relaxed.

Toret picked up the fallen purse and stepped toward them, but only as far as the alley's near corner. He held out the purse.

"I think you dropped this."

"Not me, lad," answered the one with the sword. "It's not mine."

"Are you sure? I saw it fall as you passed."

Curiosity crossed their features. They stepped closer, and Toret settled back slightly, as if wary of their approach, forcing them to move in front of the alley's mouth. The leader approached without fear and looked down.

"No, lad, you're an honest fellow, but that isn't—"

Toret sprang at him, clamping down with one strong hand over the man's mouth and wrapping his other arm about his throat. Before the sailor could reach for his sword, Toret wrenched him sideways into the alley and dragged him farther into the darkness.

The instant Toret had moved, Chane lunged from the shadows and lifted the second one off his feet, the sailor's mouth equally stilled by an iron grip. A quick spin into the alley, and the second sailor, struck the brick wall and slumped.

"Chane!" Toret called, holding his struggling victim.

In a flash, Chane swung hard with one fist, catching Toret's sailor in the jaw with a sharp crack. The sailor slumped unconscious.

"Not so hard," Toret snapped. "You'll kill him."

The sailor moaned, and Chane shook his head. "He is still alive."

Toret knelt atop the sailor, hesitating for a moment. He was starving but couldn't allow himself to fail, no matter what it cost him. His actions were all based on what he'd heard from his old master and maker, Lord Corische. He'd never actually seen Corische raise an undead, but he'd heard enough over the years to piece the process together.

Gripping the back of the sailor's head, he bit into the man's throat and drank without caution, feeling life and strength slam into his body like an overwhelming wave. He had fasted in order to take in more life than usual, and he took in as much as he could hold. This was the gluttonous gorging of the starved, with no pleasure in it as his body seemed to tear inside under the pressure of so much filling him up all at once.

He slowed immediately as he heard the sailor's heartbeat falter. His victim had to die so fast and hard, with a full leaching of his life energies, that it pushed him beyond the point of death before it actually occurred. He was guessing at what came next, but it had worked with Sapphire and Chane.

Toret pulled his teeth out of the sailor's flesh, slashed open his own wrist with his nails, and forced the dripping wound into his victim's mouth. Trying to keep from choking with his last breath, the sailor swallowed down Toret's dark fluids.

The man's heart stopped beating.

Toret fell, writhing in pain.

The alley darkened before his eyes, and sounds of his own body convulsing on the alley floor faded in his ears. Perhaps this was why there were so few of their kind.

Awareness died in Toret as he suffered the sailor's death as if it were his own. In this moment, he and his new creation were connected as one.

The first time with Sapphire had been horrifying, experiencing death again. What would have happened if he'd given in, sinking to the bottom of the darkness? Would he have truly died?

His own flesh felt like it would split and rupture from the inside. He forced his senses to widen, open, and then slammed his fist against the alley wall. Pain shot up his arm, but he didn't dismiss it as any undead could. He let it stab him. He struck the wall again. And again. Finally he flopped down on his back.

The hard cobble ground into his shoulders, and he let the irritation goad him. Any sensation to stay aware and pull him back up away from death was welcome.

As his vision returned, he found Chane staring down at him curiously.

Toret tried to speak but couldn't and simply held up a wavering hand. Chane obeyed, pulling him to his feet, and Toret staggered deeper down the alley to disgorge.

He'd not taken in all of the sailor's blood, for that was physically impossible. But he'd taken in so much to kill so quickly, that he couldn't feed on the other man if he was already glutted. His abdomen clenched as he heaved, and like an overturned bucket, blood poured from his mouth to splash on the ground, collecting in a dark pool around his feet.

Toret's vision jumped