Beth's apartment sat above a narrow street lined with late night cafés, closed boutiques, and apartment windows glowing gold against the dark. From the living room, Rachel could see people moving along the footpath below, their shadows stretching beneath streetlights as they wandered home from dinner, walked dogs, waited for rides, or stood in small groups laughing as though the world had not become a place full of hunters.

She stood near the window with her arms folded across herself, the sleeves of Beth's jumper pulled low over the dark coils on her skin. Beth had given her the jumper the moment she arrived, along with a pair of soft socks and the kind of concerned look Rachel did not have the strength to answer properly. The fabric was warm and smelled faintly of vanilla detergent, but beneath it the mark burned with a slow, patient heat.

Gabriel had told her to stay away from anyone human who could be used to reach her, and standing in Beth's apartment now, wrapped in borrowed warmth and familiar kindness, Rachel knew she should never have come. Beth was the most human thing she had left, kind and curious and generous enough to believe a bad day could be fixed with wine, takeaway, and a movie she had already seen three times.

Rachel pressed her fingers against the inside of her wrist, and the burn pulsed beneath her touch. For a moment, the apartment shifted at the edges, the television flickering while the city lights blurred against the glass and the low roar of water moved through her memory. Ice flashed beneath her skin, darkness pressed close, and the voice from the breach returned in a whisper that seemed to rise from the mark itself.

Soon, Aphrodite.

When Beth's phone rang from the kitchen counter, Rachel flinched hard enough to strike her shoulder against the window frame, and the apartment rushed back around her in a blur of television light, city glass, and Beth's startled face.

Beth looked up from the couch. "You okay?"

Rachel forced her hand away from the mark. "Fine."

Beth's brows lifted. "That was not fine."

"It startled me."

"The phone?"

Rachel nodded because it was easier than saying a demon from the dark had almost spoken through the bones of her arm.

Beth picked up the phone, glanced at the screen, then ignored the call and tossed it onto the cushion beside her. "Unknown number. Probably someone trying to sell me solar panels again."

Rachel looked toward her own phone, lying face down on the coffee table. She had silenced it after Vlad's messages became too frequent to ignore, then turned it over because seeing his name light up on the screen made something tighten in her chest.

She had spent long enough thinking about everything she had done wrong. Darius. Myus. The leech. The police. The mark. If the Abaddon was coming for her, if her dreams meant anything, then sooner or later she would have to face Vlad as well.

The thought made her stomach twist.

Beth watched her with open concern. "Rach, seriously, what's going on?"

Rachel moved away from the window and sank onto the couch beside her. "It's hard to explain."

Beth softened at once. "Then explain it badly. I'm good at filling in gaps."

A tired laugh escaped Rachel. "I don't think you can fill in these ones."

"Try me."

Rachel looked at her friend's face, at the familiar tilt of her head, the smudged mascara from a long day, and the soft determination in her eyes. Beth had always believed closeness meant access to the truth. They shared coffee orders, bad date stories, work gossip, regrets, crushes, and every small crisis that could be solved by sitting on the floor with snacks. For one dangerous second, Rachel wanted to hand her the whole impossible truth and let someone else hold the weight of it.

"What would you say," Rachel asked, choosing each word with care, "if I told you I had powers, and there was some demon creature after me?"

Beth stared at her for a long moment before laughter broke across her face.

Rachel looked away before the disappointment could show.

"I don't know what you've been smoking," Beth said, wiping at the corner of one eye, "but whatever it is, I want some."

"Forget I said it."

"No, wait." Beth caught her wrist before Rachel could pull her arm fully into her lap. "Hold on. When did you get this?"

Rachel's sleeve had slipped back just enough to show the dark edge of the mark, and her stomach dropped as Beth leaned closer, the laughter leaving her face as fascination replaced it.

"Rachel Costa, you got a tattoo and didn't tell me?"

"It's not a tattoo."

"So it is henna?"

"Yes." Rachel seized the lie because it was there. "Henna. For an art thing."

"What art thing?"

"A friend's project."

"You do not have art friends."

"I have mysterious layers."

Beth gave her a look. "You have spreadsheets and stress."

