Blood Covenant

By Marilyn Lamb

Widow Hannah Kristan travels to Massachusetts to meet her late husband’s guardian, unaware she is being lured into a trap with her baby son. Once there, she discovers that, not only is the guardian dead, but neither is her husband, Adrian.

Or is he?

Jonathan Cravers lives a haunted half-life, a vampire cursed to subsist on innocent blood. Desperate to maintain the family line sworn to protect his hideous existence or face Hell’s punishment, he manipulates Hannah into an inescapable web of deception. Her discovery of the truth forces him to take drastic action, pushing her into a well of despondency she hasn’t the will to fight.

Angela Marshall, Hannah’s cousin, possesses a psychic gift she considers a curse. A devout Christian, she struggles to deny her premonitions, but not when they reveal Hannah’s peril. Resolving to save her, she travels to Hannah’s side, confronting the master of her cousin’s torment. Only she perceives the evil lurking in Jonathan Cravers’ eyes.
Is she strong enough to resist? Can her faith save her from the horror she sees?

Nathanial Cravers, a theologian, arrives to investigate his family roots. Facing an impossible past, he is torn between the principles of his faith and allegiance to his ancestor.

Together, he and Angela strive to help Jonathan come to terms with his condition and understand possibilities never considered before. But his conviction that only blessed blood can spare him may condemn Angela to a state more appalling than his own.

Invisible to the mortal realm, angels, both celestial and fallen, battle for the human souls. But will their influences save or condemn the Cravers family?

Which will prevail—the power of Heaven or Hell?

Rated #5 on Besthorror.com top 10 Christian Horror reads of 2009!

“The writing pulsates with excitement...story lends itself well to the vampire/horror genre. The crosscutting of scenes and shifting between viewpoints is cinematic in nature...entertaining plot could easily appeal to a wide audience...characters are, individually and collectively, strong enough to command center stage throughout the novel...and engage the reader’s interest in wanting to know what will happen next.”

Judge, 22nd Annual Writer’s Digest Self-Published Book Awards

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marilyn Lamb
• Release date: May 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9780978461966

Marilyn Lamb

Marilyn’s fascination with vampires began in her early teens, when she wrote the first draft of Blood Covenant. Many years after that original draft, and after becoming a born-again Christian, Marilyn rewrote the story from a Christian perspective. Curiosity and speculation blended to create a novel that ended in a way even she found surprising.After five rewrites, many submissions, almost as many rejections (who can visualize vampires in a Christianity-based story, anyway?), some positive and encouraging feedback, she decided to self-publish.An avid reader from an early age, the love of putting words together, of creating worlds, intriguing characters and compelling plots, seemed a natural next step. Marilyn spends her days traveling in her mind to times and places she has never known, putting those adventures onto the page.A wife, mother and grandmother, Marilyn enjoys time with her family. She lives in Central Ontario with her husband and two cats.

Book preview

Dedication

Opening Quotes

Prologue - Perilous Return

Part I - In Mortal Fear

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Part II - Blood Ties

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Part III - Divine Love

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Epilogue - Unholy Vow

Author’s Note

About the Author

Dedication

This work is dedicated first to the glory of God, from whom all talents and blessings come.

I would also like to thank Tom Arnett, from whose constructive criticism this version evolved. You are missed, beloved teacher, mentor and friend. Also, thanks to David Robie, whose thoughts added fuel to the fires of inspiration.

Special gratitude goes out to Pastor Dr. LeRoy Pennell for his patient counsel. After some of the strange questions and speculations I posed, he’s still undoubtedly trying to figure me out!

Also, to some noteworthy friends, Cindy P., Linda Q., Eva T. and Lorri P., who gave freely of their time, opinions and suggestions.

Lastly, but certainly not least, I thank my family; Fred, Christopher and Rebecca; for putting up with me, vampires and all.

Quotes

Of how much sorer punishment, suppose ye, shall he be thought worthy, who hath trodden underfoot the Son of God, and hath counted the blood of the covenant, wherewith he was sanctified, an unholy thing, and hath done despite unto the Spirit of Grace?

Hebrews 10:29

Woe unto them that are wise in their own eyes, and prudent in their own sight!

Isaiah 5:21

Prologue

Perilous Return

Night had not yet fallen, but under a sky heavy with sleet laden clouds, barren, skeletal tree branches shifted restlessly in the wind while pines stood tall and stately against the somber background. A lone rider galloped toward a gray stone house as gloomy as the sky—and every bit as unwelcoming.

They watched from a distance, three shining forms hidden among the trees, one tall and powerfully built, sharp featured, with a mane of silver hair floating around broad shoulders and matching the iridescence of his eyes. Another, smaller of stature but equally robust, had softer features, bronze flowing hair cascading down his back and a molten shimmer to his gleaming gaze. The third exuded a golden light, features even, gilded hair shorter and floating halo-like around his head. All were garbed in glistening robes of purest white light with sword belts cinching their garments about their waists.

