there, “So your plan is to tell the Prince your plan and then blame it on my father? That is just asinine enough it may work.” The Bishop pounded the table with his fist, “You will put us all to the block! It won’t work! How can you gamble so much on the belief the Regent will take her side in this?” he shouted pointing towards the Vampire. “Because my dear Brother, the Lady Anya will have the full weight of both my office and the church to back her argument.” “So that’s it? You will risk everything we both have for this Vampire you just met?” The Lady Anya looked from one brother to the next waiting for the same explanation as the rest of them, but if she were insulted by the Abbot’s words she did not let it show. The Sheriff looked around the table taking in each face in turn and holding his trump card as long as he could. Finally he leaned forward and placed his e lbows on the table, took a deep breath and said, “No. Of course not! I would never risk my life for some random Vampire, but I would gladly lay down my life for the Lady First of Nottinghamshire…my wife.” A moment of shocked silence filled the room before every voice began to shout.
10 Distant howls ripped through the trees forcing th e infected to open his eyes and scan for nearby danger. Tarik shook his head to clear it and pushed off of the tree he had been leaning against. The infected stumbled forward into a trot and forced his wandering mind to think. “How long have I been running? Am I still g oing south?” Tarik squinted up toward the sky trying to get a glimpse of the stars between the forest canopy branches. He could no longer hear the shifter-wolves crashing through the brush behind him, but that did not prove they had broken off their pursuit. Another round of howling rolled over him sounding more distant than the last giving him a glimmer of hope he may have put some distance b etween himself and the wolves. Stumbling through the tree line Tarik found himself in a farmer’s field, squared off and fenced in from the surrounding woods. A thick column of smoke rose up out of a stone chimney and he could see shadows moving in the candlelight of the small cottage near the far edge of the field. Taking a deep breath the Risen could smell the mixed broth and animal fat bubbling away above the fire in the cabins tiny hearth. With that a spasm of pain shot through his chest, doubling him over and leaving him gasping for breath. “No!” he thought to himself as he struggled for control of his senses. The plague was killing him that much he knew, just as he had known it would since he first volunteered to join the Jinn in eternal life, but how he died he had hoped to control. With each passing hour the hunger inside of him pushed him closer to the brink of the madness he had been warned of. Without the Lady Anya to guide him and her blood to calm his mind, the threat of losing himself to the hunger was very real indeed. Tarik forced his mind to remember her words and fought to hold on to his memories. She had explained to both Tarik and Julnar that the path they had chosen was a dangerous one, and they would feel more pain then their human minds could even begin to understand, but if done correctly, the joys of their new experiences would outweigh the pain and suffering. Tarik closed his eyes and tried to hold an image of their faces, “No! I will not let you down!” he grumbled pushing himself up off of the ground and into a falling trot once more. The Risen thought it would be best to avoid the farmhouse and all the temptations of the farmer’s blood, if he began to feed on a human now in so weakened a state he knew he would not be able to control himself. From there he feared the bloodlust would quickly overwhelm him and his mind would be lost to the hunger. “How long would it take?” he wondered, “Just how long would I roam about like a beast with no memories or sense of self?” he