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Hector stared at the names on the slip of paper in shock for several minutes as he tried to understand why his Great Uncle would violate so many of their long-held rules by putting together this list of targets.

What was even more puzzling was the cruel poison that he was being asked to use.

It was one thing to target women and children, but to use such a horrific method. ..

"Great Uncle," Hector said slowly as he looked from the paper to Marcel’s perfectly calm face. "Is this personal? Or professional?"

Over the decades since Marcel had taken over the family business, the vampire slowly carved sharp lines between different parts of his small commercial empire.

Half of the business belonged entirely to his nephews and their descendants, and the only service they provided to Marcel and his Mistress was to act as a listening point, passively collecting information and functioning as places of safe haven when Marcel himself needed to travel.

Nestled alongside those businesses was a network of people whom Marcel employed to conduct ’personal business,’ either for himself or for Mistress Nyrielle.

He cared little for the profits and losses of those enterprises, so long as they provided opportunities to influence the human world and undermine their enemies, they served their purpose as tools of the Black Merchant.

However, there was a third branch of Marcel’s business empire, one which provided not only a substantial source of funding for his operations but also served as a training ground for people who worked on ’personal business.

’ The ’professional services’ that Marcel offered to a very exclusive list of clients included everything from smuggling to the sale of ’demon artifacts’ and even assassination.

Hector and his cousin Jean both belonged to this arm of the family business, though they were unique in that they knew their employer’s true identity.

To anyone outside the family, Marcel was simply the Black Merchant, and even those who had met him in person believed that Marcel was only a mouthpiece for an older, wiser master who refused to be seen in public.

But Hector knew full well who his employer was, and he knew Marcel’s unspoken rules about the professional jobs they would and wouldn’t take, and the three names on this list violated several of those rules.

"This is professional," Marcell said, leaning back in his chair and spinning a steel-tipped pen between his fingers. "And it’s personal. The client is Owain Lothian, and he’s the one who picked the poison and the targets.

The chest of gold and jewels he sent along with his request must have set his personal accounts back by a number of years, and the favors he was willing to trade for your services are even more priceless. "

"Lord Owain?" Hector said, blinking in surprise. "He wants us to use Spider Demon venom on a member of his own family? Why?"

"It doesn’t matter why," Marcel said, shaking his head at the young man’s question. Hector had grown into a very capable tool who was excellent at what he did, but in terms of his ability to analyze the situation beyond what was immediately in front of him, he was still far too lacking.

"What matters is that doing this weakens Mistress Nyrielle’s enemies and Lady Ashlynn’s enemies," the vampire explained.

"It gives us a chance to fracture the Lothian family at a time when they’re still consolidating their power to launch a Holy War.

Besides, even if you succeed in your mission, the man may still survive.

The Church is too invested in this Holy War to allow one of their partners to die easily.

They may send one of their great healers to save such an important person. "

"But you always told me that the Lothian family couldn’t be touched," Hector said, frowning in confusion. "And if we use Spider Demon venom, it’s certain to provoke them into lashing out at the Vale of Mists or kicking off one of their ’Great Hunts’ to slaughter helpless villages. Why take the risk now?"

"Because it no longer matters whether we provoke them or not," Marcel said with a heavy sigh.

"The Church does all of its thinking in the Holy City near the Royal Capital.

.. or it takes its instructions from across the sea.

The Church wants this Holy War to happen, so whether or not the Lothians are stirred up, the Church will push them forward. "

"To us, the Lothians are like local kings," Marcell said, gesturing at a faded map pinned on the wall.

"None of the dukes have sent men to fight alongside the Lothians for two generations. Other than a few fortune seekers, bastards, and mercenaries, all we’ve had to worry about is this one Marquis and his vassals. "

"But the Church is different," Hector said as he began to see where his great-uncle was going. "We think of the Lothians as mighty rulers, but the Church sits above dozens of men like Marquis Bors. If a family like the Lothians falls because the Church pushed them into a war while the family was in turmoil, they’ll just look for a new puppet to put in the Lothians’ place. "

"Exactly!" Marcel said, smiling brightly at the young man and flashing a hint of fangs.

"Normally, the Lothians are untouchable because we don’t want to provoke a sleeping bear, but in this case, the Church has provoked them for us.

