Levi was the Leviathan, dubbed ‘demon of the sea’ by those who didn’t know better. That whole myth had been born when he'd synced with a massive sea monster and sunk ships full of artifacts that witches had been planning to use against their kind.

Bash was so far from him the comparison wasn't even funny.

"By the way, if you're trying to convince me to not apply to the Institute, you're going about it the wrong way," Emilia said.

Bash's jaw tightened. He wasn't a hypocrite; telling his sister that Oldcrest was too dangerous would earn him a well-deserved kick in the teeth. If it was safe enough for him, she wouldn't hear about it being too dangerous for her. There were evil witches, at least three known major demons, and plenty of vampire dens in Brighton alone, more in London. Cities were infested with evil things, and battling them was their profession. Emilia and Paul weren’t safe. They’d never be safe anywhere.

But he'd died in Oldcrest. He'd actually died. The idea of Emilia enrolling in the Institute was chilling.

He hadn't said a thing when she'd first suggested it, but she knew him too well and could accurately interpret his silences.

"If that's what you want," he bit out, slowly.

"But you'd hate it."

"But I'd hate it," he echoed.

Emilia smiled. "Well, Paul hasn’t got his first assignment yet anyway. How about we reassess after he starts working?"

Bash tilted his head, frowning. It wasn't like his stubborn sister to relent quite so easily.

"Seriously?"

She laughed. "I may not always show it, brother, but I respect your opinion. Especially when it's valid. The last thing we need is two of us on the front line while Paul is still a minor. Right?"

Now he just felt guilty. She was holding back because of him. Dammit.

"How about you come visit?" Luke suggested. "Bash is staying in Oldcrest through the summer holidays. You could come, get a feel for the place, and spend time with your brother."

Bash was surprised. "Can they do that?"

Luke shrugged. "It can be arranged easily enough if that's what you want."

Yeah. He was a lucky bastard, really. With friends like these having his back, it would be a crime not to get his shit together.

Under the Surface

Paul and Emilia insisted they stay the night, but while Bash usually had a hard time saying no to his siblings, he remained firm on that point. No way was he sleeping in the same apartment as a couple of delicious sacks of blood. He loved them too damn much to risk it, no matter what Luke said about his improvements.

Bash knew what he felt when he sniffed anywhere near them. Pure hunger. In his old life, the only thing comparable had been the smell of bacon after a long sparring session. So fucking irresistible. But even that didn’t cover it.

They headed back north in the middle of the night. Another great thing about having a jet on standby.

They rode back through the Scottish Highlands in silence for a time, windows rolled down to enjoy the fresh air.

How sad was it that Bash felt more comfortable with Luke, a quasi-stranger, than his own brother and sister?

"I'm gonna tell you a story. Not because I want your pity but because you need to hear it. In my days, my people believed in vampires, like everyone does now. There wasn't much proof, and the big, important lords of this world called it common folklore. But my tribe? They knew."

Bash glanced at the ageless creature behind the wheel. He knew the assistant was old. Like, five centuries old, at least. Outside of Oldcrest, he would have been considered a wise, revered elder. But with the likes of Levi on the grounds, it was easy to lose perspective.

"When was that?"

"Sixteenth century, at the start of the slave trade. My mama was taken from a North African country. She was pretty, unluckily for her. I was fathered by her owner. Still, that made me no better than anyone else, just a slave."

If Luke was trying to make Bash feel like an ass for feeling sorry for himself, it was absolutely working.

"Back then, there wasn't artificial blood, see, and vamps fed where they could. Slaves were easier for them. No one really missed us. Maybe some money would exchange hands when one of us disappeared, but if some important landowner had vanished, it would have been another story. Still, people talked in the fields. Even then, there were rumors. We knew about bloodsuckers. We called them angels of death. Angels, because sometimes death could be an appealing prospect."

Bash had no response.

"A rogue came to us in the night. We didn't know what rogues were; to us, all suckers meant death. But looking at him, disheveled and covered in blood, I knew my fate. He went for my sister first—she was pretty, like Mama, see. Pretty is always more appealing, to man or beast. So I pushed her out of the way, and he got me instead. Bit deep. I knew I would be gone in moments. I suspected the rest of my family would be not long after."

Luke fell silent until Bash couldn't bear it. He had to hear the rest. "Well, what then?"

