The doors behind me open, and I turn to see Lysander stepping through. And even more surprising—he isn’t alone. Hovering close behind is Keagan, his narrow face twisted in anger.
“You were released?” I ask him as they approach.
But Keagan replies, “I was given specific orders to bring him here.”
“By Henri?”
He nods, not seeming pleased about this new development at all. He shoots Lysander a sidelong glance. “I can’t wait until Malcolm comes and decides your fate,” he spits at him.
“Lord Henri wishes to embarrass me,” Lysander explains dryly, and rolls his eyes. “Rather childish, I must say.”
Keagan grunts. “The moment the punishment is given and the word is said, I will be the first man in line to peel the skin from your bones. I swear it.”
“I cannot wait.”
At that moment, the doors fly open again, revealing Henri and three other prominent men. Men I’d never seen before. A group of their followers flow in after them andspread throughout the room. Old power crackles around them, and I bow low, knowing exactly who these strangers must be. Henri’s special guests have arrived.
But which one of the three is Malcolm? There are only three vampires that I can see, and that means one hasn’t come yet.
The band begins to play, engulfing the room in a sweet melody. Despite the tune’s loveliness, it doesn’t ease the fierce tension filling the space. Henri, dressed in an elaborate red and gold embroidered jacket and shiny black slacks, glows with pride at the front of the group. I’m surprised to see a sheathed sword dangling from his belt.
“My friends, this is my second, Avrum Brenin,” Henri introduces me, the excitement clear in his voice. “He is the one who has prepared this lovely evening for us.”
I don’t know how, but I can sense that the oldest creature among them is on Henri’s left. The man towers over the rest of them with tangled silver and russet hair falling past his shoulders. Most of his face is covered in a thick, braided beard, and he wears a tunic and a belt around his rounded middle, with a compass, a long dagger, and a rusted telescope attached to the loops. The sharp scent of sea salt clings to him as if he spends most of his time on the water.
Is this Malcolm?
“Brenin. A strong name.” The man’s voice rumbles like thunder in a violent storm and is thick with an accent. His dark brows pinch at the middle, deepening the many creases on his tanned forehead. “They call me Gunnar, Tamer of the Seas.”
The man on Henri’s right chuckles outright. “Gunnar,stop flattering yourself.” He grins with perfectly straight teeth, and his yellow-green eyes glow, reminding me very much of a feline.
“Call me Favian,” he says, with a short dip of his head. “I don’t much care for the lord bit.”
I bow to them in greeting and then look toward the last of the three. He’s much shorter than the others and dressed in a pair of plain black trousers and a robe. Thick dark hair is slicked back from his brooding face and curls around his ears, and while I wait for him to speak like the others, he remains silent.
“This,” Favian starts, gesturing toward him, “is Sir Alessandro Guerrero. His English is minimal, so he doesn’t speak often.”
Sir Alessandro. Gunnar, Favian. But then, where is Malcolm?
I glance at Lysander, wondering if he is thinking the same thing. By the look on his face, he isn’t the least bit surprised he is the one missing.
“Malcolm will be joining us later tonight,” Henri says, as if reading our minds. “Until then we should enjoy ourselves. Keagan—”
He steps forward.
“Escort Haven down here, will you?”
He bows toward Henri, then to the guests, before leaving.
“Now, as I was saying!” Henri moves to the center of the room and stretches his arms out wide. “The night is young! Let’s enjoy!”
“Here, here!” Gunnar cries, raising his mighty fist.Together, they walk across the room to where the band is playing another merry song.
Now alone, I turn to Lysander, “Do you know of any of these men?”
“I know ofthem,” he returns. “Gunnar is the oldest of them—a true Viking, through and through. He is known from his travels mostly. Favian may be one of the richest men in Scotland, besides the king, and Alessandro was a knight before he was turned. It’s a title he is still attached to.”
“Will they be a threat to us?”
