Chloe could feel Mikar stiffen. They were approaching a subject most people didn't want to talk about—to her, in any case. But Reiss and Cat, at least, hadn't received the memo. They talked without filter.

"Why are they unappreciated?" Chloe pushed.

Cat shrugged. "All the Eirikrsons are dead, save for the crazy one guarded in Oldcrest. And while their servants who are still alive do have access to Skyhall, the house atop Night Hill, they refuse to do anything with their fortune. Such a waste."

"They don't refuse to do anything," Bash protested. "I hear that their treasures are sealed under a blood lock. No one can get in their coffer, except an Eirikrson."

"Maybe," Cat muttered. "My mom thinks the Eirikrson's slayers are just saying that so they can keep everything to themselves. Who knows?"

"Did you say one of them still lives in Oldcrest? Couldn't he claim it?"

The car fell silent. Absolutely silent. Then, everyone laughed—even Jack, who'd been tense for the last hour. The one exception was Mikar, whose jaw was tight. He didn’t like the turn of conversation.

"She's a regular," said Gwen, as an explanation, or an apology; Chloe couldn't quite tell. "I didn't realize no one had told you about Oldcrest. I would have, if I'd known."

After three months, she'd mostly stopped feeling like a newbie who didn't understand sup basics. Then came moments like this.

"Thousands of years ago, the territory was shielded by one of the most powerful witches this world has ever known," Cat said. "The wards make the entire place invisible to all of those who haven't been invited, regular or sups alike, and that's in order to keep that guy locked tight. The seven families moved onto Night Hill, and it was declared that one of them would live here and stand guard every year. It's the one thing the seven have ever agreed on: that Eirikr needs to stay locked up. He was insane. Killed every vampire who wasn't part of his family. All of the other families were in hiding because of him. And he wanted to murder Ariadne, too."

Chloe blinked in surprise. The story made no sense.

"He wants to murder a goddess?"

"It's technically possible. Gods are immortal, not eternal. Cut their head, stop their heart, and they're gone, just like you or me. But it generally takes a god to kill a god. The thing is, Eirikr was almost as powerful as the gods themselves. There were rumors saying that, as we’re made of her blood, if she died, we'd all die with her. So, we decided it was safer to keep him locked up and throw away the key."

Suddenly, Chloe felt a wind around her hair, although the car was still locked up. She remembered the trail on Coscnoc, beyond the black tape. The darkening, twisted path calling to her.

"That man," she said, her throat dry. "That vampire…he's on the east hill, right?"

"Yeah, in a cave, protected by so many spells your head will spin just going anywhere near it. He's been there for a long time. Don't worry about him."

"Hey, there's a resting area right ahead. You wanna stretch your legs?" Mikar asked.

"Sure thing."

That was the end of the conversation. Next, they talked music, and then movies, followed by the difficulties of beheading someone with a thick neck. Cat seemed to warm up to the others in light of their common interests—particularly the beheading.

But Chloe's mind remained on the hill. The trail.

And the creature within.

A Portrait

They arrived in London in the middle of the night and headed to an overpriced parking garage.

They'd stopped several times, but after close to ten hours on the road with bad traffic, Chloe's every limb was stiff and uncomfortable. She stretched next to the car while the others grabbed their bags.

"So, who are you?"

Chloe looked up to find Cat standing right next to her, arms folded on her chest, eyes fixed on her.

"He doesn't talk to me or acknowledge my existence for three months, then the Leviathan tells me to follow your ass to London. And you're a regular," she added, making air quotes around the last word with her fingers. "I don't buy it."

Chloe shrugged. "Trust me, I'd love to be a cool creature—or a vampire princess like you. But I'm just…me."

"You don't feel like a regular," Cat stated.

Chloe had heard that enough times. "Thanks, I guess? But I am. The queen of NOLA's coven tested my blood. It's normal."

"What did she test?" Cat questioned.

Chloe tilted her head. "I don't know? That it was normal, or something. She thinks I probably had some witch ancestry because my blood responds to her magic a little, but that's about it."

Cat wasn't the only one paying attention. Both Mikar and Jack had walked closer. Chloe bit her lip, self-conscious.

"But," she said, "other than that, I'm normal."

Chloe could tell that Cat was skeptical. She tried not to find it irritating, and failed. Didn't the vamp princess think that Chloe would have liked to be one of them?

