London, 2005

The sun fell behind the snow-capped mountains, setting the countryside ablaze and turning the grass dark gold. A brisk autumn breeze blew across the moor and whistled through the thin arrowloop windows of the tower. Inside the circular stone fortress, a figure stood quietly, watching the remnants of the sunlight fade away. Only when the land beyond had dropped into darkness did he turn back to the quiet emptiness of his home. It was a solitude he held onto desperately, as his services were in high demand.

Herbs hung from rafters, drying in the warmth provided by the fire in the hearth. He fingered a sprig of rosemary as he walked under it on the way to his bed. He knew he should be working, but of late, his mind had been filled with premonitions that were unsettling at best. He stretched out on his bed and closed his eyes. Golden hair blanketed the rich blue silk of his pillows, creating a shimmering spider's web.

There had been a time when his days had not been so worrisome, when he had walked among others and wasn't recognized for what he was. Now he was feared, which suited him well when he wished to simply observe. A reputation was something he knew he could not avoid, and indeed, the one he had was proving to be rather interesting. He opened his eyes and stared up at the blue canopy over him. In the span of a single breath an image formed, of himself and another man entwined in each other's arms. The man's dark hair blanketed them as they kissed. Cian shook his head and the image disappeared.

He sighed and got out of bed. He had a job to do. It was why he was here to begin with. No amount of daydreams could change that, no matter how pleasant they seemed. He pulled his cloak from its hook on the wall and drew it around his shoulders. Then he circled his hand in the air before him and stepped through a portal of swirling gray smoke.

When he stepped back out, he found himself in an alleyway. He looked around, taking care that no one saw him emerge. Most people in the ordinary world wouldn't react well to seeing a man appear out of thin air. When he was sure he was alone, he started for the nearest bar. The bar was packed full of young people dancing and drinking, in varying states of undress. Cian paid them little mind as he made his way to the one empty table in the room. As soon as he sat down, a young woman came up to him.

"What can I getcha to drink?" she asked as she put a small square napkin down on the table in front of him.

He thought for a moment and smiled. It wasn't often that he indulged himself, but he had the feeling he would need it tonight. "Absolut," he told her. She nodded and turned away, moving back through the crowd toward the bar.

Cian watched her go and then scanned the throng of bodies filling the dance floor. He didn't know what the man looked like, but when his gaze settled on a figure watching him from the opposite corner, he knew he had found him. Their gazes locked for only the briefest moment before the waitress returned with Cian's drink. Cian handed her the money and she flashed him a smile before walking away. When he looked back to the corner, the man was gone. Cian took a drink and closed his eyes as the vodka burned his throat. He knew his man wasn't far; he could still feel him. A few moments later, a tall figure appeared at his side. Cian took another drink and set his glass down, not bothering to look up.

"You're following me," the man said.

Cian nodded.

"Why? What have I done to garner the attention of a... sorcerer?" The word was spoken with a distinct distaste that made Cian grin.

"Preying on the weak," Cian replied without looking at him.

The man slammed both hands flat on the table and leaned down. "I'm a vampire," he growled. "What do you expect?"

Cian didn't flinch and instead took another drink. "You're an abomination."

"I merely do what I must to survive."

Cian looked up then. The vampire's dark eyes held no remorse and, in truth, Cian had expected none. He stood slowly and motioned toward the door.

"Perhaps we should take this conversation to somewhere less populated," he said. He started for the door and the vampire fell in behind him. As soon as they were back in the alleyway, well out of sight, Cian turned and pinned the vampire against the brick wall.

"Do you really think you can kill us all, Carmichael?" the vampire said with a laugh. "We're everywhere. One man cannot kill us all."

Cian raised his hand and a blue flame sprang to life in his palm. He let go and the vampire shrieked as the flames crawled over his body. Cian watched as the creature crumpled into a pile of smoldering ashes.

"That's your mistake, my friend," he said quietly. "I am no man."

He turned and walked away without looking back. Killing was part of his job, and although his true nature did not lend itself well to such a profession, Cian's sense of duty was strong. The protection of humanity was his concern, not the need to show mercy to a vampire. He moved quietly through the darkening streets, which were now hazy with a light drizzle. Ahead of him, the gothic magnificence of St. Mary's Cathedral stood like a silent beacon to those who would heed its call. As Cian ascended the rounded steps leading up to the double oak doors, he grew more at ease, despite the incessant nagging in the back of his mind of trouble that not even he understood.