They dimmed their radiance to avoid detection by sinister forces surrounding the stone mansion that man and steed approached, unaware of the invisible evil.

I must go with him. The bronze-haired angel called Lukkas made to separate from his Heavenly companions, but the grasp of a firm hand stayed his flight.

No, Lukkas. They are too formidable to vanquish without the strength of unshakable faith. We dare venture no nearer that place of darkness. The powerfully built Krikor retained his grip on Lukkas’s arm.

But my charge! Lukkas strained toward the hunched form on the horse as they neared a wrought iron gate. If we cannot overcome them, how will he?

Hush. He has been seen. The warning came from Searle, the golden attending Guardian.

The air around the massive house came alive, the enveloping murky fog veiled to the human plane erupting into pinpoints of light. Eerie blood red and sulphur-yellow eyes blinked in the mist that was not mist, but a horde of demons keeping vigil.

The rider leaped from his horse to push the gate open. It screeched in protest, the jarring sound eliciting a moan from Lukkas. The man led the horse through, shoulders bowed against the rising wind, then turned to push the portal shut again.

The dark mist expanded, demons slipping closer to the visitor. The night echoed with whispers and subdued cackles as they recognized him.

Adrian.

You have come home.

To fulfill your destiny.

The covenant is safe.

With grotesque leathery wings spread wide, they encircled the young man until they hid him from sight.

Welcome.

He waits.

For your blood.

On the parchment.

The price of your life.

Your soul.

Your son!

No o o o! Lukkas’s energy brightened and extended as anguish threatened to propel him from his companions. Come away, Adrian! Now! Before it is too late!

Lukkas, refrain. We were dispatched to watch and counsel, not to fight. Krikor reached for Lukkas’s arm, but he flickered away from his grasp.

No! I will not let him enter this tribulation alone.

Lukkas streaked away, ignoring Krikor’s shout of warning. Drawing his gleaming sword from the scabbard, he focused on Adrian setting his hand to the ornate door. Projecting angelic energy, he urged Adrian to stop, change his mind, descend to his horse and ride away.

A cloud of demons swarmed to deflect the missive just as it reached Adrian, shattering it into shards of light that dissolved like falling stars. They hovered in Lukkas’s path, needle-sharp teeth bared, with guttural growls gurgling from their throats.

The door opened, and Adrian stepped inside.

Lukkas surged forward, sword raised. He would protect his charge, no matter the cost.

Nor would he fight alone.

Krikor and Searle hurtled from the trees, swords drawn, to join in the fray. They would not let their comrade engage Lucifer’s minions without support.

The air about the house grew darker, denser, as the demonic ranks swelled to defend what had been their unchallenged territory for a very long time.

Part I

In Mortal Fear

Chapter 1

Tall Pines, Massachusetts — November 1867

His hand on the door handle, Adrian nearly changed his mind about entering, an inner voice urging him to stop, descend the stairs, mount his horse and ride away.

But for the sake of Hannah and their unborn child, he could not.

Removing his hat and heavy cape, he tossed them onto a deacon’s bench and paused to gaze about the opulent entry hall.

Though this gracious manor had been home for the first twenty two years of his life, now it was a comfortable clapboard farmhouse in Ohio, Hannah smelling of fresh bread dough and lemon oil, a fire blazing in the parlor hearth, and a cup of hot cider before supper.

What was Tall Pines, then? A prison, a dank dungeon of misery and death; a place where immortality took on sinister meaning.

So, you’ve finally returned.

Adrian had detected no footfall or any shadow of movement, so the resonant voice from the top of the stairs caught him by surprise. His head snapped up, and he met the piercing gaze of the man standing above him.

Jonathan. I didn’t expect you to be up. Coldness edged his soft-spoken voice. Jonathan’s thin lips curled into a shrewd smile.

I knew you were here, so I wanted to greet you personally. He gestured to the large windows that graced the vestibule. The conditions are more than adequate for my early …rising. He descended the curved staircase, one hand running lightly along the carved banister. Adrian noted he held a rolled ivory parchment in his other hand.

How did you know? I didn’t inform anyone I was coming.

Have you forgotten how sensitive I am? How aware of the doings of those who are… bound to me? Standing now at the foot of the stairs, Jonathan's dark eyes narrowed as the glow of lamps illuminating the foyer seemed to set his brown eyes alight with a reddish glimmer. But, come. We have business to address. He wheeled and strode along a dark hallway to the right of the stairs. Adrian could not repress a shiver as he followed in silence.

They entered the library, where a fire burned in the hearth. Jonathan proceeded to a reading table that dominated the center of the room. He rolled the parchment out on it, placing a brass candlestick at each end to hold it flat. Drawn almost involuntarily, Adrian neared to scan the old document.