"Hey, Cheetah, is that your bag?"

Bash pulled her backpack out of the boot. Chloe smiled as she took it from him, knowing he'd just given her a way out of the conversation.

"Thanks."

"Any time, girl."

Those huntsmen really were a nice bunch. Even if they had decimated Cat's ancestors.

"All right, listen up,” Jack said. "Outside, we're not supposed to draw attention to ourselves. Fourteen people stand out. We'll walk in groups of three to four at all times. I, Tris, Bash, and Reiss know all of the London safe houses, so make sure you're always close to one of us. Writing the address anywhere isn't an option. No weapons in the street if we can avoid it—the last thing we need is bad press." He marked a pause. "We have a target on our backs at all times. Most sups can't stand us because they know if they step out of line, we're the ones who'll come calling. They can feel us, smell us, and they might cause trouble. We have two witches and one regular with us." He now gestured to Gwen, Blair, and Chloe. "No trouble permitted on this trip, got it?"

The huntsmen nodded their agreement before setting out into the cool air.

It was warmer than it had been in January, according to the temperature displayed on her phone, but a cold sixty-mile-per-hour wind negated that, chilling her to the bone although she was wearing her coat. Chloe wished she had gloves, a scarf, thermals under her jeans, earmuffs, a hat, and…

She stopped at the sight of a perfectly manicured hand outstretched in front of her.

Cat was handing her what looked like expensive leather gloves.

Chloe looked up to the stunning creature. Cat shrugged. "I don't get cold," she said. Realizing it wasn't much of an explanation, she added, "Your clacking teeth are irritating."

She gratefully took the gloves. They were lined with wool.

"Oh, Cat, they're wonderful."

The vampire was already storming forward, ten paces away.

Social, she was not. But Cat was obviously very thoughtful.

"Don't trust her."

Chloe turned, finding Mikar right behind her.

"Why?"

He was glaring at the woman.

"She's a Stormhale, for one. Your friend wasn't wrong. They're known to be unstable. They were a clan of powerful witches before they were turned by Ariadne. That's too much strength in one family. The vamp folks out in the world don't quite understand—they see the seven as their betters, their nobility. No one gets that there's a clear hierarchy. For a long time, our kind deferred to the seven in one specific order—Eirikrsons, De Villiers, Drakes, Stormhales, then the rest, quibbling over the base of the pyramid. The De Villiers are spread throughout the world. The Drakes are low in numbers, relying on their own strength. It was the Stormhales who started the coup that dethroned the Eirikrsons. Now she turns up, trying to get her claws in Levi…it's not good news. She may obey Levi's orders for now, but she only answers to the head of her family."

Chloe's head was going to spin. She looked down at her hands. The gloves had been cold inside a moment ago, but now they were starting to warm up.

"It sounds like vampire problems. Vampire politics. If she's nice to me, I'll be nice back."

She was generally cool with everyone, whether or not they proved to be kind first.

"It is your problem," Mikar retorted. "Levi has ordered her to watch you. She's already questioned why. If Catherine thinks you're Levi's plaything, and that having you is the reason why he isn't interested in her—well." Mikar looked up to the city sky. Barely any stars were visible here; the lights of London clouded them. "It looks like a storm is coming. And accidents happen. A bolt of lightning conveniently hitting a tree right next to you…"

Chloe glared at Mikar. "You know, I have a very low tolerance for bullshit. Since the beginning of time, men have encouraged women to mistrust each other, see each other as rivals. Guess what? If she wants that control freak, she can have him. I'm certainly not calling dibs."

Mikar laughed. "All right. Just be careful."

Chloe decided to ignore every single thing she just heard. Her hands were warm. That was the only fact worth remembering.

They turned off Oxford Circus, and then turned again a few times into identical white square rows of houses that made Chloe understand why Jack had warned them to stay with those who knew the way. She noted a Victoria's Secret, Louis Vuitton, and a charming little park. At least if she got lost, she could return to the general area.

Her group, led by Bash, arrived in front of a house so very similar to Rose's Coven that Chloe's heart skipped a beat.

But there was no body, no smell of blood. As Bash walked up the steps to the door, Jack opened it from the inside.

"Come on in. I've made tea."

Chloe practically ran up the stairs.

She’d never liked coffee. Tea was better, although she still didn't quite get why the Brits were so obsessed with it. But right now, she would have drunk just about anything, provided it was served warm.