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Abe gestures toward the seating area. “Let’s discuss this properly. With drinks.” He moves to the bar cart, withdrawing glasses and a decanter filled with dark red liquid. “Blood wine for those who want it. I imagine you need it, Callahan, after breaking a blood compulsion.”

“I just fed, actually.”

“Oh?” he says, a brow raised as he looks curiously at Lena.

We arrange ourselves in the living room—Lena and I on the couch, the others in chairs positioned to form a loose circle. Abe distributes glasses to Ezra and Valtu. I may be a PI who likes to drink, but even I couldn’t drink red wine for breakfast.

“Tell us everything,” Abe says, settling into his chair with his own glass. “From the beginning.”

So I do. I tell them about waking restrained in Dmitri’s underground chamber. About his revelation that I’m his son, given up as part of some twisted experiment in vampire nature. About Catherine’s death, orchestrated to free me for his plans. About his confession that I was the one who took Elizabeth Short to him, who completed the ritual by draining her blood.

Throughout my recitation, the vampires remain silent, their expressions growing grimmer with each revelation. Only Lenaoffers any comfort, her hand steady in mine despite the horrors I describe.

“And then he compelled you to bring Lena to him,” Abe prompts when I pause. “How did he do it?”

“His voice,” I say, struggling to describe the sensation. “It was like it got inside my head, overrode everything else. I fought it at first, but then…it was like drowning. My consciousness went under, and something else took control. Compulsion like nothing else.” I look down at my hands, remembering the mindless determination that drove me here. “I tracked her by scent, by instinct. Nothing else mattered. Just fulfilling his command.”

“Blood compulsion,” Adonis says, exchanging a meaningful look with Abe. “It’s an old power, rarely seen these days. The ability of a sire to command progeny.”

“Can he do it again?” I ask, the question I’ve been dreading. “Take control whenever he wants?”

Abe sets down his glass, his expression thoughtful. “Not easily, and not from a distance. You broke free once, which makes subsequent compulsions harder to maintain. And the blood exchange with Lena seems to have created a competing bond.”

“So I’m just supposed to hope it holds?” The frustration in my voice is palpable. “Hope I don’t turn back into his puppet the moment he gets close enough?”

“No,” Abe says firmly. “We’re going to help you strengthen your resistance. There are techniques that can help integrate your dual natures, make you less susceptible to outside influence.”

“Amalgamation, you mean,” I say. “Making peace with the monster inside me.”

“Not a monster,” Adonis corrects. “Just another aspect of yourself. The predator, yes, but not necessarily the killer. Those are choices, not nature.”

Ezra nods. “Your vampire self and your human self are at war. That’s what makes you vulnerable to Dmitri’s control. He can exploit the division, speak directly to the part of you that recognizes him as sire. If you were whole…”

“Then I’d be stronger,” I finish. “But how do I integrate something I’ve been fighting since it first emerged?”

“Acceptance,” Abe says simply. “Meditation. Rituals. And time, which unfortunately is the one thing we don’t have.” He rises, moving to a bookshelf against the far wall. “But we can at least begin the process. Make you less vulnerable when we face the Ivanovs again.”

He returns with a small wooden box. “Sit on the floor,” he instructs, gesturing to the open space before the fireplace. “Cross-legged, back straight.”

I obey, feeling a little silly as I settle into position, Abe kneeling opposite me. Lena moves to sit beside me, but Abe shakes his head.

“Not yet,” he tells her. “Your blood bond with him is strong, but it could become a crutch. He needs to find balance within himself first.”

She nods, reluctantly returning to the couch. Abe opens the box, removing a small crystal vial filled with dark liquid and a silver dagger with a bone handle.

“I shouldn’t have this. This is very old,” he explains, setting both items on the floor between us. “Older than the Ivanovs, some say older than Skarde himself. It’s meant to reconcile the divided self, to heal spiritual wounds.”

“How did you get that?” Lena asks.

He exchanges a look with Valtu. “You learn a few things over the years. Make friends with the right people.”

“You’ll feel vulnerable during the process,” Ezra warns me, moving to light candles around the room. “Open. It’s important that you not resist, no matter how uncomfortable it becomes.”

Great. More vulnerability is exactly what I need right now.

Abe uncorks the vial, tipping a single drop of its contents onto his finger. “Close your eyes,” he instructs, reaching forward to draw a symbol on my forehead.

The liquid burns against my skin, not painfully but with a strange, tingling heat that spreads through my skull. I feel my muscles relaxing without conscious effort, my breathing slowing to match Abe’s steady rhythm.