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  We looked like any other normal tourists, I thought. Just a guy and a girl out to see a castle.

  Well, if it was normal for a tourist to have a loaded Glock tucked into the back waistband of her jeans, that is.

  Even though it was daylight, I wasn’t taking any chances. We were close to finding out why the Monsignor wanted Michael—I could feel it in my bones. And I didn’t want to screw it up.

  Though we were following the group, I was only half listening to the tour-guide who was spouting off historical facts about how the castle was one of the best preserved in Wales and how many parts of it still functioned.

  One thing did catch my attention though.

  “And here we have the private chapel,” she said, smiling at the group who was ooing and ahhing at the beautiful stonework and the colored tiles visible though the stone archway. “It may interest you to know this chapel is still in use—one of the oldest in Wales—the local Church of England still has services here at least once a month. You should hear the choir sing—the acoustics are truly unbelievable.”

  “Hang on,” I said, tightening my grip on Michael’s hand and hanging back as the rest of the tour group surged forward to see the gorgeous little chapel which was really no more than a tiny room compared to the other large, echoing spaces in the castle.

  “What?” He frowned at me. “You don’t want to see?”

  “We can see fine from out here. Didn’t you hear her? The chapel is still in use.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You really think that would be a problem for me? I mean, this castle is so old and I’m not really a normal vampire—”

  “I don’t care,” I cut him off. “It might look old and historic but if they’re still holding church here, it’s probably not safe for you. Let’s not take a chance.”

  He sighed. “All right. We’re not really here to sight-see anyway.”

  “You’re right. And I think now is the perfect time to go looking for the secret records room.”

  Hand-in-hand, we slipped away from the rest of the tour group and searched around the castle. We had taken the last tour of the day so it was getting on towards evening and the sun was setting outside by the time we found the hidden door snake-lady two had told us about. It was right across from the chapel, actually—cunningly hidden behind a carved wooden panel that looked like it was centuries old.

  “This looks like it,” I told Michael, who was playing look-out.

  “Great! Come on—we can slip inside and search for the genealogy and the prophesy.”

  “You think it’ll be there?” I asked, meaning the prophesy. I was already trying to find a way in.

  He shrugged. “Worth a try. If it’s written down anywhere it makes sense it would be in the same place as the completed genealogy of our family tree.”

  Our family tree. The thought gave me a strange little shiver down my spine. It was strange to think that Michael and I shared an ancestor way, way back in the distant mists of time. It made me feel not quite so alone. He wasn’t another slayer, but a strain of the same blood as mine ran in his veins and he had been affected by the curse of vampirism the same way I had, albeit in a different way. It made me feel close to him—or maybe I was just feeling the new bond between us that seemed to tie us together in a way I didn’t understand.

  “Are you in yet?” Michael asked.

  “Not yet.”

  I decided I had better stop analyzing my new relationship status and get back to finding a way into the secret records room.

  There was a tricky little knob hidden in the carved fretwork on the outer edge of the secret door but snake-lady two had told us how to work it. I twisted it twice to the right, seven times to the left, and twice more to the right. With a creak that echoed in the long stone corridor, the small door swung open.

  “Perfect,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Hurry,” Michael whispered. “I think I hear the group coming back. They must be leaving by now—it’s nearly dark outside.”

  “Get in here, then.” I grabbed him by the arm and hauled him into the small stone room just in time. As the door snicked shut behind us, we heard the tour-guide thanking everyone for coming and wishing them a pleasant evening.

  “Whew.” Michael mimed wiping sweat from his forehead. “Just in time.”

  “Yeah. Well, I guess this is the place.” I pulled out a flashlight and switched it on—the hidden room was windowless and extremely dark. I shone it around the room and Michael gave a long, low whistle.

  “This looks like a long job Kate—going through all of this.”

  He had a point. Rows and rows of bookshelves greeted my gaze—many of them filled with rolls of parchment as well as thick, ancient looking tomes bigger than a backpack. There was also a tall leather chair with its back to us seated in front of a stone fireplace set into one of the walls. The grate was cold and dark though someone—maybe snake lady two?—had laid out the logs for a fresh fire at some time in the future.

  “We might be here all night,” I remarked, going over to one bookcase and touching a leather-bound volume that appeared to be centuries old.

  “Well, at least we’re here together,” Michael remarked. He came up behind me and started nuzzling my neck. “It might be kind of romantic,” he murmured, kissing the sensitive lobe of my ear. “We can build a fire in the fireplace…get cozy…”

  “Didn’t you get enough last night?” I meant the words to come out sharp and crisp but they were more of a sultry purr—if a slayer can be said to purr. God, one night of mind-blowing sex and I was sounding more like a horny kitten than a vampire killer. But having his hands on me and his big, warm body so close to mine made me not give a damn.

  “I can never get enough of you, Kate,” Michael whispered and kissed the side of my neck.

  I was tempted to give in and make love with him again right there against the dusty bookshelves but I knew we were already facing a long job—better not to get distracted.

  “Come on, Michael,” I said, squirming away from his mouth, which was sending sparks of pleasure tingling from my neck straight down to my nipples. “We need to get to work if we’re ever going to find out why the Monsignor wants you.”

  “Oh, I think I can save you the trouble of looking through all those books and papers. Though I'm afraid it might put a crimp in your romantic evening.”

  The thin, whispery voice was horribly familiar…and horribly near. I put a hand to my mouth as a tall, thin shadow rose from the chair that was facing the fireplace.

  It was the Monsignor and he had apparently been waiting for us.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  “What the hell do you want?” I asked in a trembling voice, backing away from the tall figure.

  “Just as you surmised, child, I want your paramour.” He pointed at Michael who was standing in front of me protectively. “I wanted him before you ran from me but it’s so much better now. For now that he has drunk of you and the two of you have bonded, his blood has been changed—transmuted if you will—to something wholly new and different.”

  “You can’t have his blood or any part of him,” I snapped. Pulling out my Glock, I shouldered Michael aside and pointed it at the shadowy figure of the Monsignor.

  “I wouldn’t do that, my dear.” The Monsignor snapped his fingers and a fire blazed up suddenly in the fireplace, illuminating his thin figure.

  “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t.” I winced at the sudden brilliance but kept my gun pointed at his chest.

  “Because—if you kill me, you also kill Michael.” The Monsignor stepped forward and lifted the crimson cowl away to bare his features.

  For the first time, I saw his face.

  It was narrow and thin with gray skin stretched tightly over the bones—a corpse’s face—except for the eyes. His eyes were slitted and blood-red, just as they had been in my dreams and when he smiled he revealed long yellow fangs with razor sharp points that gleamed in the firelight.

  “For y