In 1913, when humans were made aware of the supernatural, panic ensued. Crimes were committed, innocent people lost their lives, and economies were irrevocably changed. The world was irrevocably changed. The chaos spiraled without end, and no one thought the others and the humans would be able to coexist. 

That was, until, mankind saw how the monsters quivered in their proverbial boots when the demons came out to play.

Demons resided in the Aetherium, a realm parallel to our own where the Fae actually used to live, before they were tossed out by the castes roughly one thousand years ago. Somewhere along the line, the demons taught the magi how to create binding contracts that allowed them to come and go between the realms with ease. Their penchant for violence and gathering the body parts of "lesser" species—Fae, vampire, Were, magi, witch, and human—for their spells and rituals made them the stuff of nightmares. 

Our information and legends on them stated there were seven major castes, including the caste of Abaddon, and the contention between these castes was great. Whenever civil war broke out in the Aetherium, the demons snatched powerful casters and warriors from our realm like collectible prizefighters. Entire towns in the mid-west disappeared overnight, nothing left but splotches of blood and shattered homes. Years later, those areas still weren't safe to travel through. 

Even for all the havoc they created, demons weren't common. A physical contract had to be written down to summon one, and the details had to be hammered out between both parties. The contract was meant to be destroyed once the demon did as the summoner bid, thus pushing the creature back home where it belonged.

Maligaphrius' casual presence in Roccia Nera meant someone had an open contract with the demon, letting him roam about, making little "agreements" with people like me. Holy shit, talk about playing with fire. 

I had to find something—anything—for the demon to do that would satisfy the imbalance between us. I could not have that nightmare trailing my shadow, not while I was trying so desperately to live unnoticed in this godforsaken city. The authorities shot demon summoners and conspirators on sight. No questions asked.

Of course, if I completed our agreement, the demon might just decide he liked my liver and take it back to his real master—and maybe a leg. A few fingers. 

It also crossed my mind that I could ask for him to find Theda, or to tell me where she was, but that solution seemed analogous to trying to put out a fire with gasoline—namely, it'd explode in my face.

Covered in soot and chunks of melted Formica, I sat in the car and dialed the phone, doing my damnedest to pretend my entire trip to the diner hadn't happened because I hadn't gotten my lunch and I simply didn't have the mental capacity to handle the situation. My legs felt so weak I had difficulty driving, my middle quaking with undisguised nausea. I'd never heard of someone meeting a demon and living. I didn't have a point of reference for the magnitude of my encounter with the man of Abaddon.

Observing my newest problem from an objective—if somewhat hysterical—view, I had only scant days to find Theda, and perhaps a few more before I had to handle the impromptu agreement between Maligaphrius and me. Everything I'd ever read on the species said they had a skewed sense of time, so it could perceivably be years before we had another encounter—and, by then, I could very well be dead, especially if I didn't find Theda. I had to give my attention to one problem at a time. 

I shelved the demon issue, knowing it'd come back to haunt me later. 

The phone rang only once before it was answered, and I heard Telavar's boyish voice say, "Winters residence." 

"Don't you dare put Havik on the line again," I berated before he could say anything else. I waited for the words to sink in before continuing. "I wanted to ask about what you said earlier, about Theda not last being seen at Nera Court?" 

"Ah."

"Ah? Is that all you have to say?" I turned onto the quiet avenue bordering the block of vamp high-rises. Like much of the west bank, the street and sidewalks were empty during the daylight hours, though I did spy several day-men out and about, doing chores for their night-bound employers. "Vampire, you do not want to know the kind of day I've been having. What else are you and Havik keeping from me? What else should I know about?"

"I...." Telavar sighed, his breath quiet, tinged by the thinnest whine of unguarded vulnerability. "It is not my intention, nor Master Aurel's, to keep anything from you. He and I...disagree about where Theda was last seen. Neither of us saw her, we had not seen her since the night prior at the Gilded Glass, so we retraced her steps on the evening she disappeared to the best of our ability. As far as we know, Theda left her shift at Night Threads early at midnight, telling the manager she was headed home."

"So on what point do you two disagree?" 

"Theda did not return home, nor did she have any...viable reason to. It is possible she wished to visit a friend or a lover, but she did not say anything to either the Master or me. She may not have wished to tell Master Aurel, as subjects of a personal nature can be...uncomfortable to discuss with him, but she and I are closer. She would have mentioned it to me, if only to tell someone where she was." 

