Rachel paced her bedroom, unable to shake the Leech from her skin.

The puncture high on her thigh had stopped bleeding, but the skin around it burned each time she moved. She had wrapped herself in a robe, scrubbed her hands twice, and still she could feel the slick coil tightening around her leg, the cold pressure around her waist, and the awful calm of its voice moving through her mind as though her body had never truly belonged to her.

It had known what she was.

Worse, it had been searching for her.

For one frantic moment, she thought about calling her mother. The impulse was childish and immediate, a desperate reach for comfort and for some impossible answer only a parent might have. But her mother was overseas, and Rachel already knew there would be no simple explanation waiting at the end of the call.

Then she thought of Darius.

He would come if she asked. He would probably arrive gentle, worried, and already half convinced he knew what was best for her. He had taken her home while she was under his influence. He had stayed in her apartment. He had looked through enough of her life to understand what mattered to her, and whenever he crossed a line, he looked sorry enough to make the line harder to hold.

Then she thought of Vlad.

Vlad would hear the fear in her voice and come with that ancient calm of his, all controlled violence and quiet command. He would not mean to make her feel trapped. That was the frightening part. He would call it protection, and perhaps some part of it would be. He thought like a soldier. He saw danger and moved to contain it.

Rachel pressed a shaking hand to her thigh and looked towards the bathroom door.

The Leech had found her in her own bath. Her own home. The one place that was supposed to belong to her.

Protection had already failed.

She did not know Vlad or Darius well enough to trust them with her fear. Maybe they would help, or maybe they would take one look at the wound, the blood, and the terror she could not hide, and decide that her choices were now too dangerous to remain hers.

She needed answers before anyone else decided fear was a good enough reason to handle her.

Myus had known about the Abaddon. He had known more than Vlad or Darius had been willing to say, or perhaps more than they had wanted her to understand. He was dangerous, self serving, and far too pleased by her attention, but he was also vile enough to tell the truth if the price amused him.

The thought of going to him turned her stomach.

The thought of doing nothing was worse.

She had no car, and no rental place would be open at this hour. Myus's cottage was too far out for a simple taxi trip, buried beyond the edge of the city where no driver in their right mind would wait for her, and she could not call Vlad or Darius without giving them the chance to stop her. Vlad's apartment, however, was close to the club. Close enough that she remembered the street, the black glass frontage, and the quiet wealth of the building.

It was a terrible plan, but it was the only one that moved her forward.

Rachel grabbed her jacket and called a taxi before she could talk herself out of it.

The city was still caught in the hush before morning when the taxi pulled up outside Vlad's building. The streets were blue with early light, slick from rain that had passed while the rest of the world slept. Rachel paid the driver and stepped onto the footpath, staring up at the tower as doubt pressed hard against her ribs.

The sensible part of her begged her to turn around, but the puncture in her thigh burned when she moved, and the memory of the Leech kept pushing her towards the doors.

Getting inside was easier than it should have been. A resident left as she approached, and she caught the door before it closed. The foyer was all polished stone, dim lighting, and expensive silence, with the faint scent of flowers and glass washed clean by rain hanging in the air.

The lift required a keycard.

Rachel stared at the panel as frustration tightened in her chest, then turned towards the concierge desk. The man behind it looked up with the polite suspicion of someone paid to notice everything.

"I'm here to see Vlad," she said.

His expression did not change. "Do you have an apartment number?"

Rachel did not.

She gave him a smile she did not feel. "He's expecting me."

The man studied her for a moment, then glanced towards the private lifts. Whatever he saw in her face must have been convincing enough, because he picked up the phone and made a brief call she could not hear. A moment later, he set the receiver down and came around the desk.

"I'll take you up."

Rachel followed him into the lift, her stomach twisting. She had expected resistance, questions, perhaps even being turned away, but the ease of it only made her feel more exposed.

