Page 23

Times will change.”

Silence.

Ares slowly lowers the journal. No one speaks for a long moment.

"Fuck. He’s talking about living in Roter Himmel," Juliet finally says, her voice quiet but sharp, like her throat is tight. "Only… only Royals live in that town. The court. The castle. He couldn’t live there unless he was one of them."

I see it as Roman’s fingers curl into fists. His shoulders tense, the muscles in his jaw flex. “That would make Thaddeus a Royal."

Oh shit. Oh, oh shit. “Correct me if I’m wrong; we’re still figuring out the whole insanity of Royal vampires, but if James has this journal, and they share the same last name…

” My brain is spinning, all of the implications tumbling through it at once.

“That means James isn’t just some assistant.

He’s from that bloodline. He’s a fucking Royal. "

Juliet’s expression darkens. "Which means he had something very specific in mind when he came to New York. This wasn’t about finding a job. He could have lived a cushy life in Roter Himmel. It would have had to be something damn important to pull him away from that."

“James said his father moved around a lot,” Ares notes. “I never got the impression that he was lying about that, even looking back on it, knowing he wasn’t being upfront about things. The way he talked, I didn’t get the impression that his father would have lived in Roter Himmel.”

“James did say he lived in Europe before he came here,” I point out. “Roter Himmel is in Austria, right?”

Juliet nods in affirmation.

“Fuck,” Ares says as he runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t like this. I feel so… played.”

“Keep reading,” Roman says.

I take the journal from Ares and turn to the next page.

“The sea is worse than I expected.

The constant rocking. The cramped quarters. I could have spent more and gotten a bigger cabin, but I only managed to steal so much to bring with me, and I need the funds to survive while I search.

The King called for entertainment, and all of Roter Himmel came.

He loves his games. So, while the entirety of the court watched his orchestration, I took my chance.

I started digging. And digging. I worried at first that I was mistaken about this being his resting place, I had to dig so deep.

He’s been buried so long I wasn’t sure there would even be anything left to exhume.

But I finally found it.

His bones.

One by one, I collected them and placed them in the chest. They are in poor condition, but I will have to have faith that it will be enough.

I felt the power as I touched each of his bones, as if history was whispering to me.

They themselves hold secrets and vision.

I counted it an honor to touch them. To be the first in his presence in nearly two millennia.

I found the proof I needed in an old book. They exist. It has happened before. The dead rose. And I was putting my life at risk just by asking, but I got what I needed. There is talk of a necromancer in New York, in America.

So, to America, I travel now. I know what I’ve given up. An easy life in Roter Himmel. My connections to the Royals. The backing of the King.

But to make the Blood Father rise once again, to change the world, I will do anything necessary.”

There are exactly three heartbeats that thud in my chest before the reality of what I just read lands like an anvil in the room.

“Holy shit,” Roman barks as he scrubs a hand over his face.

“He was digging up the damn Blood Father? The man who tried to take over the damn world with vampires? The asshole who slept around with any woman he could find so he could create a whole brood of children? The one who went to war with Cyrus and somehow lost?”

“Holy fucking shit,” the words breathe out over my lips.

James himself told us about the Blood Father.

About all the history of vampires. James is the one who told us about King Cyrus and his reincarnating wife, Sevan.

But he also told us about the Blood Father.

He tried to step into the light with vampires.

The whole population of vampires exists because of that man.

A man who took lovers and bred them. A man who went to war with the intent to take control.

“As far as enemies go, they literally don’t come worse than this,” Juliet says.

Her voice is shaking. For the first time, I see a spark of fear in her eyes.

“If the Blood Father were to come back, it would literally change the entire world. Humans… oh, it would be so bad for them. Everything, everything would be so different.”

“But it must not have worked,” Ares points out. He’s so level, so calm when the rest of us are about to freak out. But I have a feeling it’s because he still doesn’t know much of this history. “The world isn’t run by vampires. Humans aren’t enslaved to us. So, it must not have worked.”

“Keep reading,” Juliet says, biting at the corner of her thumb nervously as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

I turn the page and read from the next entry.