"But she didn't tell you anything?" I slowed the car to a stop in front of the security gate outside Theda's complex. Either the car was familiar to the guard or Telavar had called ahead, because the iron gate trundled aside and I was able to drive forward. 

"No. She did not. However, I have a...contact, of a sort, who frequents a...less than legal establishment...."

"I really don't like where this story is going."

"It's a blood pit," the vampire admitted, the words spilling from him in a guilty rush, as if he couldn't stand to speak them. "Vampire fights. To the death. My contact swears he saw her there, and that she was still there when he left at four in the morning."

The engine hummed, then quieted once I found an available parking space in the underground structure. The building was thirty stories or so, shorter than some of the other newer skyscrapers surrounding it, but not lacking in Old World, aristocratic flair. The walls were comprised of smooth, beige stone, complemented with white cornices, columned balconies, and stretches of dormant ivy. The fence surrounding the property was done in aged bricks, topped in a line of arcing metal barbs.

"Does Havik not believe your contact?" 

"He refuses to believe she was there at all. He will not entertain the thought."

Odd, though I now knew why the vampire had sent me to Nera Court and not to this blood pit. Why did Havik not believe Telavar's contact, and—by extension—Telavar? "Where is this place?"

"Ms. Winters, I—you cannot go there. Master Aurel would have my head—."

"If I'm to find Theda, I should know where she disappeared from," I told him, growing frustrated with his evasions. I got out of the vehicle, crossed the structure, and entered the building's elevator, thumbing the bronze button for the fifth floor. Gentle baroque music filtered into the car as it glided skyward and the call became spotty.

"You cannot go alone, then." 

"Fine, whatever." I flicked debris off my shoulder, then adjusted my smudged glasses. "I won't go alone. Now, will you please tell me where this place is?"

"If I must. It's on the corner of Eighth and Primavera." 

I blinked, surprised. "Eighth and Primavera? That's...that's on the east bank." 

"It is an illegal establishment, Ms. Winters. It attracts less scrutiny on the east bank than it would on the west."

I knew the streets he'd mentioned, had spent a few pleasant evenings on the opposing corner—Seventh and Primavera—with Sibbie and the 1831 Centauri pack at the bowling alley located there. There were few activities to be enjoyed on the desolate east bank, and the alley was a popular destination. I couldn't believe I'd been only an intersection away from a blood pit of all things.

"What was Theda doing there?" I asked, lowering my voice as I rose through the shallows of dormant vampire magic. It thinned when the sun crested the horizon and the moon's pull shifted, but with so many of them in the building, the effect was multiplied until it felt as if I were set adrift in the serene, unmoving waters of a foggy lake. "Was she gambling or...?"

I was suddenly exhausted and wanted to go home. 

Telavar answered and I missed his response. "What?"

"Fighting, Ms. Winters. She was fighting."

Either Telavar's daughter was strapped for cash or she was a shameless adrenaline junkie. Fights in the blood pit were to the death, and they were scorned by all corners of human and supernatural society. Getting caught there could get a person ejected from their cadre.

"Have you considered that she may have not...won?"

"My contact said her bout was over and she was headed to the bar."

That was of little comfort, considering she'd still been in a building filled with killers and people who bet upon their very lives. Had she crossed someone? Did her disappearance truly have nothing to do with Ishcer and everything to do with some drunken brawl in a back alley? Was it even possible for her to be alive?

I didn't know.

After a final word to Telavar, I returned the phone to my bag and stepped off the elevator. The hall was all but dark, the lights kept low in the day hours when the residents were safely tucked away in their rooms, and the carpet underfoot was thick enough to cushion the patter of my steps. It was difficult for my normal eyes to discern, but the walls appeared to be covered in a gold-colored wallpaper, and the moldings against the high ceiling were garish, painted a crisp white.

I paused outside Theda's door, seeing the ornate numbers and the bronze knob, but I didn't attempt to enter. I laid my hand against the door's panel and took a breath, willing my soul to inspect the essence contained within. The task was more difficult than I'd expected, as the constant traffic within the hall was a muddling influence—and, for some reason, every time I tried to pass a tendril of my ability through the door, it encountered some kind of obstacle.

What is that?

