Seamus had been threatening to rid Chicago of every other supernatural group since they’d moved into the city after the Great Fire. Nothing would likely come of that threat said in anger.
“If you aren’t too preoccupied,” Candide called from a deeper room, “perhaps someone can find the keys so we can release thepoor unfortunates in the basement! Some of our kin are down here.”
Seamus made a motion for them to follow Candide’s request for help but continued to read through the papers. Roger wanted to kick himself for not thinking about the keys sooner, and he prayed that the hunter he’d let go didn’t have all the keys on her. The cages had silver components, and he’d rather not have to pull and break his way through them.
Dmitri found a keyring first, though Roger found an additional set on another dead hunter. The prisoners in the basement had silver burns, and some of them sported new scars. Nathaniel, a vampire descended from Roger through Ezra, had a milky-white right eye when he’d had a pair of deep blue eyes before. His left eye was unmarked, but a scar ran through the right. Somehow, the hunters had figured out how to permanently damage a vampire. That shouldn’t have been possible.
Seamus, Candide, and a few of the other better-off captives helped divide the group into the vehicles. Luckily, the dead hunters had more than enough transportation for everyone.
Roger and Dmitri stayed behind to burn the horrible place to the ground. As the flames rose and the engines roared in their departure, Dmitri slipped his hands into his pockets. His accent was thick again. “We hurt them. They hurt us. We use that as an excuse to hurt them again. When does it end?”
Roger watched the flames seeking the upper floors of the house. He thought he saw movement in one of the windows, but it had to be a trick of the light. They’d made certain everything was dead before dousing the first floor in gasoline.
This wasn’t the first house he’d burned. And he had lived long enough to see the loop that plagued Dmitri. At the center was Seamus, a volatile cyclone they had to endure night after night, decade after decade. Even if they killed every hunter, onewould learn of him through some tragedy caused by Seamus, and then they would want to take out the evil vampire that had ruined their life. A tiny seed of Roger wanted to, but he didn’t dare let that desire grow. Seamus was ancient, and Roger was nothing in the face of that.
Roger twisted the gold ring on his finger.One night, I’ll be strong enough to change my fate.“We’re immortal. In some ways, it never ends, Dmitri.”
Dmitri shook his head and strode toward one of the cars.
Roger decided he’d stay as long as he needed in order to make certain the house became a pile of rubble.
CHAPTER 1
Taliville, Tennessee, October 2021
Roger ran his fingers over the inked words on the notebook page. The paper had the unique stiffness that came from so much ink sprawled across it. The rigidity made it feel fragile, on the edge of breaking. Or perhaps that was Roger projecting his own tender state of mind onto the inanimate object. While he’d asked Zack to dig into what the Great Lakes Coven had been doing for the last thirty years, he hadn’t expected him to go further back. He hadn’t counted on reliving his past sins.
Zack had filled two pages with details about the demise of the hunter base in Indiana, though he’d labeled it as “The Farmhouse Slaughter, 1947.” The notes included information on how the hunters had tortured supernaturals, but the language was clinical and detached. He had all of the data and none of the emotion.
Roger flipped to the end of the entry. Zack had listed out those that died, but there, at the end, were ten words that would haunt Roger for weeks.Sole Survivor: Ilene Wright. Grandpa was born three months later.
Grandpa.
Though Zack’s family had disowned him, he had still been born a Wright. He’d been raised as a hunter. Roger had wondered how Zack’s family was connected to other Wrights he’d heard of. Before him lay one answer. Which man among the ones who died that night had been Zack’s great-grandfather? How many others of Zack’s ancestry had Roger killed?
If he followed that train of thought, he’d drive himself mad with guilt. At least when it came to hunters, killing them was self-defense. And even the momentary glimmer of that thought made Roger want to hang his head. But killing was part of who a vampire was. In his more than three hundred years, he’d rarely had a bout of guilt over his victims.
The guilt was easier to feel than facing the old fears clawing their way into his consciousness night by night. Thirty-two years ago, someone had cursed Roger into an enchanted sleep. To him, he’d fallen asleep in 1989 and woken in 2021 without knowing that time had passed.
Seamus wasn’t the likely originator of the curse. While he could have had someone perform the spell for him, he was never so merciful in a punishment. The last time Roger had tried to leave the coven, Seamus had tied him to a post and left him to burn in the sun for a morning. He’d nearly died, and he’d never strayed far from him since.
While he’d been taken from the coven against his will, he and his blood brother Dmitri were spreading the story that he’d chosen his departure. Vampires sometimes grew bored of existence and disappeared for years or even decades from both human and supernatural societies.
In truth, he’d woken two months ago when Zack had broken the curse on his coffin. Instead of rushing back to Seamus’s side, Roger begged the vampire master of Taliville, Nell, for the opportunity to regain his strength. Roger’s gold ring had fallenoff in 1989. He was finally strong enough to be his own master, but he’d never be free so long as Seamus lived. Nell’s idyllic town was the heart of her domain and the perfect place to recover and train for the inevitable battles he would face.
Zack would be at his side when he left for Chicago.
But where was he now?
A month and a half ago, Callum Wright, Zack’s older brother, had invaded Taliville in order to find Zack. Though he’d set his sights on killing Roger, Zack had interfered and taken a stake to the shoulder that had been meant for Roger’s heart. The blow had nearly been a lethal one.
To provide more safety for her honored guests, Nell had invited Roger and Zack to stay in her mansion for the remainder of their time in Taliville. Once Zack had recovered enough, he and Roger shared a room. The pillow beside Roger’s smelled deeply of sandalwood and a distinct mortal musk that belonged to Zack. As a vampire, Roger was almost entirely nocturnal unless circumstances demanded his attention during the day. Zack had to bridge the day and the night, often researching during the light and training during the dark.
He was also supposed to behave as Roger’s pet, and protocol demanded that he should be with Roger at sunset. Even when he couldn’t see it, twilight eased an itch in Roger’s psyche. The sun had to be going down. Zack ought to be close.
Roger closed his eyes. Lately, he had experimented with the strength of his senses and powers. He stretched his awareness past his bedroom and sought what noises he could discern in the rest of Nell’s mansion. Her home had a wide range of people, from visiting vampires to her mortal pets to her staff. As he came across a voice or a heartbeat or a footstep, he tossed it aside and searched for another. After so long with Zack, he knew the quiet tread of his steps, the gentle, steady thrum of his heart, and the melody of his voice.
“Yes?” Zack said, some distance away. Floors? Roger wasn’t entirely sure when he fell this deep into what he could hear.