I knew it was merely a matter of time before you came to your senses, lad. Jonathan placed a hand on his shoulder, and Adrian shuddered at the icy touch. This only requires your signature to be implemented.

Adrian read the graceful, flowing script that had faded over the years.

Hereby is committed for the price of surety and profit, lifelong servitude to Jonathan Cravers. In return for protection, we of the bloodline of Edward Cravers are spared vengeance and are granted wealth as executors of Tall Pines and other diverse holdings of the aforesaid Jonathan Cravers. Heretofore is pledged by the signing of this covenant in the blood of the father of each generation, the life and continuing servitude of all first born and/or living sons of the line of Edward Cravers.

Inscribed this 3rd day of December in the Year of our Lord, 1726.

The signatures below were a sickly brown compared to the black body text, some of which were underscored with runny streaks that had faded to a dull tan.

Edward Cravers.

Aldred Cravers.

Tobias Cravers.

Lawrence Cravers.

And now your name will be added. Jonathan stood with hands clasped behind him, satisfaction in his eyes.

No. My name isn’t Cravers. Nor do I have any desire to sign this…blood pact. Adrian straightened and started to move away but a slender hand snaked out to seize his arm with the strength of several men, belying its almost delicate appearance.

You will sign the covenant. The name does not signify. It is the blood that matters. The rubescent shimmer of Jonathan’s eyes brightened. Adrian stared, fascinated, knowing their eerie brilliance was not the result of the room’s illumination. It is time to fulfill your destiny of servitude to me!

No. Adrian shook free, aware that Jonathan voluntarily released him. There is only one master who merits my servitude. He lifted his chin, indigo eyes sparking defiance. And that is Almighty God.

God? Jonathan’s brows arched. What nonsense is this? You were raised with the single goal of fulfilling your blood destiny. And until the regrettable liaison with Tamara Mills, you were content with that.

Well, things have changed. Adrian folded his arms, his stance obdurate. Since my marriage I’ve discovered the simple truth of salvation, the joy of submission and the freedom of servitude to the Lord.

So why have you returned, then? Jonathan stepped closer, and it seemed he stretched taller. But Adrian recognized it as a trick of perception meant to intimidate. He stood his ground.

Because of Lawrence’s letter. I couldn’t let him die with the last words we spoke being ones of anger. Adrian met Jonathan’s glare. He warned me that you were contemplating a journey to Ohio to…visit us. The last thing I want is for you to ever lay eyes on my wife or child! He started forward. I should find Lawrence—

Not yet. A steely hand shot out to grip his arm again, and Adrian could not shake it off. We haven’t concluded our…business.

As far as I’m concerned, we have! Adrian stared into Jonathan's eyes, determined to fortify himself against their overpowering domination. But it was as though a compelling fog emanated from those hellish eyes to enshroud and caress his spinning senses. Within it were the softest of whispers; macabre words not understood, but their meaning terrifyingly clear. Adrian gazed, mesmerized, into the incandescent pools of light.

You cannot escape your fate, lad. Jonathan's seductive murmur drew Adrian more deeply into his spell. When Lawrence put his signature to that document, he committed your life along with his. It is mine to claim and control. No matter what religious claptrap you’ve absorbed since leaving here, your life is still mine. He pulled Adrian closer. And once your name is on the covenant, your son’s will be mine as well!

No! With supreme effort, Adrian summoned the will to break free of Jonathan’s control. Reaching into his pocket with his free hand, he drew out a brass crucifix and shoved it at Jonathan. In the name of God the All-Powerful—

Jonathan caught his wrist and squeezed until bone-crushing pain choked off Adrian’s words and his grip on the cross loosened. A quick flick of Jonathan’s hand sent it thudding to the floor where it skidded to land with a clang against the bottom of one of the molding of a tall bookshelf.

So you thought to defeat me with the trappings of your new doctrine? Well, Adrian, within this family, I am God!

The swarming enemy surrounded the angels, leaving no room for retreat. Krikor slashed at dark, hovering bodies while Searle jabbed at the inky forms clustered around Lukkas. But even their supreme skill failed to disperse the black mass that encased their companion so closely that he could not lift his blade against them. They flitted so swiftly around him that Searle’s jabs missed every time. Lukkas’s shouts of rage were muffled by the cloying adversaries, but he would not concede. Not as long as his charge had the will to withstand.

Nor would his comrades abandon him.

Jonathan pulled Adrian so close that he could see nothing but his fiery eyes.

If not for me, my lad, you would not exist. I control life and death in this house. I possess your mind, your body, your very soul! As conditioned by the covenant, each son of Edward’s line is committed to me at conception.

But I’m not a Cravers, Adrian protested, trembling in the painful, unyielding grip. My name is Kristan.

The name does not signify! Jonathan hissed. You are Cravers by blood and know it full well!

How can you be so certain I’m not Peter Kristan’s son? Adrian persisted.