Rachel tried to pull her arm back, but Beth's fingers had already slipped beneath the sleeve, pushing the fabric higher. The dark coils wound around Rachel's wrist and up her forearm, too black and too precise to pass for anything harmless.

Beth's mouth parted. "This is incredible."

Her fingertips brushed the mark.

The apartment disappeared behind darkness.

For half a second, Rachel saw him behind Beth, a shadow too tall for the ceiling, a shape without edges, a darkness pressing close enough to bend the air. The mark flared beneath Beth's touch, and the voice moved again, nearer this time, as if Beth's human warmth had given it something to hold.

Rachel tore her arm away.

Beth blinked. "Ow. Did I hurt you?"

"No." Rachel pulled the sleeve down with shaking fingers. "It was a mistake."

"The henna?"

"Yes."

Beth studied her face for a long moment, and this time she did not laugh. "You're scaring me."

Rachel swallowed. "I'm scaring myself."

The honesty sat between them, fragile and too close to the truth.

Beth reached for the remote and switched off the television. "Okay. We're staying in. No work talk, no mysterious tattoo talk unless you want to, and no staring out the window like you're waiting for assassins."

Rachel managed a faint smile.

Beth stood and pointed toward the kitchen. "I have popcorn, two bottles of wine, and a romantic comedy with a man so attractive he makes the plot irrelevant. You are going to sit there, drink slowly, and let me distract you from whatever this is."

Rachel knew she should leave, because Gabriel had been right and Beth's apartment was not safe simply because it was warm, familiar, and full of cushions. The sensible part of her knew every minute here made Beth easier to find, easier to threaten, easier to use.

But Rachel was so tired that the thought of moving again made her bones ache.

"All right," she said. "That does sound good."

Beth brightened with relief and launched herself into the small rituals of comfort. She brought popcorn, a blanket, two glasses, and a bottle of white wine from the fridge. Rachel let herself be tucked into the corner of the couch, let Beth pour for both of them, let their glasses touch in a quiet little toast that meant nothing and everything.

"To surviving awful days," Beth said.

Rachel looked down at the pale wine in her glass. "To that."

For a while, the night almost became ordinary.

The movie was ridiculous enough to help. Beth laughed too loudly at every joke, Rachel drank more than she meant to, and for a stretch of time the police, the Abaddon, and the creatures who had begun to orbit her life all receded beneath the warmth of wine and the soft weight of the blanket over her legs.

Her phone lit up again on the coffee table.

Rachel ignored it.

Beth noticed the light but said nothing at first. Then it happened again. And again. By the time the movie reached the halfway point, Beth paused it with the remote and gave Rachel a look.

"Your phone has been glowing like a haunted lighthouse."

Rachel reached for the bottle instead. "Then stop looking at it."

Beth leaned over before Rachel could stop her and picked up the phone. "Vlad again."

Rachel held out her hand. "Give it back."

Beth's eyes widened with sudden interest. "Again?"

"Beth."

"So there is someone special."

"There is someone complicated."

Beth grinned, delighted by the correction. "That is worse. Complicated always means better looking than sensible."

Rachel took the phone from her and turned it over without reading the messages. "I don't want to talk about him."

Beth softened. "Is that why you came here? Did something happen?"

Rachel filled both glasses, though hers was already too full. "A lot happened."

"Between you and Vlad?"

Rachel looked at the wine. "Between me and everyone, apparently."

Beth watched her for a moment, then picked up her own phone with a guilty little flicker in her expression.

Rachel narrowed her eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"That was a lie with terrible posture."

Beth smiled too brightly. "How do you feel about having company?"

Rachel stared at her. "Beth."

"Before you say no, he's nice."

"No."

"He's bringing pizza."

"Still no."

"And he might know Vlad."

Rachel went cold.

Beth's smile faltered. "I might have mentioned you were here."

Rachel set her glass down too hard. "You what?"

"I didn't tell him everything. I only said you were upset and that Vlad kept texting you."

"Who is he?"

Beth winced. "Adam. From the club."

Rachel stood, and the blanket slipped from her lap to the floor. "Beth, you cannot invite random men from clubs to your apartment because I am having a bad night."

"He's not random. He was charming."

"That is worse."

