

Tales of the Executioners

CYPRUS:

Future's Promise

EXTENDED EDITION

A short story

By Joleene Naylor

http://www.joleenenaylor.com

Joleene@joleenenaylor.com

First Smashwords Edition, 2017

Extended Edition, 2019

Copyright 2017 by Joleene Naylor

Published by Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Interior images by Joleene Naylor & Zanatlija

Cover images courtesy of artjazz and Canstockphoto

Cover by Joleene Naylor

Find Joleene Naylor on Smashwords at: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/joleenenaylor

Ramblings from the Darkness at http://www.joleenenaylor.com

You never know what you'll find in the shadows.....

# Other books by Joleene Naylor:

Amaranthine Series:

1: Shades of Gray

2: Legacy of Ghosts

3: Ties of Blood

4: Ashes of Deceit

5: Heart of the Raven

6: Children of Shadows

7. Clash of Legends

8. Masque of the Vampire

9: Goddess of Night

Stand Alone Novels:

Brothers of Darkness: Patrick's Story

Short Story Collections:

Vampire Morsels Collection: 17 Short Stories

Tales of the Executioners Volume 1: Short Story Collection

Tales of the Executioners Volume 2: Short Story Collection

Heart of the Raven Mini Prologue Collection

Tales from the Island: Six Short Stories

Thirteen Guests: A Masque of the Vampire companion

Short Stories:

Road to Darkness: A short story companion to Brothers of Darkness

Honeymoon Havoc: A short story

A Different Time: A short story

Deal with the Devil: Jorick's origin story

COMING SOON:

Micah's novel (not the final title)

Thanks to Bonnie Mutchler and Chris Harris for their ninja-like proofreading skills.

Also thanks to Juels Jackson, Irene Melgoza, and Jonathan Harvey for the names Lance and Milkavich.

# What is an Executioner?

The Executioners are the vampire's equivalent of special police. They go on "assignments" that The Guild (the vampire government) sends them on, and they don't have a reputation for being very nice. It's a reputation that is often well deserved.

For more on Executioners and the universe they live in, check out the Amaranthine series by Joleene Naylor.

This is the eighth in a collection of short stories, _Tales of the Executioners_. Each story is about a different Executioner from the _Amaranthine_ universe. To get all the stories (including previously unreleased shorts and bonus stories) get the _Tales of the Executioners Collections Volume One and Two_.

Cyprus replaces Senya as an Executioner during _Heart of the Raven_ (Book 5). This story takes place just over ten years before that book.

This story may contain violence, strong language, sexual content or other disturbing scenes and is not intended for a young audience.

# Cyprus

**(This story takes place 10 years before the novel** _Shades of Gray_ **and opens at the Sodalitas' stronghold in Munich, Germany.)**

**Cyprus looked over the note; chocolate eyes rereading his slanted handwriting.** The introduction was short, followed by a poem:

My lady of light, in darkness I dwell without you,

Black shadows paint the walls of my prison,

From this hell I want to get away, to our sweet escape,

And it ended there. He tapped the pencil against his lips and tried to think of a rhyme. Fizzen? Bizzen? Risen? It was a good line, and he hated to cut it. Maybe if he moved it around... A few quick erases and:

My lady of light, in darkness I dwell without you,

Black shadows paint my prison walls.

I scream your name, and plead for some escape,

But you stand away and do not heed my calls.

I long to fly far from this hell,

Into your arms, a sweet embrace,

To silence the chattering of the demons,

Your touch, sweet balm to my heartache

"That has potential," he mused to the empty room. But would Sadihra appreciate it? She'd glanced at the last poem with barely a comment before she'd hurried away.

But she didn't hand it back, did she? And you saw the way her eyes warmed, like two pools of summer sky. The way her cheeks tinted soft pink.

He leaned back in the chair. He was down to talking to himself about Sadihra because no one else wanted to listen.

Some friends I have.

Sadihra had once been his friend. His good friend. As a woman she'd faced prejudice in a masculine world, prejudice that Cyprus understood. Slender, with soft features and long copper hair, he'd been called "girl" more times than he could count. Turned because he was pretty, by a master who craved men but liked to pretend that he didn't, Cyprus had spent fifty years paying his blood debt. It would have gone longer, but an even prettier boy appeared. Cyprus used that to escape, leaving the newcomer to his fate.

On his own, larger, broader, more intimidating vampires laughed at him, some to his face. When he said that he wanted to be a guard in the stronghold, they'd outright scorned him. Still, he'd traveled to Munich, Germany, taken up residence in the stronghold, the home of the Sodalitas, and set out to understand the complicated government system - so complicated that he'd once had to make a chart.

Starting at the bottom, other countries, or regions, in Europe had their own little governments, complete with councils and enforcers. For instance, Italy and France each had miniature strongholds, but there operations were small – one council, a handful of law enforcement, a few guards – because, officially, all of Europe was ruled by the Sodalitas. Though those smaller provinces had some power, der Höhere Rat – the High Council in Munich – could overturn their rulings, their laws, on a whim.

But it was only Europe the Sodalitas and der Höhere Rat ruled. Other places, such as North America, or Japan, had their own governments, and owed the Sodalitas nothing. However, the Kugsankal, or True Council, was a different story.

Made of three ancient vampires, turned before the death of Christ, the Kugsankal lived in the lowest reaches of the stronghold. From there, they ruled all of vampire kind. Or were supposed to. Much of the time they did nothing now, their rule so seemingly complete there was no point. That left the Sodalitas and der Höhere Rat to handle things for the world, and gave them an inflated sense of purpose. Yet how could they forget who was really in charge? Especially when the presence of the Kugsankal permeated every brick of the stronghold, every bit of wood and plaster.

It had taken Cyprus time to get used to them, to breathing air heavy with their crushing presence. When he finally did, he started applying for a position as a stronghold guard. He'd been rejected for lack of experience, but refused to let that stop him. He'd applied again and again, honing his skills, practicing his demon eye ability, until he was finally accepted.

That was when he met Sadihra. They'd been put on an assignment together. Some of the Scharfrichter – the elite law enforcers – had laughed, saying it was a mission doomed to failure with only a woman and a pretty boy. The assignment had been a success, but the harassment had forged a bond between them; a bond that grew stronger as they spent time together. They started meeting for a drink now and then. Soon it graduated to movies, even to outings, and they became best friends. She spoke to him about her boyfriend, Wolfe, about her past, about her hopes, her dreams, her frustrations, and she listened to the same from him.

That was how he'd fallen in love with her. He still remembered the moment he realized it. They were in The Garden, a café-style gathering place stuffed with plants. They were seated at a corner table. Sadihra had shone against the backdrop of curly green vines and delicate pink flowers. She'd been laughing at something, her blue eyes shining like sapphires, and it had suddenly hit him like a falling tree; _I love her_. Just like that, he knew he'd do anything to make her eyes shine, to see her smile, to make her laugh.

And that's when I blew it.

Energized by the realization, he'd blurted it out like a child. Her sparkling eyes went wide. All the joy died, leaving pale shock. A nervous smile returned, but it felt fake. "I love you, too Cyprus. You remind me of Etherin."

Etherin. Her older brother who'd run away when she was a child.

Cyprus' smile had turned as false as hers. They'd finished their glasses of blood, and Sadihra had suddenly remembered some paperwork she needed to do. Cyprus knew it was a lie, but he hadn't argued, just smiled that fake smile and headed back to his room, berating himself the whole way. That morning, as he closed his eyes, he'd promised himself to let the infatuation go, to just stay away from her.

He'd broken that promise by the end of the week.

It was an assignment. He and four other guards accompanied Sadihra and Hethin to Spain's version of the Sodalitas. More social function than official business, within two days he'd found himself alone with her on a balcony overlooking a grotto. Artificial lights glinted off a small waterfall and shiny stones. He'd stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared at that water as though memorizing it; the way it flowed from small tier to small tier, to finally fall gurgling in a pool floating with lily pads.

It was Sadihra who'd broken the silence. "It's lovely."

_Not as lovely as you._ He shrugged. "It's relaxing."

"It is. The stronghold is too medieval to have such things. They prefer heavy gilt and imposing columns, to make themselves seem more terrifying, I suppose."

"As the self-imposed leaders of all vampires, they need to instill terror."

She turned to him. "Do you really think fear is the best way to rule?"

"It's the easiest."

"But doesn't love garner more loyalty?"

Love. The word left him looking away again, a reminder of their conversation in The Garden. "It's harder to maintain. You can kill love, but fear...it's harder to destroy."

"I suppose." He chanced a peek to see her gazing at the grotto. "Can you really kill love, though? True love, I mean, not infatuation. That comes and goes like the wind, but real love...doesn't that become a part of yourself? To kill it, wouldn't a part of you need to die?"

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, wishing the conversation away. "Real love is hard to find."

"That's true." She leaned against the railing. An uncomfortable moment passed, and she finally said, "About the other day..."

"There's nothing to say."

"No, there is. Cyprus, we're friends, aren't we? Good friends?" He made a noncommittal noise and she went on. "That means...that means we feel a mutual affection. I think...I think you've confused that affection for something more."

His jaw tightened. "I'm not confused, Sadihra. I know how I feel. It doesn't matter."

He turned to go, but she caught his shoulder. "It does matter. I do care for you...like, like a brother. To have you fall out of my life, like this...I don't want that."

He hid his discomfort behind his anger. "But you don't want me!"

"I love Wolfe."

What was he supposed to say to that? "Yeah, I know. If you'll excuse me?"

He'd hurried away before her liquid eyes could pull him back, and swore he'd avoid her for the rest of the assignment.

Of course that was impossible. They spent three days wrapped in treaty negotiations – negotiations the Sodalitas humored because the Kugsankal had remained mute on the topic. At the conclusion of the third and final day, they were invited to a fancy fete. Cyprus and the other guards had worn their uniforms, but Hethin and Sadihra had gone in formal wear. The royal blue dress set off her eyes and complimented the flush in her creamy cheeks. More than once his eyes had strayed to the curve of her cleavage, and his thoughts had gone to dark, blood scented places.

Still, he'd tried to avoid her.

When the gala was its height, she found him hiding in a corner. Strands of hair had fallen from her up-do, and her face was creased with annoyance. "Will you accompany me?"

He tried to look everywhere but her. "Accompany you where?"

"Away from here. And from him." She nodded to a vampire who was already coming towards them. "I've told him to get lost a dozen times already."

Cyprus' eyes narrowed and his jaw twitched. "Do you want me to kill him?"

"No, no," she said quickly. "I could do that myself, but I'm pretty sure it would ruin our relationship with the Spaniards."

"I doubt the Sodalitas is too worried about our relationship. If Spain won't capitulate we'll send in an army."

"True enough, but it's more hassle than it's worth for one jackass." She grabbed Cyprus' arm and dragged him toward the exit.

He didn't argue, didn't try to stop her, only glared at the vampire shadowing her footsteps. The man drew to a stop and, at Cyprus' warning snarl, turned to melt back into the crowd.

Sadihra pulled Cyprus out the door, then down the corridor. It wasn't until they reached a grand staircase that she stopped, still clutching his arm. "I'm sorry. You can go back to the party now. I don't want to ruin it for you."

"It's not very interesting," he murmured, eyes on the faraway door, half expecting the vampire to appear.

Sadihra nodded to the doorway. "I think he got the message. It's ridiculous that it takes a fellow man to get the point across. A woman's 'No,' should be enough."

"They assume you don't mean it, that it's a tease. Too many women do that, or have done it. Not that it's a good excuse. They should take the no, then, if it is a tease, the woman will pursue it herself."

"It would be easier if women were allowed to do all the pursuing and men were demure. Then no one would be confused."

"Of course they would. Romance is confusing." Cyprus met her eyes and his chest tightened. The warmth of her fingers seeped through his uniform sleeve. He imagined her hand moving up his arm, trailing over his shoulder, moving down-

He pulled away. He should go back to the boring party, go back to his corner, or, better yet, find a willing vampiress to distract him. He should, but... "Do you want me to walk you to your room, in case he follows?"

Sadihra bit her lip delicately, and he imagined tasting it. "Yes. Perhaps that's a good idea. I could handle him if I needed to, but..."

"War," he finished.

"Yes."

He avoided taking her arm again, only followed her up the stairs. They rode plush elevators to their floor, then wound down the corridor, past potted plants and other vampires, until they reached the door to her room. She stood uncertainly in front of it, nervous hands working against one another. "Well, thank you."

