In this district, families are wedged into insulae, with up to fifty people housed in the apartments—some of them stretching seven stories high. A ground-floor apartment is a luxury, and one I’ve never taken for granted. Thanks to my mother’s father, we were able to grow up without the threat of eviction.
The familiar silhouette of our home appears among the haphazard structures of our street. Tucked between two taller insulae, the facade is a blend of weathered stone and wood, ivy clinging stubbornly to the cracks in the stone, as if nature itself is trying to hold the building together.
Behind the dark, wooden front door, my brother waits for the tonic I don’t have.
Dread expands in my stomach. Up until this moment, the greatest risk to Ev’s life has been our poor financial situation. I’ve managed to handle that—barely—by taking as many jobs as I can. But without the tonic …
Evren is dead.
My head spins, my lungs so tight I almost miss the man leaning against the wall of my house, his body half hidden in the shadows. From the look of his elegant overcoat and polished boots, he’s not from the Thorn. The hair on the back of my neck stands up.
“Who are you?”
He smiles, flashing fang.
Vampire.
An old, powerful vampire if the chill emanating from him is any indication.
Evren’s cough rips through the night, audible even through his wooden shutters.
The vampire’s smile widens. “My name is Bran. I serve the emperor.”
My stomach clenches. While sigilmarked powers are visible and visceral, vampires command the unseen. They bend shadows to cloak their movements, create illusions that blur reality, use telekinesis tostrike without warning … their powers span from subtle, quiet manipulations to the kind of overwhelming control that makes their victims question everything they thought they knew.
I change my position, planting myself firmly between the vampire and the door. Bran can’t get in unless invited. But he could still attempt to lure my brothers out.
“And what exactly do you want, Bran?”
The vampire lifts one pale hand, revealing two glass vials of vibrant purple liquid. Every hair on my body stands on end.
Lung tonics.
It’s all I can do not to lunge at him. But my speed is nothing compared to his, my strength insignificant. And if Bran truly serves the emperor, he’s likely even more powerful than I’d first assumed.
He smiles, cheeks creasing, eyes empty. “I find I need your particular skills.”
“I have no skills. I’m an occasional bodyguard. That’s it.”
He raises an eyebrow at my flat tone. “And yet you won the Sands six years ago.”
My vision wavers and I barely refrain from reaching out to lean against the door.
Winning the Sands is dangerous. I did it anyway, because I had no choice. In the process, I announced to anyone watching that I was a trained killer. Winners’ names are public record. And killers are valuable in this empire.
The vampire has been spying on us. He knows exactly what we need, and he’s the one who has been buying the tonics. I’m sure of it.
My lips are turning numb. “You need to leave.”
Bran takes a step closer, and my head clears, my pulse steadying. I may not be able to kill him, but I can make him hurt before I die.
He goes still, slowly lifting his hands in front of him as if I’m a cornered animal. “Complete the Sundering and I’ll save your brother’s life.”
More coughing from inside the house, as if to punctuate the vampire’s offer.
“Not interested.”
“Your brother is very sick. You’re barely keeping him alive.”
