Amaliya kicked the back of the car seat as hard as she could every few seconds and screamed

at the top of her lungs. Trapped in the trunk of a small sports car, she felt claustrophobic and

pissed off. The brutes had fastened her hands and feet together with plastic handcuffs. They had

actually left her duffel bag, still smelling of garbage, in the trunk with her. The reek was getting

to her.

"Just let me go!" she screamed again and kicked as hard as she could.

The car veered to one side and her head slammed into the side of the trunk. This had

happened several times and she was sure the driver was doing it on purpose.

She could not believe her luck. Just when things looked like they were going to get better,

Cian ditched her in San Antonio, and she got picked up by gangster vampires.

Her body smacked into the side of the trunk again, then the car came to a hard stop, and she

slammed into the rear of the backseat.

“That fucking hurts!”

“Not like it's gonna hurt, bitch,” a muffled voice answered her.

The back seat of the car was pulled down to reveal a small opening and the large vampire

pulled her through into the interior of the car. It was obvious they did it to knock her around as

much as they could. She was yanked out of the vehicle and the big guy accidentally dropped her

on her face.

Wiggling around, she managed to flip onto her back as the biggest guy, bald and massive in a

goldenrod yellow shirt, stood guard while the smaller guy got her bag.

She reared her legs back and tried to kick him. Without even glancing her way, the large man

caught her booted feet in one massive hand. Flipping her back onto her stomach, he leaned down

and grabbed the waistband of her jeans and hoisted her up off the ground. Carrying her like she

was a bag, he walked up a narrow driveway to an enormous house nestled into the side of a hill.

We must be on the Northwest side of San Antonio, she thought.

Latin music filled the air and an assortment of Mexican-American women of all sizes, skin

and hair color, all clad in sexy outfits, stood on a patio off to the side of the house sipping drinks

and laughing. They barely glanced her way as she was dragged up the front steps and into the

Spanish-style house. Carried over tiled floors, Amaliya tried wrenching free, but to no avail.

The big man carried her through the house and finally up a stairway that ended in a massive

room. A fireplace dominated the room on one end, which made no sense since San Antonio

never had weather that needed one. Hoisted over the back of a leather couch, she was dropped

onto it.

Several of the girls from outside wandered in to look at her. Speaking in Spanish, they leaned

over and studied her. A few looked disappointed and one said, “Vampiro.” She realized they had

been hoping for a nice meal. Two of the girls were quite fair and she figured they had a lot of

European blood. The third looked like a pure indigenous Mexican. She was very tiny, with coal

black hair, and strong features. From the way she carried herself, it was obvious she was the one

in charge.

“Look, I am just passing through, ”Amaliya said firmly. “I didn't mean to break any rules.”

The woman leaned over her, her long black hair brushing over Amaliya's skin. It smelled of

cinnamon and vanilla. “Mistakes happen. Unfortunately, Santos doesn't like excuses,” the

woman said in a husky voice.

Just then a man in black slacks and a white shirt entered the room. He was not very tall, but he

carried himself as though he were a man of great power and influence. His hair was dark brown

and curly, while his eyes were brown flecked with amber. His skin was dark, yet had a pale

undertone. She wondered how old he was. It was obvious he had not been in the sun in a very

long time. Waving a hand, he dismissed the women before taking a seat across from her. She

assumed this was Santos.

“¿Habla Español?”

Struggling to sit up, she shook her head. “No. Sorry.”

“What kind of name is Amaliya?” He tossed her driver's license onto the coffee table.

“Russian. But my Mother messed with the spelling a little.”

“You Mexican?”

“Part. My grandmother.”

“And you don't speak Spanish?”

She felt a little defensive and finally managed to get upright. “I was raised in East Texas with

my Polish family. My Mom was half German, so we weren't, you know, straight up anything.”

“I see.” His expression was cold and odd.

She was hunched over lopsided, but he didn't seem to care.

“And why are you in my city?”

“I got ditched here,” she answered. “I was on the way out of town when your guys nabbed

me.”

“Who ditched you?” He was eerily calm and cold.

