W/ apologies to Brian Pulido, for the

mangling of his original script

San Francisco
        John Dawson switched the car off and got out, wincing as the strong wind blew an icy blast of sleet across his face. He locked up and dashed over to the ATM set into the wall of the bank two hundred metres away, fumbling his card out of his wallet as he went. Jesus, what a night. He had another one hundred and fifty miles to go tonight and he needed gas. He had gotten a phone call from his sister twenty minutes ago telling him that their mother had been rushed into hospital w/ a heart attack and he had raced straight out of the house. And, of course, he had forgotten to pick up his credit card. He stood gratefully in the lee of the bank and shoved his card into the slot, stabbing his PIN into the keypad. The wind barreled down the alleyway to his right, hooting mournfully and driving an empty Budweiser bottle noisily out into the street. He had just requested one hundred bucks and w/drawn his card when the cold hard metal jammed into his neck.
         "Gimme the money and your wallet."
         "Wh-what?" Dawson squeaked in fright, his mind reeling helplessly. It was so unexpected that he didn't seem to be able to make sense of what was happening.
         The gun was shoved harder against his throat. "Don't f*ck w/ me! Don't play stupid and give me the goddamn wallet!" The man pushed Dawson back against the wall of the bank and snatched the money that had appeared in the slot of the ATM. He was tall and slim, well muscled and unshaven, and looked like he hadn't slept in a week. His eyes were a dirty brown, cold and hard. Just looking at them made Dawson's legs turn to water. He looked frantically up and down the street, desperately looking for help. How could it be this deserted, even at quarter to three in the morning? Where were the goddamn night owls that normally hung around the night clubs? Where were the goddamn cops?
         The gun barrel moved and cracked him hard across the jaw. "Give me your wallet! F*cking NOW!" He held it out, his hand shaking badly, trying hard not to wet himself, praying for the man to just take the thing and leave him alone. The man snatched it out of his grasp and then jerked his head in the direction of the parking lot. "That your car?"
        Dawson gaped mutely. Oh god, not my car! "N….n…n-no."
        The gun barrel smashed into his temple, driving him to his knees. "You f*cking liar! I saw you drive up you  piece of sh*t! Gimme your keys!"
        "No please! My mother -"
        The man wasn't interested in Dawson's mother. He drove his steel-capped motorcycle boot into Dawson's gut and as he fell to his knees, retching and gasping, he brought the butt of the pistol down on the top of his head. The crunch of steel against scalp was impressive, even over the howling wind. Dawson went down like a sack of gravel. The man glanced up and down the street - completely deserted - then bent and quickly went through Dawson's pockets, taking his keys and giving him another kick for good measure. He stood up, ignoring the thick trail of blood flowing from Dawson's head - the possibility that he just might have committed manslaughter was of no interest to him; all that mattered was meeting his doctor on the corner of Seventh and Mill. For his medicine.
        He had been running in a gang since he was fourteen, had been locked up for two years for an assault that had put two people on the critical list, and he had killed at least five people that he knew of during his many turf fights, but when he turned around he still embarrassed himself by giving a little shriek. He couldn't help it. A demon stood before him. Or, to be really precise, a demoness. She stood not six feet away, and how she had gotten there, from an empty street and w/out him hearing her, was a mystery he would never figure out. She stood maybe an inch or two smaller than him, but her body was the body of an expert martial artist or gymnast, all beautifully toned muscle and not a gram of excess fat. He could tell that because she was only wearing a bikini and a waist sash for Christ's sake. A black leather bikini, and thigh high boots, and elbow length gloves. He might have thought that she was a member of the S&M club a block over, what w/ her skull-shaped shoulder armour and all, if it wasn't for the fact that she had horns on her head. And wings. Those horns could have been glued on, but those wings…well, maybe they could have been some sort of fake costume type thing, but even if they were, there was her red skin to consider. And her eyes. Oh dear sweet Jesus, her eyes. They were white, shining like a full moon but giving off no light. And they were cold, colder than the night.
        Cold. And hungry.
        A brief thought rocketed through his mind : the brief possibility - the brief hope - that this was some sort of hallucination brought on by his craving for another fix, but one look into those eyes convinced him otherwise. He raised his gun and plugged three bullets into her. Or would have done, if she had still been standing there. Some time between levelling the Glock at her and squeezing the trigger she moved from six feet in front of him to right next to his left side, and he never even saw her do it. His arm had been snapped before the first shell casing clinked onto the pavement and he had a moment of awed wonder, even through the drug haze and the terror, to realise that this slender creature had lifted him up w/ one hand, and then he was thrown through the air and slammed into a lamp post, snapping his spine in two. He flopped onto the ground like a discarded rag and squealed wordlessly as she straddled him, sitting on his chest and grinding his broken vertebrae together, then she pushed his head back and he felt her teeth open up his throat. Black shapes danced around the circle of yellow light above him, light that framed her like a halo as she straightened up and spat some of his blood into his face.
        "Gaahhh! What manner of pathetic ape puts poison into his own veins?" Her voice was sweet music and he found himself opening his mouth to try and explain his habit, how he had started off  trying to be cool w/ the other members of the gang, how he had suddenly found himself needing more and more and telling himself that he wouldn't die on his own puke the way Cheryl had, or waste away from a dirty needle like Zack had, as though some explanation might give him salvation, but the words leaked out of the hole in his neck before he could say them. She didn't seem to be interested anyway. Those eyes, those beautiful cold eyes, shone contemptuously down at him. "Maggot. You don't deserve the peace death would give you. Luckily for you, however -" she smiled, and the sight of those long sharp teeth filled him w/ a sweet boiling terror "- I'm thirsty."
        They were the last words he heard.
        Purgatori stood up wiped the blood from her lips, grimacing in displeasure. Human blood was thin and tasteless at the best of times, but when it was mixed w/ whatever chemicals this germ had seen fit to put inside himself it was downright unpleasant. The meal had been unsatisfying and worthless. It was like giving a man desperate for a glass of vintage champagne a teaspoonful of tepid tap water. She was still hungry. She was angry, angry that she still had to find food, angry that she was here in this rotten city - on this despicable planet - angry that she was being distracted by some indefinable feeling that nibbled at the very edges of her perception, leaving her w/ a feeling that somebody was watching her.
        The wind gusted around her, driving the sleet hard against her bare skin, whipping her long hair into her face, and she spat a loud curse at that whore who had banished her here. She hated Purgatori, and had wanted to punish her for everything Purgatori had done to her. She could have plunged her sword into Purgatori's chest and pierced her heart, or could have taken her head w/ one easy swipe, but oh no, that miserable little cow had thrown her though a portal to the Nexus, that mysterious ethereal doorway that linked all places and all times, and by luck or design Purgatori had ended up in the very place she would have gladly exchanged death for. Once. But not any more. That deep suffocating suicidal depression that had engulfed her for the first few weeks of her imprisonment here - for imprisonment was exactly what it was; she had lost her teleportation ability along w/ her resistance to sunlight and her shapeshifting powers and Horus knew what other talents she had once possessed - had gone now, and she had been running on high-octane hate ever since. Hate, and a burning desire to pay back the bitch who had sent her here.
        She jumped into the air w/ one smooth push of her legs and her wings took over, beating strongly and lifting her quickly and easily into the safe darkness above the streetlights. She soared, criss-crossing streets and parks, looking for loners. It seemed to be getting harder each night, another fact that added to her anger. She was soaked. She was freezing cold. She was dirty. She was hungry. She was weak.
        She was lonely.
        As usual. She would have thought, after almost four millennia, that she would have been used to being alone and being lonely, but no matter how often she told herself it didn't bother her she didn't seem to be able to convince herself. All she had ever wanted was someone to love her, and four thousand years ago it seemed that her dream had come true. But that dream had lasted only a brief year, an eye-blink in Purgatori's life span, and then she had been betrayed, spurned, cast aside and almost murdered for the selfish whim of her lover.
        And now, after all these years, it still hurt her.
        She dove down towards the road angrily, trying to let the joy of flying take away the sting of pain that was growing inside her, but even that, one of her purest joys, brought no pleasure this night. The sleet and wind disturbed her normally smooth gliding, the beautiful stars - usually blurred and obscured even on a good night by the smoke and dirt that these cattle saw fit to pump into the air every second of every hour - were gone, hidden by the bulky cumulo nimbus clouds that were stacked up over the grimy city. And anyway, she had more -
        Something like a  bright chromium blade slammed into her mind, jamming into her brain and twisting. Purgatori howled in agony and clutched her head, all coherent thought gone. Her wings folded and she plummeted like a shot eagle, but she wasn't even aware of that until it was nearly too late. The clenching of her stomach finally fought its way into her mind and she twisted instinctively, getting her feet underneath her and flaring her wings like an airbrake. It was too little too late. She hit the wet tarmac hard, twisting her ankles, falling to her knees and then onto her face, lacerating her cheek. Blood flowed from her lip and eyebrow. She struggled to her hands and knees and suddenly the whole world bleached white as scalding bright light flooded over her. A deafening cacophony of noises - the loud blast of a car horn, the roar of a big engine, the scream of rubber on tarmac - pierced her ears and she jerked around to see the vehicle a half-second before it hit her.
        It was a Toyota Land Cruiser. It was huge, and heavy, and it hit her hard. Cold wet metal slammed into her body and head and smashed her across the road. It could have just as easily dragged her under and pulped her beneath the wide tyres, but Purgatori was in no condition to count her blessings. Most of the left side of her body was shattered and her wings were broken as she tumbled across the rough tarmac, stripping yards of skin off her body.
        She lay inert, fetched up against the kerbstone, face down in the filthy slush. She didn't hear the rending crash of metal and glass as the Toyota hit a lamp post. The mangled body of the driver punched halfway through the windscreen, slid back twitching into the cockpit. The horn blared incessantly, and gradually the irritating noise burrowed into Purgatori's mind and dragged her up from the black depths. Pain. All over. Her head felt as if it was in a vice. A vice w/ spiked steel jaws. She rolled over and yowled miserably as all the sharp ends of her broken bones shifted inside her. She couldn't move her legs. Panic scuttled over her like a large spider and she pushed herself into a sitting position. Bones stuck out of her left forearm and thigh. She looked at them dully for a moment then realised what she was seeing and that large arachnid was joined by lots of its friends.
         NO! Concentrate! Use your magick!
        Easier said than done. The pain in her head was horrendous, the panic persistent, but she finally managed to clear her mind enough to work her sorcery. The force of her will meshed neatly w/ the now vastly depleted power w/in her, and her bones retreated inside her skin, the flesh sealing over them flawlessly. Something grated in her skull and another searing blast of pain made her fall backwards.
        Noise. That horn, blaring away maddeningly. And sirens. Far off, but getting closer. She opened her eyes and saw the clouds above her, out of reach. Move Purgatori. If anybody sees you, you'll be in trouble. Move. She wiggled a foot, and felt it move. Good. But not good enough. She appeared to have expended her healing powers, and she was still far from repaired. Time and rest would recharge her power - that, or more blood - but time she didn't have, and rest was not an option. She rolled onto her stomach and fought her way to all fours, then to her feet, and stood swaying drunkenly by the pavement, holding onto a newspaper vending machine for support. The world spun around her, making her queasy. She hung her head, trying to clear her vision, and stinging blood flowed down her face into her eyes.  When she looked up again, the world was still blurred, but at least it had stopped gyrating. The sirens were closer now, maybe only three or four blocks away. She stood helplessly, completely at a loss as to what to do. She needed shelter, a place to hole-up and heal, to hide from the sun, but the place she had been staying in - an abandoned and derelict steel factory on the outskirts of town - was miles away, and one of her wings still dragged limply on the ground.
        She scanned her surroundings, wiping the blood and sleet from her face to try and focus on the signs and buildings around her. They all seemed as though they were still in use or still occupied. There was a drug store, empty and locked up but w/ the interior lit up probably to discourage theft. The majority of the right hand side of the road was a parking lot, sparsely populated w/ vehicles, and fortunately devoid of patrons. On this side was a café at the corner of the junction, and a tall ornate building that appeared to be a museum of some sort. The building across from her - what was that?
        She limped across the road, no longer having the luxury of caring whether or not anyone saw her. It was a squat, one storey building, fairly grimy. A square of paintwork stood out fresher than the rest, suggesting that some sort of notice had recently been removed, but the door was still chained and padlocked, and the window glass - where they weren't plastered over w/ fly posters -  were almost opaque w/ dirt. There. It had to be there. She made it across the road, the exertion making the tarmac feel like she was walking on a trampoline again, and then managed to slip into the narrow filthy alley that ran between the building and the public rest rooms next door. She crashed into a pair of steel dustbins and they clattered over w/ enough noise to raise the dead. Something large and furry leapt onto the top of the pile of cardboard boxes next to her and tried to streak past her out of the alley. She snatched the cat up, rather surprised her reactions and co-ordination were still working that well, and tore its throat open and drained it w/ one sucking gulp. Horrible, fetid blood, but blood was blood and blood gave energy. She took what she could get gratefully.
        More shrieking rubber, and the street outside the alley was filled w/ strobing red and blue light. She ducked further back into the gloom of the alley, and saw a small window, barely three feet square, at head height, boarded over w/ a sheet of rough pine. She punched the board in - it had been affixed from the inside - and wriggled her way gracelessly inside. Her wings snagged on the frame, she squeezed them through painfully, and then she was through, falling clumsily to the floor in the pitch blackness. She landed on something soft that cushioned her fall - it felt like a huge pile of plastic sheeting - and for a long time she just lay there, shaking w/ the pain and exertion and cold, wondering if those police men outside would come looking for her. Had they seen her? Had they heard the bins fall? They cut the sirens, and then a short while later someone mercifully managed to stop that damnable horn. Voices in the street, engines and the faint sound of radio traffic. One of the vehicles moved off at speed, and she supposed it was a medical vehicle removing the driver of the car. Finally, she allowed herself to relax a bit - it was obvious that no-one was looking for her. She tried to find a comfortable position to lie in, but all she could do was find one that hurt less than the others.
        So - just what in Hell had happened tonight? That horrendous jolt of pain had felt like a form of psychic attack, but as far as she knew there were no vampires around w/ that sort of power - there were minor vampires of course, every city had them, and a couple of older ones too, but even the strongest she had come across was far weaker than she was even in her depleted state. Besides which, she had been careful - no-one should have even known she was here. Unless that whore who had sent her here had tipped somebody off, just to spice things up a bit….
        Thick lethargy stole over her. She didn't care if anyone knew, and right now - right at this very moment in time - if somebody walked in w/ the intention of killing her she might well have gratefully given them advice on how best to do it. Almost her entire body cried out w/ pain. Her head pounded hard enough to make tiny bright lights pulse across her vision. She dragged the matted hair out of her face, and her fingers brushed the horn on the left side of her forehead and found it had been broken off halfway down. She was drenched to the skin, and those parts of her body that weren't filling her brain w/ screaming agony messages were numbed by the paralysing cold that had settled down to her bones. She was spent, absolutely exhausted. She could do w/out sleep if she needed to, there had been periods of centuries when she had done so,  but now it offered a brief respite from the pain. She would sleep and leave her body to get on w/ the act of repairing itself while her magick slowly recharged and maybe when she awoke she would be able to figure out what had happened to her.
        What if somebody comes? What if the owner of this building returns? She looked into the blackness, her night vision picking out nothing but a small rectangular room w/ a tiny table and the pile of crumpled up plastic sheeting she had fallen on, and discovered she didn't care.
        Purgatori closed her eyes and lay shaking in the dark, curled up in a foetal position. There was no-one here to hug her to keep her warm as she fell quickly into a deep slumber so she hugged herself, trying to push away the memories of long ago, when she had done the same to keep warm during the frigid Egyptian nights.

Egypt, 1386 BC
         Sakkara winced as the guard unlocked her shackles and roughly removed the cuffs from her neck and wrists. Another day over. Another interminable fourteen hour day over. She headed wearily for the small cart where a barrel of water was kept for the slaves to wash themselves, rubbing gingerly at the raw patches on her skin where the metal bonds had chafed her. She cupped her hands into the water and splashed her face, and after fourteen hours under the broiling desert sun the cool liquid felt like a kiss from Isis herself. She dipped her hands in again, and suddenly a hard shove made her stumble and fall, splashing the handful of water over the sand floor which drank it greedily.
         "Out of the way Whiteskin."
         Iras. Of course. Even among slaves there were groups and outcasts. Iras was an uppity bitch who didn't seem to realise she was a slave, and she had made herself a nice little gang of slaves who wanted to be her friends, mainly because they were scared not to be. She was a tough bitch and somehow seemed to be on friendly terms w/ some of the guards despite the social stigma that was attached to fraternising w/ the slave caste. Most of the slaves thought it was because she whored herself to them, but nobody dared say it. More than once she had had a disagreement w/ some other poor slave girl, and magically some time the next day that poor girl would find herself getting a good whipping from the guards. And on more than one occasion, that girl had been Sakkara. Iras had taken an instant disliking to Sakkara, a reaction that she would become dismally familiar w/ over the course of her long existence, and because she had, most of the other slaves were at great pains to do the same, just to stay on her good side.
         Sakkara glared up at Iras and her three friends. She was perhaps the only slavegirl who would openly defy Iras, and they had come to blows on more than one occasion, but right now Sakkara was exhausted, sore, and the only thing an argument would get her was in trouble. Sakkara was frightened of neither Iras or her relationship w/ the guards, but nor was she stupid. There was a time to pick a fight, and a time to remain prudently silent and let some insect think she had won a little victory : now was the latter.
         "Stay down there. You belong on the floor, Whiteskin." Her friends laughed dutifully. Whiteskin was a name Iras had come up w/, and it was supposed to be an insult. Sakkara wasn't white, but her skin was far paler than all the other Egyptian girls, and her eyes were a piercing sapphire. She knew nothing of her parents, had no recollections of anything other than being out in the sun working at some chore or other right from the time she could walk, and sometimes she would lie awake at night or let her mind drift while she was working, wondering about her lineage, wondering where her parents were, who they were and why they weren't around to look after her. Were they dead, or had they abandoned her or sold her? She suspected one or both of them was not Egyptian due to her skin colour - maybe one of them had been Roman, like those white, beautifully dressed visitors who turned up at the palace every so often. It depressed her to think those thoughts, but she couldn't help herself. She was all alone and a virtual outcast through no fault of her own. Nobody had ever offered any explanation as to why she was different, and never having been given the use of a mirror she couldn't understand why some of the girls made fun of her and insulted her. She hadn't even known about her eye colour and the obvious differences in her facial structure until her mid-teens when she had caught a glimpse of her reflection in a polished silver serving platter when she had been working in the Pharaoh's kitchen. She had stopped, entranced at the image of a beautiful raven-haired girl she had never seen before. That pause had been noticed and had earned her a severe caning, but she had lain in the tent that night and considered the pain a worthwhile price to pay for the revelation. She knew she was beautiful, and she knew Iras thought so too - it was blatant from the way she had desperately tried to think up some derogatory comment when they had first crossed paths and had been unable to keep the jealous tone from her voice. Sakkara knew then that she was burdened w/ something that would make her enemies w/ other insecure girls, but at the same time it gave her a certain power over them as well : no matter how much they professed to hate her or find her ugly they would be jealous, and that gave Sakkara a little bit of strength to endure the insults.
         She stood up, brushing the sand off her body and walked away w/out saying anything, managing to elbow Iras in the ribs as she went. Not hard, but good enough to get the point across : not scared of you bitch, you're just not worth the effort tonight. It was a move that would have painful repercussions later that night.
         She made her way across to the kitchen tent, where she picked up a scant meal of bread and corn and water and sat down far from the other slaves, to prevent anyone accidentally tripping her up or knocking the bowl out of her hands like they had many times before. Iras came in and she and her friends sat in a circle at the far side of the tent, talking low and casting looks in Sakkara's direction. Planning something. Sakkara ignored them and watched the fat red orb of the sun drop rapidly behind the pyramids. Night fell quickly, and a strong wind was beginning to ripple the sides of the tent. It was cool already, and would get colder in a hurry.
        She finished her meal quickly, barely half-satisfying her hunger and sat quietly, trying not to rub at her tingling skin. Even after all these years her skin still burned in the sun. She never tanned like the others; she just turned an angry tender red during the day, and at night the flush would die away so that the whole cycle could start again the next morning. She hoped that they would move her back inside sometime, maybe back to the kitchens or the clothing quarters. The new Queen was a fanatic for fine clothes and the rumours were that she had an entire chamber full of every colour of silk and satin and cotton imaginable, and rolls and rolls of fur from every creature that had ever walked the Earth, and she would spend hours w/ her servants, picking, choosing, designing, trying on. Sakkara thought that she could probably put up w/ that sort of job.
         The guards came in and moved them on to the sleeping tent. It was black outside now, every last trace of dusk gone. The constellations shone as bright as lamps above them, magnified by the cold clear desert air. Her skin goose-bumped and she ducked into the tent, grateful to have a fabric barrier between her and the wind. She crossed by the faint light of a couple of flickering torches and when she reached her sleeping place she bared her teeth in a snarl.
         "Where's my blanket, scum?"
         Iras looked up from her area of the floor w/ a big mocking innocent expression on her face. "Are you talking to me? Why would I want your lice-ridden rag?"
         "Because your fleas are getting lonely bitch. Give me it back. Now."
         The other girls were sitting up in bed now - if you could call a reed-mat on an  area of sand and a blanket a bed - w/ that anxious and eager anticipation that always preceded a fight.
         Iras's eyes flashed. "Go and annoy someone else, Whiteskin. These are my blankets. Aren't they?" She looked over at one of her friends who looked shocked at having been put on the spot. The girl looked helplessly at Iras, looked over at Sakkara, then dropped her eyes and mumbled something unintelligible at the ground. Iras didn't look best pleased at the performance.
         Sakkara walked across and stood over Iras and something in her expression made Iras lick her lips. "I'm not going to ask you again, dung heap. Give me my blanket or I'll tear your - "
        "Just what are you girls doing?"
        They both turned at the gruff voice and Sakkara felt her heart sink. It was Grypus, one of Iras's alleged bedfellows, and she had the nasty feeling that she had just been set up. He stood glaring at them, tapping his inch-thick bamboo cane against his calf and not looking happy at having the normal night-time ritual disturbed.
        "Iras has taken my blanket," Sakkara said resignedly. If this was going to go wrong, she might as well get it over w/ quickly.
        "Is that right?" Grypus said. He looked down at Iras and took stock of her bedding. "Slaves are only allowed one blanket. What are you doing w/ two?"
        Iras blinked in surprise. "I….it-it's mine. Both of them."
        "Really." Grypus reached down and plucked one of the blankets off her body. "Is this yours?" he asked Sakkara.
        "Yes," she replied, somewhat taken aback. Maybe Grypus wasn't so bad after all.
        "How do you know?"
        "I - what?"
        "I don't see your name on it anywhere. How do you know this is yours?"
        So that was the joke. String her along and then dump it on her just when she thought she had won. Sakkara bit back a curse and hoped the tears didn't show in her eyes.
        "I asked you a question."
        "She has two blankets! I don't have one any more!"
        Grypus sighed. "I don't think that's what I asked. I asked you how you knew this was yours. They all look alike to me."
        Sakkara wilted, resigning herself to whatever they had planned for her. "I don't."
        Grypus dropped the blanket back on top of Iras. "I don't have time for this stupidity girl, and I don't like brats who lie and make trouble for other people. Turn around and bend over."
        Sakkara did so helplessly, and Grypus caned her hard in front of everybody. She tried not to cry, but that was obviously one of his objectives and he kept on lashing her backside and legs until she couldn't help herself. During the next few days she would mentally kick herself for not realising sooner and saving herself a lot of bruises.
        He gave her a few more, just to get the point across then stood back, no doubt admiring his handiwork. "Get to sleep brat. Next time you make accusations you better be able to substantiate them. I won't be as lenient next time."
        Sakkara stumbled back to her floor space and curled up on the floor, sobbing quietly. If she made too much noise it would just give him an excuse to come back.
        Faintly, very faintly, she heard Iras sniggering. "Look at her, snivelling like a baby!" Sakkara rolled over, wiping the tears from her face and locked eyes w/ her. From where she was lying, her wet eyes reflected the solitary torch flame and it appeared as though her eyes were made of polished gold. Iras looked into them and found her mouth was dry. She swallowed, trying not to betray the nagging worry she felt. "Did you enjoy that, Whiteskin? I did. I hope you enjoyed it, because I've got a lot more lined up for you."
        Sakkara just held her gaze, not blinking.
        And then she smiled.
        Iras's skin tightened on her bones and she trembled, despite her two blankets. Sakkara regarded her a second longer w/ those strange blank golden eyes, then she rolled over again and settled down to sleep, shivering slightly.
        Iras got no sleep that night. She was afraid that if she took her eyes off Sakkara for even the briefest time she would come over and kill her in her sleep.

San Francisco
         Warm. She was warm. She shuffled around slightly, stretching her muscles briefly then curling back into a snug ball. Mmmm, this was so comfortable. The sand floor was firmer than she remembered, and strangely flat, but she was warm for the first time in weeks, and she had her blanket back, she must have gotten it back at some time -
         Purgatori's eyes flew open. This wasn't Egypt! She lay motionless, not wanting to alert anyone to her consciousness. Nothing moved in the building, and the only sound she could hear was the somnolent blowing of some artificial breeze machine. What was going on? Was she in danger? She inspected herself, letting her senses flow over her body. The migraine was gone, and her wings felt mended. Everything seemed to be repaired, but her muscles thrummed like straining crane cables and she was tired, so totally exhausted she felt as though she could just close her eyes and sleep for a week. That was a dangerous sign, though, and she knew it. If she did fall into that sort of a deep sleep again, there was a fair chance she wouldn't wake up. And she was hungry, ravenously hungry. Her body had used every last scrap of food to mend itself and was still wanting. If her anonymous assailant was in the building w/ her she would be completely at their mercy. But if they were here, why had they covered her up to keep her warm?
         There was no ready answer to that one, so she just sat up, moving quickly and smoothly to disguise her weakness, trying not to flinch as her muscles in her back and shoulders cramped at the sudden movement. The heavy leather jacket that had been draped over her flumped into her lap.
         There was a man watching her, sitting in a calm kneeling position about ten feet away, his hands resting lightly on his thighs. He was well muscled and his hair was the same jet black as Purgatori's, falling past his shoulders w/ a pencil-slim braid hanging behind each ear. He was wearing black jeans, and a black T-shirt that clung snugly to his torso and exposed the exquisite tattoos that covered the whole of his right arm. His eyes were reddened, and dark smudges surrounded them. And he had a long sword in a scabbard by his side.
         Purgatori eyed him up, assessing his threat-potential. That sword concerned her, but the look in his eyes…he looked as though he was looking at a mountain of diamonds.
         He moved and Purgatori tensed, determined not to underestimate him, but he was just offering his empty hands to her, palm up. "I mean you no harm."
         She started, and just looked back at him. His words seemed corny and false, but there was no doubting the sincerity in his tone. But she didn't know him, and therefore she didn't trust him.
         "Can you understand me?" His voice was low and calm, as though he was talking to an old friend instead of a winged vampire that had suddenly appeared in his building.
         "Yes."
         He looked surprised, as though he hadn't really expected a creature as strange as her to speak his language. He smiled and moved closer to her, moving on his knees the way she had seen samurai warriors move. There was a fluttering snicker of steel and she saw he suddenly had a knife in one had, a gleaming silver Balisong. She backed off w/ a hiss and found herself up against a wall w/ nowhere to go. She raised a hand, flexed her tendons and her razor sharp nails slid out an extra inch.
         "Shhh." He moved closer again, apparently unconcerned w/ her talons. If he had seen what they could do, he might have been a bit more cautious. "Here. Drink." And suddenly he moved the blade to his own forearm and sliced the skin open deeply. Another slick silver swirl and the blade disappeared. He looked at her and offered the limb.
         Purgatori couldn't help herself. She caught the smell of hot fresh blood, grabbed his arm and yanked it to her lips, gulping at the gorgeous sweet liquid.
         That was how she met Glenn Wolf.

