Adrian Phoenix - In the Blood

Lilith carefully extended her senses, seeking spiked psionic or mental energy, anything out of the ordinary, but detected nothing.

Dropping her veil back into place, tinting her vision red once again, Lilith drew in another calming breath of myrrh-smoked air and slipped inside the creawdwr ’s receiving chamber—a room that had been empty for over two thousand years.

Moonlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows in the east wall, pale and sheer, a thin, ghostly reflection of the silver and vibrant light that used to flow in through those windows.

Gehenna dies .

Pushing back her veil, Lilith forced herself to cross the sky-blue marble floor at a normal pace, forced herself to keep her mind ordered and her heart calm. She couldn’t afford to be discovered in this chamber, not with what she carried. She stopped at the black marble dais leading up to the silk-draped perch.

His name is Dante, a born vampire .

The air smelled stale and dusty, as empty as the throne above her.

Stepping onto the first riser, Lilith seized a corner of the protective silk sheet and yanked. The gold material rippled to the floor like water over rocks and fell against Lilith’s feet. Watery moonlight waved against the black, blue-veined marble chair. A center support arrowed up at the back with hollows at either side for wings. The legs and armrests had been carved into scaled dragon limbs, taloned paws inset with sapphires and iridescent opals.

The Chaos Seat. From here a creawdwr wove chaos into ordered life.

Twin pangs of loneliness and regret bit into Lilith. She remembered the face Yahweh had possessed before he’d transformed it into a pillar of blazing light in his madness—handsome, golden-haired and golden-winged, intelligent dark eyes, a smile that had needed to be coaxed to his lips, but a smile well worth the effort.

A smile that his calon-cyfaill s, Samael—no, Lucien —and Astoreth, had good-naturedly competed with each other to elicit. Later, Yahweh’s smiles had flowed freely and at moments that had held no laughter, no joy, no cause for celebration.

She remembered Lucien’s anguish: We can’t stop it. His sanity’s slipping .

Remembered her answer: Perhaps he needs to be bound by more than two, my love. Perhaps his power is too strong, too chaotic, for a simple triad balance .

Lilith pushed away the past. Regret had burned bright within her once, but had long since flickered out. Right or wrong, she’d done as she’d believed necessary for Gehenna and for Yahweh.

Lucien claimed the same, but the memory of that awful night so many centuries ago still poisoned her dreams.

“What have you done?”

Lilith whispers her question, but each word bangs like a hammer against her temples. Her head throbs with pain. Outside, the ground ripples and quakes and it feels as though Gehenna will tear itself apart. She clutches at the doorjamb .

Newly made beings wing into the sky only to unravel and scatter into the wind .

Samael …Lucien… bleeds from his nose and ears. He clutches Yahweh close against his chest. No light blazes from the creawdwr ’s face. Motionless on the marble floor beside her calon-cyfaills, honey-haired Astoreth stares empty-eyed at the ceiling. Blood rims her eyes like kohl and her lovely face is bloodied at ears and nose .

“What have you DONE?” Lilith screams the last word. Pain drops her to her knees on the cold, hard floor. She grabs at Yahweh’s shoulder .

Lucien smacks her hands away and levels her a look that chills her to the bone and freezes her hands in midair. “You’ll never use him again.” He returns his gaze to Yahweh, his expression tender. “He’s free.” Lucien drapes his hair over the creawdwr ’s face, a silken black shroud .

“Murderer!” Lilith wails .

LILITH DREW IN A deep breath of incense and jasmine and shoved the past away once more. Lucien’s unexpected presence had dusted off her memories and lifted them into the light. She centered and calmed herself, then climbed the steps to the Chaos Seat. She needed to verify her former cydymaith ’s claims.

His name is Dante, a born vampire. He’s twenty-three years old .

Reaching into the black velvet purse tied to her belt, Lilith pulled out the prize she’d slipped unnoticed from a pocket of Lucien’s trousers while he hung in the pit. Blood dotted the wrinkled scrap of paper like a seal. Creawdwr magic whispered against her fingers. Her hands trembled ever so slightly.

If this was genuine and not some trick Lucien had designed to make a fool of her, then the gems on the Chaos Seat would glow. Only a creawdwr ’s magic could awaken the Seat.

Bending, Lilith touched the blood-smeared paper to the black marble.

The Chaos Seat burst into flame.

Lilith stumbled backward and her sandaled foot slipped off the step. She fell from the dais, but caught herself with a quick sweep of her wings and lowered her feet to the hard floor.

Fire engulfed the black marble throne, cool flames radiating out around it like a twilight aura—blue, green, and purple. The sapphires and opals blazed with intense color, and Lilith lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the Seat’s cold-sparkling brilliance.

Luminescent color like evening’s first blush glimmered throughout the room.

Lilith’s heart winged frantically against her ribs. She’d never seen such a display from the Seat before, not even when a creawdwr had occupied it. And with only a drop of a child- creawdwr ’s magic-infused blood. Her mouth dried.

His name is Dante, a born vampire. He’s my son .

Fola Fior and Elohim.

Never in the history of the Elohim had there been a mixed-blood creawdwr .

Possibilities pranced through Lilith’s mind. Her pulse soared.

Lilith swooped to the top of the dais and snatched up the blood-dotted piece of paper. The fire and shimmering color vanished. The room darkened, and she blinked bright spots from her vision.

Swinging around, she dipped her wings, grabbed the silk sheet, and redraped the Seat. Unshielded minds pressed unknowing against hers and she knew it was just a matter of time before one of the servants stumbled across her.

Or worse, Gabriel.

Landing on the marble floor, she folded her wings behind her, and hurried from the room. She reached for her veil, but it was gone. Panic waterfalled down her spine. Spinning around, Lilith raced back into the receiving chamber.

Her veil rested on the dais’s bottom step, a streak of blood against all the black stone. She picked it up and slipped it over her head, draping the ends over her shoulders.

“What a pleasant surprise, little dove,” a low and honey-sweet voice said.

Even though her heart jumped into her throat, Lilith managed not to jump along with it. She finished arranging her veil, then turned around to face a red-tinted Gabriel. “I hope I didn’t disturb you,” she said, pleased her voice was level. “I couldn’t sleep.”

He leaned against the doorjamb, in kilt and sandals, his hair plaited into a single, thick braid, his wings tucked away into his back pouches. A knotted torc encircled his throat. He flashed her a sympathetic smile. “Me either.”

“No rest for the wicked,” Lilith said, returning his smile.