The Sorceress backed away from the creature that had come through the web. It had obviously been sleeping in the cell beyond. She had caught the hint of movement in the last instant before it had appeared, but she hadn’t been quick enough to escape its flailing claws. A ragged nail had sliced her flesh, and her shoulder and arm stung as if they had been burned. She knew she needed to get back into the sunshine as quickly as possible and wash out the wound. Perenelle shuddered to think what foulness might be hiding under the vetala’s fingernails.

Behind the vampire, the spider web hung in ragged tatters. Tiny green sparks danced across the web, and she wondered if these were what had awakened the creature. Each strip still showed a sliver of Nicholas, Josh and Shakespeare.

And then the second creature stepped through the dangling threads of web.

Perenelle noted that the two creatures were alike enough to be twins. Their faces were beautiful, with fine delicate Indian features, flawless skin and enormous liquid brown eyes. She knew that they would usually keep their black bat wings wrapped around them, concealing their emaciated gray-skinned bodies and clawed hands and feet until the moment before they struck.

Backing down the corridor, Perenelle stepped slowly away from the vetala, desperately trying to remember what she knew about them. They were primitive and beastlike, creatures of the night and darkness, and like many of the vampire clan who were nocturnal, they were photosensitive and could not stand sunlight.

She needed to reach the stairs behind her… but she dared not turn her back to run.

De Ayala appeared behind the two vetala. The ghost raised both hands and flowed through the creatures. It moaned, a long terrifying howl of utter despair and absolute loneliness that echoed and reechoed off the damp stones. The vetala ignored the ghost. Their huge eyes were focused on the Sorceress, mouths slightly parted to reveal perfectly white teeth, chins damp with saliva. De Ayala winked out of existence and then doors slammed and rattled above their heads with enough force to send dust drifting down on top of them. The vetala didn’t even react. They simply continued to inch ever forward.

“Madame, I cannot help you,” de Ayala said desperately, appearing alongside the Sorceress. “It is as if they know I am a ghost and powerless to harm them.”

“They look hungry,” Perenelle murmured, “and they know they cannot eat you.” She stopped, suddenly noticing that the shreds of spiderweb behind the vampires had started to glow a dull lambent green. She caught fragmentary glimpses of her husband outlined in his aura.

“Perenelle.”

Nicholas’s voice was the merest gossamer whisper. There was a flicker of movement alongside him, and then his aura flared, bright enough to shed a dull green glow through the rags of web over the corridor on Alcatraz.