It dawned on me that when Jules said, “Him,” she must have meant the proprietor of Oubliette, Damien. That realization did not, however, help me understand what was happening. I couldn’t process the politics and protocols playing out while Rowan bled on the pavement. But I did understand power, and the power dynamics had just shifted completely. Despite Natalia being of the Wallachia family—and despite thatapparently being a big deal—she seemed beside herself at the thought of angering some nightclub owner.
Then Natalia disappeared.
At least, that’s what it looked like. In truth, she moved faster than my eyes could follow. One moment she was standing still looking at me and Jules, then the next she had One-Eye by the throat, lifted off the ground as if he weighed nothing. His feet kicked uselessly in the air. One of his arms hung limp and broken at his side. Fear weighed heavily within the alleyway, coating the twins in a sheen of sweat that mirrored the droplets of rain. Even from a distance, I saw his eyes wide and his chest heaving in gulping gasps of air.
I think I’m about to find out if vampyres can piss themselves.
“You fed on a patron of Oubliette?” Each word was precisely enunciated and as cold as a winter wind. “On aguestno less? You broke ourpeacewith the Second Circle?”
One-Eye tried to speak but only managed a gurgle. One of his hands clawed at her grip, drawing no blood despite his inhuman strength.
“Mistress, please!” The other twin begged for his brother’s life on his knees in the filthy water.
Natalia wrapped her free hand in One-Eye’s long black hair, gathering it like reins. Then sheswung him. His body became a weapon, a living flail that slammed into his brother with a wet thud.
“Holy shit,” I muttered, caught between fear and amazement as Jules remained stoic. It was as if she were immune to the violent display of power.
Meanwhile, Natalia shouted while she swung repeatedly. “You.” Thud. “Fed.” Thud. “On.” Thud. “A guest.” Thud. “Of his?” Each word was punctuated by swinging one brother into the other.
One-Eye sobbed, begging between impacts, his broken arm flopping uselessly. The one on the ground being beaten tried to crawl away, but Natalia followed, relentless, using one twin to bludgeon the other.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. The casual violence of it, the way she wielded an entire person like a weapon, triggered every trauma response from my previous life. I craved Rowan then, his safety, his calming presence, his gifted hands tying me up.
And he’s dying while this is happening.
The twins were both sobbing now, inhuman creatures reduced to weeping children, pleading in languages I didn’t recognize. Blood ran from split lips and broken noses, but still Natalia continued, methodical and cold despite their quivering bodies.
“Please!” The twin on the ground managed between hits. “Mercy! We beg your mercy!”
“Mercy?” She paused, holding the hanging twin still for a moment. His hair was wrapped so tightly around her fist that patches had torn from his scalp. “You would have me show youmercywhen you’ve potentially started a war with someone evenmy fatherwould pay obeisance to?”
She brought One-Eye down one more time, harder than before. Both twins screamed in harmony, a sound that would live in my nightmares forever. Then she dropped the one she’d been holding, letting him splash into the standing water beside his brother. They lay there gasping, sobbing, trying to crawl towards each other, but too broken to manage it.
My body wanted to run, to hide, to make myself small and unnoticeable. But Jules’s hand found mine, and she squeezed, either in warning or in comfort, to keep me anchored and still.
Natalia turned back to us, not a speck of blood on her despite what she’d just done. “The Wallachia family will pay recompense for this failure. Tell your master he may name his price.”
Jules finally straightened from her curtsy, and when she spoke, she sounded nothing like the Jules I knew. “As you command, Mistress Natalia.”
The white-haired vampyre looked at Rowan one last time, something like regret flickering across her perfect features. “A waste. He would have been. . . a formidable ally.”
She turned and walked towards the twins. They cowered before her, too injured to flee, as she reached down and grabbed fistfuls of hair: a twin in each hand. Then she walked towards a shadowed corner of the alley, dragging the kicking and screaming twins behind her like luggage.
Then she was gone.Theywere gone. As if the darkness were a doorway, she stepped into the shadows without breaking stride and vanished. Only the scent of jasmine lingered, already fading in the rain.
Jules let out a shuddering breath. “Oh, thank god she left. Quick, we need to get him inside.”
Inside. Inside where?Rowan was barely breathing anymore. The rising and falling of his chest had slowed while monsters played politics over his corpse. I dropped to my knees beside him, hands hovering over his body, afraid to touch and confirm what I already knew.
“He’s going to die,” I whispered. The words felt unreal in my mouth.
“He sure is,” Jules said, “Ifwe don’t get him inside Oubliette.” She crouched down next to me. “Come on, sweetie. We need to move him. We need to get help. We need. . .” Her voice trailed off as she looked down the length of the alley towards Oubliette.
I forced myself to tear my eyes away from Rowan to follow her gaze.
There was a man standing at the entrance to the alley. Oubliette was visible over his shoulder. He stood in a perfect circle of light from a streetlamp over his head, almost angelic.No, not an angel.Deep down, I knew. Mere men didn’t look like that. Men didn’t have features carved by some deity’s fevered dream of temptation. Men didn’t cause you to forget how to breathe simply by existing near you. Men didn’t cause the filthiest fantasies to flash through your mind while your closest and dearest friend bled out at your feet.
Desires made manifest, Jules had said, and I didn’t understand what she meant the first time I met him. But now, the words resounded within me as I watched him approach, dressed in a suit the color of crimson. His dark hair swept back from a face that was all sharp angles and dangerous beauty—features carved in warm bronze, with gilded eyes that somehow held depths of light even from a distance.
