Clearing ferals wasn’t fun. It equated to having a rat infestation. But hunting down vampires in full control of their senses was another matter altogether. Levi knew they heard him coming, felt the air cool as he closed in on them. He watched true fear in their eyes before bringing them to their knees.

Killing a vampire wasn’t easy. He couldn’t just slit throats; that sort of wound could heal. He had to cut through the spine, rip out the heart. Fire or water could have done the job, but as he had none at hand, he had his work cut out.

At first, Levi ripped his way through skeletons, ignoring the blood on his hands, but as the number of enemies thinned, he changed tactics.

Finding a group of three, he made quick work of the first two, and then wrapped his bloody hand around the third’s throat before pulling him off his feet and holding him high.

“Who sent you?”

The first four vampires he questioned could not answer. They choked on any reply, not only because he was strangling them. Something prevented them from speaking.

“True to the blood!” is what most would say.

Just those four words.

They were bound by magic, that much was obvious. Dammit. He stopped attempting to spare anyone, instead focusing on clearing his territory and, more importantly, finding Chloe.

He couldn’t sense her location, not even through the faint bond that had always existed between them.

As if she was fading. Losing energy. And no wonder.

He couldn’t focus on that now. First, he had to kill the enemy to protect Oldcrest, his home, the hundreds of students here. Then, he’d find her.

She was alive. He had to believe that. He’d find her and then hunt Tom down to get more blood for her. Or demand it from Ariadne herself if that’s what it took.

He had to…

Levi stopped in his tracks midway through striking a curly-haired blond vampire near Eirikr’s cave.

Fire.

As sure as there was water in his soul, the woman in front of him was all raging blue fire.

There was nothing sweet about her. Nothing beautiful. She was too terrifying to be called that. Bewitching, fascinating, and irresistible would work, though.

Chloe moved like a shadow, kicking the blond’s head and pushing the heel of her muddy boot into his chest.

“Who sent you?”

The man looked frantic as he struggled to break free. She pushed more of her weight forward, leaning in.

“Who?”

Her voice was so very beautiful, melodious, like honeysuckle.

“We serve the queen,” he replied weakly. “She said there was an imposter. Someone who wanted to take everything she’s worked for these past hundred years. We were told it’d be a human girl with tricks.”

The vampire looked ashamed now.

“What queen?” Levi asked.

Many bore the title. A hundred queens ruled around the world.

“The queen of all vampires,” he replied.

Levi frowned. No such thing existed.

“She will have us give in to our true nature, hunt and celebrate darkness, once all who oppose her are gone. The queen will bring back the golden age, as it was foretold.”

That explained it. Fanatics.

“A name,” Chloe demanded.

The vampire shook his head. “There is none. She is the queen.”

Well, that was certainly convenient.

Pointy Things

The terrified vampire had nothing more to tell them. Chloe drew her leg back and tilted her head.

“On your way, then.”

The curly-haired blond vampire was confused. He no doubt expected to end up like the various pieces of bodies littering the ground. And that would have been his fate had he not talked.

“If we kill everyone, who will be left to tell that queen of yours that we are not to be trifled with?”

Levi didn’t contradict her.

The vampire started to walk away, glancing back as if to ensure they weren’t changing their minds and preparing to attack from behind. Once he’d put a fair distance between them, he started to run.

Levi was looking at her strangely, half-careful, half-admiring. Chloe decided she liked it.

“I heard someone was wounded. Bitten,” she corrected.

He nodded. “Bash. How…”

How had she heard, how was she alive and healed—whatever his question, there was one answer.

“Eirikr.”

She was almost amused by his puzzlement, but there were more important matters. “Where’s Bash?”

“My place. Chloe, there’s…”

Without waiting to hear any more, she began running downhill as fast as she could.

Turned out, that was a lot faster than she would have imagined. She retreated the way she’d come, through the muddy ravine, avoiding all threats in her haste. Eirikr had told her she could save Bash, and she believed him, but if he attacked one of the others and they had to destroy him before she got there, it would be too late.

She was in front of the ridiculously large mansion in seconds, having crossed four miles down and then uphill again in under a minute.

This vampire thing was turning out to be more fun than she thought. Bonus, she’d yet to feel like skinning anyone alive.

