Prologue

The wind vampire flew over the frozen plateau, hunting for signs of life in the clear night. The sky was lit by a newly waning moon, and the earth beneath her was threaded with river valleys so fine and numerous that they reminded the hunter of the unfurled leaf of an ancient fern.

She smelled smoke in the distance and turned toward it.

The small wooden house was surrounded by dense forest, nestled in a narrow river valley flanked by snowy peaks. There was nothing for miles except trees, wild animals, and a drifting group of human pastoralists she could easily avoid.

She'd found him. A thrill hummed in her blood.

Finally.

She had been hunting her quarry for centuries.

The isolation was impressive. There was nothing permanent in the vast landscape save for a tiny human village on the banks of a lake on the other side of the plateau.

The wind vampire she hunted was the last of his immortal bloodline.

His brothers were dead. His sire was dead, and she'd killed his grandsire thousands of years before he'd been born.

But flowing through this vampire's veins was immortal blood that the hunter had sworn an oath to destroy.

She perched in the branch of a pine tree, watching the cabin where glowing gold light flickered through small glass windows. Snow fell through the branches of the pine, drifting and dancing in the air, triggering a faint memory of sunlight and laughter she had nearly forgotten after endless years.

The house in the valley was built in the traditional manner of the Russians who had come into these lands, made of stacked logs with a steep roof to channel falling snow to the sides of the dwelling. There was a spiked wooden fence that surrounded the compound to keep predators away from the frozen meat hanging from the eaves.

Humans would see that as a barrier, but it wouldn't stop her.

Humans also wouldn't detect the faint scent of frozen human blood from the bodies hidden in the snowdrifts, but she could smell it through the ice and the snow.

It was too cold in the winter to bury human bodies, but the ground around her was thick with bones. She could hear them whispering as they moldered in the earth. These immortals had been hunting in this area for many seasons.

From the house, the faint sound of music drifted in the air, interspersed with affectionate endearments in the Russian tongue. She'd spent two years learning it so she could stalk this prey. When she had killed him, she would do her best to forget.

Rumors that her old enemy's blood still lived had reached her in Tibet, centuries after she had believed Temur's line to be extinguished.

This vampire had done his best to hide from her; he knew fate would find him should she discover his existence.

She floated from the pine branch down to the ground, dislodging flurries of snow like flower petals swept into the night air and snatched away by a breeze.

Her legs were wrapped in heavy wool and fur, her feet in thick leather boots. From a distance, she probably looked like an animal.

She was an animal.

Her feet landed in the snow, and the crunch of ice that reached her ears sounded loud as a gunshot.

The hunter lifted from the ground again, floating over the blue-lit surface of the frozen landscape. The sky was clear, and the stars shone in cold judgment.

There would be no mercy from the sky, just as there had been no mercy in Temur's blood.

It would end tonight. Finally it would end.

She flew around the house, looking for an entry point, searching for anything that would allow her silence. She hated noise. She hated all this, but it needed to be done.

Some blood needed to die. She would never sire a child, so her own sire's blood would die with her. It was the best. It was necessary.

She spotted a blackened window at the back of the house and arrowed toward it. The weight of the bronze blade was heavy at her side, bound to her thigh next to a dagger and a thin, short rapier she'd paid a smith in Kashgar to forge. It was carefully designed to pierce between ribs and precisely reach the heart where a swift flick of her wrist would end a human life in seconds.

She had no need for the rapier that night, but the blade brought her delight. It was the only satisfaction the hunter took from life, the ability to end it with such swiftness that suffering was barely a thought in the mind of her victims before they were gone.

She was a merciful and efficient killer.

The vampire looked at the window, searching for a way inside the house, but the darkened window was sealed against frost and wind.

There was no helping it. The death wouldn't be as silent as she'd hoped.

She reached out with her senses and located the two vampires in the largest room of the house. She was a creature of air, and the void whispered to her.

Two creatures of her kind, both larger than she was. One who called to the wind and the other…

Interesting.

The other had been born to fire.

She knew of few vampires in that area who claimed fire as their element, and all of them were dangerous. She wondered if this vampire was one she knew.

But no. This was a newer immortal. Their blood was fresh and rich with human life. This was the predator who fed on the bodies in the ground, a hungry, grasping immortal still in the first years of life.

