Edge of Oblivion

“They started this. They declared war on us. Are you familiar with the old adage ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer’? That is what the Alphas of my lineage have done since the Inquisition began in twelve thirty-one. My ancestors quickly realized that a church- sanctioned mass-

murder spree was a golden opportunity to infiltrate the bastion of human leadership and wreak a little havoc of their own, vengeance, if you will. What a wonderful excuse to kill humans! And in such imaginative ways!” He stopped pacing and turned to look at her. His voice dropped an octave, and his expression sent a chill of fear over her skin.

“And that is when the organization was first formed.”

“The Expurgari,” she whispered.

“The Purifiers,” he agreed, nodding. “At first the goal was only to kill as many humans as possible. Thousands were slaughtered, branded heretics, and the church never suspected a thing. They gave us gold, mountains of gold, for the wonderful job we did. We pretended to be their most devout disciples, when all we really wanted was to see their blood run in the streets. And it worked out perfectly...until, in our travels rounding up all their falsely accused, we discovered another colony of Ikati, living hidden in France.”

He resumed his pacing. “Up until that point, we thought we were the only ones. Our records only go as far back as the Roman soldier who brought back four strange, orphaned children from Egypt after Cleopatra was defeated by Caesar Augustus at the battle of Actium. But once the colony in France was discovered, the goal of the Expurgari changed.”

Morgan breathed, “There is no colony in France.”

Dominus stopped pacing. He smiled. “Not anymore.”

“Why?” Her voice broke. “Why would you want to wipe out an entire colony of your own kind?”

“I don’t,” he said, offended, then shrugged. “My ancestors were a little less big picture than I am, however. They didn’t like rivals any more than humans do.”

“But you’re killing the Keepers of the Bloodlines! You’re torturing women—the Queen of our colony—”

“Yes, that,” he said, sour, and returned to his position on the divan. He spread his arms over its scrolled back and fixed her with an intense, penetrating look. “That was a mistake, brought about by the idiotic leader of one of our less organized cells. Humans are so unreliable, but there’s so many of them and so few of us...they’ve been useful minions, for the most part, but what happened at your colony was not planned. He was supposed to take the Keeper, as you know, but unfortunately bungled the job and wound up with a female instead.” A wry smile crept over his face. “I understand your Alpha took care of him, however.”

Morgan moaned, squeezed her eyes shut, and dropped her head into her hands. It was worse than she’d ever thought possible, the worst thing she could imagine, a nightmare from which there would be no awakening.

She’d found the feral Alpha. And she’d found the head of the Expurgari.

They were one and the same.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered through her fingers. “I don’t understand.”

“My plan was never to destroy the other colonies, Morgan,” he said softly, as if to a child. “The Alphas, yes—there can be only one King, and that is me. I wanted the Keepers because they would tell me everything I needed to know about each colony, about the Alphas, the most Gifted Bloodlines, about their defenses and weaknesses and their more disgruntled members who might be convinced it was time for a change. And then I had to kill them, obviously, so they didn’t expose me.”

“But...why?”

She wasn’t looking at him, but she heard the smile in his voice. “Because we are going to come together as one, as it was always meant to be. We will combine our resources and infiltrate their gene pool and take back everything that was stolen from us so long ago. And then...we will rule the world.”

His voice dropped to a zealous whisper. “ ‘Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.’ Such a lovely sentiment, don’t you think? The human Bible is full of little gems like that; their god is a petty, bad-

tempered sort with some substantial insecurity issues, but on this he got it right. Vengeance is best left to the gods. Best left to me.”

Morgan shuddered. Beautiful and genius and completely insane, he had lured her into his trap and she had fallen willingly, like a honeybee drunk with the heady smell of nectar.

He came and stood beside her, touched a gentle hand to her hair. “Think of it,” he said, reasonably, as she shrank away. “No more running. No more hiding. No more living like mice, shaking in the baseboards. We’ll be free, Morgan. Free. ” His voice hardened. “And you—more like me than you’re willing to admit—will stand beside me. As my Queen.”

She stiffened, all her muscles tensed for flight, but before she could move he sensed her intention and yanked her head back with his hand fisted painfully in her hair.

“Or,” he said, gazing down at her, perfectly controlled, “you will end up there.”

He pointed, moving his hand and her head so she was forced to twist around in the chair, craning her neck.

Beyond the horned statue of the devil, beyond the gruesome pile of bones, even farther into the long, sliding shadows of the room stood a modern glass case against the wall, lighted from within to illuminate the contents, row after row of large, screw-top jars with bobbing dark somethings inside.

Heads.

Row upon row of heads preserved in pale yellow liquid with staring wide eyes and clouds of dark hair, desiccated flesh peeling from skulls, lips shrunken and curled back over grinning teeth, the very same heads Jenna had shown her what felt like a lifetime ago.

A roar rose in her ears, pain throbbed in her skull, she felt faint and nauseous and cold. The shaking began somewhere deep in her stomach and spread to her arms and legs, leaving her weak, wobbly as a foal.

“As I said before, I do not tolerate demands, and I do not tolerate disobedience of any kind,” Dominus said, holding her fast. “One act of defiance,” he lifted the index finger of his other hand, “one, and I will not hesitate to put you in my trophy case along with all the others who didn’t see things my way.”

He smiled down at her, excitement burning hot in his eyes. “Obey me, submit to me, rule with me,” he whispered. “Or die. Choose. Now.”

Without thinking, without breaking eye contact, Morgan opened her mouth and very quietly said, “Fuck. You. ”

Faint surprise registered in his coal-black eyes. He blinked. Then, with his hand still fisted painfully in her hair, he rose to his full height and dragged her, limp, along with him.

“Interesting choice of words.”

He opened his fist and released her. She staggered back, panting in sudden terror, until she was brought up short by the icy, invading claw of pain that punched through her chest and flared out in a cold, crackling frost all over her body. The cold spread, hardening her muscles, immobilizing her.

Once again she was trapped, breathless, held hostage inside her own body.

With his arms folded across his broad chest, Dominus said, “Yes, very interesting choice of words, considering what I’m about to do to you.”

His tone was light, but the fury on his face was not, and if she thought she had been afraid before, she knew this was to be an education in fear.

Suddenly, with the numb, jerky movements of a marionette, her hands lifted and began to pull at the material of her dress, grabbing at it, sliding it up over her hips. She stared down at her alien hands in horror, and all she could think was, Xander! Xander! Xander!

“Oh, yes, thank you for reminding me,” Dominus said. “Your boyfriend is coming to save you, but I kill him before he can. Just thought you’d like to know. Now,” he said, his tone a little lower than before, “let’s get you out of that dress.”

And before she could open her mouth to scream, her own puppet hands had pulled the dress over her head and let it fall in a silent puddle to the bare stone floor.