Nikola growled in frustration.

  I am a fucking god! I shouldn’t have to hide anymore! This voice shouldn’t have to hide!

  But he knew that patience would pay off in the end, it always did. He stalked through Seattle, draining unlucky souls before they could blink. The city was his feast, its people too slow to even glimpse him.

  Soon, soon I will raise up an army. But first I need a facility to hold them all.

  He googled ‘warehouses for rent’, just to see what came up. Shockingly, several large spaces were available to be rented immediately. He smiled widely, his fangs shining in the streetlights. He could be as picky as he wanted, how lovely. He continued to scroll through the listings as he walked.

  A little boy ran past him, bumping into him in his haste. “Mrs. Nelson!” He was waving to an older woman, maybe a teacher or a neighbor. But what caught him was the name. Nelson.

  He sighed. It really was too bad that she had to die. She could’ve been my Selene if she were more amenable. Just as well she didn’t become a Selene. I don’t need a woman coming around and mucking things up like…

  He didn’t like thinking about his mother. If she had stayed then maybe he wouldn’t have been constantly beaten. Patricide was only one of his many accomplishments, his latest having been taking that girl’s energy, just what he needed to fuel his ascension.

  Hmm, Ms. Nelson. She had been quite pretty. He hummed in appreciation at the memory. She was soft too, her skin like silk under his crushing hands.

  He would’ve liked being able to take his time with her, make her really frightened. Fear makes the blood pump faster, which means the mana too would pump quicker through the body.

  Her blood was exquisite – richer, more vibrant than most. Perhaps it was that stubborn streak that gave her mana its extra spark.

  Or perhaps he was becoming obsessed. He shook his head. But having control of her felt good. Having such obsessive control gave him a sense of superiority, as if all were his to command.

  Nick reminisced about when he found his mother a year after his turning. Her blood had tasted old. Seeing her after all that time, killing her, had not been as satisfying as he’d hoped, so he went after the family she had made. Her little girl, his teenage half-sister – her blood had tasted sweet, helped satisfy his craving.

  He clicked on a listing for a warehouse by the harbor. Perfect. He filled out an application and sent an email voicing his interest to the property management. Things were finally coming together.

  ? ?? ?

  I kept dreaming about Selene, but in a way I could tell I was dreaming and things were not real at all. Like watching Selene on a swing, the sunshine behind her illuminating her. Or dreaming of seeing Selene in common places like work or the grocery store. It was frustrating, as I wanted to go back to the terrace and see her, ask her questions.

  I felt so in the dark about everything. I didn’t even know how to figure out what Nikola’s plans were. All I knew was that he was a sick freak with too much power who needed to be taken out.

  Michael and I bumped into each other as we passed people on our way to work. I kept my head down, the snow falling very heavy and fast. I looked up to see where I was headed. My heart would’ve stopped beating if it wasn’t already still. Not ten yards in front of us was Nikola. I ducked my head, hoping he didn’t see me.

  Michael turned around at my stopping. His voice was worried. “What’s up?”

  I pointed in front of us and said, “Nikola!”

  His head whipped up, but he was already gone.

  I partly wondered if I had imagined him. I wouldn’t put it past my brain to do that to me. I shook my head, “Maybe I imagined it, sorry.”

  He gave me a worried look but said nothing. As we continued walking, we saw a man pass out, falling to the ground, the snow already starting to collect on his body. Michael rushed to the man, flipping him onto his back and listening for breathing.

  I called 911 as he began trying to wake the man up.

  “He has a pulse and he's breathing, he’s just not waking up!” He began looking for signs of trauma on the man, doubting someone could collapse out of nowhere and be fine.

  We stayed with the man until paramedics arrived to take him to the hospital. By that time there was a small crowd of spectators, and I felt very awkward being near the center of everyone’s attention like that.

  I looked up to ask one of the medics if there was anything else they needed from us. From the back of the crowd I saw Nikola, and I caught his eye. He just stared at me, no expression on his face.

  It was as if everything around me blurred but him, my ears hearing nothing. A group of people walked in front of him, blocking my view, but by the time they had passed by, he was gone. I looked around frantically, trying to figure out where he went.

  I searched for Michael, grabbing him by the arm when I found him.

