"How long do you think it'll last?"

"Long enough to make love to you again?"

She smiled. "That would be good."

He kissed her, long and deep. There were questions, she knew. Many questions, particularly for Lucien. Nick, she was sure, wanted the answers as much as she did.

But they could wait. 118 I.

LUCIEN.

By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth: sought him, but I found him not.

-Song of Songs, 3:1 Ea said, "I did not tell the G.o.ds' secret-rather it came to the wise man in his dreams."

So Enlil went into the boat and took me by the hand. "From this moment," he said, "you shall live at the mouth of the rivers, and never die."

-The First Book of Gilgamesh, as recorded by Aanu, c. 5,000 BCE The First Born have taken demons' names, but in time they may choose new names. In that time a light in the world will transform the world, and those accursed at the beginning may yet be blessed in the end.

-The Book of Changing Blood 119 PRELUDE.

In the few days since Halloween, everything Vivian knew had changed. It seemed weeks-months, even-had pa.s.sed since the death of the Senior and Julian's rise to power. Even knowing the Senior had allowed himself to be killed, she couldn't help thinking of it as a sort of military coup. It still surprised her to see Julian walk out of the Senior's office in sweater and jeans, his young, not-quite Asian face and slim body incongruous with her perception of what the Senior should be. She couldn't shake the image of the bulkier former Senior vampire, his darker skin and wider jaw.

It occurred to her she'd never known his real name. Perhaps it was better that way. She could remember him always as the Senior, and leave Julian to be Julian.

She didn't trust Julian. Not yet. She didn't know him well enough to trust him. And although the fact he hadn't killed her when he'd come into power spoke well of him, his presence made her nervous. Maybe because no one knew yet exactly what he'd become.

She'd seen something of his transformation, though, when he'd brought Nicholas back from the brink of death. Lucien, the mysterious, tall, inconceivably ancient vampire in the cowl who kept turning up at odd intervals, had shown him how to do it. Julian had accepted his revelations, spa.r.s.e as they'd been, without hesitation. Perhaps Vivian should follow his lead and let herself relax in the face of the new leadership.

Nicholas certainly seemed unconcerned, but then he'd just come back from the dead for the second time in his life and probably couldn't help being happy about it. As they sat in the Senior's-Julian's-office, he seemed content to absorb whatever came his way. Vivian sat next to him and noticed that his constant, vague presence within her mind had changed.

She'd Made him three years ago, and the relationship created a superficial mental bond. She couldn't read his mind exactly, but she always knew where he was and had a general idea of how he felt. The connection was different now, as if a thin, not120 quite-opaque curtain had fallen between them.

They were all there now, all the major players-Julian and Lorelei, Vivian, Nicholas, and Lucien-all summoned by Julian for reasons still unknown. Lucien was for once without the overly dramatic brown robe and cowl, clad instead in ordinary jeans and a plain green sweatshirt. Vivian wasn't sure why the monkish attire had bothered her so much. It seemed affected, she thought. Too much. Plus it reminded her of things she'd tried for centuries to forget.

If she were honest with herself, though, she'd admit that Julian and Lucien both gave her the w.i.l.l.i.e.s. Particularly Lucien.

Looking at him made her feel like someone had just walked over her nonexistent grave.

Julian took a cigarette out of his pocket and held it up, looking at it as if he were trying to decide whether or not to light it. Next to him, Lorelei regarded the cigarette balefully.

He didn't look at her, but seemed acutely aware of her disapproval.

"So how are you feeling, Nicholas?" he asked.

Nicholas shrugged. He certainly looked better than he had three days ago, when he'd given nearly all his blood to Dina to save her life. He looked different, in fact. Vivian wasn't sure why-then it clicked. He looked less vampiric. He looked alive.

"Good," he said. "Very good, in fact."

"And Dina?"

Nicholas' soft smile warmed Vivian's heart. Her boy was in love. It looked good on him. "She's fine. Doesn't like going to mysterious meetings that last all night, though."

