Rosemonde did not recall going to sleep. The last thing she remembered was waking up this morning with Drew Wilson in her room. She could still feel his lips on her cheek, before he left to get her some juice. How much time had passed? Why was it dark again, already? What else had happened?

There was a nurse. Rosemonde had noticed that she was exceptionally pretty, but something about her had made her nervous, she would even say frightened. Why was she so disoriented? She wasn't sure what had happened, and she certainly couldn't recall why she was naked and chained to a wall in the dark.

She was cold. She must have been drugged. Now she was sobering up, slowly. She tried to scream but found that she had no voice. She was parched. How long had she been here?

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she tried to take in her surroundings, but she couldn't see much. It was cool, even though it had been stifling these past few weeks. Hot air rises, so she reasoned that she must somehow be below it. An underground carpark? A basement? Certainly, somewhere without much light. Somewhere with lots of concrete or stone. Wine cellars were often cooler than the main house. But it was so dark, she couldn't tell if that was where she might be.

She was chained by the wrists and ankles but she could move her fingers and toes. She could feel the wall under her fingers. It was rough like sandpaper and every so often she felt an indentation, before more roughness. Bricks? Stonework? The floor beneath her feet was cool and smooth. Concrete? Tiles?

She couldn't hear anything. The air felt thick and heavy. There mustn't be any windows. There wasn't even a sliver of light. She could smell dampness and...and blood? It was mixed with something else. Not body odour exactly but...

Awareness hit. They had her. They had her and they were going to drain her, as they did Summer. She began to panic. She pulled at the chains that bound her. She tried to scream again but only managed a weak rasp. It was like one of those nightmares, where you couldn't make yourself heard. You couldn't call for help. She didn't know how long she had been there. She didn't know where she was. NO ONE KNEW WHERE SHE WAS!

She felt wetness on her face and body. Sweat? Or? She licked her lips and tasted blood. Oh, my God! She began to sweat and hyperventilate. She was going to die. Just like Summer. She could do nothing to save herself. Maybe it would be better, to just fade away. Maybe that would numb the pain that she knew would come. Fade away. Fade away to nothing. Her body could not escape, but maybe her mind could.

She tried fading away, tried to let her mind go blank or somehow give in, lose consciousness. She couldn't. She was too afraid — too aware. She couldn't control her thoughts, couldn't stop her imagination from conjuring the macabre. She'd read Florence's journal. She knew what the woman had witnessed. She knew why the entries had stopped suddenly. Maybe she could die of fright. That would be welcome. It would be faster...wouldn't it?

The sound of slow footsteps approaching and bringing light was more than she could bear. Suddenly, she wanted the darkness again. She could hide in the darkness. The light would expose her. The light brought with it her captor, and horrendous possibilities! She lost control of her bladder.

"Ah, you are awake."

"You! But why?"

"Why do I need to feed, or why you?"

"Both! That nurse with the weird eyes. She helped you, didn't she? Why?" Rosemonde croaked hoarsely.

Zoiia laughed. The victims always asked the same questions, but few ever really understood the answers. After a while, she stopped attempting to explain. They had begun to bore her. She considered them differently now than when she first began. Now she saw them as they really were. They were nothing more than cattle, food for the chosen ones —The Children of Azazael.

The chosen had been given the power of hidden knowledge. Now, it was they who ruled the Earth in truth. They were gods and goddesses! She laughed again. Oh, humanity — so pathetic, so unbearably mundane.

Zoiia advanced towards Rosemonde until she was just inches from her. She cupped Rosemonde's face in her hands so that she was unable to resist. Moving in even further, as if to kiss her, she inhaled Rosemonde's very breath instead. "Ah, I needed that," Zoiia sighed with contentment.

Rosemonde gasped for air. When she was able to take a breath finally, she asked, "Wh-what are you?"

"Very, very hungry," Zoiia replied.

"Priestess you must leave immediately."

"PAUL! HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET INTO MY HOME?"

"I'm pretty resourceful, but that doesn't matter right now. You have been summoned by the board. You don't want to be late."

"WHAT? The board, as in -"

"Yes, ALL of them. You need to get going, NOW."

"HOW DARE YOU GIVE ME ORDERS?"

"I dare as your new High Priest. Myrddin is gone."

Rosemonde couldn't believe what she was hearing. Myrddin was not a common name in Australia. It had to be her Myrddin. Her boyfriend was somehow involved, in all this? How could that be? Why? "Myrddin?" she whispered in utter despair.

Zoiia's succubus spirit fed on such emotion and delighted in her misery. "Surprise!" she jeered cruelly. To Paul she said, "You'd better be able to match his stamina! For all his flaws, Myrddin was an exceptional lover. Voracious, always ready for more." She turned and whispered in Rosemonde's ear, "I loved it! Myrddin understood the power of mixing pleasure with pain. I'm surprised he chose you. How could an inexperienced virgin, possibly keep a man with such a ferocious sexual appetite satisfied? Ha! You wouldn't last a minute with a cat o' nine tails, pathetic sweet thing that you are," she taunted.