Amaliya felt hesitant to say Cian's name even though he had her removed from his city. “I'm

not sure.”

Santos moved so fast, she didn't even see him coming at her. Suddenly, she was on the floor

and her jaw felt broken. Slowly, calmly, Santos leaned down next to her as she spat blood on his

tiled floor.

“Who sent you?” The Master of San Antonio pulled a kerchief from his pocket and began

wiping up her blood in a nonchalant manner.

“No one,” she gasped. “No one sent me.”

This time she saw the blow coming and tried to duck away. He was far faster than she was.

He hit her so hard her head smacked into the tiles and the world spun around. Blood slid into her

eyes as she gripped the floor with her tied hands, and tried to steady herself. The pain was

excruciating and she could not concentrate on anything other than it ripping through her.

Numbly, she realized that Santos was still speaking to her. He struck her again before she

could determine what he was saying. This time she felt her cheekbone crack and blood bubbled

out of her mouth as she gagged.

“Who sent you?”

There was no way she wanted him to hit her again, so she whispered, “The Summoner.” It

was a gamble, but Cian was afraid of the bastard who had made them. Maybe Santos would be

also.

Santos’ calm demeanor disappeared and he drew back from her. Numbly, she noticed he was

splashed with her blood. Wiping his hands on his black trousers, he said something sharply in

Spanish to the big guy in the yellow shirt waiting nearby. Amaliya was busy spitting up blood

when she was heaved up into the air again. This time the big vampire gripped her under her

armpit and held her off the ground.

Santos appeared in front of her again. “Who sent you?”

“The Summoner,” she managed to get out.

“Break her arm,” Santos ordered.

Amaliya screamed before the big man could get a good grip on her. “Call Cian! Call him!

He'll tell you!”

“You know Cian?” Santos raised an eyebrow. He considered her words, then said, “Break it.”

Amaliya twisted hard and fell to the floor. Despite being tied up, she kicked frantically at the

big man as he tried to reach down and grab her again.

“Mi único y verdadero amor,” the dark-haired woman said from the arched doorway.

Santos looked up at her and Amaliya managed to get purchase on the floor and push herself

under a huge wrought iron table.

“What is it?” Santos demanded.

Amaliya tried to worm her way away from the big man as he got down on the ground and

tried to grab her feet and drag her out. Her face felt swollen and it pulsed with pain. There was

no way she was going to let anyone break her arm without a fight.

“You got a voicemail from Cian.”

“Really?” Santos reached out for the phone.

Screaming, Amaliya felt the massive guy catch her leg and begin to draw her out from under

the table. She was so desperate, she tried to grab a chair leg with her teeth. Roughly, she was

pulled out from under the safety of the table and was rewarded with a hard punch to her chest.

Blood spurted from between her lips and she knew she had heard her ribs break as her body was

enveloped in overwhelming agony.

“Manny, leave her alone. Cian called to claim her as part of his cabal. We don't want to mess

her up too badly if she is worth something to him,” Santos said in his deadly, calm voice. He

then dialed a number and raised the cell phone to his face, the glowing keyboard illuminating his

face red.

As Amaliya vomited up more blood, she heard Cian's voice faintly from across the room. And

then she felt her head fall to the floor and drag her body down into darkness.

* * *

Samantha arrived at the small bookshop in South Austin just before eight o'clock. It was a

tiny converted house with a wide porch with chairs arranged on it for reading. The front yard was

actually well tended and had a birdbath in it. The parking along the side was limited, but hers

was the only car in it other than Jeff's SUV. Climbing out of her car, her feet settled into the

freshly laid gravel.

She had felt silly in her earlier outfit, so tonight she was wearing jeans and a white fitted tshirt. Instead of flip-flops, she had dug out her cowboy boots and she had thrown on a black

shrug at the last minute. Heaving her heavy bag over one shoulder, she walked up to the door and

peered through the glass.

