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“Lachlan really needs to give me a clothing allowance at this point.”

My brain stuttered at that. She cared more about her clothes than her boyfriend, fuck buddy, whatever, was laying right here dying? I bolted out of the room and slid to a halt an eye-blink later in the Rec Room. All heads turned as I had to catch myself on the door before I crashed.

“Lachlan’s dead.” I blurted.

“What?” Shaw was on his feet.

“Aurora brought him back. I think he’s overdosing.”

“Oooo, on what?” Gonzo asked excitedly.

“She said Heroin.”

“Probably good choice for him.” Zinnia muttered over her papers.

Shaw sat back down. No one seemed concerned that a person was overdosing right under their roof.

“What the hell is wrong with everyone? He’s going to die.”

Bisou came over and patted my arm gently, giving me a half hug. “Tiffany, sweetie, he already died.”

“He… he could aspirate! Suffocate and die!”

“Hardly.”

“We should go watch! Test out my theory!” Richard said, elbowing Zinnia, who refused to pay attention.

“Richard, I’ve told you, all suffocation does is give you brain damage. And brain damage takes forever to heal from. Develop a breath play kink and figure it out for yourself.” Shaw said as he took the papers out of Zinnia’s hands.

“Yeah, butThe Old Guardproblem. So, say you’re dumped overboard in an iron casket…”

“You’d be unconscious until the microbes and fish ate…”

“Yeah, but how long would you actually be aware…”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey! Lachlan is dying!” I flung my arm toward our rooms.

Shaw lowered the papers he was reading and I swear, if he was wearing glasses, he’d be looking down at me over the rim. “Princess,” his tone was condescending, “Lachlan has been an addict for a good half century at least. I’m sure he’s OD’ed a hundred times. He’s a vampire. Drugs can’t kill vampires. He’s fine.”

“What do you meanaddict?”

“The club kid Molly OD’s in the 90.”

“You mean fucking them or fucking them up?”

“Same difference.”

“Zinnia, that was Juliet.” Shaw went back to reading.

“You’d think he killed his maker himself the way he’s going on about it, like a big baby.” A smack echoed through the room before Gonzo had even finished the sentence.

“You keep your mouth shut about things you can’t possibly comprehend.” Real anger flashed in Shaw’s eyes, his voice dark and sharp. “Not one of you is to ever joke again about a Scion losing his maker.” The icy silence that filled the room had a weight to it that ground everyone down.

Gonzo muttered an apology while rubbing his cheek. I took a few steps back, actually scared. Did all vampires telegraph their auras like this?

“The Scion bond isn’t a fucking joke. And not one of you will ever experience it. Losing that bond, that grief, that’s a physical disability. It’s crippling. It’s not a bad mood that you just have to get over. Scions rarely survive their maker’s death. Their suicides are always spectacular. And there’s no amount of drugs or meaningless sex that makes that pain end. Ever.” The room was cowed. “So fuckThe Old Guardand an iron casket. There are worse things that could happen to a vampire.”

That one sentence gave me shivers. I knew for a fact I’d hear it again in my dreams.