Beth's phone buzzed, and her wince deepened.

Rachel grabbed her bag from beside the couch. "Tell him not to come up."

"He is already downstairs."

The intercom rang.

Rachel closed her eyes.

Beth hurried toward it, still apologising under her breath. "I'm sorry. I thought it would help. You were so tense, and I thought maybe if he knew Vlad, he could explain whatever weird thing is going on between you two."

"You don't understand what you've done."

Beth pressed the intercom. "Hello?"

A male voice came through, muffled by static. "It's Adam. I have pizza and questionable timing."

Beth looked at Rachel with pleading eyes.

Rachel should have run. She should have pushed past Beth, taken the stairs, disappeared into the street, and kept moving until she found somewhere no one knew her name, but the police were looking for her, the Abaddon had marked her, and Vlad was coming whether she opened the door or not.

Beth buzzed Adam in.

Rachel clutched her bag to her chest. "I can't meet anyone new right now."

"Just five minutes," Beth said. "If it's awful, I'll send him away."

A knock sounded at the door before Rachel could answer.

Beth opened it with an apologetic smile, and Adam stood on the other side holding three pizza boxes stacked against his chest. He had brown eyes, tousled hair, and the kind of easy smile that explained why Beth had abandoned caution the moment he sent a text. Rachel might have found him charming on any other night.

Then she saw Vlad behind him, and her breath caught as the hallway seemed to narrow around the controlled fury in his face.

He stood in the hallway in a black coat, his expression unreadable, though his eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made the bond beneath her skin pull tight. He looked immaculate, calm, and furious in a way that did not need raised voices.

The mark under her sleeve burned at once.

Rachel moved her arm behind her back.

Beth glanced between them. "Surprise?"

Adam lifted the pizza boxes a little. "I hope we are not interrupting."

"You are," Rachel said.

Vlad's gaze did not leave her. "Good evening, Rachel."

Her mouth went dry. "Vlad."

Beth's face shifted into concern. "Okay, this is definitely too tense. Was this too soon?"

Vlad looked at her for the first time, and the faint confusion in his expression might have been funny if Rachel had not been close to panic. "Too soon for what?"

Beth gestured between him and Rachel. "Whatever this is."

Adam stepped inside and nudged Beth toward the kitchen with the pizza boxes. "Why don't we find plates?"

Beth hesitated. "Rachel?"

Rachel forced herself to breathe. "It's fine."

Vlad's eyes dropped to her hidden arm, and Rachel knew with absolute certainty that it was not fine at all.

"Rachel and I need a moment," he said.

Beth looked at Rachel for permission.

Rachel hated that Beth was trying to protect her from the wrong danger. "Go ahead and start without us."

Vlad stepped back into the hallway and waited.

Rachel followed because refusing would only make Beth ask more questions. The moment she crossed the threshold, Vlad closed the apartment door behind them, shutting out the warm light, the smell of pizza, and the last fragile piece of the ordinary evening Beth had tried to give her.

The hallway felt too narrow around them.

Vlad's voice was quiet. "You nearly killed Darius."

Rachel gripped the strap of her bag. "I didn't mean to."

"That sentence is becoming dangerous in your mouth."

The words landed hard because he did not shout them.

"I know," she said.

For a moment, his anger faltered. He looked at her as if the admission had reached some part of him he had not meant to expose, then the control returned to his face.

"Do you?" he asked. "Darius called me with your blood on his clothes, Myus is dead, my car vanished, police are searching for you, and you are hiding in a human apartment as if friendship and cheap wine can shelter you from what you have done."

Rachel's throat tightened. "I had nowhere else to go."

"You had me."

"I was afraid to come to you."

His jaw shifted. "You should have been."

The mark burned beneath her sleeve, and Vlad's gaze dropped again.

"Show me your arm," he said.

"No."

"Rachel."

"You don't get to order me around."

His eyes lifted to hers. "Tonight, I may be the only person standing between you and whatever has put that mark on your skin."

She went still.

Vlad's expression changed, the anger narrowing into something sharper.

"You thought I would not feel it?" he asked. "Something is wrapped around you that should not be there."

Rachel pulled her sleeve lower. "It's nothing."