He opened one of the doors and walked in, closing it silently behind him. Beyond the entryway, he could see several people in the sanctuary, each one of them lost in their own prayer. The soft sound of someone approaching drew his attention from the sanctuary to the hall on his left. The young woman beamed at him.

"Cian! It's so wonderful to see you again."

"Is he in?" Cian asked her.

"Yes, he's here and waiting for you," she replied as they walked down a dark, stone-lined hallway. They stopped at a wooden door marked 'Employees Only' and she unlocked it. He followed her inside and with a press of a well-concealed button, a door opened in the back wall. She stepped aside and waved.

"Thank you, Lisa," he said. He kissed her on her cheek and stepped through the door. Once it was closed behind him, Cian started down the short hallway lit only by the track lighting hidden somewhere near the ceiling. At the end of the hall, he pushed open another door.

"Cian. Please, come in, come in."

Cian didn't see him, but he knew the man was there at his desk, facing the fireplace, the orange-red flames playing across his aging face. "Good evening, Father Shepard," Cian said as he closed the door behind him. The priest's office was blessedly warm, and Cian was finally able to relax. He shrugged his cloak off and draped it over the back of a chair.

Father Shepard turned around and smiled. "How have you been?"

"Busy," Cian said as he stretched his arms over his head and shook his hair free of its ponytail. Waves of brilliant gold cascaded over his back and shoulders. When he flexed the muscles of his shoulders and back, two wings unfurled, their azure feathers as pure as the finest sapphire and the overall wingspan twice as long as Cian himself was tall.

"Feel better?" Father Shepard asked as he leaned back in his chair with a grin.

"Much." Cian gently moved his wings, taking care not to stir up any significant breeze.

"It's always a magnificent sight to see you do that," the priest said. "Did you finally find the man you were looking for?"

Cian pulled a stool over and sat down, letting his wings dip down behind him. Their feathered tips brushed softly across the lacquered wooden floor. "I finally cornered him in a bar downtown," he said, referring to the pile of ashes in a nondescript alleyway. He leaned over and rested his forearms on his knees.

"What's next?"

"I've been receiving reports from Rachel and Lee." Cian looked up and met Father Shepard's gaze. "It seems there's more to their problems than merely rogue vampires."

"Oh?"

Cian nodded. "I don't know any details, but I've heard enough to tell me it has something to do with the Prince of London himself."

Father Shepard sat back as a worried look crossed over his wrinkled face. "Cian, be careful when dealing with him."

"I will. I don't relish the idea of meeting Mael Black, but I fear I may have no choice. If it were up to me, all vampires would be destroyed. They are all abominations."

Father Shepard nodded. "Yes, I feel the same. However, so long as Black keeps his underlings under control, there shouldn't be a problem."

Cian wasn't so convinced, but he nodded and stood, folding his wings out of sight. "I must be going. Rachel and Lee are waiting for me. I must keep an eye on things, including Black. I don't trust him."

Father Shepard said nothing more and Cian left his office. Once he was back in the main hallway, Lisa stopped him.

"Cian," she said with a noticeable touch of concern to her voice. "Are you all right? You look more distracted than normal."

Cian smiled and kissed her forehead softly. "I'm fine. My work is not easy, but it must be done. Tell your mother hello for me?"

Lisa smiled and nodded as Cian turned and left the church. Lee was waiting, and Cian had a feeling he was about to get some more news to add to his growing unease. When he reached Lee's apartment building, he took the stairs to the third floor. He stopped at apartment number five and forced his thoughts to calm. Lee would know he was troubled.

A few minutes after he knocked on the door, it opened to reveal a quite disheveled young man. He gave Cian a sheepish grin and stepped to the side, waving him into the apartment. Cian shook his head and walked in. As soon as the door was closed, Lee turned around, causing an errant feather to set a picture swaying on its hook behind him. He stopped the portrait, straightened it, and turned back to Cian.

"Do you always answer the door like that?" Cian asked him, nodding to the white wings.

"You know I don't, but I knew it was you." Lee walked into the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator. "Want something to drink?" he called.

"Water," Cian said as he sat down on the couch. "Where's Rachel?"

"Working."

Cian took the glass and glanced up at the angel before him. "She made you stay home, didn't she?"

