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“Yes?”

“You mentioned an accent. Was it Scottish?”

“Scottish?” He sounded surprised. “No, no. It was European. More like French, I’d say. Maybe Italian?”

“I need you to be sure, Dad.”

“French, then. But… unusual.”

I frowned. I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, but it wasn’t that.

“Okay, thanks. I’ll call again soon, yeah? When I’ve got moreto tell you.” I hesitated. “In the meantime – you know the drill.”

“Alright. Your mum says hello,” he added, and I rolled my eyes. “And stay safe. You can’t protect anyone if you’re dead.”

My laughter sounded false even to me. “I know.”

I hung up, the others watching me expectantly. Nicholas and Isabel must have heard, but Adam waved a hand at me.

“French,” I said. Adam’s eyebrow arched as he shot Nicholas a meaningful look. He picked up a diary he’d discarded, fingers drumming against the leather cover as he rechecked the date.

“How much does your family know about you, Erin?” Isabel asked, exchanging the diary she’d been holding for another.

I shrugged. “My dad’s always known I could recognise the… otherworldly.” My mouth formed the word without thinking, though it never seemed like the right word, anyway. Vampires were definitely a part ofthisworld, in my experience. “I told him a lot when I was younger, and he always believed me – at least, he never tried to refer me to a psychiatrist,” I chuckled, remembering.

“My mum was less understanding, so eventually I stopped mentioning it. They don’t know everything, but my dad’s perceptive enough not to ask.”

Isabel nodded, her gaze far away. “It is fortunate you can rely on your family, even a little.” Collecting herself, she added: “Now, this French accent. Might it be a regional dialect? Perhaps Breton?”

I considered her words as I reached for a diary at random – it was an odd thing to say, though admittedly I knew nothingabout Isabel’s family. Through all the research Tom and I had done, we’d never found out much about her life as a human. We knew she’d been born during the reign of Henry the Eighth, but even that was more of a guess. There was a lot we still didn’t know.

Nicholas leaned in close as I flicked through the pages, his voice low and velvety in my ear. “Well, I happen to think you’re quite the huntress.”

I tried not to glance at him. “And when have you seen me in action, exactly?”

He chuckled quietly. “That night in the park wasnae the first time I saw you. I prefer to do a wee bit o’ hands-on research where I can.”

Well, you missed that one, Erin.

“The way ye move when ye fight… there’s a sweet surrender in it,” he whispered, his breath cool against my ear. “Makes me wonder how ye might’ve surrendered if I hadnae stopped us earlier.”

Heat rose to my cheeks as I remembered how I’d lost control in the attic, and I snapped the diary closed. Isabel shot him a loaded look from across the table, but Nicholas merely offered her an innocent smile.

“Our time in the Paris apartment at the turn of the century – was that the sole time you spent in France?” Adam asked Nicholas, oblivious to our quiet conversation.

“No.” He was all business again. “I was in the capital during the Great Wars, o’ course. And I remember some time in the 1790s, I think, but no for verra long.” Nicholas pushed to hisfeet, and I felt the sudden coolness where his leg had been pressed against mine. He walked around to where Isabel was sitting and plucked the diary she was reading from her hands.

Isabel snatched it back from him with a glare. I wondered, briefly, what it contained.

“What do you mean, you think?” I wondered out loud. “I thought you guys remembered… well, everything.” At least, that’s how it seemed with Solace.

“No, love.” Nicholas shook his head. “Our memories are no more infallible than yours. There’s more to remember, aye, but over time the details fade. Only the significant events remain, just as they do for you.”

“For example, most vampires remember their first kill. The deaths of friends and family. People they sired.” Isabel explained. “Did you change anyone in Paris, Nick?”

His eyes found mine, and something vulnerable flickered across his face. “I couldnae say,” he said finally. I shifted in my seat as he added, “Mayhap one or two.”

The careful way he said it, trying to soften the truth for my sake, somehow made it worse.