  “Michael! I saw Nikola.”

  He immediately broke his attention away from the medic and they left – I assume after getting everything they needed – leaving the two of us to speak alone.

  If my heart had been beating I’d be worrying about a heart attack by now with how stressed I was. “He saw me,” I breathed.

  Michael paled. “Are you sure?”

  I nodded, trembling. “Surprise is gone.” My heart sank with the realization.

  Michael tried his best not to look sick, but he said, “Let’s get to the office first. We’re already going to be late. And I’d rather speak in private.”

  We got to the office in short order, luckily, riding the elevator, which we happened to catch by ourselves.

  The thought of the face that haunted my nightmares for weeks and weeks made bile rise in my throat. I swallowed it back, hating the bitter acidity I tasted.

  I am not going to puke in this elevator in front of Michael.

  “He was probably shocked to see you alive.” Michael ran a hand through his hair, heaving a sigh. He was unaware of the nausea I was fighting right in front of him. “There’s nothing we can do about it right now. I’ll text Antun when I get to the desk and we’ll go to his place tonight to talk about it.”

  Michael got off on his floor and I continued on to mine. But by myself in the elevator…. The walls were closing in, the ceiling pressing down. The walls started to look wavy, like that awful foam in the white room. My eyes darted around. My ears thundered as if I still had a heartbeat.

  When the doors opened I leapt out, not able to get out fast enough, taking big, gulping breaths. Mora saw me and asked with concern, “Is everything alright, Drew?”

  “Yeah!” I stood up and brushed my pants. “Just really didn’t want to be late is all.” I tried to give a smile but it came out strained.

  Mora nodded, her face screwed into a look of puzzlement, but she walked away regardless.

  I went to my desk, setting up everything by mere force of habit. My brain was entirely elsewhere.

  He saw me!

  I felt exposed, like a bug under a microscope. I couldn’t help but keep looking around, my paranoia heightened.

  Lunch finally came and I rode down to my old floor, glad I wasn’t alone this time, and began looking for Michael. “Drew!”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  I jumped. Trevor had spotted me before I could look toward the desk. “Trevor, don’t. Do. That!”

  He ignored my tone, continuing as if we were old buddies. “Long time, no see! How’s Mora treating you?”

  You know what, Trevor? Whatever, I don’t have energy for you.

  “Have you seen Michael?”

  “I think I saw him head for the break ro–”

  Before Trevor had finished I was speed-walking past him toward the break room. I opened the door, seeing Michael with a coffee pot in hand. “Lunch?” I asked, winded, my eyes a little crazier than I intended.

  He set down the pot, rushing over to me. “Are you alright?”

  I shrugged, my eyes still a little too wide, “I might be after lunch. I’m hoping food and talking will help my brain with all of this… this awful development.”

  He nodded, understanding the need to talk.

  We rode down to the main floor and out the doors, facing the weather once more. I had been hoping to talk with Michael over lunch, but that idea was squashed. We had picked someplace close to our building, and it appeared that most of our coworkers had the same idea. But neither of us wanted to walk any further for food, so we stayed. We picked a small back corner table to sit at, hoping for at least a little privacy.

  I took a drink of my soda and asked, “Were you able to get anything done as far as work?”

  Michael picked up his wrap, “Not much, to be entirely honest. Nikola is on my brain.”

  “Same. I’m so unnerved by the entire thing and I don’t know what to do about it. What do you think we should do?” I took a bite, grimacing as I chewed because of my mood. Salad is not comfort food.

  I should’ve gone for the soup.

  “Besides loop in Antun and Syla? I’m not too sure. Hopefully the sword will be finished soon.” He thought for a moment. “Do you know how to use a sword?”

  “Do I strike you as a sword expert?” I deadpanned, raising a brow.

  He shot back an angry look. “Don’t be pissy just because you’re scared. I am too.”

  Hearing him admit he was scared brought me up short. I sunk a little in my seat, guilty over my actions. “I’m sorry.” I meant it, and he nodded his acceptance. We continued eating in silence, both of us wondering what the next steps needed to be.

  ? ?? ?

  The second half of the work day was long. I tried getting my work done, but I sent back quite a lot less than I usually did in a day. I waited for Michael on the main floor after I had closed up my workspace.

