Vivian

The stink of death hangs over Rome like thick smoke on a day with no wind. Less than an hour after my arrival, my senses became overwhelmed with the rotting bodies of plague victims clogging the cobblestone streets.

Young, old, women, and children stacked up like wood, waiting to be hauled away. I've seen this before when death ravages a city-there are not enough people to do the work. Having a rogue vampire preying on anything healthy doesn't help, either.

The council sent me when other vampires fled the city, reporting the plague wasn't the only thing sweeping through the population, killing with abandon. From what I was told, this same scenario has happened in the past-a high death count triggers something deep in a vampire's psyche, destroying the tenuous hold they have on their inner monster, pushing them rogue.

A few conceal their insanity, walking the fine line of hiding their many kills from society and their brethren for decades, while others snap and slaughter blindly until caught and eliminated.

The moist heat of the Italian summer wraps a suffocating hold around me as I slip through the darkened, deserted streets. I'm dressed like a nobleman in hose, breeches, a linen shirt, and a sleeveless doublet-with my sword in a scabbard at my side. My long hair is bound under a hat, my face darkened with coal to look like facial hair.

I searched for days to discover where the rogue hunted. The residences of the city's merchant families don't have many bodies outside, indicating they've shut themselves off from the lower classes whom the sickness often hits first. I came across three separate piles of sheet-wrapped victims, none of them reeking of disease.

Tonight, I wander those same streets, listening for any movement in the darkness, pausing next to posts... waiting to see what the evening may bring. As midnight looms closer a lone figure roams the cobblestones, his head swiveling back and forth scanning for signs of prey.

He strolls past piles of garbage, then hesitates outside a dwelling where a candle flickers inside. The sound of a baby crying for a midnight feeding rouses the home's occupants-perfect preoccupied targets for a deranged murderer. I sneeze, turning the simple noise into a loud hoot of air to draw the vampire's attention, and step away from the post, walking straight toward the beast.

I keep my head down, looking through my lashes, watching to see what he'll do. He glances from the house to me, then settles on the meal coming at him-can't get much easier than that.

The rogue's unwashed stench hits me from fifteen feet away, a sign his madness might have progressed past the ability to blend into society. My powers are locked down tightly and the illusion of a healthy human pulses around me like a second skin.

Halfway across the street, I drop my coin purse, making a big show of retrieving it and displaying my neck as an effortless target. The insane vampire can't resist, and lunges, covering the distance between us in the blink of an eye. Anticipating his move, I draw the sword from my side, sweeping my arm up in an underhanded strike.

The blow guts the advancing vampire from stomach to chest. Wobbling on his feet, his innards spill onto the stones. The rush of his released power fills me, the high of killing coating my mind, urging me to finish the kill.

A shocked scream of outrage spills into the night, but I pay it no mind. I step to the side, gripping the blade with both hands, and slice his head from his neck. Blood spurts into the hot night as the body crumples to the ground.

My instincts race to the surface, driving me to follow custom, and drink. Spoils to the victor.

The hot liquid flows down my throat, instantly changing from the acidic taste of the crazed to the rare flavor of love. Memories flood my mind as I spiral into the darkness, gulping down the blood like my very existence depends on it.

Passionate kisses, loving embraces... sweaty, frantic coupling with the man I love... the memory of a life I thought would be forever denied me, calling me back... my hands latch onto a warm wrist and the smell of my husband fills my senses.

"That's it, liebling... drink. I have you now."

I drink for several minutes, afraid to open my eyes and see he might not be real. The burning in my body lessens with every pull. I stop when I hear a change in the heartbeat under my ear, telling me I've taken enough from my willing donor.

A rough hand travels up and down my shoulder, soothing me while I'm rocked gently on a warm lap. If this is a dream my mind has created to escape the torture I don't want to wake up.

"Dria? Can you hear me?" The ragged whisper breaks through my haze, the pain in the voice unmistakable. Small drops hit my face as lips press to my mouth in a brief kiss. "Come back to me. Fight the dark and come back to me."

Unable to put off the agony of not knowing any longer, I open my eyes, unsure what I'll do if I see the taunting forms of Lucas and Cora standing over me again. But they're not.

The only link to my remaining humanity looks down at me, the soft smile on his face full of love. "I'd thought I lost you there for a while," Rafe says.

My husband stands, carrying my battered body and steps over the decapitated body of Lucas on his way to the door. The aroma of death lingers on him, the scents too many for me to discern at once.

Tears sting my eyes, mingling with Rafe's, as they course down my cheeks. "I thought I'd already lost you."

His smile grows, easing the ragged lines of exhaustion carved into his face. "You should know by now-I will never give up."