Young, erratic, and capable of bursting into flames.

The hunter would have to eliminate the young vampire first, which annoyed her. The young vampire was not her quarry, but they could prove too dangerous to allow them to their fate.

Unless…

She listened to the affectionate words flowing between Temur's Blood and the new vampire. They were tender and teasing. These vampires were lovers. Perhaps there was some loyalty between them. In that case, the young fire vampire could be an advantage.

Without another thought, she took her blade from her thigh and smashed the hilt through the heavy glass window.

All sound stopped, and there was a rush of feet and a whisper of metal. She flew into the rafters and curled into a corner of the room, waiting for her quarry. She pulled her amnis in, throwing a shield over the immortal magic that gave her life.

And waited.

Her quarry came first, but she did not move.

She hadn't seen him before, but she had smelled his blood. Smelled the blood that had betrayed her. He bore the same eyes she did, eyes from the east that swiftly searched the shadows, looking for whatever had broken into their hidden sanctuary.

He was hoping for the body of a bird or the clawed fury of a wolverine.

Her quarry was foolish. He didn't look up.

"Purev?" The new vampire walked into the dark storeroom. "What is?—?"

"Zasha, no!"

Too late.

The hunter fell on the woman, her arms and legs wrapping around the young fire vampire as the bronze blade came to her neck, the tip pressing against the spine.

The young one panicked. "Purev!"

"Calm." Her quarry held up his hands. "I know you. You have no quarrel with her. Your fight is with me, Saraal."

"Sida." She spoke for the first time in a year, and her voice was rasping. "I do not know that name."

Sida, the tribe of ancient wind vampires who had ravaged the eastern plains where her human life had ended. Sida, the sons of her immortal sire who had treated her worse than the human women they captured.

A vampire slave would not break as human captives did.

"Please, Purev," the fire vampire whispered. "Make her stop."

The hunter did not care to know their names, and the moment she left, she would do her best to forget them. After all, memory was a kind of life, and she wanted all of them dead.

To her, all of Temur's blood were Sida. She felt the heat building on the vampire's skin and knew that with a fire element so young, control was tenuous.

Her blood was different, bearing the scent of both male and female. Curious.

But the new vampire's blood was interesting, not important.

Her fire, on the other hand…

"Her name is Zasha." Her quarry spoke, looking into her eyes. "She has nothing to do with us."

The hunter stared back. "You know why I am here."

"I am not my sire," the wind vampire said. "I live peacefully. I don't hurt anyone."

"I smell the bodies outside. Blood does not lie."

The man gestured at his woman. "I… I have to feed her. She's new, and she needs blood."

"And I need your blood. Temur's Blood."

The fire vampire was motionless but getting hotter under her hands.

"She will lose control unless you let her go." The wind vampire held out his hands. "Please let her?—"

"Fine." The hunter gripped the head of the new vampire and snapped her neck to the side. "Now she won't burn."

The fire vampire fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

"No!" His mouth dropped open. "Zasha?"

"She will be fine." The hunter floated to the ground and stepped over the fire vampire's body as she walked toward Temur's Blood with her blade held out.

"Purev?" The voice was weak, and sobs caught in the young one's throat. "Purev?"

"See?" She kept her eyes on her quarry. "She's not dead."

Temur's Blood glanced at his lover, then back to the hunter. "My love, be calm. She will not hurt you." He whispered in a language long dead, "She only wants me."

"Don't you remember? This was how the Sida controlled me. You snapped my neck every night when I woke, leaving me defenseless." She stepped closer. "Then you did whatever you wanted to my body and buried me in the ground like an animal storing a carcass. That's all I was to you, remember? Another carcass to feed on."

He shook his head. "But I didn't do those things. I wasn't even born when those things?—"

"You bear his blood."

"I bear the same blood as you!"

"Please." A tortured sob from the vampire on the floor. "Just leave us alone."

"Be quiet or I will kill you too," the hunter said. "Do you know how I found you, Temur's Blood?"

He shook his head. "I have lived my life knowing that you would kill me the moment you found me. My sire?—"

"Your sire should have never passed this wretched blood to anyone else," she said quietly. "I am sorry for that. It is not your fault, but the blood is true, is it not? I found you because there were rumors of an Eastern wind vampire who was stealing children from the trade routes."

