"You should know." Tanis gave her a cryptic smile, as though he was enjoying a private joke at her expense. "It's the door to William's prison. The prison your father was commissioned to build."

My father? Unbidden, the buried memories came rus.h.i.+ng through her brain: ...the dungeon was damp and cold. Along with her sister, little Selene perched atop a stack of wooden crates as she playfully painted a s.h.i.+ning sun on the wall of a stone pa.s.sageway. A seash.e.l.l held their bright yellow paint, which was a mixture of tree sap and ground-up dandelions. Selene used a hog's-hair brush to add the sun's bright rays. Less than a foot away, Cecilia used the red paint, made from powdered madder roots, to add some cheerful flowers to the blank stone wall.

The pa.s.sage echoed with the sound of picks and hammers pounding away at solid rock. Sweating laborers hauled carts of debris up to the surface. It looked like hard work to Selene, who was glad she didn't have to do it.

Her father strolled by, calling out instructions to the work crew. He paused to smile at the two girls. Twinkling brown eyes inspected their handiwork. "What beautiful paintings," he said warmly. He grinned at them through his bushy brown beard. "How lucky I am to have such talented artists as daughters."

Selene beamed back at her father. She was proud of him. A master mason and smith, he was in charge of constructing these new dungeons beneath the mighty fortress above. He clutched a roll of parchments in one hand. A mason's compa.s.s was tucked into his belt. Selene knew that his was an important and demanding job. Not every man would be up to such a task.

Lord Viktor must think very highly of my father, she thought.

...many days later, she watched intently as her father inserted the open pendant into a decorative impression on the wall. Stone ground against stone as hidden machinery came to life. Invisible gears engaged behind the wall, and a section of seemingly solid stone split apart, revealing a shadowy alcove leading to a staircase whose upper steps were shrouded in darkness.

Selene shuddered at the thought of where that staircase might lead. Even as a child she knew what a dungeon was, and a hidden dungeon struck her as many times worse. She couldn't imagine who could possibly be so bad as to deserve being locked away and forgotten forever.

...the pendant rested in the little girl's hands. The s.h.i.+ny metal blades projecting from the device reflected the flickering candlelight. Selene thought she had never seen anything quite so beautiful.

A heavy thud caught Selene by surprise. She spun around, terrified, only to find her father gazing down at her with an amused smile. She let out a sigh of relief. For a moment, she had been afraid that an ogre or brigand had found her.

Her father bent down so that he could look her in the eye. "Oh, so you've been the one keeping a watch over this for me, have you?" His affectionate chuckle a.s.sured her that she was not in trouble for borrowing the pendant. "Much obliged, darling. I've been searching everywhere for this."

He kissed her forehead, then gently took the pendant from her hand....

The memories. .h.i.t Selene like a wooden stake through her heart. She turned to Michael for comfort, shock and distress written all over her face. The icy mask she had maintained throughout her interrogation of Tanis was melted away by the volatile emotions bubbling up inside her. At the moment, exposing her vulnerability to their prisoner was the least of her concerns.

"What is it?" Michael asked anxiously. He gently took hold of her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

Tanis knew, even if Michael hadn't figured it out yet. "She now understands why her family was killed."

Selene didn't want to believe it. She had thought Viktor had attacked their home at random, merely to indulge an illicit craving for human blood. She had never connected the slaughter with the pretty pendant she had once played with as a child.

"That was many years later," she protested. "I was nearly twenty."

The historian remembered it well. "The winter of Lucian's escape," he observed. "Your father knew too much. Too much for Viktor to risk, especially when Lucian had this." He held up the pendant. "The key to William's cell."

The pieces started to fall into place, creating a hideous picture in Selene's mind. A chill ran down her spine as the full implications sank in.

"And I'm the map."

Tanis smirked, amused by Selene's growing horror. "Yes, the only one still living who has seen its location. Viktor counted on you being too young to remember the site explicitly. But Marcus knows that the memory-and therefore, the exact location-of his brother's prison is hidden away in your blood."

Michael was still a few steps behind. "Why is Marcus looking for him now, after all this time?"

"The great covens are led by those still loyal to Viktor," Tanis said with a touch of impatience, as though Michael should have been well aware of that. He seemed more interested in confronting Selene with the coven's dirty little secrets. "Marcus was never a true equal amongst the Elders. Viktor used his followers to undercut Marcus at every turn, ensuring his own primacy."

