Page 1 of The Vampire's Thirst
Prologue
What I hold in my palm is the present, but each grain is the past.
— Ohngel, as he scooped a fistful of sand from the beach
Wales, Fourteen Years After the Karmic Schism of AD 452
In the quivering firelight, the Cambion’s shadow danced on the calcite-draped cavern wall, mushrooming, stretching toward the ceiling, an image more haunting than his own dark figure.
The only sounds in the cave were the trickle of an underground stream and the crackle of tinder. Crisp, cool air taunted the warlock’s nostrils while a damp breeze from a vent deep within the bowels of darkness feathered across his face.
Fourteen years ago, he and the twelve other powerful mages of the Blood Coven performed the Karmic Schism to forge the three realms of Earth, Scath, and Darque from one world. Afterward, he ordered the spellcasters to remain hidden on Earth along with their offspring so they could not be used to re-open the portals.
The witch Niviane violated his trust by sending their daughter to Scath. Though a child of his seed, her birth had been unknown to him. Despite being an unwitting partner in the betrayal, his guilt was heavy, his soul drained of light.
Worse yet, Ohngel, his mentor, the fire-winged assassin of the OneCreator, now warned that the progeny of their union could play a deadly role in what was to come.
Though his offspring’s destruction would be a simple matter, it was never one the Cambion considered. He was not so iron-hearted. Besides, Ohngel said events must play out as they happen.
To counter Niviane’s perfidy, his mentor set new tasks for him. And though the Cambion did not understand the strategy behind these tasks, he trusted the male who had become his friend.
Today, he would perform the most perplexing chore. The hem of the powerful mage’s robe traced a spidery pattern in the dirt when he shuffled back and forth, preparing to cast an enchantment. With a twist of a wrist, he ignited wood shavings, twigs, and logs. Once the flames licked high, his weary, trembling fingers dug into his pocket to extract a pouch containing galangal, hazel, jasmine, and lemongrass along with rarities from African tribal elders. He tossed the contents onto the fire.
Murmuring words gleaned from his time in the dark jungles, the Cambion morphed, bones snapping, flesh tearing but re-assembling as feathers. A beak formed. Talons curled from his feet.
He stretched and fluttered, savoring the new shape which would take him to Scath, the realm of Aeternals.
With rich brown wings spread wide, the red-tailed hawk soared over a farm in the Amori region where a young succubus scattered grain for hungry chickens. He swooped down on the maiden to plant his seed, to enfold her in the soft velvet of desire.
With a talon, he slashed his breast, feeding her his lifeblood. In nine months, the succubus Coye would birth an incubus babe.
His task complete, the Cambion returned to the cavern’s blazing fire. With his hands raised high, the sleeves of his robe sliding down to reveal thin arms, he summoned Ohngel.
Taller and broader than the mage, his mentor leaned against the cavern wall, his eyes heavy with remorse. “Only one of your two bloodlines will survive.”
“Will it be chaos or order? Will it be the child born of Niviane or Coye?” asked the Cambion.
His mentor shook his head. “I do not know the answer, friend.”
Wings snapped from Ohngel’s back, carrying him to the ceiling. From there, he zeroed downward toward the fire, bursting from the flames as the Phoenix in bright blue, green, yellow, and crimson shards of light. Beating against the air, he soared out the cave entrance.
When he swooped close to the ground, the prophetic bird exploded into a thousand brilliant colors. The multihued debris swirled in a whirlwind before settling into a slow roil which formed a giant red dragon. Opening its dagger-toothed mouth to unfurl a stream of fire, the beast forced the warlock to throw a defensive arm in front of his face while the creature lurched toward destiny.
The stage was set. A new play was in motion.
ChapterOne
Scath, Present Day
With two demons and a warlock nipping at his ass, Dax ran faster than a questing beast chased by a squadron of harpies.
No doubt about it, he was shitkicker deep in a sticky mess. He’d been trailing the three males as part of a Scion Firebrand investigation into the drug trade on Scath when they surprised him by doubling back. He hadn’t noticed until it was too late. Dumb move. Maybe he needed to get his act together, stop doing time in O blud dens.
Yeah. Not happening.
In the distance a thick stand of trees created a patchwork of light and shade on the forest floor, but he was unable to shadowflash into the dark, canopied shelter to escape. The old and powerful mage on his six must have hit him with a blocking spell. Since Dax was no lightweight in the vampire ability department, he was surprised.
Though he traveled at high speed, stirring dust, his boots thudding on the dirt road, it was time to take it up a notch. He rocketed forward. An eye over his shoulder told him the pursuit team was also double-timing it.
