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PROLOGUE

“I hear you have another blood knight for me to kill.” Lord Baxter Redpeak grinned toothily.

Belphegor, mother of all vampires, rose from the Throne of Shadows located deep within the Fortress of Sloth. The devil shook out her wings and took long-legged strides off the Throne’s dais. She approached the dapper vampire, her eyes gleaming with purpose, weighted by the centuries she’d spent on this wretched world.

“Indeed, I do, Lord Redpeak.” Her voice was a clear, silvery note—resonant and commanding, yet also soft and seductive. She walked up to him, one arm folded under her generous breasts, the other tucked to the side.

Redpeak dipped his head a touch more, his lips curled into a sinister yet reverent grin. He rose to his full height and fitted his top hat back in place. With his pale skin, black hair, and brown eyes that seemed almost red in the right light, Redpeak was every bit the ancient, pureblood vampire. The knee-length frock coat, elaborate vest, and richly embroidered cravat only added to the sense he’d been plucked from a bygone era. Most vampires employed a degree of subtlety in public, but Redpeak wore his heritage on his sleeve.

Belphegor couldn’t help but smile inwardly at the presence of her most loyal and capable servant. Yes, Redpeak had his quirks—all her vampires did to some degree—but this one relished each chance to curry her favor. He was a straightforward killer, perhaps to a fault, which Belphegor found refreshing from the tiresome scheming she had to put up with from other vampiric lords and ladies, especially those control freaks who ran the Big Tech companies.

“I had begun to wonder if the blood knights were extinct.” Redpeak’s voice was as smooth as velvet and as deadly as a hidden razor. [HH1.1]

“As had I.” Belphegor shrugged as if afflicted by a minor irritant. “A pity.”
Their voices echoed softly in the vast underground chamber. The arcano-mechanical interface of the Throne of Shadows—the “throne” itself, as it were—sat at the center of a wide, circular platform, but the actual device was much, much larger. The Throne’s high back devolved into thick cable runs, tracing upward and fanning outward to connect with the machinery built into the high ceiling. More machines extended downward from the platform, forming a thick column several hundred meters tall with conduits and coolant pipes spanning the deep, dark pit. 

A young vampire had once told Belphegor the chamber resembled the emperor’s throne room from Return of the Jedi. Or at least the access pit where technicians could make adjustments to the Throne’s many intricate components. She’d never bothered to watch the movie to find out.

“What do we know so far?” Redpeak asked.

“Not much, I’m afraid. Are you familiar with Lady Iram?” 

“Of course, Great Mother. I make it a point to stay informed on the movements of all the surviving dragons. Why? Has something happened to her?”

“She’s dead.” 

“Oh my.” Redpeak glanced aside in thought. “If I’m not mistaken, it’s been over five centuries since the last draconic death.”

“You aren’t.” Belphegor’s immortal mind recalled the death with great clarity. She’d orchestrated the draconic genocide, after all, and the few survivors had sworn fealty to her.

Not that she’d given them much choice.

“Do the other dragons know?” Redpeak asked.

“Doubtful, but that’s not our immediate concern. We’ll let sleeping dragons lie, as it were. Instead, I want you to investigate how she died.” Belphegor gestured to the small obsidian box set beside her throne. 
Redpeak’s reddish eyes flicked to the box. “Ah, the dragon’s death box, linked to her across all space and time. I wish you would share with me how to craft such an artifact.”

“Perhaps one day,” Belphegor teased, and meant it. If any vampire deserved to be taught the secrets of her magic, it was Lord Redpeak.

“What message did the box convey?”

“That she’d been killed by a blood knight.”

“A blood knight killed a dragon?” A hint of glee twinkled in his eyes. “I haven’t faced a challenge like this in, oh, perhaps three or four hundred years.”

“What is the status of Knightfall?”

“Four of our number are out on assignments, but can—and will—be recalled for a threat of this magnitude. The rest stand ready for your orders, Great Mother.” He grinned with obedient malice, fangs bare. “Will you grant me the pleasure of killing yet another blood knight?”

“Eventually, but first I have a task for you.”

“You have only to name it.”

“The Prime Grimoire. I want it moved.”

Redpeak’s brow creased. “Because of the blood knight?”

“Because of what the existence of another blood knight implies.” Belphegor paused to see if her servant made the connection and was delighted to see his eyes glint with understanding.

“You suspect the angel Sandalphon has returned.”

“Correct, Lord Redpeak. It’s a possibility we can’t ignore. While the transplanar hexes I cast on Earth’s dimensional divide have served us well, we know they’re not impervious. Sandalphon may have found a gap she can exploit. And even if she blundered straight through them, I doubt the hexes would kill her. Maim, perhaps. But kill outright?” Belphegor shook her head. “Angels are hard to put down for good.”

“Then, if the angel has returned to this plane, you believe she’ll seek the Prime Grimoire?”

“It’s one avenue open to her, so we’ll work to close it.”

“The grimoire is well defended,” Redpeak assured her. “Both externally, and from within. None but your most trusted servants can read it.”

“Sandalphon could, given enough time. And while angels are naturally patient, the appearance of another blood knight tells me she’s put a new plan into motion. The Prime Grimoire represents a point of vulnerability for us. It contains details on every spell we deploy through the Throne of Shadows, spells that keep the human populace ignorant of us and limit the powers of most demihumans. Vampires control the world because of these spells, and if an enemy were ever able to study them …”

“They would possess the knowledge necessary to unravel them on a large scale,” Redpeak finished. “Though not the means.”

“Don’t underestimate Sandalphon.”

The vampire dipped his head submissively, but the devil continued:

“I only damaged her citadel twenty years ago, and it has undoubtedly healed itself to some extent over the past two decades. We have no way of knowing what resources the angel has, and so we shall prepare accordingly for all contingencies.”

“I understand and obey, Great Mother.” Redpeak met her gaze. “I will see to it the Prime Grimoire is moved to an appropriately secure location. Perhaps the ‘Galaxy,’ if only temporarily?”

“An excellent suggestion. See to it.”

“Of course, Great Mother. As for the blood knight?”

“Eliminate that threat with extreme prejudice.”

Redpeak’s grin became almost manic.

“Lady Iram was based in the city of Chester Creek,” Belphegor continued. “Gather Knightfall and head there. Find and kill the blood knight. If the enemy turns out to be male, slaughter any females with him. Take no chances. Stamp out his line once and for all.”

“With pleasure, Great Mother.” Redpeak removed his top hat and swept his arm into an elegant bow.