"Orphans," he said. "Beggars. Children who had already been thrown away. No one would miss them."

"I miss them." The hunter blinked. "My children were orphans after I was killed. And I missed them. Did you know that?"

Temur's Blood slowly shook his head. "I was only trying to feed her. She was hurt; she needed to heal. She needed time to grow strong."

"A pity." The hunter never looked at the sobbing vampire on the floor. "Her protector revealed himself, and now he will die. If you had remained here, I might never have heard of you."

"No!" the weeping vampire shouted, her voice strong though her body was useless. "You can't! You can't take him from me!"

She cast one glance at the creature.

The young vampire was eye-catching. It was no wonder some immortal had become fascinated by her. She was as tall as a man with broad shoulders and striking red hair the color of flickering flames. The planes of her face were as pale and sculpted as the snowcapped peaks around them, and her eyes were striking, a brown so dark it was nearly black, and rimmed with pale red lashes.

"What color were your eyes?" the hunter asked. "Before you turned."

"Wh-what?"

"Your eyes." It was a curious thing. The hunter's eyes were grey, but she didn't know what color they'd been before her turning. She didn't remember anyone ever noticing them or talking about them. Perhaps they'd always been a storm grey, but she didn't recall.

"Blue," the vampire whispered. "They were blue like the sea in summer."

"I am sorry for you." She turned back to look at Temur's Blood. "Say goodbye to her."

"No!" the woman begged. "Please. Please."

Temur's Blood stared at her; though he remained motionless, the wind picked up, battering the wooden house with angry gusts.

The hunter raised an eyebrow, but his element could not defend him, not when her power was so much stronger. She was old. Very, very old.

Temur's Blood whispered, "Promise me that you will not hurt her. I will not fight you. I know I cannot. Only promise me that she will be safe from your vengeance."

"I will only kill her if she tries to kill me," the hunter said. "I vow it on my children's blood."

"You will only kill her if she tries to kill you." He looked at the weeping vampire. "Zasha, remember. You cannot take revenge. However long you live, you must not. You must allow her this debt."

"No!" the fire vampire screamed. "Purev, no!"

She smelled the smoke and knew that the young vampire's magic was already reaching out, repairing the strands of energy the hunter had broken. It would only be a matter of moments before she was a danger again.

Temur's Blood closed his eyes, put his hands together at his chest, and bowed deeply. "Am I the last?"

"Yes."

"Will it be enough for you when I am no more?"

The hunter cocked her head. "I do not know."

He kept his head bowed, but his eyes looked up. "Let it be enough."

The hunter lifted her blade, struck the neck of Temur's last child, and sliced his head from his neck while the young vampire on the floor lay screaming at her to stop. The body collapsed like a pile of flimsy sticks, and the head rolled to rest against the stacked firewood under the broken window.

Screams turned to choked sobs, and the smell of smoke filled the air. The woman's clothes were starting to burn.

Wind and snow were gusting into the storage room through the broken window, but neither of those would kill the young fire vampire. In fact, they might just save her.

The hunter turned to look at the sobbing vampire. "I made a vow not to kill you, and I will not."

"I don't care," she choked out. "Kill me. Kill me! Please, I don't want to live without him."

She shook her head. "Then your suffering is at his hand because I made a vow." She walked down the hallway, through the cozy front room where a fire burned in a stone hearth and a pot of something savory was slowly burning where it hung by the fire.

The hunter moved the pot away from the flames, the acrid smell of burned food almost covering the smell of burning wool that came from the back of the house.

She cleaned her blade on a blanket near the fire, then put it back in its leather scabbard and walked out of the house.

The wind was gusting more wildly, her magic churning it though she remained calm on the surface. Her blood was jumping, and her fangs ached in her mouth, but she searched for satisfaction. For peace.

Temur's blood was no more. Finally it was no more.

The hunter took to the air and barely noticed when the wooden house behind her burst into flames. She paused, glanced over her shoulder, and watched the flames engulf the house, the fence, and melt the snow where the bodies of stolen children had been hidden.

Fire vampires. So volatile.

She disappeared into the night and rid the last drop of Temur's blood from her memory.

He was dead. Finally he was dead.