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Jander began to feel a dreadful, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Six?" he repeated. No, surely it could not be-there were many ruffians out in the woods…

But he had no time to question further. From the direction of the burning abbey came a chorus of laughter and whooping. Endris turned horrified eyes on the four men who emerged from the shadows, cried once more, "Hide yourself!" and charged, weaponless, at his enemies.

It was perhaps the single bravest gesture Jander had ever witnessed in several centuries. For a moment he stared, dumbfounded. He recognized these men. They were the band of six killers upon whom he had attempted to feed a few weeks ago. He realized, with a dreadful shudder, that they had followed him. In all ignorance, he, Jander Sunstar, had led them to this place, had caused them to butcher the innocent priests, had given them the opportunity to defile the grove that had succored him.

They were busy beating Endris. They did not bother using weapons; they could draw out the pleasure longer if they slew Endris with bare hands and skilful blows. The men, their faces burned into Jander's brain, had not seen him. Not yet. He could do as Endris had wished him to- hide in his protective cairn, wait out the storm, and emerge whole, sane, his soul still reprieved.

But that would mean letting Endris, and all the other good men who had shown him only kindness, die senseless, brutal deaths.

Tears stung Jander's eyes as his heart broke. '

With a cry of mingled outrage and deepest grief, Jander charged the group of thieves and murderers. He transformed into a gold wolf as he left the protective circle, the quiet place, and felt the full weight of his curse resettle upon him. The red thirst raged, more powerful than he had ever known it. Strength flooded his limbs, and his rage knew satisfaction when the eyes of the nearest man fastened upon him and widened in horror.

The wolfs jaws crunched down, severing the throat. Blood flowed down Jander's chin, and he almost forgot his true purpose in the overwhelming desire to lap up the crimson fluid. By sheer strength of will, he turned away from the dead man, found another victim, and again launched himself at the man's throat.

Now it was the interlopers who screamed in fear. To terrify them further, Jander permitted himself to change back into his elven form. But no elf who breathed air looked like this; golden face covered with blood, long fangs extended, gray eyes snapping with fury.

Two were dead. The other two fled, but Jander outran them with ease. One he slew with his dagger; the other's neck was snapped with a single twist of one powerful, sharp-nailed hand.

Four were dead. That left two more, raiding and defiling and destroying inside the abbey. Jander tensed himself and prepared to run in that direction. A hoarse call from Endris brought him up sharply.

"Jander!"

The anger ebbed, to be replaced by fear. Others, knowing his true nature, had rejected him. What would Endris do? Slowly, the elven vampire turned around.

Endris had been badly beaten. Jander tasted a sudden fear that perhaps his intervention-his sacrifice-had not been in time. But the young man struggled to prop himself up on his good elbow, a bloody, broken hand reaching out for the vampire. Jander went to him. If Endris wished to spit in his face, he had the right to do so.

Endris coughed, struggled for breath. "You spoke… of evil… I did not know. Go back, Jander. You left… sanctuary for good cause… Go back in."

Hope flared suddenly in Jander's heart. Would Eldath and Silvanus indeed understand why he had rejected their greatest of gifts? Would they give him another chance? Endris's words gave him new resolve. As gently as he could, Jander slipped his arms beneath his friend's body.

"You need help," he said quietly when Endris protested. The young man, though strong and muscular, weighed next to nothing in Jander's grip, thanks to the return of his vampiric strength. Quickly, keeping