Because there was no child in your mother’s womb when he died. Jonathan did not release him, but his grip slackened marginally. Women cannot hide the cycles of their bodies from me, and she had one more course after Peter left. Lawrence would never marry, determined there would be no son to continue the covenant. Nor would he lay with a woman until she conceived outside the marriage bond. He smiled, a slow, wicked curling of his lips. Because of the covenant, I could not compel him, but it didn’t protect Viola from my… influence. Lawrence was unable to resist her when I made her go to him again and again until you were conceived. So your life, my lad, is mine.

Adrian refused to capitulate. Peter would have claimed me had he returned from that voyage.

Ah, but that is the very reason he did not return. Though I didn’t captain the vessel he sailed on, I used my…authority to…arrange his death. Some men will do anything for a few pieces of gold. Having him heaved overboard in the midst of a storm could never be distinguished from an accident!

When Jonathan released him unexpectedly, Adrian rubbed his throbbing arm and glanced to where the cross glittered in the firelight.

You fiend! He took a backward step toward the cross, but Jonathan’s hand darted out to seize his afflicted wrist once more. Adrian winced, unable to tear his gaze from Jonathan’s eyes. I won’t let you use me or my wife and child! I’ve found peace, and I will not surrender it to your tyranny!

But you could have so much, Adrian. Jonathan touched his wrist with gentle fingers, and the pain ebbed under his tender ministration. Wealth beyond your wildest dreams, this house, clothes and jewels for your wife that would be envied by a queen. No more laboring in the fields under a scorching sun. Servants to attend your every need. A prominent place in society. Many people would sell their souls for those things!

I won’t. Adrian’s gaze dropped to the fingers that caressed his wrist. My soul is destined for a higher plane, and even you can’t change that!

Jonathan lifted Adrian’s wrist and touched cold lips to the inner vein with a sly smile.

I saw the daguerreotype miniature you sent Lawrence. Your wife—Hannah; isn’t that her name?—is really quite lovely. She would be stunning in satins and silks with diamonds adorning her slender neck. He continued to stroke Adrian’s wrist until the pain numbed. Consider it, Adrian. You could give her and your child a place in society they would never have on that dreary farm. Don’t they deserve the best in life?

Adrian’s lips parted, but the rebuttal wouldn’t come. He wanted to say that they did have the best; the assurance of Heaven, salvation through the grace of God; but he couldn’t bring himself to utter the words. Something wrapped him in silence, his thoughts slipping from him. He envisioned Hannah with her auburn hair, her sweet smile, her loving grey eyes, in the satins Jonathan described, diamonds glittering at her throat and ears. Oh yes, she was dazzling, exquisite, more beautiful than Adrian could ever have dreamed with her velvet alabaster skin and limpid eyes.

So lovely, Jonathan breathed, sharing Adrian’s image of Hannah with corporeal clarity. It’s been too long since a woman of refinement graced these rooms. Your Hannah would fill that role perfectly.

Yes, Adrian whispered, spellbound by the shimmering vision. She’s everything to me. Everything!

The demons buzzed like enraged bees, their knife-edged teeth gnashing the air around Lukkas as he dodged the venomous needles. But there was no eluding the furious horde once Adrian’s obsession with his wife consumed his reeling mind. Though Lukkas heard the shouts of Krikor and Searle outside his humming cocoon, he could no longer see even the glimmer of their arcing swords.

Fight him! Lukkas cried, his sword quivering uselessly at his side as the tiny demons enfolded him tighter. Do not let his beguilement eclipse your love for the Lord!

Then bring her to me! Jonathan laid his other hand on Adrian’s shoulder, eyes locking forcefully with the younger man’s. Bring her and the child where they belong.

I can’t, Adrian mumbled. The baby is not yet born.

Damnation! Jonathan’s hand tightened. How soon?

Within the month. He tried to draw from Jonathan’s tenacious hold. I have to go back…

Not before the covenant is signed!

Those words reached Adrian’s subconscious clearing it of the cobwebs of confusion.

No! I’ll never sign your…hell pact! He tried to pull away. Where is Lawrence? I came to see him.

I’m afraid that isn’t possible. He’s…not here.

Not here? What do you mean? Adrian scowled. Where is he, then?

Where you will never reach him. At least, not in this life.

Realization struck, fuelling Adrian's anger—and his resistance.

He’s dead, isn’t he? What did you do to him?

I did nothing. It was his heart. It simply…gave out. Jonathan shrugged.

How long ago?

What does it matter? He’s gone, and the question of timing isn’t going to change that.

Adrian’s eyes widened in comprehension and renewed horror.

That last letter didn’t come from him, did it? It was you forging Lawrence’s handwriting! You used the one way to lure me back; my connection to my…father. Tears blurred his vision. Why did you kill him?

I didn’t, Jonathan rasped. He refused to write that letter, and my attempt to…persuade him was more than his wretched heart could withstand. I didn’t intend him to die.

