Blood Eternal by Marie Treanor

completely wiped, just leaving enough for Luk to know that it happened. And yet the soul was the same; it was still Luk.
    Blood pounded behind Saloman’s aching eyes. He wished he could weep to release the excruciating pressure, to honor the Luk he’d loved. But tears were the one thing beyond him now, as if some vital organ had been damaged on the night of his betrayal by those he’d loved the most: Maximilian, his first “child,” and Tsigana, his lover. Tsigana, whom he’d forgiven so often because her human flaws had fascinated him. And yet he’d never imagined she would ever commit the ultimate betrayal and assist in his murder.
    Tsigana. The whole cave was redolent with her echo. She’d filled Luk’s mind as he lay here, as if he imagined he’d lost her to death. What would it do to him to know that she’d been back in Saloman’s bed the day of Luk’s burial? To Saloman, that had been a necessary if slightly perverse honoring of his cousin; to Tsigana it had been an imagined triumph. To Luk . . . Well, Luk didn’t even know who Saloman was anymore.
    Or did he? Saloman ground his fingers into the stone until they bled. He couldn’t follow the lingering memory of Tsigana back to its source, Luk’s mind, for fear of harming or even alerting Luk before he was ready. But the image left from Luk’s thoughts was accurate, as was the scent, the feel of Tsigana, except, surely, it altered occasionally to fit the more vital, open face of Elizabeth, in whose veins ran Tsigana’s blood.
    Something was returning to Luk. He was holding on to Tsigana, using her memory to try to reach others, to work out how the other woman’s blood smelled of Tsigana.
    Saloman released the earth and stone between his fingers and rose to his feet. The dirt fell away from his skin, which began to heal over the abrasions he barely noticed. If Luk was remembering already, then Saloman, Elizabeth, and the whole world had better look out.
    Outside the cave, Saloman lifted his face into the wind. He could smell Elizabeth and the hunters, hear their grumbles because they still could not pick up the trail of the vampires. There was a reason for that, of course. The hunters were heading in the wrong direction. Either Luk or Dante had worked out that they were being pursued. Perhaps Luk had mentioned seeing a woman who smelled of Tsigana, and Dante had put two and two together. Either way, the vampires had swung around in a large arc and were heading back south by a more western route.
    Elizabeth. You’re going the wrong way. Follow my signal.
    If they timed it right, he could kill Luk and keep the fight going long enough for the hunters to arrive and take part. Another cooperative venture would then be won at very little loss. And Saloman could turn his attention to the rebellion rising among the vampires of Istanbul. Without Luk, it would be simple to quell.
    Saloman began to run, lengthening his stride to massive leaps so that he covered the uneven ground faster than the human eye could see. The vampires were using some erratic, haphazard masking to disguise their presence. Saloman applauded their caution, which, however, was useless against him. If Luk ever troubled to mask, things would be different, but at the moment, Saloman was invisible to them while able to track their every move.
    When they were finally visible to his naked eye, hundreds of feet below his vantage point, he acknowledged that he had to look into his cousin’s eyes when he killed him. He owed him that. Again. And for that, he needed surprise on his side.
    He jumped once, landing on a lower ledge, darting forward and downward before any of them could glance up. Dante led the pack at a moderate, resting pace now, with Luk trailing along in the rear, occasionally shaking his head as if plagued by some massive twitch.
    Oh, yes, Dante would die.
    A moment longer, Saloman listened to the beat of his own heart. Then he grasped the sword at his hip for strength and jumped