All of this came as news to Selene. Unlike Kraven, she had never had any interest in the coven's often byzantine politics. As long as there had been lycans to hunt, she had been content to let the Elders govern the coven, each in their own turn, according to the never-ending cycle of the Chain. That there might actually be serious dissension among the Elders themselves had never even occurred to her. That was what the Chain was for, after all. She wondered briefly what part Amelia had played in this centuries-long power struggle between Marcus and Viktor.

Perhaps I don't want to know.

In any event, Marcus was now the only Elder left. No wonder he felt free to go searching for William after all these centuries. All he needs is the pendant-and a taste of my blood.

"Now that Marcus is of...mixed nature," Tanis continued, Selene having previously informed him of the Elder's shocking transformation, "well, the coven will certainly never bow down to...an abomination." He spit out the last word with disgust, then realized his faux pas. "Present company excluded, of course."

Michael glared at Tanis, who offered a feeble smile in apology. Michael took back the pendant.

"That still doesn't explain why Marcus needs William," Selene pointed out.

Tanis shrugged and threw up his hands. "That I cannot say."

Wrong answer, Selene thought. She clicked off the safety on her new handgun and lifted the weapon into firing position.

Tanis got the message. "But I know who can stop him," he added hastily.

Selene lowered her weapon.

"Perhaps I can arrange a meeting," Tanis volunteered. "In exchange for your discretion."

She gave him a withering look. "Of course." What a double-dealing snake, she thought. He gives vampires a bad name.

Ten minutes later, they were on the road to Budapest in a new SUV provided by Tanis. Another of Lucian's gifts to the turncoat vampire, hidden away in a concealed garage beneath the old monastery. Selene a.s.sumed that Tanis considered the car a small price to pay in exchange for their leaving him alive.

I wonder which of us got the greater bargain?

Chapter Seventeen.

Tanis dropped Grushenka's lifeless body onto the heap of bones in the lycans' lair, where it joined Olga's corpse among the moldering ruins. Selene and that hybrid freak had finally departed, thank the Fates, leaving him to deal with the Death Dealer's unfortunate victims. He wished there was time to give his paramours a more dignified burial, but the monastery was clearly no longer a safe refuge for him. And with Viktor dead at last, he no longer needed to worry about incurring the Elder's wrath by leaving.

The sooner I'm out of here, the better, he resolved. He lingered in the squalid lair, thinking ahead to his departure. Choosing what to take and what to leave behind would be excruciating, especially where his library was concerned, but Tanis knew that he needed to travel light if he wanted to escape the b.l.o.o.d.y chaos that seemed to have broken out among his fellow immortals. He wondered where he could go to hide from the tumult. China maybe, or Australia? America was no good; Amelia's followers in the New World Coven would be looking for a scapegoat for her death. I'm not taking the fall for that one. That was Kraven's doing, not mine.

His mind raced, compiling a list of what to pack. He was going to need weapons, money, and a new ident.i.ty. Too bad Olga and Grushenka had not survived their encounter with Selene; he was going to miss their company and their bodies, not necessarily in that order. It was a b.l.o.o.d.y nuisance, too, that Selene had stolen his only vehicle, but if he could just make it over the hills to the nearest mortal town or hamlet, he should be able to buy or steal a new getaway car. Then it was simply a matter of reaching an airport or rail station.

Maps, he thought. I need maps. He made a mental note to extract an atlas from his library, even as he winced at the thought of all his precious volumes he would have to leave behind. Just as well, he a.s.sured himself. I've spent enough time reading these past centuries. It was time he rejoined the world.

If he could just get away fast enough.

Cras.h.!.+ The sound of heavy doors flying open echoed from above. Plus, was it just his imagination or did he hear an ominous flapping as well?

Fear seized the historian's heart. Leaving the bodies of his lovers behind, he ran frantically up the steps toward the moonlit corridors of the old monastery. Terror pursued him all the way back to the wine cellar, even as the fearsome flapping grew louder. Tanis knew only too well the source of that dreadful noise.

Marcus!

Tanis dashed across the cellar and slammed shut a pair of heavy oak doors. With no more caged werewolves to guard the monastery, the terrified historian was left to his own devices. He bolted the doors shut and backed away from them fearfully. Sweat dripped from his brow. His mouth went dry with fear. To think that less than an hour ago he had been lolling in bed with two beautiful, naked vampiresses...!

