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  I was getting good at this.

  I rose to my feet, and straightened the fabric of my twisted tank, and took a step toward my fallen teacher.

  BANG.

  White-hot pain overtook my shoulder, radiated down through my limp arm. I looked, and saw the blood. Lots of blood.

  “Ouch,” I said.

  Violet pulled herself up from the broken wall, and holstered her pistol back into its strap. She shook her hair loose and rolled her neck.

  I frowned at the blood and watched dispassionately as the wound started to heal. “What the hell was that for?”

  “Never assume you’ve won until your opponent is dead,” she said.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “But I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

  “You should be,” she said with a smile, “otherwise you won’t be ready when someone really does.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Okay.” It was hard to look at that sweet smile and not see a friend.

  “Next time it could be—”

  “I know, I know,” I said. “It could be those pretty bluish-purpley bullets.”

  “And it could be someone you trust that turns on you,” she said. “Always be ready.”

  If I didn’t know better, I’d think that sounded like a threat. But I could trust Violet, just like I knew I could trust the Ulfhednar boys. We were a weird family in a way.

  “Got it,” I said, though I couldn’t imagine anyone actually betraying me, not anyone close, at least. It was good advice, even if I didn’t need it. Be prepared, don’t trust people, stay alive. I had the basics down.

  “Ready for round two?” Violet spread her feet, lowered her shoulders, and raised her blade.

  I looked down at my dangley arm, which felt pretty numb below the elbow.

  “Give me five, and let me wrap this,” I said. “Then we’ll go again.”

  Chapter Three

  Tyr

  Thirty years had passed since I’d last set foot anywhere, let alone Scarlet Harbor. It was only a blip in time. But the impact of one event, one day, could be world-changing. How different was the Scarlet Harbor of today from the one I left behind?

  My first instinct was to return to my home to my progeny at the Ulfhednar Estate. But with the Mongol king in my place, the reception would likely be less than welcoming. After thirty years, there was no way to know if Walter was even there anymore.

  I walked alongside the harbor to the one place I hoped had not changed hands.

  Bennet’s home was not unlike those that flanked it on either side, at least at first glance. It was two stories tall, and constructed of stone. But while his neighbors lived in sunlight, my progeny, like myself, thrived in darkness. Bennet kept the house above a shell, while he resided below, in a hidden, windowless basement. Or so it had been.

  I knocked on the door, and tried to ignore the uncertainty in my gut as I waited.

  It was likely that Bennet wouldn’t be there. It was just as likely that he’d blame me for any misfortune that had occurred in my absence. Rightfully so, as it was my choice not to fight, after all, that had led to Yeke Mongke’s rule.

  Locks clicked, and the door opened.

  Tall, yet not as tall as me, broad and fit—I recognized the man that greeted me, the one I searched for. Bennet looked different than I remembered—shorter hair, more casually dressed, and somehow more at ease. There was no self-loathing in his appearance, no disdain. The years that had passed had been kind to Bennet Pierce.

  His brown eyes were full of confusion, then recognition.

  “Bennet,” I said, just in time to be pulled in for an embrace I hadn’t expected. He hugged me hard, squeezing out any reservations I’d had.

  “It’s you,” he said, before releasing me. “How did you…how are you—”

  “May I come in?” I asked.

  He swung the door open wide, and gestured for me to enter.

  “Please do,” Bennet said.

  The house was nothing like I remembered, no longer a shell. In the years that had passed, it appeared Bennet decided to make the house a home, and furnished the place.

  Complementing the browns of the hardwood were warm cream shades on the walls and pillows. But it was the dark green seating that pulled everything together in a way that reminded me of a sunlit forest. It was classic, comfortable, and not what I would have expected from Bennet.

  I took a seat on the sofa, while Bennet took the big chair.

  “Your place, Bennet,” I said, “it looks very—”

  “You’re really here,” he said. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I’m here.”

  “You look so…”

  “Young?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Bennet said. “I hardly recognize you, Tyr. What happened to you? How did you get here? We searched for you. For years we searched.”

  His eyes were wide, still in disbelief. He leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees, waiting for explanation.