The first room was tiny and had a checkout counter. A huge magazine rack full of free

publications and political pamphlets of all kinds stood near the door. It was also decorated with

old paintings and photos of famous writers of the paranormal. She recognized Stephen King,

Anne Rice, and Edgar Allen Poe. Pulling the door open, she heard a tiny bell jingling overhead.

Rooms opened up to her left and straight ahead. Both were filled to the brim with bookcases

loaded up with books. A few overstuffed chairs were shoved into corners under what looked like

antique hanging lamps from exotic countries. A string of plastic beads hung over each doorway.

The design the colored beads created were of a pentagram on one and an ankh on the other.

The beads tinkled as Jeff appeared. He was limping slightly and he smiled at her awkwardly.

He looked really young, but she bet he was her age.

“Hey, Serena,” he said.

“Samantha,” she answered automatically.

“It was a joke. You're wearing a totally different look from this morning and Serena was

Samantha's evil cousin and-” He looked flustered.

“Oh, yeah! Oh, sorry!” She laughed and waved a hand. “I'm just a little stressed.”

“Want to come to the back? I just need to lock the door. It's been dead since about an hour

ago.”

“Yeah, sure.” She felt a little nervous at the thought of hanging out with a complete stranger.

She had her mace in her purse and she consoled herself with that thought.

Jeff limped to the door and locked it. Laying the keys on the counter in plain sight, it was

clear he did not want her to feel ill at ease. He had changed his t-shirt since this morning and this

one read “Vote for Pedro.”

“I love that movie!” Samantha said, pointing. “Napoleon was like this kid that used to always

stare at me and drool in high school.”

“It seems a lot of guys would do that without being a super nerd,” Jeff responded and winked.

“You're sweet,” Samantha decided as she followed him into the hallway leading to the back.

“Nah, just a nerd,” he teased. “I own an occult bookstore and wear t-shirts from movies.”

“True. True,” she conceded.

The room they entered was also loaded with books and opened up to yet another room. This

last one was much larger and had a long beat-up wooden table in the middle with mismatched

chairs around it. It looked quaint and sort of like an old library. To her left, she saw a door

marked “Restroom” with a little drawing of a female ghost on it with a pink bow. A few feet

from it was one with a male ghost.

Between them was a small table with a coffee pot and Styrofoam cups set out. A cookie jar

with a donation cup next to it looked alluring and she went over to pry it open.

“I made those,” he said as he settled into a chair at the table. “They're vegan.”

Pulling out a cookie, she felt its freshness and the smell was wonderful. “Vegan? Really?

They smell good! Oh, yummy.” Rummaging in her bag, she looked for some change.

“You don't have to donate,” he said quickly.

“No, no. I want to!” She found a dollar bill lurking under her sunglass case and tucked it into

the jar. Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she already felt a little less nervous. The smell was

heavenly.

“I just do that so people will feel at home. It can be nerve-wracking to come in here looking

for actual answers and just not fun reading material.” Jeff rubbed his leg and tapped the leatherbound books stacked next to him.

Setting her drink down, she sat next to him and munched on her cookie. It had a different

texture than what she was used to, but it tasted great. “Do a lot of people do that?”

“Oh, yeah. South Austin has a lot of haunted houses. Then on top of that, add in college

students messing with the occult and not having a clue what they are doing. They end up with

trouble and have to find a way out of it.”

“And you take care of that? Fix the situation?”

“To the best of my ability,” Jeff answered. “I can't always resolve it, but I do my best.”

“You're kinda like-”

“Please, don't.”

“Van Helsing,” Samantha piped and ate another bite of her cookie.

“I thought you were going to say Buffy. Again,” Jeff said with a laugh.

“I look more like Buffy than you do,” Samantha grinned.

“And you date vampires,” Jeff agreed with bemusement.

“But seriously, you do this all the time, right? Deal with the supernatural?”

“Not all the time, but enough to give me some really good nightmares.”

“Well. I guess getting your leg torn off by a vampire would do that,” she said with a frown,

and immediately regretted saying it.

With a somber expression, he nodded and said, “Well, you know, it's not something you

easily forget.”

“Was it Cian?” she asked fearfully, the terrible thought suddenly enveloping her.