Lee sank down onto the couch with a grimace. "How'd you guess?"

"Lee," Cian said, leaning forward. "What's going on? This has more to do with than rogue vampires."

Lee sighed and leaned his head back on the couch. "Yeah, it does. I'm not sure what's going on. I'm not particularly welcome around here."

"Why?"

Lee raised his head and pinned Cian with an odd gaze. "Because I know you."

Cian nodded. "I suppose that does put a damper on things. I'm surprised they leave you alone."

"They don't mess with me because I don't do any of the killing. Rachel doesn't like to take chances though, so she acts as a liaison. They don't know about us."

"That's surprising," Cian said. "You'd think Black would at least know."

"If he does, I haven't heard anything. Rachel hasn't heard anything in that regard either. They seem to trust her."

Cian took a drink of his water. "That helps." He set the glass down and looked over at Lee. The angel looked tired, like he hadn't slept in a while. His pale blue eyes told a much different story than his calm demeanor suggested. "What's wrong?"

"I think Rachel is growing tired of this game."

Cian sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why do you say that?"

"Because she's been staying out more than she used to," Lee said quietly. "Cian, I'm beginning to think maybe my trust in her is misplaced."

"What do you mean?"

"I went out last night and found her talking to someone in the shadows. Normally that wouldn't bother me, but a chill swept over me then that I couldn't shake. Something didn't feel right."

Cian had been worried about just such a thing. It had been his fear when Lee had first met the woman. On the surface, Rachel seemed sweet and caring. Beneath the surface, however, Cian sensed something darker. He had tried to warn Lee, but as was Lee's wont, he chose not to listen, even to his own brother. Cian fought the urge to say "I told you so."

"I know what you're going to say," Lee said with a grumble. "I've been listening to you say it over and over in my mind since that night."

"I didn't say a word," Cian countered.

Lee looked over at him with a smirk. "You didn't have to."

"You think she might be working for Black?"

Lee shook his head slowly. "No." He drew in a deep breath then. "I fear she may be working against him."

Cian swallowed hard. No wonder Lee needed desperately to talk to him. If Rachel was working against Mael Black, then she had already signed her death warrant. As he stood up, he glanced down at Lee. "I'm going to have to meet with him eventually, Lee."

"I know. Please don't mention Rachel, Cian."

"You know I won't. Promise me you'll stay out of this. In fact, I'd feel much better if you were to leave. Go back to Father Shepard."

Lee shook his head. "No. I can't leave Rachel. If she's working against Black, then she doesn't realize what danger she's put herself in."

"If she's working against Black," Cian said sternly, "then she's as good as dead, Lee." He turned and walked out of the apartment, frustrated with his brother's stubborn determination to stay in harm's way. As he stepped out into the street, Cian realized he desperately needed a drink.

He found a small, out-of-the-way-bar and slid into one of the back booths, keeping a good view of the doorway. In London, one did not turn his back on anyone. As soon as Cian's drink was in front of him, he lifted it to his lips. Just as he started to put it back down, he stopped, his attention riveted to the front door. He hated coming out at night; the vampires were everywhere, including here.

The vampire at the door looked around and ducked out once again. Cian set his glass down and followed him. As soon as Cian stepped around the corner of the building, a strong hand reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him back into the shadows. He felt an arm slide around his waist, pulling him back hard against the vampire's body. When a hand descended to the front of his pants, Cian gripped the vampire's wrist tightly.

"Do you always find your victims this way?" he asked.

"I want to hear you beg for your life while I'm draining it from you," the vampire growled in his ear.

Cian sighed with annoyance. This was no rogue vampire, only a misguided one. Cian pushed away from him and turned around to face him. The vampire looked surprised. Cian straightened his shirt and glanced up. "You're new to this, aren't you?" he asked. The vampire nodded slowly. "I figured as much."

"Who are you?"

"Let's just say that, if you plan on getting anywhere in this city, you'd be better off not mentioning that you even met me." Cian pulled his cloak back on the side to reveal the silver spike hanging from his belt.

The vampire's eyes widened and he backed away, only to bump into the opposite wall.

"Don't worry," Cian said as he lowered the cloak once more. "You are not a rogue. If you need to feed, come with me."