I should have guessed, especially when he advised me to stay away before. I thought it was failing health prompting his plea for reconciliation. But it was you all along. Well, I won’t be your pawn! Not any longer. Nor will I condemn my children. If this one is a girl, all your manipulations will have been for naught.

No, Jonathan contradicted. If this one is a girl, then I’m certain you will derive great pleasure from impregnating your lovely spouse again. And again. And again, until a male heir is sired.

Hannah is not a brood mare kept for your convenience! Adrian retorted, eyes flashing with outrage. Nor am I a stud to service her at your whim!

Oh? Jonathan grinned provocatively. Does she know about your decadent past? How you gained your husbandly prowess? Truly, it astounds me that there isn’t an army of your little…indiscretions populating our fair region. His eyes gleamed in amusement at Adrian’s glare. However, had you fathered any by blows, I would have detected and claimed them as I do you. Legitimate or not, the blood line rules.

I wish I had so you’d leave me alone now, Adrian seethed between clenched teeth. If Tamara had lived—

She was a whore! Jonathan shook him, and pain returned to his wrist in a dizzying rush. The bastard she carried was not yours. She devised the deceit in the hope of landing herself in a position of comfort and social acceptance. However, what she landed in was my arms in the dead of night. And what a succulent little trollop she was. His eyes burned with lust. I assure you, she died with a gratified smile on her rosy mouth!

You miserable— Adrian broke off, jerking his arm in a futile attempt to escape. I knew it was you. That’s why I left. Dr. Robertson tried to blame wolves—again—but it was just too much of a coincidence. His face contorted in revulsion. Do you take delight in tearing out their throats after you drain their blood? Or is that just a ruse to fool the gullible townspeople?

I delight in their blood, Jonathan amended with a smirk, however, it does pain me when I must commit mutilation to mask my acts. He drew Adrian back to the reading table. I do what is necessary in the name of self preservation. Adrian balked, but he could not fight Jonathan’s extraordinary strength. Come now, lad. It’s time. He lifted Adrian’s wrist again and curled his upper lip back, baring the unnatural long, finely pointed fangs that were his upper canines.

Krikor and Searle confronted the pulsing wall of hatred, myriad crimson and amber eyes glaring at them. Beyond, they heard Lukkas’s despairing cries.

We must withdraw, Searle lamented, but without Lukkas—

There will be no withdrawal without Lukkas. Krikor stood his ground, sword extended and shivering with righteous light. We will not abandon him.

Searle drifted to stand at the side of his captain.

Then we will rescue him, he declared with soft fervor, lifting his sword once more, if rescue is remotely possible.

That depends entirely on Adrian. Krikor slashed through a spearhead of inky, screeching forms diving at them from above. The demons felled by the finely honed blade exploded into dissipating red vapor that reeked of sulphur. Pray that he has the strength to withstand.

No! Adrian struggled, but Jonathan gave his wrist a vicious twist, and pain rose in a red tide before Adrian’s eyes. He groaned, nearly dropping to his knees in agony. Jonathan took advantage of his momentary weakness, using his weight to overbalance Adrian. They tumbled to the floor, grappling, but Adrian was no match for Jonathan’s superior strength and speed. In one swift movement Jonathan tore open Adrian’s shirt and dipped his head to his exposed throat.

Hannah! Adrian shouted her name as Jonathan’s deadly teeth sank into his jugular. The whispers surrounding them echoed his cry in soft and jeering breath.

A shriek of anguish cut through the chrysalis enclosing Lukkas, instantly drowned out by howls of elation from the vibrating mass.

Let us through! Krikor roared as he spun and plummeted into the midst of the hideous throng. The demons wheeled away, screeching in triumph.

Lukkas. Searle drifted to his knees beside his fallen comrade. Lukkas’s golden aura had dimmed to a shimmer, and his celestial form was riddled with teeth marks.

Though angels did not bleed, a filmy golden essence trickled from Lukkas’s wounds to fall like drops of molten gold to the soggy ground. Even before they impacted, the droplets dissolved to a leaden grey mist that evaporated in the brown November grass.

We must get him to shelter. Together Krikor and Searle lifted the lethargic Lukkas and bore him back to their place among the trees.

This is not a good omen. Searle bent to touch Lukkas’s gleaming bronze hair with gentle fingertips.

No, but there is nothing more we can do. Krikor sank back onto his heels, watching the tiny wounds heal even as they spoke. He glanced over his shoulder to where the demons once more thronged about the splendid stone house. For now, he added softly, an ancient, deeply rooted anger quivering in his voice.

Jonathan drank deeply of the blood spilling from Adrian’s neck yet remained attuned to the rapid thudding of Adrian’s heart. At the first beat that fell out of rhythm, he lifted his head to stare down at the seeping punctures. Two drops of blood bubbled against Adrian’s skin, sparkling like liquid rubies in the firelight.