  “I appreciate that,” I said. “It was a fishing vessel that saved me.”

  It could have gone so differently. I could have been pulled up during sunlight. I could have been passed over by that net, just as I had been passed over by others.

  “Not one of the boats Walter chartered?” he asked.

  It was kind that they had looked for me for so long, though misguided. My presence here was a danger to my progenies, a threat to their lives by association. Mongke had spared them once, but a second time? Maybe it was a mistake to have returned.

  “No,” I replied. “I’m sorry I didn’t fight what happened.”

  “You couldn’t,” he said. “It wasn’t who you are. I understood it then, as I do now.”

  Of course Bennet understood. He was a gentle soul, more so when I’d first found him, but the proof of it remained. He was a kindred spirit, though our paths were different.

  “If only your brother were so understanding,” I said.

  “You haven’t seen Walter yet?” Bennet asked.

  “No,” I said. “I arrived this very night on a shipping container in the harbor. It was a week’s journey by boat, set up by an old friend in London.”

  “I see,” Bennet said. “We have to meet at the estate. All of us.”

  “Mongke-”

  “Yeke Mongke is dead,” Bennet said. “There’s so much you’ve missed, Tyr. Let me find you some clothes that fit, a pair of shoes. I’ll explain everything.”

  “Thank you,” I replied. It was so much, all at once, and apparently it was little compared to what had happened. If Mongke had been dethroned, Walter must have taken his place, my rightful heir. What would he think of my return? I was still unsure of what exactly I thought.

  Bennet rose from his seat and clasped my shoulder. “It’s good to have you home.”

  Chapter Four

  Ashley

  The doorbell rang—a pretty bell song that said she was here.

  I skipped down the hall, looking forward to seeing my bestie. Even though everything else had changed in the last few months, Hannah was my constant.

  Ronaldo reached the door before me, of course—like he would have let me open it anyway.

  Standing just outside in an oversized, thick, cream sweater and knee-high boots over her jeans, was Hannah Lewis, my college roommate, and all-around amazing person. With her wavy black hair and bright blue eyes, she was as gorgeous as she was smart. I probably would have hated her had I not gotten to know her, but it was impossible to hate Hannah.

  “Hey,” Hannah said, and peeked past Ronaldo and the door to see me.

  “Let her in,” I said.

  Ronaldo did as I bid, and let Hannah pass.

  “Hey, Hannah,” I said.

  My friend pulled me in for a hug, and I winced when she touched my shoulder.

  Hannah noticed and let go.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’m good. It’s just a bullet wound.”

  Hannah squin
ted from my shoulder to my face. It was the same look of disapproval she gave me when I had skipped a test or returned to the dorm we’d shared after a few days out.

  “Ash—”

  “I know, I know,” I said. “It’s my new trainer. She’s super badass, and doesn’t let up.”

  “Couldn’t you just tell her not to shoot you?” Hannah asked. “You’re the boss, right?”

  “I’m tops,” I agreed. “But I want her to push me. I didn’t realize how easy Walter’d been going on me until Violet took over. Now it’s like I realized he was using kitty gloves all along.”

  “Kid gloves,” Hannah said. “It’s an idiom.”

  She judged my expression.

  “It’s not an insult,” she said. “Idiom doesn’t mean idiot.”

  “I know.” Then I changed the subject, to get back to the point. “Anyway, you know what’s been going on. I’ve got to be prepared if those jerks from New York come back. Walter swears they will.”

  “Bennet thinks so too,” Hannah said.

  “But that’s not why you’re here.” I smiled and brushed off the talk of my injuries and my training. I didn’t want to spend my limited time with Hannah talking about the same stuff I had to talk to everyone else about. I wanted to do what we always did, what I looked forward to—reality TV and girl time.

  “Ten minutes ’til it starts,” Hannah said, thankfully choosing to focus on what was important.

  She smiled wide, and I did too. Then I took her hand and dragged her back the hall. We turned the corner, and I slammed right into something hard. I looked up from the black t-shirt with the Superham logo half faded to the wide eyes of my houseguest.