         She didn't know how much she drank, but when he finally pulled the arm away from her and clamped his palm over the wound he was noticeably paler and had a thin sheen of sweat on his face. He stood up slowly, swaying slightly, and disappeared through the door into another room. Purgatori tilted her head back and let the last drop slide down her throat, relishing the taste. She could feel her body reacting already, could feel the strength building in her slowly but steadily. It would take a lot more blood to get her anywhere near the state she would like to be in, but it was a start, a thousand times better than she had been last night.
         She looked around, taking in the details of the room now that the lights were on. There was very little of interest to see. She was in a small square room that appeared to have been an office at some time and now appeared to be a temporary store room. The huge wad of plastic sheeting she had fallen on was the thick transparent type that was used by shipping companies to cover large consignments. There were a couple of posters tacked to the wall. Two showed Oriental martial artists and another showed a series of  hand drawn images of a figure demonstrating a nunchaku kata. There was a large cardboard box on the table, and she was fairly sure that it hadn't been there when she had fallen asleep.
        The room that the man had vanished into was unlit, but from the light that fell into it from her room she could tell that it was large and empty. There was a cylindrical machine of some sort facing the doorway : it made a soft sighing sound and projected warm air towards her. She closed her eyes in bliss, holding her hands out towards the heat and unfolding her wings slightly to catch the warmth. Delicious. In the weeks since she had arrived in this godforsaken place, she had been warm for approximately ten minutes : she had found a lone person on a building site standing by a fire in an oil-drum brazier. She had taken him and then stood as close to the flames as possible. She had heard more people heading towards her and had reluctantly left the place, taking the body w/ her and dumping it in some obscure place on her wanders. The first rule of vampire survival was not to draw attention to your presence, and that meant being selective w/ your kills and not leaving incriminating evidence behind. Before and since that time she had been dirty, bitterly cold and mostly wet : the filthy rat-infested cellar she had moved into in the steel factory kept the rain and sun off her and most of the wind, but it didn't keep her warm by any stretch of the imagination. It would have to do until she regained some of her powers -  a laboriously slow task w/ this watery, power-thin human blood - but it was absolutely detestable, and unfortunately the best she could come up w/. Being a vampire had both its advantages and disadvantages in these conditions. A human would have had the common decency to die of hypothermia a long time ago, but she had the strength and constitution to stay alive. A human could have wandered warm shops or libraries during the day, or even just stood in the watery sunlight to try and get some warmth. A vampire didn't contract influenza or lung infections from sitting in a sub-zero pit wearing only a bikini, but she had to endure frost forming on her cool skin, and deep cramping chills that almost froze her muscles solid, forcing her to spend much time flexing and loosening up before she could go hunting. Still, she supposed, if she had appeared through the Nexus in the middle of summer she might have arrived in bright sunlight, and her arrival would have turned into a fair impersonation of a meteorite. How many hours had she spent there after her hunts, huddled away from the sun and prying eyes, cold and wet and dirty, the only warmth coming from the raging flames of hate inside her? The days were short at this time of year, the sun mercifully brief in its visits, but human activity was almost constant, leaving her an unsettlingly short time each day w/ which to hunt, much less look for a better place to stay. That left her w/ an interminably long time to huddle in the cellar amongst the damp peeling plaster and the mould growths, wet and miserable and cold, unable to even start a fire for fear of drawing attention to herself and her hiding place. She had no books to read, nobody to talk to, no television to watch, nothing to write or draw w/ - she had  nothing to occupy her mind and take her attention away from her predicament, her torture. All she had was a lot of time, a lot of time to gaze blankly at the squalid cell and build a glowing fire of hate w/in her. Hate at the slut who had sentenced her to this purgatory. Hate at being reduced to this, a goddess who had been used to living in opulence now squatting in filthy ruins, scratching for insubstantial meals. Hate at the embarrassment of living like some sort of vermin. Hate for the humans around her, who would no doubt blindly panic and attack her if they became aware of her presence, instead of revering her and worshipping her the way they ought to.
        Warm again. Dry. Because of a human.
        He came back into the room, a tight band of bright white bandage covering the wound, and knelt down before her again, his eyes cool and grey and watchful. They flicked over her body, something she was well used to, but for once there was no lust behind the inspection. "Do you feel better?"
        "Yes."
        "You look better. Your horn has regrown," he observed casually.
        She ran her fingers over it as if to confirm, and returned his appraising glance. Yes, he was a fighter, a martial artist of some sort, and obviously a good one judging from the way he handled his weapons and moved - when he had walked in and knelt down it had seemed to be one smooth fluid movement, w/ absolutely no wasted energy. If she had been back to her normal strength, the strength she had been left w/ when she arrived here that is, she felt she could beat him easily in a fight, despite his abilities and muscles, but now she thought that even if she could beat him he would inflict serious damage on her in the process. But would she need to fight him? Who was he? Why was he looking after her? "How did you know?" she asked.
        "Know what?"
        "That I needed blood?" Purgatori said testily, as though the question had been obvious. Distrust glowed in her eyes. "Did somebody tell you about me?"
        "I saw your teeth when you were talking in your sleep. I -"
        "I what?"
        "You were talking in your sleep."
        She paused to consider this. "What did I say?" she said warily. Had she given away any dangerous information?
        "I don't know. You were speaking in what sounded like Arabic."
        "Egyptian."
        "Egyptian," he repeated thoughtfully. "Is that where you were…born? You don't look Egyptian."
        Purgatori just looked at him, not willing to tell this mysterious person anything that he might be able to use against her.
        He waited for a moment, then continued when it became obvious he wasn't going to get a reply. If he felt any irritation at being ignored he didn't show it. "I saw your teeth. I know that didn't necessarily mean anything, but then when I was watching you yesterday morning the sun shone on you and you started to smoke."
        Purgatori looked around and saw that the window she had knocked out had been boarded up w/ another piece of wood. It had been screwed into place, maybe because he didn't want to wake her up w/ the noise of hammering. Something jabbed at her. "‘Yesterday'?" she asked. "What time is it? What day is it?"
        "It's Friday. Just - " he checked his watch briefly " - turned half-past nine at night. I found you at ten to seven on Thursday morning. You've been asleep since."
        She absorbed that piece of information wonderingly. That meant that she had been asleep and vulnerable for over forty hours. Worrying. "You've been here since then?"
        "Yes."
        "Why?" she asked rudely. She didn't care.
        He appraised her again. "I wanted to make sure you were all right," he said finally.
        "Why?" she asked again. "Who are you? What is your interest in me?"
        Something - maybe anger, maybe irritation - flickered across his eyes. "My name is Glenn Wolf. I own this building. You don't have to worry about me, I - "
        "Did I say I was worried?" Purgatori snapped. "Do I look scared to you?"
        Again that pause. Now, even his lack of anger began to annoy Purgatori. "No you don't. I just mean that I'm not here to harm you."
        "How reassuring."
        "Yes. What can I call you?" She just looked at him again, and he sighed. "All right. Food. Do you need anything to eat? Do you need more blood?"
        "Lots more. But not right now. I'll get something later." And it might be yours.
        "You're dirty. There's a shower in the other room if you want to wash."
        Wash. What a fabulous concept. She hadn't washed since her arrival, a fact that deeply offended her. She couldn't even stand in the rain to clean herself : it came from the sky thick w/ the dirt and pollution that these disgusting humans spewed from their factories, and besides which, at this time of year the rain was savagely cold. "Yes."
        He lead her through the big room to another smaller room w/ a symbol of a woman on the door. "Water might take minute to warm up," he said in his quiet voice. "The hairdryer's on the wall there." She looked at the object, having no idea what it was. "I'll get you a towel." He left and came back w/ a big blue-and-white striped bath towel, a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo, then w/ one last quick glance he left her.
        She watched him go. He hadn't tried to take advantage of her, or made any attempts to see her naked, something else she had become sickeningly familiar w/ over the years. I looked after you when you were hurt. I think you owe me something in return... How many times had some maggot tried a similar line on her? Was she actually irritated that he hadn't expressed an interest in her? Men were not her preferred choice, but she had grown to appreciate the hold she had over both sexes w/ her beauty, the obedience she could command if they thought there was a chance of having sex w/ her. She shrugged to herself and opened the door to the cramped shower cubicle. The water came on strong, and cold as he had thought. She stripped off and stood looking in the mirror as she let it warm up, half admiring, half disgusted. She was filthy, and no doubt she smelled badly too. Her hair hung in stringy rat-tails, tangled and matted. No wonder he wasn't interested in me, she thought ruefully. Steam began to flow out of the cubicle door and she stepped in eagerly, and just standing under the hot clear stream was an exquisite pleasure. She stood for long minutes, letting the water pummel her gently, soaking heat back into her muscles, and then she worked the soap into a thick lather and cleaned herself thoroughly, twice. She cleaned her hair three times and then stood again under the water, letting it hit her full in the face. It felt so good, she felt she could just stand like this for days.
        Eventually she turned the water off and used the towel to dry herself off. The towel was thick and soft and she found her mind drifting off to long gone days when several gorgeous young girls would fight for the privilege of bathing and drying her. She pushed the memories away, hating them. It wasn't that they were bad memories - they were good memories that hurt, and that was worse, somehow. She straightened her hair, combing it w/ her talons, and found out how to work the thing called the hairdryer. A useful invention, she reflected, but it would never be her first choice over some nubile blonde w/ a towel.
        She stood in front of the mirror again and this time she saw herself smiling w/ pure admiration. Yes, she was still as stunning as ever. She pulled on her clothes and went back out into the main room. Glenn was in there, doing some sort of practice exercises in front of a mirror. He saw her coming and turned around. He didn't make any comment, just smiled, but that smile said more than any words could and Purgatori felt a little flush of pleasure, the same flush she got whenever she knew somebody was admiring her body.
        "Feel better?"
        "Much."
        "How do you do that w/ your clothes?"
        "What?"
        "Your boots were scuffed and torn last night, and most of your left glove was shredded. They're good as new now. And clean."
        She eyed him up, feeling the distrust flood her again. "Spells," she said shortly. What the Hell, if he knew she could do magick - proper sorcery, not the puerile illusions that humans liked to call magic - it might make him a bit more wary of her.
        He considered this for a while, then just nodded. "I'm going out for a while -"
        "Where?" she snapped suspiciously.
        "To get some food."
        "No."
        That flicker in his eyes again. "I haven't eaten since I found you," he said calmly. Whatever he was thinking didn't make it through into his tone.
        "I don't care. How do I know you're not going to go to some of my enemies?"
        "I don't even know who you are. How would I know your enemies?"
        "My description would be enough. How many winged women are there in this hateful city?"
        "If I was going to do that, wouldn't I have done it while you were asleep?"
        "Maybe you did," Purgatori snarled angrily. "Maybe you put the word out about my presence and you're going to bring them to me now."
        He looked at her for a long time then shrugged slightly. "Fine. I'll stay." And w/ that he turned back to the mirror and began to go through his Tai-Chi exercises again.
        "Don't turn your back on me!" Purgatori spat. His flat refusal to treat her w/ awe was making her bristle w/ fury, and yet some tiny voice inside her told her that of course he couldn't treat her w/ awe if he didn't know who she was. She stamped that voice out.
        Glenn turned back to her, his eyes unblinking and hard. "What's your problem?" he asked in a neutral voice.
        Purgatori went berserk. "What's my problem?!" she shrieked. "I'm stuck on this dung-heap of a planet as weak as a child! Some slut has robbed me of my power and I have to feed on you talking apes like some lowly parasite, I've been living in the filth and the cold and the rain since I came here, I've got no allies to aid me, I'm unarmed and alone and weak and hungry and you stand there AND ASK ME WHAT MY PROBLEM IS!!!" She crossed the distance to him in a microsecond, gratified to see him flinch back before she took a handful of his T-shirt and shoved him back against the mirror as if he was nothing more than a big rag-doll. Her talons were extended and it was all she could do to stop from sinking them into his neck. Her eyes were blazing like searchlights. "Nobody has ever done anything for me w/out wanting something in return or using me for their own purposes! Even my one true lover tried to have me murdered and you stand there and tell me I should trust you w/ my life! You must think I'm pathetically naive! How dare you see fit to tell me who I can and can't trust! If you knew the first thing about betrayal you would know how stupid your question is! You're not getting out of my sight until I deem that it is safe for you to do so, and if I even think you're the least little threat to my existence I'll tear your heart from your chest and make you eat it is that clear?"
        Glenn Wolf stood dead still, her claws flexed an inch from his face. His eyes were still locked on hers, unblinking. "Yes," he said. She could hear a tremor in his voice. "That's clear."
        "Good. Get out of my sight while I consider whether or not to kill you."
        He edged away and she saw him shaking. Look at him, he's terrified. Good. He'll know not to mess w/ me now. She watched him turn and go into the small room she had woken up in and another thought occurred to her. Maybe being terrified wasn't good after all : maybe he would be so scared of her threats that he might think it would just be better to try kill her. And weak as she was, he might just be able to do it. Her eyes narrowed as she gazed at the empty doorway, grudgingly admitting that maybe she had gone a bit overboard w/ her reaction. There was one way to find out. She could still probe minds, one of the few abilities she was capable of : tonight while he slept she would look inside him and see if he harboured any plans against her. If he did, he wouldn't wake up.

        Purgatori sat cross-legged on the floor, in a corner of the main hall, facing a wall. She sat slumped, not seeing the freshly painted brick in front of her. Across the room, the thermostat on the heater clicked minutely and the somnolent sigh of the blower started up. She had just been in Wolf's mind.
        She had paced the main room for hours after he had left her, wrestling w/ her thoughts, wondering if she had acted rashly. She had waited until she was sure he had fallen asleep and had crept into the room to find him on the floor, the jacket he had covered her w/ last night now over him. She didn't disturb him : an ant on a carpet made more sound than Purgatori when she wanted to be stealthy. She touched his temple softly and probed oh so gently, seeping into him instead of driving in like a pick-axe as was her normal way. The slight dizzying feelings of merging, of being someone else, a strange sensation she never got used to. You were looking in at something and then suddenly you were a part of it, part of the sight, sound or sensation you had just been looking at. It was unsettling. All of a sudden she was looking at herself in the main room, seeing herself raging and threatening. Damn, she looked sexy when she was angry. And she was Glenn, standing there shaking w/ a set of steel-hard talons in front of his eyes, standing w/ a furious goddess snarling in front of him. His thoughts were hers. And it was those thoughts that had sent her wandering out to end up listlessly in this corner.
        He loved her. It was that simple. She had seen herself ranting at him and had felt not terror but first confusion, then sadness and anger. A swirling muddle of thoughts whipped through his mind. He was confused, unsure of exactly what had set her off. He was hurt : he had only tried to help her, and here she was on the verge of tearing his heart out. He considered that maybe she could use a good paddling for acting like that, then bit it back as he recalled what she had just been through. There she was, a heartbeat from killing him, and he was justifying her actions. Then the anger. She felt him try and quell it, but the more she spat at him the worse it got. She got it all, whether she wanted it or not. That was the problem w/ getting inside someone, you couldn't just selectively edit the part you wanted. You could go to a specific time or memory, but you got everything associated w/ it. And she got feelings of disgust and rage. He thought she was acting like a snotty brat, precocious and arrogant w/ no gratitude for what he had done. Pity and sorrow when she told him about being betrayed, then anger again when she had threatened him.
        And below it all, still the love he felt for her. That shaking she had seen had been fury, not fear. He seemed to be well aware of the fact that she could kill him, but he didn't seem particularly bothered by it; presumably, being a martial artist, he was used to fighting and maybe killing. What did bother him was the way she was treating him. All he had done was try to help her and she was biting his head off as though she had caught him trying to molest her while she was unconscious. That stung Purgatori. She had probed deeper, hoping to come across some ulterior motive to his actions that would justify the way she had acted, but instead came across his first sight of her. She was him outside, coming cautiously up the alley w/ a knife in his hand, taking in the broken window and disturbed bins. Opening the door carefully, scouting around inside, checking that nothing had been damaged or stolen. Opening the inside door and seeing herself lying on the ground, sleeping restlessly. Feelings. Slight shock at finding someone, more shock as he actually registered her wings and horns. Then the shock faded away as he crouched down and saw her face. Purgatori closed her eyes as if to shut out the memory of his memories. He had looked at her and just fallen in love. He was entranced.
        Just like Ostraca had been.
        No. He just lusted after me. But that was rubbish, a feeble attempt to exonerate herself. She had caught his feelings, deep love, but tinged w/ remorse, a conflict for his fiancee. He wouldn't try to take advantage of her because he already had someone, and that put him about three steps ahead of some other scum who had tried to bed her even though they were married. She swallowed w/ difficulty. This was one of the great tragedies of her life. She so wanted someone - anyone - to love her, to love her as fully and completely as Ostraca had done, but whenever she got a sniff of a loving feeling from someone she immediately tightened up and wrote them off as wanting to use her for their own ends. And, Horus knew, over the years that had been true more times than she could recall, and those relationships had ended in bitter betrayal and some had almost killed her, but now she slumped weakly and wondered how many of the others that she had spurned first,  had cast aside and left or had killed, had really been in love w/ her. Had any of them really loved her, and suddenly found themselves callously abandoned or dead? A wave of sick self-pity swamped her. Dear Anubis, had she been so wrapped up in her precious martyrdom that she had missed what should have been plainly visible? Had she at some time thrown away that which she so dearly craved above all else? Was she doing so now?
        She opened her eyes and found she was perilously close to tears. No. He just loves my body. That's understandable but shallow. I want someone to love me not my breasts or my legs or face. But that was how it had started w/ Ostraca. She buried her hands in her hair and gripped big double handfuls, pulling until the pain made her grimace. No. He loved her, was enchanted w/ her, but he didn't love her. At least, she didn't think so. She had pulled out before the feelings could overwhelm her, and she had no intention of going back in to verify the situation. And she wasn't in love w/ him, so that put an end to the argument about ignoring things right in front of her. But it still didn't excuse her for the way she had treated him. If she didn't want him as a lover, then at least she could have him as a friend, as an ally. Or she could have if she hadn't screwed it all up w/ her attitude. Could she make it up to him? Should she? When was the last time she had apologised to someone? Had she ever? She saw herself in his memories and was suddenly sickened and embarrassed. Was that what she had become? How could she have been so stupid? At the very best, she might just have thrown away the only ally she had come across on this wretched planet. At worst, she might have made another enemy, and if he bore a grudge it was entirely possible that he could blow her cover or try and kill her or cause her untold other problems. That bitch who went around calling herself Lady Demon had made her this way : it was a direct reaction to what she had been through these past weeks. But, she supposed resignedly, even that was a cop-out excuse. She herself hated rudeness, and when she had ruled Necropolis she had severely punished any girl who didn't show her the proper respect. If any of them had acted towards her the way she had acted towards Glenn she would have whipped the skin off them, regardless of their excuses. I'm a goddess! I don't need to justify the way I act towards a mere mortal! The words tasted like dust. Yes she was a goddess. Goddesses were supposed to be regal, not brats.
        How will you get anyone to worship you if you treat them like that?
        Oh, that hurt.
        She hung her head, exhausted and frustrated all over again. She was stubborn, had been all her life. It kept people from walking all over her, and abusing her, but it made her cold as well. She called it principle, but maybe sometimes it would have been prudent to swallow her pride and arrogance. Maybe if she had let her guard down once in a while she could have had a happier life. Not by much, maybe, but on her scale of experiences a little would have gone a long way.

Egypt, 1386 BC
         Sakkara trudged back up the long rolling sand dune to the cluster of palm trees that marked a resting place for the guards. Only one was around at the moment, supposedly keeping an eye on her but actually doing little more than lazing in the shade w/ a skin of wine. He didn't have much to do – Sakkara was still thick w/ bruises and very sore from the caning Grypus had administered four nights ago and was in no mood to cause trouble for any reason. Or so it seemed.
         She placed the two heavy jars of water down beside the other ten that she had already brought up along w/ several jugs of wine and rolled her shoulders, trying to ease the muscles.
         "Is that the last?"
         She turned to the guard w/ proper dutiful speed. "Yes. Should I take a jar of wine over to Iras and her team again?" This was a regular occurrence. The guard in charge of supplies was obviously getting a few favours from Iras and she had curried a few perks for herself as a result. Getting wine and food while the others got water and nothing to eat was just one of the little things she saw fit to rub in Sakkara's face as often as possible.
         "Yes. And hurry back to work."
         "Yes sir."
         She picked out one of the squat, wide-mouthed jugs and carried it over to where Iras was lounging around in the shade of the Sphinx. She had managed to get herself onto a team that wove reeds into mats for bedding and sacks for carrying grain and moving excavated sand – the team was split into pairs of girls, and as usual Iras had determined that that meant one girl worked and one supervised. No prizes were on offer for guessing who played what role. The three other teams were occupied some distance away, sorting a new stack of reeds and trimming them to uniform length. Iras was talking to her partner, a beautiful brunette w/ golden skin who was called Berenice. Sakkara had been fond of Berenice, but she had been one of the first to fall in w/ Iras and as a result didn't have – or wasn't allowed to have - much time for Sakkara.
         Iras looked up and grinned a big sneering grin. "Hello Sakkara. How's your backside today? Still sore?"
         Sakkara stopped thirty feet away and dropped her jug heavily onto the sand. "Here's your wine, scum."
         Iras's eyes flashed. "Dear me. Still the attitude. We'll have to see what we can do about that. Won't we Berenice?"
         "Yes," Berenice said in a tiny voice, suddenly very interested in her work.
         Iras smirked at Sakkara. "Turn around, I want to see your marks again."
         "Maybe you could kiss them better. Oh no, silly me. It's only the guards' backsides you kiss isn't it?"
         Iras flushed. "Bring my wine here." A lame come-back Sakkara thought.
         "Get off your fat backside and get it yourself."
         "You're going to get the whipping of your life," Iras hissed. "I'm going to get Grypus to cane you on your feet as well. See how many funny comments you come up w/ tomorrow. Bring my wine here NOW and maybe I'll tell him to go easy on you."
         Sakkara stood fuming, breathing heavily, then snatched up the jug and shoved it at Iras.
         "Good girl," Iras sneered as Sakkara backed away. "You can go now," she said imperiously as she worked the cork stopper out of the wide neck. "Oh, and by the way, I was lying about telling Grypus to go easy on you."
         "I know."
         "Run along like a good little slave and leave me to savour this lovely wine." She pulled the cork out, raised the jar, and a large and very irate Egyptian cobra rocketed out and jammed its fangs into her cheek. Iras jumped up w/ a scream that could probably have been heard in Rome and ran in a shrieking circle as the snake bit her again then dropped off her and made for the shadows of the Sphinx.
         "Dear me," Sakkara murmured. "However did that get in there?"

         The next morning she sat in the dining tent and ate her meal happily. She had slept well last night and even the pain from sitting on her bruises seemed to have abated a lot.
         "Hello Sakkara." It was Berenice. She looked at Sakkara doubtfully and then sat down beside her, carefully setting her cup of water on the floor. She took a bite of bread and smiled timidly at Sakkara as if waiting for a greeting. "Wasn't it awful about Iras?" she said finally.
         "No."
         "She's been blinded and paralysed, you know. I think the guards will just kill her if she doesn't get any better."
         "Sad."
         Berenice cleared her throat, and Sakkara noticed she was blushing slightly. "I've been moved onto a group making blankets today. Do…do you want…want me to make you a new one? To replace the one Iras took?"
         Sakkara stopped chewing and considered this for a moment. As far as she could remember, it was the first time anyone had offered to do her a favour.
         Berenice blushed deeper at the silence and cleared her throat again. "I…I was…hoping we could be friends again….like before? I really like you Sakkara, some of the other girls like Charmian are really nasty to me, but you never picked on me."
         Sakkara swallowed, her sapphire eyes fixed on Berenice's hazel ones.
         "There are some of us who are really proud of you, the way you stuck up for yourself that night even though it meant getting beaten. We could all be friends together."
         "You…want to be my…friend?"
         Berenice looked at her w/ a pretty smile. "Yes! Like we were before. I mean, we never really got to be close friends, but we liked each other didn't we…?"
         "I liked you. Did you like me?"
         "Of course! I thought you were very nice. And kind. And..and p-pretty," she degenerated into a mumble, now almost beetroot red.
         "You did like me…"
         "Yes!"
         "And now you want to be my friend again.."
         "Yes!"
         "Now that Iras isn't around to protect you from Charmian."
         "Y-…er…"
         "Can I ask you a question Berenice?"
         "Erm, yes…"
         "Where were you when I needed a friend?"
         "…but…"
         "You were all pleasant to me, and then Iras turned up and you drop me like a scorpion. All that time I was alone and getting picked on and never once did you say anything or try and get her to stop. If you all had stood up against her she wouldn't have been able to do anything. But you just sat back and let her have her fun w/ me."
         "B-b-but she would have beaten us! Had the guards whip us!" Berenice wailed. Several of the other slaves looked over.
         "So it was just easier to sit there quietly and let me take all the beatings instead. And now she's gone and you find yourself fair game for Charmian again you think you can come running back to little Sakkara and put on a big smile and think everything will be all right. And presumably next time another bully like Iras turns up you can go off and leave me again."
         "But…I…just thought…I just wanted to be friends…I thought you would want a friend…"
         "I do. And you're not one." Berenice gaped at her, her eyes swimming w/ tears. Sakkara's eyes were as cold and hard as the jewels they resembled. "You think you can just drop me and leave me all alone when I need a friend the most and then just pick me up again when it suits you? Get out of my sight. And tell the rest of those spineless toads you hang around w/ that I don't want to be friends w/ them either. I'm not going to be your friend just when it's convenient for you. Take your blanket and choke on it." She pulled another piece of bread off her crust. "Get away from me, you're putting me off my food."
         Berenice jumped up w/ a strangled sob and ran out of the tent, leaving her food behind. Sakkara turned her back on the rest of the slaves, partly because she was disgusted w/ them, but mainly because she didn't want them to see her tears.

San Francisco
         Purgatori hung her head. Yes. Same old story, all her life. If she had just bitten back her anger she could have put all that behind her and she could have spent the next few years w/ friends, people to laugh and talk to, people to share her pains w/ and share comfort w/, people to huddle up to on cold winter nights. All that far out-weighed the anger she felt at the way they had left her alone – after all, she couldn't really blame them for backing down and going along w/ a domineering tough bitch like Iras – but that stubborn streak in her, that refusal to forgive anyone for f*cking her over…it had just taken control and she had gone w/ it. All the reasons and excuses had been disregarded. She could have spent many nights snuggled up w/ Berenice and maybe things might have developed beyond that, but instead she had been betrayed and she had been unable to forgive them. Of course, compared to some of the betrayals she had endured in her life time that was almost insignificant, but she had been young then, and that had been the first. And maybe the defining one, the one that shaped her personality and set her life on the course it had taken. How different would things have been had she just swallowed all the disbelief and anger and given Berenice a smile and accepted her stupid peace offering of a blanket?
         Her eyes were damp. She wiped them angrily. Who gave a damn anyway? That had been almost forty centuries ago. Who cared? She was what she was. She had been abandoned by people who had dared to say they were her friends and she hadn't been able to forgive them. Was that so wrong? No. It was right. She was right. But that was a different situation to the one she found herself in now. It explained why she had treat Glenn like that, but it didn't legitimise it. So she was afraid of being betrayed again, scared of being vulnerable when she was so weak : that was no excuse for almost killing someone who had tried to help her. Unlike Berenice, Glenn hadn't looked after her then betrayed her, he had just looked after her. She was suddenly disgusted at herself. She tried to divert some of that disgust into hate for Lady Demon, since it was really her fault that Purgatori was here in this situation to start w/, but it didn't seem to make her feel better.
         "Are you all right?"
         She jerked her head up and saw Glenn standing in the doorway. He was still blackened around the eyes slightly and she knew that was due to lack of sleep because he had spent almost forty hours watching over her while she rested. Something seemed to jam in her throat.
         He watched her closely and then pushed his hair back. The bandage seemed to glare at Purgatori. "Listen, I don't want to fight again, but I really need to get something to eat. I need to get over to my job too. I can't afford to get sacked."
         "Go." She didn't trust herself to say anything else.
         He stood there watching her again. "I'll get back around six tonight. Can I bring you anything?"
         "No. I'll…be gone." She saw the disappointment in his eyes, even at this distance, and had to look away. "I…I appreciate everything you did for me. Th-thank you." It came out quieter than a whisper.
         "You're welcome." Same gentle tone, as if opening his veins to a stranger was a normal part of his day.
         She looked up at him, desperately wanting to say something that would be able to restore a little bit of her self-esteem, because if she didn't she might never be able to look at herself again w/out that feeling of disgust and helpless resignation, the realisation that maybe her personality had cursed her to loneliness. "Wolf…I..didn't…mean to say…" She stopped, hating the feeling that was rising, the old feeling of superiority that told her she was a goddess and didn't have to explain herself to the likes of him, the pride that was trying to choke her words.
         "We got off on the wrong foot a bit, didn't we?" he said mildly.
         Purgatori blinked in surprise. She had expected him to ignore her, or maybe tell her to shove her excuses up her ass, but she hadn't expected this. But then again, considering  the feelings she had felt inside his head, maybe she should have. "I…I haven't…" Oh gods, this was torture. Was it really so hard to apologise and admit she had been wrong? I've ravaged cities, devastated entire districts of Hell. I've bested and fed on demons and demi-gods and Fallen Angels. Why should I have to apologise to this creature? Because the one trait she held higher than any other was loyalty, and this man had stood by her when she was hurt and was still around now, despite a very real threat to his life. Because she was a goddess and goddesses weren't ignorant wretches who treat their subjects like dirt, they were supposed to be kind and benevolent and rewarded their worshippers – if you spurned your worshippers, they would stop revering you, and a goddess w/out worshippers was just a stuck-up brat w/ an attitude. How would she  feel if she had went through the Nexus and finally found her beloved Isis, fell to her knees in front of her, and she kicked Purgatori out the way saying, "Get out of my way you worthless insect, you're not worth wasting my time on"? "I haven't apologised to anyone in four thousand years," she managed to say quietly.
         "Then don't start now," Glenn said. "Everything you said about being alone and hurt and vulnerable was right. I understand; I've been there. You had no reason to trust me."
         "I did. You spent almost two days watching over me. You fed me."
         "Yeah. Well, like you say, I might have had a hidden agenda." He walked over to her and extended his hand. She looked at it and then took it and he helped her to her feet. "Look, I don't mind okay? People w/ less reason than you have treated me worse. I could have lived w/out it, but I'm not going to lose any sleep over it."
         Purgatori gazed at him thoughtfully. The words made her feel warm and light, the way she had felt the first time Ostraca had talked to her. It sounded like a absolution. She took the forgiveness gratefully but still had to forgive herself. "I'm sorry." There. Finally. Two tiny little words. It seemed as though standing unarmed in front of Lady Demon and saying "kill me" would have been easier. He just smiled a small smile at her and she saw his eyes drinking in her face.
         "I have to go," Wolf said finally. "I'll see you tonight."
         He wanted her to stay. She had a place to live in. A dry, warm place. "Yes. I'll be here." He let go of her hand and pulled on his jacket. "Purgatori."
         He frowned. "Sorry?"
         "You can call me Purgatori."
         "That's a pretty name," he said, inspecting her face again. "But a sad one, I feel."
         Purgatori just shrugged. They watched each other for a moment more and then she sighed. "Why did you stay w/ me? If I were you I would have gone long ago."
         He paused w/ his hand on the door handle. "Like I said, I've been where you are; alone and hurt. You said I didn't know the first thing about betrayal, but you were wrong." He pulled his T-shirt out of his jeans and lifted up the front to reveal his hard flat belly. A thick rope of scar tissue formed a looping curve from his left hip to a point just below his sternum. "My fiancee did that to me, just before I had to kill her. It's a long and painful story, but I'll tell you it sometime if you want. I fell in love w/ you the moment I saw you, but it goes beyond that. I felt for you, seeing you hurt like that. Guess I've just got a soft spot for damsels in distress," he said w/ a small grin. The smile faded and he looked at her w/ serious eyes again. "Turns out we're kindred spirits, Purgatori. Both alone, both betrayed." He let the T-shirt drop back into place. "We'll talk tonight. I'm not expecting anyone, so if anyone tries to get in, you can consider them an enemy."
         "I'll take care of them," she smiled thinly.
         "I'm sure you will. Keep safe Purgatori. I'll be back as soon as I can."
         And w/ that he was gone. She heard him chaining the door up and locking it behind him, but it didn't bother her. She had no plans for going anywhere, and if she needed to get out she suspected that she could take the door out w/ one kick. She was clean. She was warm. She was dry. She had a friend. A friend. And a strange one at that. He had said he had killed his lover after she had almost gutted him, but when she had been in his mind she had felt the love he still had for her. He was right : they were kindred spirits in more ways than one. She lay down on the floor, pillowing her head w/ her arm and thought about Glenn Wolf.

Shanghai, China
         Jade stood in the centre of her sanctum, watching expressionlessly as the two men before her flopped and writhed in agony. The warm smell of blood hung on the air, arousing her. She made a tiny gesture, and her guards backed away, lowering their metal pipes, lengths of chain, nunchakus and other weapons w/ which they had been beating the two men w/. Her eyes glowed in the dim room. Her guards didn't mind : theirs did too. They didn't mind the fact that her long black hair swayed and moved gently, even though there was no wind in the room. The two idiots on their knees were the only humans in the room. Two serpentine creatures coiled at her feet, hissing at the men. They were pure energy, these creatures, translucent manifestations of Jade's power radiating a soft and somehow chilling green light. She kept them around for company, and because she liked the terror they induced to any human visitor.
         One of the men struggled to his knees. "Please! Mistress! We meant no harm! We – " He gagged as a long whipcord of Jade's hair snapped out and wrapped around his throat. It reached the man fifteen feet away, even though her hair was normally only waist length.
         "Don't you dare try and lie to me," Jade hissed. The hair tightened around the man's neck until his eyes began to bulge. "You were seen talking to the Yakuza representative. You were seen exchanging information for money. For MONEY!" Jade snarled. She had been sold out for a few thousand American dollars. Her organisation owned some of the most profitable casinos and brothels in China and Hong Kong, they had lucrative stakes in hotel chains, computer software, electronic supplies and a dozen different enterprises, and still her underlings had seen fit to betray her for a handful of gold. Another rope of hair snaked out to choke the other man and she lifted them both off the ground, her rage fuelling her powers. "Know this. Your contacts are dead. The Yakuza have been sent their heads. Your petty plans are for nothing. The Dragon Clan vampires are still unaware of our location. You have failed. Die, knowing your families will pay for your betrayal." And w/ a single angry thought she opened up their throats, spilling their worthless blood onto the polished onyx floor. Her phantasms slipped forward and licked at the steaming pools but she herself didn't give the spasming sacks of meat the satisfaction of seeing her drink from them. The ultimate vampire snub – the spilling of blood rather than drinking it. She let the corpses fall to the ground and stood fuming over them.
         "Shall we seek out their families, Mistress?" her bodyguard asked.
         "No," Jade replied. She wondered whether they would take it as a sign of weakness, but didn't really care. They wouldn't question her motives, and these vampires were far more loyal to her than the scum humans she employed. The truth was, she abhorred pointless killing. Her vampirism had been thrust upon her and it was a constant source of dismay to her that she had to kill to feed, but she tried to ease her conscience by trying to kill only criminals and enemies who would have no hesitation in killing her. She had wanted the two men to die thinking that their sins had condemned their whole families, a fact that would have tormented them had she let them live, but he had had no real intention of killing innocent wives and children who had had nothing to do w/ these men's actions. "Take these bodies away and burn them. Clean this place and leave me alone. I will call a meeting in six hours and we will discuss our plans for  –"
         Jade!
         "- a-a-action.." She stuttered to a stop and her bodyguard was at her side in a moment, his hand taking her shoulder w/ surprising tenderness.
         "Mistress? Are you all right?"
         "Yes, Chow. Leave me now, all of you. I will call you later."
         They went immediately, bowing and leaving hurriedly , sliding the screen doors shut behind them. Jade looked blankly into the shadows, her dragons entwining themselves around her ankles. "Kabala?"
         Yes. I have tried for three weeks to find you!
         "I have been busy in another country. What do you want?"
         Our maker, Purgatori! She has returned!
         Jade's skin sculpted into goose-bumps at the words. She had felt the faint sensations herself and had passed them off as nothing more than her imagination, maybe brought on by the stress of the problems she had just dealt w/ and the savage Triad battle she had just crushed in London. But now Kabala's words struck a chill in her she hadn't known for centuries. A chill, and a hatred. "Yes…I too had sensed her, yet I didn't believe it could be true, not after all this time."
         Our chance has come Jade! She is weak! Much weaker than we could have hoped for. Let us strike now before she can gain an advantage!
         "Where is she? I sense a great distance between us."
         America. I thought her lost to me after I attacked her, but she has reappeared to me.
         "You attacked her!" Jade cried in surprise. "She must truly be weak if she let you get away w/ that!"
         Yes. I sense I hurt her too! Come w/ me. We must contact her and tell her that we are still waiting for her.
         "That may not be wise Kabala. Should we not keep the element of surprise?"
         She senses someone hunts her. She will discover our identities in due course. I say we make ourselves known to her now. She will be thrown off guard and the revelation will make her nervous and wary. It will distract her while we close in.
         "Yes…a good strategy. We can put her on edge and let her fret for a few days while we strengthen ourselves on the trip to America."
         Yes! Join w/ me now Jade. Let us send her a message of greeting!
 