You will sign the covenant, Jonathan murmured, lifting himself from Adrian’s prone form and drawing him to a sitting position. This isn’t how it should have been accomplished, but your rebellion necessitated drastic measures. Adrian stared at him in a catatonic gaze, jaw slack, muscles responding sluggishly to Jonathan’s commands. Rise, Adrian. Now, sit in the chair. There, just so. He strode to a Queen Anne desk that stood between two tall windows and lifted an empty ink well and an old quill pen from a drawer. Returning to the table, he took Adrian’s injured wrist in his hand, staring for a moment at the bruised and rapidly swelling flesh. He shook his head in regret. For this I am truly sorry, but you left me no choice. He raised the wrist to his mouth and drew one barbed fang along it, deftly tearing a slash in the vein. Blood immediately spurted from the cut, and Jonathan snatched up the ink well to catch the flow.

It would not require much. Just enough for a signature. He set the ink well down and returned Adrian’s wrist to his mouth, running his tongue along the nick until the blood coagulated. Then pulling a handkerchief from the pocket of his frock coat, he wrapped the wound.

Now, sign. He dipped the quill in the blood and placed it in Adrian’s good right hand. Adrian bent over the parchment. The only sounds in the still room were the crackling fire and the scratching of the pen across rough paper. Several times Jonathan redipped the crimsoned quill to make the last signature on the document deep red and crystal clear.

Adrian Kristan.

Adrian sank back in the chair, the quill slipping from his fingers to the page, a red blotch forming beside his name. Jonathan snatched up the quill before it spread.

It is done! The whispers echoed his triumph in a haunting chorus throughout the house. Jonathan caressed Adrian’s hair as though comforting an injured child. You’ll see, lad. Once she is here, you’ll realize how wonderful life can be. This subjugation doesn’t have to last. It just had to be done—for now. Come. Your room is in readiness.

He drew Adrian out of the chair and guided him from the library as the shadows closed in, crowding about the yellowed parchment.

The master has won!

The pact is signed.

His fate is sealed.

He is ours!

The wind took on an unearthly whine as the devil gloried in a deceitfully won victory.

Lukkas’s brilliant eyes opened, and he struggled to sit up.

Adrian has fallen. I must strengthen him!

Krikor restrained him with a hand against his chest and Lukkas, too weak to argue, allowed himself to be pushed back into the grass.

You can do nothing for him now. Events must unfold as they are destined to. Krikor flicked a glance at Searle’s dimly glowing form with his golden hair shining in an elongated aura about him. Keep him here while I fly to my charge. She alone has the spiritual understanding this situation demands. With an acquiescent nod, Searle stepped forward to take custody of the distraught Lukkas.

Krikor departed, moving through the woods as swiftly as the wind. Only when he erupted on the far side did he at last ascend into the heavy sky.

Chapter 2

Baker’s Corners, Ohio

Angela lifted her head sharply from the medical text she was studying, pale brows lowering in a frown.

What had she heard? A cry? She could have sworn it was Adrian calling for Hannah. But how could that be? He was surely in Massachusetts by now.

She looked at her cousin Hannah sitting by the parlor hearth, knitting needles clicking as she worked on a baby bonnet. The tiny hat rested against her distended abdomen, and a dreamy smile made her pretty face wistful.

Hannah? Angela rose, closing the heavy volume and setting it on the sofa. Did you hear something?

No. Hannah stopped knitting and set the needles on her lap. Did you?

I…suppose not. Angela moved restlessly to the window and parted the dark green drapes to stare out at the rainy night. Do you think Adrian will stay away long?

No, he promised to be back before the baby comes. Hannah ran a hand lovingly over the mound of her stomach. I hope it’s soon for them both. I feel as if I’ve swallowed a watermelon.

Angela smiled as she turned to her cousin. Hannah’s formerly trim figure had ballooned with impending motherhood, but that did not lessen her natural loveliness. Surprisingly dark lashes for her fair complexion and auburn hair surrounded gentle dove-grey eyes. Her features were dainty, almost elegant, her generous mouth upturned in a whimsical smile.

Did he say anything more about his reasons for going? Angela wrapped her arms about herself, gripped by an inexplicable chill.

Not really. He wanted to see his guardian, but that was all he said. Hannah frowned. We’ve been over this before.

I know. Angela walked away from the window, sighing. I just can’t help feeling there was more to it than he let on, though. She watched Hannah set her work aside to push herself awkwardly from the easy chair. Did he seem…worried when he left?

Worried? Hannah gave her a curious stare as she moved to the secretary where Adrian kept correspondence and bills. Perhaps a little, but I think it was understandable, considering the circumstances. She reached into one of the pigeon holes and pulled out a vellum envelope. Withdrawing the enclosed matching paper, she handed it to Angela. Read this for yourself.

