The witches were still there, none hurt, thank god. Someone was standing in front of them. Something. Wilder than anything Bash had ever seen, stronger than anyone here. Something out of nightmares, protecting the nineteen witches.

He had no weapon in hand, no claws, his fangs weren't even out, but Bash knew this was a bloodsucker. No one had ever fit the image of a vampire more than this man.

He was tall and handsome. Too handsome. He wore a long, manly skirt—a little like a kilt, but black and flowing around his ankles. Nothing on his crafted torso. His skin was pale. His hair was dark at the roots, light after one inch. Matted.

Wildness and control. Beauty and savagery.

It hit him, then.

This was the creature of nightmares. Not Bash's, but theirs. All the intruders were living their worst fear.

This was Eirikr.

The stillness didn't last. The next instant, Eirikr's fist ran right through the first enemy's chest, and he pulled out his heart.

A cannon. He was a cannon, bashing through the entire field with the might of a force of nature, the strength of a god, and yes, beauty too. His grace made murder a dance. Bash could only watch wordless, motionless.

The corpses that hadn't yet fallen to the ground dropped, and then there was more silence.

"Shit."

The abundance of blood all around him was making Bash sick, dizzy, and too thirsty. He brought his hand to his face and pinched his nose.

"Now, now," said Eirikr pleasantly. "I've known many warrior souls. I recognize greatness. That's just a little blood. You can take it, child."

Those words were all it took. Bash found that he could take it. That the blood was irrelevant. He straightened his spine and knotted his hands behind his back, watching Eirikr as he crossed the ravine.

Not walking down and then back up like everyone else. Oh, no. Eirikr walked on air, until he was standing right in front of the witches again.

They formed a united front, no one stepping away, no one moving. Bash had to admire them. Hand in hand with Cat, Bash closed in on them, and as he got closer, Eirikr's glare chilled him to the bones. If that thing had looked at him like that, he might have pissed himself.

Eirikr laughed.

"Who?" he asked.

Just one word, but Bash felt a potent authority drip from it. He knew he would have answered—if only to say that he didn’t know, or ask for details.

The witches remained silent and immobile, keeping their circle tight. Bash's admiration for them grew tenfold. After watching him dismember and destroy an entire army like they were nothing, they dared defy him? That took some balls.

Eirikr paced in front of the group.

"Eirikr," Chloe called, breathless. "How did you—"

"Escape? I didn't; I was released. By one of your friends here."

Every word had a threatening edge.

"One of your friends who has the blood of the elders, the blood of Tatiana, running right inside her veins. Who?" he demanded again.

His hand reached out to cup Blair's face. She tried to slap it away, but he'd already let go.

"No. You're a White descendant. Powerful bloodline. Not the right bloodline, however. I am looking for a dash of fae. A little Greek. A little Roman. Some Pompeiian…and whatever else you may have acquired over the last few centuries."

Now he stopped and turned slowly, grinning.

At Greer.

He looked her up and down.

"You."

She said nothing, but her chin lifted an inch.

"My, what an exotic cocktail. I'd say you're quite as beautiful as Tatiana herself. Perhaps even more so. I see some Indian, perhaps?"

"Yes, some," she replied.

"Among other things. It matters not. No blood could have overcome the legacy of your elders. And so, you're the guardian of this hellhole. The very last, if I'm not mistaken. I wonder what would happen if I rip open your pretty throat."

"Would you kill an innocent mortal, Primerius?" Greer challenged.

Jeez, the woman had a backbone of iron.

"I suppose I could make an exception."

She didn't falter.

He didn't move to strike.

"I am still tethered," he stated.

"I won't undo the work of my forefathers. I couldn't if I wanted to."

Eirikr tilted his head. "And yet here I am."

Greer lifted her hand. Though he was standing a few feet away, Bash saw and smelled blood dripping from the gash on her arm. Someone had bitten her. Hurt her.

Eirikr laughed. "Ah. I swore to protect Aurora. And so you used my words to bind me to your welfare. Naughty little witch."

He took one step forward, and Greer launched into a chant, words in a tongue Bash didn't recognize spilling out of her mouth at high speed.

The next moment, Eirikr disappeared in a blur, a fast shadow heading right back to his cave on the hill.

The silence returned. A silence charged with relief, worry, and questions. Above all, questions.

