The Vampire Hunters (Book 2): Vampyrnomicon by Scott M. Baker

out a single individual. Muhammad al Muhammad Abu Bakir, the wizard who, according to rumor, could grant a person eternal life and unlimited strength.
    Adham found Abu Bakir just after dawn in his home within the shadows of Justinian’s Wall. He sat in a darkened room on the first floor, reading. Adham had expected some sort of demon, a physically twisted creature repulsive to the sight. Instead, he stood face-to-face with a kindly-looking elderly man, approximately fifty years of age, well-groomed, with salt-and-pepper colored hair and beard and expensive clothes and sandals. This man easily could have passed for a respectable mullah. Only two aspects of his appearance contradicted Adham’s original assessment. As the city panicked around him, Abu Bakir sat in his chair, thumbing through the pages of his book, at peace with the circumstances. No, more than merely at peace. He reveled in the debacle.
    Then there were his eyes, the windows to the soul. Abu Bakir’s eyes were dark, intense, and void of emotion, a portent of the power and inhumanity that lay beneath. Adham had found his wizard.
    The creaking of the door warned Abu Bakir of the uninvited guest. Instead of sounding an alarm, he looked up from his book and focused on Adham. An uneasy few seconds passed as neither man moved, one summing up his intruder, the other hoping he had not squandered his opportunity. Finally, Abu Bakir closed his book and placed it on the table.
    “How may I help you?”
    “Forgive me, habib . I’ve come to request a favor.”
    “You do not know me well enough to call me habib , slave.” Abu Bakir motioned for him to enter.
    “How did you know I was a slave?”
    “No Nubian in Antioch dresses so shoddily unless he’s a slave.”
    Adham knelt in front of Abu Bakir. His eyes fell on the book. The words were in Arabic, but he was quite familiar with the text. “You’re reading The New Testament?”
    “You know it?”
    “I’m a Christian,” he said a bit too eagerly, hoping to forge a bond. “I didn’t know you were one.”
    “I’m not.”
    “But why…?”
    “It’s always good to know one’s enemies.” A loud shriek from a woman penetrated the room. “As for this request you came to ask about. If you’re seeking asylum, I’m afraid my place will offer you little refuge.”
    “I don’t seek refuge. I want to become like you.”
    “Like me.” Abu Bakir’s voice took on a tone of distrust.
    “All the slaves say you can bestow immortality and great strength. I want to be a wizard like you.”
    “A wizard?” Abu Bakir laughed heartily. “You’re pitiful. You come here on your knees and beg me for immortality in the hopes you’ll survive this massacre? Get out of my house before I kill you myself.”
    Adham jumped to his feet, his hands clenched into fists. “I don’t care about immortality. I just want vengeance on my master.”
    Abu Bakir rose from his chair and contemplated Adham for several moments. He spit in Adham’s face. Adham retaliated with a punch to Abu Bakir’s jaw, and instantly regretted it. Not for striking the wizard, but because a punch that should have killed him glanced off like a slap from a little girl. Abu Bakir smiled.
    “You have the rage to become one of us. And I can’t think of a better gift to leave behind for our Crusader friends.” Abu Bakir studied him further. “Are you certain you want this?”
    “Yes.”
    “More than eternal salvation from your Christian God?”
    “Yes!” Adham was surprised at how willingly he discarded his faith.
    The nail of Abu Bakir’s left forefinger turned into a talon that he used to slice lengthwise along his wrist. Blood flowed from the gash. He held up the wrist to Adham’s mouth. “Drink.”
    Adham gulped greedily, for once not minding sharing his body with another man. As he drank, Abu Bakir took Adham’s left hand and bit into the wrist, drinking Adham’s blood. The two men fed off of each other for several minutes before Adham