Chapter 1

Dark and menacing, the Kalamazoo Castle dominated the rural landscape with its many clustered towers, stone pinnacles and massive battlements, so tall they looked like they could touch the sky. Filled with a deep surge of paranoia, mixed with no small amount of fear, I felt rather than saw a phantom figure dressed all in black watching me from his perch located high atop a tower rampart.

Following a narrow cobblestone path that led up to the front entryway, I climbed the steep steps, crossed the expansive porch, and thrust open the heavy iron bound wooden door – more than a little surprised that it wasn't locked. I had a sudden sickening feeling that Vycandor had lured me into a trap and he'd used Thomas as bait. If that was the case, he was going to wish he hadn't. With time running out to stop the Angels of War from unleashing a second wave of attacks, the hunted had just become the hunter.

 I made my way through the castle to the grand staircase in near total darkness before I sensed a presence behind me. Spinning around on one heel, I came face-to-face with Vycandor's creepy assistant, Edgar.

Between his protruding eyeballs gone all googly, mousy brown hair slicked back from his long narrow face, and the white lab coat he always seemed to be wearing like somekind of uniform, Edgar still managed to reminded me of Dr. Frankenstein's hunchbacked assistant, Igor. Especially the way he had a bad habit of rubbing his hands together underneath his pointy chin whenever he spoke like a mad scientist.

"My dear, Chaos," Edgar breathed speaking in that strange diction of his that sent shivers racing up and down my spine. "How very nice of you to join us again. Master has been expecting you." Raising a bony hand, he made a revolving motion with his arm. "Please...follow me."

I did my best to hide a knowing smile. I was right, as usual. Vycandor had been expecting me. What I didn't know was why he felt the need to capture Thomas to get my attention. He could've just asked.

Edgar guided the way to a tower with a spiral stone staircase that led all the way up to the keep, which also turned out to be the highest point of the castle.

Did I mention I'm allergic to heights?

Not that I was complaining, of course. Anything was better than ending up in the dungeon again.

Breathlessly spilling outside onto a gravel rooftop, a blast of arctic air made me wish I'd remembered to grab the jacket that matched my outfit before ditching Hell. But before I even had a chance to grieve the loss, I heard the distinctive metallic sound of a door being locked with a skeleton key. I turned to find myself alone on the isolated rooftop. Even though I knew I could blast my way through the heavy wooden door, it didn't stop me from rushing up and yanking on the ancient iron handle in a failed attempt to try and open it like an idiot. Placing both hands on my hips, I finally gave up.

Somebody didn't know who he was messing with.

"Silly, Igor...uh...I mean, Edgar. I didn't come here to play games. Where's Vycandor?"

"Master is in the turret chamber." The way his creepy voice came out all shaky made me wonder who he was more afraid of. Me, or Vycandor.

"What the hell is a turret chamber, and where is it?" I growled.

Edgar slowly drew out each careful word. "It's right behind you."

I spun around on one heel, but the only thing I saw was an inordinately large structure built right on top of the tower that looked like some kind of freaking crystal palace.

My mouth formed an "O" but no words came out.

Painfully aware of how awful I must look, I attempted to smooth my windblown hair. It was no use. As usual, my tangled long red hair had a mind of it's own. Pulling down on the bottom of the black brocade steampunk corset to straighten it first, I adjusted the waist of the shiny black leather pants next – not quite sure why I suddenly cared about my appearance. It certainly wasn't to impress Vycandor. It had more to do with not looking like a red hot mess when I rescued Thomas.

At least, that what I kept telling myself.

Drawn in the direction of the enormous glass encased room, I cautiously opened the door to find an ornate wrought iron bed prominently displayed smack dab in the middle. Aside from the dungeon, this place looked like a mini fortress of doom. However, what the torture chamber lacked in obvious comforts, the turret chamber made up for in spades. Sumptuous purple and black silk scarfs draped down from each corner of the king sized canopy bed to pool on a colorful oriental rug below. Matching silk curtains adorned the ceiling to floor glass walls, while a black chandelier with purple bulbs provided delicate lighting in a dramatically gothic fashion. As my eyes continued to drink in the opulent décor fit for a king, I almost missed the dark figure lying in the center of the bed peering at me...uh, scratch that...more like glaring at me.

With his haunting gaze locked in on mine – a feral gleam made his cat-like green eyes glow in the eerie darkness. Remaining broodingly silent as we faced off, I felt the familiar magnetic pull of two opposites attracting.

Right then, I knew only one thing with any certainty. It was going to be really, really hard to kill him.

He looked the same as the last time I'd seen him, yet different somehow. Maybe it was because he'd been passed out before. Maybe it was because my poisoned blood had destroyed his humanity. Or maybe, just maybe it was because the partnership between all three creatures was now permanent like Sebastian had warned. Vycandor was no longer just a vampire. He was no longer just a werewolf. Hell, he wasn't even just a zombie. And he certainly was no angel. I started to think my first impression of him had been right after all. He really was a monster mash.

 However, it was what I didn't know that bothered me most. Yes, my blood had been the catalyst for the change in him. That much was clear. But that still didn't explain how Serenity managed to combine a trio of blood thirsty monsters into one. If it could be done to Vycandor, then it could be done to others. The question now wasn't how. No. The burning question on my mind was how in the hell was I going to stop them?

