A heavy fog hung over the marshland, the light of a full moon not enough to illuminate the man who stood like a stone pillar amidst shadows. His black trench coat and traveler's hat disguised him well, though there was no one within five hundred miles to see him.

The world now differed little from the one he'd known in his true youth. Destruction was wrought at the hands of rulers pent on conquering others for the sake of advancing their dominion. Sadly, after the last world nuclear war there existed too few humans left in any one country to organize and invade anymore. Yet still, mortals managed to squabble for what little resources remained.

Here in the Bucharest marshlands where his father had been cut down, the lone man almost felt a sense of peace. His father's cursed blood had saved him and his elder brother from the Turks who'd tried to steal their souls. As Dhampirs, offspring of vampire and mortal relations, they possessed unique abilities that allowed them to live through their imprisonment.

He still remembered those days and nights of torture when both he and Vlad refused to die, even after all these centuries. He recalled with clarity how years later he stole the beheaded corpse of his beloved brother and buried it next to their father in this boggy marshland. He didn't bother to mark the graves, knowing by instinct the exact spot where both had lain. Now however, their resting places were desecrated holes, with the family's most powerful possession stolen.

If not for a blood oath to his brother that no other vampyr be made from the accursed Bloodstone of the Draculesti line, he might also have rested beneath the fog and earth. But rest would not exist for the youngest son of Vlad Dracul until he slaughtered the vampiric demons of his bloodline and reclaimed the stone.

Raduslav Dracula.

Chapter One

Linea Kamiya's heart pounded as she raced up the embankment field toward her farm. Her breath came in gasps as she tried to beat the setting sun smearing the sky with shades of dark orange and red. Several times she stumbled, bruising her hands on the jagged rocks hidden in the uneven terrain.

The darkness in her mind stirred as if awakened by her frantic flight. Her leg muscles burned but she couldn't stop. Finally, the dirt road in front of her house came into view giving her a seed of hope that she might obtain sanctuary before full dark.

She stumbled to the middle of the road before an energy force froze her in place. Covering the burning mark on her breast and breathing in hard gasps, she looked to her right to see a lone man atop a huge black solar-cycle, some thirty feet away. She shivered, unable to see his face for the traveler's hat he wore.

What creature might this be, or was he sent from the town to destroy her? Did the townsfolk know about the mark hidden beneath her threadbare tunic? She swallowed hard, straightening her shoulders. She wouldn't make it easy for him if he intended to kill her.

It no longer mattered that the horizon blazed with the last light from the setting sun. She wouldn't make it home in time now and was determined not to show her fear.

"Well then, are you going to kill me or what?" she shouted.

He cocked his head to one side but said nothing.

"Bastard," she muttered. "Better make up your mind. The sun is all but gone and the Sandstone Barrans are the territory of the vamp, Lord Desmondi."

Man and solar-cycle approached her at a leisurely pace, then stopped about ten feet away. Noticing the pure black of his attire emphasizing his broad shoulders and lean torso, she wondered if he was perhaps a demonic being.

An unfamiliar stirring caused her to shiver, nipples pebbling beneath her tunic. She hid her shakes with another dose of bravado.

"I won't run for you to cut me down from behind!" She watched him dismount with deadly grace, and wanted badly to call back the words to her mouth. His lean frame towered over her like an oak tree above a daisy.

"Where is this vampyr Lord that rules this region?"

Linea wanted to moan as his voice slid through her like warm sweet chocolate, his low pitch accenting the sensual undertones of his voice.

"Are you a hunter?" she asked, her own voice sounding breathless.

He nodded.

Elation filled her. She'd considered making a full day trip to the neighboring town of Quartzite to hire a hunter, but feared having to travel back at night. Now here was her chance to save herself.

"I'd like to hire you."

When he didn't react in any way, she added, "I can pay you fifty gold pieces plus room and food." She knew she'd agree to anything more he demanded, since fifty gold pieces weren't a lot in the American Western Barrans.

They stood in almost complete darkness now, the slivered moon no protection from the mutated fiends that lurked in the dark. She glanced away from him, distracted by another stirring in her mind.

"How often has he fed from you?" the hunter asked.

She wanted to cringe and shrink away as he stepped toward her, but the dulcet tone of his voice kept her still. His nearness also pushed back the vamp Lord's presence that stirred mockingly in her mind.

"Lord Desmondi caught me only once." She pulled her tunic down from her neck exposing the two puncture marks on her right breast. "But I can still feel him in my head." She couldn't believe she was exposing herself to a stranger, but didn't seem to have the will to stop.

The hunter stared at her breast for a moment then gently lifted the material back up to her neck. "So then, he's powerful." He turned away from her and started back to his cycle.

"I accept your offer so long as you understand that I am no ordinary hunter." He paused at his cycle, one hand on the seat. "I am a Dhampir."

Linea swallowed hard. Dhampirs were supposedly a legend. A creature so powerful they hunted their own vampyr kin out of sheer spite. It explained why the few words he'd spoken held no inflection of emotion; she would hate to become like this creature. Thank goodness Desmondi's sway over her would dissipate once he was dead.

"I understand," she said.