Julian smiled. "Not a problem. I'm sure she could use the rest." He put the unlit cigarette back in his pocket and turned toward Lucien, who sat behind Julian's desk. Vivian had wondered why Julian had let Lucien take the position of power, but now she realized it didn't matter. No matter who sat where, Julian had complete control of the room. "Now. Lucien. You need to answer a few questions."

Lucien shrugged. His deeply serene stillness affected even the deep, oddly accented timbre of his voice. "Ask them."

"First of all, who exactly are you?" 121 "That's a long story."

"Then you might want to start talking."

"How long do we have?"

Julian looked at his watch. "The sun just went down, and

it's November. You've got quite a while."

Lucien settled back in his chair. "Good. Then I can start at the beginning." 122 THE BEGINNING.

The Mountains of the Mother's Spine 10,000 BCE.

The four virgin girls stood in a small huddle, shrouded in dark linen. They shifted uneasily, and from time to time one would move as if to talk to one of the others, but then would turn back and speak not at all.

In front of them the Mother's Womb opened like a dark maw in the mountain, belching incense. Mylie, at the front of the line, could smell it, spicy, thick. It made her head spin. From beyond the door came the sounds of chanting. The shamans called the G.o.ds. Behind her one of the other girls choked back a moan of fear.

Mylie closed her eyes. She would be first. She had no idea what would happen to her within the Womb's walls. The shamans had told them they would join with the G.o.ds. She a.s.sumed it meant she would die. They would be sacrificed, all of them, their blood spilled to appease the angry G.o.d who, over the past two years, had nearly decimated their village by withholding rain.

The smell of incense grew stronger. A shaman appeared in the doorway, necklaces of teeth and bone rattling around his throat. He took Mylie's arm and drew her into the cave.

Her feet failed her, digging into the dirt as her breath came suddenly fast and her heart beat hard in her throat. The shaman gave her a hard look and jerked at her arm. She stumbled across the threshold of the cave's entrance. As she breathed the thick incense inside, her courage returned.

Her heart still beat hard, her breath still came fast and shallow, but she followed the shaman with a semblance of calm.

He let go of her arm, but his demeanor registered no approval.

He merely stared straight ahead into the incense-fogged interior of the cave.

In the pit at the center of the cave a fire burned. There was no other light, no windows or torches, and the red-orange 123 light of the fire writhed on the painted mud walls. The shamans-six women, two men-stood in a circle around the fire. They sang in a language Mylie had never heard before.

The sound of it made her skin p.r.i.c.kle with fear.

The shaman grasped her arm again, steering her forward.

She saw then the crude stone altar set in the center of the flames, the fire lapping all around it.

"No," she said, the word torn from her in spite of her effort to remain silent. Her feet stopped moving again, digging into the ground. But here there was no loose dirt to dig into, only hard-packed earth. The shaman jerked at her arm, yanking her toward the fire.

Another shaman came forward from the circle and took her other arm. The two men pulled the robe from her, leaving her naked. She shivered even in the heat, afraid. The men took her arms again and forced her up to the edge of the flames.

Desperate, she looked toward the women shamans, who still stood singing. They would not return her gaze.

She was inside the circle of chanting now, close enough to the fire to feel the heat writhing up her legs. It hurt already. She thought she would die there of fear. She wished she would. It would be better, faster, than the flames.

Then, all around her, the chanting changed. It seemed to fill the air, not just with sound but with touch, pressure, heat and colors. The sweet, dark smell of the incense filled her head.

She felt herself lifted but didn't know what lifted her. Her body moved over the lapping flame, until she lay upon the altar.

She felt no heat, only a pressure against her body as she lay on her back. What had seemed reality a moment ago now seemed a dream, vivid and clear, but not quite real.

The pressure grew, molding her body, heavy against her belly and thighs. Still the fear seemed distant, another woman's fear, as the smoke above her coalesced. A figure grew there, a man but not a man, dark, with eyes that seemed to open into another world.

Transfixed by the eyes, she moved with the corporeal smoke. It covered her and suddenly entered her. Heat filled her in a flash, as if the fire around her had come into her body, 124 and she screamed. But then the fire had become another sort of fire, and she writhed with it as heat filled her, as the smoke filled her, as whatever had entered the smoke came deep and hard within her.

