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still damp and warm from the summoning. She stepped forward.
    “Come,” she whispered. “I have called you. Come.”
    The creature stepped into her bed chamber. Alyssa gasped. She knew in one certain instant that this creature had come to command and not to serve. In that same instant she understood that this was what she wanted as well. That it was the only way things could be. She sank to her knees in genuflection.
    “Liege,” she whispered.
    The creature was magnificent. The Seraphim ducked beneath the arch of the door. Larger than any man, it was smoothly muscled, colored a deep ebony, and completely alien. Its beauty was preternatural, its maleness excessive, and the spread of its wings gigantic. In its hand it held an intimidating glaive, and in the blade was set a crystal stone of obvious power.
    The thing drew back obsidian lips and revealed the strong white teeth and fangs of an aristocratic vampire. When it spoke its voice was the deepest of rumbles, and the vibrations of its words rolled through Alyssa’s slight, feminine body and straight into her womb. It made her gasp.
    “Behold. I am Abraxsis, Herald of Anubis.” The Seraphim spread his arms wide, holding his glaive aloft. His erection rose to frightening proportions even as the terrified Alyssa looked on. It frightened her and drew her the way men sick with the arson-fever love fire, wanting to control it and be consumed by it both at once.
    “Behold Abraxsis.” The Seraphim repeated and stepped forward. “You have called me to spill blood in His name, and my price must be met.”
    It grinned, and its animal fangs glittered wet and white against the vivid jet of its lips. Alyssa, suddenly and acutely aware of her nudity, fell back before the creature. Her eyes were wide as the vision of him filled her gaze, and as he stalked forward, a strange and savage demigod, she began to lose herself in his majesty.
    “I know the price.” Her lips quivered. “I know the price, and for the heads of my Infantana and her Caliph I will pay it.”
    “You dare call Abraxsis, Herald of Anubis, for common murder?”
    He towered above her, and she cringed between the muscled columns of his legs. She looked up and saw how the twin spheres of his testicles, as large and round as a bull’s, were drawn up tight against the thick shaft of his erection.
    She realized then that he could smell her own virginity like an aphrodisiac and she understood what the old magics had promised, how far these beings of light and dark were willing to go to claim something no longer even remotely sacred among her own kind.
    She fell back before him and unfolded her legs. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she felt the answering rush down between her thighs. She saw his nostrils flare like those of a dog scenting blood and his erection fairly quiver with his anticipation.
    “Do it,” she whispered. “Take what you want, what you need, then make me Infantana in Gomorrah as my father would have wished. Destroy the enchantments of that bitch sorceress, my false mother and her Caliph. Kill them for me, lover.”
    Then, as the grimoire she had seen in her dream instructed, she parted the sticky folds of her lower lips and whispered the Seraphim’s name in the wild tongue. Abraxsis roared and fell upon her. He was not gentle, and after the first thrust it was her own blood that greased the action.
    But the pain did not matter, though she could not keep from crying out. Each thrust of the archangel pushed her closer to vengeance and to the tower throne. The pain cleared her head and made her think of the pleasures to come and when at last, the boiling mess of his seed splashed inside, she took him in greedily.
     

Chapter Seven
Prior to Ritual Night
     
     
    Khat draped the slave girl across his knee. He felt the soft crush of her breasts against his leg and her silky hair spilled across his lap. He used his big hand to turn her head as he wished, exposing the back of her neck. She could