“No. No. It was actually in another state that it happened. I was a baby, so I don't remember it.

We were on vacation and Dad took a job getting rid of a local vamp. It found out and did a

preemptive strike.” He sighed. “That's when I lost my Mom and my leg.”

Samantha was utterly horrified and her mouth opened, but she couldn't find words to speak.

“It's okay. I grew up and helped my Dad with his hunts until he died. Of natural causes,

thankfully.” He looked quite somber, but in an effort to shake himself free of his dark thoughts,

he grabbed a book and opened it. “My Dad kept copious notes on all his cases and he had a lot

written about Cian going back quite a way. Dad was supposed to destroy this book per an

agreement he had with Cian, but it was his life's work and he couldn't bear to do it. Cian was

actually one of the first vampires my father hunted.”

“That is so totally weird. So your Dad found out a bunch of stuff about him and stuffed it in a

book, huh? What does it say?”

“Originally, Cian came up out of Mexico where he was located with his human servant

Roberto for a very long time.”

Samantha finished her cookie and leaned forward to look at the newspaper clippings, notes,

and other bits of information stuffed in the book. “I know Roberto. He's a jerk.”

“Well, yeah. His history is not all that spectacular. Before Cian took him in, he was connected

with multiple murders. He was even suspected of his brother's murder. There is speculation that

is how he became so wealthy. Married women he seduced tended to become widows and he

would stick around long enough to receive some very generous gifts. Cian and Roberto were in

Mexico City for an extended amount of time after they joined up. Cian found favor with the

Master of Mexico City who sympathized with his past. Both of them had been slaves at some

point in their history and she was enamored with him. Word is, she banished Santos, her brother,

who is now the Master Vampire of San Antonio, from her territory in favor of Cian.”

“Wait, wait, Cian was a slave?”

“You didn't know that?”

Samantha shook her head, her eyes growing larger.

“When Cromwell came into Ireland in the late 1600's, he decimated the Irish population. He

sent a large portion as slaves to the West Indies. Cian and his family were sent to Barbados. He

lived as a slave most of his life until he was around twenty-four. He actually gained favor with

his master and was set up as a foreman of the sugar cane fields. He had a wife and two children

when The Summoner arrived in Barbados. We think we found the actual ship he arrived on. It

suffered a plague in transit and most of the crew and passengers died. Soon after, The Summoner

killed Cian. Though we cannot prove it, we believe the Bridgetown fire was caused when some

of the slaves tried to burn Cian or The Summoner out. It killed thousands of people, which, of

course, would have been very satisfying to The Summoner. My father asked Cian about it and he

doesn't remember why the fire happened. At the time, Cian was mad with the hunger that struck

him after his rebirth as a vampire. But he said he remembered the flames. Cian fled and hid in

caves for weeks in the aftermath. When he regained his senses, he knew was undead and was

terrified because of it. He tried to go home, but the plantation had burned and his family was

dead. People were speaking about red-eyed devils and he knew he had to get away from

Barbados.”

“How did he escape?” Samantha felt oddly overwhelmed. It was suddenly quite clear she

knew nothing about Cian at all.

“A pirate ship, believe it or not. He hid away on board the ship and slowly drank most of the

crew to death. They didn't know he was there and never found him. When they finally reached

land, he disembarked and began his journey across South and Central America. He has never

returned to Europe.” Jeff hesitated, obviously seeing she was trying hard to absorb all the

information he was giving her.

“So, he...he...well, he's over three hundred years old for one thing. I knew he was old, but

okay-” Samantha clutched her hands together and processed all of this. “So, he was in Mexico

for a long time?”