Concentrating, I ignored the subtle burns arising from my covered skin and forced my ability to hold a cohesive form. In my mind's eye, I stood outside my body, my soul's roughly formed hands pressed to the door like my real hands, and tried with all my might to move forward. I couldn't. Something was blocking my entry.

A hand touched the small of my back as someone leaned over me, whispering, "Having trouble, Ms. Winters?"

My soul returned to my body and I swiveled in place, banging my elbow against the obstructing door. Havik's golden eyes peered down at me from his great height, his normally tidy hair mussed from sleep. He was back in his favored garb, a dour waistcoat, and a gray cravat, though the cravat wasn't tied properly and the cuffs of his button-down were loose. It looked as if he'd dressed in a hurry.

My mouth popped open in silent exclamation. He did dress in a hurry. Outside, the sun was still shining, which meant Havik couldn't have come from a different location. He lived here, in this building. Telavar must have called him to say I had arrived.

I didn't like that I knew where the vampire laid his head at dawn. 

"You startled me," I complained as the vampire stuck two fingers into his breast pocket and retrieved a set of tagged keys. 

"I told you not to come until nightfall," he commented as he unlocked the door. He took in my general state of dishevelment, the dust and debris on my sleeves and shoulders, but he chose not to comment.

"And I told you I don't have time to waste." I crossed my arms over my middle, willing myself to be smaller as Havik's arm brushed against mine and he grasped the doorknob. His fair hands had a sophisticated strength, clean and unblemished, but muscled and lightly callused as if he'd wielded a tool or a weapon in his mortal days.

Why the hell am I staring at his hands?

He paused to consider me, dark brows drawing nearer each other. "I appreciate that you are taking this seriously," he said, his tone sincere, warm. Color crept up my neck and into my face, and I swallowed.

The vampire shoved open the door, and bright sunlight fell across us.

The entire hall shook when Havik hissed and slammed himself into the wall, out of the light and the golden trail it painted across the floor. His emotions hit me full force in a tidal wave of terror, his gilded eyes wild as a wounded dog's, the dark pupils dilated with fear. I was so overcome by it, my own heart was racing in my chest.

"The windows are tinted," I managed to get past the lump in my throat, shaking my head as the vampire sank to the floor and breathed heavily, closing his eyes. All windows in vampire residences were manufactured by a specific company specializing in the creation of photo-filtration glass. This glass removed the spectral wave that was harmful to vampires. If the window had been normal, the light would have been brighter, and not quite so orange. "You live here, how do you not know about the windows?"

A bead of sweat trickled from his temple and Aurel wiped it away without opening his eyes. "Live for centuries in fear of the sun," he breathed through clenched teeth. "And you will understand my reaction."

That made a measure of sense, but I still wondered at the excessiveness of his reaction.

I stepped inside the apartment, and found that it wasn't what I thought it'd be. I'd never been in a vampire's home before, and though I understood the Gothic mentality of flowing velvet dresses, candelabras, and cobweb-motifs was a gross stereotype, I was still surprised by how normal the place was.

The apartment wasn't large, but it was well-furnished, consisting of a main room, a bedroom, and a bathroom. Theda had left an electric fan on, and it whirred in the small kitchen, the breeze it stirred rifling through the fashion magazines she'd strewn on the glass table. There were two slender windows on the opposing wall letting in the sunlight, and between them was a unit of built-in shelves and a desk. The high-end computer was on, the screensaver bobbing across the screen.

"Vampires have kitchens?" I marveled, looking at the space off to the side of the main area where there was a stainless-steel fridge, a stovetop, and a good amount of counter space.

Havik was sidling into the room, grimly braving the filtered sunlight until he could side-step into the shadows. "Blood must be refrigerated, Ms. Winters, and despite your distaste, some of us have human visitors we delight playing host to."

I didn't respond, but I silently admitted to my own rudeness. Of course they had kitchens. They used to be human, after all—at least most of them did. Fae-vamps, Noctum-Danann, or witch-vamps, Noctum-Wiccar, were possible, though uncommon. Regardless, they were people, not just a pair of fangs.

It was the home of a young woman. Stylish clothes were strewn on the sofa, designer jackets hung on the dining chairs without care, shoes dotting the hardwood floors. A bass guitar was thrown onto the armchair facing the window. There were books in the built-ins, some of them quite old, but there was also a large collection of DVDs, CDs and records. A house plant sat on one shelf, wilting.