"Of course. What are friends for?" The final sentence sounded sarcastic. He opened his mouth to soften it, then changed his mind.

She sighed. "Cyprus, I..." She took his hand in hers, enveloping his fingers in her smooth, soft warmth. "You are my friend. There have been times where you and Jilsenna have been the only ones who understand me. I...I don't want to lose that." She looked into his face and her gaze softened. Though he wasn't a mind reader, he felt the pull of her hesitation, that moment standing on a precipice.

The decision flashed across her face a moment before she leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. She pulled away and let go to say only, "Good night," before she hurried into her room.

He'd stood in the hallway, fingertips brushing where her lips had been. What did that mean? In one breath she said no, and then...

Except she'd never said no. She'd said, "I love Wolfe," not "I don't love you."

He'd floated back to his room, his mind churning. It was there that he'd thrown himself in the shower, leaned back and closed his eyes, concentrating all of his demon eye ability on Sadihra and himself, as he'd done before. There were some familiar clips, things he knew would likely come to pass because he saw them so often, but, then, there was something new. Her shoulder, her back, painted by low light, and shadows that wrapped around to fill the valley between her naked breasts. Her soft lips opened in a moan, a name.

"Cyprus."

And he knew. If he just hung on, if he just waited, he would win in the end. "I love Wolfe," only meant so much. So long as she never told him no.

And she still hadn't.

A knock came at the door, pulling Cyprus back to the present. Lance's voice sounded, "It's me."

Cyprus gave the poem a last look, then pushed his chair back. "It's unlocked."

Lance let himself inside. He closed the door and brushed invisible lint from his crimson uniform. "We have an assignment." He stopped when he noticed the notebook open on the desk. "Please tell me that's not another soppy love poem."

"It's not another soppy love poem," Cyprus snapped as he flipped it over and stood. "What assignment?"

Lance groaned. "Cyprus, she is with another man. She _belongs_ to another man. Do you understand that? And the captain of the Scharfrichter, no less. Do you think she's going to trade him in for a lowly guard? Face it. You're almost two hundred years younger than him, and lower ranked. You have no chance."

"So you keep saying." Cyprus turned cold eyes on his friend. Despite the tidy uniform and polished boots, his dark wiry hair stood at odd angles, as though he'd recently run his hands through it. "What is the assignment?"

"Assignment? Oh! Right. We've been assigned to check out a complaint."

"What else?" Cyprus asked sarcastically. "When do we leave? And who are they sending with us?"

Lance hesitated, then admitted reluctantly, "Scharfrichterin Sadihra. But you need to remain professional. If she complains about you..."

"She hasn't yet. When do we leave?"

"Now. Get dressed, and make sure your boots are shined. Scharfrichter Wolfe is in charge of inspecting us before we leave. Since you're trying to steal his woman, I'm sure he's looking for any excuse to reprimand you."

_Not trying_ , Cyprus thought as he headed for the closet _. I am stealing her. It just takes time._

Dressed, Cyprus followed Lance to the Scharfrichter office. Just as he'd been warned, Wolfe was there. Dark brown hair fell to his shoulders and gray eyes were like brittle flint, waiting to spark a fire.

Cyprus' friend and fellow guard Milkavich was already in place, standing at attention. Lance fell in next to him, and Cyprus took the spot on the end.

Wolfe flipped through a sheaf of paperwork. "There's been a complaint filed, a local matter. You'll accompany Scharfrichterinnen Sadihra and Jilsenna. I don't expect any trouble. You should be back to the stronghold by bedtime." He dropped the stack of papers on the nearest desk and looked them over. His gaze lingered on Cyprus for a moment, and his eyes flared with annoyance. "I see you've been assigned to this?"

Cyprus nodded mutely. He might not like the man, but he respected the rank.

Wolfe looked on the verge of saying something, then made a dismissive gesture. "It's no matter. You!" He spun to Milkavich. "Your boots need shined."

Milkavich's reply was lost when Sadihra walked through the door. Golden hair was pulled back in an intricate braid. A black sweater and dark trousers hugged her curvy figure, while red painted lips lit that fire in Wolfe's flinty eyes.

They did the same to Cyprus. Manners dictated he should drop his gaze, but he refused, even as Wolfe put his arms around her and press a kiss to her cheek.

Wolfe noticed her distraction and turned to find the object of her attention. He gave Cyprus a contemptuous once over, then turned back to his girlfriend. "You're sure you prefer to take your sister on this assignment?"

She tore her attention from Cyprus to smile at her boyfriend. "It's nothing. The time away will do us good. We'd planned a woman's day before this came up."

"Yes. I can see you started on the makeup already." He touched just under her made-up lips. "Red suits you."

She flushed and stepped back, tugging at her clothes. "Jilsenna went ahead to requisition the vehicle." She looked at the line of guards, and away as quickly. "Do we really require three guards and a driver for such an assignment?"

Wolfe shrugged. "If you think it's too many choose who to leave behind."

Though he didn't say it, Cyprus knew what Wolfe's preference would be. Sadihra's blue eyes darted over them, then away. For a moment, Cyprus worried she'd give in to the Scharfrichter; that she'd leave him at the citadel.

"Three will be fine. Perhaps the extra manpower will come in handy."

Cyprus almost sagged with relief. It wasn't that Sadihra couldn't take care of herself; she could. She was as strong as he was, maybe even stronger, but he still felt better if he was there, as if his presence could avert disaster.

And maybe it can. I'm the only one of them that can see it coming.

Sadihra interrupted his thoughts, "We should be back soon."

"I know." Wolfe caught her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. "I'll see you when you return. Safe travels, _mein engel_."

Sadihra murmured a suitable reply and hurried out. Lance saluted, elbowing Cyprus with his free arm. He snapped his own salute, then the three marched after the Scharfrichterin.

Milkavich made a point of walking next to Cyprus so he could whisper, "You're welcome." When Cyprus only cocked an eyebrow he mouthed, "I got you this assignment."

Lance rolled his eyes and whispered, "He doesn't need any more encouragement."

"I know. But if you and I went with the Scharfrichterin without him...imagine his agony, not to mention the constant wringing us for details of her every word and move."

Cyprus gave a grunt of disgust and walked faster, leaving them behind. Sometimes their ribbing felt good natured and he could laugh it off, but today it annoyed him.

He fell into step just behind Sadihra. Though she didn't turn around, he saw the quick half turn of her head, the furtive glance back to see her shadow's identity.

When she didn't speak, he asked, "If you don't mind my asking, what is the complaint? No one's bothered to tell me."

"A coven in the country." Sadihra kept her attention focused straight ahead. "They claim they were attacked. We are to assess the damage and see if their story checks out."

"Attacked by other vampires?" Cyprus asked. "If it's such a simple assignment why are they sending two Scharfrichterinnen and three guards?"

"That was my thought as well, but my sister asked to be included, as did you, no doubt."

Though blunt, the words held no rebuke, so he didn't bother to correct her.

Sadihra's sister Jilsenna waited in the garage with the black SUV. Though younger when she'd been turned, they both looked in their mid-twenties. Identical blonde hair was worn in a bun, and blue eyes, darker than Sadihra's, flicked over them with amusement.

"I see your personal guard is here."

Sadihra flushed and gave her sister a gentle shove. "Enough, _Mausi_."

Jilsenna laughed, then her face turned serious as she addressed the guards. "The driver is ready. I assume Scharfrichter Wolfe explained our orders?"

"Not really," Cyprus said, careful to add a salute at the end.

Jilsenna seemed barely able to control her mirth. "He must have been too distracted with other worries, hmmm? A local coven has complained they were attacked and one of their members killed. We are going to take an official statement and investigate the alleged incident. The caller intimated that she knows the culprits, so afterwards I imagine we'll go to their den and interview them as well. From what I can gather, the victim is free of blood debt, so there's a good chance we need only to give them both a stern talking to."

There was a time when Cyprus would have been shocked by that – when he'd have expected a penalty for the murder, but not anymore. Killing one another was acceptable, so long as it was done legally. Had the victim still owed a blood debt, then the murderer would have to compensate the master, essentially for destruction of property. Had it been fallout from a war or disagreement that the Sodalitas had already settled, again there would have been punishment. As there would if the murder was done for no reason. But, so long as the perpetrators had a good excuse, chances were there would be no consequences.

It was a situation he'd once found bizarre, but had learned to accept. After all, if vampires weren't allowed to murder one another, they'd become overpopulated. There were only so many resources available to keep immortals thriving. If they used too many, it would be a disaster.

"We don't expect any trouble," Jilsenna added. "Though to be safe, we should do a weapons check."

Sadihra held out a handful of throwing stars. When used with her ghost hand ability – something much like telekinesis – she could fling them across the room using only her mind. Milkavich and Cyprus had twin daggers, standard issue to the guards, and Lance had the upgraded machete-like blade.

When everything was checked and approved, they climbed into the SUV. Lance sat in the front with the driver. Sadihra and Jilsenna took the middle seats, leaving Milkavich and Cyprus to jam into the back. As the vehicle purred to life, Cyprus' eyes bored into the back of Sadihra's head and her intricately woven hair. Had she done that herself? Had her sister? She'd mentioned a woman's day. Did that mean playing with hair and makeup? Shopping? All those things women liked to do that men wanted out of? Or that most men wanted out of. If given the chance, he'd happily go shopping with her every day.

With a silent sigh, he watched out the window as Munich gave way to farmland. Like Wolfe said, the den they were summoned to was barely ten minutes down country roads. A vampiress met them at the gate, wringing her hands and wailing. She detailed the attack and mentioned a neighboring coven.

"I don't understand. Why would they?" She locked desperate eyes on the Scharfrichterinnen.

Jilsenna made an uncomfortable noise, then broke away to "look around," leaving Sadihra to deal with the vampiress' distress.

"You." Jilsenna motioned to Cyprus. "You can help me."

Though he'd rather stay with Sadihra, he knew better than to say that.

They circled the den; a charming little house that looked as normal as any other. When they reached the backside, Jilsenna came to a stop, hands on her hips, eyes moving over the lack of damage. "Sadihra loves Wolfe."

Cyprus could only blink at the sudden pronouncement.

"I know you plan to wear her down eventually, and you may. You are pretty enough and your poetry is better than any he could attempt."

Cyprus pressed his lips together and looked away. That Sadihra would share it...but of course she would. Jilsenna was her sister. What was a sister for if not that? Still...

"You are sweet, and exciting, and different, and, as I said, you might turn her head for a moment, but I know my sister and it will be only for a moment. The quick heat and passion will disappear as fast as it appeared. She will go back to Wolfe, if he will have her, and you will be left with nothing, assuming you even still want her."

"Of course I would," he bit out, then caught himself.

Jilsenna pressed back a smile. "Maybe. Or maybe you will find that the quest is more alluring than actual possession. But who can say." She stepped away from him, and her friendly air slipped, like changing out one shirt for another. "You'd do well to consider my advice. End this before it goes too far." She rubbed her hands together. "In the meantime, I think we're nearly done here. We just need to look inside at the actual murder scene."

Cyprus didn't reply as he followed Jilsenna back to the others. Sadihra flashed her sister a look that seemed to say, "Did you talk to him?" and Cyprus' spirits sank lower. Had she set up that conversation as well as shared his letters?

But she still hasn't said no.

Though the vampiress – Trina, so Sadihra called her – tried to distract them from going inside, the Scharfrichterinnen headed through the door. Cyprus could smell a male vampire somewhere. Maybe upstairs? He assumed the Scharfrichterinnen would call the vampire down for questioning soon enough. Had it been just Sadihra he'd have asked, but Jilsenna was the kind who'd rebuke him for speaking out of turn.

They moved quickly through small, neat rooms, to a back sitting room. There, chairs were overturned and blood was splattered up the wall. Among the carnage lay a ruined magazine, a broken lamp, and, in the far corner, a red shoe.

"This is where it happened?" Sadihra knelt next to a prone body. Long hair was fanned out on the floor, and a gaping hole in her chest was clotted with fibrous gore. The attacker had ripped out her heart.

Trina twisted her hands, eyes everywhere except the body. "Yes. Yes. Carmella was here, reading, when they barged in."

"How did they get in, again?" Jilsenna asked.

"Through the door." Trina pointed. "We leave it unlatched except during our day slumber."

