"The supply train took the treasure to Rome. Those who dared to go below ground, and into that tomb, said the walls held a record of unspeakable things. Every man reported feeling a presence inside the tomb that inspired fear," Marcus translated from the manuscript.

"The Romans sent a return expedition, but the entire group got lost in the desert. War broke out, and during the ensuing turmoil they forgot about the tomb," Markus finished reading, but Alena took the page from him, flipped it, and found a note on the back.

"According to this note, on the first moonless night of the summer solstice, the treasure disappeared without a trace. Someone got murdered, but they recorded no details of what happened," Alena informed them with a frown, and they all shifted further away as if to distance themselves from the leering image.

"It could be a coincidence," Marcus suggested, but Rowan was unconvinced.

"No," Rowan disagreed as if it the thought offended her. She rolled up the scroll and folded the drawing.

"We don't have the time to retrace his footsteps," Marcus responded with finality in his voice.

"We can't enter the desert," Alena added and with that knowledge, they packed it all away. Another week passed and with every hour and everything they found, only the road they dared not follow, remained.

"We have to go to the Oracle," Alena announced one evening and Marcus glanced at her with the oddest expression.

"No," his voice brooked no argument.

"She'll know," Alena challenged him. Their eyes met and held, a battle of wills ensued, and despite his apparent anger as he rose to his feet, and left them to replace the books they used, by sunrise, Marcus caved. He wrote a letter and dispatched it through their hostess, and her human friends.

You didn't just show up to speak to the Oracle, you had to send a request, and if she wanted your presence, she would send an invitation. Three days by horse, or five on foot, the reply could take up to ten days to reach them if the Oracle even bothered to answer.

The Oracle was one of the few human beings who held the respect of both vampires and humans. She lived in an ancient fortress, and those who met her said she was a witch, not just a seer. If she didn't want your company, you would dwell the road to her home for weeks, and not find it.

Those who attacked the castle in the past, say it could vanish, but Rowan believed that most of the Crone's legend came from the feebleminded.

Marcus's negative reaction when Alena first brought up the suggestion, intrigued her. Did he know the woman? Know of her? Or did he not approve of such people? She had no idea.

Rowan helped Alena replace the books, and close up the library, then she followed her to the kitchen. Marcus arrived after them, where he went after leaving them, neither knew. He was quiet and unapproachable, positively monosyllabic. Alena tried her best to serve him dinner, but it was like pulling teeth.

Finally, Alena glanced up at Rowan, spied the amused pity in her sister's eyes and something in her demeanor changed. Her chin lifted, her shoulders squared, she took the plate she prepared for Marcus for herself and dumped an empty plate before him. His head came up, his eyes came alive with sparks of anger, but then he noticed the way they were both looking at him.

It took only a moment for him to grasp that he took out his personal grudge with people like the oracle, out on them. They had no idea what happened to him and his family. He never told them about the woman who saw his fate and kept it from him out of spite. It took a moment for Marcus to admit he hurt their feelings. He took his plate and filled it himself.

"I'm sorry. I hate seers. My mother was one, and it led me to believe all of them to be good, honest people. I dated one for a while, until I realized that she used me, and manipulated me. I dumped her, and after that, she glimpsed the future. She foresaw the path I would take to get medicine for my mother would lead to my becoming a vampire, and out of spite, she kept that information from me. Just like she never told me she was pregnant with my child. She approached her aunt, a midwife, and they aborted my baby," Marcus admitted as he toyed with his food. They stared at him with pity in their eyes, and it was the reason he never spoke of such things.

"Even if she told you, you would have gone, anyway. You loved your mother, and you would have reasoned that armed with the knowledge of what would happen, you could avoid your fate," Alena said, and Marcus realized it was true even as he heard the words. When did she get such insight into him? He wondered.

"I think he would have believed he stood a chance against a vampire because he did not understand what he would face," Rowan added her thoughts, and she was also right. His frown deepened, they were getting to know him, did he understand them as well? He wondered, and as he watched them watch him. He supposed he did, at least better than any other person in their lives.

Marcus had allowed them closer to him than anybody in a long time. They were slowly doing the same with him and each other. He had a feeling that even if the Oracle denied them, they would find their way.

***

"Rowan, Alena, I just spoke to the priestess, and it seems they think it's time for us to resume our journey. She listened to what we found, and she agrees with us. I had the oddest sensation they knew about these scrolls all along. The Oracle invited us to see her," Marcus revealed at dinner the next evening.

"So when do we leave?" Rowan asked, and she realized she would miss these hearty meals, but her thirst intensified with every passing minute.

