She was mature enough to admit that she hadn't exactly tried to explain herself. She was on edge. Plus, over the last few hours, she'd fought—three times, had met a demon, and had been informed about the Eirikrson clan coming back. That was more oddities than she'd seen since the start of the Age of Blood, at least. It had been a long night.

"Good idea." Alexius offered his elbow.

"Hang on a second." She went to her bike. The front wheel had been destroyed on impact, flattened into a pancake when it hit the barrier. Belial had been right: the shields around Oldcrest were seriously powerful. The rest was intact, but she couldn't hope to ride it without giving it a little TLC.

She grabbed the bike by the exhaust and lifted it on one of her shoulders, upside down so the leather seat rested on her skin.

"All right, I'm ready."

"I can carry that," the guard offered in a reluctant grunt.

She sent him the most condescending glare she could muster, before reaching her brother. She hadn't needed a man to hold her stuff for almost a thousand years. She certainly wasn't going to start now. Maybe he was offering an olive branch after the whole attack thing, but as she had no intention of forgiving him, she wasn't biting.

Alexius chuckled, after looking between them.

"What?" she asked her brother.

He shrugged. "Not gonna say a thing at all. Come on, then."

He took her hand, and together they stepped over the immaterial line.

The moment the magic shield washed over her, Diana saw it. The three green hills, the lake shining under the dark of a reddening sky. The Wolvswoods. Adairford, the village where her old friends had lived back in the day. As a sickly kid, she wasn't likely to get along with the power-hungry lot on Night Hill. The castle that had housed a witch clan in her days.

"It hasn't changed at all," she managed to say, her voice small.

Time had barely caressed her home. She noticed a few newer buildings in the village, and in the distance, she could see that some of the houses on the hill had changed. But it was still the Oldcrest of her dreams. Oldcrest even smelled the same. Clear and pure.

"Tell me about it." Alexius's mouth was thin. To him, the unchanging territory had been a prison.

"I'm surprised you're here at all, rather than traveling the world," she mused.

He shrugged, leading the way to Night Hill. "Things are complicated at the moment. Besides, my wife is a student here."

Diana blinked. "Wife?" She'd known he was mated, but the specific term was a surprise to her. "You got hitched?"

He grinned. "As of today, in fact. You're crashing a party. Not that I knew we were throwing it at all."

He'd gotten married without her. Diana wasn't going to lie: that hurt. She hid it under a smile. "I'm… Wow. Congratulations. I wouldn't have thought you'd do the marriage thing. How mortal of you."

Immortals didn't like marriages for various reasons. One of them being that most marriages promised a bond until death. Vampires their age had lived long enough to realize that after a while, they could get tired of their spouses. The fae used to swear to each other for a hundred years. A lot more reasonable.

"Avani's my fated mate, Diana," Alexius told her. "I can't wait for you to meet her. In about one minute, I suppose."

They were walking faster than a human could have run. At the gates, Diana dropped her bike and broke into a sprint.

"Bill!" she yelled, rushing into the troll's open arms. "I can't believe you're still here!"

The humongous squash-faced giant squeezed her close, all the while grunting. "I do not like you anymore. You didn't come back. For years and years!"

He finally let her go.

She winced. "I'm here now, Bill! And I brought you something."

The troll sniffled. "Oh?"

Returning to her bike, she opened the left saddlebag. She shuffled through her stuff, pulling out two pairs of boots before finding what she was looking for: an old metal container the size of a shoebox, rusted in places. She brought it back to the gates, and presented it to Bill.

He flipped the lid open. Inside, there was an assortment of trinkets. Magnets, coins, spoons, little sculptures, keychains, stones, rings, pieces of lace, ribbons.

"You remembered."

When she'd left, he'd asked—well, he'd downright ordered—her to bring back something from where she went, so each time she visited a new country, she had ended up collecting one souvenir. There were over two hundred bibelots, from every single country in the world, including some that had long since fallen.

"Duh. I'm a vampire, you know."

His twisted face beamed, and he hugged her again, so close he lifted her up a good foot from the ground. "Maybe I still like you."

"I like you too, Bill."

He put her down gently. Diana patted herself to put her clothes back in order, and turned to get back to her bike. To her annoyance, the tall, dark, and handsome guy whose name she didn't even know was carrying it.