"And there was only you and Carmella here?" Sadihra pressed.

"Yes, yes. There's only the two of us left in our coven." Trina nodded urgently, but her eyes strayed to the attic.

"And there's no one else here now?" Sadihra asked sharply.

The vampiress shook her head and Cyprus frowned. He sniffed again. There was definitely a male upstairs.

"Then you won't mind if we check?" Jilsenna asked sarcastically.

Trina gave a small yelp as the Scharfrichterin climbed the ladder to the attic access, but made no move to stop her.

Sadihra met her sister's eyes, then Jilsenna slipped around to the back of the ladder. She held on with one hand and lifted the other to the attic door, ready to pull it open. Cyprus stepped closer, body tensed in expectation.

Sadihra climbed the front of the ladder, then gave a nod. Jilsenna jerked the trapdoor open. Sadihra bounded up, ripped something large out of the attic and flung it to the floor. As it hit, Cyprus realized it was a vampire. Before the prone male could get up, Cyprus tackled him, dodging swinging limbs.

Jilsenna dropped to the floor and pried something from their attacker's hand. It was a red high heeled shoe; the match to the one in the living room.

"You should have just let me clean it up!" he bellowed.

"Clean up the mess from your murder, you mean?" Jilsenna turned the shoe over in her hand. "Obviously she wanted you to pay for your crime."

"My crime?" he cried. "Trina killed her, then wanted to blame Paulie's coven-"

"Elke!" Trina cried. "How can you tell such lies?"

He stopped struggling to laugh. "Are you joking? You don't expect them to believe...I wasn't even here when it happened!"

Cyprus watched Sadihra as she looked from their prisoner to the vampiress, and back again. A decision settled on her brow. With a nod, she motioned Cyprus to stand down.

He shook his head and tried to point out the folly of releasing their suspect, but Sadihra's expression grew harder. With nothing else to do, Cyprus reluctantly stood, glaring a warning at his prisoner. If the vampire so much as stepped near Sadihra, he'd snap his neck.

Elke stood. He brushed himself off, then glared at Trina. With a squeal, the vampiress ducked behind Milkavich. "It was him!" she cried. "He made me lie. He threatened me!"

"Are you serious?" Elke demanded.

Sadihra motioned them both to silence. "First, who are you? Second, if you're innocent, why were you hiding?"

"I'm Elke, fledgling of Paulie. I was hiding because Trina stuffed me in the attic and told me to be quiet so I didn't ruin her plan."

"Liar!" Trina cried. "Look! He has one of my sister's shoes!"

"Because you tossed it into the attic after me!"

Not a mind reader, Cyprus couldn't tell who was lying, but his demon eye powers could do something more; he could see into the future – or to a possible future. He closed his eyes and concentrated on Trina. He pictured her tightly curled hair, and her overzealous eyeshadow. He saw her standing in the court, heard her squeal her innocence, then he saw a hazy shape lead her away, her hands bound.

She would be found guilty.

He opened his eyes to find Sadihra watching him. With a nod, he motioned to Trina. Sadihra gave him the smallest of smiles, and clamped her hand around the vampiress' wrist. "You are under arrest. You will come with us to the Stronghold."

Trina tried to pull away. "I haven't done anything! He-" She faltered. Her face hardened as she realized that wouldn't work. "There are no laws against killing your coven mates!"

"No, but there are laws against filing false complaints and trying to frame another coven." Jilsenna took the vampiress' other arm. "We'll take her back to the stronghold."

Trina wailed as Jilsenna hauled her out of the house, flanked by Lance and Milkavich. Though Cyprus knew he should follow, he still didn't trust Elke.

Sadihra apparently felt the same. She turned hard suspicious eyes on the vampire. "You said you are a member of Paulie's coven, correct?"

"No," he replied. "Paulie was my master, but I split with the coven. I was born a follower of Zoroastrianism and, though I gave in to evil thinking, I decided it was time to correct my balance, and return to the right path."

Cyprus recognized the name of the religion, though he didn't know much about it. "That doesn't explain what you're doing here."

Sadihra gave him a sharp look for cutting in, but pressed, "Why are you here, Elke?"

"Trina and I...we have a relationship. When I came to see her, she'd already killed her sister and told me that she'd called the Sodalitas and planned to blame Paulie's coven. When I left Paulie, it wasn't under pleasant terms, so I was willing to go along. I know it was wrong – knew it was wrong when I agreed – but..." He trailed off and shrugged.

"Why were you hiding?" Sadihra asked sharply.

"Trina was afraid that my presence would complicate things. She said you'd ask for my identity and once you found out I was from Paulie's coven, it would make it look suspicious."

"She could have worked it to her advantage," Sadihra said. "You left under bad circumstances and came here. They could have attacked to get revenge on you."

"The bad circumstances were one sided," Elke muttered. "They wouldn't bother over me."

"I see. And why did she want to blame them? Was it revenge that they'd wronged you?"

He scoffed. "She wants the hunting ground. She and Carmella fought often over whether to go to war for it."

"I assume Carmella didn't want to?" Sadihra stopped him from answering to ask, "Where is your den?"

"About thirty-two kilometers from here."

"Good. Return to it, and stay there. Someone will summon you to testify. If they don't find you, you'll be hunted down and arrested as an accomplice."

Elke nodded his understanding and Sadihra turned to Cyprus. "Come."

With a final warning glare at Elke, he followed her out of the house. Sadihra stopped just outside the door to turn back, lips parted, when Lance came around the corner. He stopped, snapped a salute, and asked, "Are we ready to leave, Scharfrichterin?"

Whatever she'd have said disappeared and she barked a quick, "Yes," then motioned them to the vehicle.

They stuffed the prisoner in the back, between Cyprus and Milkavich. Trina's trembling, distraught persona was gone, replaced by a cold, angry woman who stared straight ahead, her lips pressed together. When they arrived at the Stronghold, Milkavich led her inside, Jilsenna on his heels.

Sadihra swung out of the vehicle and glanced at Cyprus. "Meet me for a drink," she muttered, then marched away as if she'd never spoken.

Lance arched an eyebrow. "Did I hear what I think I heard?"

Cyprus closed the car up. "That depends what you thought you heard."

"I thought I heard her invite you for a drink?"

Cyprus shrugged and tried to hide his smile. Perhaps it was working. Perhaps tonight she'd finally give in.

Or she might tell you to go to hell.

Anything was possible.

With a quick nod to Lance, he left the parking garage for the building. He tried not to walk too fast but, by the time he was past the guards' room, he was moving at a good clip. No matter how many times he tried to quash his rising excitement, it would bubble up again.

_Calm down_ , he told himself. _It's not like we haven't had dinner together before_.

In his room, he stripped his uniform and changed his clothes. He ripped the unfinished poem from the notebook and scribbled:

I wait only your word, a single yes to fall from lips

As perfect as the petals of a rose, and twice as soft

Sweet angel, shine your light into this lonely darkness,

Return to me my freedom, the soul that I have lost.

It wasn't the best he'd ever written, but it would do. He folded it up, stuck it in his pocket, then checked his reflection in the mirror. Coppery red hair was long around his shoulders, and brown eyes held the hope that this would be the night, the fulfillment of the vision he'd seen so many times.

The night she finally makes up her mind.

He calmed his pounding heart and strode from the room to the elevators. The Garden had closed two years ago, but a small place with checkered tablecloths and violin music had taken its place. Though it wasn't as picturesque, it was more intimate than the main restaurant with its large open rooms.

When Cyprus reached the doorway to the café, he stopped. His hand dove into his pocket to touch the folded offering. The texture of the paper soothed him, and he marched inside.

He found Sadihra seated in the back, looking over a list of additives. She smiled over the menu, though it didn't seem as warm as usual. Had something happened?

He took his seat, but, before he could ask her, a waiter appeared. They placed their order, and, when they were finally alone, he tugged the paper free and held it out. "It's not finished."

She looked at it, looked at him, then dropped her gaze. "Cyprus. I..."

His heart hammered and he closed his eyes, blocking out the now for visions of the future. It was still there. Her naked skin. The brush of her breath. The soft call of his name. It would still happen.

Or _could_ still happen. The future was always in flux, as his master had warned him again and again.

Cyprus came back to the now, to find her looking at him expectantly. When he didn't respond, she made an aggravated noise. "Were you listening to me?" His guilt was on his face and she repeated, "I didn't ask my sister to speak to you, though I know she gave you that impression. Still, she's right. You need to stop pursuing me, for your own good."

"For my own good?" he asked, the poem still held out to her.

With a soft sound of irritation she took it, though she didn't open it. "Yes. People are laughing at you behind your back. Soon it will be to your face. Wolfe-"

"Thinks it's an annoying joke," he finished for her. "Let him. Let all of them. I'm not as worried about others' opinions as you are."

"I'm not worried about their opinions," she snapped. "Just..."

"Just their approval. You feel you need it, because deep down you don't think you're good enough. But you are." He caught her hand, and she gave a half tug. It wasn't a quarter of the resistance she could have offered. Still, he relaxed, giving her a chance to pull away. As he hoped, she didn't.

"You're perfect just the way you are, Sadihra. You're strong and beautiful and smart. You don't need Wolfe's approval, or Hethin's approval, or even your sister's. It's your life. Live it the way you want."

She pulled free to drop her hands in her lap, her gaze following. "What if I don't know what I want?"

And there it was. That ever widening crack in her thin façade of resistance. He lowered his voice and leaned closer, elbows on the checkered tablecloth. "Then take your time and decide."

He watched her, trying to penetrate through her skull to her swirling thoughts. What he wouldn't give to be a mind reader right then, to know what she was thinking, feeling.

_No._ Better to be a demon eye, to know the surety of the future. To know that she would be his. Without that, he'd have never pursued her, never tried.

She gave a shaking breath and looked up. "There's talk of something in Italy; something bad. They may have to send Scharfrichter. Wolfe's requested we go."

"You and him?"

She nodded. "I have a bad feeling about it, Cyprus. If you could...If you could see if you sense anything?"

He closed his eyes and let the café slip away, picturing her face, Italy, an assignment. He saw her and her sister. Saw dark shadows, smelled deep earth, then she lay naked on the bed, her body painted in shadows, her hand reaching for him.

"Cyprus."

It would happen in Italy.

"It looks fine," he said, suppressing his raging thoughts. "I don't see anything bad. Everything will be fine."

She nodded, biting her lip uncertainly, but Cyprus barely noticed. His mind was already churning, making plans; plans that hinged on one place, one event.

I just have to make sure I go to Italy. Even if I have to bribe someone.

And bribe someone, he did. He handed the head of the guards a month's pay. The vampire stared at the cash, counted it, stared at it some more, then finally stuffed it in his pocket. "Right. You'll need to pack. This might take a few days."

Cyprus nearly skipped back to his room where he stuffed things in a bag. The assignment seemed straightforward enough; the Gilda was having trouble with a coven who'd barricaded themselves underground in an ancient catacomb.

Cyprus had been in the office when the _Gilda_ called. The guard in charge had passed the phone to Hethin, the second in command of the Scharfrichter. Hethin had listened a moment, then kindly suggested that if the mission was so easy, the _Gilda_ should send their Boia, their version of elite law enforcers. The Italian's reply was that they only had six who were busy with other assignments. "We'd have a larger force, but the Sodalitas' laws limit how many _Boia_ we can have. They say it is their duty to handle such things. Respectfully, I now say, handle it."

Hethin had hung up angry and called Wolfe, who'd already volunteered to go. "I knew it would come to this. I'll take another Scharfrichter and six guards. If their reports are accurate, that should be enough."

That was when Cyprus hurried out of the office, down to the bank to make his withdrawal, and back again. Hethin was gone, leaving only the guard. Cyprus didn't bother to ask which Scharfrichter Wolfe chose to accompany him; he'd seen it already. It would be Sadihra and somehow, someway, at last his persistence would pay off. At last she would be his.

It was two hours until Cyprus was to report for duty. In that time he found Lance and casually explained where he'd be. He didn't bother to share the visions he'd had – visions he'd checked and rechecked while he waited. Lance would only snicker or dismiss them, or, worse, joke about it. With his victory so close, he wasn't in the mood for humor.

He arrived in the Scharfrichter office ten minutes early. Hethin was back behind the desk, filling out paperwork. Wolfe stood in front of him, mid conversation, his face agitated.