"Merciful God!" Rosemonde wept.

"Enough," Paul said impatiently. "Zoiia you need to go NOW."

"Fine! What about her?"

"I will look after our guest."

Zoiia hissed angrily. She had wanted to be the one to drain Rosemonde. She wanted to hurt her, to punish Myrddin for his distraction. Men did not ignore her without consequence. Myrddin was the only man to have ever defied her. It was unacceptable. She would kill his little virgin and then she would kill him — in the most delectable way. She smiled at the idea that Lilith had given her. How long would he last? How long before his pleasure turned to pain, and he was begging her to release him? He could have had her completely, and without harm. He could have had everything. How could he reject her for this weak and ignorant fool? Oh, how she detested her! A quick death was too good for Rosemonde. She made up her mind.

"Paul," she called sweetly, "It is time you were rewarded for your loyalty. I know what you want, what you have always wanted. It is yours. Use the girl. Begin your ritual." Zoiia said.

"But...the father has already promised; he will turn me soon. He is pleased with my harvesting so far. I only need a few more to make the twelve that he has asked for." Paul's eyes lit up as he spoke. He was proud to be favoured by Azazael.

"There's no need to wait any longer. The father's consort resides within me. I will allow it." Zoiia shifted and became Lilith once more. Rosemonde finally found the voice to scream. Paul fell to his knees before her as she continued to speak. "I have been granted this one's essence." She looked at Rosemonde with loathing. "I give her to you now. Take her. Become a son of Cain." Paul nodded, ecstatic.

When Zoiia left them, Rosemonde began to sob. She cowered as much as the chains allowed when Paul approached her — a futile attempt to hide her sex. She had recognised him as the irritating man from Gwendolyn's art show, and her heart filled with despair.

Lies. It was all lies. Paul had warned her that Myrddin would hurt her, yet he was not her saviour. They were all in it together. How could she have been so oblivious? What is it like to die? Will I be brave?

Anger made her brave now. She wanted answers. She would not go to her grave not knowing. Besides, the longer she kept this maniac talking, the longer she stayed alive.

"So, your warning to me about Myrddin was a ruse? He was one of you, all along. Why didn't he just kill me? He had plenty of opportunities."

"You are perfect for harvesting. The blood of the innocent is particularly potent. The problem was that Myrddin wasn't going to harvest you. He wanted to mould you into his ideal woman, probably a sub." Paul snorted and Rosemonde shuddered.

"But he never hurt me, he -"

"Perhaps not physically, but that would  have come, believe me. Can you honestly tell me he hasn't hurt you emotionally?"

"We weren't a couple -"

"Oh, so it's okay to hurt friends?" Paul's laugh was sadistic. "Are we friends? I think I'm going to really enjoy hurting you."

"I don't think he would have hurt me intentionally," Rosemonde said quietly. She remembered how he had behaved when she had fainted. He was genuinely concerned for her...and he was helping with the police investigation, wasn't he? It didn't make sense that he was one of them. "Why were you trying to get between us, if you believe he would have hurt me in the end? Isn't that what you wanted?"

"What we wanted was a High Priest who took his responsibilities seriously. He didn't. He was distracted, by you. We needed to remedy the situation. I tried to get you to come with me."

She remembered. The way she responded to Paul terrified her. She was repulsed by him, and yet she was compelled to listen to him. She hadn't been able to walk away. "How did you get me to listen to you that night? Was it magic?"

"I suppose you could call it a type of magic, yes."

"How come it didn't work?"

"Love," he said the word as if he was tasting something vile and needed to spit it out. "Myrddin thinks he is in love with you. When he asked you to be his girlfriend, the strength of his emotion protected you from my influence."

Myrddin loves me? Enough to save me from his cult? "What did you mean when you said he was gone?" Rosemonde forced herself to ask.

"What do you think I meant? I could not become the High Priest unless the previous one was dead," Paul said simply.

"You-you killed him?" Rosemonde whispered, horrified.

"Not I, but he is dead, yes. He betrayed us. He was unworthy."

"And I'm next?"

"Well, you won't die today. You're going to help me fulfil my greatest desire."

Rosemonde shivered. Whatever he wanted could not be good. How could she help this mad man perform some diabolical task? But how long would she live, if she did not? She swallowed bile, and asked, "What is your greatest desire?"

"I want to be a vampire!" Paul's smile was once again ecstatic...

Zoiia walked briskly to her car but did not make it inside. She screamed as the raven went for her eyes. First the left one, then the right. It did not stop until they were pulp. Completely blind and screaming in pain she stumbled aimlessly onto the busy road. Cars and trucks tooted their horns and a few missed hitting her, but the inevitable happened. She was disoriented and distracted by the chaotic sounds of the traffic and could not tell the direction of the speeding Hummer that flattened her.