The mental wall I hold close crumbles and sobs wrack my body. I hug the man I love more than anything in the world-clinging to him with a ferocity born from the desperation of my own insanity. I was there. I was locked inside of the killing.

I didn't want to come back.

Without him, there would be no coming back.

The rest of the afternoon zips by in a blur. Rafe hustles me, and the covered forms of Drew and Paul, out to a waiting car. He says it's borrowed from someone named Justin, but I have no idea who that is, nor do I particularly care.

We're unloaded in the garage of a hotel downtown and transported upstairs to a suite of rooms with Chelly, Bob, and Tommy waiting for us. Rafe force feeds me two bags of Jon's blood, then cleans my limp, healing body in the shower and bundles me in a fluffy robe.

The horrors of my torture still linger close to the surface, and I'm grateful we're alone in the bedroom. I don't think I can take the curious stares and questions.

My strength is returning, drinking Jon's blood really helped, but mentally I'm not quite myself, nor has the silver poisoning worked its way through my system yet. I crave a deep restorative sleep for the first time in years, and yet, a part of my mind fears letting go... of what I'll see lurking in the dark when I'm weak. As I lie on the bed and hold my husband's hand, a tingle presses against my mind.

"I need to call Jon," I say, pushing myself to lean against the headboard.

Rafe nods, looking for the world like he's about to drop. "Call this satellite number." He rumbles off the numbers of one of the phones I keep in the tunnels.

"Why? Has something happened?"

He nods and closes his eyes, putting his head in my lap and wrapping an arm over my thighs. "Yes, but they handled it."

I pick up the phone on the bedside table and dial the number while sending out a mental push of Answer your phone through the mental link I have with Jon.

The phone rings six or seven times before the breathless Were picks up. "Hello? Dria, is it you?"

I smile at his use of my real name, an intimacy he rarely allows himself. "Yes."

A heavy sigh comes over the line. "What the hell happened? I couldn't feel you in my mind."

"It's a long story..." I relay everything that happened-not lingering over the bad parts like my torture and temporary loss of sanity-and answer his questions when he butts in.

He fills me in on what happened in Alaska, including the mind wipe of the three hunters, and the implanted story that a rabid wolf really killed the girl, a wolf they followed all the way to Alaska to hunt down and kill. Sticking as close to the story as possible always helps the new memories stick.

I chuckle when he gets to the end. Apparently, the likelihood of a rabid wolf traveling from Manitoba to Alaska didn't seem too far-fetched to the men when they thought up the idea.

I try to end the call when the exhaustion gets to be too much. Jon's voice takes on a note of panic when he hears my voice trail off for the third time. Before he'll let me hang up, I have to promise to call back after resting.

Despite my earlier fears of what might await me, I wrap my arms around my snoozing husband, and lean back on the pillows, letting myself go.

We wake after midnight and everyone gathers in the living room of the large multi-bedroom suite. Drew and Paul informed Chelly, Bob, and Tommy of what happened at the Tribunal before Rafe and I join them, which is fine by me. I'd rather not have to discuss the details again, if I don't have to.

Drew shares his thoughts on what was happening on the island, and we agree to fly back tomorrow to check out everyone and correct any vampire mind meddling that may have occurred.

Later, in the privacy of our bedroom, Rafe tells me about the wizard Justin. How the man was hired to place protective wards around the Tribunal and paid extra for the binding spell. Now that I think about it, both spells had a similar feel to them. That certainly explains the apprehension I felt when we stepped out of the limo that first night, and again in the bathroom suite before they slipped the hood over me.

Rafe relays his own plight after we were abducted, and how they questioned him about other Manipulators.

I sigh and snuggle into the bed. "I never would have expected Rolando to be involved."

A heavy sigh issues from my husband as he sits up. "I've got some bad news. I didn't cross paths with Rolando when searching for you."

A cold chill spirals down my back. "I thought you got them all. You told me you killed everyone who was in on the abduction."

Rafe runs a hand over his face, squeezing the bridge of his nose like he's trying to ward off a headache. "I killed Cora, then the two guys who held me, then Lucas. I'm sorry, I missed Rolando."

I nod, my thoughts turning inward as I contemplate our next move. "He wanted me to name who I had turned over the centuries."

"I know that look, Dria." Rafe's face pinches. "You can't confront him, right now. You need to heal and get stronger."

I look at my husband-the man who'd slaughter anyone who stood between us without batting an eye-and run my hand down his chest to his flat stomach. "You're exactly right." My hand dips lower to cup and tease, rousing what I need almost as much as blood. "And when we come back, we'll get him off Tribunal property to find out exactly what in the hell is going on."

With a growl, Rafe pins me to the bed and plants kisses down my neck, nudging open my robe in the process. "Not for a very long while." His attentions move lower, where he nips a breast, then licks the skin. "Not if I can help it."