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."