By the time they reached Vlad's floor, her nerves were stretched thin. The concierge left her in a private hallway with only a handful of doors, each one set far enough apart to suggest too much money and too many secrets.

She did not need to knock twice before Vlad opened the door.

He was dressed in a black shirt and dark trousers, as though sleep had never been required of him. His hair was loose around his face, and for one foolish second, the sight of him made something in her chest ache.

His gaze sharpened the moment he saw her.

"It wasn't long ago that I dropped you home," he said. "And yet here you are."

Rachel stepped past him before she lost her nerve. "I need to borrow your car."

Vlad closed the door slowly. "For what purpose?"

"I need to do something."

His eyes moved over her, taking in the jacket, the tension in her shoulders, and the way she could not seem to keep still. His expression did not change, but the air between them did.

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Rachel."

Her name in his mouth was gentle, and that made it worse.

She moved towards the kitchen, searching for his keys, but Vlad crossed the room and caught her lightly by the wrist. It was not hard or cruel, but it was enough to stop her.

"What happened?" he asked again.

She almost told him. The truth rose to her tongue, sharp with panic. Something came for me. It knew what I was. It was searching for the Aphrodite.

But the moment she imagined saying it, she saw what would follow. Vlad's face would go still, his concern would become command, and he would come with her or stop her from going at all. Either way, he would call it protection, and perhaps it would be, but the choice would no longer belong to her.

Rachel swallowed. "I need your car."

"For what?"

"I told you. I need to do something."

"At this hour?"

"It's important."

"So important you came here shaking and expect me not to ask why?"

Her pulse jumped. She hated that he had noticed. She hated even more that part of her wanted to tell him everything and let his ancient certainty become shelter.

But shelter was still a kind of cage.

"I have a family emergency," she said.

Vlad's gaze did not leave hers. "Your parents are overseas."

"It's not about them."

"Then who?"

Rachel looked away.

"Rachel."

The gentleness in his voice almost undid her.

She reached for his hands, desperate now, weaving her fingers through his before she thought better of it. "Please, Vlad. I need you to trust me."

"I do trust you."

"Then let me go."

His expression tightened. "Not like this."

Fear rose too fast, hot and violet beneath her skin. She could feel him closing around the situation, not with cruelty, but with care sharpened into command. He would stop her. He would protect her. He would make the decision simple and impossible.

"I need you to let me go," she whispered.

A flicker of purple crossed his eyes.

Rachel felt his resistance meet her power and bend.

Her breath caught.

Vlad's expression shifted, not into peace, but into something far worse. Awareness. He knew what was happening. He fought it quietly and fiercely, and still his hands softened around hers.

"Of course, Aphrodite," he said, his voice strained. "What is mine is yours."

Rachel let go as if his skin had burned her.

For several seconds, neither of them moved. His keys sat on the breakfast bar, and she stared at them before looking back at him.

"Vlad..."

The violet had faded from his eyes, but not the wound from his face.

"Take them," he said.

It was not permission. Not truly.

Rachel's throat tightened. "I'm sorry."

He did not answer.

She grabbed the keys and left before the guilt could stop her.

In the basement, she found his car among a row of expensive vehicles and slid behind the wheel with shaking hands. The engine came alive too smoothly, too quietly, as though the world itself had decided to make this easier than it should be.

She drove out before she could turn back.

The city thinned into highway, then into long roads that carved towards the national park. The route to Myus's cottage came back to her with unsettling clarity: one road, one turnoff, then the narrow track beneath trees that seemed to lean closer the deeper she went.

Morning light followed her for a while, thin and silver across the road, but the forest swallowed it long before she reached the cottage. By the time she pulled up outside, the sun had become a pale rumour behind the canopy, and the air carried a chill that had no place in the early morning.

Rachel stepped from the car and immediately wished she had stayed inside.

Birds watched from the branches, their heads turning in eerie unison as she closed the door. An owl with a pale, moonlike face blinked at her from a low branch, its eyes fixed on her with unsettling judgment.