That means we can move more directly without as much fear of the consequences. "

"But if I get caught..."

"If you get caught," Marcel said, his voice suddenly much closer than it had been a heartbeat before. Hector hadn’t seen him move, he hadn’t even registered a blur of motion, yet suddenly his great-uncle stood behind him, his cool hands resting on his shoulders with a firmness that shouldn’t belong to such slender, delicate fingers.

For a moment, the vampire’s presence enveloped him like a physical thing, summoning a set of warring desires in his heart as he felt Marcel’s cool breath against the back of his neck.

At the back of his mind, something primal urged him to flee, to run as far and as fast as he could before this deadly creature of the night could sink his fangs into him.

Another part of him, however, responded in exactly the opposite way, yearning to surrender to the darkness, to fall back into Marcel’s embrace and submit completely.

His heartbeat quickened, sounding thunderous in his ears as Marcel leaned closer, enveloping Hector in the scent of night air and the faintest trace of sweet-smelling, expensive perfume that momentarily clouded his mind.

"Then I lose a precious family member who matters to me far more than this mission is worth," Marcel continued, in a voice as soft as velvet that wrapped around Hector’s mind like a warm embrace, instantly easing his fears and melting the tension from his shoulders.

"Vengeance is worthless if you can’t savor a luxurious life while you dance on the graves of your enemies," Marcel said, sounding much older than someone with his youthful appearance should.

"No matter how much we hate someone, no matter how much they deserve death, I won’t throw your life away over something petty. "

"I won’t," Hector said, feeling suddenly awkward at his great-uncle’s closeness and the clear affection in his voice when he spoke. At times like this, he had to remind himself that Marcel was three times his age and hardly the pretty young dandy that he appeared to be.

Still, when he stood so close, his presence was intense enough to overwhelm the senses and leave even the most womanizing of men wondering if they might be at least a little bent.

Normally, Marcel contained his dark, seductive aura well, but clearly the thought of his beloved great-nephew coming to harm had disturbed him more than he let on for his power to radiate so intensely that it overwhelmed Hector in an instant.

"What, what about the other two? The woman and the child," Hector said, trying to hide his discomfort behind business. "Usually you won’t accept a contract on women unless they’ve done something extraordinarily vile, and I’ve never seen you accept a contract for the life of a child."

"These two are different." Marcel said, returning to his desk and drawing a deep, calming breath as he realized that he’d allowed his agitation to affect Hector in ways that were sure to be uncomfortable for the young man. "They’re the wife and child of Sir Tommin Pyre. He’s one of two knights who buried Lady Ashlynn in a shallow grave after Owain Lothian tried to murder her," he said, stunning his great-nephew.

"Sir Broll was the other knight that Lord Owain sent to clean up his mess and bury the evidence of his crime.

Lady Ashlynn killed him personally last spring. "

"So you’re willing to take this job because Lady Ashlynn wants revenge on Sir Tommin?" Hector asked. "She wants his family to suffer before she has her revenge on Sir Tommin himself?"

"Lady Ashlynn doesn’t even know about this yet," Marcel said, shaking his head.

"I’ll tell her in a few days at the banquet.

Lord Owain wants these two to suffer before they die because he doubts that the Church will move to save them, even for a Templar as promising as Sir Tommin.

Owain wants Tommin to feel like the Church he ran to has betrayed him, just like Owain feels like Tommin betrayed him. "

"But if Lady Ashlynn doesn’t want to kill Tommin’s wife and child..." Hector began to ask, his voice trailing off as he raised an eyebrow at the vampire.

"The venom of the Nightweaver Clan is deadly to humans, and it resists the healing techniques of the Church because its power is rooted in darkness and the night," Marcel answered.

"But Lady Ashlynn is the Mother of Trees.

Purging their bodies of Nightweaver venom should be easy enough for her or the Willow Witch, Heila. "

"That’s why you can go ahead and poison them," Marcel said, his smile turning dark and predatory.

"Lord Owain will consider our end of the bargain kept, but if the mother and child vanish later, that has nothing to do with us, does it?

They may have to shelter in the Vale of Mists for a period of time, but if Lady Ashlynn wishes them to live, then they will live well in the Vale. "

"And if Lady Ashlynn wishes them to die," Marcell concluded, sinking into the shadows of his office. "Then nothing in this world can save their lives."