"-the French. I can't leave it to just anyone."

"Then go yourself," Hethin murmured without looking up.

"Yes, I had considered that, but Italy..." Wolfe trailed off and frowned. "You could go in my place."

Cypress stiffened. Did Wolfe mean to send Hethin to France, or Italy? The second held infinite possibilities. Without Wolfe there, his vision was more likely to come true – or was it? Hethin, with his pale hair and winter eyes, seemed more like a father than friend. If a paternal figure was there, Sadihra would be on guard, and there would be little chance...

There's little chance with either of them present.

Hethin looked up to Wolfe sharply. "Go to which?"

Cyprus could feel Wolfe's hesitation. "Italy, I suppose. It's less important."

Hethin scoffed and looked back to his paper. "The matter in France is delicate, I'll give you that."

"And they'll accept no less than the commander." Wolfe drummed his fingers on the counter top.

Cyprus wished for the millionth time that he was a mind reader. What was delicate?

Finally, Wolfe announced, "It can't be helped. I'll make my apologies to Sadihra and leave within the hour."

He spun on his heel, bound for the door, but pulled up short when he saw Cyprus lurking. "What are you doing?"

Cyprus snapped a sharp salute. Wolfe only rolled his eyes and pushed past him without waiting for an answer.

It's probably better that way.

Hethin didn't look at Cyprus as he took a seat, though the guard – with a pocketful of Cyprus' cash – nodded to him and made a note in the ledger, marking that he'd reported for duty.

With minutes to wait, Cyprus leaned back, closed his eyes, and checked the vision again. It was still there, still just the same.

You're becoming obsessive.

The sound of boots on marble jerked him to the present. The other five guards filed in, then took chairs, their travel bags at their feet, just as his was.

It was a few minutes of uncomfortable silence before Sadihra breezed in, Jilsenna on her heels. Both wore their hair pulled up, but Sadihra was the more beautiful of the two, as usual. Her ruby lips made Cyprus think of blood, of the warm coppery taste, the deep, echoing-

She glanced to him as she passed for the desk and their eyes met. His chest caught and, for a moment, he lost everything but the deep blue sea of her gaze. Then it was gone, and she was standing before Hethin. The pale Scharfrichter shuffled his papers aside. "Wolfe's requested I take his place."

Sadihra shook her head. "That won't be necessary. You only returned four hours ago. Jilsenna is more than capable of filling in."

Cyprus swallowed down his joy. Not only would Wolfe not be there, but without Hethin...

Hethin hesitated, then shrugged. "If you prefer. The _Gilda_ insisted it's an easy task."

Sadihra rolled her eyes. "In that case, they should handle it themselves."

"As I told them." Hethin motioned to the waiting guards. "Your entourage."

Sadihra followed his hand with her eyes, then snapped her attention back to him. "I assumed so."

Though she didn't say it, Cyprus understood. The moment she'd seen him, she'd known he was coming with her; knew that he would always come with her.

And I will.

Sadihra briefed them on the way to the airfield. A coven had gone on a rampage, wiped out three other covens, and massacred several humans before barricading themselves in an ancient catacomb. One of the _Boia_ , initially sent to investigate, had tried to oust them, but had been unsuccessful on his own. The rest of the _Boia_ were in the field, occupied with other incidents, so the _Gilda_ had called Munich.

It wasn't unusual for the other strongholds to pass on jobs they didn't want to do. In the end Italy – and the other regional institutions – resented the Sodalitas, and the Kugsankal, for ruling them, and were happy to get back at them whenever they could, even if it just meant minor inconveniences.

Sadihra's plan was simple. They'd land at the airfield, where they'd meet a representative of the _Gilda_ , who had been ordered to secure dynamite. They'd then travel to the catacomb entrance, blow their way in, deal with the coven, head back to the airfield, and make it to the Gilda's stronghold before sunrise.

The briefing over, Sadihra took her seat. Cyprus leaned back to ponder where his vision fit in. Was it after they'd killed the coven? It must be, but what would prompt it?

It will be interesting to find out.

They touched down as planned. A guard in a snappy uniform met them, then motioned them to a pair of vans. Drivers hurried them down twisty roads, sometimes narrow between claustrophobic hills, other times with wide open views that would have been magnificent in daylight. At last a medieval city sprang into view, huddled on a crumbling hillside, as if it were part of the mountain. Cypress could tell at a glance it was abandoned; no lights, no cars, no movement. They parked, pulling over against the hillside, and the guard confirmed his suspicions; it had been empty for some time, which made it the perfect place for the rogue coven to hide out.

"Though not in the city," he clarified, pointing to a collapsed structure. "It is perhaps too dangerous even for them. It is the catacombs beneath where they are sealed."

They climbed out of the vehicles and met the rest of the group. The driver of the other van handed Jilsenna a bulky bag, his face full of curiosity, as if he didn't know the contents. Jilsenna offered no explanation, only slung it over her shoulder and nodded toward the city. "How do we get in, again?"

"There is an entrance, this one." Their driver pointed around the hillside. "But as you know it is-"

"Sealed," Sadihra finished. "We know." She looked to her sister, who patted the bag with a smirk. "And you're sure there are no other exits or entrances?"

"None," the driver assured them. "I looked over the old city plans personally. There is only the sealed-"

"We understand," Sadihra snapped. "Show us."

The driver led them over a rusty fence and across a space of tangles grass, to the foot of the city's old walls. Cyprus looked up it, imagining the people who had built them so long ago. Impulsively, he touched the stone and breathed in, eyes closed, as if he could taste the history. If only he was an angel eye, he could have, and not just tasted it, but seen it as well; looked into the faces of old masons, of bustling villagers, to a time when the ruins sheltered more than ghosts and vampires.

"This way."

The driver's voice broke the spell, and Cyprus fell in line behind him. His eyes were drawn to the back of Sadihra's head, the delicate twist of the braid, the way the moonlight glinted on the clip which held it in place. Jilsenna glanced back over her shoulder, caught his gaze, and shook her head. Her eyes said what her words had previously, "Forget it. You'll never win her."

But you're wrong.

They wound around the hill, following the old wall, until they reached a part where the rocks had given away in a landslide. The driver picked his way over carefully, warning them of the ground's instability. "The landslides are the reason the city has been abandoned."

Sadihra stopped mid-climb. Cyprus hurried to her side, as if she needed his help. She ignored the hand he offered to glare at the guard. "Why wasn't this mentioned before? When I asked for dynamite?"

The driver shrugged. "I'm sorry. I wasn't the one you spoke to, so I can't say. But dynamite is a very bad idea."

"Obviously!" Her angry blue eyes found Cyprus' and seemed to say, "Idiots!"

He nodded his agreement and whispered, "Aren't they all?"

She scoffed, but let him take her arm as they finished their climb, trailing the rest of the group. Her voice was low as she snapped, "Had they explained the situation we could have come up with another plan. Now what are we supposed to do? How are we going to blast our way into their sealed chambers if doing so will bring the whole hillside down on us?"

"We could bring it down on them? Crush them to death, or at least bury them alive?"

"No. With my luck they'd survive and climb out to wreak even more havoc, then it would be a reprimand. We may have to send someone back for tools. A pickaxe or such."

"Send the _Gilda_ guards. They're the ones who should have brought them, already."

"But that would have made our jobs easier," she replied bitterly. "No one from the _Gilda_ will ever do that."

"Or from the _la Société_ ," Cyprus added, thinking of Wolfe and the French's demand for their leader.

"Or from any of them," Sadihra muttered. "Those in power are too old. They remember the time before the Kugsankal, when they ruled themselves. They did not relinquish their autonomy willingly. The day will come when they will wish to take their independence back."

The group ahead came to a stop. With a sharp look from Sadihra, so did their conversation. It wouldn't do to have anyone overhearing. The wrong person relaying it with the wrong inflections could turn the complaints into seditious plots, leaving the pair of them before an angry council.

_Or at least me,_ Cyprus thought. That would make Wolfe happy.

He'd finally be rid of me.

Jilsenna waved her sister over, and Sadihra joined her. Cyprus inched closer, until he could see a wall of stone that had been built into the side of the hill, now mostly a tangle of weeds and fallen stones. Amidst the decay was a wooden door that had been pried partially open. Beyond it, a mound of rubble, chunks of rock and brick, blocked anyone getting inside.

"Has the tunnel collapsed?" Sadihra asked.

Jilsenna shook her head. "I don't think so. I believe they were purposefully stacked there. It should be easy to pull the door free, then we can begin shoveling out the rocks. Though it would be easier with tools."

"Yes, Cyprus and I discussed the same thing. Shovels and pickaxes. We should send someone."

Jilsenna glanced to Cyprus. "Yes. We should."

But she wasn't getting rid of him that easily. "It would be best for our hosts to go. They know where to get the supplies, and the vehicles are theirs."

"Yes," Sadihra agreed. "You," she pointed to one of their own guards, Guillermo, Cyprus thought his name was. "Go with them and hurry back. We'll start excavating while you're gone."

The drivers snapped salutes and headed back the way they'd come, leaving seven of them on the overgrown hillside.

Sadihra stood, hands on her hips, surveying the blockage. "Come. If we work quickly we might be finished before they return."

Under Sadihra's orders, they made a chain of vampires to haul the rock away, passing each chunk down the line where the final guard dropped it in a heap. Cyprus could hear the guards at the end muttering, wanting to know why they'd sent for tools if they were just going to do it themselves, anyway. Though he didn't answer them, he knew the reason. If Sadihra could do it without the tools, without the extra help, then it was just more proof that she was equal to – or perhaps even better than – the male Scharfrichter. It was just one more chance to prove herself.

Like choosing to bring Jilsenna instead of Hethin. Two women completing the job men couldn't.

Jilsenna held up a hand. "Hold."

Cyprus dropped the chunk of stone the guard passed to him, and approached the catacombs' opening. They'd made a narrow channel through the rubble, just big enough to allow them to pass through.

He stopped next to Sadihra and inhaled deeply. Past the dust of rock and stone were the damp smells of the underground; dirt, decay, wet soil. Under that he could just catch a whiff of immortality. Four vampires? No, he could smell a fifth, at least. All hidden deep in the subterranean labyrinth.

The other guards had joined them and stood in a knot at the mouth to the catacombs, smelling for their enemies. One near Cyprus' elbow – Johan – frowned. "They're a long way in. Surely they know we're here. Why haven't they come closer to stop us?"

"Perhaps they aren't aware of us?" another suggested.

Jilsenna motioned them to silence. "They've no doubt heard us, and know we're here. It's more likely there's a back entrance, and they're heading toward it, looking to escape."

Cyprus cut in, "The _Gilda_ guard said-"

"They also said we could use dynamite." Sadihra pointed to the lumpy bag Jilsenna had abandoned. "They'll say anything to make sure they don't have to handle this themselves." She glanced to her sister. "If they are escaping, we should hurry."

Jilsenna nodded. "I'll go first, the guards in between, and you can bring up the rear. Though it's not the most glamorous position, it will keep you-know who from watching _your_ rear as we go."

The guards snickered, and Jilsenna stifled a laugh. Sadihra seemed to shrink in on herself, her cheeks pink and her eyes narrowed. Though not empathic, Cyprus could feel her embarrassment, the humiliation of her subordinates laughing at her. But what she didn't understand was that she wasn't meant to be the butt of the joke. He was.

He glared at Jilsenna, ready to snap at her, to tell her how inappropriate that remark was, given their positions, to chide her for embarrassing her sister, but before he could, she addressed the group. "Weapons out, boys. Let's go."

She pushed in and the guards followed. Cyprus tried to catch Sadihra's eyes, tried to communicate to her that it wasn't like that, that he was sorry she was embarrassed, but she wouldn't look at him.

When the last guard disappeared into the channel of rubble, Cyprus hung back a moment. "Sadihra-"

She cleared her throat loudly and nodded to the opening, still without looking at him.

He sighed. "She was trying to embarrass me, not you. But it isn't like that. You know it. I'm not some lusting boy eyeing a piece of meat. It's-"

"Go!"

When he hesitated, she grabbed his arm, and half threw him towards the door. "If you think they're making jokes now, wait until we have to rush to catch up! Go!"

"Fine, but at least listen to me later, all right?"