Cian led the vampire --quite a young one, by his guess --back into the bar. Once they were seated, he waved over the waitress. She nodded and came back to their table, carrying two glasses --one full of dark red wine and the other empty. After she had walked away, Cian drew his knife from its sheath and made a small cut on the palm of his hand. As the blood poured into the empty glass, he looked up. The young vampire's mouth was open in nothing short of disbelief. Cian grabbed a napkin and pressed it in his palm. He nodded to the glass full of blood.

"Drink."

The vampire took a slow sip of the blood and shuddered. It was obvious he was very new to this and not quite used to the taste. Cian removed the napkin and the vampire's eyes widened once more as the cut on Cian's palm faded away.

"What are you?" the vampire asked quietly.

"Don't worry about that," Cian said. "You're not from here, are you?"

"No. I arrived yesterday, from Sensey, in Wales."

"What's your name?"

The vampire looked around, as if making sure no one could hear him. Then he leaned forward. "Brandon Davies."

"When were you turned?" Cian asked, taking a drink of his wine.

"Two days ago," Brandon said.

"Any idea of the vampire's name?"

Brandon shook his head. "No. Although from all that I've heard about rogue vampires, I wouldn't be surprised to find out he is one."

Cian lifted a pale eyebrow dubiously. "A rogue vampire turned you? Now that would be interesting. How old are you?"

"Twenty-two." Brandon looked around again and Cian sensed his nervousness.

"You ran from the one who turned you, didn't you? Why?"

Brandon shuddered. "He wanted me to join him. Said he was going after a master vampire here in London. He was simply trying to boost his numbers."

Cian set his wine glass down slowly. "What master vampire?"

Brandon shrugged. "Some guy I've never heard of. Black or something like that. Don't know his first name."

"Damn," Cian said quietly. "This is getting more complicated by the minute."

"What is?"

"Nothing," Cian said. "You fall under the Prince of London's rule here. His name is Mael Black." He watched the recognition of the last name sink in. "He's the master vampire here, and I don't recommend ever crossing him in any way. Come. I'll take you somewhere safe until tomorrow night. Then you can go to Black."

He stood and ushered Brandon out the door. He would find the vampire a room and then he would go back to see Lee. Something was up, something more involved than he had originally suspected. As they started down the street, Cian stopped abruptly, causing Brandon to run into his back.

"What's wrong?" Brandon asked him.

"Shh..." Cian looked around, then pulled Brandon into the shadows. A few seconds later a small contingent of vampires walked by. He didn't recognize any of them, but they would know him for sure. When he was sure they had passed, he moved back out into the street, pulling Brandon with him.

"Were they rogues?"

Cian laughed. "If they were, they'd be dead by now." He looked over just in time to see Brandon's face lose what little color it had. ***

As she stood outside the club, Rachel was less than patient as she scanned the passing crowd. She began to tap a leather-shod foot on the pavement as she ran a hand over the leg of her pants, brushing at the material. A doorman ushered her inside the club before turning to the next person waiting. Completely ignoring him, she brushed past with an air of impatience and entered the club.

Not one to waste time, she immediately found a less crowded spot to make herself more visible to anyone looking for her. At the same time, she quickly studied the room itself and its occupants.

***

As he scanned the crowd, Ashton's gaze settled on a young woman entering the bar. He watched her with growing interest as she nearly toppled the doorman over when she pushed past him. A slow grin crawled across his lips as he took in her pretty but arrogant form. There was no doubt in his mind --she was his contact. He stood and walked to her table slowly.

When the woman looked up, seeing Ashton approaching her, her gaze narrowed. With an abrupt wave of her hand, she indicated the chair near her. The gesture itself was economic in motion, as if she didn't have time to waste. She didn't look too thrilled with him, but, then, she really didn't seem to care that much for vampires, from what he had heard. Ashton smirked at her as he spun a chair around and sat down hard on the wooden seat. He made no attempt to hide the lascivious gaze he raked over her body.

"Delicious." His gaze moved back up to meet with hers. "Get off your high horse, honey. What information do you have?"

"Not a damn thing unless you cut the bullshit." Her gaze met his with disdain. "And the sooner you do, the sooner I talk." She looked as if she'd as soon kill him as fuck him.