San Francisco
         "What is that?"
         Glenn Wolf looked over to where Purgatori was pointing. A wide flat box of carved wood rested on the small shelf in front of the dojo shrine. In the three weeks since Purgatori had arrived she had seen him gradually transform the place from a dusty, empty building to a clean dojo, a martial arts training hall. The walls had been freshly painted, the windows and the skylight in the main hall had been cleaned but covered by heavy drapes for her benefit, and the floor of the main room had been covered w/ thick foam mats. The cartons and plastic sheeting that they had been packed in had been cleared out and disposed of, and the small office she had originally bedded down in was now a comfortable office w/ a computer, chair and filing cabinet to go w/ the small table. Racks of training weapons and various posters and a large Japanese flag decorated the walls. The shrine was something she hadn't really understood because it held a photograph of a man rather than an icon of a god, but she put it down to one of those obscure rituals humans liked to engage in and left it at that. The customary incense sticks were there, but the box was new.
         "Steel," Wolf said. He picked up the box and opened it to reveal two cubes of dull metal resting in purple velvet. "Don't touch them," he said hurriedly as he saw her raise her hand, "they've been purified."
         "Why?"
         "For making swords. This is some of the purest steel you can find. They've been purified in a ceremony to make them worthy for a blade."
         "You've enchanted them?"
         "Uh…no. Not like that. It's more a symbolic thing."
        Purgatori frowned. "To make a sword like yours?" she asked, gesturing at the katana that rested on a stand by the shrine.
        "Yes." He replaced the box on the shelf and bowed to it briefly. "The katana is, arguably, the finest sword ever made."
        "Hmmph. I know a weaponsmith who could forge a sword that would cleave through your blade like butter. It is rumoured that the enchantments he can put into a blade can even kill demons and angels."
         Glenn was struck again by her casual mention of things that he had never really believed in. He had never been religious but over the weeks she had talked about creatures and places that he had thought were only mythical creations. She had even mentioned Heaven and Hell, as casually as though she was talking about Arizona, and he had spent that night wondering if all the preachers had actually been right about the fate of people upon death. Wolf thought that if he could get Purgatori on a couple of evening chat shows he could make enough money to buy most of Europe, probably. "Yes, but that's magick you're talking about. I'm talking about blades."
        Purgatori considered this. "So why don't you enchant your blades? If they're so good just being swords, then they would be even better combined w/ sorcery."
        "Well, yeah, I guess….But nobody here does sorcery."
        "I do." She looked from the box to his katana, eyes narrowed in thought. "Could you make me a sword? If I put spells into the metal?"
        "Er…"
        "I'll pay you for it of course. You humans are fond of gold aren't you?"
        Glenn smiled. "Why is it you always make 'human' sound like the worst possible insult? No, it isn't a case of wanting money, I was just considering the possibility. My swordmaker is very traditional, I don't know how he would feel about forging a magickal blade."
        "Would he want money?"
        "Not everybody's money-obsessive, Purgatori. No, he'd prefer steel."
        "Steel? Why? This pure type?"
        "Yes. Pure steel is very precious to a sword maker."
         "Where did you get it?"
         "At a place called Takeshi's, just outside town, by the big drive-in cinema. They specialise in stuff like this." He watched Purgatori for a while. "Are you going out tonight?"
         "Hmm? Yes. I'm thirsty."
        "Are you all right? You seem a bit…distracted. Out of sorts."
        She looked over, and for a brief moment the old distrust tried to rise up, but she squashed it quickly. "I feel someone's watching me. Hunting me."
        Glenn frowned. "Who? Vampires?"
         "Yes, I think so. I…seem to ….recognise…." She trailed off into silence.
        "Can they hurt you?"
         "Yes," she said frankly. "In my current state, probably quite easily." She saw his look of concern, and was quite touched. When was the last time anyone had cared about her safety? "Don't worry, they aren't anywhere near here. If they were, I would be able to sense them." She didn't mention that despite being far away they had been able to hurt her quite badly last time. "I'm going out. I'll be back before five o'clock."
        "Sure," he said, still regarding her w/ some concern. "I'm going home, but I'll stop by in the morning on my way to work."
         "Good."
         She left by the skylight, which got her out of the building out of the sight of anyone who might have been in the area. Her wings drove her powerfully upward, climbing high past the level of the streetlights so that anyone happening to glance upwards would be unlikely to see her. She began to cruise over the city, criss-crossing the streets like a hawk hunting for mice in a field.
         She let her mind consider Glenn as she flew, her eyes roving constantly for any potential victims. Over the past weeks he had proved himself as loyal as he had said. He hadn't sold her out to anyone and he had even let her drink from him on two more occasions when she had been unable to go out. She had taken a little too much the second time and he had fainted, scaring her. For a moment she thought that she had managed to inadvertently kill the one friend she had in the world, but after binding the wound and checking his pulse she had realised what had happened and a huge sense of relief had made her head spin. He had come around half-an-hour later and had brushed away her concern, but she had resolved to herself that that would be the last time she drank from him. Sometimes, when she got her lips against a fresh wound, she just lost control, and she wouldn't allow herself to do that around him.
        He had started teaching her martial arts, for something to do to try and fill in her empty hours. She was just beginning to learn to use style and technique rather than her speed and strength to try and beat him when they sparred by hand or w/ swords : as he had pointed out, speed was no substitute for quality of technique. If you relied on speed eventually someone faster than you would turn up and you would be beaten. She just had to look back at her fight w/ Lady Demon to see the truth in that. She had been forced to fight after being savagely tortured, and as a result she didn't have the strength or speed she usually relied on : she had lost. If you perfected your style you could add the speed later and unless the opponent was both better and more experienced, you would win. She was getting better. She was a fast learner, and had the stamina and time to practice continuously for more than fifteen hours a day, every day. She could have just pulled the techniques and information out of his mind, but that was a very painful method and she would do nothing to harm him. Besides, the learning and self-discipline gave her focus.
         She had told him of her banishment to Earth by Lady Demon and knew that some of the things she had said about the existence of Heaven and Hell troubled him. She could have added that all religions were valid, that there were creatures and gods and goddesses in the cosmos from any religion he could name, but she suspected that that information might not have a calming effect. In return, he had told her of his own betrayal. He had fallen in love w/ a girl from a Yakuza family and had been grudgingly accepted into the family. He had gotten engaged to her, they had been happy. She turned out to be psychotic. She had been an assassin for the family and when they had moved to Japan she had gradually enticed him into killing too. At first he didn't really care, because the people they killed had been drug dealers and other gang-bangers who were doubtlessly killers themselves. And then things had changed. The head of the family had been killed in an assassination and the son who had taken over had been a real scumbag. He had ordered Glenn to kill a businessman, for no reason other than he wanted to try and take over his company. Glenn had refused. The son had been enraged and had attacked Glenn. Glenn was an accomplished martial artist and took maybe five seconds to put him in Intensive Care. His fiancee had been dedicated to the family, he knew that, but he had thought that she would have seen his point of view, understood his belief that the killing would have been dishonourable. She hadn't. When he had returned home that night she had knifed him in the belly, meaning to spill his guts around his feet and leave him squirming. He had almost let her get away w/ it too, then survival took over from love and he had kicked her away long enough to draw his gun and blow her head off her shoulders. By some miracle, the police had arrived before the rest of the Yakuza and he had been taken to hospital under protective custody. They wanted him to testify, and he had flatly refused. He had escaped the hospital and managed to flee to America using one of the false passports the family had given him. He had heard later from various shady contacts he still kept in touch w/ that the family had been disgusted w/ the brother's actions and he had somehow 'disappeared', the other brother taking over in his place. Word was out that they were looking for Glenn to make amends, but he kept away from them. What could they do to make it better? Replace his fiancee's head?
        Such sorrow. Purgatori had felt so sorry for him, a remorse that originated from her own betrayal by a lover. He had been right; they were so alike it was frightening, and she wondered if their meeting was coincidence, or whether the gods had thrown them together. What would be the chances of meeting someone who would take one look at a red-skinned, winged demoness and fall in love rather than run screaming into the night? She had wandered around the city and from various movie posters and book covers and comic shop windows she knew that humans were entirely comfortable w/ demons and monsters and aliens, but reading about them and watching them was different to meeting them in real life. Still, he had told her of reports from New York where it was rumoured that the dead had begun to return to life, so maybe vampires were not so special anymore. Whatever, he had taken her entirely in his stride and loved her, though she felt he loved her as a sibling rather than an object of lust. And she too, was –
        PURGATORI!!
        She jerked back w/ a snarl of surprise, beating her wings to hover in the sky. Not an attack this time, no pain.
        How long we have waited for you. Surely you haven't forgotten your blood daughters?
        Actually, she had. She hadn't thought of them in thirty-three centuries, but now, w/ that revelation, she realised why the sensations that had tormented her had felt so familiar.
        Listen Purgatori, and listen well. Your return is a mystery. We had believed you dead! But it matters not. I have managed to make use of the 'gift' you bestowed upon me, but my entire clan paid the price! Sorrow always hangs heavy in my heart Purgatori, but I have had close to four thousand years to ready for the day when I would repay you. I am ready to make you pay for what you did to us. I am at the peak of my powers! Can you say the same?
         Purgatori snarled. "Get out of my mind you bitch!"  Jade! Kabala! They're  still alive! And they don't sound too pleased to hear from me. They can trace me! How can I stop them? Yes; a Veil of Silence, if I can still cast one. She bit the tip of her right index finger and scribed a pattern in the air before her, the blood leaving a glowing red trail as though she were writing on paper. Incantation words rose into her mind and she whispered them quickly.
         NO! Don't you dare! We will find you anywa –
         Blessed silence dropped over Purgatori as the psychic link was broken. Damn their eyes! Her blood-daughters, still alive and having the impudence to threaten her no less! She began flying again, angry and worried. At the peak of her powers. Yes, Jade had no doubt been practising and feeding for four millennia, and here was Purgatori almost as weak as a new-born vampire. She needed power quickly. She needed to find elder vampires. She reached out w/ all of her sorcery-enhanced senses and cruised, searching for the tell-tale signs of power. She moved patiently in an ever-increasing spiral, covering ground as quickly as possible.
         She had just about given up hope when she found what she was looking for. Time was passing - the city would start coming to life in about two hours and the sun would show itself not long after - and she still hadn't fed. She was beginning to worry. She had been so concerned about finding vampires w/ powerful blood that she hadn't thought to look out for any lone humans that would have sated her thirst somewhat. And then, she felt them.
         She came to a hover again, looking down at the building that was tickling her senses. A large, gothic-looking mansion set in rolling grounds that were protected by formidable fences. A beautiful piece of architecture at least two hundred years old, but it wasn't the intricate stonework and exquisite windows that caught Purgatori's attention. It was the inhabitants. Four of them, unless she was mistaken. Just what she needed.

         Angelica leaned back w/ a contented sigh, letting the blood slide smoothly down her throat.
        "Ah, sisters. His blood…so sweet!" She moved back from the table slightly to allow Delia to sample to food. Josef Cerano, free-lance killer, lay naked on the wide mahogany table, dazed and dying. He had come here w/ Catherine under the belief that they were going to spend the whole night having sex : Catherine could play the temptress well when she had to and she never failed to bring back something for them to feast on. This cold murderer had been a babbling wreck by the time they had finished playing w/ him and now they were taking turns at his neck, gently and slowly draining the life from him. He was just the last of many, countless victims who had serviced them since 1857, when Angelica had first been turned by her boyfriend. He had not lived long past that day, killed by a gang of vigilantes after getting careless, so Angelica had required some company. Catherine had been a long time friend and had joined her willingly, excited at the prospect of being a powerful supernatural creature that would live for ever. She had brought in Barbara, who in turn had brought in Delia, her lover. There had been eight of them at their height, but their numbers had been gradually whittled away by accident or design. Some of them found that the glamour of immortality wore off real fast and the nocturnal, isolated existence had driven two of them to suicide. Others had been killed by accident, maybe staying out too long and neglecting to consider the time, more had been murdered by humans. They learned to keep themselves hidden, separate from man and safely protected by intricately devised plots and cover stories. As far as anyone in the city knew, this house had actually changed hands eleven times over the years and yet no-one had lived here but them. It was amazing what one could achieve w/ a little money, and they had more than a little. They fed on criminals, a practice that had served them well over the years. Nobody worried about a criminal's absence for long, and the underworld provided a ready source of people willing to do their bidding for money. They considered themselves untouchable. They had accumulated considerable powers over the years, and nobody had been able to hurt them since the last murder of one of their number at the turn of the century. Humans were such easy prey, their knives and weapons inconsequential. They toyed w/ their victims, mocking them and torturing them, showing them how naive they were to believe that they considered themselves to be tough and impressive because they had a few murders to their names. How many of those multiple killers had ended up on their knees, cowering and blubbering, begging for their miserable lives?
         They were powerful, but they were also complacent. Used to a life of leisure, and untroubled by any other vampire that might have existed on the planet, they were simply unprepared for what crashed into their well-mannered lives.
         The feeding room was a long wide annexe that had once been a billiards room. The polished marble floor was easy to wipe clean and the large crystal skylight overhead afforded a delightful view of the moon when the pollution allowed. Delia moved away to let Barbara take her fill and as she did so the domed skylight exploded inwards, showering them w/ silver spears.
         Purgatori dropped into their midst, her wings spread to their full intimidating four metre span. She landed w/ the grace of a panther, and one glance around her told her all she needed to know about these pathetic pampered creatures. Their room was opulent and richly furnished, lit by myriads of candles in solid gold and silver candelabras. Their clothes were long flowing gowns of a long-passed era, made of heavy expensive fabrics and decorated w/ precious metals, pearls and gems.
        "What - what are you?" Angelica gasped in terror. Fear. After all this time, cold fear enveloped her. She looked into those shining eyes and if she had been a human she would have soiled herself. "What are you?"
        Something probed at Purgatori's mind and Catherine gave a shriek. "No! Sisters, she is no vampire, she comes from Hell itself!"
        Purgatori whirled at her. Catherine tried to determine how best she could use her powers against a demon, and a second later Purgatori hit her, hard. Catherine flew backwards, smashing into an ornate candelabra and knocking the lighted candles every which way. Beside Catherine's crumpled body, the thick velvet drapes at the French windows flared up. Purgatori was on top of Angelica before she could fully comprehend what was happening to them. She wrenched open Angelica's bodice and sank her teeth into one of her large firm pale breasts. Angelica cried out at the violation, somehow horribly aroused at the same time. Her confusion didn't last long.
        Barbara fell to her knees, clutching at one of the drapes as though maybe she could hide behind it and be safe from this demon. A huge sheet of flame roared up from the tinder-dry curtains, and in front of this infernal backdrop she saw the winged vampire drop the limp body of Angelica, grab a hold of Delia and tear into her throat.
        "Please NO! Don't kill her!"
        The demon pulled away as if obeying, one hand clamped around Delia's neck, lifting her kicking and struggling into the air. She squeezed and Barbara wailed miserably as she heard the bones crunch. The creature turned to look at her. Barbara sobbed as Purgatori strode over, walking deliberately as though she had all the time in the world, walking as though the place wasn't rapidly becoming a raging pyre around her. Barbara scrambled backwards and pressed herself into the wall. "N-n-no p-please! We h-h-haven't d-done anything to you! W-hy are you doing this!"
        Purgatori reached down and yanked her to her feet, pulling her close as though she meant to kiss her. "Pathetic wretch. Your blood boils w/ uncertainty. Terror overcomes you. I love the taste of turmoil! Terror brings such a sweet bouquet to blood!" Barbara sobbed at the mocking laugh and then suddenly she felt the hideous feeling of draining, the feeling she had felt long ago when Catherine had turned her into a vampire. Then, it had been erotic and exciting. She had another beauty's lips at her breast, and when it was over she would be immortal and unimaginably powerful. This time though, there would be no epilogue : when this vampire finished w/ her, she would be dead. Her head lolled back and she saw Delia's body burning in the flames. She relaxed and let Purgatori feed. W/out her lover, she didn't want to live.
        "Aaaaahhhh…" Purgatori arched her back, shuddering in pleasure as she felt raw power spread through her body. Her hunger was gone, sated for the moment by the finest feast she had had since arriving back on Earth. Power. She had power again. But what little she had gained from these soft animals was still no match for what Jade and Kabala must have acquired. Flame suddenly shot up the wall beside her, feeding fast on the varnish of the oak panelling, and blossomed out above her like an umbrella. Time to leave. She left the way she had come, speeding out of the house just as the roof timbers caught. It had started raining, the cold water a sharp contrast to the scalding hot room she had just left.
        Jade. Kabala. Still alive. Hungry for her head on a plate. What was she to do? They would be coming for her, she knew that as a sure fact. They were used to this world, and Purgatori was like a fish out of water, ill-at-ease in a country she had never even heard of when she was a slave girl.
She headed across town swiftly, her mind racing. The Veil of Silence should protect her from any more psychic attacks while they were abroad, but the strength magick had depended on the power that created it. It was like a lightbulb : the brightness you got out was dependant on the voltage you put into it. At her full strength she could have cast a Veil around her that would have made her invisible to them even had she been standing by their sides; w/ her power weakened, she could keep them out of her mind but they still might be able to 'see' her. If they could, they could track her and find her, and she would be in trouble. She wouldn't stand a chance against one of them, never mind the pair of them teamed up together.
        What to do, what to do…She had one more place to visit then she would go back home - go home, didn't that sound so fine? - and think things through. She had an idea of what she needed to do, but she wanted to consider all her options - if indeed she had any left - before committing herself. Now was not the time to go off half-cocked.
        As she flapped on her way, a long procession of fire engines wailed past below her, heading for the burning mansion.

        When Glenn came into the dojo after work the next day, Purgatori was sitting cross-legged on the floor. The lights were out and five candles were set out around her in a circle. Their flames glowed ruby. Glenn closed the door hurriedly and stood in silence, but whatever she had been doing she had obviously finished : she looked up at him and w/ a slight motion of her head the candles snuffed themselves out in unison. The overhead lights switched themselves on.
        "Goddamn," Wolf breathed.
        "I need to talk w/ you," she said, not getting up.
        "Sure." He sat down in front of her and waited for her to speak. She looked distracted again, maybe even worried. She was looking at him w/ her gorgeous eyes glowing at a somewhat dimmer level than he was used to. "Are you all right?"
        She gave him a little half smile, a smile that seemed more sad than pleased. "Yes. Just a bit tired. My sorcery seems to have exhausted me more  than I anticipated." She fell quiet again, looking at him w/ an expression he couldn't quite place. "Here," she said finally, holding a hand out palm up. She gestured w/ her other hand and a violet flame bloomed briefly from her palm, making Glenn jerk back slightly in surprise. It died away to reveal two cubes of metal, objects he recognised. "I obtained these last night. I have endowed them w/ a couple of magickal properties. I would be …grateful …if you might persuade your friend to make me a sword from them."
        "Shiiit…what? Oh, sure. I'll ask him."
        "Take them. They aren't…purified, as you say. They don't need to be."
        Wolf took the cubes and looked at them in wonder. The steel felt cool, even though it had just appeared from flame. And somehow - he couldn't have explained how - it seemed to give off a faint purple glow. It looked like the normal dull grey colour, but if you moved it it seemed to leave a faint violet trail in the air behind it.
        "I brought him payment."
        Glenn pulled his eyes from the metal. "Sorry?"
        Purgatori gestured towards the shrine and Glenn saw a stacked pyramid of six cubes of the metal. "Should that be enough to secure his services?"
        "I - damn! - I, yeah, probably, if he'll do it. How could you afford all…" he turned and looked at her. "Forget I said that. Stupid question. I'll go and see him tomorrow."
        "How long will it take?"
        "A week, maybe two."
        "What?"
        "Everything's handmade Purgatori. It takes time. His swords aren't some cheap-sh*t rubbish just for decoration." He looked at her face and read the expression. "What's wrong? What's happened?"
        She placed her hands lightly on her knees, an unconscious imitation of his own posture. "I need to leave."
        Glenn digested this. "Have your enemies turned up?"
        "No. But they will. They're on their way. They'll find me and kill me. Eventually they'll kill me."
        "What can I do?"
        She smiled at him fondly. "Keep away from them. They could kill you w/ a thought."
        "I take it that means you won't allow me to come w/ you."
        "That's right. You would serve no purpose except to provide them w/ a meal." Glenn's expression told her all she needed to know. He accepted what she said, but having to leave her alone stuck in him like a spear. It broke her heart a little to see it. Once again she had someone who loved her, and once again they were going to have to part. At least this time it wasn't because of betrayal. "I need your help, Glenn."
        "Name it."
        "Name it", she thought. Not "what is it?", not "If I can": "name it". "I need to get to Egypt."
        "Damn."
        "How can I do it? Can you help me?"
        Glenn rubbed his face. "Jesus. Let me think for a minute."
        She did so, watching him as he sat there perfectly still, his breathing slowed and his eyes closed. She had seen him meditate like this often - he usually did so before and after each training session - and she envied the way he was able to just seemingly switch off and let go of his troubles and stresses, to just relax himself and to open his mind to consider problems. She had tried it a couple of times during the day and had failed miserably : her mind would constantly wander off and fret over things, nagging at problems instead of looking at them objectively to find a solution.
        At last he opened his eyes. "Okay. What are like w/ sunlight? Does it still affect you?"
        "Yes."
        "What about your magick? Can't you shield yourself?"
        "Not in my current state."
        "What about shape-shifting then. You said you were able to do that - can you still?"
        "No."
        "Sh*t." He pursed his lips for a moment. "Okay. The only solution I can think of is to get you onto a ship. We'll have to smuggle you on board of course because of your appearance and you'll probably have to hide for the entire voyage, and that could probably take weeks."
        She grimaced. "What about these flying machines you have?"
        "Not a chance. Trust me, we'd never be able to smuggle you on board, and even if we could there'd be nowhere for you to hide."
        "Could we steal one?"
        "Sh*t no! Even if we could find one that could make it to Egypt we'd need a pilot, and even then you'd probably get shot down or something, or at least have the police waiting for you when you landed."
        "Hire one then."
        "No. It would have to be a clandestine job because of who and what you are. That means smuggling you into the country. That's big trouble, and I don't have the contacts to connect w/ the sort of people who would be willing to risk it." He saw the disappointment in her face. "I'm sorry Purgatori, but I can't see any alternative to a ship."
        "Neither can I," she sighed. "So tell me : how do we do it?"
        "Well, I'll have to check out around the port and shipping companies, see if there's anything heading to Egypt. Does it have to be Egypt, or could you get to, say, Italy and make your way across?"
        "It would have to be Egypt. I don't want to waste what strength I have on unnecessary flying."
        "Yes…I'll check first thing in the morning." He looked at her in silence.
        "What?"
        "It's pretty sh*tty, Purgatori."
        "What is?"
        "Having to leave you unprotected."
        She smiled that sad smile again and reached out to take one of his hands. It was only the second time they had touched socially and she saw it register in his eyes. "Glenn. You couldn't protect me anyway. The worst way to die is pointlessly, and I won't allow you to do that." He lowered his eyes to the floor and sighed, knowing and accepting the truth. She knew - knew - that had she not forbidden it, he would have gone along and died for her anyway. She held his hand tighter. Somebody else might have taken her affection as an excuse to try and push the point and maybe try for a hug, and then a kiss, and then maybe sex. When had anyone treat her w/ such respect just because they loved her, not because they were frightened of her? Truth was, she couldn't remember if anyone had. "I can best them Glenn. I just need to stack the odds a bit more in my favour. And to do that I need to be on my home ground."
        "Sure..."
        "Look at my eyes." He did so. "I WILL best them. I WILL be back. Do you believe me?"
        He looked at her for a long time. Finally he said, "If they give you even the slightest chance, yes, I believe you will kill them, no matter how powerful they are. You've lasted four thousand years so far, and I don't believe that was due to chance." He returned the squeeze of her hand. "But I don't think they'll give you that chance."

        A strong wing buffeted the van as it stood by the side of the road. It was parked up against the chainlink fence than cordoned off  the loading area of the docks, and the wind wailed through the steel links w/ a dismal tone. Glenn jumped out of the cab and went around to the back. He had hired the van for a day, for the express purpose of getting Purgatori here : w/ her big wings, she couldn't fit in his compact sports car, and the windowless cargo area hid her nicely. Three days ago he had made a couple of telephone calls to the port authority, coast guards and several shipping firms and had finally located what he was looking for. The freighter Nun was due to leave at ten-thirty in the morning on Thursday, bound for Alexandria. It would head South, go around the Cape and then head straight across the Atlantic for the Mediterranean.
        He rolled the back door up, climbed in and let it slam behind him. Purgatori was sitting cross-legged on the floor, on one of the dojo mats he had put in in lieu of a carpet. Numerous large plastic bags were strewn around her and she had another to her lips. She drained it w/ a grimace and arched a wry eyebrow at him.
        "How is it you have contacts that can obtain blood and body parts, but not an aeroplane?"
        Glenn just shrugged. He hadn't told her that he had actually stolen them from a Mafia courier - one of their new ventures in trading. Organs and blood were high-profit items. She wanted to keep him out of danger and would have hit the roof if she had known, but he felt the risk was worth it : he wanted her to be safe, and he wanted her to try and keep her strength up for the long voyage.           "Enjoy it?"
        "It's better fresh. Warm."
        "Do you want some?"
        "No," she said, sharper than she had intended. "What time is it?" she asked softly, to change the subject.
        "Ten past three. Moon's going down. You should get on board now before people start waking up. Give you time to find somewhere to hole up."
        "Yes…" She stood up and stretched. It was finally time, time to go and face whatever was coming. She didn't want to go now. She wanted to stay until her sword was ready; a fearsome weapon it would be and one that would more than even the odds between herself and her enemies, especially since Glenn had been teaching her how to use it properly. She wanted to stay until she had found and drained a few more elder vampires.
        She wanted to stay, period. She realised that was a sign of complacency, of a weariness that was so unlike her, but after millennia of fighting and feeding and keeping to herself she had found a companion who was unwaveringly loyal to her. Such a commodity was a prize indeed, and she wanted to keep him around, but as useful as a human could be for activities that needed to be done in daylight, they were also a tremendous liability, and vulnerable, especially against the foes that would be coming for her. She had offered to turn him into a vampire, to teach him magick and build his strength, but he had just smiled a small melancholy smile. "Life's too long already," he had said softly. "I don't want it extended." She knew he was referring to the loss of his girlfriend. Even after she had almost murdered him, he still loved her. Purgatori could relate to that.
        Wolf opened the door, scouted the surroundings for any roving security guards or wandering people. The broad expanse of the docks was desolate, cloaked in heavy shadows. Thousands of enormous cargo containers were stacked like vast building blocks as far as the eye could see. The gaunt framework of massive cranes reared into the night sky like partially unearthed skeletons. A thin skein of mist hung at ankle height. Purgatori joined him silently and he pointed over to their left.
"There she is. The Nun."
        Purgatori regarded the freighter w/ the vague sense of wonder that this world kept managing to spring on her. She had spent aeons in Hell and various other magical places that made this world look drab, but still she found herself doubling back to her human days, comparing what she saw now w/ what she knew then. The biggest ship she had seen back then was one of Ostraca's ceremonial barges, maybe twenty metres long. The Nun was at least six hundred metres, and made of steel. An ugly, brutish looking thing, but impressive. It hulked in the darkness, dead black apart from a few pathetically small safety lamps that illuminated gangways and ladders.
        "It's a long trip," Glenn said. "Will you be okay?"
        "Yes," Purgatori replied, still eyeing up the ship. "I've been hungry before, I'll manage now. I have no option."
        They stood in silence, Purgatori looking at the ship, Glenn looking at her.
        "You'd better get on board," he repeated at last.
        "Yes." She turned to him, her eyes shining flatly. She felt a strange, almost empty feeling that was a bit like hunger. And in a way, that was exactly what it was; the hunger for company, for a friend. A friend who would have gladly gone w/ her, knowing he would probably die. Some time ago, she reflected, she had told herself that she didn't love him, and now, watching him watch her, his long black hair glimmering in the moonlight, his leather jacket like the glossy black armour of a spider, she was slightly awed to find it wasn't true. She loved him exactly the way he loved her : not as a sexual partner, but as a sibling. That suddenly struck her : she didn't know anything about her family - what if she actually had brothers or sisters somewhere? It stunned her that that had never occurred to her. She pushed it away, to consider in the solitude of the ship. Right now she wanted to concentrate on Glenn. Surprising herself more than him, she put her arms around him and rested her head on his chest.
        "I owe you so much Glenn. When I come back, I'll be in a position to pay you back. Anything you desire, I will give to you."
        His arms encircled her athletic body, stroking her long hair, her silky wing membranes. "Just come back safe. That'll do."
        She squeezed him tighter for a moment then let go and kissed his cheek tenderly. "I will." At the very furthest reaches of the dockyard, a diesel engine fired up, blatting raucously in the thick silence of the early morning. They both looked over briefly. "It may take a while, but I will be back."
        "I'll try and have your sword waiting for you."
        "Yes. And I'll put it to good use," she smiled. Glenn looked at that smile and was very glad he wasn't one of her enemies. "Take care, Glenn," she said. She turned to face the ship and Glenn knew why when he heard the hoarse tone to her voice. "I shall miss you, Wolf. Allies like you are few and far between."
        "How will I know?" Glenn asked as she spread her wings.
        "Know what?" she said, turning back w/ a frown.
        "If you're gone for a few months…how will I know if you're taking your time, or if…"
        "I'm dead?" Purgatori finished. She gazed at him thoughtfully. "I have your blood inside me, I have a bond w/ you that I can use to find you. If you die, it will sever and I will feel it. I can do the same to you w/ a magickal link if you wish."
        "Yes."
        "Close your eyes."
        He did so, and a moment later felt her long sharp fingernails at his temples. The skin there grew cold, then colder, then a sudden tingle made his muscles twitch.
        "There."
        "That's it?" he asked, opening his eyes.
        "Yes. If I had time I could teach you how to use it to track me. But for now, it must suffice you to know that you will at least know that I still live. If I am killed, you will feel a similar feeling as the bond evaporates."
        "Look after yourself Purgatori," Wolf said. There was nothing more to say : if they didn't cut this short they would spend all morning looking at each other and her opportunity would be lost. The sun would come up, or someone would see them and that would cause more problems than he cared to imagine.
        Purgatori had realised the same thing. "I will. You do the same. If you get yourself killed in my absence I will never forgive you. I will scour Heaven and Hell to find you and punish you."
        "Sounds good. Go on. Before she leaves w/out you."
        "Goodbye Glenn."
        And w/ a powerful gust of wind from her wings she was gone, nothing but a flitting shadow amongst shadows. Glenn went back to the cab, got in and turned the cassette player on. In a little over seven hours the ship would depart, and then he would spend the minutes waiting to see if he would feel that deathly tingling. He turned the music up slightly and began to wait.