Her only answer was to push him again. With a sigh of surrender, he drew the long knife at his side and headed in. They'd hauled away rubble, but not all the way to the ground, leaving him to pick his way carefully through the narrow channel. He came out of it into a corridor equally narrow, with a low roof. Walls of stone were slick with moisture, and roots hung in his face, clotted with dirt.

He waited for Sadihra to traverse the last of the stones, then nodded ahead to the darkness. Though he couldn't see the others, he could smell them, working their way through the tunnel.

"We should catch up quickly." Sadihra gave him another sharp shove. "Go."

They hurried through the dark tunnel, drawing closer to their comrades. Though the ceiling seemed to drop lower as they went, Cyprus had to admit he was grateful. With no opening on either side of the passage, it meant no one could sneak up on them from behind. It was one less thing to worry about.

And then a passageway yawned to his right. He drew up, arm out to stop Sadihra.

"Wha-"

He shushed her, then crept to the offshoot. He peered down it and inhaled deeply, checking for the smell of immortals.

"There's no one there," Sadihra said impatiently. "Come on."

Though she was right – he didn't smell anyone either – there was something _wrong_ with that tunnel. Some reason they shouldn't put their backs to it...

Worry niggled at him as they turned a corner to find their fellow guards up ahead. Here the walls had deep shelves heaped with old skeletons. Bones didn't scare Cyprus anymore; they were merely a reminder of mortality he didn't possess, a death he wasn't afraid of.

The deep shelves disappeared, and the corridor tightened. The walls closed in, the ceiling dropped, until Cyprus was hurrying towards his comrades, shoulders hunched and back stooped. Peering through the bodies of his allies, he could see a doorway ahead. Hopefully wherever it led was taller.

Johan, the last guard in the procession, turned back, a smirk on his face, ready with a comment like, "Nice of you to catch up," or "Wonder what took you so long?" but Jilsenna's cry cut him off.

Sadihra surged forward, shoving Cyprus into Johan. He struggled to get his arm free and force his way around the other guard, but the passageway was too tight. The clink of weapons echoed off the slick stone, followed by the smell of blood.

"Jilsenna!" Sadihra shouted. The guards in front cried out, but Cyprus couldn't see past the narrow tunnel, couldn't see around the crush of bodies.

"Phantoms! It's an ambush! They're phantoms!"

Phantoms. Vampires who could essentially turn themselves invisible, who could hide their presence. To be able to do so at such a distance...such vampires would have to be more than troublesome young rogues. They'd have to be old. Very old.

And smart.

Though Cyprus couldn't see ahead, he knew what was going on. That door would lead to a bigger room, all right. A bigger room where the phantoms stood, waiting for them to pop out, single file, so they could hack them down one at a time.

That's not going to happen.

He shoved back, pushing Sadihra down the tunnel. He expected resistance. Instead she shouted for a retreat and hurried ahead of him. The narrow tunnel gave way to the bone chambers, and he straightened gratefully, Johan on his heels. How much farther was it to the exit?

Sadihra stopped, weapon ready, eyes narrowed. Cyprus tried to shove her deeper into the passage, but she pushed him back. "We can face them here. It's big enough. Let them come out of the tunnel one by one while _we_ pick them off!"

Not only was the tunnel wider, but with the large carved out shelves, they could easily stand three across. In unison, Johan and Cyprus cleared away the clattering bones, each leaping up on the ledge on either side of Sadihra. The others shoved into the chamber, doing the same, leaving Jilsenna in the front.

Cyprus could smell her blood, but he didn't have time to see the wound before the onslaught came. Not from in front, but from behind. Fangs and blades flashing, biting, cutting in the dark.

More phantoms, from that empty passage – the empty passage that wasn't so empty after all.

Cyprus spun to face them, leaping from the shelf to land before Sadihra. The phantoms dropped their shield, and he could see them, smell them. There were at least ten between him and the exit, and who knew how many behind them.

So much for four or five rogues.

With no time for strategy, Cyprus hacked and slashed at everything, one eye on his battle and the other on Sadihra. He knew she didn't need protected, that she could take care of herself, but what if she did? What if she needed him and he missed it? What if she died because of it? The death that had seemed so laughable moments ago now pressed close in the damp tunnel.

He flung one of his attackers into the shelf, scattering bones, then spun in time to catch another. Weaker than the older vampire, he was knocked back, stumbling into Johan.

Cyprus didn't have time to check on the others, to see what was happening, only to leap up and jump back to it. Enemies surged past him, slamming into the guards behind him. He let them go, busy with the fight in front.

A large vampire pounced. Cyprus met him, trying to push him toward the exit. The monster roared, snapping fangs in his face. Cyprus barely missed the bite, but wasn't lucky enough to stop the blade. The knife stabbed into his thigh, and sent him reeling. He pulled back, and charged again, glancing to see Sadihra slamming a vampire into the wall. She waved her free hand and a skull zipped through the air to smash against her enemy's face, blinding him long enough for her to stab her blade through his chest.

Cyprus' attention shifted back to his attacker, but not in time to avoid him. The monster tackled him to the tunnel floor. Fangs ripped into his shoulder, through his clothes. He struggled under the weight of the vampire's body, fighting to free his sword arm.

His enemy howled suddenly, and rolled away. Free, Cyprus jumped to his feet. Sadihra hopped onto the carved shelf, the monstrous vampire snarling at her. Cyprus made to attack when another enemy leapt at him.

The chaos blurred; black and red, pain, anger, terror, the smell of damp and death. Vampires screamed, though Cyprus couldn't identify the voices. Then Sadihra shrieked. He dodged a blow to spin around and see bones flying, pelting their enemies, creating a path to Jilsenna's slumped form.

Oh no.

Cyprus struggled toward her, but couldn't shake his foes. He glanced back when he could, to see Sadihra fending off a vampire, one knee on the ground next to Jilsenna's broken body. He had a nanosecond view of her hollowed out chest, the broken bones and exposed gore where her heart had once been, before he was distracted by the fight again.

He killed his opponent and fell back, tripping over Johan's fallen frame. He caught himself on the carved shelf, barely missing the swing of an enemy blade. From the corner of his eye he could see other bodies heaped on the ground. He didn't have time to count them, only to defend himself from the onslaught.

And then, suddenly, there was no one in front of him. He spun back to see Sadihra not two feet away. Without thought, he grabbed her and ran.

Vampires raced behind them. Cyprus' gate was uneven, his thigh still bleeding, and his other knee twisted. He glanced over his shoulder to Sadihra. Her hair had fallen in a cascade of ragged blonde. Her face was streaked in scarlet and he could see the bloody cuts in her shirt, evidence of her wounds. She waved her free hand wildly behind her, using her ghost hand powers to rip loose stones free from the walls and fling them back at their pursuers.

They rounded the corner, and raced to the remnant of the rubble. Cyprus stopped and shoved Sadihra past him, forcing her into the narrow corridor first. He shoved behind her; the path too narrow to turn and defend himself. He could hear their enemies drawing closer, feel their throbbing presence as it grew nearer...

And then he burst out into the night. Sadihra was already planted, hands raised, stones levitating around her, ready to fly at their foes. Cyprus dropped into a fighting stance, but he didn't get a chance to attack. The three vampires were barely through the door when Sadihra let the rocks fly. They slammed into them, knocking them back against the hillside. Before they could struggle up, another wave hit, and another, pounding flesh, breaking bone, smashing skulls.

They slid to the ground, but still Sadihra sent another wave of stone. She waved her hand, summoning another, but Cyprus limped to her, catching her arm. "Sadihra! Stop! Enough!"

She blinked, and the rocks dropped back to the ground, taking her will to fight with them. She staggered back and would have fallen if Cyprus hadn't caught her. He held her close, too terrified to enjoy the moment. The catacombs' entrance gaped black, a hole into hell. He could sense the rest of their enemies, still inside, drawing closer...

"We need to go." He released her and tried to tug her toward the road. When she didn't move, he looked back to see her staring at the entrance, blue eyes glazed with shock.

"Jilsenna," she murmured. The word was like a touchstone and she shook her head, fighting back to herself. "Jilsenna. She's inside. She's-"

"She's dead! We can't save her. They're all goddamn dead! We need to go or we'll be dead too!"

She hesitated another moment, then turned, hurrying with him across the rubble strewn grass. Cyprus stumbled over the scattered rocks, hidden in the weeds, his attention turned behind them, to the nightmare mouth, waiting for it to belch out the horde of monsters.

They reached the fence, so easy to climb earlier, now a barrier they could barely overcome. Cyprus stripped off his ruined coat and flung it over the wires, a little padding from the sharp ends. He boosted Sadihra over, then climbed it himself. His leg buckled on the other side, and he landed painfully on his twisted knee.

"Cyprus!" Sadihra rushed to help him. They hurried toward the abandoned van, leaning heavily on one another, looking back the way they'd come. Always looking back.

When they reached the vehicle, Cyprus was relieved to find the doors unlocked and keys in the ignition. And why not? When the _Gilda_ driver left it, he intended to be back in a moment; to spend his night tucked safely in the van while they died in the tunnels below the mountain.

Instead he's safely away, gathering tools we don't need.

Sadihra took the driver's seat, and Cyprus pulled himself into the passenger side, leaning at a painful angle. The van fired to life. They both gave the entrance a final, terrified look before she peeled away, throwing dirt behind them.

They careened down the narrow road. When a mile had passed, Cyprus relaxed enough to pull himself upright into the seat. He glanced to Sadihra, to her white knuckled hold on the steering wheel, then to the speedometer. "We should slow down a little."

"No. Not yet."

He started to reach for her, to lay a hand on her arm or her shoulder. "We're far enough away. They can't catch us. We-"

"I said no!"

The explosion shocked him enough to pull back. "All right. I'm sorry. All right."

She shook her head, as if shaking away the webs of terror that still held her. "No, it's...We need to call this in. Call the office. Tell Hethin. Tell him..."

Her voice cracked and Cyprus reached for his pocket, for his cellphone, but the pocket wasn't there. He patted himself with dirty hands, only to realize he'd left his coat draped over the fence.

"I'll have to use yours."

She nodded and went for her own, steering with one hand. She came away with nothing and quickly patted herself down, as he'd done. The van veered to the left. Cyprus grabbed the wheel in time to swerve them back to the road, but the rising panic in her eyes deflated any relief.

"What? What is it?"

"My cellphone. I can't find it."

He continued to steer while she searched, going so far as to lean up and check her back pockets, but the device was gone.

She dropped back into the seat and took the wheel, blue eyes snapping with fear. "It's all right. We'll call it in when we reach the _Gilda's_ stronghold."

"Is that where we're going?" When she didn't answer, he pressed, "Is that where we're going?"

"I don't know!" She relented, her voice lower, but no less panicked. "I don't know how to get there, or even where we are. I...I just boarded the plane, followed orders. The pilots know. The drivers know. But we..."

She trailed off and Cyprus let it go. He was no better. He knew the _Gilda's_ stronghold was in Rome, but he had no idea how far that was, or even what direction it was in.

They drove in silence, winding down the narrow roads. As miles passed and the horror faded, Cyprus was aware of the smell of blood that clung to them; the scent of death. He wiped at his face to find gel-like gore, already crusting as it dried. He felt it hardening in his hair, saw it caked on his hands. Sadihra was just as filthy. Wherever they were going, he hoped it had a shower.

Not that they had clean clothes. Or did they? He'd packed a bag, but where was it? Was it in this van, or the one the drivers had taken to get tools? It was just another unknown in a string of uncertainties.

Sadihra broke the heavy silence, "It will be dawn soon. In the next town we need to find a room."

Did she mean take one or rent one? He didn't press for details, only nodded. Covered in blood, renting seemed impossible. No human would give them a room without calling the police.

No matter how much we pay them.

Cyprus had underestimated the power of a bribe. Just as one had gotten him sent on this mission, so a large one – levied at the inn keeper – had gotten them a no questions asked room. Around the corner, they'd taken turns with what was probably a housekeeper. Her blood was hot, delicious, and healing. When Sadihra discarded her unconscious body, he could already feel his wounds knitting together, his swollen knee going down.

When they were sated, he surveyed the tangle of luggage in the back of the van, uncertain if his bag was even there.

Sadihra moved to help him, but he motioned her to the building. "Go inside and get a shower. I'll bring our bags in when I find them."

She looked ready to argue, but relented with a nod.

