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terrible storm buffeted the vessel until it broke up and went down, the mortals sinking beneath the rolling waves.
    Darius had once again saved the children. Even at six he had been unusually strong, his father’s blood pure and ancient. He took on the image of a powerful bird, a raptor, and, clutching the small ones in his talons, had flown to the nearest land mass.
    Their lives had been extremely difficult in those early days, the coast of Africa still wild and merciless. Carpathian children needed blood but were unable to hunt. They also needed herbs and other nutrients. Even then most children did not survive their first year of life. It was a tribute to Darius’s strength of will that all six children had survived. He learned to hunt with the leopard. He found the little ones shelter and soil and began to learn the healing arts. None of the lessons had beeneasy. He was sometimes wounded in his hunts. Many of his experiments failed or backfired. But he persevered, determined he would not allow any of them to die. He often poisoned himself trying new foods for the children, and he learned to force the poison from his own body.
    Over the centuries they had stayed together, a family unit, Darius guiding them, always acquiring more knowledge, devising new ways to hide their differences from the humans they encountered, and even to invest money. He was powerful and determined. Desari was certain there was no other like him. His rule was unquestioned; his word was everything.
    None of them had been prepared for the tragedy two months earlier. Desari could hardly bear to remember it. Savon had elected to lose his soul, giving himself over to the crouching beast, choosing to be completely dark. He had hidden the spreading evil stain even from those closest to him.
    He had bided his time, awaited his opportunity, and then he had viciously attacked Syndil. Desari had never seen such a brutal assault on any woman. The men had always protected, treasured, and cherished the women. No one dreamed such a thing could happen. Syndil was sweet and trusting, but Savon had beaten her that day, mauled and raped her. He had nearly killed her, draining her of blood. Darius found them, directed by Syndil’s frantic mental cries for help. So shocked that his closest friend had committed such a monstrous crime, he was nearly killed himself when Savon had attacked him.
    Afterward, Syndil had been so hysterical, she allowed only Desari near her and only Desari to replace the blood she had lost. In turn Barack and Dayan had supplied Desari and Darius. It had been a tragic, horrible time, and Desari knew none of them had fully recovered yet.
    Syndil now spent most of her time in the earth orshape-shifting into a leopard. She rarely spoke, never smiled, and did not allow discussion of the attack. Dayan had grown quieter, more protective. Barack was the most changed. He had always seemed a playboy, laughing his way through the centuries, but for a month he, too, had stayed in the earth, and lately he was moody and watchful, his dark eyes following Syndil wherever she went. Darius was different, too. His black eyes were bleak and cold. He watched over the two women even more closely. Desari noticed he had also distanced himself from the men.
    Syndil, come now!
This time she gave the order in a firm, decisive voice. Darius was far too heavy for Desari, in her weakened state, to move. What had happened to Syndil was not her trauma alone. They had all suffered, all had been changed forever by it. They needed her. Darius needed her.
    Syndil materialized beside them, tall and beautiful with her enormous sad eyes. She paled visibly when she saw the bloodstains on Desari, when she noted Darius swaying unsteadily on his feet, his face gray. Quickly she caught him, taking most of his weight. “The others? Where are they?”
    “Darius gave them his blood, blood he could not afford to give up,” Desari explained. “We were attacked by mortals with guns. Dayan