The Mediterranean Sea
         The moon was little more than a sliver tonight, and in the faint light she cast down from a cloud-choked sky the sea was as pure black as fresh ink. The Nun powered towards Alexandria, her colossal engines pushing her at full speed through the water. A large foaming bow wave heaved up from her prow and crashed to either side of her wide flanks, leaving a churning white wake in her trail. There was only one man left alive on board.
         Hassan Medersa huddled in the shadows under one of the stairways that led up to the bridge, shuddering violently. He had just come from the bridge : Ahmed was in there, slouched in his seat, on hand still on the wheel. Dead. W/ some of the rats from the hold snacking on his face, attracted by the smears of blood on his neck and cheek. And why not? There was no-one to chase them away now, no-one to keep them confined in the hold. Hassan and Ahmed had been holed up for three days, the last survivors of the crew. They had ran out of food yesterday, and Hassan had gone to get some more from the galley. They should have gone together, but Ahmed was terrified, almost catatonic. He said he had seen her. Who, he wouldn't - or couldn't - say. All they knew was that they had left San Francisco w/ a crew of twelve. Two days out, there was eleven. They hadn't found the body. It had been stormy the night before, so the logical conclusion was that he had fallen, or been swept, overboard. Hassan didn't believe that now. Five days out, they were down to ten. They found him in the hold on the sixth day, and the rats had been feasting. His mother wouldn't have recognised him. That night, the radio operator was found, mostly on the floor but over some of the walls too, and all the radio equipment was destroyed. They were cut off. Hassan had never really considered the implications of the word 'isolated' before, but it was hammered home that night. They were in the middle of the ocean, unable to communicate, and someone was killing them one by one. Two days later, Ahmed had ran into the recreation room where some of them had decided to hole up, white and screaming. All they could get out of him was some babbling about having seen a woman. Someone had to punch him out to stop him screaming, and when they all went out on deck in a group they found another body, torn up and drained. Drained. It looked the way a fly did after a spider had been done w/ it. High-tension terror slipped into them all that night. Hassan and Ahmed had been the last two left, although Ahmed might as well have been dead : he sat in his seat, eyes locked on the instruments as if he was counting the metres closer they were to home, willing the ship to make it in time. He was wasting away, not eating or sleeping. And now he was dead. Which meant Hassan was alone. Alone.
        They were only a few miles out of port now, Hassan knew. If you looked over the gently undulating prow you could see the lights of Alexandria on the horizon. All he had to do was wait. Maybe only a few more minutes. Get into the bridge, turn off the autopilot and power down the engines. Slow right down, then just jump overboard into the harbour. No f*cking around. Bail, get off this death ship, swim to shore, and never set foot on a boat of any description ever again. If the police came asking him questions, fine. He could handle that, even if they thought he was responsible. If they locked him up, fine. There was none of this creepy stuff in prison. If the shipping firm sacked him, fine. He wasn't going to sea ever again anyway.
        Crong.
        Something on the metal stairs above him. He looked up in shock, not knowing how the sound could have been made : the steps led only to the bridge door. He hadn't seen anyone walk up them, and the only person in the bridge was dead. It is Ahmed! He's angry I left him to die and he's coming for me! A stupid thought, but it turned his bowels to ice water anyway. There was a figure there, almost invisible against the dark sky. He huddled against the wall, clasping his knees tighter to his chest to make himself into a tighter ball in the hope that it wouldn't see him.
        It walked down the steps, each footstep clanging w/ measured deliberation like the tolling of a death knell. It reached the deck and Hassan whimpered as the thin moon dusted the figure w/ frosty highlights. A woman, like Ahmed had said. A woman w/ wings. A demon. She turned towards him, and as soon as he saw her eyes he bolted. Just jumped up and ran for the railings, all thoughts of the engines and autopilot gone.
        "No! No! Please no!" He wasn't even aware that he was screaming. Just reach the edge and jump, no matter how far out they were, no matter how fast they were going. Jump, swim, reach the port and be safe. He ran, tripping on the rotting remains of one of the crew members. He slipped, recovered, and then a hand slammed into his back, sending him flying. He hit the deck hard, sliding and rolling to fetch up against the sidewall that had been his objective. All he had to do was stand up and jump over. He was yanked into the air and found himself not six inches from those hellish eyes.
"No! Please! Mercy! Have you no merc-"
        Sharp talons tore his throat out, turning his plea into a bubbling gurgle. "None!" Purgatori snarled. She clamped her lips to his throat and drank, emptying him quickly and passionlessly.
She was in a bad mood. She was ravenously thirsty, and her strict diet had done nothing to improve her frame of mind. She knew she had to ration herself : she didn't know how long the journey would be and she needed the men to control this behemoth, at least until she could see the Egyptian coastline. So she had sat in the hold, trying to control herself. It was fine down there, better than she had expected, and much better than what she had been used to. It was dry, warm and totally sunproof. She found a place close to the engines, and the vibrations and rhythmic thumping of the motors was strangely soothing, like a mother's heartbeat felt from the womb. She had settled down and spent the time trying to meditate, thinking of Glenn and the subject of families and trying to think of some useful plan of action for when she finally arrived in her homeland. The thirst had finally gotten the better of her and she had spent the next few days playing w/ the crew, but the fun, and the relief provided by their blood, was fleeting, unsatisfying. She was angry at being alone again, at being hungry again, at not really having come up w/ a useful plan. She would have the benefit of playing on home ground, but after four thousand years, what advantage would that be?
        She threw the body to the ground and kicked it away from her. Her eyes caught a glow and she looked over the bow. Lights ahead : a city. A thrill of excitement ran through her. Alexandria! I'm home! It was so different, the port so big. More massive ships were anchored here, and Purgatori realised they were in her way and she didn't know how to stop the Nun. It didn't bother her. She flew upwards, climbing high towards the port.
        In the bridge, the loudspeakers of the radio system crackled into life as somebody found the Nun's frequency. "Port to vessel! Identify yourself!" The speakers were good quality : they reproduced the panic in the voice perfectly. Three miles ahead, one of crewmen aboard a titanic Exxon oil tanker was leaning against the railings, looking out to sea while he enjoyed a quick cigarette. He saw the Nun. He saw the bow wave. He realised that the tanker was broadside to the ship. He ran. Screaming.
        Alarms blared over the port. The Nun came on relentlessly, heading directly for the mid-point of the tanker as though she had been specifically aimed there. The screws of the tanker began to turn, churning up the water behind her, a futile attempt to divert the inevitable.
        The prow of the Nun hit the tanker and cut through it like it was tinfoil. Metal crumpled and tore and a tidal wave of thick oil flooded out like blood. The Nun buckled and reared, twisting and shearing. Huge cargo containers were thrown across the deck like dice on a craps table. One toppled over and burst open. It was holding dozens of oxygen and acetylene canisters destined for an American construction firm that was building a luxury hotel in sight of the pyramids. Two of the canisters exploded. They set off their companions in a chain reaction that took two seconds, and the resulting fireball found the quarter-of-a-million gallons of crude oil spilling from the tanker.
        Purgatori had just dropped onto the tall spinneret of an old building a mile away when the tanker and the Nun blew themselves out of existence. The sky lit up like noon as a colossal fireball erupted in the port. Windows all around her blew inwards and she was almost knocked off her perch by the blast wave. The heat was uncomfortable even at this distance. Thick smoke billowed, choking and poisonous, and just before it smothered the port she could see people everywhere, running like ants. She could smell them cooking in the intense firestorm.
        Fire. Smoke. Torment. Just like Hell, she thought ironically. How…comforting! A slash of lightning cut the sky above her, and suddenly she was drenched to the skin as the clouds opened up like God's holy sprinkler system.
        Purgatori slouched down on the tower as people began appearing below her, not appearing to do much but mill around in confusion. This didn't exactly fit in w/ her plans to slip in quietly and unnoticed. She laughed at the sudden absurdity of the situation. Yes. Nicely done, Sakkara. Very subtle! But I've done what I wanted to achieve - no-one will know that there had been a vampire on board that ship. Alexandria…In flames…Again. Just as I remember it! Ah, it's good to be home! She laughed again, turning her face up to catch the rain. Warm rain here, not the horrible cold water she had been used to in America.
        The laughter stopped suddenly. It wasn't good to be home again, not at all. She was on edge, nervous. This wasn't even really her home any more. Yet she had no other choice. She had to lure her enemies here, draw them out and take them one by one. Take their blood. Take their powers. In America she was vulnerable, surrounded by unfamiliar buildings and places, by people who would be all too willing to help her enemies in return for money. She had no money to buy her own helpers, and anyway, there was exactly one person she would trust completely anyway. People who had to be bought for money could be bought out for even more money, and she wasn't about to put her life in the hands of people like that. At least here there weren't large numbers of reliable mercenaries, at least none that Jade or Kabala could reach easily. There was no China Town district here, to give Jade a base of countrymen to draw from, no - as far as she knew - gang of Tongs or Triads that Jade could use. Here it should be just the three of them. And although the odds were a light-year from what Purgatori would have considered acceptable, they were better than they could have been.
         Time to remove the Veil, Purgatori thought. A little shiver went through her. Trepidation, the fear of letting herself known to enemies who could easily kill her - or worse - if she gave them the chance.  Trepidation…and excitement. The thrill of a fight. She couldn't help herself. Even now, after four thousand years, she was still turned on by conflict, the arousal that came  from danger. Right back to the days when she had clashed w/ Iras, knowing that she could get hurt in a fight - or hurt by guards that Iras seduced - she had tingled w/ pleasure at the feeling of adrenaline shooting through her, at the danger, and even - it was true - at the memory of pain from other conflicts. Wolf had quoted something to her during one of their training sessions : whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger. She had thought it stupid at first, but considering it on the voyage she had understood the reasoning behind it. She had been in fights, and here she was, still around after four millennia. Yes, weaker in strength, but stronger in resolve and commitment. Her will to live was stronger than their will to kill her.
         Time to do it. Remove the Veil. Reveal her presence. Time for the face off. Do or die.
         She closed her eyes, recited a spell and felt the Veil drop from around her. She concentrated on Kabala, searching w/ a much more advanced version of the seeking power Kabala had used to find her in America, a version honed and refined over centuries.

Tanzania, Africa
         Deep in the pitch black uncharted depths of the jungle, a bonfire burned in a clearing. Her coven danced around it, a wild ecstatic victory dance celebrating their conquest of a raiding party from over the river. Kabala stood back and watched w/ approval, her coven nothing more than cavorting silhouettes against the flames. Like her, caught in the intoxication of the victory and the ritual to come, they were in a hybrid stage of their weretiger forms. Their bodies were still human, but covered w/ short fur w/ the typical orange and black markings. Their heads were feline, their canines extended radically, their eyes a blank white.
         "No Kabala! Please!"
         She raised her head and grinned at the two raiders they had left alive. They had come expecting an easy victory over a small band of cave-dwellers. They had realised their mistake and now suspected their fate. Two of her coven had yanked them high into the trees and were now hunched over them in full tiger form, pinning them over a wide gnarled limb. Big paws w/ razor sharp claws caressed them lightly, scratching and teasing.
         "Please Kabala! Show us mercy!" the other cried.
         Gibbering cowards, she thought contemptuously. She made a gesture w/ her head and the cats in the tree slashed open the men's throats. Kabala threw her arms open and let the red rain splatter over her naked body. Yesss! Such pleasure! She opened her mouth and let the blood pour down her throat as she rubbed herself, smearing hot liquid over her breasts and stomach. It was only at times like this, when the rapture completely over took her, that she could fully accept her state, and enjoy it. She loved it, and hated herself for loving it. It went against everything she had been brought up to believe in, it had caused the death of  her husband and everyone she knew. She detested Purgatori for having forced it upon her, and yet, in moments such as this she relished it. She could even -
         Kabala! Can you hear me, you witless shapeshifter!
         Kabala gasped in surprise and choked on the blood still running down her throat. Her eyes flew open at the same time and the hot salty liquid burned them. Her coven froze, instantly aware of a change in the ritual.
         "Who - Purgatori!" She focused on the psychic link and cold fear chilled Kabala as she realised Purgatori's location. She was in Alexandria! Kabala was stunned. Jade had been right. She knows we stalk her. She knows she is no match for us, and yet she challenges us! She fought the fear, trying to stop it becoming terror. She had a horrible feeling that they had vastly underestimated Purgatori. She lost control of her body and the tigerform retreated, leaving her a naked and blood-drenched human amongst werecats. She broke away from the icy shadow of Purgatori's psyche and found Jade almost immediately, her presence unexpectedly close and strong.
         Jade!
         Yes. I hear you.
         Where have you been! Purgatori has reappeared!
         Yes, I know. She thought her Veil strong enough to hide her from us completely, but I managed to get faint traces of her movements.
         Where are you?
         Alexandria - waiting for her! I sensed she was on a ship, and my informants discovered a freighter bound for Egypt. My hunch paid off.
         Be on your guard Jade! She threatens us! I will leave this instant but it will take me over a day to reach you! You know what you must do. Capture her. Learn why she made us as she did! Learn why she condemned us to this endless existence.
         I shall. I already have a trap laid.
         Good. And once we have wrung the truth from her we will make her suffer. Oh, how she will SUFFER!!

Alexandria, Egypt
         Purgatori spent the night on top of the tower, watching the fire. There were too many people thronging around to consider hunting, but luckily they had more than enough to keep their attention from wandering skywards. As she felt the approach of dawn, Purgatori flew off to look for somewhere to stay. Fortunately, Alexandria didn't have half the problems associated w/ finding a hideaway that she had encountered in a major American city. She found an old derelict warehouse on the outskirts of the town and spent the day in the attic, getting used to the rapidly growing heat of the Egyptian climate. Memories of the days under that fierce sun tormented her.
         Three hours after the moon had risen, she left the warehouse and circled above the city. She didn't know how long it would take for Jade or Kabala to arrive, but she would sense them when they neared. She wanted to spend some time exploring her home country again, exploring and seeing what had changed over the years. She wanted to see the pyramids again, maybe go down the Nile and play w/ the crocodiles again as she had done when she had first become vampiric. But all that could wait - she had more important things to attend to. The time between now and then would probably be best spent scouting the area, choosing a battleground and familiarising herself w/ the territory, and carefully feeding to keep her strength up. She was still hungry, and weaker than she would have liked.
         Something caught her attention below and she spiralled down, landing in a bazaar. The wide space was circular, the dusty ground a well-worn testament to the generations of trading that had gone on there. The wooden stalls were in various states of repair; cracked plaster and peeling paint stood jarringly next to new brick and clean canvas canopies. A few stalls had wooden barrows standing outside, which would be piled w/ fruits and vegetables, clothes and rolls of material when trading started the next day. Purgatori wandered around the bazaar, fighting the feelings of sorrow and pain. Despite the passage of time, and the new additions to the tableau such as electric streetlights and cars parked in the alleys, the market looked distressingly familiar. It wasn't too unlike the ones she had wandered w/ Ostraca, during their all-too-brief time together. She remembered walking around in a daze of wonderment, gazing at all the people and their different clothes, gaping at the bewildering cornucopia of products that the traders were selling, foods she had never seen before, exotic fruits and vegetables, a seemingly endless variety of cloths and materials of all different patterns and colours, things that just swamped the mind of a girl who had been a slave all her life and had known little of the outside world.
        Purgatori stopped by a barrow, looking down at an orange lying by its wheel. Just an orange, dropped in the dirt and considered worthless, left for whatever creature might fancy it for dinner. Worthless, but to Purgatori it raised a priceless memory. She recalled the first time she had gone shopping w/ Ostraca, the very day after they had first met, a trip to get her some new clothes. After their visit to the royal costumers they had wandered the shops, Ostraca standing back and enjoying Sakkara's childlike entrancement at all that had been going on around her. It was at that market that Ostraca had bought her an orange, and Purgatori would never forget the taste of it as she bit into it for the first time, the sweet sharp taste of the rich juice, the strong exotic smell, the feel and taste of its ripe flesh.
         Such precious memories. Such painful memories. She nudged the orange w/ the toe of her boot and then walked on sadly, her shoulders slightly drooped. Tendrils of mist curled around her ankles like friendly snakes, but in her depression she never noticed them. She walked on, unaware of the fact that she was being stalked by two completely different beings.
         Blood. She could smell blood, very faintly. Purgatori stopped, instantly on guard. Clouds were gathering overhead, rolling in fast despite the lack of wind, and gathering to form a canopy over her. What - ? And suddenly the entire world warped and shifted around her, melting and changing. The bazaar was gone. She stood on a gravel path that led to a small delicately-arched bridge that spanned a small gurgling river. Unfamiliar plants lined the road's edge, and large spreading trees swathed in mist stood placidly on the far side of the stream. A strange building rose up opposite the bridge, a tall tower made of several tiers seemingly stacked on top of each other, each level having its own sloping roof w/ turned up edges. Purgatori recognised the architecture as a pagoda, though the information did nothing to explain her situation.
         She whirled at a sound - the noise of wooden wheels on stone; a rickshaw coming over the bridge. Its ornate carriage was made of intricately carved wood, forming strange pictograms and designs, but it was the figure that was pulling the carriage that took Purgatori's attention. The large figure was dressed in a long flowing  black robes, a heavy cowl hiding the face.
         "Surrender!" The voice thrummed, echoing in her mind rather than her ears. "You are weak, demon. Surrender."
         " 'Surrender'?" Purgatori barked laughter. "Ha! You don't know me very well!" She leapt at the robed figure, her wings and the power in her legs letting her cover the distance in a blink. And still the figure moved out of her way. Purgatori slashed out at the carriage, determined to rip the doors off and see who was inside. The carriage fragmented and burst like a balloon, leaving nothing behind as if it had never existed.
         "Why did you make us, Purgatori?" The cowled stranger stood twenty metres away, no hint of the person inside the thick folds of cloth visible. Purgatori spun around, thinking the voice strangely familiar. "Why did you steal our lives?"
         Thick shadows rose up around Purgatori, enveloping her in inky blackness, and as they did so the phantom in front of her burst like the carriage had done, revealing a slim elegant figure bathed in emerald light.
         "Jade!"
         "I said, why did you make us?" Jade stepped forward, four of her small dragons coiling and hissing at her feet.
         Purgatori backed up a step to compensate, thrown off-guard by the unexpected appearance of an enemy. Jade looked angry. Angry and powerful. Confident. She's had four thousand years to prepare for her vengeance, Purgatori thought dispiritedly. But I'm depleted! I didn't expect an attack so soon! I thought it would take her days to arrive! She had underestimated them, she realised. Her spells had obviously not been strong enough to keep her hidden. "You regret the life you've led?" she snapped, trying to delay Jade while she thought up a new strategy. "You have power! You have eternal life and you blame me for that?"
         It was the wrong thing to say. Jade flared up, her blank eyes blazing. Her dragons leapt at Purgatori. "I never desired eternal life!" she snarled. Her hair whipped out in long thin strands, snapping around Purgatori's arms, legs and waist like bullwhips. "My family paid the ultimate price for what you did to me! We lost our honour!"
         Purgatori hissed as Jade's hair pulled her spread-eagled, tightening painfully. A dragon wrapped itself around each of her limbs, their long vicious teeth biting deep into her skin. She struggled harder, and they reacted, biting deeper. "Ungrateful bitch! I'll tell you nothing!"
         Jade walked over confidently, surveying her helpless victim w/ a half-sneer. "I thought not." She raised one finger, her three inch nail gleaming like a knife.
         "NO!" Purgatori knew what was coming and jerked back, a futile movement that gained her about two inches of room. Her arms strained against their bonds uselessly. She tried to kick out, and the dragons around her legs sank their claws into her skin as well.
         Jade smiled cockily, enjoying Purgatori's discomfort. "Be as stubborn as you want. Divining the answers I need is a simple matter of invading your mind." He finger touched Purgatori's temple, pressing into the skin like a needle.
         "No!" Purgatori cried again, hating her helplessness, knowing what memories would be dragged up and hating even more the emotions they would bring. The nail seemed to press through her skin and into her brain, into her very memories, a harder and more painful repeat of what she had done to Glenn Wolf. Horrible feelings of being violated, of something crude and uncaring clawing through her mind, and then something tore open and everything she had kept carefully locked away and bottled up for four millennia flooded out.

Egypt, 1386 BC
         The sun blazed down from a clear sky that was so blamelessly blue it hurt to look at it. Everything was hot. The sand was hot, the South-Westerly breeze was hot, the metal of the heavy cuffs around her wrists and ankles was hot. Sakkara paused and wiped a strand of her long hair from her face. It was four o'clock in the afternoon, and this day seemed as though it would never end. Her skin was flushed red, tender and sore. She would have trouble sleeping tonight, but that was no different from -
         The hard plaited leather of a bullwhip smashed against her back, driving her onto her belly. For a moment, the pain was so intense that her body just locked up, freezing the muscles, and then she spasmed violently w/ a cry of anguish. Scalding pain burned across her back in a thick line that ran from her left shoulder to her right hip. She could feel a trickle of liquid run down the trench of her spine. She squirmed around on the sand and saw Grypus towering over her, gathering his whip into coils for another strike.
         "Get back to work."
         Sakkara groped for her pestle, tears of pain flooding down her face. Grypus. They had killed Iras two days ago and he hadn't left Sakkara alone since. He had spent most of the first day caning her for the least little thing, and she had gone to bed that night w/out dinner. Yesterday had been much the same. No breakfast, a good hard slap across the face to get her on her way, and then she had been chained up under the glaring sun to grind corn, w/ instructions to do four baskets more than normal. There was no need for her to be out in the sun; it would have been more productive to have her by the obelisk, where another group of slaves brought the ears of corn. But, she thought angrily, putting her by the obelisk would put her comfortably in the shade for most of the day and give her a good chance of meeting her work quota, and Grypus couldn't have that, now, could he? After all, he was upset because he had lost his whore, and little Sakkara was strongly suspected of being responsible. If things had been different - if the state of the slave teams wasn't so drastic, if they hadn't lost eight people to exhaustion that week alone, leaving them undermanned at a time when the Queen was beginning to make noises about the lack of progress and starting to outline various nasty penalties for the guards if things didn't improve - Sakkara knew that he would have killed her too. Probably after raping her several times. Somehow she had managed to do what was asked, and when Grypus had seen that she had ground the extra four basketfuls he had been furious. If the overseer of the tomb project hadn't been there Anubis knew what he would have done to her, but although he had managed to make her miss her evening meal as well, she went to bed w/ no new bruises. She was starving and dispirited : now that she had proved she could do four extra baskets a day, she knew he would make that her norm, and probably make her do a couple more as well. She knew there was no way she could keep up that standard. She had been working non-stop all day today and was beginning to fall behind through exhaustion.
         She grabbed up her wooden corn grinder and looked for her bowl of corn. She had just noticed it lying upside down on the ground when the resined leather slashed across her body again. It felt like someone had spilled a line of molten lead across her backside. The tip of the whip, separated into three knotted tongues, curled around her waist and bit open the soft flesh of her belly. She howled in pain and curled up, falling on her side by his feet.
         "Clumsy bitch," Grypus said. He didn't even sound angry. He just sounded as though he was doing this because he had nothing better to do at that particular moment. He looped the whip up and swept it across her buttocks again. Sakkara cried out and grabbed at the wound. She flinched as her fingers touched the huge welt, sending another flare of pain through her body. Grypus raised the whip again. "Pick that corn up. If you miss so much as one grain I'll whip you until sundown."
         Sakkara scrambled to her knees and reached for the bowl, her movements made sluggish by the weight of her manacles. Tears flooded down her face as sobs wracked her body. This was so unfair. This bastard had no proof that she had done anything. Only Berenice had seen the whole incident, and she had said nothing, despite Sakkara's rejection. He was just upset at losing Iras and he was taking it out on someone who Iras hadn't liked. She supposed that he thought she would be revelling in Iras's demise and was offended by that. He had probably made it his mission in life to ensure she didn't receive even one second's enjoyment from the incident. This was hateful. He would work her hard, starve her, beat her freely, and there was nothing she could do about it. She turned the bowl over and began hurriedly replacing the scattered corn. Was this what her life was going to be like from now on? Pushed beyond the limits and beaten and abused even when she managed to meet her targets? Chained up in the searing sun when the others were allowed to work in the shade? Forced to miss meals even though the Queen had ordered the slave teams to be kept adequately fed so that they had the strength to work properly? She had stopped for only two seconds to brush a hair away and had been whipped for it. How could anyone live like this? Her tears fell onto her bare breasts, and seemed to soothe the sensitive flushed skin. "It would be better to die," she mumbled miserably.
         A loop of hard leather cracked across her back and she almost dropped the bowl again. "If you don't get back to work, you WILL."
         Sakkara forced her body to move. She hadn't even realised she had spoken aloud. Grypus watched her frantically scooping the corn back into the bowl, her body shaking violently w/ repressed sobs, and then the noise of some sort of altercation over by the tomb took his attention. Sakkara made sure his back was turned before slumping, allowing herself the one little luxury of letting the tears flow freely. The pain from the whip wounds was horrendous : it was a fearsome weapon, and she knew that it had torn her skin open across her back. She was bleeding, and now she would be pestered by flies for the rest of the day. Her calves and heels pressed against the welts on her thighs and buttocks where she knelt, and the pain made her light-headed. She gathered up the corn w/ shaking hands, miserable and angry. She felt like just throwing the bowl on the ground and kicking over all the baskets she has ground so far. Turning to Grypus and snarling "How do you like that, dung-heap?" Let him answer to the Queen as to why his teams were underperforming because they were hungry. He would kill her, of course, but it would almost be worth it. Almost. No - she wanted to SEE him suffer. See him maybe trampled under the feet of those big foreign animals the Queen had received as a present from some visiting royalty; the grey ones w/ the long snake-like noses and big pointy teeth sticking out the front of their mouths. Mash, pulp. She wondered if she could pull off the cobra trick w/ Grypus.
         A shadow fell over her and she jumped in fright, aware that she had been slacking again. She glanced up fearfully, waiting for a whiplash, but it wasn't Grypus. Two of the slaves from one of the teams that hauled cut stones blocks, large and very well muscled, stamped past, grumbling under their breath.
         "How much more of this are we going to take?" one of them fumed. He too had whip marks on his back, but at least, Sakkara thought enviously, he looked well-fed enough to have some meat on him to protect him a bit. She was on the borderline of emaciation.
         His companion looked around frantically. "Quiet! The guards will hear you!" he said fearfully.
         "We can take the guards!" the first man said angrily, but Sakkara saw him glance around too.
         Sakkara watched them go out of the corner of her eye as she resumed her grinding. She wasn't the only one sick of this way of life. She wondered idly if it would be at all possible to organise some kind of rebellion.

         Some few days later, Sakkara had a visitor. She lay on her mat, sleeping uneasily. She was lying on her back, the first time she had been able to w/ any degree of comfort since her encounter w/ Grypus. Since that day, things at the quarry site had deteriorated and he had had his hands full keeping things ticking over there and had left her alone. She had had no more beatings, and hadn't missed a meal. She still hadn't really made up for all the meals she had missed, but at least she had put on a little more weight, and her hunger wasn't as fierce as it had been. She shivered slightly as she slept : her skin was burnt red as usual, sore and sensitive. A howling sandstorm raged ferociously outside, making the fabric of the tent billow and flap noisily. It was cold. Everyone was huddled together in little groups of twos or threes. Everyone but Sakkara, who still didn't have a blanket. Grypus had made sure that Iras's two had been disposed of.
         The flap of the tent opened and a figure ducked inside. The wind got a hold of the flap and almost tore it out of his hands, but after a brief struggle he managed to pull it closed and secure the ties. He stood and scanned the dark forms on the floor, some of the ones nearest the entrance stirring and muttering as the clouds of sand settled around them. He saw what he wanted almost immediately and threaded his way over to the lone figure.
         "Sakkara!" he hissed. "Sakkara! Wake up!" He reached out and shook one arm of the sleeping figure.
         Sakkara felt the grip and woke up immediately, her sleep-muddled mind somehow telling her that Iras was bothering her again. "Get your hands off me!" She jerked out of the figure's grip and grabbed for its throat before she was fully awake.
         "SSHH!" the figure hissed anxiously. "Shh! I mean you no harm!"
         Sakkara blinked and saw that it wasn't Iras at all, of course it wasn't, it was a man, a man who was sadly familiar. He was old, w/ a full beard of almost pure white and that was something special in itself : the majority of slaves never reached half the age this man must be. He wore a rough brown tunic w/ a hood, odd nameless things that covered his legs like sleeves, and a strange pewter pendant hung from a length of rawhide around his neck; a cross, engraved w/ an intricate pattern of looping and overlapping lines. Sakkara knew him well : he was a healer, in charge of keeping the slaves fit enough to work. She had been to see him on many occasions - when Grypus allowed - to have her whip and cane wounds treated. He was a strange one. He spoke Egyptian fluently, but had an unfamiliar accent. His healing abilities were well renowned, and even the guards respected him and were treated by him. In return they mostly left him alone, allowing him to wear his strange clothes and symbols instead of having to strip almost naked like the other slaves. Sakkara suspected most people were slightly afraid of him too - anyone who wore heavy robes in the desert heat wasn't of a sound mind, and his manner and piercing gaze made people wary. Some slaves has whispered that his healing powers came from dark magic, but Sakkara treated these rumours w/ scorn : the slaves' stupid superstitions annoyed her. He had either learned it somewhere, or it was a natural gift, like her strange control over reptiles, the power she had used to easily pick up the cobra and put it in the wine jug. He showed no fear of the guards either, and that made Sakkara respect him rather than fear him. She let go of his robe and glanced around to see if he had awoken anyone.
         "I know a way towards freedom," he whispered. Sakkara's gaze snapped back to him at that word and he smiled a thin-lipped smile. "Why should only kings and queens achieve immortality? We all want immortality. I know how to get it! I can tell you how!"
         Imm-? Sakkara blinked tiredly. Was this some kind of joke? "If you know, old man, why don't you go and get it and let me get some sleep?"
         "I'm too old to benefit," he said, ignoring the sarcasm. "But you…you would be perfect. I know he would empower you! Imagine - eternal life!"
         Sakkara's eyes gleamed. Eternal life? If this one was anything to judge by, she could think of nothing worse. But that other word : empower. Power. Yes… my, what she could do w/ power. How she could make all these bastards pay for how they had treated her. She looked at him, weighing him up, wondering whether this old man could really be her director to salvation and revenge...Old man…The implication of his gender suddenly struck her and she snatched a glance at the tent entrance. "Are you mad, old man? This is the women's tent! Do you know what the guards will do if they find you here?!"
         "The guards don't bother me, I -"
         "They bother me old man!" Sakkara hissed. "I've had more than enough whippings, as you yourself should know. Go, before someone comes! I'm not keen to get another lashing for mixing w/ men."
         The man held her gaze for a second then stood up. "Come to me when you realise I'm right," he said, and turned to go.
         Sakkara couldn't help herself. "Old man!…Why me?"
         He turned back, his gaze almost reverent, and somehow frightening. "I've been watching you Sakkara. There's a fire in your eyes that could light all of Egypt."
         And then he was gone in a gust of wind and swirl of sand.
         Sakkara looked after him then lay back down, gazing blankly at the canvas roof above her. There's a fire in your eyes that could light all of Egypt. It was a phrase that ran continuously through her mind until she drifted back to sleep hours later.

         Sakkara trudged across to the storage urns and carefully emptied her basket of ground corn into the nearest one, making damn sure she didn't spill any of it. It was a struggle : Grypus had decided to fit an extra long length of thick chain to her wrist manacles and she was dragging almost ten kilograms of rough iron on each side. She needed to move around, so he couldn't shackle her to a rock, but this neatly prevented her from running off anywhere. Her shoulders ached abominably, and the muscles in her arms shook w/ effort. She put her basket down and trudged across to the Sphinx, where another team of girls stacked fresh baskets of corn to be ground. They didn't talk to her. Nobody liked to fraternise w/ a slave who was in the guards' bad-books because that sort of trouble tended to rub off, but Sakkara reckoned they were just using that as an excuse. She didn't really care - it actually wasn't too much different from normal. She entered the monolith's shadow gratefully, and sighed at the delicious cool it provided.
         Over in the distance, one of the big obelisks was getting hauled upright. It was an awe-inspiring sight. The gargantuan needle was wrapped in a cobweb of thick rope and was being slowly raised into a vertical position by a huge team of slaves. It was the biggest obelisk in Egypt, some said, the result of fourteen months of cutting and carving. Sakkara didn't know about the rest of Egypt, but it was surely one of the biggest stone blocks she had ever seen, beautifully carved and polished as smooth as a mirror. She picked up a new basket and watched the men for a moment, struggling and heaving to drag countless tons of stone into the air for the whim of a Queen. If they let it fall and destroyed it, they would all die; very nastily, probably. The Queen had the power to do that.
        Power. Again, that word. A word that had begun to circle Sakkara's head like a vulture over a kill. She had started to obsess over the concept of power. Power was, she reasoned, the ultimate aspiration. W/ enough power, you could do anything. Freedom? Pah. You could be free, but have nothing. Power could give you freedom, but freedom couldn't necessarily give you power. Money? Pah. W/ enough power, money became redundant. W/ power, you could do what you wanted. You could make people do whatever you wanted. You could punish people who had hurt you.
         Power. What a fine concept. Sakkara wanted power. Lots of power. What would I do w/ power? she mused as she tramped back to her workplace, detouring as far as she dared to a clump of palms to snatch a few seconds' more shade. I would start by taking Grypus and skinning him alive, and then rub him w/ salt. I would build myself a palace - no, a city! - a city where I would be ruler, where everyone would do what I said. I would -
         Wrapped up in her fantasy, Sakkara stepped out from behind the palms, right into the path of a speeding chariot. Her heart almost stopped in terror, and she shrieked helplessly. All she seemed to see were hooves, huge iron-shod hooves that would mash her into the ground. She dropped her basket, scattering corn everywhere and leapt frantically out the way. She heard a shouted oath from the driver, heard the outraged whinnying of the horses, saw them rear up almost w/in touching distance, those frightening hooves pawing the air. She felt her shoulders jar as the heavy chains dragged her back like an anchor - I'm not going to make it!! -  and then she was flat on her face, a hard sandstone outcropping jabbing her belly, the thunder of the dancing horses behind her. She looked at her arms and saw them bleeding badly - the rough manacles had raked the skin off her forearms and the wounds were packed w/ sand from her fall.
         "Guard! Punish that slave for being in my way! NOW!"
         Female voice : Sakkara jerked around in terror as her shock abated enough to finally let her mind work. There was, of course, only one female who would be around here in a chariot : Queen Ostraca. Sakkara scrambled around, trying to get up to face her and maybe try and beg her forgiveness, but the chains had wrapped around her and  she fell on her stomach again. She stared up at the huge guard who jumped down from the chariot brandishing a vicious looking horsewhip and thought dismally that if that was all the Queen did to her, she would get on her knees and give thanks to Isis right then and there as she was being whipped. Sweet Anubis look at that thing! It will cut me like a blade!
         "Guard, halt!"
         Sakkara hardly dared raise her eyes. Halt? Why? Had the Queen something better planned? Perhaps she wanted to whip Sakkara herself. She cowered down as she saw the whip rise.
         "I said HALT!"
         Sakkara looked up, flinching at the expression on the guards face. He was furious - if the Queen hadn't given him a direct order, he probably would have whipped Sakkara to death. He glared down at her, the tremble in his big muscles coming from rage. "As you wish," he managed through gritted teeth, the scant minimum of respect showing in his tone.
         "Stand before me girl." The Queen stepped down and walked over to her, her eyes flicking over Sakkara's near-naked body. What an exquisite creature, she thought breathlessly. Her beauty, her eyes…mesmerising!
         Sakkara struggled to her feet and stood trembling, her head bowed, waiting for her fate to be announced. A soft hand took one of her own and lifted her arm slightly, and unbelievably she felt a silken cloth pressed to the cut on her forearm.
         "Here, let me help you." W/out the fury in the tone, the voice was delightfully smooth, and quite seductive. "What is your name?"
         "S-Sakkara," she stammered. She glanced up at the Queen, getting her first close look at this frightening, powerful person. She was beautiful, her skin almost as pale as Sakkara's own, her lips full and succulent, painted a vivid scarlet. Sakkara dropped her eyes, force of habit making her think that she might get punished for having the impudence to look a Queen in the eye, and her eyes fell to Ostraca's breasts. They were beautifully rounded and firm, barely hidden behind a thin dress of gossamer silk. Sakkara blushed slightly and dropped her eyes to her own hand. If the Queen might punish her for looking her in the face, Horus knew what she would do if she caught a slave gazing at her breasts.
         "That's a beautiful name," Ostraca almost sighed, and Sakkara could hear the truth in her words. She gently wiped the blood from Sakkara's arm and fingered the manacle as though seeing it for the first time. "Unshackle her," she snapped at the nearest guard, suddenly nothing but a Queen again. "She will be mine!" She whirled and strode back to the chariot, leaving Sakkara blinking in confusion.
         Wh-what? Was she dreaming? Apparently not, for one of the guards who had been watching over her came and unlocked her bonds. W/ the metal removed her arms felt so light she thought they might just float up into the sky. She looked at her bare arms in a daze. She will be mine! What did that mean? Did she just want Sakkara as a servant or maid, or did she want her as a plaything for her torture rooms or dungeon? No…Sakkara had to admit that the Queen seemed sincere. But what exactly did that mean? What was she going to do w/ her? Make her a hand maiden? A personal aide? It didn't matter : from now on - unless she messed up or the Queen got bored w/ her - Sakkara would be living in the palace. The palace! She would -
         "Get back to the pits old man! There's no need for you here!"
         Sakkara looked around at the guard's call and saw that her strange visitor had appeared as if from nowhere. He stood watching the scene, his face hidden in shadow by his raised cowl.
         "Remember, if you need me, I will be here," he said, ignoring the guard.
         "Need you?" Sakkara asked. "I am the Queen's property now!" At least, I hope I am. "Why would I need you?"
         The man regarded her for a second and then turned and began walking towards the quarry. For the briefest moment the sun lit his face and Sakkara thought she saw an expression there that looked like sadness. "Don't forget."
         Sakkara watched him walk away, and then the large guard took her roughly by the arm and led her towards the chariot.