"Lying to me is an exhausting choice when the lie is burning through your clothing."

She looked toward Beth's door.

Vlad followed the movement. "Beth cannot shield you. Adam will keep her calm if this becomes difficult, but I would prefer not to involve her any further."

"What does that mean?"

"It means your human friend is already too close to this, and I am giving you the chance to leave before your enemies learn to use her."

The fear that moved through Rachel then was cleaner than shame. Beth laughing at the movie. Beth touching the mark. Beth telling Adam to come over because she thought she was helping. Beth opening the door to things she did not know existed.

Rachel looked down.

Vlad's voice softened only slightly. "Show me."

She pushed the sleeve back.

The dark coils wound from her fingers, around her wrist, and beneath the fabric covering her forearm. In the hallway light, the mark looked even darker than it had that morning, the lines settled into her skin with a permanence that made her stomach turn.

Vlad did not touch her.

His face went still.

"What is it?" Rachel asked, though she already knew enough to be afraid of the answer.

"A bonding mark."

"Darius said it was incomplete."

"Darius was right."

"It wasn't a choice."

Vlad's eyes lifted to hers.

The fury in them shifted into something colder. "Tell me what happened."

Rachel hugged her arm to her chest. "I don't know."

"Do not insult me."

"I saw ice," she said, the words rushing out before she could stop them. "A waterfall. A wall. Something behind it. He reached through."

Vlad's face drained of expression.

Rachel's voice dropped. "He said we would be together again."

For several seconds, Vlad said nothing, and the silence frightened her more than his anger had.

Then he looked toward the apartment door. "You are coming with me."

"I'm not your prisoner."

"No," he said. "You are becoming everyone's target."

Rachel flinched.

He did not soften the words. "The police will return. The leech has power he should never have gained. Darius is weakened because of you. Myus is dead. And now the Abaddon has touched you through whatever barrier still keeps him from this world."

She swallowed. "I didn't ask for any of this."

"No. You stumbled into most of it with remarkable consistency."

The unfairness of that almost made her snap back, but the fight in her was wearing thin. Gabriel had told her to run. Darius had told her to go to Vlad. The police had found her at work. Beth's apartment was no longer safe. Her own body had become a door something ancient could knock against.

She pressed her fingers against the mark. "What happens if I go with you?"

"You live through the night."

"That's your pitch?"

"It is the only promise I can make honestly."

The apartment door opened, and Beth appeared with a plate in one hand and concern all over her face. Behind her, Adam stood close enough to intervene, his friendly expression dimmed by something watchful.

"Everything okay?" Beth asked.

Rachel turned to her and forced a smile that felt like it might crack her face. "I have to go."

Beth's face fell. "Already?"

"I'm sorry."

"Rach, you're scaring me."

"I know." Rachel stepped closer and took Beth's free hand, careful to keep the marked one covered. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Beth squeezed her fingers. "Then tell me what's happening."

Rachel could not. The truth would ruin Beth's life, and the lie felt crueller each time she used it.

"I'll call you," Rachel said.

Beth looked unconvinced. "From your actual phone? The one you keep ignoring?"

A broken little laugh escaped Rachel. "Probably not."

"That is not comforting."

Adam placed a hand gently on Beth's shoulder. "Give them tonight."

Beth glanced back at him, and something in her expression softened under the quiet pressure of his voice.

Rachel's eyes narrowed. "Adam."

He met her gaze, understanding the warning. "She will remember that you left because you were safe enough to leave. Nothing more."

Vlad's expression remained hard. "No more than that."

Adam inclined his head.

Beth blinked, her anxiety easing into confusion. "Right. Okay. You'll call me?"

Rachel's chest ached. "Yes."

It was a promise she did not know how to keep.

Vlad waited until Beth had stepped back into the apartment and Adam had closed the door before he moved toward the lift. Rachel followed him because every other direction led to someone who could be hurt.

The lift doors opened.

Inside the mirrored walls, Rachel saw herself beside him with her sleeves pulled low, her face too pale, her eyes too bright, and her bag clutched to her chest as if she had packed for a sleepover rather than exile.

Vlad pressed the button for the ground floor.