“Yes, until he sent a request to the former Master of Austin. He asked to relocate here. He

stayed in Mexico City far longer than he ever planned because it was safe. But he grew

increasingly bored and had to move on. That is his story. My father actually believed that The

Summoner was after him once more. Anyway, the Master of Austin agreed to have Cian join the

cabal. As soon as Cian got here, there was trouble. The Master's companion took a liking to Cian

and it caused inner turmoil. Beyond that, the cabal was extremely dangerous in their size and

daring. A lot of vampires are hard to track nowadays because they do not kill. Like Cian, they

take just enough from each victim to satisfy. But the cabal in the Seventies began to kill. Of

course, there was the whole craze over the Zodiac killer and Charles Manson at the time, so the

Austin police were looking for a group of Satanists. My father knew the truth and was looking

for the vampires, but they were very elusive. Then, Cian came to him one night, and they made a

deal. Cian gave him the cabal's location. My father swore he would not interfere with Cian's life

as long as he did not kill or make any other vampires. It was also agreed that no other vampires

would be allowed into the city.”

Samantha pressed a cold, sweaty palm to her forehead. “Oh, my.”

“Later, my father found out that The Summoner and Cian had made a pact. The Summoner

would release him if Cian became the Master of his own city.”

“And with the cabal dead...”

“Exactly.” Jeff was flipping through pages, showing her timelines, drawings, and newspaper

clippings. There were even several small sketches of Cian from different time periods. They all

had Roberto's signature.

“Did Cian...set up the cabal?”

Jeff shrugged. “I don't know. My father didn't think he did. But then again, my father was

fascinated by Cian. His history enthralled him and they had many meetings. They would sip tea

and speak of the history of the vampires in America. But there have not been any other vampire

related deaths in the area since the Seventies, so who is to say one way or the other?”

“You think Cian set up the Austin cabal, don't you?”

Jeff looked very solemn. “I do wonder. But if The Summoner was after me, I don't know what

I would do.”

“He's after the new vampire. Amaliya. The Summoner made her and he's after her.”

“Then he's probably in the city by now. I've spent today studying up on her. She's not even a

week old,” Jeff said, pulling a new leather book off the pile. He had already started collecting

newspaper clippings, online articles and had several photos from different sources cut out and

pasted on the pages. “I tracked her from where she was killed in East Texas across to Dallas. She

disappears for a day, then arrives in Austin. I did check on her family history and found that her

grandmother and some cousins live in Eastland County near the Abilene area. My guess is she

went there.” Jeff showed her a map.

“So, did she kill a lot of people?”

“Yeah. The first night she woke up, it was close to a dozen. Vampires usually awaken mad

with the hunger. This woman in East Texas is my guess for a second victim. A third was in

Dallas. A truck driver. One of her childhood friends was hospitalized, so that could have been

her, too.”

“So she's evil,” Samantha decided.

“Not necessarily,” Jeff sighed a weary sigh. “Vampires are scary creatures. They don't think

like we do after a while. They are above us on the food chain and when they are hungry, that is

all that matters.” He paused, then looked at her worriedly. “Has Cian drank from you? Or you

from him?”

“Ew. No.” She shook her head. “No. No. Hell, we don't even do...um...sex...much.” She

shrugged a little. “I thought maybe vampires aren't super into it or something.”

“It's probably because vampires mix blood with sex and he was trying to spare you.” His tone

was very gentle and his expression embarrassed.

“Oh.” She absorbed this, then said in a soft voice, “So that points to him being good, right?”

Jeff gave her a reassuring smile. “Yeah. I'm sure it does.”

She ran her fingers over the picture of Amaliya with blond hair from her high school

yearbook. Amaliya looked a little sad and bored in the picture.

“What do you want to do?”

Jeff's voice startled her and she looked up. “What?”

“What do you want to do?” he repeated.

“Save Cian. Get rid of her,” Samantha said finally.

And after that, she wasn't sure.

Now she wasn't sure about anything. Marrying a vampire had seemed so ultra-romantic and

wonderful. Now she was scared out of her mind. But she knew he was a good man or creature or

whatever, and he didn't deserve to die.

Or at least she didn't think so.

Jeff reached over and took her trembling hand in his. It was nice and warm, not cool like

Cian's. “I'll help you do that then. Besides, I always told my father I would honor his promise to

Cian.”

She gripped his hand tightly between hers and fought back tears. “Amaliya being here is bad,

isn't it?”

Jeff nodded. “I think so.”