“June 12, 1926

New York is loud. Louder than I imagined. And the amount of people around, all the time, is mind-boggling. They are everywhere, at all times.

I’ve secured a room. It isn’t much. There is no quiet. There is a strange smell that comes from the floor below me. But it is private, and it will do while I search.

The necromancer I seek remains elusive. I’ve heard whispers, rumors, but no one can give me a name. I expected this task could take weeks—perhaps a month—but already it has been six weeks, and I have no leads.

The bones weigh heavily on me. Not in the physical sense, though the chest is no small burden. It’s the dreams. The things I see when I close my eyes. I feel the breath of something ancient in my room, watching. Always watching.

This city is full of unholy noise, but none of it compares to the silence that settles when I open the chest. They hum, the bones. They hum with power I don’t understand. But I must consider it an honor to guard the Blood Father.”

“I have a bad feeling about where this is going,” I say. My stomach turns. My palms feel slick with sweat. All of the little pieces are starting to slide together.

“Keep going,” Juliet says as she slides her hand down her face with a groan.

I hand the journal back to Ares, who takes it with a sigh, flipping the page.

"The call of the Blood Father grows heavier by the day. I hear him whispering to me at night. I feel his urgency during the day. He haunts me every time I sleep. It feels as if the dreams are bleeding into my nights, too.

Even in waking hours, I feel the weight of the Blood Father’s will pressing into the back of my skull, a constant thrum that makes me forget my own thoughts.

I see glimpses of blood in reflections, ancient battlegrounds in my tea, and voices that do not belong to this century whispering truths I do not want to know.

He is reaching for me, begging for me to hurry.

But it has been two more months, and still, I cannot find confirmation of the necromancer. I don’t know who else to ask. I feel as if I have talked to everyone by this point; the whole of New York seems to think me a lunatic by this point, the man who seeks the one who can raise the dead.

I must be careful. The necromancer may never appear, and I am the only person alive who knows the Blood Father no longer is buried in Roter Himmel.

I must guard that secret above all else.

I imagine if King Cyrus ever got wind of what I have done, he would grant me a fate a thousand times worse than death.

The man is maniacal. My punishment would be endless.

So, I must protect the bones.

But every day that passes, they steal my peace. They suck away my sanity.”

I swallow once and shake my head. “That’s creepy as fuck.”

“They were making him crazy,” Juliet says quietly. “How… how is that even possible? They were just bones. How could they… haunt him?”

“Don’t underestimate a curse,” Roman says darkly. “With what the man tried to do, it would be more surprising if a curse hadn’t attached itself to him.”

My eyes flick to Ares, who stares at Roman with trepidation.

I can’t imagine how all of this must feel.

Yes, he’s known about vampires since he was an older teenager.

But his world of vampires was more mafia-esque than curses and ancient bones.

This is an entirely different version of reality than he’s ever lived in.

“Ares, keep reading,” Roman encourages.

Ares clears his throat and turns the page once more.

“I can no longer keep the bones near. I hear his voice in every waking moment, and the urgency he presses upon me has nearly incapacitated me.

I will never find the necromancer with this chaos in my brain, in my soul.

I cannot keep them with me any longer. Not until I find the one who can awaken them.

I’ve found a construction site. The building is skeletal, but the foundation is strong. I’ll hide them within it. The city will grow, and it will never have any idea what rests beneath. But I will remember. I will always remember where they are."

“Oh my gosh,” I breathe. “That has to be it. The timeframe, I bet James dug into it, and that’s why he came to work for you, Ares. The Blood Father was hidden in one of your buildings.”

“Finish it,” Roman growls, pressing past what I just said. The urgency in the room doubles, and my heart starts pounding as we begin to understand.

I lean over Ares shoulder as he turns to the next passage. The handwriting is erratic, ink splattered and smeared. It’s as if he wrote it in haste… or desperation.

“November 21, 1926

I am out of coin. The city bleeds me dry. Food, lodging, bribes for information—all of it devours what little I carried across the sea. I thought America would be easier. But this place has its own breed of cruelty.