I gingerly lowered my weight onto one of the dining chairs, conscious of Havik watching me with his hawkish eyes as I once more allowed my soul to seep from my body. I pushed it fully from me, losing my physical sight and corporeal sense. The room was instead illuminated in shades of emotion and essence, Havik a broiling spot in the corner, colored in shades of anxiety, anger, and something purplish I wasn't familiar with.

From the conversation I'd had with Telavar, in which he'd told me Theda fought in a blood pit, I thought her apartment would contain more signs of anger or aggression—but the dominant emotion inside here was rose-colored happiness. She was a content woman. There were spots of sadness around the television, which meant she probably got weepy when watching it, and thin streaks of vanity by the wall mirror. She thought herself pretty. 

The emotions were days old. The essences of Havik and Telavar were more prominent than the missing woman's, their signatures lingering in the main room, as if they'd spent many hours sitting there, waiting for her to come home. 

There was a stain of melancholy near the shelves, and I had to draw myself back into my body to open my physical eyes and see it properly. A framed pictured rested there, and—as I stood to study it—I noted how the dust on the shelf was disturbed, as though Theda had often picked up and moved the picture.

The image was a casual one, taken in the last few years based on the vividness of the printed colors. Theda held the camera up and at a downward angle to capture herself, Telavar, and a seated Havik. Theda was a vibrantly dressed young woman, her makeup pristine, and her grin mischievous. The master was reading a book, but he had the presence of mind to tilt his chin and offer a small, indulgent smile.

They were all vampires, born from different mothers, in different eras, and yet...and yet they were a closer family than any I'd ever known. I only had bad memories of vampires, memories of Havik throwing me into a wall, terrified of my markings, and of Wyrd draining that man of life, but the vampires were more than that. They were more.

"We're all monsters, Grae." Wyrd's words returned to me. "Some, like you, just take longer to realize it."

I touched the corner of the frame as my scars itched and burned. "Why don't you think she was at the blood pit?" I asked aloud without hesitation. "If she was there, I need to know."

Havik paced nearer, his footsteps unusually heavy, as if he were stomping with aggravation. "Telavar should not have told you."

"He did the right thing."

"She was not there!"

I turned to face the vampire behind me, blinking when he left the shadows. His skin, untouched directly by the sun for centuries, glowed in the filtered light, though his hair was still uniformly black. His eyes shone as the only spots of color in his monochromatic visage.

Havik's reticence in conceding Theda's possible presence at the blood pit wasn't based on logic. It wasn't that he didn't trust Telavar or his wily contact; he simply placed too much trust in Theda. He didn't want to believe someone he loved as a daughter could possibly be involved in something so heinous, that she could be so carelessly risking her life.

Admitting Theda had been there meant admitting he didn't know her as well as he thought he did. I think such a revelation terrified Aurel.

The vampire reached for me and I flinched when he curled his fingers beneath my chin. His touch was cool and hair-raising, his fingertips tracing my jaw before following the slope of my neck, coming to rest over my jugular.

"Theda joined my cadre in 1916. I had no desire to add another member, yet her circumstances demanded I do so. I traded often with her true family, a band of gypsies, for information or goods, whatever I found more valuable at the time. In the mass hysteria created when the Fae decided to reveal our presence, Theda's parents were among the casualties killed for associating with the preternatural—for associating with me—and though I managed to save their daughter from the pyre, her injuries necessitated a change. I stole her life."

"I'm sorry—."

"I don't want your pity." He lowered his face to mine, his voice growling in his chest. "I only want you to understand she would never do something so foolish. She wouldn't throw her life away in ridiculous blood sports!"

I touched the hand on my neck, laying my own over it before giving Havik a few sympathetic pats. I was shocked even master vampires were capable of being shortsighted when it came to their family. "Okay, I understand." 

"You won't go there, then?" He removed his hand from my person, though his eyes never left mine.

"I won't."

"Grae...."

"I have everything I need. I'll just...get out of your hair."

Careful to not touch him again, I side-stepped Havik and walked to the door, not breathing. The tension drawn between us was immense, like a cord pulled taut enough to snap, and I refused to look back at him as I exited the apartment, striding swiftly down the hall. His stare followed, unrelenting.

Only when I was in the elevator did I dare take a breath.

Lying to vampires could not be good for my health.