"Great," Rachel muttered. "Even the wildlife looks concerned."

The owl hooted.

Rachel pulled her jacket tighter and walked towards the cottage.

Myus waited in the doorway, the darkness of the cottage gathered behind him so thickly it seemed to belong to him. In the body her essence had helped shape, he looked young, bare chested, and far too pleased with himself.

"How about investing in some lights?" Rachel said.

His mouth curved. "Have you considered calling at a civilised hour? I had only just gone to bed."

"You're a night creature. Surely this is your morning."

"I am whatever the moment requires me to be."

"Convenient."

His grin widened. "Are you coming in, Aphrodite, or would you prefer to remain outside with my pets?"

"Pets?" Rachel glanced at the owls. "That's what we're calling them?"

"They are loyal. That is more than I can say for most creatures."

She stepped closer to the threshold, but the darkness inside made her pause. "Is this how you treat all your visitors?"

"Only the interesting ones."

"It's pitch black in there."

"You have the power to light your own path."

Rachel looked at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You are love, lust, and birth made flesh. Your essence brings life. Light is not so great a leap."

"That sounds like something embroidered on a cushion."

"It may be sentimental, but you do light up my world." His eyes gleamed with the same unsettling admiration he had shown her before. "You have made me feel young again. I was a bitter old man before you wandered into my misery."

"I'm touched. Can you turn on a light?"

"We are off the grid."

"Then light a candle."

"I generally do not require candles. I do not possess a physical form unless I choose one." His gaze travelled over her with deliberate slowness. "This one is for your benefit."

Rachel's patience snapped. She reached for the doorframe, ready to demand he stop playing games, but the moment her fingers touched the wood, the bulbs above her flickered and came to life. Warm light spilled through the cottage, and for a second, all she could do was stare.

Myus laughed softly. "There she is."

She looked up at the glowing bulbs, then back at him. "I did that?"

"Your powers are tied to your emotions. Irritation appears to be a useful teacher."

He brushed his fingers lightly along her cheek, and although his touch was gentle, Rachel stepped away before it could linger.

In the light, the cottage looked less like a home and more like a place pretending to be one. Shelves crowded the walls, heavy with dried herbs, tarnished charms, old bones, and objects whose purpose she did not want to understand. The furniture was worn but elegant, all dark wood and faded velvet, as though the room remembered refinement even if its owner no longer cared for it.

Rachel sat on the couch.

Myus took the chair opposite her, lounging as if she had come for tea rather than answers.

"What do you know of the Leech?" she asked.

The amusement slipped from his face.

"What have your vampires told you?"

"I want to hear it from you."

"How flattering."

"You want my essence," she said. "Give me information worth paying for."

His smile returned, but it was thinner now. "The Leech serves the Abaddon, though serves may be too generous a word. It belongs to the edges of things, to the places where this world rubs against others. If it has found you, then the Abaddon is already reaching for you."

Rachel's fingers curled into the couch fabric. "It found me at home. Or in a dream. I don't even know anymore. It recognised me."

"Of course it did."

Her stomach dropped. "Why?"

"Because it was searching for you."

Silence spread through the room.

Rachel forced herself to breathe. "For the Aphrodite."

"For you," Myus corrected. "There is a difference, though I suspect you have not yet learned it."

"What happens now?"

"If the Leech has found you, the Abaddon will follow."

The room seemed to tilt beneath her, and Rachel gripped the edge of the couch as though the old velvet could keep her anchored. "How long do I have?"

Myus's smile thinned. "If the Leech reached your dreams, then the Abaddon is no longer waiting in the dark. He is testing the edges of this world, feeling for the places thin enough to tear."

"Days?" Rachel asked. "Weeks?"

"Perhaps, if he is impatient. Perhaps longer, if he decides fear will soften you first." Myus leaned back, his gaze fixed on her with unsettling interest. "Creatures like him do not always rush. Sometimes they let terror prepare the way."