  He spotted me and gave a nod.

  I went over to him and we walked out together. It had stopped snowing but it had become thick on the ground. The streets were full of grey slush, and crossings felt a bit perilous for how slick the ground was. Up the street, a left, then a right, then across the street.

  We got home and quickly changed, wanting to head straight to Antun’s. Even if he wasn’t at home, Syla would be. We knocked on the black door as we arrived. Syla opened it, smiling, “Hi! I didn’t know you were coming today.” Then she noticed the looks on our faces. Her brows creased in worry and her hand lifted to nervously fiddle with the necklace she wore.

  I rushed into it. “A bit of an emergency. Long story short, I saw Nikola and he saw me.” I swallowed, my own brows knit together.

  Syla’s face paled and she grabbed my arms. “Are you alright?”

  I knew she meant more than physically. I shook my head, and my body began to tremble.

  No, no I will not cry, dammit!

  Syla pulled me into her arms. “You’re safe right now. You’re with us.”

  The tears threatened to overflow.

  She squeezed. “It’s alright, you can cry here.”

  As if I had only needed permission, I let my emotions go. I nearly sank to the ground, but Syla held me, picking me up and carrying me inside after my legs had given out. I was so grateful for her, for all of them, and the tears kept coming.

  All of my emotions that had been bottled up seemed to be trying to come out: fear of Nikola, anger at Nikola, loneliness that had plagued me for years, disappointment about so many different things, happiness at finally having friends who love and care about me. All of the feelings, negative or not, came out in a rush. I cried, then wailed, my body wracking with sobs. I began to hiccup as the tears kept coming.

  I was hardly aware of Michael speaking gently or of Syla’s gentle shushing.

  We sat down. I had been curled into the fetal position as I wept.

  Michael sat down next to us, a silent but steadying presence.

  Syla held me through it all.

  When at last I was spent, my hands sat limp in my lap and my head rested against Syla’s shoulder. Eventually I was just a hiccupping, snotty mess.

  Michael passed me a box of tissues. He had even brought over a cute little garbage can for the used ones.

  I thanked him with a weak smile.

  Syla rose. “I’ll make some tea.” She left us alone.

  “Are you okay?” He spoke into my hair.

  I choked out a laugh, “No.”

  He huffed a small chuckle as well. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to deal, huh.”

  “Not much of a choice.” I sniffled and wiped my nose. I knew I must have looked an absolute mess, but Michael only looked at me with loving concern, his eyes looking into mine. His hand brushed over my hair, and he tucked a stray strand behind my ear. The touch of his finger on my skin was ticklish and it made me duck my head. He lifted my chin, a look of indecision on his face.

  I gazed back at him, “What are you thinking about?”

  “You,” he said with an absoluteness that made me go still. “I’m thinking about you. All the time. I want you to be happy, and I don’t know how to make that happen. All of this shit with Nikola… I promised I wouldn't let anything happen to you. It's unfair that it happened to you at all, but here we are.” He sighed and looked away, a hand rubbing his tired face. He looked out, as if he could find the answer out in the ether if he looked hard enough.

  I put a hand on his cheek. He looked at me, surprised by the contact. “You make me happy.” His eyes softened and he looked at my lips, licking his. His eyes met mine again and–

  Syla came in with a tea tray, ready to serve her guests the way she was taught so very long ago as a young lady in England. I drew my hand back quickly, extremely self-conscious.

  “I thought chamomile and lavender would be relaxing. There’s honey, sugar, and cream. Would you like me to prepare it for you?”

  I nodded, the fancy tea set making it feel as if I were visiting nobility. I didn’t know what to do, so I just sat there as she poured the tea. She prepared one with cream and sugar and passed it to me.

  I held the mug in both of my hands, the warmth spreading through my cold fingers.

  We all sat and sipped, no one spoke.

  I spoke up finally when I had nearly finished my cup. “Where’s Antun?”

  Syla straightened, her eyes bright. She set down her tea, “He’s with his woodworking friend, they decided to work on the sword some more today.”

  “They?” Michael asked.

  “Today?” was my question.

  “Antun’s not making it or anything,” she clarified, “He just wanted to see the process.”