She’d only just crossed the door when three huntsmen rushed out, weapons at hand.

They stilled before her.

“Jesus H. Christ, Cheetah.”

Yeah, they had questions. So did she.

All of them could wait.

“Where’s Bash?”

Tris gestured to the door on the right.

“It’s best if you keep your distance. Blair and Gwen are trying to slow down the change. He’s fighting them, although he’s just taken a sleeping draught that should have knocked him out. He’s restrained, but…”

She was already at the door.

Bash was lying on a ruby-red velvet sofa, his arms crossed on his chest, his upper body in chains. His eyes were shut, yet he writhed and groaned, his teeth biting the air.

Blair was holding on to his forehead, chanting. Her kindness had overwritten her caution. Gwen was no better, holding his torso so he couldn’t move too much.

“Chloe! Stay away, he’s extremely dangerous.”

Her change had been obvious to Levi and the huntsmen, but the witches didn’t seem to have caught on yet. Probably because their attention was focused on Bash.

“It’s fine. I have a cure.”

She could feel everyone freeze as she held out her wrist.

Mid-move, she realized that baring her teeth right now wasn’t the smartest move.

“Anyone have a knife?”

When Tris was in the room, the answer to that question was always yes. She threw one of her knives and Chloe caught it with no effort. She sliced her wrist, wincing at the sharp pain, and held it up right in front of Bash’s open mouth.

She had to admit, she gasped along with everyone else.

She hadn’t expected this.

Earlier today, her blood had been just as red as the sofa. She’d never thought that part of her had changed, but if it had, she expected it to become black like Eirikr’s. To her relief, it wasn’t.

The blood was amethyst. A bright shade of darker purple, as unnatural as it was fascinating. Her scattered brain couldn’t help admiring it. Then, under her arm, Bash sighed deeply and settled on the sofa. Smiling, she pulled her hand back and concentrated on her friend. His chest was rising and falling. He’d be fine.

Right?

But deep down, she knew he wouldn’t be. Not truly. She’d cured him from the feral bite, yes, but Bash had been killed and, while he lingered in darkness, given vampire blood.

When he woke, he wouldn’t be the same.

This was better than the alternative, though.

She got up and turned to the silent room.

“All right, so this calls for hot chocolate. Where’s the kitchen?”

They didn’t find the kitchen, although they stumbled upon various fascinating rooms—two torture chambers, a lab Frankenstein would have been proud of, and a hall full of weapons that Bat whistled upon seeing.

"Dude, Tris will flip her shit. Is that Damascus steel?"

Chloe, who had no clue what Damascus steel was, pouted because it definitely wasn't hot chocolate.

She had to admit, she was reassured. Comforted in the knowledge that she could still desire some fluffy cocoa with rum rather than just blood, and blood, and more blood, as she'd feared.

She had to ask Levi how the whole drinking blood thing was supposed to work.

She had to ask Levi so many questions. After she was done yelling at him for hiding all this. And snapping her neck. And everything.

"Wootz steel, actually. Faint distinction in the pattern—it's hard to tell at first glance."

Chloe turned on her heel, and there he was. Blood up to his elbow, his suit torn, but he looked so very calm one would have thought he'd just come out of a long, relaxing bath.

"I keep the interesting artifacts under key, though, if you're curious."

Bat scratched his head. "Sorry, mate. We weren't snooping, we were looking for the kitchen."

"Ah, yes. This way."

Chloe remained in the armory, forcing herself to stay put.

Her desire for hot chocolate was long gone. Right now, she didn't need to ask any questions about bloodlust. She needed to bring her teeth to his vein and plunge them in deep.

He smelled of sweat and blood. She'd never encountered such a delicious combination. And the fact that it was delicious was screwing with her head.

She saw him glance at her before exiting the armory with Bat, Gwen, and Blair. And the asshole smiled, as if he knew just what she was going through.

He probably did.

Damn him.

Chloe's mind was easier to distract now than before her change. She looked at the weapons. Every now and then, she'd take one and twirl it around. She had no clue how to use them.

Muscle memory will help. More than you know. It's a wondrous thing. One day, you’ll wake up and know all these moves. You’ll know how to block, fight, lunge faster. You’ll be able to anticipate your adversary's next move with just one hint.