"What happened with Myus?" he asked.

Rachel stared at their reflections. "He tried to take my essence."

Vlad's hand curled at his side.

"I went to him because I needed answers about the Abaddon," she continued. "He told me things. Then my essence affected him. He changed. He became obsessed. I think he would have killed me."

"And?"

"And I fought back." Her voice thinned. "There was light. Power. I don't remember all of it. When I woke up, he was dead."

Vlad closed his eyes briefly.

"The leech was there," Rachel said.

His eyes opened.

"He fed on what was left of Myus. Then he took a body from him."

The lift descended in silence.

Rachel looked at him. "Say something."

"You have given the leech a gift beyond measure."

"I didn't give him anything."

"You led him to Myus."

"I was trying not to die."

Vlad turned on her then, his restraint cracking enough for the air in the lift to feel colder. "Myus had survived centuries because he understood every bargain he made. He was vile, useful, and dangerous in proportions that made him worth tolerating. Now his knowledge is gone, and the creature who drained him may have taken more than his body."

Rachel's eyes burned. "So this is my fault."

"This is the consequence of choices made without understanding."

"That sounds like a yes."

The lift doors opened onto the foyer before he answered.

A driver waited outside the building beside a black Mercedes that was not the car Rachel had taken from Myus's cottage. This one was longer, newer, and polished so dark it reflected the streetlights like water. The driver opened the rear door as Vlad guided her toward it.

Rachel stopped. "Where are we going?"

"South."

"That is not an answer."

"The Southern Highlands," Vlad said. "Far enough from the city to make it inconvenient for humans, close enough for me to return if needed."

She looked back at Beth's building. "What about my things?"

"You have what you need for tonight."

"What about my apartment?"

"It will be watched."

"The police?"

"Perhaps. Or something worse, if the Abaddon's mark can be sensed by the wrong creatures."

Rachel's stomach tightened.

The driver waited without looking at her.

Vlad's voice lowered. "Get in the car, Rachel."

She wanted to refuse. The urge rose out of pride more than sense, brittle and useless, but the street suddenly felt too open, full of windows, cameras, passing headlights and strangers who might not all be human. Beth was upstairs, already too close to the blast radius of Rachel's life. Gabriel's warning echoed through her.

That life may already be gone.

Rachel climbed into the car.

Vlad got in beside her, and the driver closed the door.

The leather smelled expensive and cold. As the car pulled away from the kerb, Rachel watched Beth's building slide out of view and felt another piece of her life loosen behind her.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

The city thinned slowly, the traffic loosening into long stretches of road and scattered headlights. Rachel rested her head against the seat, fighting the exhaustion dragging at her bones. Wine, fear, blood hunger, and whatever the Abaddon had done to her all pulled in different directions until her body felt borrowed.

Vlad sat beside her, still as carved stone.

"You said Myus was useful," Rachel said at last. "Useful for what?"

"For knowledge." His gaze remained on the dark road beyond the glass. "Soul feeders are despised, yet Myus had access to places others avoided. Old memories. Buried bargains. Fragments of creatures who had died with secrets still inside them."

"He tried to take everything from me."

"I believe you."

The quiet answer unsettled her more than accusation would have.

Rachel turned toward him. "Then why are you angry with me?"

"Because believing you were attacked does not change what followed."

She looked down at her hands. "The leech said Myus was already dead when he found me."

"Then your power answered before your judgment did."

"That's not fair."

"No," Vlad said. "It is accurate."

She turned toward the window, anger rising because it was easier than guilt. "The leech fed on what was left of him. Then he took a body."

Vlad's face went still in the reflection of the glass.

Rachel looked back at him. "What does that mean?"

"It means the leech may have taken more than flesh."

"Myus's power?"

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps?"

"I do not know yet." His voice was controlled, which made it worse. "And that is the problem."

Rachel's fingers tightened in her lap. "Can the Abaddon be stopped?"

Vlad's gaze remained on the road. "You are not ready for that answer."

"That's convenient."

"It is merciful."

"I'm tired of everyone deciding what I can handle."

"Then stop proving you cannot handle the little you already know."

The words struck harder than she expected.

