The dull breeze swept through the stone corridor, its echo sending shivers down my spine. I forced myself to keep still. The wailing of ghouls would not break my concentration now. Brandon's eyes were as ice. They ceaselessly burned into mine, reading me as only the great warriors could read their enemies. The heat bore down upon us relentlessly. For a moment, I grinned. It was odd that despite everything, once again I was to come face to face with this man. I had risked drowning to escape him. I had battled vampires and faced death by burning. There is an irony in the will of the gods. I wondered if this was a punishment for my neglect to them.
Brandon broke the silence. "We are both warriors Michael. Long ago our kind fought with a dignified honour and knew that it was glorious to die in battle." He paused. His face fell and he downcast his eyes. "Now look at us," he whispered. "We are the last. So many have come before us, and yet so few come to take our place. Is the life