And worse, much, much worse. Was it even possible?

Just one look at the monster lying on the bed instead of under it defined all my childhood nightmares. The only difference, of course, was the fact that the monster currently glaring daggers at me was real. Simply put, Vycandor was a demonized version of the boogeyman come to life.

Waiting for him to make the first move, I couldn't help but remember that he hadn't always been like this. In fact, the last time we were together he'd professed his love for me in a song. Born to balance each others supernatural powers, we were one in the same. As if jealous of our connection, Serenity had taken it upon herself to turn me against him. I'd tried my best to save him and failed miserably. So, now, the one angel I was meant to love above all others had just become my worst enemy. Despite my love for Thomas, somewhere deep down inside I craved Vycandor with an intensity I couldn't explain. Not only because he was the other half of my soul, but because he was the most terrifyingly hottest creature I'd ever laid eyes on.

Tall, dark, and deadly -- although hard to judge his lofty height with him laying down, Vycandor's skin still retained that strange bluish tint that only managed to add to his impossible beauty. Wearing a pure white formal waist coat, complete with tassels and frothy lace that cascaded in luxurious waves from a high collard shirt, his long black hair stood out in stark contrast as it spilled all the way down his shoulders to touch the bed. Between the sharp, angular planes of his high cheekbones, the raw intensity of his deep set eyes, and his full cherry red lips pulled back in an aggressive snarl, his wild beauty took my breath away. Inch for impossible inch, Vycandor looked every bit how a vampiric monster was supposed to look. Even though Serenity had turned him into a demon, he was still my demon.

And I didn't appreciate him giving me the stink eye. Not one little bit.

Raising the stakes, I met his epic glare with one of my own. In that moment I sensed violence simmering just beneath the surface. It took me a few frozen seconds to realize the only violence in this ridiculous crystal palace was coming from me.

A welcoming smile made Vycandor's lips curl in both corners as he paused to sniff the cold, damp air. I couldn't tell if he was happy, or hungry to see me. If I had to venture a guess, I'd say it was probably a lot of both. Especially the last part.

Breaking the silence first, there was something dark and promising in his voice I hadn't heard before. "Ah, Chaos...your blood calls out to me like a siren I cannot ignore."

I hate when I'm right.

"Cut the crap, Vycandor. "Where's Thomas?"

He made a slow, purposeful motion with his index finger that reminded me of Beastie. "Come closer."

I narrowed my eyes, still wondering if this was all part of some elaborate trap. "Why?"

He leaned forward and pointed at his back. "I want you to adjust the pillows."

That surprised me. I don't surprise easily. Turning my glare up a few notches, I growled, "I'm not the freakin' concierge. Adjust them your damn self and tell me where Thomas is."

Vycandor hung his head as if suddenly filled with self-loathing, before falling weakly back against too many purple pillows to count like a wounded animal. "I tried to keep him safe. I did. I only brought him here so I could see you again."

I let my guard down and cautiously approached his bedside. Vycandor wasn't exactly the kind of monster Sebastian had warned me about after all. He was worse. This creature of subterranean desire was everything I feared, and then some. Mostly because of my feelings for him. Feelings so strong they disturbed me. Deep-seated feelings not only because we were meant for each other, but also because he'd saved my life.

Although, truth be told, I cared for Thomas more. A lot more.

My voice caught on a lump forming in my throat and broke. "What do you mean, you tried to keep him safe?"

"I don't know," Vycandor began in a deep, pleading voice as he absently smoothed the sumptuous looking purple bedding. "Thomas didn't regain consciousness until after I brought him here."

I cut him off. "Wait. Thomas was here? As in, right here in this room?"

Vycandor nodded. "I asked Edgar to look after our guest. Sometime later is when everything...changed."

Getting answers out of him was like pulling teeth. "What changed, Vycandor?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. Thomas was still out cold when I came to check on him. Then he woke up and tried to attack me. I fought him off, but he tried to go after Edgar." Vycandor shook his head at the memory. "One minute he was fine, and then it was like someone flipped a switch and turned him into...into a..." His voice trailed off as if searching for the right word.

"A flesh eating zombie," I finished for him, cringing at the thought even though part of me already knew his fate. "So where's Thomas now?" Vycandor pointed behind me. I turned and noticed for the first time that one section of the glass looked as if it had exploded from the inside out. Remembering Edgar's fondness for locking doors, I said, "How did he get down?"

"He jumped," Vycandor replied, reaching for my hands. "The fall alone probably killed him."

A single tear blazed an angry path down my cheek. "No it didn't."

Giving my palms a gentle squeeze, he tried to make me understand. "Chaos, you're in shock. Nobody can survive a fall from this tower. You're going to have to learn to accept the fact that Thomas is dead."

My voice came out in a whisper of disbelief. "That's not it. You're the one who doesn't understand."

"What?" Vycandor said, clearly sounding annoyed before he added, "What don't I understand, Chaos?"

"Thomas can't die," I insisted. "He's already dead. He just doesn't know it yet."

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