Vlad exhaled, and the edge in him softened by a fraction. "Tonight, you need shelter, sleep, and distance from the humans already looking for you. Tomorrow, when you are sober and less likely to run toward the nearest ancient monster for answers, we will discuss what can be discussed."

"You mean what you decide can be discussed."

"Yes."

Rachel glared at him, but the exhaustion dragged at her too heavily for the anger to last.

Outside the window, the city gave way to darker roads, sleeping suburbs, then open stretches where the land rolled under moonlight. Road signs began to name towns she had only ever passed on weekend trips or seen in glossy articles about vineyards, antique stores, and old estates tucked into misty hills.

The Southern Highlands.

The name settled into her thoughts as the car carried them farther from Sydney.

Rachel leaned back, fighting the sleep creeping over her. "Why didn't you tell me anything useful before?"

Vlad's gaze remained on the road. "Because you were determined not to listen."

"That is not fair either."

"No," he said. "That one may be unfair."

The admission surprised her enough to quiet the argument rising in her throat.

He turned his head, and in the dim light she saw something tired beneath his anger. "You disturb things in me I buried for a reason. Desire, anger, instinct, memory. I have not been as clear-minded around you as I should be."

Rachel looked at him for a long moment. "You could have helped me."

"Yes."

The admission hurt more than denial would have.

"I needed to know how to survive him," she said. "That's why I went to Myus."

"And if you had come to me, I might have told you survival is possible." Vlad's gaze dropped to the sleeve hiding the mark. "At a cost."

"What cost?"

He looked back to the road. "Not tonight."

"Vlad."

"Not tonight, Rachel."

The finality in his voice closed the conversation more effectively than anger.

The car slipped deeper into darkness, the hum of the road and the weight of wine making her eyelids heavy. She wanted to stay awake, to demand every answer he had kept from her, to ask about Myus, the leech, the Abaddon, the other Aphrodites, the mark, and the cost he refused to name. Instead, her body sank into the leather seat, too exhausted to hold the questions upright.

"Rest," Vlad said.

"I don't trust you enough to sleep."

"Then close your eyes out of spite."

A tired laugh escaped her despite herself.

The last thing she saw before sleep took her was Vlad watching the road with a face carved from grief and control.

When Rachel woke, the car had stopped.

The door opened, and cold night air spilled over her. She shifted toward it in confusion, still half tangled in sleep, and nearly tipped out before Vlad caught her by the arms.

"Did you do that on purpose?" she muttered, blinking up at him.

"If I had, you would already be on the ground."

"Comforting."

"Come."

He stepped back and offered his hand.

Rachel ignored it and climbed out on her own, though her legs wobbled enough to make the victory feel hollow. The air smelled of damp earth, old trees, and distant rain. Above her, the sky stretched wider than it ever did in the city, crowded with stars dimmed by drifting cloud.

The house stood at the end of a long gravel drive, its sandstone walls pale beneath the moonlight and its windows glowing in scattered patches through the dark. It had the solemn elegance of something built to outlast generations, with deep verandas, tall chimneys, and gardens that vanished into shadow. Beyond the lawn, old trees bent over the grounds, their branches moving gently in the night wind.

Rachel hugged herself against the cold. "This is yours?"

"One of mine."

"Of course it is."

Vlad walked toward the entrance. "You sound irritated."

"I'm discovering that ancient creatures with secret estates are hard to relate to."

"You stole one of my cars."

"You have several."

"That was not permission."

She followed him up the stone steps because the driveway behind her stretched into darkness, and because, despite everything, walking beside Vlad felt safer than standing alone under the open sky.

Inside, the house opened into a vast foyer with polished timber floors, high ceilings, and a double staircase framed by white balustrades against colonial blue walls. The space smelled faintly of beeswax, old wood, and flowers Rachel could not see. Paintings lined the walls, their gilded frames catching the light from antique sconces, and every detail looked cared for with the obsessive devotion of someone who had watched centuries turn houses into ruins.

The grandeur did not match the version of Vlad she knew.

Or perhaps it did, and she had only seen too little of him.

Her attention caught on a portrait near the staircase. A woman stood in the painted foyer, dressed in a gown from another century, her dark hair arranged high and her face turned slightly toward the viewer. Around her wrist was a gold bracelet.