Samantha cleared her clogged throat then said, “Okay. Then we kill her so The Summoner

leaves and everything goes back to normal.”

* * *

It was almost eleven o'clock when Cian finally arrived at Santos' home in San Antonio. It had

taken an hour of phone negotiations before he could leave Austin. It was a little over another

hour to drive down. Roberto had been furious to be left behind, but Cian did not want to deal

with his right-hand man as well as the Master of San Antonio. It was maybe foolhardy to go

alone, but he did know Santos was a man of reason, even if he was a brutal bastard most of the

time.

Santos was the son of an Aztec princess who had been raped by a Spanish invader, or so he

claimed, and the anger he carried inside of himself had not diminished with time. Santos did

consider himself a man of his word, and when he swore that Cian would not be harmed, attacked

or killed, Cian believed him.

Besides, Santos wanted information about The Summoner.

Cian parked his Mercedes where one of Santos' guards directed him. A party seemed to be

getting underway with plenty of beautiful Latina women and Santos' faithful compadres or his

“boys” as he liked to put it. Dressed in black trousers and a black silk shirt, Cian had dressed up

for the Master of San Antonio. He knew that Santos basically held court and expected a certain

amount of respect. Cian's shiny black shoes felt a little too snug, but he had barely worn them

since buying them.

Etzli, Santos’ half-sister, stepped out onto the steps. Her diminutive figure, raven locks, and

dark eyes spoke of her pure Aztec blood. Her keen eyes, lightly tilted up at the corners, looked

him over and she smiled slightly.

“Still pasty white and boring,” she teased him, a slight edge in her tone.

They had met hundreds of years ago in Mexico City, long before Santos had been forced to

immigrate to Texas. Cian had been fascinated by her and her bloody ways. Her name literally

meant blood, and he had a feeling if she had not been transformed into a vampire, she still would

have had a blood fetish. She was sultry and wicked and he had adored her until Santos had

discovered her secret affair with the Irishman. Etzli, as the Master of Mexico City, had banished

her brother from her city after he had tried to kill Cian in a fit of jealousy and anger. Years later

she had not been pleased when he had left her cabal to move to Austin, Texas.

“And you are beautiful, as always,” Cian said with a charming grin. “Visiting your brother?

On speaking terms again?”

Cian wasn't surprised. Santos and Etzli were firmly intertwined with each other. He had

realized toward the end of his time with her that she had mostly adored him because her brother

had not. “You are far away from home.”

She gave him a little shrug. “Once you were gone, we reconciled. Blood is powerful.”

Cian nodded slightly and tried not to be drawn into her magnetic gaze. The half-siblings were

most likely lovers again and he did not want to dwell on that thought. There was too much pain

in their past.

She gave him a coy smile. “Your fledgling is here. She has upset Santos greatly. No respect

for him at all.”

“None for anyone. That's kinda how she is,” Cian admitted, letting his Irish brogue come fully

into his voice. “I'm still teaching her.”

“She mentioned The Summoner.” Etzli drew away from him and beckoned him to follow her

into the house.

“Yes, Santos said something about that.”

“It is not wise to mention such a creature. Names have power,” Etzli reminded him.

Cian knew she was pumping him for information and he only shrugged in response. Santos

had allowed him to come and get Amaliya for one thing: information. Santos was not one to take

kindly to anyone, including The Summoner, being in his territory.

Some lovely young women slipped past them, whispering softly, and giving them furtive

looks of curiosity. Cian smiled at them but kept walking. He knew that Santos kept an

abnormally large cabal at his side. It was for power and for protection, but dangerous if detected.

Walking up a staircase, he entered a large room that was obviously where Santos held court. It

was decorated with antiques and artwork from Mexico along with Amaliya's body suspended

from the iron chandelier. Cian started at the sight of her. Obviously, Santos had questioned her

for a bit before calling him. Her face was swollen and almost unrecognizable. Blood drizzled

from the tips of her hair and he tried hard not to stare at her.

She appeared dead. Anger and despair swirled up to fill him with violence.

“She's alive.”