Then the fire became only fire again. Hot and deadly, it lapped at her feet, and she screamed with the pain. But the chanting took her again, and somehow her body moved away from the flames. A moment later she stood on the packed dirt floor a few feet from the fire and the altar. Shamans stood to either side of her, holding her up as she shook and sobbed. But it seemed another woman shook and sobbed while she watched from deep within herself, marveling at what had happened.

She had mated with a G.o.d.

The shamans, touching her more gently now, put her robes back over her. She quieted as they led her through a dark pa.s.sageway of the cave, toward a circle of light that led outside.

Everything seemed different to her now, the colors on the walls brighter, the ground softer beneath her bare feet. The opening the shamans took her to was surrounded by a bright red border.

They stepped through.

The cave's back way opened on an open area, a place where flowers could have grown if there had been rain, but there had not been rain for a long time. A natural curve of stone surrounded the small courtyard, broken by four round openings.

Four small, natural caves.

"You will have a room here," said the shaman. "Each of you your own. Your families will come at times to visit you. We will see to your food and drink and your comfort in all things.

You carry the G.o.d's seed within you. You will be blessed, and you will bring us salvation."

She stared. "What do you mean? How long will we be kept here?"

He led her forward into the courtyard, toward the first opening on the left-hand side, toward the small cave where she would live.

"Until the child comes."

Six Months Later 125 The children had all come early, within minutes of each other. Four children, healthy and bawling. Two mothers dead.

The other two nearly so.

Mylie had lived, but barely, and she felt life ebbing from her as the shamans took her child. She saw little of him, except that he was big-bigger than any newborn she'd seen before. She'd spent the night surrounded by the screams of the other women, the wailing of the babies, the smell of blood. The shamans seemed unconcerned with the fate of the women, only with the children.

Mylie barely remembered the past stretch of hours. Only the sounds, her own pain, the child tearing out of her body.

Now they wouldn't let her see or touch it.

One of the shamans pa.s.sed her bed, bent to adjust her blankets. She turned her head to look at him, and he started.

"You live."

"Yes. For now."

He grunted. "Mere mortal women could not expect to safely deliver the children of G.o.ds."

"No one could have thought of that before?"

The shaman looked at her darkly. "We were dying. All of us. It seemed worth the sacrifice."

Mylie had birthed a G.o.d-his disapproval frightened her not at all. "I want to see my child."

"That is not possible. The children have been taken into the temple. They will be raised there."

"I have milk. I could feed him."

The shaman snorted. "A G.o.dchild feasting on the milk of a human breast? An appalling thought." He lifted her blankets, glanced at the ruin the child had left behind. "You will die before dawn. There's nothing I can do."

He left her then, apparently unaffected by her glare.

A few cots down, the other still-living mother moaned. She and Mylie had been the largest of the chosen girls, which was probably the reason they'd survived the births. But the priest was right. Mylie didn't have much time left.

Outside, night had fallen. The last of the roaming shamans 126 departed, taking the dead with them. Only Mylie and the other girl remained, and the other girl had fallen silent. Dark shadows swam around the room, around their fur pallets, swarming up the paintings on the walls. The G.o.d lurked within them, perhaps.

Did he mourn the deaths of the girls who had birthed his children?

Mylie found it hard to imagine.

The shamans were gone, and the room lay in a dead quiet.

Mylie lifted her head. Across the cave a door opened into another chamber, where there was light. The shamans had taken the babies through that door, into whatever chamber lay beyond it. She could walk that far, she thought, perhaps steal a glance at her child before the last of her life leaked away.

Pain flared, then faded as she moved. Perhaps it meant death was near. It didn't matter. Gathering what little strength remained, she edged off the pallet. She wavered to her feet, took one step, two. Step after step came together in a blur as the world faded around her. When it returned, she was standing in the open doorway.

A pale light filled the small room, touching four small, sleeping faces. They lay next to each other in a small clump.