Angela took the letter and scanned the writing. Though graceful and flowing, it appeared to have been penned by a badly shaking hand. Just the urgent request by an old and ailing man that his ward visit him once more before he succumbed. Nothing particularly ominous, yet Angela felt a nagging doubt. Nor was she inclined to retain the missive long in her grasp. There was something…oppressive, unsettling, even malignant, in the seemingly innocent letter. With a shudder she tossed it onto the desk and wiped her fingers on her skirt, as though brushing away some invisible filth.

I hope his visit goes well, she remarked quietly. He really ought to be here when his child is born.

Oh, he will be. Hannah returned to her seat to resume knitting. Thank you for staying with me. I know Adrian appreciates it as much as I. Gratitude shone from her eyes.

Neither of us wanted you to be alone in case your time came early. She returned to the sofa and picked up the medical book. I’ve assisted with enough births that Dr. Josephs felt certain I could manage yours.

I feel safe with you here. Hannah paused in her work, and her brow puckered. Sometimes Adrian makes me nervous with his brooding, and I’m afraid of him. Just a little, she added hastily as Angela gave her a questioning frown. Oh, I’m being ridiculous. She smiled apologetically. It’s just that…he won’t talk about his past. If I try to bring it up, he gets so angry and defensive. Then he sulks for days. I just wish he felt able to confide in me more. She sighed. But I love him, Angela. That much I do know. If anything ever happened to him… Her eyes brightened with tears. I couldn’t go on.

Hannah, don’t think like that. You have so much to look forward to. Adrian coming home, and the baby. Everything is fine. Angela spoke with firm reassurance. Yet something twisted inside her, as though a mighty hand gripped and wrenched some vital part of her.

Everything wasn’t fine. She knew it with complete certainty.

But how? Where had this extrasensory knowledge that no true Christian should experience come from? And why should it center on Adrian, who had been a part of their lives for less than two years? It imparted such foreboding that she could not repress a shudder. Thankfully, Hannah didn’t notice. Angela resumed reading, but with distraction uncommon to her usual absorption in her chosen field of study.

Two demons danced above the discarded letter, the flutter of their leathery wings shifting the paper.

They saw the angel hovering at the Golden Woman’s shoulder and knew they could not affect her. Except for making her feel the evil shadow of their presence.

Krikor’s brilliant silver eyes fixed on them with loathing.

Be gone! he commanded, pointing a radiant finger to the draped window. You have no power here.

They bared sharp yellow teeth at him, making a swift circuit about the room to flap around the head of the auburn haired female before Krikor shooed them away.

She is weak.

Weak!

She will fall to the master.

Yes, fall!

Be gone, I said! Krikor’s roar made the windows rattle, and Angela glanced up. Find the message, child, Krikor whispered, floating to a low side table where a Bible rested. There is danger you must discern for your loved ones.

Though she did not hear the exhortation, Angela rose and moved to the table. She turned the Bible’s filmy pages, stopping when Krikor instructed, her eyes drawn to Romans 8, verse 35:

"Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?"

Her gaze focused on one word.

Peril.

Adrian is in spiritual peril. You must protect his family. Krikor touched her shoulder, and Angela nodded wordlessly.

Such discernment was rare in humans. It usually took much more prodding to make them ‘hear’ the counseling words the Guardians whispered. Nor were the angels always able to bring them to the Holy Book for direction.

Yes, Angela Marshall was extraordinary, and Krikor loved the strength of her soul. The Holy Spirit lodged staunchly in her heart, and to those of the preternatural realm she radiated a golden aura, proof of her steadfast conviction.

They would need her strength. Though only the Lord knew where the road would end, Krikor was certain Angela would emerge triumphant.

And if she did not, at least her sanctified soul would forever dwell among the angels in Glory.

Adrian lurched from the big four poster, his head spinning, memories of the previous night a jumble. His last recollection was of Jonathan overpowering him, but nothing more. He staggered to the dressing table and stared into the mirror, eyes widening when he saw his neck.

Two swollen, blood encrusted punctures marred his neck. Adrian knew what that meant.

He’s forsaken the terms of the covenant. I don’t have to stay! He whirled to see his clothes arranged neatly over the back of a chair. He didn’t remember changing but supposed Jonathan had attended to it. The swift motion of turning made him drop to his knees with a grunt. So weak, he whispered, drawing several deep, ragged breaths. Almighty God help me, I’ve got to get out of here!

That supplication gave him strength. As he pushed himself up, he was reminded of the injury to his wrist. The wrench of weight on it brought tears to his eyes, and he stared at the bruised and bloated flesh. A thin, dark scab stood out, and Adrian scowled. What had he scratched himself on?

He dressed with shaking hands and was buttoning his shirt when the bedroom door opened.

What are you doing out of bed? The woman carrying the meal tray was tall and slender with black hair knotted in a tight coil at the back of her head. Coldly beautiful, her skin was nearly as white as the blouse she wore. Her piercing black eyes missed nothing.