        Sakkara lay back in the hot water and thought she must be dreaming. It was early evening and her mind was whirling w/ so many emotions and experiences that she couldn't believe that what was happening to her was real. She could almost convince herself that she had passed out under the broiling sun, and this was all some sort of hallucination.
        She had been taken to the palace on the Queen's chariot and the very experience of moving that fast was dizzying, and quite frightening. The horses made her nervous, but the Queen had reached out and taken her hand at some point in the journey, and after that Sakkara couldn't concentrate on anything else. When they had reached the palace Ostraca had dismounteted immediately and vanished through one of the golden doors, and Sakkara had been left w/ the glowering guard in the courtyard of the palace. Everything was so big! Clean and crisp, every last grain of sand swept from the polished granite tiles. Two stable-hands took the chariot away and the driver went w/ them, much to Sakkara's relief. Five minutes later two servants appeared and took her to a small room adjoining the kitchen, and Sakkara sat down to probably the first proper meal of her life. It was simple and unexciting,  but it was filling and nutritious, and there was as much as she wanted. When she finished her food, she had looked hungrily at the bowls on the table, and w/out a word the servants had restocked her plate! It was incredible! She had gotten through most of the second plateful and found, shockingly, that she couldn't eat any more. It was such an alien feeling that she just sat and looked at the food numbly. It didn't seem possible that there was a plate w/ food on it in front of her and she was just going to leave it to be thrown away. That was unthinkable : even when she had been sick she had eaten her food, even if it meant throwing up some time later - as a slave you learned very quickly to eat what you could when you could. She had to forcibly curb thoughts of how to smuggle the food out of the kitchen to save for later.
        The servants had let her sit, refilling her glass w/ fresh milk whenever it got low and these were another couple of new things for her to contend w/ : she had never had anything but water to drink before, and she had never had the experience of sitting around w/ nothing to do before. She couldn't stop herself looking around now and again, to see if Grypus had materialised behind her w/ his whip in his hand and a big pleased grin on his face at having found Sakkara slacking again. He never turned up, and Sakkara sat in silence, drinking in the homeliness of the place. This was obviously the servants' dining room, and it pleased Sakkara more that the main dining room would have, simply because it was more suited to her current mentality : she was a slave, and this was plain servant quarters. The main hall was for royalty, and as a slave, all that opulence and decoration made her nervous. If she spilt some of her milk on this wooden table, someone would wipe it up. If she spilt some on the huge circular table in the main hall and stained the embroidered satin tablecloth, she would probably spend the next fortnight eating her meals standing up. No, this place was safer, and…cosier. Yes, cosy. It was cool, protected from the sun's heat by the thick stone walls, and it was filled w/ the delicious smell of cooking bread as the servants prepared for the Queen's evening meal. She closed her eyes, wallowing in the bliss of inertia. Nothing to do, no-one to punish her for it. She felt she could put her head down on the table and go to sleep right there and then. The cool air was beautifully soothing on her reddened skin, so different from the desert climate she had been used to - either baking heat or freezing cold and seemingly nothing in between. She felt strangely safe here. There was no-one around but servants, people of her own kind, and though she had learned from her experiences w/ Iras that even slaves could form their own nasty hierarchies, the ones in here seemed content to leave her be. They weren't making any effort to befriend her either, but that was something Sakkara was well used to.
        Sakkara had never had a home before, and she wondered if this was what it felt like : to have a place you could come back to and stay, a place full of people who wouldn't beat you for the least reason. A place that you could eat in, and sleep in and hide from the sun in. A place where you could just sit and do nothing in, and not get whipped for it. A place you could go inside, and shut out all the people who didn't like you and wanted to hurt you.
        She had sat for a long time, just relaxing, and then three girls had come for her. Three beautiful girls. They were young, probably the same age as Sakkara, and dressed simply, but their clothes were crisp and clean and Sakkara felt like a ragged street urchin next to them. Their behaviour made her nervous at once : they were being nice to her. They came in and looked her over, almost inspecting her, and Sakkara, topless and unkempt and wearing dirty rags, had felt acutely embarrassed. They just giggled at her flushed face and then oohed and aahed over her gauntness and the wounds on her arms. They had led her from the kitchen through long marble-floored corridors that had finally brought her here; the bathing room. It was huge, tiled w/ polished stone, and lit by large torches and groups of coloured candles. In the middle of the room was a rectangular pool of  fragrant water, steaming slightly. The girls had stripped off and Sakkara had gaped at them, blushing harder. She had, of course, seen naked girls before, but they had all been slaves, unclean and thin, often blemished w/ sores or whip marks. These girls were absolutely beautiful, fully formed and ripe w/ youth, spotlessly clean. They had laughed at Sakkara's expression again, but there was no malice in the laugh and she had taken no offence. She was entranced by them. They seemed to be of all different nationalities, and one was fascinating : she had yellow hair! Sakkara couldn't take her eyes off it. The blonde had looked back through lowered eyelids, enjoying the attention. And then she had come over and removed Sakkara's clothes. Sakkara had been trembling, though whether it was w/ embarrassment or arousal she couldn't tell. The girls had cooed over her fading cane and whip marks and then they had led her into the pool. It was deep, it was hot, it was ecstasy. The girls had played for a while, splashing her w/ water and such like, but the concept of playing was so foreign to Sakkara that she hadn't been able to respond. They seemed to understand and just left her to soak in the almond-scented water, chattering gaily and talking happily w/ her. Sakkara felt an attraction to the girls; they were potential friends, people who didn't know her but were talking and laughing and joking w/ her all the same. They were all servants here, and none of them seemed to be like Iras, w/ an inborn need to dominate everyone and pick on certain individuals.
        Sakkara lay back w/ her eyes closed, listening to them chatter away as they washed each other. Was it really true? Could she finally have what she had always dreamt of? A job in the palace as one of the Queen's maids, and actual proper friends? Friends who wanted to be her friend because they liked her, not because they wanted her to protect them or something?
        "Come on Sakkara. Your turn."
        Sakkara opened her eyes and looked at the pretty blonde, who was called Diana. "My turn for what?"
        "For washing, you silly girl," Diana laughed happily. She waded over to Sakkara and pulled her to her feet.
        "What are you doing?" Sakkara said nervously, suddenly surrounded by the naked girls.
        "You must be clean, Sakkara," Alexandra said. She lifted one of Sakkara's arms and ran a soft soapy sponge along it.
        Sakkara twisted away shyly. "No! I can wash myself!"
        Diana slapped her bottom lightly. "Don't be silly, girl," she admonished kindly. She wiped her own sponge across Sakkara's chest, leaving a thick trail of suds on her tingling breasts. "She adores absolute cleanliness."
        "She will tolerate nothing less," Octavia murmured.
        Sakkara tried to pull away again, and Diana smacked her again, nothing more than a playful pat. "Dear me, you are naughty aren't you? Behave yourself girl! We have to bathe and dress you. You don't want us to get in trouble w/ the Queen, now, do you?"
        "…no…" Sakkara mumbled in confusion. She relented, not wanting to do anything that might drive her new friends away. If standing naked in a warm bath and letting three nude girls soap her and wash her hair was what she had to endure to keep them happy, then so be it. She stood in the steam, her entire body tingling now, the ache in her muscles banished by some delightful new feeling she couldn't identify.
        They soaped her thoroughly w/ soft sponges that felt wondrously sensuous on her skin, and then washed her long black hair w/ some sort of special oils. They pulled her out of the water and dried her off w/ large fluffy towels that were soft as clouds. Their gentle stroking and soft caresses had Sakkara panting by the time she was dry. Diana whispered something to the others and they all giggled. Sakkara didn't mind. They pulled on their clothes and led the still-naked Sakkara through to another room that had a large mirror on one wall and a wooden box on a low table. Sakkara gazed at herself in the mirror, the first time she had ever done so. Her face was as beautiful as she remembered, but her body was dismal compared to her nubile young friends : she was thin - scrawny, to be perfectly frank - and her skin was still ravaged by sunburn and wounds. She had potential though : her legs were long and slim, her waist narrow and her stomach flat, her breasts nicely shaped and well proportioned. W/ a few weeks of good feeding, she would develop nicely.
        "You must be dressed in the finest fabric," Octavia said, opening the box. She pulled out a dress that made Sakkara gape.
        "She relishes the touch of silk," Diana sighed, wrapping the garment around Sakkara and tying it at her hip. Sakkara ogled at her reflection. The robe had a low neckline that exposed her cleavage and the binding at her hip left one leg almost completely bare. It didn't really matter though, Sakkara thought breathlessly, because she was naked underneath, and the silk was so fine and thin that it was almost transparent. She looked as though the girls had clothed her in mist.
        And just when she was getting over that, Alexandra went back to the box and brought out something that took her breath away once again : jewellery. It wasn't extravagant or even overly exotic, just polished engraved gold, but for a slave who had worn nothing but rags and bruises they might as well have been the Queen's own jewels.
        The girls combed her hair, pinned it back w/ a golden band and then threaded her tresses at the back w/ hundreds of tiny golden beads. They decorated her w/ earrings, bracelets, toerings and a fabulous necklace engraved w/ scarabs. They put makeup on her, black eye-liner and ruby lipstick, and when Sakkara looked in the mirror she thought she would cry w/ delight.
        The door to the room opened and another young girl looked in. "The Queen is ready for you."
        Sakkara's heartbeat speeded up as the girls led her through the dark palace. This was it. The Queen was probably going to look her over and decide whether or not Sakkara was worthy of being a maid. If not, it would probably be straight back to the slave tent for her, to endure the crushing rejection, the ridicule of the slaves who would laugh at her, and no doubt the tender ministrations of Grypus. Sakkara squared her shoulders. No. She would not allow that to happen. She would not make any mistakes.
        What if she's just been playing w/ me? What if this has just been an elaborate joke, like Grypus and the blanket? What if they take me into a room and the Queen is sitting there w/ her chief torturer? Panic fluttered over her : no, that couldn't possibly be true...could it? Could these new friends of hers possibly have just been accomplices in a nasty trick? She slowed down and looked at Diana in panic as they approached a massive pair of doors that appeared to be faced w/ solid gold.
        Diana looked at her, and there was no hint of impending betrayal on her face. "The Queen is gentle," she whispered cryptically, "but let her be in control."
        "I…I don't understand," Sakkara stuttered. Let the Queen be in control? How could the Queen be anything but in control?
        "You will," Diana whispered, and flashed Sakkara a smile that made her feel nice and warm.
        They were at the entrance now, and two immense guards pulled the doors open to reveal a dimly lit chamber. Diana gave Sakkara's hand a brief squeeze and then she was gone. Sakkara stood in the corridor, her thoughts whirling, then w/ a deep breath she stepped inside before she could ruin everything before it had started by irritating the Queen by making her wait.
        It was a bedroom. A magnificent, royal bedroom. The floor was covered w/ large tiles of marble, polished to mirror finish. A statue of the Horus falcon, taller than Sakkara, stood to her right, its gold finish glowing softly in the mellow light of flames that came from wide shallow bowls of burning oils. In the centre of the dim room was the bed. Sakkara had never slept on a bed before, never mind one like this. It was vast. Pillars rose from each corner, supporting a canopy and curtains of silk. The bed sheets also appeared to be made of silk and satin, and everything was dyed in delicately contrasting  hues of light and dark blue. Ostraca was lying face down on the bed, propped up on one elbow.
        "Come to me Sakkara."
        Sakkara glanced around the room to see if there were any torturers hiding in the shadows. But then, what could she have done about it even if there was? She would never get past the guards by the door if she tried to run. Hesitantly, she walked over to the bed, and as she got closer all thoughts of torture and betrayal were pushed out of her head by what she saw as Ostraca knelt up on the bed.
        The Queen was dressed in a robe of the same material as Sakkara's own, except she hadn't bothered to close it. It hung open like a cape, leaving her fabulous body exposed. She was naked. Her hair had been plaited into many thin cords and she wore a golden circlet of her own on her head. Sakkara stopped and gaped at the Queen, helpless to avert her gaze.
        "Closer girl."
        Sakkara heard the tiny edge to the voice and moved instantly, regardless of whether it would get her a slap across the face, or something worse, for eyeing up the Queen. She walked right up to the bed and when the Queen reached out her hand she flinched slightly. Ostraca stroked her knuckles over Sakkara's cheek. Sakkara jumped and looked up. The Queen's eyes were gleaming. She was looking over every inch of Sakkara's body, and her expression made Sakkara giddy. Nobody had ever looked at her like that before. It made her blush. She was embarrassed at the frank attention to her scantily clad body, and yet she felt…something else, something she had sometimes felt when she looked at Berenice, but never to this degree.
        Ostraca's hands cupped her cheeks, then slipped around to cradle the back of her skull, and she leaned forward and kissed her. Sakkara froze, terrified. What was she supposed to do? Those lips; so soft, so warm, so delicious. She couldn't help herself. Before she knew what she was doing she slipped her arms around Ostraca's slim body and pulled herself to her, returning the kiss as best she knew how, having only descriptions from overheard conversations to help her. She felt hands stroking her hair, nails running down the nape of her neck, making her shiver.
        Ostraca pulled away and smiled at Sakkara. In one easy shrug she shed her gown and knelt before Sakkara completely naked except for her jewellery, then lay back on the bed, her skin burning golden in the light from the flames. She looked at Sakkara, still standing rigid and frightened and smiled the softest and most beautiful smile she had ever seen. "Relax," the Queen purred quietly. Her tone was friendly and understanding, no hint of annoyance or displeasure. "There is nothing to fear. Come here my darling, give in to me."
        Sakkara climbed onto the bed in a daze. Darling? When had she ever been somebody's darling? Never. She tried to untie her own robe and her fingers were shaking so much that it took her three attempts. She finally got it and the silk slipped down her body like the stroke of a feather. She knelt in front of the Queen and watched her expression as she drank in Sakkara's body. This person loved her. She was a good judge of moods and expressions, a talent that had served her well as a slave : she could glance at a guard and know whether he was in the mood to whip someone just on general principles, or if he was just trying to look mean to intimidate the slaves and avoid having to do any proper work. She could tell when the other slaves didn't want her around - which was most of the time -  or if they would tolerate her presence w/out causing trouble or picking a fight w/ her. She had found someone who loved her. Someone who would protect her. Someone who was beautiful. Someone w/ power. She reached out and stroked the Queen's calf and realised she couldn't feel the ache in her arms or the burn on her skin any more.
        "Give in to the pleasures of the flesh," Ostraca sighed.
        Sakkara did.

        Purgatori writhed in the grip of Jade's demons, desperately trying to get away from those prying fingers that were burrowing into her memories. "S-STOP!" She sounded so helpless it angered her. This was utter torment. The memories and emotions getting dredged up were worse than the violation of Jade's prying magick. It was hateful.
        Jade clenched her eyes shut for a moment, her head reeling from the senses and feelings she had been subjected to. Everything Sakkara had been through, she had been through, feeling the pain of the whippings, the sorrow of rejection and loneliness, the tentative bliss of finally finding someone to love her. Her hated enemy had appeared to her as nothing more than a poor unloved outcast and for some reason Jade felt a pang of sorrow for her. Could it be that the frightening creature that had erupted into her life and condemned her to eternal bloodlusting existence had once been a scared little nobody that seemingly everyone hated, and who wanted nothing but a friend? No. I refuse to…to see her like that! She - she cursed me! I want to know why!
        "Stop?" Jade murmured. "We haven't even started yet." What had all this lovey-dovey stuff w/ the Queen got to do w/ her creation? Yet it must be relevant, because she had set her mind-probe to look for a particular subject and this is what it had returned w/.
        Jade shook her head to clear her thoughts and pressed deeper.

        "Wear this Sakkara, and know we are married now." Ostraca held Sakkara's hand in her own and slipped a ring onto her finger. "We are as one."
        Sakkara gave a gasp of pleasure as she saw the ring. It was a winged scarab made of polished gold, absolutely gorgeous and exquisite. But more than that, it was hers. Her own gold ring. The jewels she had worn on her first night w/ the Queen had been borrowed - they had been taken off her the next day - but this was hers. To keep. A present. A present. She threw her arms around Ostraca and hugged her tightly, afraid she might start crying from sheer pleasure.
        "Come. Let us bathe," Ostraca said.
        They went to the Queen's bathing room. It was similar in layout to the servants' room but much bigger and more opulent. Thick carved pillars supported the painted ceiling and small fountains splashed placidly by the windows. They took each other's clothes off and then waded into the hot water. It was late at night : the moon was up, and shining through the windows like a polished pearl. As usual, the Queen soaped and washed Sakkara, slowly and sensuously, paying close attention to every square centimetre of her body. In the two months that had passed, Sakkara had  fulfilled, and indeed exceeded, her potential for beauty. Good nutrition and decent amounts of food had filled her body out and developed her figure fully. Her long hair was no longer a dusty matt black : it gleamed now, shining w/ the slight blue hint of a raven's wing. Out of the sun and rid of any remaining bruises and whip weals her skin had become silk smooth and an unblemished creamy white. Her lips were no longer chapped and rough w/ sunburn and lack of vitamins, they were ripe and full and endlessly kissable, as Ostraca demonstrated most nights. Her one regret was that Iras had not lived to see her like this.
        Slight scratching of a well soaped sponge on her chest, the lick of hot water running over her breasts and stomach, the tickle of firm fingers running lovingly over her skin.
        "What's wrong, my pretty?" the Queen whispered directly into her ear. The barest brush of her lips against Sakkara's ear made her pulse race.
        "Wrong?"
        Fingertips trailed down her back. "You're all tensed up. What worries you?"
        "Nothing, my Queen."
        The fingers stopped. "Tell me."
        Sakkara heard the tone and realised that she had made the mistake of trying to brush off the Queen's attention. Much as she adored Sakkara, Ostraca was still the Queen, and still demanded to be in authority. She had proved quite willing to discipline Sakkara for any misdeed, and although the sessions were always followed by excessive amounts of lovemaking and forgiveness Sakkara had learned that Ostraca's affection for her could not be used to usurp her authority or ignore her demands. Much as she sometimes enjoyed the sting of the back of the Queen's hairbrush, she wasn't in the mood for a spanking tonight, and she was conscious of the fact that if the Queen got the feeling that this particular maid was disobedient a little too often she would find herself back in the slave tents in very short time. She wouldn't let that happen. Ever.
        "The commoners are up in arms, my Queen," Sakkara said.
        There was a pause, and then the fingers resumed their caressing. "Don't worry yourself, my dear," the Queen said dismissively.
        Sakkara swallowed. She needed to tell the Queen of her worries, but she didn't want to annoy her by pressing a subject that Ostraca felt was beneath her attention. She turned around and read Ostraca's face, determining whether or not she could press the topic w/out finding herself over the Queen's knee. "There were two of the slaves in the market today, buying supplies. They said there is real threat of a riot out at the tombs."
        Ostraca looked at Sakkara, unmoving. Sakkara took the hint but dared to make one last comment.
        "Too many subjects die building your tomb."
        The Queen sighed. "You are no longer a slave Sakkara. I understand that you still may have some allegiance to your friends at the slave camps, but they are of no concern to you now."
        Sakkara was careful not to show the disappointment in her face as she heard the Queen's words. She had been afraid of this. She had known that the building of a grand tomb was as important to the Queen as it was to every ruler, but it was only when she had begun to live w/ Ostraca that she had realised how insanely obsessive the Queen was about the subject. She was fanatical about entering the afterlife and making a good impression to the gods, so much so that everything else in her kingdom took second place to the building of her tomb. She didn't seem to realise that even as powerful as she was, she was only ruler because the people allowed it. If they decided the cost in both money and lives was too much then they would rebel, and maybe even the might of the army would not be enough to stop them. Egypt had a long and bloody history of overthrown rulers, but Ostraca didn't seem to pay any attention to the fact that she might one day find herself being torn apart by a baying mob. "I have no allegiance to the slaves, my Queen. I speak of my fear for you. If the people are unhappy they might stop building your tomb."
        That cold glare again, but fortunately fleetingly brief. "Let me worry about the people, my sweet. They will complete my tomb and I will ascend to the gods. And you, my darling, will come w/ me. You will be w/ me forever, Sakkara."
        Forever, Sakkara thought. Immortal, like the gods. Not so long ago, the thought of immortality had filled her w/ horror, because back then it would have meant immortality as a whipping girl. Now, w/ someone who loved her deeply and would give her most anything she asked for, an eternal lifetime didn't seem long enough.

        Purgatori ground her teeth together, the muscles in her jaws and cheeks aching. She could feel tears on her cheeks. Jade would think they were from the pain of the probe, and she would be right, but for the wrong reasons. Waves of emerald power washed over her, tightening her bonds as she struggled. This was damnable, abhorrent. How much longer could she tolerate reliving all this pain? I must stop this! Cut the memory flow! How?

        It was a stormy night. Sakkara ducked into the palace entrance and a guard slammed the door shut on the rain. She had been out in a chariot, doing nothing but roaming around aimlessly, enjoying the feeling of speed and enjoying seeing parts of the city and countryside she had never known existed. The Queen had seemed rather remote this afternoon. She had told Sakkara that she had a meeting to attend and advised Sakkara to entertain herself this evening. In other words, go away and don't dare disturb me. Sakkara went. Now that she was familiar and comfortable w/ the horses, she spent many hours exploring the city, relishing the travel and the way that people got out of her way in a hurry when they saw her transport. She had been w/ the Queen a year now, and she still didn't think she would ever get bored w/ the travelling, either the royal visits and appointments or her own directionless wanderings. It was just one of the many perks of a life that had become pure bliss.
        The clouds had been gathering rapidly so she had cut her drive short, deciding to go back and see if she could kill a few hours w/ Diana if Ostraca was still busy. The rain had come just as she dismounted and she ran for the palace, leaving the groom to deal w/ the chariot and the horses. She was only in the rain for a matter of seconds, but by the time she got through the door she was drenched, and her silk dress clung snugly to her body, soaked into transparency. She fielded the approving look from the guard w/ a pleased smile and headed for the maids' quarters.
        The kitchen rooms were empty. The bathing room was empty. Sakkara frowned and walked along to the main harem room, where all the girls would congregate to chat and read and  play around. Lightning slashed down as she passed the open gap of one of the windows and she skirted around a growing puddle of water where the rain was blowing in. Why hadn't the shutters been put up? That would put the Queen in a foul mood. She went further along the corridor and saw that the window opposite the harem door hadn't been shuttered either. What was the matter w/ these girls? Did they want a flogging or something?
        Sakkara turned into the harem and skidded to a stunned stop.
        Everyone was dead.
        She gaped in horror, her mouth hanging open. Whatever had happened had not been pleasant. The girls were lying askew in ungainly heaps. They had been hacked and slashed. Dark splashes were splattered all over the walls like abstract paintings and the floor was virtually carpeted in blood.
        Here was Octavia, her throat slashed to the bone.
        Alexandra, a savage ragged hole beneath her breasts.
        There was Diana, her bulging eyes rolled up and her fabulous golden hair matted into a tangled scarlet mush.
        "NOOOOO!!" The scream scraped past her dry mouth and seemed to profane the scene, as though the noise would disturb the dead.
        "Grab her!"
        Sakkara shrieked at the voice, thinking one of the corpses had taken offence at her continued existence. Two of the biggest men she had ever seen materialised out of the gloom and grabbed her, locking her arms painfully, holding her easily. Each of them was at least three times her weight, all of it muscle. They were dressed in the uniform of the Queen's personal elite troops. They lifted her off her feet w/out any effort and dragged her into the room, and there, standing in the shadows of one of the thick basalt pillars was General Ramses. And Ostraca.
        Ostraca's eyes were haunted. They fixed on Sakkara and she moved forward, but the General put an arm out to stop her. "As we agreed - no-one must come before me! ALL your lovers must be killed!"
        Sakkara struggled wildly. There was a dagger at her throat : she felt it puncture her as she writhed. "What! My Queen what's happened!"
        Ostraca wrung her hands in anguish. "I - I've made an agreement Sakkara. I'm to marry the General at the end of the month. The people are nearing rebellion and I need the troops to keep order."
         "How could you do this?" Sakkara sobbed. "We're married!" All her friends, dead. Slaughtered. Her life, her fabulous life, cast away. Her lover had shunned her. Spurned her. Betrayed her. When everything had been put in the balance, the person whom she had fallen in love w/ had decided that Sakkara was worthless,  meaningless.
         "Marriage to a slave isn't binding," one of the guards holding her spat contemptuously. "You have no concept of the issues at play here girl!"
         "I do love you," Ostraca grieved, her eyes unable to meet Sakkara's, "but I must be assured of immortality! I must have my tomb finished!"
         Worthless. Meaningless. She was nothing. She meant nothing. Everything she had believed about the Queen's feelings for her had been a lie. She had been cast aside like a used rag. The Queen had used her for pleasure like a cheap whore and then spurned her.
         Rage, scalding hot rage, swept through her veins. Her sapphire eyes blazed at the Queen, standing there w/ her head hanging down in some pitiful imitation of remorse. One of the guards holding her let go, and she saw out the corner of her eye that he was reaching for his sword. She drove her head back hard, and felt the back of her skull smack into the face of the other guard. There was a sound like the cracking of a walnut and she felt her hair dampen w/ blood from a broken nose. The guard made a choked squawk and reached for his face : the instant Sakkara felt the grip on her arm slacken, she drove her elbow into his stomach. He doubled up w/ a woof.
        She squirmed w/ a strength born of her fury and suddenly she was free, much to the surprise of the guards. She wasted no time. She had been working her whole life, trudging miles each day, usually weighed down w/ some load or other or her chains : if being a slave had had one single advantage, it was that it had made her fit. The guards had probably been expecting some soft girl used to an easy life, not some hardened worker who had had to fight for her meals or a sleeping space on many occasions. She sprinted for the door and was halfway across the large room before anyone else moved.
        "Bitch!" she snarled over her shoulder. "You won't take my life! I'll take it myself!" She headed straight for the open window opposite the door.
        Many times through her life, before she buried most of these memories deep w/in her, she wondered why things had happened the way they did. She did believe in the gods and goddesses, and worshipped Isis above all. She had spent her slavelife hoping and trying to believe that Isis was watching over her, a belief that had been difficult due to the hardships she had had to endure.  Nevertheless, she tried to keep her faith, and every once in a while something happened to restore her faith and make her trust that the goddess was still keeping an eye on her. She wondered whether what had happened had been pure chance, or whether someone had been protecting her, or whether things had happened the way they had happened due to her part in some great cosmic plan. Because she had sprinted at an open window high up in a building and by all logical accounts she should have sailed out of that window and smashed herself to death on the ground some forty feet below.
        She ran for the open window, a lightning flash illuminating it as though the gods wanted to light her way to her doom. She meant to run up to the sill and use the strength in her legs to push herself off and soar out as far away from that detestable room as she could manage before crashing to earth. She failed miserably. Her foot came down in a puddle of rain water, blown in through the open gap by the gusting wind, and on the polished floor of the corridor it was like stepping on a plate of ice. She skidded radically, misstepping and losing a great deal of her inertia, pinwheeling her arms to keep her balance and prevent herself from veering to one side and running full-tilt into the wall. She was so concerned at trying to keep herself upright that she skid-stumbled almost to a stop, her shins hit the window sill and she tripped out into the night rather than flying gracefully and dramatically.
        Sakkara cartwheeled into the rain drenched darkness, shrieking in fright. She hit something soft and yielding, something that snagged her briefly then ripped apart, and almost immediately she hit another that did exactly the same. She twisted and turned and landed flat on her back on something firm but soft, and bounced off it onto the wet sand. She blinked water out of her eyes and looked up at the torn canopies flapping above her, the cart stacked w/ rolls of carpet by her side. Carpets left out in the rain, she thought in dizzy confusion. Someone's going to get skinned alive for that.
        And that was what had made her wonder about the fact that she had not died that night. She was supposed to have been killed, but she had slipped on a puddle of rain from a storm that was rare for that time of year. She had fallen out a window and landed on a pile of carpets that had been left outside, and since carpets were the sole property of the Queen, NOBODY would just leave them outside, especially if the weather looked as though it was turning bad. She told herself many times that it had just been coincidence - storms were rare, but not unknown, in summer, and maybe it had been one of the Queen's maids who had been in charge of the carpets, and she had been killed before she could do her job - but she could never decide whether she believed that or not.
        Those thoughts came much later on. Right now she looked up at the window and saw the raging figure of the General there, and was up on her feet and running in an instant - running, literally, for her life when a moment ago she had been willing to end it. Now though, in the instants between falling and running, the Queen's words had given her a plan.

        Purgatori's eyes snapped open. Like Sakkara of long ago, rage had taken the place of self-pity. Rage at the memory of the betrayal, hate at Jade for having dragged these feelings back to the surface to torment her. And like the Sakkara of long ago, a plan had managed to wriggle its way into her mind. A way to maybe stop Jade, or at the very least throw her off guard and buy some more time. You want to see my memories you Oriental bitch? I'll give you something to ponder. I've experienced things that will assault your petty little human mind! Feast on THIS!
        Jade jerked as she felt the flow of memories suddenly yanked from her grasp like a rope pulled from her palms. She wavered, stunned  that Purgatori could manage to do that, and then another memory was forced onto her. Not called by her probe, she found herself watching the scene as a bystander instead of being Sakkara, the change in perspective making her momentarily dizzy. She forced mind to steady itself and then she was engulfed by an image from her darkest nightmares.

