“All right, Obe. Please. Really think it over, okay?”
“I will,” Snod answered, nodding faintly.
The vampire smiled warmly with something like longing in his eyes, and then in a blink he was gone.
Freedom; the very idea was so huge and magnificent it made Snod’s head pound to even consider it.
Snod found an outlet to plug in his phone and headed right back to the couch. He tended to the worst
of his wounds and collapsed against the cushions, absolutely exhausted. He was so drained that he
didn’t even dream, only waking a few hours later when he heard his phone coming back to life and
ringing incessantly.
It was a simple ringtone, a flutter of chimes, but now that chiming sound filled his gut with dread.
It was the Order.
Specifically, Archbishop Sanguis.
Snod hurled himself off the couch to grab his phone, having just missed the call. He stared down at
the screen, seeing dozens upon dozens of calls, voicemails, and texts that had gone unanswered.
Most were from the Order, including an oddly frantic text message from Sanguis all in capital letters
demanding to know if this was the fiend he had battled against. Attached was a photograph of an oil
painting of two gentlemen, perhaps late eighteenth or early nineteenth century.
The man in the foreground was blond, strong chin, and utterly smug. The tall young man at his side
was doe-eyed, beautiful, and Snod recognized him immediately.
It was Frankie.
Snod didn’t understand the urgency of identifying the vampire he had fought, continuing to scroll
through the rest of his messages. A few were from his younger brother, and he felt a pang of guilt for
having been gone so long and not letting him know he was all right. He kept reading, realizing very
quickly the Order really did think he was dead.
It would be so easy to walk away like the vampire had suggested. New identity, new life, do
whatever he wanted, love whoever he pleased.
Guilt dropped on him like a wet towel, heavy and uncomfortable, forcing him back to the couch
because he didn’t feel well enough to stand any longer. He couldn’t do it. No matter what sweet things
the vampire had told him, he couldn’t turn his back on the sacred Order he had served all of his life.
His little brother was still there, Athaliah, the only family he had left in the whole world. He couldn’t
abandon a lifetime of training and devotion either. It didn’t matter what sinful things he wanted, even