He watched her go, fallen hair bouncing on her tense shoulders. She stopped suddenly and looked back. He expected a cutting remark, a reprimand for following her with his eyes. Instead she said softly, "Don't take too long."

His chest caught, and he turned back to the luggage, fighting to control the pounding of his heart. Her voice was raw, desperate, lonely, but most of all, tinged with need. For him. She needed him. The thought tightened his body, and left him struggling to concentrate on his task.

Opening bags, he found two with women's clothing – one would be Sadihra's but the other her sister's. Her dead sister's. If he gave her the wrong one...He could imagine how it would hurt her, like a punch to a gaping wound. But which was which?

He rifled through the belongings, trying to ignore undergarments, seeking something familiar. Socks and black jeans seemed identical. Then he spotted a pale green sweater. Pastels were Jilsenna's colors. Sadihra wore darker tones, earthier colors.

He abandoned the bag for the other, grabbed his own luggage, then headed for the room. The unlatched door was an invitation he wished she hadn't left – anyone could have opened it – but now wasn't the time to comment on it.

The soft sound of the shower leaked out of the bathroom. He hesitated, then knocked on the door to announce he had her clothes. At her reply, he opened the door enough to slide the bag inside, then quickly shut it. His brain whirled with a thousand unbidden images; skin, hot water running over-

He chastised himself. They'd just survived near death, that itself should be enough to drive such thoughts from his head. So why wasn't it?

He needed a distraction, and they needed to report to the Sodalitas. The two seemed to go together, so he used the motel room phone. It rang several times before a snappy voice answered. Cyprus poured out the situation – the ambush, the deaths, the lost phones and their flight to a motel room in some unknown Italian city. When he finished, the vampire on the other end demanded to know if they'd contacted the _Gilda_ yet.

"I thought you would," he replied. Wasn't that what the office was for?

Sadihra's voice cut in. "Would what?"

Cyprus looked up to see her standing in the bathroom doorway, her hair in a towel. A long nightgown draped her curvy frame, shoulders damp and sticking to her skin. He'd seen that nightgown before, knew her feelings on pajamas, on not being able to sleep in pants, but to see her in it now...

Her voice broke the spell, "Who are you talking to?"

"The Sodalitas. I thought I'd call so you didn't have to."

She nodded her thanks and moved to take the phone. "Go shower. I'll handle it from here."

Despite her strong words, the shattered agony in her eyes made him hesitate. Still, he couldn't refuse without hurting her further, without insinuating that she couldn't handle it.

The bathroom mirror was still steamy when he shut the door and peeled off his dirty clothes. The hot water felt good as it washed away the gore and the grime, the evidence of what had happened in those subterranean tunnels. He checked his wounds to find them neatly sealed, as if they were a week old. More blood, and they'd have disappeared completely.

But I had to share, and Sadihra didn't want the complication of killing her.

Though Cyprus was tempted to stay in the numbing safety of the shower, he thought of Sadihra, probably still stuck on the phone, forced to detail her sister's death again and again. Damn. Jilsenna. Turned at the same time, the sisters had been immortal together for more than two hundred years. To lose someone you'd loved that long...

He shut off the shower in time to hear Sadihra shout a string a curse words, followed by the bang of something thrown. He tugged on a pair of pants, barely drying off, and exited to find her huddled on the floor, back against the bed, knees up, face buried.

"What's wrong?" He knelt next to her, eyes drawn away by the beeping dial tone. The phone laid across the room, separate from its cradle, the cord stretched like a snake across the carpet.

Sadihra looked up, cheeks stained with tears. "He's not there. Never there! Never anywhere when I need him! Always duty, work, orders! Always the Kugsankal, or der Höhere Rat! What they want is more important – always more important!"

Cyprus laid a hand on her shoulder. He sought comforting words, but found only soft murmurs of affirmation. He should ask if she'd called the _la Société_ , that was where Wolfe would be, but he bit the thought off before it could find his lips. Even if she did get ahold of him, what good would he be? A voice at the other end of a line, without arms to hold her, or hands to soothe her. If he loved her so much, he should have refused to go to France, should have let Hethin take his place. Instead, he'd worried more about their "delicate matter", worried more about offending them than he did about upsetting his so-called beloved.

"It will be all right," he finally managed to say.

"All right?" she exploded, turning incredulous eyes on him. "She is dead! Jilsenna is dead! My baby sister! It was my job to protect her, to make sure nothing happened to her, and what did I do? I asked her to come with me. Do you understand? I asked her to come here – to come here and die!"

She broke into heavy sobs. Cyprus shifted to slide an arm around her, pulling her against his naked chest. She didn't resist, but didn't relax either, her body tense with grief. "You couldn't have known."

"But you would have! I could have asked you, could have had you check, but I didn't. I was too busy trying to avoid you, trying not to irritate Wolfe, and where is he now? For all my effort he's not here, and I'm alone!"

Cyprus released the breath he'd been holding since the words, "you would have". He'd looked to the future so many times, and he'd never seen Jilsenna's death, never seen an ambush, never seen the chaos and blood, only Sadihra's naked skin kissed by shadows. Had he known...

He shook it away and cleared his throat, slowly absorbing the rest of her words. His voice was soft when he murmured, "You're not alone, Sadihra. I'm here. I'm always here."

She lifted her face, her cheek close to his, her breath on his chin. "I know."

His body tightened as he gazed down into her broken blue eyes. Tears sparkled in her long eyelashes, like delicate crystals, and dripped down her face. Gently, he wiped them away with his free hand, letting his fingertips linger against her damp cheek. He felt the catch of her breath, saw the way her pupils expanded, the way she caught her delicate bottom lip between her teeth.

His voice was barely a whisper, "I'll always be here."

The moment stretched into a million moments, all of them made of glass and heavy with the expectation of what would come; the imagined taste of those lips, the feather kiss of her breath, the gentle sweep of her tongue.

Cyprus moved in a dream, disconnected from his body as it leaned forward just a little, just enough to brush her mouth with his. He felt her soft gasp, and knew what came next; the shove, the anger, the denial.

He closed his eyes against the coming reprimand, but instead of harsh words, she returned the kiss, shy at first, then stronger, deeper. Her mouth opened and her body shifted to slide her tongue into his, teasing, tasting, tangling.

Cyprus swallowed his surprise and wrapped his arms around her, crushing her against him. One hand slid up to tangle in her damp hair, the other on her hip. He lost himself in the soft fold of her lips, the realization of years of wanting, of dreaming.

She shifted in his arms and he held her tighter, as if he could stop her from pulling away. It was inevitable, but if he could only make the moment last a little longer...

Instead of pulling away, she tightened her arms around him, clinging to him like driftwood in an endless ocean, the only thing that could stop her from drowning in her grief. She pressed against him, pushed him off balance, and they fell to the floor in a tangle.

She rolled on her side, pulling him to her, legs wrapping into his, mouth working desperately against his. He found the hem of her nightgown, pulled up around her hip. Seeking fingers slid beneath it, caressing naked skin he'd only dreamed of. Her back arched and he moved his hand up, running the length of her spine, to her shoulders, and back again, touching the waistband of her panties.

She returned the favor, soft hand grazing his bare back, his side, his shoulders, leaving a fiery trail on his skin and an ache for more.

He ground against her, hand moving on its own up to her shoulder, down again, around the curve of her hip, over her hip, the curve of her backside, back up again, all while his mouth worked furiously against hers, teeth clashing, tongues meshing, lips pressing. He needed to bite her, needed to taste her blood, but he wanted so much more than just that. He wanted all of her, wanted to feel her skin against his, her arms pulling him to her, hear her whisper his name.

"Sadihra," he panted between kisses, hoping to pack all of that need into the one word; hoping she understood.

Her mouth left his, moved to his face. She teased his neck, his throat, then wriggled free to move lower. She scattered kisses over his chest like butterflies; a thousand whispery wings sweeping his desire to a fever pitch.

He moved. The rough carpet felt harsh after her soft touches. _We're on the floor._ No, not the floor. She didn't deserve that; like some quick fuck that didn't matter.

She matters more than anything.

He caught her face, pressed fingers to her lips. He wanted to say something meaningful, something romantic, something to show her how he felt, how much he'd wanted this, how much he wanted her now. His tongue could only croak out the word, "Bed."

She nodded, then swept to her feet. The long white nightgown found the floor, and she climbed on the bed wearing only her pink panties. Cyprus peeled away his pants with trembling hands before he joined her.

He sunk into the soft mattress as he took her in his arms again. Her naked breasts pressed against his chest; skin to skin. So soft. So smooth. Like his every fantasy, only better. There was no surrender, as he had always imagined there would be. Rather she met him equally, touch for touch, kiss for kiss, need for need. He lost himself to her kisses, to her caresses, to the soft sound of her breath, the low purr of her moans.

"Cyprus," she murmured, mouth leaving his to taste his neck. He had a momentary view of her naked body wrapped in shadows, skin glowing in the low light of the single motel room lamp, but he didn't need to see it to know what it looked like. He'd seen that moment a thousand times before.

She pressed him to his back and moved on top, taking his hard length in her soft heat. It took all of his willpower not to bite her arm, her wrist, not to tackle her to the bed and swallow mouthfuls of her blood. He closed his eyes, trying to remember a time when this had been enough, when this connection was all there was, the ultimate, the-

She shifted, bending down, lips grazing his shoulder, teeth nipping. He caught the quick flash of lust in her eyes, then she bit. The pain lasted a moment before the pleasure came, washing away everything else except the screaming need to taste her blood.

He tugged her arm up, bit into the tender flesh. She didn't react, too lost in her own ecstasy to notice. As her blood filled his mouth, the connection was consummated, the circle complete, leaving only her and him, a throbbing union in the scarlet darkness.

The moments flew past, painted gold and red. He saw flashes of Sadihra's life; she and her sister, Wolfe, himself, assignments, sadness, joy. It was the happiness he clung to. Her happiness. Her joy. He wanted to feel it forever, to revel in it, and he wanted to be the reason for it.

The ecstasy ended in an explosion of crimson that left them wrapped around one another, panting. He looked down where her head lay on his chest. Gently, he brushed back the spill of her golden hair. "I love you, Sadihra. I've always loved you."

She didn't answer, only pressed her eyes closed and buried her face against him. But she was there, in his arms, where she belonged. And that was enough.

Cyprus woke the next evening. Last night was still warm in his mind; the memory of her and him, of everything he had ever wanted.

Finally. Finally, she'd acknowledged what hung between them, the attraction, the feelings, all of it. And now...now what? Wolfe would be angry, of course. He'd see to it that they were both expelled from the Sodalitas, but so what? Cyprus had longed to be a guard so others would fear him, to make up for the years he'd tolerated so much from his master...but that was long ago. He didn't need that affirmation to prove his worth anymore. Now he had her. Just looking into her eyes every day would be enough.

He smiled and rolled over, but she wasn't next to him. He shrugged it off and rose, but she wasn't in the bathroom, either. Had she gone outside?

As he dressed, uncertainty crept into his happy thoughts. Had last night really happened? He was a vampire – all evidence of her bite had healed. If it had ever been there. Maybe he'd dreamed it all. Maybe...

_No._ No, he knew it was real. Just as the nightmare that had come before was real, just as Jilsenna's death was real.

He gathered up his luggage and dropped it next to hers. He'd just pulled on his boots and stood, when the door opened. Sadihra looked surprised to see him; surprise that quickly melted to something else as her eyes dropped away. Shyness? No. Not shyness but...

Shame.

His heart froze. No. No. No. This was wrong. She was supposed to smile coyly at him, cheeks flushed pink, eyes cast down, nervous, maybe afraid that he'd changed his mind, afraid that after all the wanting he'd been left disappointed. He was supposed to smile back, tease her, reassure her, melt against her in a deep kiss that left them both aching.

That was what was supposed to happen, what happened whenever he imagined it. Not this. The furtive glances, quick, sharp movements as she moved to the luggage. Not the uncomfortable, tight tone as she said, "The _Gilda_ sent reinforcements last night, with the tools, but we were gone when they arrived. We must have done better than we thought. They managed to clean out the remaining nest in the catacomb and recovered...the bodies were dealt with. A car will be here shortly for us, to take us to the _Gilda_. After we report, we're to go back to Munich."

She reached for her bag and he caught her arm. Her flinch was like a slap that left him backtracking. She rubbed her arm absently, as if his touch had left a mark, then quickly scooped up her luggage. "We're to meet them in the parking lot."