        It was deep night. She was far into the desert, standing under a dazzling canopy of constellations. Sakkara stood before a raging bonfire, wearing only her familiar waist sash and some delicate golden crown. Her arms were stretched out high above her head, an exultant welcoming gesture directed towards the heart of the flames. There was a figure standing there. An enormous figure standing over eight feet tall and powerfully muscled. Long horns curved from his temples, glinting in the firelight.
        "I've watched you child," the demon said to Sakkara. His voice was a bass rumble that made her innards vibrate. "Your blood courses w/ a darkness few mortals ever know." She could see approval in his cold shining eyes. His lips pulled back in a very normal smile, one that was strange by its very ordinariness. "And your legacy of brutality. I find it…appealing."
        Sakkara grinned back at him, no fear at all in her thoughts, just pure desperate excitement and anticipation. "After all this time, you have answered my call! Lucifer, take me!"
        Jade stumbled back from the bonfire. "It can't be! NO!" The figures in front of her didn't respond, because of course she wasn't really there. She staggered past a bare-breasted young girl, cowering on the ground beside her, and saw Lucifer holding his huge scarlet hand out to Sakkara. He said something but the words were lost to the scream of the young girl as a long tentacle of flame shot out of the fire and crisped her instantly. Jade saw at least eight other girls meet the same fate and even though this wasn't her selected memory she could smell the burnt meat.
        "Perhaps you'll find this form more to your liking." Sakkara's voice, sounding vaguely amused and not at all bothered by the carnage around her. Jade spun and saw a rippling halo of magick envelope her, and when it faded, Purgatori stood before the flames, all red skin and glossy black leather.
        "Indeed!"
        Jade heard the hunger in the voice and shuddered. If such a creature had a lusting for her, she would probably go mad w/ terror. Lucifer! she thought in horror. The Father of Lies! I thought he was just a myth! But - but he's REAL! Her head was reeling, the fright of the revelation making her queasy. Get out! Get out! Get free!
        She strained, summoning her power to break her out of this nightmare. The last thing she saw was Purgatori w/ her arms around the demon, her tongue caressing his red throat.

        Jade pulled away from Purgatori's mind and fell back into her own body. She lurched away from Purgatori, and as her fingers left her temples, the link was severed. Her magick crackled and sputtered around her as her mind spun and her concentration faltered. Her dragons screeched in pain, uncoiling from Purgatori's arms and legs. Demons! Lucifer! No no! How could it be true? He was only a myth, a character in a religious text that had no evidence of truth behind it.
        Until now. She had been in there, she had felt the truth of Purgatori's memory. She had been watching a recollection, not a fantasy. Lucifer was true. And if he was, if he did actually exist, then logically that meant that the other aspects of the religion were true also. That meant there was a Hell. A Hell where the guilty and unworthy would end up. Where creatures such as vampires would go. "I am damned!" Jade gasped dizzily, the whole implications of what she had seen crashing down on her like an anvil. "Damned to Hell!"
        "Yes you little misbegotten mistake!" a voice rasped close by. "You're damned to Hell! We all are!" Purgatori crouched on the ground where she had collapsed as the spell had severed, pulling out of her head like a barbed hook. She saw Jade sagging w/ her hands to her head and realised that the forcible break of the probe had affected Jade as much as it had her. She's off kilter! Must take advantage. If she regains her composure I'm doomed!
        She leapt at Jade just as the Chinese vampire seemed to recover herself. Purgatori slashed out and knocked Jade backwards, her long talons ripping four long furrows across her cheek. Jade shrieked and her hair, seemingly of its own accord, whipped out and lashed Purgatori across the face
        Purgatori fell back a step. She's too quick! Too adept! Her thoughts raced desperately, frantically trying to come up w/ something that would save the situation. There was one option, and seemingly one option only : she could try and blind Jade w/ a blood veil. It would take almost all of what little power she had left, and if it didn't work she would be completely at Jade's mercy, but what other choice did she have? She slashed her wrists w/ her claws.
        Jade whirled back towards Purgatori and a curtain of cold blood wrapped itself over her face like a sheet. She jerked back w/ a shriek of revulsion and lashed out at where she had glimpsed Purgatori standing. She hit nothing. "Come here you bitch!" She raked her talons through the air and wondered why she still hit nothing  - surely Purgatori was not that fast?
        Purgatori dropped out of the air behind her, grabbing Jade's head and shoulder and pulling her off balance. "You may be the stronger Jade," she hissed, "but you are not the wiser!"
        Wings! Jade thought dismally. Her wings! She flew -  Teeth tore her throat open and she screamed in helpless fright. She struggled wildly but Purgatori had her tightly pinned and she could already feel her strength draining. No! NO!  Once, she might have accepted death, a release from this eternal torment, but now she thought of Hell and Lucifer, and if dying meant going there then she wanted no part of it. She was beaten, and she knew it. Every ounce of power she lost went straight into Purgatori and the balance of strength shifted away from her frighteningly quickly. She reached out w/ her mind, able to do nothing more now but warn her ally.
        Kabala!! Helpp!!
        Purgatori gulped hungrily, ignoring the dragon that climbed up her leg and fastened its teeth into her arm, trying to pull her off its mistress. Power : Jade's blood was virtually drenched in power, sweet intoxicating power that swept through Purgatori's body like an electric current. She drank deeply, wondering whether she should stop before she took the last drop and killed Jade completely or whether she should leave the ungrateful whelp alive to contemplate her humiliating defeat.
        She felt something move her, a queer and vaguely familiar shifting feeling like a sudden elevator drop. She looked around warily, trying to determine what had happened, but the black cloak of Jade's shadow realm still shrouded her. Jade hung limply in her arms, weakly pawing at Purgatori's chest in a feeble attempt to push her away. Purgatori put her lips to Jade's throat and sucked again, relishing the whimper of fear from her victim.
        Purgatori took one last gulp and raised her head and Jade collapsed in her arms. Purgatori gave a little hissing laugh of delight. She felt replenished - nowhere near the standard she had been used to, but unimaginably better than she had been since arriving on Earth. She bared her fangs and laughed as one of  the dragons in front of her began to fade out of existence. The heavy inky blackness began to drain out of the air as the power of Jade's magick evaporated. Sweet victory made her glow warmly and she fired a telepathic burst out towards her other nemesis.
        Kabala! Your assassin has failed! You hear me? She has learned nothing! Nothing but embarrassing defeat! Ha ha ha ha!!
        She held Jade in her arms for a moment, gazing thoughtfully at the pretty Oriental's luscious body, scantily clad in clinging emerald silk, and then dropped her to the ground. There was no time to indulge other pleasures now - she would have to deal w/ Kabala first. Jade had taken her by surprise, and she had no intention of making the same mistake twice.
        Where am I? She looked around in confusion as the shadows dripped away around her, revealing desert sky. The bazaar was gone : in front of her two lines of carved statues facing each other stretched into the distance, forming an avenue that led towards a pyramid. The statues showed the image of one person, a person recognised immediately. Ostraca. The Queen's tomb! But how - That shifting feeling. A dimension portal, a magickal doorway that could be invoked to link two places. It was a trick she hadn't used for over a thousand years but now she remembered the feeling there was no mistaking it. Someone had opened a portal and moved them; Jade, herself and the whole shadow realm. Purgatori whirled around warily - anyone who could pull off that sort of feat would have to be tremendously powerful. Surely not Kabala? If it was, then Purgatori was in real danger. She backed up into the shadows of the tomb and spun around as a black shape rose up out of the mists. It grabbed her tightly, holding her immobile w/ ease and leant over her.
        "Going somewhere Sakkara?"
        That voice. Oh no! Not him! "Rath!"
        The vampire pulled her close to him. "I smell your new-found power, my lost child. The blood flows through your veins, blossoming throughout. Renewing you." She felt his lips nuzzle her ear, a hateful reproduction of  the recent memories of Ostraca. "And this isn't thin mortal blood," he whispered. "This blood has power! Intoxicating, isn't it Purgatori?"
        "What business is it of yours?" Purgatori snapped, submitting to his grip. "I've earned Jade's blood. Her power is mine!"
        It worked. Feeling her relax, Rath eased his grip slightly. Purgatori immediately wrenched herself out of his grip and spun around, slamming him w/ a backfist driven w/ all her might and charged w/ magickal energy. A flashing blue crackle of power hurled Rath backwards into a tall statue of Queen Ostraca. The centuries old stone pedestal exploded into jagged shrapnel. Long black lightning bolt cracks shot up the torso of the Queens and then the whole statue toppled forward and collapsed on top of Rath. The support struts yanked away part of the wall, felling a pair of nearby columns which in turn demolished part of the ceiling as its support suddenly vanished. Rubble and choking dust spewed in all directions, the deafening sound of destruction reverberating off the walls and stone ceiling.
        Purgatori waved the dust away from her face and looked at the mound of ruined granite. Stop wasting time! A few stones won't stop him! He's far beyond that!
        As if to prove her right, a large hand punched out from a gap between two blocks, scrabbling for a handhold. "I'm disappointed in you, Sakkara." The voice was muffled and choked w/ dust, but she could still hear the sarcastic humour in the tone. A massive stone cross-piece, easily weighing several tons, was thrown into the air. Rath stood up, his immense body coated w/ thick dust, his long hair tangled and matted. One cheek had been ripped open by a jagged shard of granite and his long cloak had been torn in a couple of places, but apart from that he looked none the worse for wear, and just as fearsome as she remembered. "Is that any way to greet your maker?"
        Purgatori fled, using her wings instead of her feet. She flew fast, but she knew it wasn't fast enough. I'm grasping at straws! I can't escape him! I can't!
        "No, you can't," Rath said from far behind her. He had read her mind, and she realised that that meant he would probably be able to know any strategy she tried to think up. "You know better than to flee."
        A hand grabbed her by the neck, jarring her to a stop, holding her suspended in the air. He had moved unbelievably fast. "Escape is futile. If I want you, you are mine!"
        Purgatori clawed at his huge forearm, trying to dislodge the crushing grip on her neck muscles. He slapped her hands away w/ a blow that numbed her arms.
        "Ever the disobedient child, eh, Sakkara?" Rath said w/ amusement. He bit his palm and held the hand up in front of her face. "You mistake my intentions. I didn't come to fight you."
        Purgatori saw the hand, and recognised the gesture a second before he confirmed it. Her blood was wrenched out of her body, snaking in thin streams from her mouth, nose and eyes. NO! He's draining me! Her blood writhed through the air and slid into Rath's body through the wound in his palm. Purgatori struggled frantically, feeling all the precious power she had fought so hard to acquire being taken from her w/ ridiculous ease.
        Outside the tomb, Kabala and her coven hovered in the night sky. They had shifted into a wholly demonic form to make the journey here : the sabre-toothed tigers had sprouted large leathery wings not unlike Purgatori's own. Kabala hovered w/ them, fear and excitement and hate mixing inside her. There! Below us in the tomb! Our time is at hand! She directed a single telepathic command to her cats and they dived, swooping towards the tomb entrance.
        "I know your plight," Rath said serenely to Purgatori. She wasn't listening. Her struggles had become weaker and her blood now flowed in thicker streams towards Rath. She felt the link to Glenn Wolf evaporate as the concentration of his blood w/in her thinned out and was lost. "Your brethren come. They seek your….life…for your deeds of old." His cheek muscles knitted together as the power he absorbed from Purgatori oozed into his system. Skin flowed over the wound and a moment later there was no trace of the wound. "I'm not sure I disagree w/ them," Rath smirked. His attempt at humour was wasted - Purgatori was unconscious. Rath looked towards the entrance momentarily, sniffing the air like a hound. Vampires outside. An elder amongst them. He dismissed them and turned his attention back to Purgatori, lifting her easily and cradling her limp body in her massive arms. "What shall I do w/ you Sakkara?" he purred. "What a curious creature you are…" She vanished from this dimensional plane over four thousand years ago, he thought wonderingly, and then she returns through the Nexus, no less! We believed her dead. Where has she been? What has she done? What does she know? And, he wondered, the most important question : Is she still of any use to us?
        His senses bristled as he detected the charge of the coven outside. They were coming fast. They were angry. Rath traced a pattern in the air in front of him and a glowing rip in reality flashed into existence as he opened a portal to the Nexus. Like long ago, Sakkara, he thought wryly, your fate is in my hands.
        He stepped through the gateway, and it winked out of existence.
        Kabala rushed down the corridor, heading for the source of the psychic link she had followed across the globe. It was strong, just ahead. It felt as though its owner was in danger, growing weaker somehow. It was gone.
        "What?!" Kabala slowed in confusion. Her tigers powered past her around a corner and she could hear their roars of frustration echo into the depths of the building. She turned the corner and saw them looking around in bewilderment, discovering what Kabala had already felt. Their prey had escaped. There was a doorway at the far end but it was still sealed w/ stone blocks. There was no way out, yet Purgatori had gone. The vast antechamber was empty. No, not empty; a figure robed in metallic green silk lay on the dusty floor.
        "Jade!" Kabala crossed the room to her ally, angrily pulling the Chinese vampire to her feet. "How could you let this happen? After all this time we had all the answers of our making w/in our grasp!"
        Jade hung her head, wiping a droplet of blood from her lips. At another time she might have been angry at Kabala's attitude, but now other thoughts occupied her mind. "You don't understand Kabala," she said dully. "Purgatori has experienced things we could not fathom. She has feasted on the blood of gods - on the blood of Lucifer himself. Lucifer! That means that Hell exists! And what else? Does the entire cosmic pantheon of man's mythology exist? I fear it so!" She looked up at Kabala, her eyes wide. "We are beings of darkness! Eternal damnation awaits us!"
        "Pull yourself together Jade!" Kabala snapped. She was still furious at having lost Purgatori, and the full implications of Jade's words were lost on her. "You must locate Purgatori again!"
        "I…cannot."
        "What?!"
        "She's not on Earth!"

        Heat. Darkness. Her eyes fluttered open. She was standing up. Pain. She was weak. What had happened? Where was she?
        "You are in the ethereal plane." Rath's voice, deep w/ gravelly bass and echoing hollowly. "You are fully drained, Sakkara. Or would you prefer to be called Purgatori? We're surprised you woke! Truly it is a mistake to underestimate you, child! And still crafty : you kept some of Jade's blood, encased it around your heart."
        "…yes…" Purgatori croaked. Her arms ached. She blinked and looked around fuzzily, trying to make sense of her predicament. She had been strung up against a cross, a cross made of bones and decorated w/ the skulls of no creature she had ever seen. She stood several feet off the ground, her feet resting precariously on the ends of two long curving ribs. Her arms had been raised over her head, bound tightly at the wrists and secured to the top of the cross, stretching her out agonisingly as if on a medieval rack. Her wings were spread out, jammed behind the cross-bar of the cross and bound w/ rope. She pulled against her bonds, but she was weak, so weak, and stretched out as she was she had no leverage w/ which to apply pressure. She slumped as far as possible, which wasn't far at all.
        "By doing so, your mind remains closed to me," Rath continued. "I could just rip your heart out…"
        "…I…know…" She raised her head as his words sank in. Her vision cleared and she saw she was in a cave, a cave that was horribly familiar, the cave where it had all started. Large bats still hung in between the twisted stalactites, and off in the darkness she could hear the slither of cobras moving over the dry ground, shifting the ancient bones that littered the floor. A gigantic fire burned far off to her right. They stood in front of her, several huge silhouettes regarding her coldly w/ burning white eyes.
        "Welcome home child," Rath said w/ a smirking tone. "Does it bring back memories?" He stepped forward from the group, his head cocked to one side as he watched her slump again. "Sakkara, Sakkara….What are we to do w/ you?" he asked thoughtfully. "Therein lies our quandary."
        Purgatori gazed at the floor w/out seeing it. Home…memories… Yes, memories. More memories she didn't want to remember. She was too tired to stop them. They rose up, swamping her.

Egypt, 1385 BC
        She raced through the storm, pounding rain lashing at her face. The palace was far behind, lost in the darkness. She didn't know if the guards would guess where she was headed : the only hope she had was that they would spend a long time searching the town for her, assuming she would have hoped to hide herself amid the alleys and backstreets rather than heading for the place she most despised : the slave camps. It was over eight miles to the camps : she ran the whole way, fuelled alternately by pure fury and absolute despair. Air burned her lungs and a sharp pain cramped her side but still she ran - there was nothing else she could do. She sobbed as she ran, tears of rage and tears of anguish.
        A lightning flash lit the desert, and she saw the tents spread out around her, rippling and flapping in the wind, billowing in and out like the disembodied lungs of some gigantic animal. She slowed to a stop, suddenly realising the flaw in her plan - where, in all of these tents, was he? She glanced around in panic. No, no, this was all going wrong! Did she have the time to check every tent? Did she have a choice? What would happen if some of the guards saw her? They knew who she was, and if they saw the Queen's wife - the Queen's ex-wife, she amended bitterly - running around in a skimpy costume in a raging thunderstorm, they would detain her and ask all sorts of troublesome questions.
        Lightning flash. Figures outside a tent. Guards. And a figure in strange robes. She saw a whip snap though the air, saw a stick swing. No!  She ran towards them desperately. She didn't know what was happening, but in her current frame of mind she could easily believe that somehow Ostraca or Ramses had read her thoughts and sent some secret word to the guards w/ the express intention of destroying her plans.
        She was running on blind instinct now, and perhaps it was this very mindlessness that saved her; if she had stopped to consider the futility of a young woman trying to fight two large well-trained guards she might have hesitated and lost everything. As it was, she just saw two men trying to take away something she needed. She saw a shovel lying by the side of a tent, on top of a pile of rope coils and small marking stakes. She snatched it up, barely slowing her stride.
        "We've had enough of your ramblings, old man," one of the guards yelled. He sounded as though he had been drinking. Sakkara didn't know what had prompted the action, but she knew that if the guards did kill the old man, when they sobered up in the morning they would wish they had never been born : he was the slaves' healer, and w/ things floundering desperately at the building site the Queen would not be at all pleased to find out that they had killed the one man who almost single-handedly kept her workforce working. She wasn't bothered about what the Queen thought, but she was bothered about losing the old man. w/out slowing she swung the shovel, putting the whole of her flagging strength behind the blow. A hollow metallic tone blended w/ a loud crunch and the guard collapsed in a heap. His companion blinked stupidly at the body and turned just in time to get  the edge of the shovel in his forehead. He dropped w/ the same baffled expression on his face.
        Sakkara knelt by the old man, holding his shoulder helplessly. His tunic was soaked w/ blood, his chest was heaving spasmodically. He was dying. No! Please Isis don't let me lose him now! Not now! "Please old man! You told me of eternal life, one who would empower me!"
        The  healer turned his head towards her. Cold rain splattered on his eyeballs but he didn't blink. "My time has come. The Celts were right…civilised is no way for man to be…" A thin pink stream trailed from his mouth and nose into his beard. "S…Sakkara..?"
        "Yes, it's me! Please! I must know!"
        He coughed, spitting out blood and Sakkara flinched. No! Don't die before you tell me! she thought, and immediately thought that was a pretty selfish thing to think.
        "Follow the wind and rain," he croaked cryptically. "Go beyond the horizon…when the tallest peak becomes clear to you, climb it. There you will find the answer…a-answer…to - to…"
        He trailed off into silence. Sakkara saw his chest fall, and it didn't rise again. She hung her head. All this way, all this effort. All for some babbled enigma. Follow the wind and rain? Tallest peak? The wind was blowing into the South-West, into the desert. Was she really going to believe the old man's ramblings and run out into the desert? There were no mountains in the immediate vicinity that she could remember, and if she did indeed have to go "beyond the horizon" to find them, that meant at least two or three days in a scorching wilderness that would almost surely kill her.
        Voices on the wind. She stood and ran immediately, out into the desert. Once again, she found herself w/ no choices. If she stayed she would be killed. If she ran into the desert she would probably die too, but at least that would be better than giving Ramses the satisfaction of running her through.
        She ran w/ the cold wind on her back, ran until she literally collapsed on the ground, her legs feeling like jelly and the muscles jumping and twitching w/ exertion. She had no idea how far she had come. The night was thick blackness all around her, no hint of light from the camp carrying this far out, the moon and stars hidden by the stormclouds. She lay panting, her cheek pressed into the wet sand, then heaved herself up and staggered on, zigzagging blindly.
        She felt rock under her feet, and almost immediately barked her shins on a rough sandstone boulder, a sharp and excruciating pain that made bright shapes dance across her vision. Blood mixed w/ the rain. Her night vision was better now and she saw great fractured stone outcroppings stretching out before her. They rose up in jagged waves, separated by plunging fissures and yawning chasms, punctuated by wide flat shelves of rock that rippled under sheets of rain water. She halted, and w/ her impetus gone she fell to her knees, gasping for breath. She saw a shelter ahead : a plate of rock had toppled over and slid down until it fetched up against an outcropping, forming a crude roof over it. She crawled over to it, grateful to be out of the storm. She rolled onto her side and looked out at the rain teeming down less than a metre from her face. At least the rain would obliterate any footprints she might have left.
        Sakkara began to shiver, through cold and emotion. She was in the desert, soaking wet and alone, wearing nothing but a skimpy silk dress and some golden jewellery. Jewellery…She raised her hand to her face and looked at the ring she wore, the ring w/ the winged scarab. Her present. The first present she had ever been given, the one that had meant so much to her. The one that had been given to her by someone who had fallen in love w/ her and had pledged their life to her. Someone who had taken her out of her life of pain and misery and given her a life of bliss and love, a life of luxury that she could never have even dreamed of.
        She pulled the ring off her finger and cast it into the night. She was sobbing again, and although the racking sobs hurt her exhausted, cramped muscles and tore at her agonised lungs, she couldn't stop herself. She cried until her body gave up and pulled her into deep sleep.

