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The thick fog had been replaced by a cold wind and heavy rain when the army of vampires marched through the forest back towards Castle Corvinus. Viktor clutched the reins of his black horse and urged the animal on. The warlord was furious, as their campaign had been a complete failure.

Tonight the scouts had lost William's track again because the first werewolf seemed to have crossed the Danube several times. Of course, he had all three soldiers beheaded on the spot, as soon as one of them had had the courage to tell him they wouldn't be able to find the rabid dog anymore, at least not in the near future. He very much would have liked to contrive a more cruel and painful way for them to die, but that would have taken some hours. Morning was near and Viktor didn't want to set up camp in these parts of the woods. Instead, they would return to the safety of the castle.

How he hated to be outmatched by a werewolf! A mindless beast, acting only on instinct! And how was William able to best his experience in warfare, his strategic skills, his superior intellect? If he ever found him again, he would choke the life out of that cur's white furred body with his own bare hands.

Viktor's helmet failed to protect him from the downpour and he removed it, running a hand through the thin strands of ash blond hair that stuck to his neck. The dim lights of the castle were shimmering in the distance. Again the Elder spurred his horse. He hoped Amelia had recovered by now. Maybe she would be waiting for him in his rooms. An unchaste smirk curled the corners of his lips at the thought.

With large strides, Marcus climbed the stairs to Amelia's quarters, determined to enlist her help for his cause. This time he would be able to persuade her and she would assist him in finding a cure for William, he knew it. With a few authoritative words, he had been able to convince the guards to let him out of his rooms, so it would be easy to pass the female Elder's soldiers as well.

Halfway up the staircase, however, he was met with two nervously gesturing maidservants. They seemed to be discussing some issue with Thomas. The General soon raised his hands, too, his expression becoming a mixture of shock and worry. Marcus approached them, clearing his throat.

"Is anything wrong?" he asked, trying to sound as calm and regal as possible.

Stepping into the entrance hall, Viktor snapped his fingers, and a squire hurried to free him of his heavy weapons and the rain-soaked cloak. But when the servant started to fumble with the clasps of his breastplate, the warlord gestured for him to stop. Agitated voices could be heard from upstairs, from where Amelia's rooms were located.

Heavy footsteps and the smell of a rainstorm announced the Elder's appearance as soon as he reached the top of the staircase, where two maids and General Thomas were talking to Marcus. Viktor knitted his brows in anger. Who on earth had allowed Marcus out of his rooms? But the warlord's rage soon turned into worry when he picked up what the conversation was about.

"...how can she be dead?"

"Isn't she immortal like all of our kind?"

"...but that awful injury, it didn't heal... and she refused to drink blood."

"What's going on here?! Report to me!" Viktor's demanding voice echoed in the corridor.

The maidservants curtsied low and kept their heads down, while Thomas bowed only slightly.

"They told me Amelia was lying in her bed, haggard and motionless. And that they weren't able to wake her," Marcus said, raising an auburn eyebrow in disbelief.

Viktor hissed, his fangs showing, while he shoved Thomas away with a hectoring gesture and strode past Marcus, heading for the door to Amelia's bedroom. He discreetly opened it and stepped inside. Pitch black darkness filled the room and there was a strange mouldy smell to the air.

"Amelia?" Viktor called.

No answer. With his augmented vampire sight Viktor could see a figure in the bed, wrapped in cloth and actually motionless.

"Light!" he ordered and one of the maids hurried to bring in a torch from the corridor.

The warlord took it, and holding the light in front of him, walked further into the room. When he approached the bed, he could finally make out every detail of the scary sight: the deathly pale, gaunt, and waxen torso of a woman – her hair fallen out to reveal an angular skull covered with thin, dry, almost paper-like skin, her spidery hands folded on the blanket.

Viktor dropped the torch in shock. It rolled along the rough stone floor and then went out, leaving the room in darkness again. A dreadful, unreal feeling crept down Viktor's spine. Everything in this hideous room suggested that Amelia was indeed dead.