"Who's to say?" he grumbled as he tried unsuccessfully to keep the child's head from lolling to one side. "The humans often prove themselves to be anything but predictable."

With a disgusted sigh, Lorimer turned his attention to two other dead children propped in wooden chairs beside the first: another girl perhaps a few years older and a cherubic, dark-haired boy no older than six.

The Master moved gracefully across the altar toward his Deacon. Others in the Order busily working within the chamber scuttled from his path and averted their eyes.

"Lorimer, do I hear the taint of displeasure in your tone?" He stopped beside the vampire who continued to fuss with the children's corpses. "Is there something you wish to share with me?"

The general stood and brushed dirt from his knees, made eye contact, then quickly looked away. "It is nothing, my lord."

The Master reached out and gently stroked his servant's chin with long, spidery fingers. "Come now, Lorimer," he urged. "We've been through far too much together to keep secrets now."