"As soon as we return from our hunt," Marcus remarked, and he almost grinned when the word caught both their interests. They were still young, and he had deliberately tested their resilience by denying them what they needed. It also proved to him that Rowan was far stronger than any vampire of a similar age. The mere thought of the hunt made her fangs show just the tiniest bit.

He took them out into the forest, and it wasn't long before Striker found them. He looked well fed and happy to see Rowan. She spent a few moments with him before she rejoined the hunt. An abundance of wildlife gave them more than they would typically take, but Marcus had no idea what their journey would bring, and he needed them at their best.

They packed their meager belongings, greeted their hostess, who loaded them with enough supplies to last a month and departed. The dark moon gave them cover, the path they took didn't slow down the horses, and they reached a boarded up hut an hour before dawn, just where the priestess said.

The next night went as well, and they slept in the cellar of an innkeeper; who asked no questions and took their money without hesitation. She had a small mark on her left palm, which was similar to a mark Rowan noted on the hand of the vampire priestess, although the innkeeper was human.

When she opened the cellar door for them at nightfall, the human woman handed each of them a small flask filled with fresh blood from the animals she slaughtered for her kitchen, and a fragrant cheese she made herself. Rowan saw that she knew what they were, but although she respected them, she didn't fear them.

Marcus thanked her, handed her an extra coin, which she took with a grateful smile. Striker spent the day in the old coal cellar, and he looked as well cared for as the other horses. Someone washed them and groomed them. Rowan concluded from his lack of interest in the contents of their flasks that he had something to chew on during the day.

"Did Striker do anything he shouldn't have?" Rowan asked of the friendly innkeeper, and the woman laughed.

"I forgot that the darn grumpy potbelly my mother-in-law insisted on keeping around, sometimes crawled through the coal shoot into the old cellar. My husband loved his mother, and the pig had a striking resemblance to her in looks and temperament. Lucca survived my mother-in-law, then he survived my husband, and I sometimes thought it would survive me, but I couldn't bring myself to slaughter the beast. It destroyed my garden, stole things from the kitchen, tore my sheets from the line, and it proved to be nothing more than a menace. Striker rid me of my burden, and he did seem sorry," she said, and Rowan grinned.

"May we reimburse you for the pig?" Alena asked, and the woman laughed again.

"No worries, mam, you paid far more than you should. There will be plenty of soap for my guests and pork pie. They need not know the precise circumstances of Lucca's demise. To tell you the truth, most of them will be as grateful as I am. Lucca had a way of taking exception to people and chasing them down the lane. If I weren't the best cook this side of the river, I would have no clients," she made light of the situation, and they couldn't help smiling. Humans so rarely treated them with such warmth. They bid her farewell and went on their way.

They reached the castle, seemingly falling apart at the edges, on the third night of their travels just as daylight tinged the dark. Marcus knocked with impunity, and a slide revealed deeper darkness beyond.

"Who are you?" Someone demanded imperiously.

"Lord Marcus from the house..." The slide slammed shut before he finished speaking, inside a heavy beam boomed out of its slot, and chains rattled. The door swung open to reveal a figure cloaked in rags that covered every bit of flesh and hid her face in the folds of a cowl.

"In," she demanded curtly, and they obeyed.

She ordered them to secure the horses in the stable; she grumbled when Marcus explained Striker's needs, but he got to spent his time in another coal cellar, but this one could house the entire inn. They crossed a courtyard, made their way through a gate in the wall, then on to another part of the castle. They followed her inside through a side entrance, and it felt like following a ghost. She turned to face them when they reached a large foyer.

"You come," She indicated Marcus and Alena with one gloved finger. "You stay," she ordered, and Rowan glanced at them, but obeyed. This place made Marcus uneasy, she sensed it, but he had no choice if he wanted answers. Alena looked at Rowan once, and her eyes held a warning.

Rowan felt watched. She folded her arms and observed her surroundings with attention to detail. This place would not intimidate her, she decided.

The woman led Alena and Marcus to a dimly lit chamber where another rag clothed crone was seated on the floor with her features also hidden from their sight by a cowl.

"Marcus," her husky old voice crooned, and he involuntarily cringed inside. Over time he developed the vampire's dislike of what age did to mortals. The way it wasted them away, stealing the potential of youth from them, and giving them wisdom when they no longer had any use of it, before depriving them of even that.

"Your need must be dire to approach the likes of me, vampire prince," she drawled and cackled as if she could read his mind and Marcus felt his dislike of her threatening to show.

"Sit," she ordered with authority and having come this far, they sat on the pillows on the other side of the embers which glowed in the small square on the floor.