Rachel stepped closer before she realised she had moved.

The bracelet had been painted with care, the inscription tiny but legible beneath the sheen of gold.

Love conquers all.

The words tightened something in Rachel's chest.

"Who is she?" Rachel asked.

Vlad did not answer from behind her.

Rachel was caught off guard by his unexpected return, and she startled as she turned from the portrait.

"I'm sorry," Vlad said, a faint grin touching his mouth. "You remember Estella. She will show you to your room. You need rest."

Rachel's gaze shifted to the woman beside him.

Estella.

The name moved through her with the taste of blood. Estella's blood, bright and powerful on her tongue. Estella's fangs at her finger. Estella watching her with that same unsettling mix of curiosity and amusement.

Estella reached out for Rachel's arm.

Rachel recoiled, uneasy at the thought of being led away by her in this vast, unfamiliar mansion. She retreated until her back met the wall and caught the glimmer of amusement on Vlad's face.

"You are more afraid of her?" Vlad remarked. "You are a strange creature."

Rachel looked from Estella to Vlad. "She has bitten me before."

Estella smiled. "Only a little."

"That does not make it better."

Vlad shook his head, still faintly amused. "Go with her. The house is secure, and you need sleep before you start another war in my foyer."

"I don't want to be taken anywhere."

"You are being shown to a room," he said. "Try not to turn it into a siege."

Estella lowered her offered hand. "I won't touch you. Come. The room is ready, and you look as though the floor may claim you if we talk much longer."

Rachel followed her because Vlad stayed behind, and because Estella's presence felt less like a threat than a mystery waiting in a dress.

They moved through long corridors lined with paintings, old mirrors, and narrow tables holding flowers in cut glass vases. Automatic lights glowed softly ahead of them as they walked, revealing runner rugs, carved doorframes, and windows that showed only darkness beyond the glass. The floorboards creaked beneath Rachel's feet, each sound reminding her how far she was from apartments, elevators, traffic, and everything she had thought belonged to her life.

"How do you know Vlad?" Rachel asked.

Estella glanced back. "That story is old enough to make you sleep standing up."

"I'm not sure I can sleep."

"You will. Shock has a way of making its demands."

They stopped outside a bedroom near the end of the corridor. Estella opened the door and switched on a lamp, filling the room with a warm amber glow. The space was beautiful in a restrained way, with a large bed dressed in white linen, dark timber furniture, heavy blue curtains, and a gold framed mirror above a small writing desk. A vase of pale flowers sat beside the bed.

Rachel stepped inside.

"This is temporary," Estella said. "In the morning, you can bathe, eat, and decide how much you would like to fight everyone."

Rachel looked back. "Is that a warning?"

"It is experience." Estella's expression softened. "Vlad keeps his monsters on short leashes until he knows whether they are monsters."

"I'm not his monster."

"No," Estella said. "I suspect that is part of the problem."

Before Rachel could answer, Estella stepped into the hallway. "Rest now. The house is old, the night is older, and no good decision has ever been made by a starving, frightened creature after midnight."

The door closed.

Rachel stood still until Estella's footsteps faded.

Then she tried the handle.

Locked.

Her chest tightened. She crossed to the window, pulled back the heavy curtain, and found old glass fixed in place, the frame sealed or painted shut. Beyond it, the grounds stretched into darkness, silvered at the edges by moonlight.

Protection and captivity sat too close together for comfort.

Rachel sank onto the edge of the bed. Slowly, she pushed back her sleeve and looked at the mark coiled across her arm. The dark lines seemed deeper here, sharper against her skin, as if the old house and the old creatures inside it had drawn the truth closer to the surface.

The police were behind her. The leech had Myus's power. Darius had almost died because of her. Beth was no longer untouched by Rachel's world. Somewhere beyond whatever barrier still held him back, the Abaddon knew where to reach.

Rachel lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling while the mark burned softly beneath her fingers.

Vlad might have brought her somewhere hidden in the Southern Highlands, behind old walls and locked doors and all the wealth centuries could gather, but against the thing that had touched her through the ice, there was no place in the world that truly felt safe.