Slowly, Cian's gaze was drawn to the man seated near the fireplace. Santos was dressed in

black slacks and a white shirt splattered with red. He was drinking from a goblet and Cian could

smell the blood. It was Amaliya's. It was a pure power play and he knew it. Etzli glided to her

brother's side and leaned against the chair.

“Good evening, Santos,” Cian said and bowed his head slightly. He gained control of his

emotions and embraced the feeling of relief, knowing that Amaliya still lived.

“My friend, Cian, how wonderful it is to see you again,” Santos responded and rose slowly.

Cian reached out to grasp the man's hand that was proffered to him. Santos squeezed it hard

enough to crush bone. Cian matched his pressure. Santos smiled and dropped his hand.

“I found your runaway.” He motioned to Amaliya.

“I noticed,” Cian said, and put on his most neutral expression.

“She said she was dumped here.” Santos dark eyes searched Cian's expression.

“She tends to lie.” Cian shrugged.

“Really?” Santos arched an eyebrow. “She mentioned The Summoner. That he sent her here.”

Cian tucked his hands into his trouser pockets. “She was probably...” he looked up at her

body, “...in pain and trying to save herself.”

“But she knows of him.”

“Of course. He made her,” Cian said and again shrugged. If he played it cool and calm about

The Summoner, it would push Santos off kilter. Santos was used to him being in terror of his

creator.

Santos' expression grew grim and he looked toward the young woman hanging over his floor.

“So, you sent her here to deflect him from your city?”

“Of course not. But she is running from him. I've taken her in as part of my cabal, but she's

used to being on her own. She ran away.” A bit of the truth, a bit of a lie. Santos would know it,

but he expected Cian to lie. But he would not know which part was the truth.

“So she is not your fledgling?”

“Of course not. I do not make vampire children. I hold my city on my own,” Cian answered

coolly. It was a bit of a bitch slap at Santos, but again, the Master of San Antonio expected it.

“I see, my friend. So this girl, who you take in out of the kindness of your heart, runs away to

my city with The Summoner in pursuit of her? And you expect me to believe this?”

Etzli slid her hand lightly over her brother's shoulder to soothe him, or perhaps encourage

him. Cian wasn't sure which.

“You know what he does. He plays games. I am his child, too, you know, and he cut a swath

of destruction behind me for years,” Cian reminded him. “You remember what he did to us in

Mexico.”

“So why did you take her in? She only brings him to you,” Santos said, his gaze intense and

curious.

Cian looked up at Amaliya and her battered countenance. What answer would satisfy Santos?

He could declare his love for her, but that wouldn't work. Or he could claim it was out of the

kindness of his heart, but Santos would never believe that.

“She is what he is,” he said finally.

“What do you mean?” Santos looked confused and Etzli drew closer to him.

Cian could see Etzli's gaze grow cold and calculating as she looked at Amaliya.

“I've only seen it once, but she can control the dead. She's not exactly sure how to control her

power yet, but she can do it. I hope to hone her powers and make her my second,” Cian said.

From Santos' expression, this he believed and readily. “Then perhaps, I should keep her here.

If she is what you say she is.”

“If you do, The Summoner will sweep into San Antonio and do as he pleases,” Cian answered

truthfully.

From Etzli came a small cough.

Santos looked at her curiously.

“The last thing we need is The Summoner coming into your city to kill your people. He plays

with his offspring, but he destroys all other vampires with impunity. You know this,” she said.

Her voice was thick with emotion.

“He'll fuck you up,” Amaliya's voice said from above them as she roused and opened her

eyes.

Santos frowned up at her.

Cian nodded in agreement. “You know what he is like. You remember what he did to Etzli.”

Looking down at the pool of Amaliya's blood that was slowly snaking its way across the room

along the grooves in the tile, Santos looked very thoughtful. “But if she can do what you say, I

may be able to use her against him.”

“To do what?” Her voice was full of pain.

“Control the dead, Amaliya,” Cian said to her.

She laughed and twisted a little. Her body was doing a steady little loop as the chandelier

swung about and her blood streamed over the leather sofa.