Rachel stood, too restless to remain seated. "Then tell me how to stop him."

Myus watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Centuries ago, the Abaddon took form in this world. A creature of light destroyed that body. Not him, not truly, but enough to cast him out."

"A creature of light?" Rachel asked. "Can it help me?"

"No."

"You don't know that."

"I do."

"Why?"

"Because it has never helped an Aphrodite before."

The words settled coldly inside her.

Myus leaned back in his chair. "Light does not mean mercy. You should learn that before you go chasing it."

"Why did it destroy him?"

"The Abaddon got greedy." Myus's mouth twisted. "He tried to take the creature's mate. He has always believed wanting something was reason enough to claim it."

Rachel thought of the Leech, of Vlad's face when she had bent his will, and of Myus watching her as though she were a meal and a miracle.

"And now he wants me."

"Yes."

"What for?"

Myus's eyes gleamed, and Rachel hated him for enjoying the question.

"At the end of all the wars, all the prophecies, and all the grand stories creatures tell themselves, survival is usually the ugliest truth." He tilted his head, studying her as though she were something rare and inevitable. "The Abaddon has no true body here. No dynasty. No future. Not without something capable of binding life to destruction."

Rachel stared at him. "A child."

"A bond first."

The word made her skin crawl.

"No," she said.

"You asked what he wanted."

"No."

Myus's smile faded. "There are stories of Aphrodites who died by their own hand rather than face him."

For a moment, Rachel could not speak. The room hummed around her, every light bulb glowing a fraction brighter, as if the cottage itself had drawn breath with her.

"What does he do when he reaches earth?" she asked.

"Read the ruins. Cities removed from history. Bloodlines ended. Whole places swallowed so completely that mortals turned them into myths because the truth was too large to carry." His voice lowered. "You feed on love. He feeds on death."

"Why an Aphrodite? Why not some other creature?"

"I know of no other being made quite like you. Love, birth, hunger, devotion. You are not merely desired, Rachel. You are useful."

The word struck harder than she expected.

Useful.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "So what am I supposed to do? Love him into becoming less monstrous?"

Myus studied her.

"You say that as though love is soft."

Rachel frowned.

"It is not," he continued. "Love changes things. It ruins good judgment, bends loyalties, remakes monsters into men and men into monsters. Your kind were never dangerous because they were beautiful. You were dangerous because things wanted to become worthy of you."

"That is the worst advice I've ever heard."

"It is not advice. It is a warning."

"I came here for answers, not poetic nonsense."

His expression cooled, and the change was enough to make Rachel regret the sharpness of her tone. The air grew heavier before he moved, pressing against her skin as the shadows beneath the shelves seemed to lengthen.

"You are very bold for someone in debt."

Rachel stood her ground. "I paid you last time."

"You gave me a taste."

He crossed the room with a speed that made her step back, but he was already in front of her, close enough that the cold of him slid over her skin.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Settling accounts."

He spat onto her cheek.

The shock of it lasted only a heartbeat before disgust roared through her. Rachel shoved him hard and wiped her face with the back of her hand.

"Don't touch me."

Myus laughed.

She slapped him.

The shield burst from her before she knew she had summoned it. Light slammed through the room, hurling Myus backwards into the wall with enough force to crack the timber. The bulbs flared overhead, burning white hot as Rachel stared at her own hands and tried to steady her breathing.

Myus peeled himself from the wall with a pained groan. "And there it is. A shield. Of course an Aphrodite would need protection from her devoted admirers."

"Devoted?" Rachel took a step towards him. "You're disgusting."

"I am honest."

"No. You're useful. That's all."

His eyes darkened.

Rachel pointed at him. "Tell me the name of the creature that destroyed the Abaddon."

For the first time, Myus seemed to consider refusing. Then his gaze flicked towards a shelf.