"Sadihra." Her name was a whispered prayer, pleading for her to stop, to look at him, to explain.

She swallowed hard. Eyes met his, then darted away again. "I'm sorry. Last night...It was a mistake."

He couldn't move, couldn't think. That single word reverberated through him, cutting, until he thought he'd bleed to death – wished he'd bleed to death right there on the hotel carpet.

"It's my fault," she added quickly. "I don't blame you. I wanted...comfort, and you were here. I'm sorry."

Sorry.

She was sorry.

"Sadihra?"

"We need to be ready." She hurried out the door, leaving those words in the air behind her. We need to be ready. I'm sorry.

Mistake.

As if he was nothing. As if he didn't matter. As if his life didn't begin and end in her smile.

_Maybe she doesn't know._ Maybe she didn't realize the depth of his feelings for her, or maybe she imagined they'd died last night with his conquest and she was trying to protect herself. Maybe...

He knew better, knew she had to know, but still he hurried after her. Still he caught her shoulder, spun her towards him. Still he poured it out to her, his love, his need. She was his everything, his reason to breathe, his reason to be. He would love her forever.

As his words fell around her like rain, it wasn't relief that dawned on her face, but discomfort. Regret.

A mistake.

He let go of her and fell back a step. His chest constricted until he could barely find the air to form words. Finally he stuttered out, "You know. You know and you don't care. You...You...But I saw it! Last night. I felt it. In your touch, in your kiss. Goddammit, Sadihra, I know you have feelings for me! I know you-"

A van pulled in, identical to the one from the night before. It stopped near them, and a guard hopped out. Sadihra rushed to climb inside, taking the passenger seat, leaving Cyprus and the other _Gilda_ guard to take the back.

The vampires gave them bagged blood to drink. Though it sated Cyprus' thirst, it did nothing to quench his desire for answers. _A mistake_. She couldn't have meant that. Not really. It had to be something else talking. Fear? Of what?

But he knew the answer: Wolfe.

The ride to the airstrip was tense and uncomfortable. There, they boarded a small plane that would take them to the _Gilda_. Cyprus tried to sit next to Sadihra, tried to catch her eyes, but she rebuffed him, motioning to the _Gilda_ guards. Cyprus wanted to shout, wanted to know why it mattered if they heard, if they knew/. Then he understood. Sadihra had no intention of anyone knowing. Not now. Not ever.

He sagged with the weight of the knowledge. The remaining threads of his candy dreams broke away, leaving only bitter reality. He would never have her now, never win her over, never convince her to give them a try. He'd be lucky if she even talked to him again.

Just like Jilsenna said.

The flight was short, and he was grateful when they touched down. They exited on the tarmac, then followed the guards to another vehicle. On a different day he'd have watched Rome slip by through the window, but not today. Today he closed his eyes, as if he could hide from the city, the world, the truth.

Once at the _Gilda,_ they were ushered inside. Sadihra was taken one direction, to join the _Boia_ , and he another. Long hallways echoed with the sound of their boots, while marble eyes watched their every step. The antiquity of the place hung heavy, like the presence of the Kugsankal in Munich.

The guards left him to wait in a room off of their office. The wooden chairs were varnished with years that did nothing for their comfort. He shifted, crossed his legs, uncrossed them, all the while trying not to think of her, of what had happened. Trying to resist the temptation.

Finally, it became too much. He leaned back, feet flat on the floor, and closed his eyes. He let his mind seek the future, the what-was-yet-to-come, concentrating on himself, on Sadihra. Moments flashed past, some watery and thin, others bright, but too fast. Suddenly he saw her standing in a meeting room in Munich, blue eyes burning.

"I love Wolfe."

He jolted back to the present. Was that her reason, or the reason she was going to give him?

He didn't have time to contemplate it before a _Gilda_ guard walked in. He gave a sharp salute, then handed Cyprus a stack of papers and a pen.

"What's this?"

"If you could write a report, sir? Your version."

Version? Version of what? What had Sadihra said? Was that why they'd been separated immediately? Was that why she was avoiding him? Was she claiming...?

"Of the ambush," the guard added.

The ambush. Right. The assignment. The catacombs. Of course.

The guard left, and Cyprus took his seat again. He filled in the top of the paper, then stopped. The blank space beneath mocked him, asking if he even knew what happened. He wasn't sure how to answer.

Slowly, the pieces came back to him; hauling away the rubble, shuffling their way into the narrow tunnel, creeping through the dark toward the scent of five vampires. He hesitated on how to write it. Did he say it was Sadihra's idea to go in alone, to clear the rubble by hand, even after they sent away their comrades, or did he blame Jilsenna? She was dead, she couldn't be reprimanded, but Sadihra...

Why should I try to save her?

Though he wanted to blame her – it had been her idea, really – he couldn't do it. He wrote the paper, giving all her lines to Jilsenna. She was the one who was over eager, who didn't want to wait, who thought they could handle it.

He finished his write up and looked to the clock. How long did they plan to leave him there?

As if someone read his mind, the guard returned to collect his papers, and told him to "wait for the Scharfrichterin."

_As if I haven't spent the last twenty years waiting for her_.

When Sadihra arrived, she didn't look at him. "It's time to go back to Munich."

He wanted to push her, to demand to know where they stood, what she was going to do. Then he saw the guard behind her. For a wild moment he thought "what the hell," but relented. He didn't want the foreign vampire to know how pathetic he was.

They were escorted to a vehicle, and back to the airfield. It was a repeat of the trip there: no privacy. And maybe that was for the best. Deep down he knew her answer – had already seen her answer. Moments alone would just be moments of heartbreak.

Familiar guards waited for them at the German airstrip. Cyprus climbed into the back of the waiting vehicle and leaned his forehead against the cold glass. The landscape moved past like an old friend, though he didn't really see it. Instead he saw a meshed together medley of Sadihra; her blue eyes bright with desire, then cold with indifference in so short a span.

At the stronghold he tried again to catch Sadihra's attention, but she addressed only the guards who'd driven them before she half ran for the door. Cyprus hung back and watched her go as he had a thousand times, but this time it was different. This time she wasn't carrying his dreams with her.

With no other choice, he headed after her, though when he passed through the door she was long gone. He looked for her, then surrendered and headed for his room. If they wanted him to report, they could come find him.

In his sanctuary, he threw his luggage on the floor and dropped on the bed, head in his hands. Then the knock came. Harder and harder, it refused to be ignored. Finally, the door jerked open and a head thrust its way inside.

Cyprus didn't even look up. "What do you want Lance?"

"To make sure you're okay! Jesus, we got word last night that everyone was found dead! I thought you were dead!"

"I just wish I was."

Lance caught a sharp breath. "Oh, God. Not Sadihra? I heard today that one of the Scharfrichterin survived and just assumed it was her...I'm sorry, Cyprus. I know you loved-"

Cyprus' head snapped up. "She's alive!" He dropped his chin again. "Jilsenna...She was killed."

"So it's all right then. Not that Scharfrichterin Jilsenna's loss isn't...isn't a loss. Of course it is, but..." Lance trailed off to study Cyprus. "It's still hard to deal with, I know. Almost being killed. Looking death in the face, realizing we're immortal but not really _immortal_. It's a blow that leaves you shivering and-"

"It's not that." Cyprus squeezed his eyes shut. "Last night, afterwards..." _Sadihra and I made love._ But he couldn't say it, as if uttering the words sullied the memory of the act. "Never mind."

Lance patted his shoulder consolingly. "She finally told you to stop, didn't she?"

Except, she hadn't. She'd said it was a mistake, but she'd never said she hadn't liked it. She'd never denied having feelings for him. Never said she didn't want to make the same "mistake" again.

"No," he said slowly. "She didn't."

Lance frowned. "If nothing's changed, then what's wrong?"

_Nothing's changed_. It wasn't just the question, but also the answer. He'd expected things to change; expected it would be like a romance movie. They'd make love, she'd fall into his arms, forsake Wolfe, and they'd walk into a happily-ever-after. But, real life didn't work that way. It was messy, complicated. She couldn't just swoop back to the stronghold and announce that they were a couple. She'd have to handle Wolfe; Wolfe who was the head of the Scharfrichter, who could take away her position, exile them both...

_Let him. We don't need him, or this place._ They'd both lived out in the world before coming there, they could do so again. He just needed to talk to her, away from the pressures of eavesdropping guards.

He jumped to his feet. "You're right. And I have things I need to do. You can show yourself out."

He didn't wait for Lance's startled reply.

Cyprus found Sadihra coming out of the Scharfrichter office, face weary and shoulders slumped. She met his eyes, but instead of shying away, he saw a spark of gratefulness.

"I've finished filing the reports."

Though she didn't say it, he knew what she meant: she'd finished detailing her sister's death for the hundredth time.

"They're sending her things – her bag from the van and her...her emblem." She closed her eyes and touched the medallion that hung around her neck. "We should have gotten it while we were there but everything was so rushed and..."

He caught her free hand and squeezed it. "I know."

She cleared her throat and straightened a little. "I know you do." She returned the squeeze, then let go. "Are you hungry? They gave us blood earlier, but..."

"But it wasn't much," he finished. "The Cafe?"

She nodded wearily, and they headed for the nearest elevator. Cyprus watched her from the corner of his eye. He wanted – needed – to know the truth, how she felt, what she wanted, but now...Now wasn't the time to press it. Hell, that morning hadn't been the time, either, had it? She'd come into the room, told him that her sister's body had been burned, and all he was worried about was whether she was going to dump her boyfriend for him.

God, I'm a jackass.

He waited until they were seated in the café, their orders made, to reach across the table and take her hand again. "I was being a selfish ass, and I'm sorry. You're grieving. This isn't the time to worry about..."

Though he left it hanging, he could see that she understood. "I'm sorry, too," she said softly. "To be honest, I've been afraid all day that you'd hate me now." She swallowed hard and lifted her chin a notch, her voice braver. "I wouldn't blame you if you did."

He smiled. "You should know I could never hate you. I love you, Sadihra, and I'm willing to wait-"

Her expression froze. "Cyprus..."

The world stopped and he swallowed down a moment of terror. Here it was. The moment Lance said would come. The moment when she told him to stop.

Instead, she gave a heavy sigh. "I don't want to lose you."

"Then don't."

Her small smile was more sad than cheerful. "You make it sound so easy." She glanced up and her face paled. She pulled her hand away and stood quickly. Cyprus snapped around in his seat, even though he knew what it was – who it was.

Wolfe.

"Sadihra!" The vampire had her in his arms before she could reply. "Last night they...The message said all were lost. I..." His voice cracked, then his attention slid to Cyprus. "Of course you're the guard who survived."

Cyprus bit back his reply as Sadihra pulled loose. She blinked away tears to give Cyprus a watery smile. "I'm sorry. We'll have to have dinner another time. I'll...I'll see you later."

She let Wolfe take her hand and lead her towards the door. As they went, the Scharfrichter shot back a hard look, one that said he was going to make sure Sadihra didn't keep that dinner date.

As if he can.

Cyprus changed into his pajamas, his thoughts full of cheerful expectations. Per policy, he and Sadihra would be given a few days off to recuperate. It seemed only logical that they'd spend that time together and, after she'd had time to come to terms with everything, to heal, then he could broach the subject of _them_ again.

He flipped his bed clothes back, reached for the lamp, when the pounding came at the door.

Goddammit, Lance-

The voice that roared wasn't Lance's, but Wolfe's, "Open this door, you son of a bitch, or I'll tear it to pieces!"

Cyprus froze. Wolfe slammed the door with his fists, shouting a string of threats – threats that could mean only one thing.

_Sadihra told him about us._ And if she told him then it meant-

It means she's made her choice, and it isn't him.

He fought giddiness as he grabbed his guard-issued daggers and unbolted the door. The latch had barely fallen away when Wolfe charged inside. Cyprus hopped back in time to dodge the Scharfrichter's grabbing hand.

"Can I help-"

"You'll die for that!" Wolfe shouted, pouncing again. Cyprus leapt to the side, knocking into the desk chair. As Wolfe came yet again, Cyprus pulled the dagger from the scabbard. This was it – his chance to take the bastard out. Wolfe had attacked him, threatened to kill him. If he jammed that blade between his ribs now, it would be self-defense. It would be-

Sadihra's shriek came over the sound of Wolfe's fury. "Stop! Wolfe!"