  We heard the sound of a door opening and closing, and a few moments later, Antun appeared with a long, wrapped item in his hands.

  “Oh, you’re all already here. Excellent!”

  He set his parcel on the table in front of us before taking off his coat. I stared at the wrapped object, hoping it was what I thought it was. Antun saw that we had tea out and made a mug for himself, humming in appreciation at the flavor. He looked up, noticing my puffy eyes and my red nose. His brows came together as he asked, “Are you alright, Drew?”

  I nodded, “I’m fine now.”

  “Uh, Antun?” Michael got his attention. “When are you going to show us what you brought back?” He nodded toward the wrappings on the table.

  “Oh!” Antun exclaimed as if he had actually forgotten for a moment. He set down his mug and picked the parcel up, beginning to unwrap it. “Prepare to be impressed,” Antun said with a wink.

  He pulled out a short sword, about two feet long, made entirely of yew wood. The handle had grooves carved into it for grip, and nearer to the guard the blade widened, making a stronger base for the blade. Antun held out the sword, handle end, to me.

  I grabbed it with a shaking hand, my nerves completely frayed by now. I held it up, admiring the orange-brown lines and burgundy streak down the middle. It was exquisite. I looked at the edge, wondering how sharp they were able to make it.

  “We should get a scabbard for it,” someone said. I didn’t care. I was too transfixed on the sword to notice Antun take out a wood dagger as well. It was straight and short, maybe six inches of blade, also made from yew, the golden honey and various browns making beautiful swirls all over the piece.

  I finally looked at Antun and the others as I let the sword fall to hang by my side.

  Syla passed me the dagger. It was double edged, almost like a mini sword. It was an impressive piece, but it had nothing on that gorgeous sword.

  We passed the weapons around in reverent silence, each of us visibly impressed.

  “I really hate to do this, but we have to talk about Nikola.” I wanted to get down to business. “He saw me earlier, locked eyes with me, and disappeared. What do we do now?”

  Antun scratched the back of his head and shrugged, “We don’t even have a real plan yet. We have the weapons – oh, including these babies!” He dug through the wrapping and grabbed a small ball. “This is a prototype of a sawdust bomb we could try to use. But, it’s toxic to everyone, not just him, so this would be, like, very last resort.”

  We carefully passed the bomb around, looking at it. It almost looked like a lacquered bath bomb.

  “What’s this shell?” I asked him, rubbing my thumb over it.

  “Wood shavings and something like sucrose, attached together around the middle with wood glue. If we’d used wood glue as the bonding agent for the whole thing, the bombs would never break apart and they’d be useless.”

  It was a fascinating idea, if it’d work. Everything was just theory at this point. Hell, I didn’t even know the first thing about wielding a sword and that was the weapon I chose!

  “Um, Antun, do you happen to know any swordsmen who could teach me, teach us,” I corrected, “About how to use these things so they don’t end up killing us instead?”

  He gave me a blank look, blinking. “You know what, I hadn’t even thought about people not knowing how to wield a sword. I learned some time ago but I’m due for a refresher anyway. Let me see who I can find.”

  “So you don’t have a sword guy?” Michael asked, grinning with sarcasm.

  “Believe it or not, I do not have a ‘guy’ for everything. Nearly,” he winked at me, “But not quite. But I do know how to find us the best teachers at the fastest availability.”

  “You said ‘refresher’. Do you already know how to use a sword?” Syla inquired.

  “Learned back in the 1700s when the British were occupying the Caribbean islands. Knew some pirates back then, some soldiers too, and we’d spar from time to time and they’d teach me when there was time for it. Today was the first time I’ve held a sword in centuries, so like I said, I’m probably going to need a refresher course.”

  I made an impressed face. What hadn’t Antun tried by now? 500 years was a long time to try stuff out, after all.

  “Ah ha, I think I’ve got it. This one has over twenty years of experience teaching the art of the sword and even consulted on some famous movies for their fight scenes. What do you guys think?”

  “Uh, they sound freaking amazing but how are you going to get someone like that to teach us? Are they even in the area?” I was getting concerned about this plan already.

  Antun waved his hand, “Ah, details. Don’t worry, Love, I’ve got everything well in hand.” He sure seemed confident. I really hoped this wouldn’t come to bite us in the ass.

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