Rachel followed it.

A small trinket box sat between a cracked silver mirror and a bundle of dried black flowers. Myus moved to it, opened the lid, and withdrew a thin gold bracelet.

Even from across the room, Rachel felt the pull of it.

It was not curiosity or greed, but recognition.

The bracelet was old, its gold dulled with age, yet it caught the light as if fire slept beneath the metal. Tiny words were etched along the inner curve.

Love conquers all.

Rachel's mouth went dry. "What is that?"

"A charm of the old creatures."

"What does it do?"

"I was never able to make it answer me."

"That doesn't mean it has no purpose."

"No." Myus smiled faintly. "Only that its purpose was never me."

Rachel took a step closer before she could stop herself. The pull sharpened, running through her blood like a memory trying to wake.

"What was the creature called?" she asked.

Myus held the bracelet between them.

"The Phoenix."

The name moved through Rachel like a struck bell. For a breath, she saw fire, wings, a woman of light, and a man screaming in grief. Then the vision vanished so quickly she almost doubted it had happened at all.

Rachel blinked, shaken. "Give it to me."

"So commanding."

"You said it was no use to you."

"I did."

He extended the bracelet, and as Rachel reached for it, his grip loosened. The gold slipped from his fingers and struck the floor with a soft metallic sound.

She bent to pick it up.

Myus caught her wrist.

Too late, Rachel understood.

His smile spread, cruel and delighted. "Still so young."

She tried to wrench free, but his grip tightened, and purple light crawled beneath her skin, drawn towards him in thin, shimmering threads. Rachel gasped as cold rushed through her arm and into her chest, stealing the breath before she could turn it into a scream.

Myus pulled her close, his mouth near her ear. "You came here knowing what I wanted."

Rachel drove her elbow into his ribs, but he barely moved. Her shield flickered, weak and broken, then vanished before it could form. Panic surged through her as she reached again for the heat inside her chest, but Myus drew harder, dragging her essence from her in ribbons of violet light that fed into his hands, his throat, and the borrowed body he had shaped from her power.

"Stop," she said through clenched teeth.

"You offered me hunger and expected manners?"

He shoved her down.

Rachel hit the floor hard, pain bursting through her back, and rolled instinctively towards the bracelet. Before her fingers could reach it, darkness poured from Myus and bled across the ceiling, swallowing the shelves, the walls, and the weak glow of the bulbs until the room vanished around them.

There was nothing but his shadow above her, the cold drag of her own power leaving her body, and the terrible pressure of the dark closing in.

"Not so strong without your vampire," he murmured.

Rage cut through the fear.

Rachel forced herself to stay present. He had tricked her, played frightened, played helpful, and let her believe she had power here. She had underestimated him, but the thought did not last. Beneath the cold, beneath the panic, something hotter stirred.

No.

She had underestimated herself.

The heat was small at first, no brighter than a coal cupped in ash, but Rachel held onto it and fed it with fury, shame, and the memory of Vlad's eyes when she had taken his will. She fed it with the horror of being touched, claimed, and used, until the warmth inside her became unbearable.

Myus's smile faltered.

Rachel drew a breath that hurt all the way down, then screamed.

Light exploded from her, tearing the darkness apart and hurling Myus across the room. He smashed through a table and into the far wall as the cottage shook around them. The bulbs burst one by one, showering sparks over the floor.

Rachel rolled onto her side, gasping.

The bracelet lay inches from her hand.

She reached for it, and when her fingers brushed the gold, warmth answered for one impossible second.

Then the darkness crept back.

Rachel tried to push herself up, but her arms trembled beneath her. The burst had emptied her. Her vision blurred, and the room tilted as light and shadow bled into each other, Myus groaning somewhere beyond her sight.

She curled her fingers around the bracelet.

The last thing she heard was the owl outside, crying into the trees.

Then the floor rushed up to meet her, and everything went black.