She grabbed his arm and pulled him back, but he shook her off. He spun on her, "You'd defend him? After what he did to you?"

What he did to... _what?_

"It wasn't like that!" Sadihra shouted back. "I told you, it was me."

"Like hell! I've seen the way he looks at you! Everyone's seen it, knows it. He's been waiting for a moment like this." Wolfe jerked back around to Cyprus and advanced. "I hope it was worth his life!"

"Wolfe!"

Sadihra's scream was followed by the lamp lifting from the nightstand, seemingly on its own, and crashing into the back of Wolfe's skull. He stumbled under it, then roared, spinning back towards her. Cyprus took the opportunity to pounce. Thinner and lighter, he landed on Wolfe's back, wrapping his legs around the Scharfrichter, arms around his neck, the dagger pressed to his throat.

_No, jackass,_ this _is the moment I've been waiting for._

"Stop!"

The order came from the doorway. Hethin stood in a pair of pajamas, his long white hair settling around him like a fluttering cape. "What is this madness?"

"He raped Sadihra!"

Hethin stiffened, mouth open, and Cyprus froze. What in the hell?

Wolfe used the moment to shake him free. Cyprus landed on the floor, shocked eyes staring as Wolfe wound up to deliver a blow. Somewhere in the background he heard Sadihra shout, "No, he didn't! Dammit, Wolfe, I told you he didn't!"

Hethin shoved into the room. He grabbed Wolfe's swinging arm, stopping the blow before it could fall. "Wolfe! Get ahold of yourself. What's going on?"

"He won't listen to me!" Sadihra cried.

"I've listened! And now I'm going to do what should have been done in Italy!"

"Guards!" Hethin shouted, struggling to reign Wolfe in. "Guards!"

Doors opened. Off-duty guards filled the corridor, then the room. Under Hethin's orders they dragged Wolfe out. Hethin helped Cyprus to his feet, critical gaze sweeping over him. "If what he says is true..."

"It isn't!" Sadihra shouted. "I told him it isn't, but he won't listen!"

Hethin nodded, though didn't look convinced. "I'll take him upstairs and try to find out why he thinks that."

"I know why he thinks that, but he took it wrong. It was my fault – my choice."

Hethin paused at the doorway, looking from one to the other of them. "I'll talk to Wolfe."

Sadihra made to follow, but Cyprus caught her elbow. "What happened? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." She brushed his hand away, then relented. "I told him, Cyprus. About...what...happened."

And?

She took his silence for accusation. "I had to tell him. You can't...There can't be secrets. It would come out later, something would slip. He'd figure it out and then..."

Later. Can't have secrets.

The words popped out before he could stop them, "You're not going to leave him, are you?"

Her surprise was like a dagger to his chest. "Of course not. Why would you...?"

When someone cleared their throat loudly, Cyprus spun to see Lance near the bed. Sadihra took the interruption as intervention. "I'm sorry, Cyprus. I never told him that you pushed yourself on me. He assumed it, even when I told him it wasn't true. I never imagined he'd blame you this way. I'll talk to him."

Then she was out the door and down the hall, hurrying after Hethin and her boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

Lance stepped next to Cyprus and closed the door. Silence stretched, then he said, "So you and Sadihra...?"

Cyprus nodded, too tired to discuss it. Not just physically tired, but spiritually tired. How stupid could he have been to think that she would ever choose him over Wolfe? Wolfe who was the head of the Scharfrichter, who was older, stronger.

Manlier.

Lance gave a low whistle. "Dammit, Cyprus. You're in trouble now. Wolfe's tolerated your silly crush, but fucking his girlfriend-"

The word was wrong – fucking – she wasn't a fuck, wasn't a meaningless moment of lust, but he didn't care enough to correct Lance, or to listen to the rest of the lecture. "Yeah, yeah. I know."

"Do you? Because I don't think you understand what's coming. He'll ruin you, Cyprus. Do you understand? If he doesn't outright kill you. Was it really worth it?"

It was a question Cyprus didn't have an answer for.

The next evening Cyprus was called to the office and relieved of duty. It wasn't temporary leave, but permanent. Wolfe had petitioned der Höhere Rat. Though there was no trial, they'd agreed unanimously to dismiss him. "To avoid trouble," his superior explained as he handed Cyprus his final papers. "Even if you're innocent, Wolfe's story has made you enemies. You can't rely on the Scharfrichter, or the other guards, to have your back, and in the filed that's essential. You could demand a trial, of course, but everyone's already made up their minds one way or the other."

Just like you have.

Cyprus thought about demanding that trial – he'd done nothing wrong – but he didn't care enough to push it. He didn't need to be a guard at the stronghold. Here, loyalty was only rewarded with death, like those who'd died in the catacombs. It was better he got out now, while he was still alive.

He met Hethin in the corridor outside the office. The Scharfrichter stopped in front of him, cleared his throat. Finally, he said, "I've spoken to Sadihra and she assured me that...But the rumor is there. Even those who know you may still doubt you. When the truth is the least interesting story, people rarely believe it."

Cyprus nodded, his jaw tight.

"This will die down, when something of more interest comes along. Until then, the best thing you can do is leave the stronghold."

"I'm planning on it."

Hethin nodded with relief. "You could transfer to another stronghold. The United States', for instance." His eyes held genuine regret. "I'm sorry this happened. You had an excellent record. Until this."

Because of course Wolfe's accusation would go in his file. A black spot borne of jealousy.

If only I could cut his heart out before I leave.

Milkavich half-heartedly tried to talk Cyprus into staying. Lance didn't bother. "You'll come back to visit," he said with false brightness, though they all knew he wouldn't.

"Where are you going to go?" Milkavich helped him close his new suitcase.

"I don't know yet. Maybe to Finland, or the United States. Somewhere far away from here."

"Maybe Japan?" Lance suggested. "Though they have pretty strict immigration rules, even for our kind."

"They're an island," Milkavich pointed out. "They have limited resources. They have to control the population."

Cyprus didn't care what the Japanese did or didn't do. He let his friends prattle on while he finished packing. They offered to see him to the waiting taxi, but he declined. He had someone else he needed to see first.

Just once more.

He'd left a note for her with a time and the location of an upper-floor meeting room. He wasn't sure she'd be there, but he hoped so. Wolfe would probably try to stop her – hell, he'd probably threaten her if he knew. And if Cyprus had learned anything, it was that Wolfe's threats carried weight. Look what he'd done to him with just a few angry words, a single false accusation. As the guard had said, everyone had already made up their minds. Wolfe could do the same to her.

Still, stupidly, Cyprus hoped that she'd show up, that she'd try to stop him or, even better, offer to go with him, that the realization she was going to lose him – really lose him – would be enough to overcome her fear of Wolfe.

He reached the doorway to the meeting room and hesitated. If she wasn't inside...He inhaled, and relaxed when he found her scent. She was there.

Leaving his luggage in the hall, he headed inside to see her waiting on a plush couch. She stood quickly, crossed to him. "Is it true? You're leaving?"

He nodded and she shook her head, rejecting the idea. "It's over those rumors – those stupid, ugly lies, isn't it?"

"Of course. When I walk down the hallway they don't see a guard anymore but a monster that they think-"

She cut him off. "Wouldn't it be better to stay? To prove them wrong? You could demand a trial. They'd read your mind, find you innocent. They'd have to reinstate you."

"No, they wouldn't. And even if they did, who cares? There's a whole world out there, Sadihra. A wide, wide world, where their opinions don't mean anything."

"But you've worked so hard, Cyprus! You've fought for respect. How many tries did it take you to become a guard? And now look. Your record is exemplary. You were up for a promotion, before this. You can't just walk away from everything you've earned!"

"Yes I can, because it's meaningless. Who cares if they respect me or not? If they think I'm strong or not? I used to think it mattered, that I needed others to look at me in awe, but I don't. Their opinions don't change who I am, or who you are. You don't need to keep proving yourself to them, either. Their opinion of you doesn't matter."

She bit her lip. "But it does, Cyprus. I'm not as strong as you. I...I've worked hard for respect. I'm still working hard for it, to prove I'm just as good as any man."

Cyprus caught her hands, noted the way her cheeks flushed at his touch. "I know you have, and you've earned twice the respect they show you. But we both know you're as good as any man, probably two times better. Forget them. Forget all of it. Come with me."

She tugged free of him, eyes on the floor. "Cyprus, we've talked about this."

"No, actually, we haven't. I've tried, and you've run away. But this is it. It's now or never. I love you, Sadihra. Do you love me?"

She didn't answer, didn't look at him.

He stepped closer, his voice rising. "Do you love me?"

When she looked up, he saw the answer on her face, just as he had that night in the motel, as he had a hundred other times before she clamped her emotions down and hid them under fake indifference.

"Cyprus..."

Though he'd seen it, he needed to hear it. Just once. "Do you love me?"

She looked away. "I love Wolfe."

It was the answer he'd seen in his vision, the answer she'd given over and over, but it wasn't enough. Not this time. "That may be, but you love me, too. Admit it. For one goddamn minute, be honest, Sadihra!"

She threw her hands up in a gesture of frustration. "There's no future for us, Cyprus. I've told you before. I-"

"No. You've given excuses, but you've never rejected me. You've never told me to stop."

She took a deep breath that ended in a shudder. "Then I'm telling you now. Stop."

Time froze. The world stuttered to a standstill. There was only her and that one word, the word he swore he'd obey. "You don't mean that. It's Wolfe, isn't it? He threatened-"

Her eyes snapped fire. "It has nothing to do with Wolfe! I've made my choice, and I'm telling you to stop!"

Cyprus backed away, his face hardening with each pounding heartbeat. He'd put himself out there enough, let her stab him again and again while she yo-yoed between wanting him and not wanting him, while she played with her pretty love triangle. "Fine. If that's what you want."

Her expression was stone. "It is."

He held her gaze for a second longer, waiting for her to crack, to admit the truth, but she was too strong for that. Too strong, or too afraid of Wolfe's wrath, of losing everything she'd worked for; her position, the respect that came with it. And to keep that, she was willing to sacrifice him. After everything they'd been through, everything he'd put up with, still proving herself meant more to her than he did.

Screw this.

He didn't speak as he turned on his heel and strode away, leaving her in the meeting room alone. He was done with the stronghold, done with the petty vampires who haunted its halls, who believed every evil thing they heard. Let them talk. Let them look down on him. Let them think he was a cold hearted bastard. Let them think he'd used her, because anything was better than the truth, better than them knowing how pathetic he was.

Knowing that she's the one who used me.

You can find Cyprus in _Heart of the Raven_ and _Children of Shadows_.

Join the Amaranthine mailing list for new book alerts in your inbox:

http://joleenenaylor.com/fbn/newsletter.php

Found a typo? Join  The Great Amaranthine Typo Hunt to receive an exclusive free short story!

 https://joleenenaylor.wordpress.com/2017/06/16/the-great-amaranthine-typo-hunt/

# About the author:

Joleene Naylor is the author of the glitter-less Amaranthine vampire universe, a world where vampires aren't for children. Comprised of a main series, a standalone prequel, a novella, and several short story collections, she has plans to continue expanding with a trilogy and more standalone novels.

In her spare time, Joleene is a freelance book cover designer and for-fun photographer. She maintains several blogs, full of odd ramblings, and occasionally updates her website at JoleeneNaylor.com. In what little time is left, she watches anime, plays PokemonGo, and works on her crooked Victorian house in Villisca, Iowa. Between her husband, family, and pets, she is never lonely, in fact, quite the opposite. Should she disappear, one might look for her on a beach in Tahiti, sipping a tropical drink and wearing a disguise.

Ramblings from the Darkness at http://www.joleenenaylor.com

You never know what you'll find in the shadows.....

# Connect with the Author:

Find Joleene Naylor at:

**Amaranthine Night, author blog** : <http://joleenenaylor.wordpress.com/>

**Facebook fan page** : <https://www.facebook.com/joleenenaylorbooks>

**Twitter:** <http://twitter.com/joleene_naylor>

**Official website:** http://JoleeneNaylor.com

**Good reads** : <http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3165393.Joleene_Naylor>

**Pinterest** : <http://www.pinterest.com/joleenenaylor/boards/>

**Personal Facebook profile** : <http://facebook.com/joleene.naylor>

**Google +** : <https://plus.google.com/102925915756209535618/posts>