        Sakkara crawled on her hands and knees. There were vultures circling above her, and she wished they would go away. She didn't mind that they wanted to eat her, but she didn't want them attracting the attention of any search parties that might still be looking for her. The sun was going down. Slowly. She had burnt badly. It didn't seem to matter, because she strongly suspected she would be dead by moonrise.
        It was her third day in the desert. She had awoken w/ the sun on her first day, and the slightest movement had made her cry out in pain. Her every muscle seemed to have been strained or wrenched by her flight from the palace. She moved anyway, tears of pain rolling down her face. She begrudged losing vital water that way but was powerless to stop her body reacting to the agony. She started climbing over the tumbled confusion of rock, anxious to keep as much distance between her and the palace as possible. She found a puddle and drank from it, grimacing at the silty taste. By noon she had cleared the rock belt, and sand stretched out before her again. Over to the South-West she could see shimmering sand and searing blue sky. No mountains. She walked on. She fainted at around three o'clock and woke at nine to pitch blackness. She was sick. Her belly was cramped and empty, she shivered badly. She got up, walked, fell over. The sand was still warm. Wearily she clawed a furrow in the ground and lay down in it, covering her body w/ a blanket of sand. Scant shelter to ward off the encroaching night chill, but better than nothing. She woke up w/ the dawn again, and began walking. Her feet were bleeding inside her pretty shoes. Her scorched skin had begun to peel in long strips, leaving raw fresh flesh beneath, against which even the gentlest of breezes was like a saw blade. She walked until she fell down again. She rested for an hour, got up, walked until she collapsed again. There was a small clump of stunted date trees here, feeding off some deep underground stream. She pulled off a handful of their unripe fruit and ate it hungrily. Threw it up five minutes later, and lay panting. She forced herself to eat again, sparingly this time, and managed to keep the food inside her. She was beginning to look like her old self again : emaciated, sunburnt and bleeding. She rasped dry laughter at the moon and somewhere along the way it turned into sobs. She woke up on the third day and knew she was going to die. She ate a few more dates, shoved another handful inside her waist sash and set off.
        The constant desert glare had scorched her eyes, and when she saw the shape ahead of her she though it must just be some mirage caused by her damage. She paused, her tongue hanging out, dry as paper. One of the circling vultures passed in front of the towering shape. Neither wavered or vanished, therefore both must be real. She blinked, and her eyes felt like pumice against her lids.
        A mountain. A tall slender stone spire rising into the desert sky like a needle, like one of the Queen's obelisks. Its summit seemed to be as high as the clouds. Was that a cave, near the top? Sakkara squinted, but her eyes refused to focus any clearer. Two more peaks swam hazily behind it, smaller in height.
        When the tallest peak becomes clear to you, climb it.
        The tallest peak. The old man hadn't been rambling after all. Sakkara gazed at the spire numbly, wanting to laugh in exultation but not having the strength. She was famished. She dug the last of her dates out and ate them slowly, never taking her eyes off the mountain, lest it vanish from sight.
She got to her feet, a new strength borne of determination pushing her on. She wouldn't die now, she wouldn't. Not when she had come this far. She realised she had lost a shoe  and wondered apathetically when that had happened. She kicked off the other and walked on, her soles burning on the hot sand.
        She reached the base of the tower in the late afternoon, having travelled the last two miles on her hands and knees. The sun was low on the horizon, painting the rock w/ deep purple shadows. Sakkara looked up the height of the mountain in despair. How could she climb this? It would be hard enough at the peak of her health, never mind in the state she was in now. Hot wind blew around her. It wouldn't be long before that heat started to ebb away. If she started to climb, she would probably fall, given her exhausted state. If she stayed at the base of the needle she would die, maybe of thirst, maybe of exposure, and her journey and effort would have been for nothing.
        She sagged dejectedly. What was she doing here? Why couldn't she be back in the palace w/ her lover? Why had the Queen forsaken her? They had known such harmony together, but when it came down to the line, the Queen had decided Sakkara came second in the great scheme of things. And second was nowhere. Second was dead. The Queen had a lover who adored her, but she wanted something that would only come after her death. She had spurned Sakkara for something she might never get to experience. It wasn't definite that she would get into the afterlife, but she had been obsessed w/ it. She had weighed up a happy existence while she was alive against a possible happy existence when she was dead, and Sakkara had been found lacking.
        That old familiar burning coal of hate began to glow in her chest again. She began to climb. It was easy at first, no more than walking up a steadily increasing incline, and then she began having to look for handholds. She didn't pay attention. She was too busy stoking the fires of resentment. Ever since she could remember she had slaved for royalty, so that they could be immortalised after their deaths. What thanks did she get? None. The last Pharaoh might well be in the afterlife now, and if he was it was partly due to her, grinding corn to feed the workers who had built his tomb. And what about that bitch Ostraca? How much work had Sakkara done for her before she had taken her into the palace? How much blood had Sakkara shed on the hot sands for her? Ungrateful bitch. Always whining that the tomb wasn't good enough, wasn't big enough, wasn't ready yet. The tomb could be tall enough to touch Ra himself and she would still probably complain about the colour, or something. Why do they deserve to have eternity in the afterlife? Sakkara thought sullenly as she climbed. What have they done to earn it? We deserve eternity more than they ever did. I deserve it!
        She paused and wiped sweat from her eyes. A flicker of movement caught her eye and she looked down. Sudden nausea at seeing the ground so far below her perilous perch, then a clench of fear as she focused on the movement : a dust cloud on the horizon, kicked up by horses. A search party, no doubt attracted by those damnable vultures. Her foot slipped off and she fell down, wrenching her arms. She wailed in pain but her scrabbling feet found purchase almost immediately and she clung to the rock, shaking at the scare. When she looked down again the cloud was much nearer and she began climbing again in panic.
        She didn't know how long or how high she climbed. Her feet and fingers bled profusely, cut to ribbons on numberless sharp edges. Only adrenaline from her fear kept her going; fear of what would happen if the guards caught her, fear of what would happen if she lost her grip and fell. The sun was very low now, turning a dark orange, and fright settled deeper in her. What if she hadn't reached the top by sunset? She would be left clinging to some ledge, unable to see where to go in the blackness. Sweet Isis! Please help me! Please! I don't want to die here! I don't deserve to die like this!
        She reached up and her hand pushed forward into empty space. She looked up and saw a yawning cavern above her. Dear Anubis! I've done it! The cave! She heaved herself up level w/ the entrance and stopped, peering to the depths of the cave. Is…is that a light?
        Her fingers suddenly slipped and she fell w/ a squawk of terror, clawing wildly for a purchase. Her fingers raked wavering trails through the dirt floor of the entrance, peeling off one of her nails, and then gripped the lip of the rock ledge. Her bloody feet found a knob of rock outcropping and she kicked herself up, getting one elbow and then the other over the edge of the cavern entrance. She boosted herself up and over, and then by the good grace of Isis she was lying down, safe on the floor of the cavern.
        She lay panting, her muscles screaming in protestation. Her legs felt like clay, her arms like lead. Her hands and feet throbbed sullenly. But she was alive. She was at her destination. All she wanted to do was lie here and sleep for maybe a month or two. She rolled over instead, and came face to face w/ a yellowing skull, dusty w/ age. There was another. A small gecko lay on top of it, regarding her curiously. Soft twittering : bats flickered across the sky above her. Yes, she had been right - she could see the pale orange of a far-off fire deep in the bowels of the cave.
        There you will find the answer…
        She tried to stand. It seemed to be the hardest thing she had ever done. She got onto her knees and then her body just refused to go any further.
        I know he would empower you!
        Empower.
        She got to her feet, swaying. The light dimmed for a moment as her body rebelled, and then she forced herself on, leaving bloody footprints in the sand. She staggered like a drunkard, her eyes fixed on the slowly brightening light. The further she walked, the more bones she came across. Human bones, animal bones, bones she couldn't identify. She passed a trio of tall spikes, each of which had the top half of a skeleton jammed on it like some grisly decoration. She wondered if the owners of the skeletons had been aware when they had been bisected and staked.
        The light was bright yellow now, and she could feel the warmth of the fire, just around a corner. She edged around a thick stalagmite and gasped in terror. A massive demon stood in front of the fire, holding the corpse of a large animal in his hands. He stood at least a head taller than anyone she had ever seen, and his build made even the most heavily muscled of the Queen's guards look scrawny. He was naked except for a loincloth and a cape. His long brown hair had slim plaits woven into it, tied w/ thin rawhide. His cape ties were fastened to large dull silver discs, engraved w/ the same style of looping swirls that she had seen on the healer's tokens. He raised his head from the chest of the lion and she saw the long strings of blood running off his chin. His eyes, cold white fire, regarded her w/out surprise, as though her had been expecting her.
        S-sw-sweet G-goddess! Sakkara trembled, trying not to show her fear. He seemed to be some sort of animal, and animals could sense when you were frightened and could cause all sorts of trouble. She had learnt that from those hateful horses. The demon's lips curled up in what might have been a smile, as though he had read her thoughts. She saw his teeth and shuddered. What was she supposed to do? Was she supposed to say something? Introduce herself? What? What did you say to a carnivorous demon? Would it even understand her? She swallowed w/ difficulty, her throat raw and dry from her trek, and said the only thing that seemed to matter any more.
        "I want to live forever."
        "I know," the creature replied, and Sakkara jumped. He spoke perfect Egyptian but his voice... Goddess, his voice sounded like death personified. "And why do YOU deserve eternal life?!"
        Sakkara hesitated. She hadn't expected to be questioned; the old man had said that he knew she would be empowered and so she had expected that that would happen and nothing else. How could she put all her feelings into words? How could she expect this creature to understand how she felt?
        "Kings and queens hide behind opulence and majesty and fool themselves into thinking they're truly alive. But they do not experience life. They do not live! Like the monuments we craft for them they are unfeeling and remote. Still-born!" She squared her shoulders, her anger and rejection once again giving her body strength. "I have no use for such facades. I know life. The doubt, the pain, the perpetual tragedies and the occasional triumphs. There is value in ALL of it. And wherever the rivers of fate take me, I'll go w/out question."
        The demon looked unimpressed w/ her soliloquy. He raised the lion corpse above his head and tilted it to let blood from its torn open chest flow into his mouth. "Tell me the truth," he said boredly.
        "I am!" Sakkara snapped. She had said something that she had hoped would make her request seem noble and worthwhile, and while it wasn't her main reason for her journey here it was still true nonetheless.
        "Are you?" The demon said blandly. His disinterest and rudeness made Sakkara's lips curl. "I'll ask you one last time. Why do you deserve eternal life?" There was scornful emphasis on the word "you".
        "Because I crave vengeance!" Sakkara exploded. "Because I was cast away, betrayed by my lover Queen Ostraca!" She stopped, breathing heavily. Her eyes flashed. "And I want her to regret it!" she hissed. "As the years pass I want her to see me live on as she crumbles to dust!"
        Rath flung the carcass away, his thoughts racing w/ wonder. Her thoughts, her passions, are unparalleled! The old man was right about her! She is the perfect weapon! Man is not meant to be civilised, he is meant to be wild, to run free! Yet they are quick to form packs and turn from the wild ways. Yes, she's perfect and deserving. Who better to bring down this kingdom than one of its own? "There's a price to pay for immortality, Sakkara."
        Sakkara locked eyes w/ the demon. The sense that she had succeeded overwhelmed her. She didn't even question how the demon had known her name. "I don't care! I'll pay ANY price!"
        There was a blur of movement, and suddenly he was standing behind her, one huge hand on her shoulder, his skin cool and rough. "Would you trade one form of slavery for another, Sakkara?"
        "Yes!"
        He turned her around, holding her by the neck in a gentle but firm grip. His other hand trailed up her stomach, making her shiver. He opened his mouth in a hungry grin and when she saw his long canines her heart began to thump.
        "Yes! Do what you must!" Sakkara said breathlessly. His fingers pulled aside her silken top. She couldn't feel her wounds any more. "Do it!"
        Rath's head dipped forward and she felt his long sharp teeth bite deeply into her breast. She arched her back, straining against his iron grip. It hurt so bad. It felt so good. A few trickles of blood slipped over the swell of her breast, feeling feverishly hot, and then all she could feel were his lips on her skin, and the strong sucking pressure as he gulped her blood.
        Rath heard her breath slip out in a long shuddering contented sigh and he relaxed his grip, realising she was not making an attempt to get away. She arched her back even further, her hands held out as if in supplication, the fingers shaking from the tension in her muscles.
        "Ahhhhhh yessssss," Sakkara sighed. It sounded like her first experience of pleasure. "Soooo good….yess…"
        Rath drank deeply, listening to her. She's so willing to embrace her death! She's engulfed w/ passionate rage, he thought w/ satisfaction, pausing to look at the expression of pained rapture on her face. Good! That will forever be her trademark.
        "No! Don't stop!" Sakkara cried. "More! M-more! Take me!"
        Rath did, biting her wound even deeper. Hot blood gushed into his mouth, and he frowned slightly at the deliciously rich taste. There's something about her blood….something…primal…
        She collapsed in his arms and he caught her deftly. Her head hung limply, the gold beads in her hair gently rattling together. He cradled her skull and lifted her head close to is body. Her eyes fluttered weakly and she moaned, as though resenting the disturbance. He raised one of his sharp fingernails to his throat, watched her eyes follow the movement. He tore open his carotid vein, and his blood jetted out, splattering over Sakkara like boiling water.
        "Drink," he ordered, but she was already moving. Her cracked lips locked around his vein and she sucked at his skin. Her hands clawed at him weakly. "Yessss," Rath purred. Everything was working out better than he could have hoped. Had he ever come across a being so eager to embrace his way of life? "My blood is ancient Sakkara, over two thousand years old. In that time my pagan people and I have seen many wonders and gained many abilities." He didn't think she was listening to him. He felt her gulping, taking deep mouthfuls w/out any hesitation or repulsion. "I shall pass a shred of them onto you." Her hands took his head, much stronger now, trying to press his skin closer to her mouth as though it would help her drink quicker. She was so eager to mix his powerful blood w/ her own. Her blood…what was that strange taste it had? It seemed familiar, something he hadn't come across for well over a thousand years. Something….something he thought he should recognise.
        She was still gulping at him. "Enough." She ignored him. He grabbed her hair and tried to pull her head away from his neck, but she resisted w/ a surprising strength. "You've had enough! You hear me?!"
        "No! More!" Sakkara cried.
        She clung to him w/ the strength of a woman possessed, a woman possessed by a demon, and suddenly Rath realised w/ something like horror what that peculiar tint to her blood was.
Abandoning tact, he yanked her away and slapped her backhand w/ all of his strength. Her blood! The blood of the Fallen Angels courses through her veins! He clamped a fist to his throat his mind whirling at the implications of his revelation.
        Sakkara was dimly aware of being thrown a vast distance, right into the depths of the cavern, and then falling, falling far into a natural pit. She landed heavily, crunching hard into the ground. Apart from a few ribs and arm and leg bones, the floor was almost exclusively littered w/ dozens and dozens of human skulls, as though Rath had decided to collect the heads of his victims.  She flopped onto her stomach, feeling leather shift and squirm beneath her. Scores of Egyptian cobras writhed around her, hissing savagely in alarm at her sudden intrusion, but making no attempt to bite her. She tried to get to her feet, to get off the snakes she was lying on, but her limbs began to seize up. She dropped to her knees.
        She hurt. Her whole body hurt, some indefinable type of pain that seemed to spread around her in a burning flow, as though her blood had turned to lava. She groaned in pain, clenching her jaws together, and felt how sharp and long her canine teeth had become when they jabbed the inside of her lip. She doubled over w/ a howl of pain as the skin on her back tore open over the shoulder blades. Bones and muscles rearranged themselves inside her, a sickening feeling, and the limbs of her great wings pushed out of her flesh, the silky membranes spreading across between the wing vanes. She jerked upright in agony, feeling something punch through the skin of her forehead, spilling thin skeins of blood into her eyes. She could see her arms in front of her, the hands spasmed into arthritic claws, and she saw that her skin had turned red, a beautiful sunset red, and it seemed to her as though all the sunburns she had suffered as a slave had been her body's attempt to become this gorgeous shade. Her muscles pulsed painfully, as though their very fibres were being pulled apart and reformed. The feeling was horrendous, and yet beautiful : she could feel the strength they had in them when they reformed.
        The pain began to ease. Her muscles began to relax. She knelt amongst the cobras, waiting to see if anything else was going to happen to her. It didn't. She moved hesitantly, first flexing her fingers and then her arms, to see if anything had been damaged or broken. On the contrary, everything felt wonderfully fine. Her skin, although some strange new colour, was smooth and flawless, the raw patches left by her peeling sunburn now totally gone. She licked her teeth, feeling the sharp new points, and when she wiped the blood from her forehead her fingers brushed something up there and she realised she had grown a pair of horns on her temples.
        She stood up warily, but her legs supported her easily. All the aches and strains from her desert crossing were gone. In fact, she had never felt better, never stronger.
        Never more alive.
        Sakkara licked her lips, feeling parched and thirsty, which wasn't surprising considering she hadn't drank for two days. A weight on her back. She had wings, for the love of Isis! She flexed them experimentally, looking over her shoulder at them wonderingly. Did they work? Could she actually fly w/ them? That concept was so obscure that she found it both deliciously tempting and scary.
        She looked around the pit she had fallen in, and for some reason her vision was much sharper and clearer. She saw a long sloping series of stepped ridges and climbed out easily, being careful not to step on any of the snakes. Rath was waiting for her at the bonfire, his arms folded and a strange expression on his face. It almost seemed as though he had been taken aback by something he had not expected.
        "What am I?" Sakkara asked him. Even her voice seemed to have change. She no longer sounded like the young woman she had been, she sounded somehow…older. As if she had aged in those few brief minutes. Her voice sounded huskier, sexy yet w/ an edge of coldness to it like a knife blade, the voice of someone who would either make love to you or cut your heart out w/ equal ease, depending on her whim. If a black widow spider could have spoken, it perhaps would have had this voice.
        "You are undead, but more alive than ever," Rath said. His voice seemed to hold some of the wonder she felt, and she couldn't help feeling that something had gone wrong w/ his plan. "But you are unique amongst the vampire clans and tribes."
        "How so?"
        "Blood from your ancestors, the Fallen Angels, flows through your veins. And my blood, mixed w/ theirs, has made you unlike any creature who has ever walked the earth."
        Sakkara's mind whirled. The Fallen Angels? Who were they? Her ancestors? Did he know something of her heritage? Was she finally on the verge of finding out something - anything - about her parents? And unique! She rolled that word over her tongue. It was sweet, w/ a bitter aftertaste. Unique meant she was special. She was the only one of her kind. She would always be a remarkable creature, no-one would ever be like her. But it also meant that she would always be alone, distinctly separate from any other creature. Having been a lonely slave for so long, she considered this of little consequence, little realising what implications it would have on her through the long centuries of her life…
        There was a scuffle of movement by the cave entrance. She heard it as though she was standing right there, although she was more than two hundred metres away. Her eyes picked out the shape of two guards standing silhouetted against the dark purple sky, holding flaming torches in their hands. She could see others scrambling up behind them. Guards. The bastards who had killed all her friends, tried to murder her, and chased her across countless miles of scorching desert.
        "Can you feel the bloodlust rising?" Rath said softly, as though he had plucked the feeling out of her mind. "Go Sakkara! Go satisfy it!"
        She ran, feeling like a child who had been given permission to play from an adult. She was staggered by the speed she moved at - when she spread her new wings she could feel her feet lift off the ground as she began to glide.
        The guards were all large, well-built warriors. If she had been her normal self, any one of them could have snapped her into little pieces w/ one hand. She hit them like a red cannonball, coming out of the blackness so fast the first pair of soldiers didn't even see what killed them. She had reached out to shove them to the ground, and to her astonishment her hands punched straight through them. She felt wet meat, hard brittle bone, hot pulsing organs. She pulled her hands free, and took the head off the guard nearest to her w/ one punch. Another one just stood and gaped at her, screaming helplessly. She grabbed him by the head and pulled him apart. Blood fountained. Blood. It looked so…appetising. She was so thirsty. It seemed to have multiplied over the past few moments and she seemed to crave a drink now more than she had when she was crawling over the hot sands.
She caught the last guard as he sprinted back to the cavern entrance. She held this huge soldier w/ ease, and before she knew what she was doing she sank her sharp teeth into his neck and tore open his jugular vein. Hot wetness splattered all over her, blinding her before she managed to get her lips over the wound. She swallowed, and the revulsion caused by the realisation of what she was doing was swept aside by the glorious taste and the feeling of power and strength that flowed into her.
        I feel more than I have ever felt! I can taste his fear! It's wondrous! I feel so alive!
        The man shrieked and pulled away slightly. She tried to force him back and snapped his neck by mistake. He flopped down, his blood flow ceasing as his heart stopped. She sucked at his neck desperately, but got no more than a mouthful. She could still feel her thirst, barely sated, and she suddenly realised what Rath had meant by accepting a new form of slavery. She licked a bit of the blood off one of the corpses but it had cooled and the taste had lost some of its exciting flavour. She walked over to the cave entrance and looked to see if there were any more guards around. Her eyes picked out the chariots way down by the foot of the mountain, but no more people. Damn.
        She looked down at the ground and felt a little nauseous. It was so far away. She had never been higher than the second floor of the palace, and seeing her country spread out like one of the Queen's papyrus maps gave her the shivers. It was beautiful, but it gave her a slightly disturbing feeling that made her feel like jumping off the ledge, just to feel what it would be like to plummet through the air.
        Plummet.. Wings. She had wings. Could she fly? She had left the ground when she had ran through the cave passage, but just because her speed had given her lift didn't mean that she could fly like a bird. Birds. Vultures, she had seen huge vultures on her travels w/ the Queen. They sat on craggy ledges or tree limbs and jumped off, spreading their big feathery wings, and just floated on the air w/ seemingly no effort whatsoever.
        Jump. Spread wings.
        She leaned over the edge and looked at the ground again. Her foot dislodged a pebble and she watched it, helplessly hypnotised by the dreadful fascination of its fall  as it clicked and bounced, spun and twirled, ricocheting off the side of the mountain to disappear into the night. She didn't hear it hit the ground. Sweet Isis! What are you going to do Sakkara! Are you stupid! You're not going to jump off here are you?!! She swallowed and closed her eyes. Imagine that. Imagine flying like a falcon, like Horus himself. Imagine falling and mashing yourself to paste on the ground! She opened her eyes and looked down again, and suddenly got a vision of herself tumbling screaming through the night sky, plummeting towards the hard desert floor. It was so clear that it made her stomach clench. She jerked backwards, her mouth dry. No. No she couldn't. She couldn't just jump off and hope. She might die, and she couldn't risk that, now that she had the chance to even the score w/ the Queen and her precious general.
        Yet, again she looked down, scanning everything before her, and wondered what it would be like to fly over it. That was something not even the Queen had done. Let her have her petty chariots and horses. How much superior to her, and indeed all men, would she be if she could actually FLY?
She had to try. She leaned forward, her wings half-spread. Go on. Just push off w/ your legs. Shove. Spread your wings. Like the vultures. She leant out, felt her centre of gravity shift and suddenly panicked, leaning back again in a hurry, her heart pounding. Dammit Sakkara! She couldn't help it though. That thought of the ground rushing up…
        She closed her eyes again. I WILL do it. I WILL. I'm stronger. I'm not a human. I have wings. I CAN do it…
         …can't I?
         She calmed herself down and leant over again, taking it slowly. Lean a bit - get used to it. Lean a bit further - get used to it. She could feel her balance shifting subtly, feel gravity pulling at her eagerly.
         Sakkara you idiot! Why not just climb down and take off from the ground?! W/ a run and a flap like the vultures do when they leave a carcass!
         What a splendidly simple solution! All she had to do was take a run like she had in the cave, and if it turned out that her wings didn't work after all, all that would happen would be -
         The lip of the ledge crumbled under her weight, spilling her into the void. She pinwheeled her arms backwards but it was already far too late. Her legs straightened reflexively, pushing her away from the rock and she dropped through the blackness, her stomach cramped into a tight ball of  ice. Sweet hot terror swept through her, the realisation of her vision. She couldn't even scream as she clawed wildly at the rushing air, as though she could grab a hold of some of it and slow herself down.
         And then, seemingly of their own accord, her wings unfolded themselves, spread out, caught the wind, jarred her level, and then she was flying. Blessed Isis, she was flying! She flexed her wing muscles, the movement coming unconsciously and instinctively. Her great red wings flapped powerfully and she felt herself rise.
        The terror had gone. This was ecstasy. Her entire body shook and tingled w/ feelings she hadn't experienced outside of Ostraca's bedroom. She dipped a wing and arced around, delighting in the way the moon-frosted desert wheeled below her. She dived at the ground, and her breathless shriek at the feeling of acceleration was one of pure excitement and pleasure. She pulled up easily and climbed for the stars.
        She would never forget that night. It was one of her most precious memories, one that she could recreate almost any time she spread her wings. She flew for hours, just playing in the sky like a courting raven, caught up in the rapture of the new experience. For all she knew, she was the first person ever to fly.
        At last, Sakkara circled back to the mountain, her new eyes finding the cave entrance easily in the blackness. She landed gracefully on the ledge and saw that Rath had come out to watch her. His face was masked in shadow, only his glowing eyes visible, so she couldn't tell if he was impressed w/ her new-found ability. She didn't care. She was, and that was all that mattered. She was exhilarated. All that exertion, and she still wasn't tired. She stretched her limbs happily and turned to look to the North-East. There, way, way off in the distance, only visible due to her high vantage point and her mystical eyesight, was Alexandria. It was nothing but a series of tiny black shapes against a deep purple backdrop, speckled w/ minuscule lights, but beginning now to be delicately lit by the rising sun. She could see the pyramid, its very tip seeming to glow as its polished limestone casing stones caught the orange of the dawn. Seeming to burn w/ fire.
         "Oh, Ostraca," Sakkara murmured. "How I long for what we shared…but I know it will never be." Her eyes hardened as she watched the creeping fire of dawn spread to the rooftops and other tall buildings. As though Alexandria was catching fire… Alexandria in flames…Ah…what a delightful idea… "I'll make you regret turning me away," Sakkara hissed.
        Behind her, Rath smiled w/ satisfaction. Yes, Sakkara. Feed the fire. That is exactly what we're counting on.
        Sakkara stood on the ledge to watch the sun come up. The Eastern horizon was beautiful, painted in shades of dazzling gold and pastel pink. How pleasant it would be to stand up here and watch Ra rise, knowing that his coming didn't signal another work day. This sunrise signalled the death of Sakkara, and the rebirth of a new creature. A creature of vengeance. A creature of power. Death and rebirth. Just like the gods and goddesses…
        She was hot, hotter than she had any right to be, up on a high mountain top at the very edge of dawn. The first touches of light brushed her skin and she realised something was very wrong. Her eyes stung harshly. "Aaaa…so bright!" She raised her arms to shade her face and saw w/ horror that her skin was smoking.
        She backed away in fright, and Rath was there, wrapping his cloak around her like a curtain, putting blessed shade on her seared skin.
        "Come, wild one," he said softly, and she could hear amusement in his voice. "There is much I have to teach you."
        "But the Queen and the General are to be married in two sunsets! I must be there!"
        "Then you must learn quickly, eh?"
        He led her deep into the safe shadows of the cavern, far from the now dangerous sunlight. Sakkara wondered briefly what it would be like to live in perpetual night. She loved to ride about in the day, visiting the markets and such, but even after a year of bliss, she still had hateful memories of burning every day under the sun as she ground her corn. She considered for a moment, then decided she wouldn't miss the sun too much at all.
        Rath led her past the fire and appraised her briefly, then bit open his wrist and offered it to her. She was there in an instant.
        "You MUST remember : when you feed, drain them completely, or you risk bringing another vampire into existence." He looked down at her, feeling the blood leaving his body. "That is enough!" Sakkara paused and then continued sucking at his arm as soon as he continued his lesson. "To make another vampire you must choose wisely. Few deserve the honour. You must be careful to feed the new-born vampire constantly." He became aware of his reducing power and realised w/ alarm that she was still drinking from him. "Let go!"
        She held his arm tighter as he tried to pull it away, desperately sucking harder to get as much as she could.
        "I said LET GO!" Rath grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back viciously, making her squeal, though whether that was in pain or reproach at losing her meal, he couldn't tell. He sealed his wound and gritted his teeth, trying to still his anger. Gods, she was a feisty one! He had wanted someone passionate and vicious, but even he began to wonder if Sakkara was maybe too passionate to control. He would have to watch her VERY closely. "If it is denied blood, especially in the first four sundowns," he continued at last, "it will still be immortal, but it will be ravenous and insane for all eternity." He looked at Sakkara sternly to see if the importance of the lesson had been understood. It didn't appear to have been. "You hear me?" he said testily. She just stood there, a mixture of lust and resentment on her face as she gazed at his wrist. "You hear me?" he snapped again.
        "Of course!" Sakkara snapped back. She wiped the blood from her lips and licked it off her hand lovingly, baring her fangs at him in a cheeky smirk. "Can I leave now, Rath?" she asked pertly.
        "Impetuous creature!"
        Oh yes, he was going to have to watch this one VERY closely….

        The moon hung serenely above the palace, looking down implacably at the commotion going on below her. Crowds of people swarmed outside the main entrance, kept back by a large detachment of the royal guards, brandishing whips, canes, spears and swords indiscriminately. It was the Queen's wedding night, and the beggars were out in force, hoping to gain advantage from the festive mood of the many rich guests arriving. They had been joined by a horde of women from city who were trying to appeal to the Queen to have some of their men returned : w/ more and more of them having been taken to support the decreasing slave population at the tomb sites, the agricultural tasks were suffering. They had hoped to appeal to the Queen's common sense, to persuade her that they needed men to reap and plant and sow to prevent starvation, but the guards weren't letting them anywhere near the palace. One of the women had tried to force her way through to talk to the Queen, and now she lay comatose from a stick blow to the head. The mood of the mob had fouled noticeably, and to make things even worse,  a large number of men were now arriving; tired workers who had come directly from the fields, and resentful workers who had come directly from the construction site. They were demanding food and rest, and the guards were beginning to get nervous. If the mob got over their fear of the guards they could try and force their way into the palace, and then the guard would have no option but to kill them, and if they started killing the citizens, especially unarmed women, things would probably explode.
        High on the parapets, Sakkara perched like a raptor, watching the proceedings w/ amusement. She looked stunning. The previous evening, she had stripped the dead guards of their gold trappings and had flown w/ it to the royal jeweller. His workshop was lit brightly as he worked late into the night to finalise the Queen's gifts for some of her guests. Sakkara burst in on him and after bringing him around w/ a slap to the face she offered an arrangement to him whereby if he made her a new costume, she would leave his heart inside his chest. He agreed, and had worked feverishly to produce her new garb. Delicate curls of gold spiralled around her horns. A big golden neckpiece in the shape of a spread falcon draped over her neck and shoulders. Bands circled her biceps, in the shape of scarabs w/ bat wings, and a golden cobra coiled around each thigh. She wore a breastplate shaped into the eyes of Horus, and wristbands decorated w/ ankhs covered her forearms. Her shins were encased in guards carved into the shape of rearing cobras. A winged scarab choker was wrapped snugly around her throat, and she had redone her make-up. She looked magnificent.
        She looked down into the courtyard and her eyes picked out Ostraca greeting two dark-skinned visitors, dressed in dark robes and striped fur. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of Ostraca, looking more beautiful than ever, and she leant forward slightly, even though her ears could quite easily pick up their conversation.
        "We are looking forward to your wedding," the male said to the Queen.
        She bowed her head humbly. "It is our honour that you chose to attend."
        He waited until one of the attendants moved away and then stepped closer to the Queen, his voice slightly lowered. "We are eternally indebted to you, Queen Ostraca. Try as we might, Kabala and I could not conceive a child…an heir to our throne.." He paused, and Sakkara's lip curled at his embarrassment. "It was our kingdom's biggest shame. By sharing your knowledge of herbal remedies, I am pleased to announce that Kabala is w/ child! Light shines on our kingdom again!"
        The Queen gasped w/ delight, and Sakkara saw her turn to congratulate the female, the one called Kabala. She saw Kabala accept the thanks w/ a pleasure of her own, but even at this distance Sakkara could tell that the pleasure was a facade. Sakkara considered this for a moment, but just then a volley of shouts took her attention. She looked over to the main entrance and saw that the guards were having to get more and more forceful in order to keep the people away from the arriving chariots. She could her the men shouting at the soldiers, given courage by their numbers. They demanded to see the Queen, demanded food and rest.
        Peasants! Sakkara thought scornfully, grinning down at them. They're like hungry dogs, begging for scraps. They don't know the General's plans. He'll work them to death in order to keep his new whore happy! She saw one man elbow his way through, shouting loudly, demanding to be shown the Queen. A whip caught him across the face and he fell under a flurry of canes. Sakkara chuckled. You want the Queen, you peasant? Well, so do I!
        "Wake up! Wake -

        - up!"
        A hand gripped her jaw w/ painful strength, lifting her drooping head w/ a jerk that hurt her neck muscles. "Wake up!" Rath snarled. "This is no time for memories!"
        Purgatori glared at him, his face swimming in and out of focus. She strained against her wrist bonds again, but they were as tight as ever. Her shoulder muscles had gone numb, and her spine was creaking at the discomfort.
         "My fellow Celts and I have pondered your fate long and hard as you have wandered in and out of consciousness. You see, it's been a very long time since I saw you, and though you are weak, your thoughts are well guarded from me." He grinned at her, a patronising smirk that made her want to pull his face off. "I know so little about you. I could just pry, but…" his grin widened. "We've decided it comes down to your answer to this : will you accept me as your master? Will you bow to me and only me forever?" He looked her over, relishing her predicament. "Accept your fate, accept me as your master and your foes will never find you. Refuse me and I will lead them straight to you, to deal w/ you as they wish."
        Purgatori focused on him, her eyes blazing. "I bow to no-one Rath! Ever!"
        "As you wish," he replied easily, w/ a big mocking smile. He turned abruptly, his cape swirling around him. "Come, blood brothers. Let us travel the Nexus and return to the Invisible Village."
        Purgatori gazed blearily at the blinding gateway that appeared, watching the dark feral shapes file into it one by one and disappear. Rath didn't even look back. The shimmering doorway blinked out. Purgatori looked at the space where it had been, her weary mind trying to make sense of what she had seen. The…Nexus..?! The Nexus! He knew how to use the Nexus! He could have transported her off this loathsome planet!
        She slumped against the cross, the constant stress in her muscles gnawing maddeningly into her brain. The cave rippled around her. She blinked, wondering if her eyes were playing tricks. A crack split the cave floor. Another appeared, then more, and suddenly a skeletal clawed limb punched up out of the earth. Some hideous feline creature slouched towards her, all teeth and scrawny hide, and another joined it, and another. Purgatori watched helplessly, wilting as the very last of her strength began to ebb. The cave began to melt around her, just like the Chinese garden had. She was dimly aware, w/ the last remnants of her consciousness, that the cave was just an illusion created by Rath, an illusion that was now breaking up w/ his absence.
        More of the creatures swarmed around the base of the cross, snarling and clawing at her, and suddenly the cross toppled backwards as they tore it free of its base. She felt them catch it, and felt the jogging and swaying as they began to carry her off somewhere. Her eyelids fluttered shut, utter exhaustion getting the better of her once again. She didn't see the skeletal felines change to their proper tiger forms as their illusion-shapes eroded completely. She didn't see the two figures that swam into view, fairly glowing w/ exultation.
        "The time has come!" Jade crowed. "Finally.."
        "…she's ours!" Kabala finished jubilantly. Her arms were feline from the elbows down, and she flexed her long curved claws hungrily. "Let the war dance begin!"

Tanzania, Africa
         Purgatori stirred, and her eyes opened slowly. It was a struggle to get the eyelids fully up, but she managed it eventually and looked in confusion at the trees around her. It was warm here, clammy and humid. The dryness of the Egyptian desert had gone. She was in a jungle. Where was she? How had she gotten here? She was lying flat on her back on what felt like a stone slab that was probably some kind of sacrificial altar, judging by the heavy smell of old blood. The slab was in the centre of some sort of clearing, the undergrowth having been ripped away rather than carefully cleared w/ machetes or other implements. The edge of the clearing was ringed w/ stakes, and each one held a skull, smothered w/ pitch and set alight to make gruesome flickering torches. Her wrists and calves were singing anthems of agony and she ponderously turned her head to see a large weretiger sitting w/ her arm clamped it its jaws. She didn't need to check her other limbs to know that a similar creature had its teeth in each of them. The tiger pulled its lips back and growled at her, slavering over her skin. She could sense its hunger, its eagerness to bite meat off her and swallow it, but it was obviously under orders from someone it feared to do nothing but hold her.
         "Nice kitty," Purgatori said. She tried for a sneering tone but it came out as a dry croak that barely sounded like words. The cat seemed to understand anyway; it snarled again and settled for biting harder, grinding its fangs into her flesh and cracking her bones. She gritted her teeth, writhing and groaning at the pain. Rath, you bastard. Why did you leave me like this, drained and at my lowest ebb, at the mercy of my enemies? I've no chance of escape! she realised dismally. What a pitiful end for one who has dared feast on the blood of gods.
        "Purgatori!" The voice was full of pleasure, of eager anticipation. Kabala. The dark-skinned bitch who had hurt her in San Francisco. "Finally our time has come!" Her voice virtually dripped w/ glee. "We have you exactly where we want you! Isn't that right Jade?"
        So the Chinese bitch was back in the game too.
        "This will be an evening of revelations, I'm sure," Jade said quietly. She stood slightly apart from Kabala, her arms folded, eyeing up her partner. Yes, Kabala - you have Purgatori where YOU want her. I, on the other hand, don't share your zeal for her death. She looked down at Purgatori, her mind swirling w/ different emotions. Ever since she had been in Purgatori's mind she had lost some of the drive that had brought her here. Unlike Kabala, Jade had come to terms w/ her existence during the course of the years. She didn't particularly like or appreciate it, but she had accepted what she was, and she had managed to exploit it to her own ends. She had hunted Purgatori w/ the expectation of getting revenge on some cold-blooded demon who had turned her and Kabala into vampires for some hideous joke, or for its own black purposes, but so far, her experiences of what Purgatori was and had been had thrown her totally off guard. She still didn't know what reasons Purgatori had had for creating them, but she now knew that she wasn't the nasty, stone-hearted monster she had always picture her creator as being. Or, at least, she hadn't always been. When she looked down at the tattered red figure pinned to the slab before her, all she could see was a young slave girl getting whipped. A young girl sobbing, running for an open window.
        The order of the night was to get the last remnants of the truth from Purgatori, and then play w/ her. During their journey here, Kabala had enthusiastically detailed a few things she intended to do to Purgatori when she had given up all her secrets, things that repulsed Jade. She intended to keep Purgatori alive for the same length of time that she had cursed them, and Kabala thought she could quite happily spend every day of those four thousand years dreaming up new excruciating torments for her. Now, Jade was facing a different dilemma : she didn't particularly want to join in the torture of Purgatori any more, but could she just turn her back and leave her, knowing what fate Kabala had in store for her? She held no allegiance to Purgatori, but she was an honourable woman, and in her heart, she didn't yet believe that Purgatori deserved what was going to happen to her. Maybe she had been a monster in the years since she had left them, but that was not Jade's concern. Her whole purpose for being here was to avenge herself for having been thrust into a world of darkness, but she was gradually losing all her lust for vengeance. She could have quite happily tortured some vile vampire who had spent their life spreading evil, but a young girl who seemed to have been driven to it through betrayal and abuse? She would have to see what further information Purgatori gave up, and then decide what to do. That led to another problem : if she ended up having to contest Kabala's decision then given Kabala's current frame of mind she would probably have to fight her, and she was still weakened from Purgatori's attack. And Jade was here alone - Kabala had her coven w/ her.
        Kabala walked over and grinned down at the limp figure. "This night you will die, Purgatori. I will feed your heart to my pets and relish every moment of your agony!" A bare-faced lie, as Jade knew, but Kabala thought it might be amusing to tease this scarlet whore. She would have every truth ripped from her, and when she thought it was all over and her pain was going to end, Kabala would  casually announce her true fate and it would utterly crush the wretched vampire. And that would just be the first of the amusements. "But first, we must know the truth! Why did you make us? Why did you condemn us to an endless existence amongst the undead?"
        This I would like to know, Jade admitted.
        Kabala placed her fingers to Purgatori's temples, and this time she was so weak she could do nothing but grimace and the impending pain. "Jade : enter my mind. Learn the truth w/ me!"
        And once again, Purgatori bucked in pain and howled as a psychic spike was driven into her head.