Something pounded on the other side of the door. Tanis nearly jumped out of his skin. He glanced at his weapons rack. Was there anything there powerful enough to stop a hybrid Elder? Tanis rather doubted it; according to Selene, Marcus had practically shrugged off the blasts of her pistol. Still, perhaps the UV cartridges might stand a chance?

He took a step toward his armory, but not quickly enough. The heavy doors buckled inward, then exploded off their hinges. They hit the floor with a resounding crash that stirred up a huge cloud of dust. Tanis stared with fear-stricken eyes as Marcus strode through the arched doorway.

The Elder looked just as Tanis remembered, aside from the demonic wings sprouting from his back. Tanis's gaze was riveted by the unnatural wings, which emerged from the back of the battered leather overcoat draped over Marcus's shoulders. Obviously, Selene had not exaggerated the extent of Marcus's transformation, not that Tanis really thought that she had. Killing was Selene's forte, not deceit. In many ways, she was the most honest vampire he knew, and this time was no exception.

Marcus had indeed become an abomination.

The Elder came between Tanis and his armory. Panic overcame the cowardly historian. He scrambled in the opposite direction, into one of the many underground catacombs connected to the cellar. The echo of his own footsteps pursued him as he raced randomly through the tunnels. Hanging cobwebs brushed against him, clinging to his face and hands. Rats scurried away from his slippered feet. He sucked at the musty air, unaccustomed to such exertion. His robe tangled awkwardly around his legs. A st.i.tch in his side felt like a dagger in his flesh.

Tanis wished that he had never heard the word hybrid.

He rounded a corner, then another, then another. It was like a maze down here, he reminded himself. Perhaps he could lose Marcus in this murky subterranean labyrinth?

"h.e.l.lo, Tanis," said the Elder, directly in front of him.

Tanis suddenly found himself face-to-face with Marcus. How? Yelping in fright, he spun around and took off back the way he had come. Almost by accident, he stumbled back into the wine cellar. A long wooden table, laid out with copper plates and goblets, gave him something to lean against. Exhausted, he wasted a few precious seconds catching his breath.

"Tanis..."

He started, almost losing his balance. He turned around to see Marcus standing at the other end of the table.

"You seem anxious," the Elder said. "Why do you flee from the very sight of me?"

Tanis was too frightened to form a coherent response. He stepped nervously away from the table.

Marcus flashed him a predatory smile. He took a seat and politely motioned for Tanis to do the same. "Please, sit. There's no need for this to be unpleasant. I've always rather enjoyed your company." Tanis hesitated, and glanced toward his recently depleted armory. The Elder's voice took on a more threatening edge. "Now you're being rude."

"Sorry." Tanis sat down at the opposite end of the table, as far from Marcus as possible. This appeared to satisfy the Elder, who nodded approvingly.

"Viktor struck two keys," he stated. "What do you know of them?"

Tanis resisted an urge to glance over at his library, where not long ago he had shown Selene and her cohort the original diagrams of the lock. He tried to remember if that particular volume was still lying open on the other table.

"Keys? I don't know of any keys," he lied.

Marcus c.o.c.ked his head. An instant later, his wings snapped forward like the jaws of a trap. Razor-sharp talons pierced Tanis's shoulders, slamming him facedown onto the table. Tanis shrieked in shock and agony. Kicking and screaming, he tried to tear himself free from the Elder's vicious pinions, but the talons were inserted too deeply into his flesh. Using his wings, Marcus effortlessly dragged Tanis across the table. Copper plates and cutlery clattered to the floor.

Tanis felt like a fish twisting upon an angler's hook. Lifting his head from the rough wooden tabletop, he came face-to-face with the Elder's saturnine visage. He saw neither patience nor mercy in Marcus's eyes.

"Oh, yes,those keys," Tanis stammered. "One was kept in plain sight, draped around his daughter's lovely neck...right there for you to see."

Marcus didn't like the implication. He lifted his wings, violently hauling Tanis up closer to his face. "And the other?"

"Kept with Viktor," Tanis said hastily. "At all times."

"Where?"

"Within him...beneath the flesh."

Marcus glowered balefully at Tanis, weighing the historian's words. Tanis dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, he might come through this night with his immortality intact. If I do, he vowed, I'm going to bury myself so deep that no vampire, lycan, or hybrid will ever find me again. My books will be my only companions.