Greer sighed before walking back to the line where their shield had been in place. Her hands went up to either side of her face, and her chanting resumed. In the same language, but slower now, more eloquent.

Blair joined her.

"Do you want to channel me? I have a little energy left."

Greer seemed surprised. She nodded. "Thanks. That'd be nice. I'm beat."

She took her left hand and lifted her other one to match Greer's stance, repeating her words and letting Greer take her strength.

Bash had taken enough classes in magic to realize that, witch or not, he could probably help too. He stepped forward, offering one hand to Greer. Cat took his, then Chloe took Cat's, and Levi took Chloe's. Before they knew it, they were all standing in a large demi-moon, offering whatever energy they had left. Even Jack and even Cat's annoying brother.

And just like that, the shields were back in place, stronger than ever.

They walked back in silence through the main street of Oldcrest. Some went to the dorm. Bash followed Cat to Night Hill.

They reached the Stormhale home, and she led them to a bedroom. The bed wasn't even made, but they both crashed on top of it, fading into oblivion.

Peace

Sebastian was beautiful. She hadn't let herself admit how much until now, but he was. His eyelashes were so very long, his face so symmetric. And his mouth. She loved his mouth.

She grinned for the longest time, feeling incredibly giddy, girly, and silly.

She could afford to. She was alive.

Cat knew just what would make her feel alive right then. She got to her hands and knees and crawled down to his boxers, freeing his morning wood and putting it in her mouth, sucking it long and hard.

Bash thrust in slow and shallow, still asleep, but soon his eyes flew open. He laughed.

"I died, didn't I? I'm in heaven."

"We're alive, I think. But heaven can always be arranged."

She was too impatient to stretch out the play, too needy and desperate to feel him. She climbed on his lap and lowered herself onto his hard cock, moaning as he entered her. Thankfully, Bash was on the same page, and began thrusting high, hard, deep, and fast. Today wasn't about slow caresses, about sweet nonsense. It was about reconnecting, putting the pieces back together after they'd almost fallen apart.

They could have lost everything. For a time, they'd both believed they might. Now, they were reclaiming it. Seizing balance, perfection, life.

A bond. A bond Cat hadn't felt, but now tugged at her, making itself known, and there was only one thing left to do. Her fangs extended painfully under her lips, and she bit down on his shoulder, swallowing the tiniest drop of blood just as he took hers right under the collarbone.

One drop was all it took for mates to claim each other. And they were one.

It was lucky that she’d stocked up. Everyone made it for tea at four o’clock. And everyone promised that they’d be there the next time Catherine held a party, and the time after that too.

Cat and Greer helped Chloe move her belongings to Skyhall.

The dark castle was filled with light inside, thanks to its great windows. And something else. This felt a little less like a statement, and more like a home. A place where some might have laughed and loved long ago.

“I guess it’s not so bad,” Chloe admitted. “Wanna help me pick a room?”

She didn’t linger in her new home.

She had somewhere else to be.

Chloe hesitated.

Even the very first time she'd made her way down to the cave, she'd been more confident. Even the very first night, she’d believed that this place meant safety to her. Now, she feared everything had changed.

But she went to Eirikr's prison nonetheless.

He was her ancestor. Her family. He called her his little daughter.

Yes, he was a thousand times more savage than anyone she knew, and yes, he'd done terrible things in his time. But that didn't have to change their relationship.

Did it?

Eirikr was seated on the floor at the end of his cave, his bright blue eyes locked on hers.

Chloe bit her lip.

"I didn't know," she said.

It made no difference, but she wanted him to realize that.

"I didn't know Greer was the descendant of the person who trapped you in this place. I had no idea she could get you out. I'll ask her. I'll ask if she'd consider freeing you, for good."

"Don't waste your breath." Eirikr's voice was darker, slower. "It will not be of use. Your witch's hands are as bound as anything can be."

Chloe wasn't sure she understood.

"Has anyone told you my story, little daughter? I wonder whether there are any alive to remember it. Other than that monster."

He meant Ariadne, she guessed, given the ire and disgust in his tone.

"Levi might know it."

Eirikr snorted. "Your mate is a child."

Chloe chuckled, though there was little humor in it. She could count on Eirikr to say things like that.

"I'll definitely repeat that. See what he says."

Eirikr had no smile for her today.