Imagine a ruin so strange, you wonder can it truly exist. Imagine a hole so deep sunlight never penetrates the gloom, a cave so hidden no human has ever discovered it. Imagine a place so dead even vermin and insects avoid all but its outer reaches. And then imagine a cavern so huge and elaborate its twisting chambers can easily house scores of vampires. This is the grotto the Connecticut coven of vampires call home.
For hundreds of years, the vampires have used the perpetual night of this deep cavern to avoid the hated sun and to remain hidden from the ever-increasing human population as well. Cut eons ago under the tree-covered hills on the eastern side of the Connecticut River by a now-vanished underground waterway, the cavern was the perfect hideaway. Thousands of hours of labor shaped the various chambers to suit the vampires’ needs—but what were hours, or even years, to the undead, who had eternity?
The largest of the chambers, a vast natural amphitheater a hundred feet across with a ceiling almost thirty feet high in the center, served as their Council chamber. Rows of stone benches carved from the uneven floor faced seven seats hewn from the limestone wall. Small candles in iron holders drilled into the rock spilled meager illumination into the chamber, all the light needed for the more than three score vampires who filled the benches. Seated in the seven places of honor were the members of the High Council, the ruling body of the coven. Stefan, the youngest and least senior among them, sat proudly on the left end. Occupying the middle seat was Ricard, Lord of the Coven and the vampire who had turned Stefan.
A vampire for nearly a thousand years, Ricard was an imposing figure—tall and muscular, with long silver hair gathered by an ornate silver clasp into a ponytail reaching to his waist. The features of his handsome face were sharp and aristocratic.
He raised his arms to signal the waiting crowd to silence.
“By now,” he began, his voice deep and sonorous, “even the lessermost among us have sensed the rising energies that foretell Destiratu.” The word sent a murmur rumbling through the cavern. Ricard waited patiently before continuing. “And with that rise comes an increase in our hunger, our need to feast. But we must be careful. Many things have changed since Destiratu last surged through our veins. In centuries past, we had little need to restrain ourselves, and it was a time of unbridled feasting. But the humans have grown far more numerous and have developed weapons dangerous even to us. We must make certain we do nothing to draw their attention our way.”
Ricard rose to his feet and took two steps forward. “And let us not forget, others will feel the magical energies as well, and their hunger shall also rise. The volkaanes will be hunting, driven by their need as we are by ours.” He paused, making sure every eye and every ear was focused upon him. “The Council has come to a decision, binding on every member of this coven. Henceforth, no one outside the Council shall be permitted to venture from these caverns alone. We have already lost Francona, missing more than a fortnight now. From this day forward, only groups of three or more may go out, and then only after gaining permission from a Council member.”
A second murmuring echoed through the cavern, louder than the first, but no one voiced an objection.
“Will this truly be Destiratu, my lord?” a raven-haired female in the front row called above the clamor.
Ricard sat down. “No one can say, Edwina. But the signs are there. If the energies continue to grow, further measures will be taken. Destiratu carries pleasures that cannot be reached at any other time, and so brings temptations not felt at other times as well.” His lips twisted into a wide smile as he remembered triumphs from Destiratus past, especially the burning blood of volkaanes he had bested.
Stefan rose to his feet. “I have a suggestion, my lord.”
Ricard turned to his favorite protégé. “Yes, Stefan? What say you?”
“Perhaps more feeders should be taken,” he said, looking out over the assembled coven. “To lessen the hunger and the temptations of the younger and weaker among us.”
Ricard considered the idea. “Your suggestion has merit. I leave it to you to talk to those without feeders. Find out who might want one now. The Council will meet again in a few days to decide how to proceed. I take it you have not changed your mind on the subject, Stefan?”
Stefan shook his head. “No, my lord. I seek a consort, and I shall settle for nothing less.”
Ricard studied Stefan’s face. “Do I sense that you have someone in mind?”
Stefan grinned. “I might.”
“Use caution, Stefan. Powerful though you be, you are not immune to danger.”
“I know that, my lord. I shall be careful, as always.”