Alexian sat on an outcropping of sandstone, his head lifted to the sky, all hint of life erased from the heavily cloaked silhouette. For all he moved, the vampire could have been a statue. Around him were hardy bits of desert scrub clinging tenaciously to the cracks in the rocks. He liked it out here, where it was quiet, yet not the endlessly shifting sand dunes of the desert proper. His cult had once inhabited this rocky place, in deep underground temples to the Great Mother, Isis. He wondered if they were still there. A scorpion skittered across the bandaged top of his foot, pursued by a rather large lizard, but Alexian didnâ€™t so much as stir. He enjoyed the heat of the afternoon sunlight. Since he couldnâ€™t see it, he might as well feel it.