Eirikr looked like her brother Tom. He even had the same hair as the rest of her family—dark at the roots and then unnaturally light an inch later.

No one would have doubted that they were family. A family of crazy, beautiful creatures that didn't belong to this world.

"Better, don't you think?"

She had no words.

Eirikr brought his wrist to his lip and bit down, drawing blood. At least she thought it was blood. But it was black—dark as night.

She looked up to his eyes as he reached out, close to her mouth.

Nothing had ever smelled as appetizing. Not even candy. She wanted that blood like she wanted her next breath.

But there was something else she wanted more.

"I can't…"

She closed her eyes, the smell of his blood making her feel dizzy, mindless. Uncontrollable.

"I can't be a monster," she finished.

She couldn't become her father. Or end up locked in a cage like Eirikr because everyone was afraid of her. Better for her to leave this world now, when everyone could recall her with fondness, than to linger as a thing from their nightmares.

Eirikr tilted his head.

"Then who will? I have no way out of here, and your brother is no leader. Who will stand when the world needs justice?”

She shook her head, too weak to argue. Plenty of other people were more suited to the task. Tris, Jack, and the rest of the huntsmen. Levi, who could move like lightning and command the likes of Cat and Mikar. Anyone.

“Chloe, you were born to lead our house into the light. Because you have compassion, heart, and strength. Without you, our kind will rise again. There will be another Age of Blood, and none to stop our rule. The six clans will systematically destroy all threats—the witches, the huntsmen, anyone with a good heart, while they're scattered. You will unite them. You can rule all."

She snorted. That certainly was another level of flattery.

"Right."

Just one word, but it dripped with the perfect amount of sarcasm.

This time, Eirikr's smile was devastatingly beautiful.

"Prove me wrong, then. Unless you're a coward. Which would be unseemly. My house has never fathered any spineless wenches."

Anger. He was trying to provoke her, and it was working, awakening her mind a bit.

She was no coward. She was just…

Tired. So very tired.

"As we debate, one of your friends is dying. There is no stopping it, but how many will follow? Another one has been bitten by a feral. Will you wallow in self-pity at my feet when the blood in our veins is the only cure?"

Her eyes widened.

"Who…where—" As difficult as it was, she closed her mouth to swallow some saliva before forcing out a complete sentence. “I thought there was no cure?”

Levi had said a feral’s bite was contagious and impossible to reverse.

“There wasn’t. Not with me stuck in here and your mortal blood still running through your veins.”

She was confused, and to her relief, Eirikr didn’t wait for her to ask questions before explaining, “I do not drink human blood. From the very beginning, my everything recoiled against it, and for a time, I drained whatever game I could hunt in the woods—bears, deer, even rats. But as Ariadne’s sickness spread through the lands, I found another food source.” His lip curled over his teeth. He had two elongated canines on each side.

Then she understood. He drank vampire blood, not human blood.

And he wasn’t crazy.

“My house has evolved to survive on vampire blood without giving in to the frenzy that renders the ferals mindless. Those two thousand years of evolution course through your veins. A few drops of your blood would be enough to reverse the process.”

Then Eirikr extended his arm again. His dark blood still marred his skin, but the wound he’d inflicted on himself had long been healed.

"Drink, little daughter. Drink and rise. For their sake, if not yours."

She wrapped her fingers around his forearm. Her eyes focused on the veins. The blood moved faster at each of Eirikr’s slow heartbeats.

She felt a strange numbing pain around her gums and tasted iron in her mouth. Her blood. Sweeter than she remembered. Unfamiliar.

Chloe opened her mouth wide to accommodate her new fangs, then closed it around her ancestor’s wrist, trying to aim for the veins.

And then she drank.

And drank, and drank again.

She’d never been one to get drunk, because no cocktail had ever been so succulent, heady, addictive. She moaned in delight, holding on to Eirikr’s arm with her second hand.

He laughed.

“Try not to drain me, will you? It has been long since I’ve enjoyed the benefits of having a decent amount of blood in my system.”

Oh. Right.

Chloe let go of his arm. Right. She was drinking from a person, not a martini glass with a little umbrella.

“Sorry?”

He shrugged off her apology.

“How do you feel?”

She paused, having failed to notice any difference, but now that he pointed it out, she was…good.

