing one of the old dollar slots. From her shabby appearance, she appeared to be down on her luck and most likely using the last of her money in a desperate hope of hitting it big. He had seen it all before. Usually, he had no sympathy for those who plunked down their last five bucks in hopes of winning a fortune on the turn of a card. Sure, it happened from time to time, but no matter what the game, the odds were always with the house.

The old lady was muttering under her breath.

It took Zack a minute to realize she wasn’t cursing but praying.

He frowned as he listened to the urgency of her words, heard the unshed tears in her voice as she sent a desperate plea toward Heaven.

Zack grunted softly. Her husband was sick. He needed an operation, and medication they could no longer afford. She had lost her job. They couldn’t pay the rent.