Ashton's grin widened at that. "Feisty," he said with a slide of his tongue over his lips. "I like it. But let's cut to the chase, sweetheart. Iverson doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Though a flicker of fear was barely visible in the depths of her eyes at the mention of that name, nothing else betrayed her state of mind. "Strange, neither do I. Ever hear of a sorcerer named Cian Carmichael?" She maintained a calm, steady gaze on Ashton as she spoke.

Ashton lifted an eyebrow at her. "The queer sorcerer who only shows up when he's not wanted?"

"Then you have heard of him." An unpleasant smirk crossed her lips. "Maybe, just maybe, one of you brilliant, intelligent vampires might be able to take care of him."

"Watch it, sweetheart," Ashton growled. "I know who he is. But how do I know that you aren't lying to save your pretty ass? Just because Iverson likes you doesn't mean he won't hesitate to drain you." He paused for a moment as a very clear flicker of lust shone in his eyes. "Or let one of us do it for him."

That look of fear returned to her eyes before it was quickly subdued. She tapped her clear varnished nails on the polished surface of the table. It could have been taken as a sign of nervousness, but Ashton knew better.

"Take it or leave it, sweetheart." Her tone stressed the last word in a sickeningly sweet way. "Iverson knows the deal, and he'll take my word."

Ashton gripped the woman's hand, almost crushing the slender fingers in his grip. He leaned forward and gripped her chin tightly with his other hand. Before she could pull away, he crushed his lips to hers, forcing his tongue into her mouth in a brutal kiss. A small, pained sound escaped her as the pressure around her fingers increased as she tried to jerk her hand back. She sharply bit at his tongue before Ashton pulled back. Her other hand lifted from the table as if to strike him, but then it slowly lowered.

"For your sake, darlin', I hope so," he drawled.

"I'm fucking Carmichael's brother. Now how valid do you think the information is, asshole?" Folding her arms over her chest, she settled back in her chair and glared at him.

He laughed as he slid his tongue over his lips. "Such a trustworthy slut you are," he said with a sneer. "I bet your boyfriend is pussy-whipped into believing you're only fucking him, isn't he?"

Her gaze slowly moved over him and she gave him a wry smile. "What makes you think he's not the only one I'm fucking?"

A satisfied grin curled Ashton's lips. "I've heard the rumors; seems that your pussy is good enough even for a vampire."

Her attitude suddenly shifted and a deadly still calm seemed to settle over her. "The rumors are wrong, Carter." From her eyes came a darkness that could kill without thought, and it was pinned on him.

"Oh, such coldness." Ashton leaned forward and pinned an equally dark gaze on her. "No wonder Iverson likes you. No wonder he's fucking you every chance he gets."

"Try to get any closer and you might just find out how cold." With an abrupt motion, she stood. "You got what you want. Make sure I get what I want." Staring down at him, her smile mocked him. "And nothing else is your business, is it?"

He grinned but didn't move to stand, nor did he offer any semblance of a thank you. "Later, babe."

Not bothering to say anything, she stared a bit longer before turning away from him and heading for the exit.

Back Story
The Prince's Angel is a complete 94,000 word novel. It is on sale now through Torquere Press.

Written by Mychael Black and Shayne Carmichael, the book is part of the Legends of the Romanorum series. The series contains six books. The Prince's Angel, And the Two Shall Become One, and Forever May Not Be Long Enough are written by Michael and I together, and the main characters are Mael and Cian. Book two is the process of being written and is at 80,000 words. Book three is our heads and we keep having to stuff it back down until we finish book two. Unsuccessful at keeping it down, it's now at 25,000 words.

The other three books: Blood Ties, Blood Magic, and Blood Sins are written by me, Shayne Carmichael. The main characters are Gabriel, Nikolai, Xander and Persys.

Shayne Carmichael - Both Cian and Mael, the main characters, have become very close to our hearts. Cian Carmichael is an angel/sorcerer, and Mael Black is the vampire Prince of London. Mychael and I have had a lot of fun writing them. They've led us, by the nose I might add, into a series of adventures. Between spending our time arguing with Mael and Cian, trying to get them to do what we thought they should, and trying to keep them on the plot and not each other, we've had moments of hilarity and tears.

We originally wrote The Prince's Angel in less than a month. Unfortunately with trying to get book two out, Mychael and I have been interrupted by a myriad of other characters who insist we write their stories as well. Not to mention losing internet access for me. We are brainstorming to get book two done. And if Cian would stop insisting on wanting to get into book three, we might just manage it.