The elder laughed. "Then, another sucker appeared. Different, for sure. Impeccably dressed in ivory. He looked so damn perfect he could have passed for a king. There were more behind him, all bearing weapons. At the time, I remembered thinking it was going to be a banquet, that they'd drain the whole plantation, masters and slaves alike. I'm not sure I disliked that idea. But instead, the sucker pulled the rogue out of me and killed him. One blow and his head was rolling in the field."

Bash could picture it, imagining a mixture of Hollywood movies and any random huntsman raid.

"Levi?" he guessed.

Luke nodded once. "Levi. I was a goner by then. He made a different call, and I rose again."

Bash thought the story was finished. He was wrong.

"And the first thing I can remember is my family running away from us—from me. Screaming. They knew disrupting the masters might mean death, or at least flogging, but they screamed all the way, demanding torches. ‘Demon’. ‘Monster’. That's what they called us. Me."

Fuck. Bash felt sick to his stomach.

"This age is different. The world has known about us for close to two generations. And your own family, for a lot longer than that. Huntsmen and vampires are at peace. As long as each side behaves, anyway. I get it. New times. But what you have? Do not take it for granted. Do not waste it."

His words held an edge, a subtext that warned if Bash took his family for granted, Luke would make him pay.

Rightfully.

"So yes, they can come this summer. I'll arrange the specifics. Anytime you want to visit them, I'll be there—as long as you believe you can't keep it together around humans, anyway. You got it, boy?"

He nodded, grateful and somewhat ashamed. Two feelings he was growing exceedingly familiar with.

"What's your name?" Bash asked suddenly. "I mean, Luke is pretty modern. Is that an abbreviation, like Levi?"

"The man who fathered me named me something else, yes," he replied. "But I am Luke."

Bash made a mental note to never ask again.

Now that he'd heard of Luke's early days, Bash wondered if he'd been fair to himself. He lived around another newborn: Chloe, who'd been turned the same day as him, and took to vampire life like a fish to water. Of course, he felt like a mess next to her. But, though she hadn't known it, Chloe had been born for that life.

He doubted Luke had adapted to vampire life easily. Bash wondered how many weeks, months, or even years had passed before he’d adjusted to his changes. He opened his mouth to ask when a scent hit his nostrils, so intense and heady he felt like he could faint.

Blood.

So much blood. It hit him like a punch to the guts. Bash growled, a feral, bestial sound no man should have been able to make, as his head snapped east, his mind blank of anything, anyone, save for his next meal.

He crashed into the passenger door, which flew open under his strength, and launched into a run, hunting his prey.

He found them at the invisible border of Oldcrest. People. Students. He knew them, recognized their faces. And it didn't matter. Two were dead, bled dry, their bodies ripped open, limbs torn. One, just wounded, not quite dead, though her cuts were deep and wide. A girl, no older than Emilia.

A sack of blood he was going to drain.

The girl was attempting to crawl to safety. She'd seen something in his eyes.

She could try to get away. She should try. He liked a chase.

Bash smiled, and his tongue darted out in anticipation.

His first real meal. This was going to be so much better than the putrid blood bags he’d had to put up with. The beast that crawled at the surface had been unleashed and was entirely in control. The man—the huntsman, brother, guardian, protector—was gone.

Dead.

Then something collided with him. Hard. Something heavy and dangerous.

Bash fell to the ground, but before he'd regained his footing, the creature who'd attacked him had him pinned, one hand around his throat, nails digging into his skin.

He thrashed, growling, and the grasp tightened. Finally, the monster retreated, slowly, reluctantly, as if realizing it'd been beaten.

Now, Bash could see clearly.

The vampire holding him down was a devastatingly beautiful and familiar woman, blonde hair flying in the air. Her eyes were a torrential sky, bright silver, as if made of lightning.

Catherine Stormhale.

"Are you in control?" she asked slowly.

Was he?

After tonight, he'd never think so again.

Bash made no reply.

She let him go anyway.

"Good. We have bigger problems. If you can't handle the blood, get out of here."

Bash didn't think, didn't take the time to look at the blood, and avoided the accusing gaze of the poor victim he'd almost massacred. He just ran, and ran, and ran, until he'd reached Night Hill; then he ran faster, closing the doors of Levi's home, as if to shut the rest of the world away.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to forget what had just happened.