“I have no idea how to do that. What am I supposed to do? Say ‘Go, arise ye dead fucks to

torment the ones who killed you’?” As soon as the words left her mouth, her eyes flashed with

light and turned utterly white.

At first, Cian wasn't sure what was happening, but then the floor under him buckled. Startled,

he stepped back. The tiles under his feet sank downward and he moved back again.

Santos looked stunned as the floor of the room kept heaving and buckling.

“Shit!” Etzli exclaimed. “It's all the bodies you buried under the house!”

“Whoa,” Amaliya said in awe as the first dead bodies appeared, struggling to escape their

graves.

Cian stared in amazement as the mummified corpse of a woman struggled out of the ground at

his feet. He sidestepped her as she stumbled forward and another corpse rose up behind her.

Etzli screamed as several lurched toward her. But most of the dead struggling out of the

ground under the house were moving toward Santos. A few beat against the door to the patio

trying to escape and get to the vampires partying outside. They were in varying degrees of decay

and some were nothing more than bone.

Santos recovered his shock and dove for a decorative sword on the wall. As the dead moved

toward him with their hands raised to grab hold of him and pull him down into their grave with

them, he began to slash at them.

Cian quickly leaped upward and landed on the ceiling. Crawling quickly over to the shocked

Amaliya, he worked on the rope binding her to the chandelier. She slowly looked up at him, her

eyes glowing white.

“Wow,” she whispered, staring at him as he moved about on the ceiling.

He held onto her as the knot came free and swung her up next to him. He held her close as he

pulled out a switchblade and cut through her bindings.

Santos was now sliding up the wall, slashing downward as the dead drew blood from his

flesh, trying to tear him limb from limb. They were eerily silent as they reached for him.

Somewhere outside, several men and women started screaming as the dead attacked them,

seeking vengeance.

Cian finally got the plastic cuffs off Amaliya and pulled her along behind him. None of the

dead seemed interested in them. The corpses filled the room below them with their rotting flesh.

Etzli continued to scream and leaped up onto the chandelier where Amaliya had hung.

The two vampires from Austin slithered along the tops of the walls and made their way out of

the house as it filled with the dead. As they crawled upside down, they saw a few of Santos'

women curled up in the corners of the ceiling, trying to evade their resurrected victims below

them.

Though Cian knew the vampires could probably tear the corpses apart with their bare hands,

there was something inherently terrifying about the raised dead. Even he felt it. A vampire felt

pain and could be stopped. These things seemed immune to pain and even as some of them were

ripped apart by the struggling vampires trying to escape them, the dead continued their assault

with silent determination.

The front door was open and Cian pulled his body through, then reached back to help

Amaliya out. Together, they leaped to the ground and ran to Cian's car. The dead did not even

acknowledge their presence.

“Why aren't they attacking us?”

“It was your curse. You told them to attack the ones who killed them,” Cian answered,

unlocking the car.

“Oh,” Amaliya seemed unaware of her glowing white eyes. “Oh, yeah. I said that.”

“Get in the car. We should be more worried about Santos than the dead.”

She wrenched the door open and crawled in. “But my bag!” she cried out. “They took it.”

“I'll buy you new things,” Cian assured her and slammed his door shut. He quickly turned on

the car and began to back up.

Santos erupted from the house, slashing at the dead creatures that relentlessly pursued him.

“Think you could call them off? We've scared him shitless. He will respect us and our

territory even more now.” Cian was grinning with satisfaction as the Master of San Antonio

looked after the car with desperate fear.

“I can try.” Amaliya rolled down the window. “Hey! Hey! Dead guys!”

The dead stopped their assault and turned as one.

Cian felt his skin crawl at the sight.

“Go back to the earth and rest,” she ordered waving her hand at them.

Instantly, the dead began to sink back into the ground.

“It worked,” Amaliya whispered. “I can do it.”

Santos fell to his knees in shock and stared at Amaliya in terror.

Cian gave the man a curt nod, then he turned the car around. It sped down through the gates

and away from the great house.