Hand on her hip, she glared. "I don't need help."

"I'm aware."

He wasn't letting the bike go.

"I don't like strangers touching my things."

That wasn't accurate at all—she was all for sharing, never one to grow attached to material possessions. Except for her boots. But he didn't know that.

"Good thing I'm no stranger."

Her jaw set. "I don't know you."

"Oh?" His tone was challenging. "And here I distinctly remember dragging you home once or twice, after you'd snuck out to play in Adairford."

She hid her surprise. As a young child, Diana had snuck out a few times, to her mother's despair. On the rare days when she'd felt strong enough, all she'd wanted was to play with her friends. Her parents would have never allowed it. Helsings simply didn't mix with servants. None of the children on the hill were allowed anywhere near her either, for fear of their giving her any sort of sickness. Colds were alarming enough back in the day for most people, but from the moment she was born, some one month early, Diana had had a piss-poor immune system. She would never have survived if it weren't for magic. Her parents hadn't wanted to take any chances with her from that point. Her sole companion had been her older brother.

She'd guessed that the man in front of her was ancient. No run-of-the-mill vampire could even hope to restrain her for a single second. She hadn't realized he might be older than dirt. Diana hadn't met anything this old in a long time. Ancient vampires didn't roam the streets at night. They remained in their seats of power, at the head of their clan—their family. She was within Oldcrest now. She shouldn't have been surprised to meet others like her here.

She wondered what house he led. Not the Drakes—she knew all three of their ancients. Certainly not the Rosedeans—their matriarch wasn't even five hundred years old. Diana bit her lip. She knew everyone else. Everyone who mattered.

"Who are you?"

He stared at her, daring her to remember. Annoyed at herself for coming up blank, and at him for not making things easy, she shrugged. "Fine. You want to carry my stuff? Be my guest."

She spun on her heel and strutted out of his space, crossing the open gates of the hill. Alexius laughed, until she shot him a nasty look.

As she strode uphill, her eyes traveled upward, to the summit, and the dark house resting on it. Skyhall. The ultimate seat of power of Night Hill. The Eirikrson house.

Back when she lived here, the house had been a constant buzz of activity, between the training of slayers, of Eirikrson children, and the lavish parties they’d thrown to celebrate their victories. To celebrate their absolute dominion.

She hadn't thought of them as tyrants back then. Not truly. The Eirikrsons had felt like a necessity, because vampirekind had recognized no authority. Many took humans for pets, murdered without a thought as to the lives, the families they were destroying. They'd needed something to fear, something to keep them in line. Things had changed since. Things were good. Now that vampires and the rest of the paranormals were out of the shadows, there were authorities in place to ensure they stayed in line. The huntsmen were more numerous and had adequate resources. While still comparatively weak, humans weren't the simple prey they'd been before. They had weapons that could help even in the field. Hell, even a camera on a phone was a deterrent, as no vampire wanted to risk being seen crossing a line and hunted down by their own kind and the huntsmen. The Eirikrsons were a bygone relic from a world drenched in blood, and should have stayed buried.

She remembered the last time she'd seen the Eirikrsons.

After Alexius had lost it, hunting down whatever he could sink his teeth into, they were about to go find him and kill him. Diana had waited until her mother was napping to get out and run to Skyhall when she'd heard. She'd walked into the intimidating, dark great hall, to face the monsters her parents had told her about. "Be good after you turn, Diana, or the Eirikrsons will destroy you." Shivering like a leaf, she'd gone anyway.

"Well, if it isn't our little songbird," the great warrior lady who led the Eirikrsons had teased her at the entry hall. "Come in. Let's get you out of the cold."

She'd shaken her head. "I'm not here for pleasantries." Her voice had held more strength than she'd felt. "I'm here because of my brother. You can't kill him. You can't. Kill me instead."

Liz Eirikrson laughed. "Why would I do that? You're not a murderer. Yet."

"I am," she started. "I was from the moment I was born. And it's my fault Alexius turned out bad. I'll pay for it."

The woman had watched her with her bright, calculating blue eyes. "You're strong, child. And loving, too, which is rarer in your house. But all your love and strength can't save the boy. Only his can."

She'd been dismissed, sent down to her house with a blanket, escorted by guards who made sure she was safe.