        Sakkara perched high on the rooftop of the Queen's temple, watching the guards struggling to deal w/ the growing mobs outside the main entrance. She could hear the shouting, the orders to move on, the protestations, and the threats. The men were complaining that the Queen's tomb project was killing them off one by one. They reasoned that if they all died then the tombs would NEVER get built, a rational enough argument Sakkara thought absently, but one that the guards weren't listening to. She watched them squabbling w/ mild disinterest, one consuming thought running through her mind. You betrayed me, Ostraca. BETRAYED me!
        She turned from the sight and flapped over to the main hall. She landed silently on one of the balconies and looked in on the ceremony. It appeared to be nearing its conclusion. The hall was sparsely filled, but those guests who were there were some of the most powerful people in the civilised world. Sakkara looked them over, intrigued by all the different costumes and appearances. She had found a new talent amongst her many new-found powers : if she concentrated on a particular individual, she could read their thoughts. She wandered her attention over the few people who took her interest, wondering who they were. There was a small but well-built man, dressed in some dark armour made of over-lapping lacquered plates, his helmet decorated w/ a golden crescent horned symbol, not unlike Isis's own. Here was that dark-skinned couple, still split by their secret feelings. Next to them were a couple dressed in identical shimmering scarlet robes that were heavily embroidered w/ golden brocade. Obviously father and daughter, Sakkara deduced, judging by their ages. The man was old,  and beginning to grey at his temples, but there was a look of wisdom about him. He snatched a glance at his companion, and Sakkara caught a flicker of weary resignation in his thoughts. "What will I do w/ her? If she continues her rebellious streak in Shanghai, our clan is doomed." Sakkara raised an eyebrow. She would know how to deal w/ an errant girl like that. And it would be most pleasurable too, she thought as she turned her attention to the girl. My, isn't she a pretty one? Sakkara had no idea where Shanghai was, but they grew their girls beautiful there. She had jet black hair, tidily bound up on her head and decorated w/ a tiara set w/ rubies to compliment her silk robes. Her skin was smooth and gorgeously pale, perfect and unblemished. Sakkara saw her eyes flick to her father, and caught her sad thought. "Poor father. What must he think of me at so harmonious a moment?" If she had time, Sakkara decided, she would tell her when she went down. But now, the priest was unrolling the last of his marriage papyrus - it was time for her great entrance. She jumped off the balcony and dropped to the main door.
        "Ostraca and Ramses," the priest intoned solemnly, "now and forever you are joined in marriage." He looked up at the couple before him. Ramses stood straight and proud, a look of pleased victory on his face : he had just managed to make himself the most powerful man in Egypt. Beside him, his new wife stood w/ her head lowered. Ostraca looked absolutely exquisite in her white silk and polished gold, but her outward appearance was the complete opposite of what she felt inside. The priest rolled the parchment closed and opened his mouth to conclude the ceremony.
        The heavy wooden doors crashed inwards, splintering into pieces and ripping from their hinges. Two of the guards just inside the doorway were killed instantly : one had the back of his skull pulped by a large timber, and the other had his heart pierced by a sharply splintered stake. Several of the guests screamed and backed away from the figure that stood on the threshold.
        Sakkara stood grandly, polished gold gleaming in harmony w/ her red skin. There had been four guards outside  :  she had killed them all w/out a sound. She held the remains of one of them in her hand, supporting the heavy body as easily as if it was a damp towel. She dropped it and strode into the temple. If she wasn't so consumed w/ rage, she would have been pleased w/ the effect her entrance had had.
        "So you believe you gather to see a union based on love?" she spat. "This isn't about love, it's about convenience!" Two of the guards rushed at her. She twisted out the way and threw one of them into a nearby pillar. He hit so hard that he almost embedded himself into the stonework, splitting open and spilling blood and brains everywhere. She grabbed the other by the throat and ripped it out, drenching herself and several nearby guests. They didn't seem happy. "You don't understand! Ostraca loved me! We talked and caressed, she held me in her arms, she married ME!" She hadn't intended to start preaching, but now the rage had a hold of her and all she could do was let it run its course. The tall dark-skinned male swung at her. She back-handed him across the face and blood and teeth flew. "Yet here she stands, giving herself TO ANOTHER!" Another figure in her way. She sank her teeth into its throat, swallowing the gushing blood, and then threw it away, only noticing then that it was the African female who hadn't wanted her baby. Oh well, maybe now she would get her wish. "Is that any way to live?" Sakkara snarled at Ostraca. She was cowering in the background, her precious general cowering beside her. How pathetic. This was the man she assumed would be strong enough to control the mob for her, was it? Sakkara grabbed the nearest person to her, that fabulous Oriental girl, and sank her fangs into her neck too. Her blood was delicious, but Sakkara barely took a mouthful before flinging her away into her father. "Is the cost of immortality worth the price you pay? No cherished moments. No grace. No splendour? No…love." Her voice cracked on the last word and she almost faltered, realising that the words were as applicable to her as they were to Ostraca, but then the other Oriental, the one in the dark plate armour struck her w/ a hard punch to the ribs, and that set the anger flowing again. She took his throat as well, biting at it and letting him go to bleed to death as she had the others. She leapt across the bodies and landed in front of Ostraca. "Is it, my Queen?" A pair of guards came at her, and she despatched them w/out even thinking about it, punching her hands right through them. "IS IT?!"
        Ostraca quailed at the blood-drenched apparition before her, wondering why it was talking to her like that. What on Earth could it be talking about, she had NEVER consorted w/ a creature such as this! And then she got a good look at the face, and despite the red skin and horns, she recognised that beautiful countenance instantly.
        "Sakkara!"
        "Yes, your little Sakkara," the figure hissed. "How I've changed, eh? I'm not your plaything any more, darling. The tides have turned." She strode up to them. Ramses backed up in terror, bumping into Ostraca and trapping her against the back wall as through trying to protect her - which was, actually, the last thing on his mind. "You've seen what I can do," Sakkara said deliberately, relishing the words, the reality of her superiority over the most powerful couple in Egypt. This was power, the power she had craved. And oh my, it was just as sweet as she had dreamt it would be. "You know your lives are in my hands."
        Ramses broke at that point, wrenching himself free of Ostraca's clinging grip and racing for the door. He got exactly two steps before Sakkara grabbed him by the neck and lifted him off the ground. Her other hand found Ostraca's neck and she gripped her tightly, sinking her nails into the skin.
        "How does it feel to be helpless? Like a leaf in a torrent, victim to the crushing waves of chance? Scary, isn't it? I should know, I lived my whole life like that. A life you changed…and then threw away!" Her hands were tightening in fury, and she made herself stop before she could accidentally break their necks and spoil her fun. "Come along, my pets. Your end has begun! I want you to see that everything you held dear is about to be destroyed. Just as you did to me!"
        She dragged them out into the courtyard and flew up to the rooftop over the main entrance again, carrying their weight w/ ease. The crowd that had gathered was very impressive indeed. The guards had been reinforced by every spare soldier at the temple and Sakkara realised now why she had had to contend w/ relatively few guards. The situation seemed ready to explode, and w/ a savage grin, Sakkara set a flame to the powder keg.
        "Listen to me!" Her voice carried out strongly over the street, cutting through the babble and the arguing. There was confusion as everyone stopped squabbling amongst themselves and looked around for the source of the voice, and then, when they saw it, the whole scene froze like a painting. "Do you tire of slaving  generation after generation for a faceless Queen who seeks to wring the life from you? Do you tire of wrapping your calloused hands to stop them from bleeding?" Sakkara paused, raking her gaze over the upturned faces. She could see that her words were driving home. "Do you long for your loved ones, your children? Do you tire of military rule?" She could see heads   nodding, only one or two, and very gingerly, as though they thought the soldiers would immediately spot them and drag them off, but only one or two was all it needed to get started. She raised her voice further and lifted up the happy couple for the mob to see. "Then I give you freedom! Freedom to exist for the sheer pleasure of living!"
        It certainly made an impact. She heard gasps, screams as people saw her. Fingers pointed. The guards milled around in confusion, split between trying to keep back the mob and trying to do something to help Ostraca and Ramses.
        "A demon!" someone shrieked. "A demon has the Queen and the general!"
        A ripple of agreements spread through the crowd, and then one loud voice cut them off.
        "Not a demon! A liberator!"
        And those five words sealed the fate of Alexandria. A group of angry workers saw that the attention of the guards next to them was on the figure on the rooftop, and they used the unexpected advantage to beat them to the ground and take their weapons. They attacked the soldiers who came to challenge them, and w/ their example the rest of the mob charged the scattered soldiers. It was carnage. The unarmed civilians were hacked and slashed by the well-trained warriors, but force of numbers gave them the advantage now that their fear of reprisals had gone. The guards were beaten to the ground and kicked and stamped to death. Their weapons were distributed and the mob moved into the temple and spread out through the city. Fires began to spring up around Alexandria as they looted and destroyed anything remotely connected w/ the royal family.
        Sakkara flew to the Queen's burial tomb, and found that, amazingly, the rioters had beaten her to it. Most impressive. Ropes had been cast around the statues flanking the stairway to the entrance, and effigies that had cost countless gold pieces and lives were pulled down and destroyed, thereby making the sacrifices of the people who died in their making worthless. They were getting ready to storm into the tomb w/ burning torches when Sakkara arrived, but as soon as she dropped down in front of them, still carrying the royal couple, they scattered. She dragged them inside, looking for the object she intended to use to execute her plan, a plan that had sprung into her mind during Rath's first lesson.
        She found it in the main vault. As soon as Ostraca saw it she began to fight even more frantically, as though realising the fate that awaited her. Sakkara dropped her in a mewling heap and sank her teeth into the general's neck, taking just enough of his blood to weaken him so that he couldn't scamper away while she dealt w/ the Queen. His blood was so sweet, sweeter than any she had tasted, even the blood of the  guards up in the mountain cave. Almost as though terror had added a little spice to it.
        Ostraca squealed and tried to melt into the floor as Sakkara squatted down beside her, gazing at her w/ those horribly sexy white eyes.
        "When I was a child, Ostraca, I looked at the tombs in awe," Sakkara said distantly. "I believe everyone is entitled to immortality if they want it, but the only ones who have a chance to obtain it are royalty, using the lives of common men to pave their way to the Duat." Her expression flickered for a moment, and Ostraca thought she could see tears at the corners of those glowing eyes. "I hated life…being a slave…nothing but pain and misery…and then you came along." Her hand reached out and she stroked her sharp talons lovingly along Ostraca's cheek, seeming not to notice the tremble it produced. "When we were together, I was so happy. I wished we could spend eternity together, in bliss…"
        She trailed off into silence and Ostraca swallowed w/ difficulty, wondering if she could talk her way out of this. "S-s-s-sakk - "
        Sakkara's hand suddenly clenched around a fistful of hair and yanked her head back. Ostraca screamed as she felt her neck punctured, felt her life being sucked from her. And then Sakkara's lips were gone, and Ostraca felt herself dragged across the floor by her hair.
        "I've got my wish," Sakkara said, and her voice was cold, so cold. "How could I deny you, my love?" She lifted Ostraca and Ramses up and dangled them over the object of her search : the Queen's sarcophagus. It was massive, an outer casing that would contain another, smaller, casket which would in turn contain a casket that held her actual body. "You want immortality…?"
        "Sakkara NO!" Ostraca screamed. She fought wildly now, managing to land a punch right on Sakkara's mouth. She didn't even flinch. Sakkara smacked their heads together, stunning them, and threw them into the gaping sarcophagus base.
        Sakkara lifted the lid of the casket, an immense slab of solid gold carved into Ostraca's image and decorated w/ lapis lazuli, turquoise, rubies, sapphires and half-a-dozen other types of precious stones. It weighed over four tons. Sakkara lifted if as if it was balsa wood and slammed it down into place. "…Then you will get it!" The last she saw of the Queen was her pale face, her eyes bulging like a frog's as her scrambled brain cleared enough to realise her fate. Sakkara dropped down onto the lid of the casket. She fancied she could feel a faint pounding from w/in through the soles of her feet, but that could have just been her imagination.
        The riots lasted for five days before the soldiers gradually managed to regain control. By that time however, the mobs had virtually ceased the rioting themselves, simply because there was nothing left to vent their anger on. Sakkara returned to the city each night as soon as the sun set, eager to see how far the fires had spread during her absence. She perched on one of the giant statues of the Queen that faced her tomb and kept the mob away : this was the only royal building to remain standing intact. The obelisks had fallen : Sakkara had seen the rioters drag down that immense needle that she had watched being erected on the day her life had changed forever. It had given her a thrill that was tinged w/ disgust : she remembered all the scores of slaves who had died during the making of that needle, died in the construction of something that should have lasted an eternity. It was now just meaningless rubble. She watched groups of people hack and chisel all traces of the Queen's name from walls and monuments, erasing her from history. She watched the flames for hours, entranced by their flickering dance. At midnight, the whole of Alexandria seemed to be lit by shimmering orange and gold. I created that, she thought w/ awe. It was as though she had created her own sunrise to replace the one she would never get to see again.
        On the fifth night, a group of men turned up at the tomb : the Queen's loyalists, supported by a large detachment of soldiers that had been hurriedly recalled from border outposts and other cities. Sakkara stood on her customary perch and watched them hurry into the building w/out noticing her. Word must have finally filtered back to them about where Sakkara had taken their royal couple. Barely concealing a grin of anticipatory delight, Sakkara slipped in through a roof window and made her way down to the main vault. She could hear the murmurings of frantic voices, and then a chanted  "Pull! Pull!" as a team of men fitted a hoist around the lid of the sarcophagus.
        It was perfect, satisfying in the extreme. When the lid was finally removed, a hideously wizened creature tried to claw its way out of the tomb. Its skin had shrunk over its body showing every bone of the skeleton, and its wild eyes bulged in madness.
        "Help me! Heeellp meee!" The voice was like a knife blade on glass, so different from her usual soft seductive tones.
        Sakkara stayed back in the shadows and watched the soldiers recoil in horror. She heard them scream as they realised who this apparition was, and who the other creature, only now struggling into view, was too. She watched them hack the creatures into many many pieces. She watched her only lover dismembered, quivering and twitching on the floor, shrieking for what seemed like hours as parts of her body were separated from her, until finally someone managed to take her head and silenced her forever.
        Sakkara looked at the body, all laughter gone from her, the feeling of victorious vengeance now tasting like ash in her mouth, and then she went back to her roost, to watch the last of the fires.
        "You should be proud of yourself, Sakkara."
        She whirled around and saw a shadowy figure hovering in the air beside her as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "Rath!"
        "My kind has no taste for civilisation," he said, gazing out at the flames. "You have done us a great service." He fell silent for a moment, and then looked at her w/ a smug sneer on his face. His eyes were cold, pitiless. His hand flashed out and clamped around her throat. "Your reward will be to obey my every command! My own personal slave. My harbinger of chaos!"
        Sakkara choked at the grip, but still managed to pull her lips back in a snarl of defiance. "Never! I'll die first!"
        And surprisingly, the crushing grip on her neck was gone. "Ah, you please me, young immortal! So many of our kind exist, but they do not live. They perceive themselves as undead, not quite alive!" His voice had a humorous tone, but she could hear the disgust in it too. He looked her up and down, like an army recruiter examining a potential new warrior. "But you…you have a lust for life that will not wither. Understand this Sakkara : we are more alive than anything else on this planet." He grinned at her again, slowly rising up and moving away from her. "Perhaps we shall meet again, Sakkara. Eternity has many paths that twist and turn -"

        Purgatori felt the probe yanked out of her head and suddenly Kabala was right over her, her face a few inches from her own, the fury coming off her in tangible waves.
        "You mean there was no great reason for creating us?" Her voice shook w/ disbelieving rage. "We were MISTAKES?!!" She stood, so completely taken aback and furious that for a moment she couldn't move. All those memories she had dredged up from Purgatori's mind had released some of her own. She remembered coming around on the blood-soaked floor of the temple as her husband shook her. She remembered the burning pain in her neck, the dizziness, the feeling of something indefinable spreading stealthily through her system.
        "Quickly! We must escape!" He helped her to her feet and then moved on to the Oriental couple who were coming around a few metres away. She saw the girl stand up groggily, a hand to her throat, saw w/ horror the blood there. All around her was a vision of some kind of  nightmare. Bodies were strewn everywhere, and bits of bodies that had become separated in the most violent manner.
        Only five of them made it out of the temple that night : her husband and herself; the Chinese couple; and the lone Japanese warrior. The journey through the city to the port where their ships had docked was a frightening one. Mobs were everywhere, fighting, burning, looting and killing w/ impunity. Most of the attacks seemed to be directed towards royal artefacts and supporters, but many of the rioters had seized upon the mayhem as an excuse to rob and rape at will w/ no fear of reprisal. Two men had made a grab for her, but the Japanese soldier had cut them down w/ a blindingly fast slash of his sword. They ran the whole way, dodging crowds of looters and overturned chariots and carts. Just as they reached the dock, the ground quaked as a deafening rumble rolled out over the city : when she looked back, Kabala saw that one of the tall stone needles had disappeared.
        When they reached the docks they found that the mob had already beaten them to it. The Chinese junk was in flames and sinking quickly : perhaps the rioters had mistaken the lavishly decorated ship as being one of the Queen's. A dozen or so of the crew had made it out onto the wharf and greeted their lord and lady w/ relieved bows. W/out spoken agreement, they all boarded Kabala's ship, her crew casting off immediately, the sails already fully unfurled and catching the winds. She had watched the port fall further and further behind, backlit by some truly impressive fires, and only let herself relax when she saw that they were safely out of range of any known weapons. She swallowed constantly, feeling the beginnings of some strange thirst. The Chinese girl was leaning over the railings, trying to retch, being comforted by her father. The Japanese warrior was sitting cross-legged on the deck, shaking slightly, rubbing at his throat.
        They had all been cursed that night, though they didn't realise it until several nights later. Kabala's thirst was worse. She had tried to quench it w/ variously water, wine and milk, and each time she had only managed a mouthful or two before vomiting. She tossed and turned, caught in the grip of some fever, and in the midst of some lurid dream she awoke to find her thirst sated. She awoke to find herself drinking blood from the ripped open throat of one of her crewmen. She recoiled in horror, horror at what she had done, horror at the pleasure she felt from the sweet taste of the blood. Her husband was there, clinging to the rail w/ whitened knuckles, his teeth chattering, but somehow he had retained his love for her. They had disposed of the body and nobody had been any the wiser until Jade took the next one the following night. After that they had had to tie up the remainder of the crew and the three vampires had finished them w/in a week. They ran the ship aground on the Namibian coast and began a long trek across country back to her own kingdom. Jade and her father had left them, but the women knew they shared some uncanny bond now, and they had remained in contact ever since. The Japanese soldier had stayed w/ Kabala. When he had learnt enough of her language to explain, he told her that he could not return to his village like this and he felt that they would have more strength and safety if they stayed as a group. And he had been w/ her ever since, taking on the role as her personal bodyguard when she needed, but living by himself a respectful distance away in a lone hut, as though he was embarrassed to associate w/ others of his own kind.
        Those thoughts flitted through Kabala's mind in an instant, spinning in a cyclone of hate and rage. "It was all just a moment of impulse? Of passion?! A WHIM?!" She was shaking now, every fibre of her body screaming w/ seething rage. "When my husband was discovered feeding me calves' blood he was stoned to death! I was cast out into the jungle! My bloodlust forced me to kill everyone I knew!"
        Jade stood in the background, her shoulders slumped. So, after all these centuries, it all came down to this. A mistake. An error caused by a moment of impetuosity. They had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Purgatori had borne them no ill will. She hadn't done it to torture them. How could she hate Purgatori after experiencing what she had just seen? In her place, she probably would have done exactly the same. Hadn't she herself ravaged an entire village, killing everyone in it after two of their menfolk had killed her father?
        Kabala, obviously, felt differently. "Beg for your life!" she snarled. She was shifting into cat form, her face becoming more feline, the pupils of her eyes becoming vertically elongated. Her voice had taken on the bass resonance of a tiger's growl. "I want to hear you whimper. Beg me for your precious existence, lover of life!" She flexed her fingers, her long feline claws hovering over Purgatori's face.
        Purgatori turned her head w/ difficulty. "No."
        Kabala spat in fury. She waved at her cats and they released Purgatori's limbs. The scarlet vampire twitched slightly but seemed incapable of any further motion. Kabala motioned at Jade. "Torture her! make her beg for her life!"
        Jade hesitated for a moment, then realised that there would be no bargaining w/ Kabala when she was in this sort of a mood. And, being alone here w/ none of her henchmen to support her, she would rather have that rage directed at Purgatori than herself. Her hair whipped out and wrapped around Purgatori's arms, dragging her off the sacrificial slab and slamming her to her knees on the ground in front of Kabala. Her hair pinned Purgatori's arms behind her tightly, holding her immobile as Kabala advanced, her face a dreadful picture of hungry expectancy and hate.
        "Just as you fated me - us - now your fate is in my hands!" She stood over Purgatori and bared her fangs. "Beg for your life," she hissed.
        Purgatori didn't answer.
        Kabala slapped her hard across the face, her talons tearing into the meat of her face. "Beg!" She slapped the silent vampire again, more thin trails of blood flicking through the air. "Beg!" Purgatori hung her head and Kabala yanked it upright by her hair. She slapped Purgatori w/ all of her strength and the noise of the impact echoed around the clearing. Purgatori's head was smashed sideways and Kabala heard her neck vertebrae crunch. Jade released her, and she just knelt there, hunched over  helplessly. And still she wouldn't speak. "BEG!!" She slapped Purgatori again w/ a blow that made her hand numb. It seemed to have done the trick : Purgatori was shaking, and when she laboriously raised her head Kabala saw how badly she had demolished her face. Her entire left cheek had been ripped away, leaving stringy wet sinews hanging down over her exposed jawbones. Her nose and lips were gone and a long ragged trench angled down from her forehead to below her right eye. Her jaws moved stutteringly as she tried to form words, and Kabala posed expectantly, a look of triumph on her face.
        "…i..in…your…d-dreams…bitch!"
        Kabala gave a howl of fury and smashed Purgatori w/ a blow that flung her halfway across the clearing. She knocked over a pair of the skull-torches and they fell into the undergrowth, setting fire to the vegetation. Kabala slashed an angry signal to her two favourite senior cats. "Tear her apart!"
        They slinked over deliberately, wanting to toy w/ her and drag this unexpected favour out as long as they were able. And over the years, they had honed  that particular talent to perfection. They closed in slowly, their powerful muscles rippling beneath their sleek hides, their sabre fangs bared in grins of pleasure.
        Purgatori's head moved minutely, and Kabala saw that gaze, almost faded completely now, fall on her contemptuously. "Have to send in your cats?" Purgatori croaked. "What's wrong Kabala? Afraid to fight me?"
        Kabala shivered w/ fear despite herself. What manner of creature was this Purgatori? Tortured and drained to near death w/ no hope of salvation, and still she refused to submit. Her will was completely indomitable, and Kabala was suddenly  very glad that she had not found herself facing Purgatori in any other state but this.
        The tigers stood over Purgatori's body, drooling on her face. She looked up at them, unable to smell their blood-fetid breath. She focused on their needle-sharp fangs and choked out the only thing that seemed suitable, something she had learned from hanging around Glenn Wolf.
        "F*ck you."
        They seemed to know what it meant. She saw one of them pull its head back, coiling up for a strike, and then both cats were pulled into the air. The loud staccato melody of snapping bones rattled in the night air. The huge dark figure cast the limp cats far into the jungle. Purgatori blinked, unsure of whether what she saw was real or just an illusion brought on by her agony. "R…Rath…" She could barely manage a whisper now. "Why…did…you…abandon me?"
        Rath slit his throat carefully, letting his power-drenched blood run down his body. "I needed to know if you were the same defiant creature I left as Alexandria fell to flames. I needed to know your limitations." He watched the stream of blood pool up on the waistband of his loincloth, saw her eyes following the same path w/ a scary hunger. "You have few. We can be of great help to each other, Purgatori…if you survive. Now; feed."
        The first drops fell directly into Purgatori's open mouth and she swallowed frantically, feeling the instant rush from the ancient blood. The drops became a trickle and she opened her flayed jaws wider, careful not to let any of the precious liquid leak out through the holes in her cheek.
        "That's right," Rath purred. "Feed!" He never detected the shadowy figure that leapt out of the jungle at his unprotected back.
        The long curved sword swept through the air and sliced through Rath's flesh as though it were butter. It was a blow designed to take the sword arm of an opponent and leave them alive for interrogation : the steel cut through Rath's right shoulder and sank down to his hip in one easy movement.
        The Japanese warrior pulled his sword free as Rath wailed in agony, his whole arm hanging off, attached only by a flap of skin. "You will not deny us our vengeance."
        Rath's blood spilled out of him in a torrent, drenching Purgatori in a scarlet waterfall of pure power. Every pore of her body opened to gulp in the liquid and the immense burst of arcane energies swept her up in a tidal wave of ecstasy.
        "Who dares -?" Rath growled. A twinkling dance of yellow energy licked up the lips of his wound and his flesh joined together, his arm affixing itself back in place w/ a slight crunch. He saw the soldier, standing in stupefied awe and his lips curled. "You lowly, arrogant thing! A samurai? It will take far, far more than your blade to vanquish me!"
        The samurai gaped at the spectacle. He comes together?! What is he? Not a common bloodsucker! What have I aligned myself against? He backed up, trying to think of a strategy that might be of use to him.
        "Ohhh Kabala!"
        The dark-skinned female tore her eyes from the sight of the demon she had seen in Purgatori's memories and gasped in horror. Purgatori stood in front of the fire she had started. Her clothes were little more than tattered rags, but her body was perfect, unblemished. Her eyes shone like white suns. She looked powerful. She looked unstoppable. She looked very, very pissed off.
        "Your blood-mother wants a word w/ you," Purgatori said in that same sing-song melody. "You and Jade have been very, very bad girls! And it's time to punish you!"
        Kabala quailed, but realised her only chance was to fight as hard and as viciously as she could. "Finish her!" she shrieked, unaware that the rest of her tigers had fled at the appearance of Rath. "Show no mercy!" She shifted into halftiger form and slashed out at Purgatori, raking her across the belly. Purgatori fell back w/ a gasp of pain, but a blow that was supposed to have disembowelled her was already healed. Kabala was pulled backwards by the fur on the nape of her neck and sprawled on the ground.
        "You're slowing in your old age!" Purgatori grinned.
        How did she move that fast?! Kabala thought in terror, the full realisation of what she was up against falling on her like a load of bricks.
        Purgatori rolled her onto her back and sat astride her, pinning her down. "What do you fear most, my dear daughter of darkness?" she sighed happily. "Let me dredge it from your subconscious and make you confront it!" She put her fingers to Kabala's temples and speared into her head ruthlessly, making the woman scream. "You see, I simply adore the taste of turmoil, and I want to taste yours!" She burrowed deep into Kabala's mind, pulling at the very fabric of her memories w/out melting into them. "Hmmmmm….An ancient village. Yours perhaps? Ah yes, there's your beloved husband bringing you some fresh calves to feed on! How quaint!" She sank deeper, coming across an image of Kabala holding a small limp bundle wrapped in cloths, her husband wailing in remorse in the background. She could see what the husband couldn't; could feel what he was unable to. "Amazing! Your baby! You never wanted it!" Purgatori threw her head back and laughed. "You wasted all these years blaming me for making you, yet I gave you what you secretly wanted! The baby's death!"
        "I was never that lucky!" Kabala said remorsefully. "It never died! But no! I never wanted the baby! It was my duty! It was expected." She sobbed in torment at the memory and shoved at Purgatori, knocking her off her. Purgatori twisted and  landed on her feet, still consumed w/ ironic mirth. The dark woman staggered to her feet wretchedly, now naked and back in her human form, and sprinted for the sanctuary of the dark jungle.
        "That's right, Kabala!" Purgatori urged, feeling the rise of excitement brought on by the prospect of a chase. "Go on, run!"
        Jade had retreated to the very fringe of the clearing, watching the events unfold around her w/ dismay. In her current state, still weakened from Purgatori's victory over her, she knew there was no way she could block Purgatori, never mind beat her in hand to hand combat. The creature she had felt sympathy for was now a raging demon, and she would hear none of Jade's excuses. If she had tried to stop Kabala from torturing Purgatori she might have had some leverage w/ which to bargain for her life, but she hadn't : she had backed the wrong player, big time. She had made a dangerous enemy now, and there was only one option left open to her : flight. She used every scrap of her power to open up a portal, a cruder and less powerful version of Rath's teleportation skills, and stepped through it, leaving Kabala to her fate. It was not an honourable way to go, but as Purgatori herself would have said, there was no death worse than a pointless one, and that was exactly how she would die if she stayed.
        Rath had grown tired of playing w/ the samurai, dodging his sword swings w/ blinding speed. He reached out w/ an open hand and tore the blood out of the warriors body, shredding his flesh. "Fool! I was thousands of years old when Purgatori made you! You are an infant to me! A new-born!" He drew the blood into himself, a meagre replacement for what he had lost to Purgatori.
        Kabala sprang through the tangled undergrowth w/ the agility of a gazelle, casting frantic glances behind her for signs of pursuit. She raced on, ducking under low branches and vaulting over half-buried boulders and thorny shrubs. She skidded to a halt by the ruined steps of an ancient ziggurat, abandoned by a long-forgotten race and long since swallowed by the voracious jungle, spun around and dropped into a crouch, hiding behind the broad trunk of a gnarled and twisted ancient tree that was festooned w/ thick vines. She listened and watched w/ her feline senses : nothing. She could hear no-one following her. That red bitch must have gotten caught up w/ that demon bastard who had killed her cats.
        She waited longer, just to be sure, then stood up shakily, sheened w/ sweat. What was she going to do now? She could only hide like a common thief, in the hopes that Purgatori and her frightening ally wouldn't waste time looking for her. Then she would have to try and reassemble what was left of her coven. And then, instead of seeking revenge, she would spend the remainder of her long life making damn sure she kept in the opposite hemisphere to Purgatori.
        She turned around and screamed as Purgatori grabbed her by the throat. So used to dealing w/ normal humans and vampires, she had made exactly the same mistake that Jade had : she had forgotten Purgatori could fly.
        "So now you have your precious little truth," Purgatori sneered. "You were nothing but a mistake. You don't think that I would have honestly considered you worthy of receiving the gift of immortality, do you? You have no vision. You could never possibly embrace the wonder of it all. As you have shown : all you do is spend eternity whining! I made you in a moment of impulse; how fitting that in another I shall take back my ancient blood." She let Kabala claw at her, her strength completely ineffectual against Purgatori's newly acquired power. "You are such a short-sighted creature. I despise calling you daughter, but it matters not. You have served my purpose."
        Her head dipped forward w/ the speed of a striking cobra and Kabala felt her teeth tear her neck open. Her strength went rapidly and panic rose in her at the feeling of helplessness it brought. She remembered all the things she had planned to do to Purgatori to make her pay for the millennia of torment she had suffered and wondered now if she was the one who would be held a helpless prisoner, to be tortured at Purgatori's whim.
        Purgatori pulled away from Kabala's throat, thick rivulets of blood spilling from her mouth. "You're drained. How do you feel? Like a helpless little baby? Pleasant isn't it?" she spat.
        "S-stop!" Kabala gasped.
        Purgatori looked at her w/ contempt and plunged her fingers into Kabala's chest. The woman screamed as Purgatori snapped open her rib-cage to reveal her heart, and tenderly ran her sharp nails over the quivering muscle. "Can you feel your heart about to beat again?" she asked softly. "After all these years, it's going to pump again. It is because your blood is gone. You're dying. As soon as it beats to a rhythm, you will die. Sense it," she breathed. "Just…moments…away…"
Kabala closed her eyes, feeling that awful pain grow as her body trembled on the very edge of doom. Finally. Blessed blackness. After all this time.
        The pain began to fade.
        Her eyes flew open and she saw Purgatori's mocking smile.
        "Oh, I know. You would prefer death, wouldn't you? After all, you've never really lived!" she laughed. She dropped Kabala onto the stone steps of the ancient temple and flicked a few droplets of blood off her hand. "I won't give you the satisfaction of the eternal black. Instead, I'll let you go on living! If you can call your pathetic existence 'living'!"
        Kabala choked in disbelief. "Wh-what! NO! Don't go! Don't deny me! What do I have to exist for?" The red figure just ignored her and strode unhurriedly away, her disinterest thoroughly humiliating. She tried to get up to follow, to maybe fight Purgatori and force her to kill her, but it was all she could do to even raise an arm.  "Don't go!!"
        Purgatori walked into the jungle, still relishing the feel of the power flowing around her body. She could feel her clothes beginning to slowly repair themselves. I've done it, she thought w/ a mixture of satisfaction and relief. She had a right to be proud : she had beaten some awesome odds to be standing here right now. I've accomplished my mission. My enemies are bested, I have acquired the ancient power I desired. She paused, looking up at the treetops, her senses quivering. Her enhanced vision caught the microscopic difference in the ambient light above her. Dawn! She flew fast into the darker depths of the jungle, where the light would not be able to penetrate for some hours yet. She would need time to find a place to hide until sundown.
        Behind her, Kabala felt the heat as the sun rose. She began to panic as the world lightened around her, beginning to sting her eyes : she wanted to die, but not like this, not in this horrifying way. She tried to scrabble her way off the steps and found she couldn't even roll over. The sun crept over the temple and her arm burst into flames. She screamed in agony as the broiling light ate its way slowly across her body, searing the flesh from her bones, scorching her eyeballs out of their sockets. The light spread into her open chest cavity and vaporised her heart, and in that very instant Kabala finally got her wish as her body obliterated itself, leaving nothing but a smoking skeleton scattered over the steps of the ziggurat.
        Purgatori heard the screams, and the final whumph! of destruction and smiled thinly to herself. It appears I've mellowed w/ age! By leaving her there I've given her what she wanted : death! A shape unfolded itself from the undergrowth and the smile dropped from her lips as she saw who it was.
        "Come Purgatori," Rath said. He made a gesture, and the rippling portal of the Nexus opened before them. "There is much for you to see, much for you to learn."
        "Oh, really?" Purgatori said tartly. She spat in his face, and for a moment he was too stunned to react. "To Hell w/ you! You may have made me, but you do not possess me! You never did and you never will!"
        "You ungrateful whelp -!"
        "Ungrateful?! Did you think I would side w/ you after you subjected me to your petty little tests?! I am not your plaything! Remember that should our paths cross again! Remember that well!"
She took off w/ one beat of her wings and flitted off into the blackness of the jungle before Rath could react. She wasn't too concerned about him : she had humiliated him, but she was renewed now and he was still weakened. He would have his hands full dealing w/ the advancing dawn anyway. Once again her personality had decided her fate for her : she could have gone w/ him, using the Nexus to leave this wretched planet, but Rath had abused her and almost killed her, used her for his own purposes and, like the episode w/ Berenice so many years ago, she would refuse to allow herself to go w/ him, no matter what the benefits.
        Purgatori skimmed through the jungle looking for a haven, and finally found a rather agreeable one : a deep cave half-hidden behind a thundering waterfall. She lay down to relax on the thick spongy moss that lined the floor and walls and let her mind consider her future plans. She needed to get back to America. How could she do that? She didn't have Wolf here to help her, and she had lost her link w/ him : she couldn't send him a telepathic message to come and aid her. He would still have his link to her, but she hadn't taught him how to use it properly. He would be waiting patiently for her to turn up again, presumably w/ her new sword, blissfully unaware of how close he had come to never seeing her again.
        How to get back? How to get back…
        She closed her eyes and listened to the sweetly exotic birdsong from outside the cave, the soothing rumble of the falling water. Relax. Yes. She was renewed now, stronger than she could have ever hoped for. W/ her new power she could shapeshift again. Her sorcery would be stronger. Apart from Rath, she doubted there was another serious threat to her on the planet, unless Jade returned w/ a boatload of allies.
        She allowed herself a confident smile. She would rest here today and then make her way back to Alexandria, or maybe Cairo, and from there she would make her way back to America. And then, reunited w/ an ally and hopefully armed w/ her new weapon, she would begin the first steps to regain her full powers.
        And then, she would begin plans to pay a visit to Lady Demon.