I forced myself to stand. My knees threatened to give, but I didn’t sway as I turned to look at Jabari. He was staring down at the obelisk, a fragment from his past. His face was once again calm and completely unreadable.

“I will think on what you have told me. We will talk again tomorrow.” He reached up and ran one hand over his close-cut hair, his gaze out into the night. I had been dismissed.

“May I find rest in your lands?” I asked. A new fear twisted in my stomach as he remained silent. I was a stranger in his domain and I had to ask his permission to remain. All vampires had to present themselves before the Keeper of the domain. If he refused, I had to leave his lands before the sun rose. This would be particularly difficult considering that Jabari’s domain encompassed most of Northern Africa and a scattering of islands in the Mediterranean.

“You may rest here,” he slowly said, as if he doubted his decision.

“Thank you.” I looked over at Danaus and motioned for him to leave. He hesitated a moment, his eyes darting from me to Jabari. Then without a word he slipped past me and headed toward where the camels had settled.

I stared at Jabari, his body straight and almost painfully erect. I wondered if he hurt as badly as I did. Tonight my heart had shattered in a way I hadn’t thought possible after all these long centuries. He still thought I had betrayed him, and whatever wonderful thing that once existed between us had died. He would never forgive me.

“I love you, Jabari. I have loved and trusted you above all else,” I whispered. “And even after what has happened tonight and with the knowledge that you will one day kill me, I still love you and will never stop.” I don’t know if he was listening or if he even cared. I had to say the words. I had to release them into the air so I could be free of the terrible weight on my heart.

Turning, I walked out of the quarry. I wanted him to call for me. I wanted to hear him say that he had loved me too, or that he forgave me, but he didn’t make a sound; didn’t move as I walked away from him. As I exited the quarry, I conjured up a small flame on the palm of my hand against the overwhelming darkness. I watched it wriggle and dance for a moment. Staring at that tender bit of light, I realized why I had retained this power even after death. If there were such a thing as fate, I had been put on this earth to destroy and not to create.

The moon hung pale and swollen overhead in the night sky. Clouds crept over the stars, blotting out their glittering light and holding in the oppressive heat of summer. I stood in the main square, the low gray-white stone walls circling about me like the sun-bleached bones of an extinct monster. Farther away the mountains rose up, great monoliths of stone and earth that had survived dynasties and would still be prodding the sky when my body had turned to dust. The air smelled thick with vegetation, and the faint tang of blood was carried by the wind. I followed that wonderful scent up the stairs, passing through an arch into another temple.

I paused, my heart lurching in my chest. A woman lay stretched out across a low, large gray stone. Her head was tilted back so her long black hair flowed from the stone and brushed the ground. Her brown eyes were wide, trapping me in their liquid gaze. Standing over her was a man clutching a knife in one hand. I hadn’t made a sound, but he knew I was there. He looked up at me and I saw Nerian smile.

I tried to take a step backward, but hands grabbed my arms, forcing me to stay where I was. Struggling, I attempted to look around me at the people holding my arms, but I couldn’t see them. Footsteps echoed through the silence of the night, rising off the stones; more were coming to hold me. I looked back up and Nerian was walking toward me, dagger still in hand. I jerked and twisted, fighting my captors, but I couldn’t escape. Cold sweat slithered across my skin. Panic was throbbing in my chest faster than my own heartbeat.

Beyond, I could hear the woman repeating, “You betrayed me,” in a soft voice that held an accent long dead from the earth. I pushed backward against my captors, digging my heels into the stones, trying to catch on the small crevices between the bricks, but I couldn’t gain any leverage. I pushed, but I couldn’t move. Nerian kept coming. His white teeth gleamed in the darkness.

I screamed and jerked but could find no release. He stopped inches from me, his laughter cutting into my skin like little razors. If I looked down, I would find that I was bleeding. He was supposed to be dead. I knew I had killed him. I had incinerated his corpse, leaving behind only a small pile of white ash in Danaus’s basement. But he stood before me now, smiling. I could feel the heat of his body, smell his woodsy scent. He pulled back his arm, his laughter rising, growing almost frantic in its pitch. As the dagger plunged into my stomach, my eyes opened and I screamed again.

The sound filled the box, but I couldn’t stop. I kept screaming, my hands clawing at the red silk lining the top of the box until it was shredded. I screamed until I choked on a sob lodged in my throat.

With my fingers clenched around the torn silk above my head, I lay still in my protective little box. The muscles in my arms were painfully tensed and my jaw was starting to throb. I was gritting my teeth, trying to keep from screaming again. Bloody tears streaked down the sides of my face. I swallowed a second sob and forced myself to relax. It was just a nightmare. Nerian was dead and I was safe.

Releasing my death grip on the silk ceiling, I roughly wiped the tears from my face with the heels of my palms. It had all felt so real. I could remember smells and the feel of their hands biting into my flesh. Worst of all, I could remember the beating of my heart. I laid my trembling right hand on my chest, pressing against my sternum, but felt nothing. Things like breathing and a heartbeat were tricks, illusions used by vampires to give the appearance of life. But things like that took power and energy, so we rarely bothered with it unless we were trying to fool humans. I never resorted to such tricks, but lying there now, I wondered if my heart had been beating while I dreamed.

I had not had a nightmare about Machu Picchu in a very long time. They once nearly drove me mad, but Jabari helped me, protected and guided me from my nightmare. After I’d left Egypt centuries ago I thought I also left his protection, but now I feared that I had been wrong. Maybe he helped me during my daylight sleep during all these years, and now that we’d parted ways, he had lifted his protection. Did I now face an eternity of waking with a scream on my lips?

Or worse, had Jabari sent the dream? Would he torture me until I was finally broken and came crawling back to him? I closed my eyes and folded my shaking hands over my stomach. I forced my thoughts away from the rising panic. The nightmare could be nothing more than what it was: a nightmare. I was upset about Jabari and the naturi; both had invaded my rest.

I lay there, fatigue creeping into my frame. Nightwalkers generally didn’t dream during the daylight hours. We had no memories of those hours when the sun hovered above the earth. It was dangerous for me to dream. It used up energy that I was supposed to be conserving for the night, for the hunt.

It wasn’t impossible for nightwalkers to dream, but it was extremely rare. As far as I knew, it only happened to those of us known to as First Bloods. They were rare simply because most nightwalkers couldn’t be bothered with spending several nights to several years carefully working a spell to bring over a human. First Bloods rose stronger and more powerful than our more common brethren, those lovingly referred to as “chum.” While crass and insulting, the nickname fit. Chum was quickly made and little more than bait for a true predator.