Then Marcus smiled, baring his teeth, and Tanis realized it was already too late. "No, I beg you...no!"

Marcus paid no heed to his frantic cries. Still holding on to the impaled historian with his wings, the Elder drove his fangs into Tanis's throat.

As the blood poured down his throat, Marcus sifted expertly through the scribe's memories. As the sole surviving Elder, he alone now possessed the knowledge and experience required to control the flow of the blood memories, so that they presented a cohesive narrative rather than a flood of incoherent images. As with Kraven before, Marcus readily found the moments he required: "But I know who can stop him," Tanis informed Selene, in a shameless attempt to curry her favor and preserve his own miserable existence. "Perhaps I can arrange a meeting...."

Marcus lifted his mouth from Tanis's neck and withdrew his talons from the historian's shoulders. The vampire's head slumped lifelessly onto the table. Andreas Tanis would never again betray the buried secrets of the past. Now he was nothing more than history himself.

His wings folded around him, Marcus left the cellar without a backward glance. He now knew where to find Selene and Michael, and in whose company they were likely to be.

Of course, he thought. I should have antic.i.p.ated as much.

Chapter Eighteen.

The Sancta Helena was docked on the east side of the Danube, between the Chain and Elizabeth bridges. Piers and warehouses dominated the sleeping waterfront. Towering steel cranes, abandoned for the night, perched over dilapidated wharves. Rusty freighters, bearing goods from all over Europe and beyond, were anch.o.r.ed along the sh.o.r.e. The Sancta Helena, sleek and immaculate, looked rather out of place among the weather-beaten cargo s.h.i.+ps berthed nearby. No doubt Lorenz Macaro had his own reasons for staying away from the more upscale docks.

Selene and Michael were parked in a narrow alley overlooking the pier. Their view of the stationary vessel offered few clues regarding what sort of reception they might encounter aboard the s.h.i.+p. "How do we know Tanis isn't setting us up?" Michael asked.

"He's not brave enough to set me up," she replied. Seated behind the wheel, she questioned whether this was a good idea. She had heard of these so-called Cleaners before; the Death Dealers had been aware for centuries that a secret society of mortals was determined, for reasons unknown, to conceal the existence of the immortals from their fellow humans. The origins and motive of the Cleaners had been the subject of constant rumor and speculation, but the Elders had always discouraged Selene and the other Death Dealers from probing too deeply into the matter. Why was that? she wondered. What were Viktor and the others trying to hide?

At this point, she didn't trust any of the Elders' edicts anymore.

She considered how best to approach the s.h.i.+p. Maybe I should do some reconnaissance first? Michael wouldn't like being left behind again, but she was reluctant to walk into the lions' den without a.s.sessing the s.h.i.+p's security first. If nothing else, she thought, we should know where the viable escape routes are.

Furious barking, coming from right outside the car, startled her. A snarling rottweiler threw itself against the driver's-side window, planting its front paws up against the gla.s.s. Selene reached for her guns, but held her fire. The s...o...b..ring rottweiler was just a dog, not a werewolf.

With a sharp command, the dog was pulled back away from the window. A flashlight beam searched the interior of the car. Squinting into the glare, Selene saw that the light was attached to an AK-47 a.s.sault rifle being held by a looming figure in a black, paramilitary uniform. A second beam entered the car from the opposite direction. Glancing over, she saw another guard and watchdog standing watch outside Michael's door.

So much for casing the s.h.i.+p in advance, she thought. Looks like we're meeting the Cleaners even sooner than I antic.i.p.ated.

The first guard stepped forward and shouted at her through the window. "You're trespa.s.sing," he declared in French. "Get out of the car slowly so I can see your hands."

Selene resisted the temptation to draw her own weapons. They were here for information, not a firefight. "We're here to see Lorenz Macaro."

Ignoring her explanation, both guards raised their weapons and took aim at the windows. "I told you to exit the vehicle so I can see your hands."

"You want to see my hands, do you?" She slowly raised her arms, then slammed her open palms against the window.

Sonja's pendant gleamed in the light of the first guard's search-beam.

That did the trick. Within minutes, she and Michael found themselves being escorted through a high-tech operations center aboard the s.h.i.+p. Selene was impressed at the scale and sophistication of the setup. The advanced, state-of-the-art equipment rivaled anything possessed by the coven. She allowed a flicker of hope to enter her heart. Perhaps this Macaro really did have the resources to deal with the threat posed by Marcus.