I feel fine, Tanya. I wanted to get up for some air. He lifted his jacket as she set the tray on the night stand by the bed.

He told me to see you didn’t stir today. You’re not strong enough. She glided to his side to take his arm in her thin hand. Impatiently he shook it off.

Your concern is touching but unnecessary. Adrian’s lips twisted. And you can tell Jonathan he needn’t worry about me. I’m going home.

Very well. She lifted her chin haughtily. But I can tell you, he won’t be pleased.

I don’t really care! Adrian started forward, but a wave of dizziness made him pause.

You should eat, she said gently, her husky voice purring with entreaty as she once more took his arm. Something in your stomach will fortify you.

Adrian gazed at her uncertainly. She was right. No matter how desperate his need to escape, it would do no good if he collapsed from hunger. He let Tanya lead him back to the bed.

The meal, simple but filling, made Adrian realize he was hungrier than he’d thought. Tanya stood quietly by, watching.

You were right. I do feel better. He dabbed at his mouth with the linen napkin and gave her a small, strained smile. Thank you.

You should rest. She moved forward to take the tray and set it on a low table near the door. A little nap should strengthen you even more.

No, I must go. He rose and buttoned his jacket. Tanya whirled from the table, her black brows lowering in a frown.

You can’t! The master said—

The master can go to hell! he snapped, striding toward her. I’m going home to my wife and child. Now. Before he has the chance to do anything more to me.

It’s too late, she said, her cool tone scornful. Your signature is on the covenant. No matter where you run, he will find you and claim your son.

Adrian halted, scowling. The covenant, signed? How?

A dull ringing filled his ears and the room tilted. He reached for the bedpost and winced. That blasted wrist again.

He released the post to stare down at the purple skin of his wrist. Once more the scratch caught his eye, a straight, crusted blaze slicing through the bruise.

Was it a scratch? Or a cut?

His brow furrowed as he fought to grasp a memory, himself bending over the parchment, a quill rasping across the old paper, a blob of red at the end of his name, like a giant blood tear spreading on the page.

Oh God, no! He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He made me sign while I was—was— He didn’t even know what to call the treacherous thing Jonathan had done to him.

Subjected, Tanya supplied in her husky whisper. You rebelled, Adrian. No one has dared do that before. Not even your father, in the end.

Well, as the Lord God is my witness, I’ll do more than rebel! Shaking off her grasping hand, he started for the door with renewed determination. He won’t get away with this. I’ll see him burn in Hell before this day is done!

Adrian, you can’t! Tanya tried to grab him again, but Adrian shoved her away with a vigor that threw her to the floor. Adrian, stop! She scrambled up, but too late. He had flung the door open and was gone, his footsteps thudding along the hall.

It resembled a misshapen snake, its yellow eyes glowing as it undulated in rising anger about the woman’s feet.

Ssstop him! it hissed, lifting itself until its bulbous head was level with her frightened eyes. Hear the massster’s command!

Tanya began to tremble. Jonathan would be furious! What was she to do?

Don’t let him go. The command drummed through her mind in Jonathan’s resonant voice. Michael must halt him.

Yes. She concentrated on her brother, willing him to stop Adrian before he could saddle his horse and leave. If he got away before the sleeping potion took hold…

The demonic snake slithered away and vanished down the central stairway. Its task was nearly done. It could do no more than assure that the other servant heard the instruction. From there it must be his choice to obey or not. But knowing the strength of the connection between master and bondsman, it harbored little doubt as to the outcome.

Adrian staggered to the horse barn through cold sleet falling from a leaden sky, the ground slippery under his unsteady feet. He reached the barn and saw his horse munching placidly on hay in a stall. Glancing about, he found saddle and tack hung over a low rafter. As he reached to pull them down, dizziness assailed him. He dropped the saddle to lean against the wall.

Where you going? Adrian lifted his head to find Michael standing before the stall, arms folded on his barrel chest. Shaggy black hair framed an incongruously child like face. Adrian’s eyes raked his solid bulk with sinking hope. Here was a force to be reckoned with.

I have to go home. He spoke thickly, his tongue seeming swollen in his dry mouth. My wife needs me.

This home. You belong here. Michael didn’t budge.

Yes, but I have to go back for the baby. Adrian’s mind whirled, grasping at anything to reach past Jonathan’s domination to the simplistic reasoning of Michael’s slow intellect. Jonathan wants my wife and child here too. I have to fetch them.

Not go. Michael scowled at him. Master say you stay. He send for them.

No, no, Michael. The baby isn’t born yet. I have to be there when it…he is. He gave Michael a long, pleading stare. Please, Michael. It’s so important to me. And Hannah. She has to have me there when her time comes. A shadow of doubt flickered across Michael’s lustrous eyes. Adrian latched onto it, approaching