And of course, the group of cold, deathless creatures standing in front of us like an honor guard, faces grave with anything but warm greeting.
I search the face of each of them methodically. Granted, the one I met so long ago was covered in blood—drenched in it, really—but I have an excellent scent memory. Better than excellent. And I don’t think he’s here among these twenty identical faces.
These all smell wrong in the same way—like preserved corpses, cold meat that somehow still moves.
“Hi, I’m Phoenix,” says the woman who rode in on the motorcycle, stepping up boldly and holding out a hand to Abaddon. A welcoming smile lights her face as if she’s not standing in front of a host of vampires. As if this is all perfectly normal.
I frown and tilt my head, studying her more carefully.
This one’s scent is quite different. Like nothing I’ve ever encountered before, and I’ve traveled everywhere there is to travel on this small globe over thousands of years. She certainly doesn’t smell undead—no cold preservation, no absence of life.
She smells like... magic? But different magic. Warmer. Living.
My eyes flick to Layden, whose gaze bounces nervously back and forth between her and the men behind her. We wasted valuable time on the plane. We should have been grilling little brother more thoroughly about the dynamics of the tenuous situation we were walking into.
What the hell has he gotten us into?
Abaddon introduces himself and his little family—Hannah and Raven—then gestures to the rest of us. We all nod curtly when he says our names. Professional. Controlled.
The man Layden first approached steps forward—Phoenix’s Grandpa Vlad, apparently.
“Layden never told us of his extensive family when he last visited us,” Vlad says, his voice smooth and cultured. Eastern European accent, though softened by centuries.
The man is tall by human standards—six feet at least, maybe six-two. He has perfectly smooth skin, pale as moonlight, not a single line or blemish. Dark hair slicked back from a widow’s peak. Sharp cheekbones that could cut glass. He watches everyone with his dark eyes—so dark they’re nearly black, pupils barely distinguishable from iris.
Ancient eyes. I recognize that look. I’ve seen it in mirrors.
“I would think one such as you would understand the need to be... circumspect in matters of family,” Abaddon responds carefully.
Vlad’s eyebrow lifts ever so slightly—the first real expression I’ve seen from any of them. “One such as me. And what might one such as you be called?”
“I’ve already told you my name is Abaddon.”
“I was not referring to your name.”
I know my brother well enough to sense the danger crackling beneath his smile when he responds, “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean—” Vlad bends forward at the waist, inhaling deeply through his nose, “—that I can smell the power emanating off of you.” His nostrils flare. “But you are not witches, nor dybbuks, nor any other wielder of magic I’ve ever encountered before. And I have encountered many in my long years.”
“Yet my brother spent time amongst you,” Abaddon counters.
“We thought he was an anomaly. A singular oddity.” Vlad’s eyes narrow slightly. “It seems we were mistaken.”
Abaddon shrugs, the gesture casual despite the tension. “Everyone comes from somewhere.”
“You dance around my question.”
“I was informed my family and I might have sanctuary here.” Abaddon’s voice and stance become harder—shoulders back, chin up. Authority radiating from him despite the glamour. “Is that the truth, or should we leave now?”
The air goes taut as a bowstring. Several of the identical vampire sons shift slightly—the first movement I’ve seen from them.
“Of course we’ll provide sanctuary,” Phoenix says, butting into the conversation with surprising boldness.
Her grandfather shoots her a look that would shrivel the soul of most beings—cold and sharp as an icicle through the eye.
Phoenix ignores it completely. Fascinating.
Even more fascinating, her grandfather allows the interruption. He seems like the beheading-first-ask-questions-later type rather than the benevolent kind. Yet he lets her speak.