Great.

The very notion of having been exhausted, spent, and ready to give up moments ago confused her.

She got to her feet, wondering why she’d been on her knees at all.

How did she feel?

Restless. Unfocused. Chaotic.

But above all…

“Angry,” she replied.

Eirikr grinned.

“Good.”

Newborn

Whoever was behind the attack had been smart, Levi had to give them that. Sending their feral dogs first had ensured that the huntsmen and knights alike were occupied, and then their foot soldiers had been scattered throughout the unmanned territory.

Levi and the huntsman at his back made short work of the group they’d encountered before sending Chloe on her way, then headed downhill to aid the others.

It wasn’t pretty.

Levi hadn’t dealt with huntsmen for an age, but he had to admit that they could certainly be useful. Not all of them were Jack Hunter, however. They were losing ground.

Another hundred ferals had surrounded three of them, two young men and a woman who was quite gifted with her many knives. Her, he knew of. They weren’t acquainted, but there was only a handful of born vampires at any given time, and Levi made a point to remember their faces. Tris. Adrian’s daughter. He positioned himself as her six, guarding her back as they fought through that lot.

Once they were dealt with, Levi said, “I hear three other groups—two south, one east. Let’s split.”

Jack went south with the boys while Tris headed east with him.

She froze as they arrived, screaming, “Bash!”

The warning came too late. A feral behind the huntsman plunged its eight sharp fangs into his shoulder. From where he stood, Levi could smell the blood; it had broken the skin, which meant the man was already lost.

Most would have fallen and screamed in agony, but Bash was strong. Not only did he remain on his feet, he also kept fighting, swinging his ax at any threat around him.

Levi held Tris’s arm as she rushed toward her friend. She glared at him, but he just shook his head.

“There’s nothing to do now. If you get close…”

“Touch me again, you lose that arm,” the woman growled.

She would make a devastating immortal when she changed.

If she didn’t turn feral first.

“If you want to help your friend, let’s clear the beasts,” Levi told her.

She seemed to agree.

The woman launched herself at them with a battle cry. Levi was no less brutal. He hated losing lives, even those he didn’t know. Hence why he remained on his hill, in his tower, behind a red door. Out here, people died, or worse.

One head ripped off. A knife through a heart. A kick so hard it cracked a skull. One after the next, they fell, until there was silence.

Levi turned to the huntsman. Bash.

He’d given up standing and was now panting hard.

His friends were approaching.

“Stay away,” Bash said before Levi could caution them against getting too close. “I feel…”

Levi knew how he felt.

He took one step. Right away, four weapons were unsheathed as the huntsmen focused on him.

They knew what his kind did to those who were turned when they wished to be kind. Give them a quick death.

He held his hands up in the air.

“I won’t hurt him. I can make him sleep, however. He won’t feel pain through the change.”

“Is that a euphemism for death? Try, bloodsucker. We’ll see who’ll go to sleep.”

They certainly didn’t lack guts.

“Children, quiet. I don’t intend to dispense with a perfectly good test subject.”

Cold, but true. And hopefully, it would get the point across.

“I keep ferals for observation while I work on a cure. If we take him to my lab…”

“Is there one?” Tris asked, her voice breaking. “A cure?”

Levi shook his head. “Not yet.”

He wished he could give a different answer, but he wasn’t one to lie.

“I want to go. In the lab. I want to go,” Bash said, proving to be the wisest of the five.

Levi walked forward again, pulling one of Alexius’s potions out of his jacket, glad he’d taken to keeping the sleeping draught with him.

“Drink this.”

The huntsman obeyed, and faded almost right away.

Now that this immediate potential threat was dealt with, Levi listened to his surroundings. No more large groups, but he heard and felt plenty of intruders.

He pulled keys out of his pocket and threw them at the fledgling.

“You should be able to slip out now, if you take the ravine west. Head to Night Hill, last house before Skyhall. When you go in, there’s a study to the right. You’ll find suitable restraints in the chest of drawers. Do not leave him without chains.”

The girl nodded. He hoped she obeyed. Students turning feral en masse was the last thing he needed right now.

One huntsman carried each of Bash’s arms, a third walked in front, and the fourth closed the circle as they walked away. Levi started to hunt.