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Neither of my parents were equipped to deal with me. I wasn’t the way I was because ofthem.

My father’s family made their fortune in New York. When the youngest son—my grandfather—married a witch, he wasdisowned, so his new wife murdered the rest of the family, until the money reverted back to him. Well, officially, they happened to all die in mysterious circumstances and no suspect was ever found, but that in itself is telling. In short, the Valescos were rich.

They moved to Highvale thirty-five years ago, with a wave of paranormal creatures fleeing the rest of the world. Learning about the existence of magic and those able to use it did not go down well with most humans for a time. As new bloods, as the city calls us, the Valescos sought to ally with an existing Highvale family.

They decided to wed their son Leander to Zenya Pendros, a talented white witch of a line descended from the first inhabitants of our city.

I inherited a drop of magic from the Valesco side—a witch grandmother, without much talent other than for efficient poisons. She instilled in me a taste for brewing magic as a child, though I wasn’t very good at it.

As for my mother, she and I didn’t have much in common. The Pendroses weren’t one of the five founders. That title was reserved for those who had been directly sired by one of the gods who founded Highvale.

There were one of the twenty-seven noble lines and my mother’s family was one of them. Well respected in town, they were known for an affinity to light magic—a combination of air and fire. My mother could literally summon the sun, and control the sky to an extent during the day.

I’d never shown a tendency for either skill. She was powerful in her own right, but nothing like me.

In fact, for my first seven years, it was understood that I would be a pretty, useful daughter of two important politicians, but nothing much more than that. Not a powerful witch. Not apowerful anything. My mother had my debut planned and a long line of suitors drafted before I could handle long division.

Thenithappened.

My father cried. My mother screamed herself hoarse. And I learned to mask what I could so they wouldn’t worry. Or punish me. Or tell me to change myself back into the kid they gave birth to.

I couldn’t.

And quite frankly? I didn’t want to.

“I always need to drain myself,” I confessed.

Silver didn’t judge. Or rather, she was extremely judgmental, but never towards me.

Without a single question, she removed her pendant and slid it across the desk. “Have at it.”

I gratefully took it, imbuing it with as much magic as I could without risking the integrity of the stone, before tossing it back to her. I couldn’t aim, but she could certainly catch.

Smiling, she tucked it back in her shirt. “God, that’s a buzz and a half. No wonder some people get addicted to magic. So, what are you studying?”

I hesitated. I trusted Silver more than anyone else in my life, even Gideon. If he was concerned about me, my cousin would tell his mother, who’d tell my father, and then, I’d never hear the end of it. Silver wouldn’t babble to my parents, and would do what she could to help. But she would also freak, then barge into the town square demanding to know who dared attack her bestie, like the tactless bull she was.

“Nothing. Just runes.”

That was believable enough. It was a well-known fact that I adored runic languages. So much it got me into a world of trouble already.

Bored, she lay back on her seat. “Wake me up when you’re done. It’s late. I’ll walk you home.”

I grinned. Anyone would laugh at the idea of the five-foot-one girl as a self-appointed bodyguard. Right up until she grabbed them by the throat and tossed them over her shoulder without breaking a sweat.

6

LUCIAN

“To your left, you great baboon!” I screamed before deflecting the flash of sharp fangs from the idiotic fledgling coming directly for my throat.

How,by the wisdom of Athena herself, was it possible for a man to be blind enough to miss the big, great chasm created by one of the dozen artifacts flying around the room? Which one, I wasn’t sure yet.

Gideon’s great frame wobbled right over the fissure leading to the end of the bloody planet or another world—I didn’t know, and refused to find out.

The vampires themselves weren’t much of a problem. They were fast, yes, and there were many of them in the cramped, abandoned townhouse—apparently no one told them vamps weren’t video-game zombies—but none of them seemed to understand their own power. The biggest issue was keeping them in the house; we couldn’t let them escape and risk creating another infestation of ferals, hence why we approached during the day, when they’d be trapped inside. Still, there was a chance they’d make a dash for it if we let them.

But the artifacts they’d kept around the place? That was another story. Traps worthy of an Egyptian tomb, mimics,cursed blades, arrows with poisoned tips like those of Hercules himself—perhaps those of Hercules, come to think of it. There were coffers positively filled with treasures as dangerous as they were priceless in every room.