  “Charlie,” I said.

  “Yeah, uh, hey,” he said, as he tried to hide the small human woman standing behind him.

  Even if I didn’t see her feet, her heartbeat was unmistakable.

  I released Hannah’s hand and stepped around Charlie. He tried to block me, so I gave him a little nudge with the force of air that had become so natural after so little time. It was crazy imagining how I did anything without it.

  Charlie bumped gently into the wall, feet dangling a few inches from the floor.

  “Wait, wait,” he said, as I got my first good look at her.

  Long light-blond hair, bright green eyes, fair skin, black leggings, one of Charlie’s grunge band t-shirts, and a set of fresh fang marks on her neck. The resemblance was striking—she looked an awful lot like me. A little creepily so.

  The girl chewed her lower lip nervously as she looked wide-eyed at Charlie, like he could protect her from me.

  “Let me explain,” Charlie said.

  “I’m not sure I want to hear—”

  “Please,” he said.

  I let go of my hold on him, and allowed his weight to fall back on his feet.

  “Hi, Hannah,” Charlie said, with the smile that I used to find charming. I’d learned better than to fall for that.

  Hannah raised a hand in greeting, but stayed a step back.

  “Charlie,” I barked in my I’m-the-boss tone.

  His eyes snapped back to meet mine.

  “This is Angel,” Charlie said. “She was the one from the college.”

  I crossed my arms and waited for a real explanation.

  “You know, the one that…sorry, Angel, for having to bring this up again.” He leaned in and whispered, “She’s the one that Noah attacked in the dorms when everything started, the one he tried to kill for looking like you.”

  “Oh,” I said, and looked to Angel. It made sense that she looked like my twin—that’s why she was targeted. She wasn’t the only one who’d suffered for looking like me last month. And she was the luckier of the two. The other ended up dead on my doorstep. But even so, his response didn’t really answer the big question.

  “Why’s she here?” I asked.

  “I’m glad you asked,” Charlie said, and laced his fingers in hers. “Angel and I are dating.”

  I rolled my eyes. Of course they were.

  “Charlie, feel free to feed on anyone you like, no matter what they look like,” I said.

  “Hey,” Angel said, with a scowl.

  “I don’t care who you sleep with, either. Just don’t do it here,” I said. “You brought a human here, to my house. Glamour her, and make her forget about our kind, and this place.”

  Charlie frowned. It was hard to be the responsible one sometimes, most times. I got it, he liked her. But bringing a human here and letting her know about us put everyone at risk. It wasn’t his place to do that.

  “I get it,” Charlie said. “But Ashley, please don’t tell Walter.”

  Don’t tell his sire that he’s been hiding his relationship with a girl whose life he’d saved?

  “Sure, Charlie,” I said. “So long as you deal with your mess.”

  “Got it.” He nodded. “On it,” he said. “Fixing it.”

  And with that, he took the girl’s hand and they ran back the way they’d come.

  I sighed, and turned to Hannah.

  “What?” I asked, waiting for the comment that she held back behind that smirk.

  “I guess he has a type,” she said.

  “Yeah,” I said, flat and dry, “great.”

  The doorbell rang, this time sounding like a chore instead of a song.

  “Sassy Bitches started five minutes ago,” Hannah said.

  Of course it did. I’d been looking forward to watching my favorite trash TV show with my best friend for three weeks. It was supposed to be a weekly sleepover party. I’d had to cancel one week, Hannah another. I was set that nothing was going to ruin our fun this time.

  “You go ahead to the theatre,” I said. “I’ll catch right up, promise.”

  I started back down the hall toward the door.

  There was excitement in a voice I’d never heard it from—Bennet.

  “It’s exactly what I’ve been telling him,” Bennet said.

  There were whispers I couldn’t make out. Then I stepped into the great room.

  A fire roared in the hearth, and in front of it stood Bennet. There was another vampire with him, a stranger.

  He was taller than Bennet, much taller than me, and his soft green eyes met mine when no one else turned. There was a kindness in them, a gentleness that I’d never seen in a vampire. His jaw was square, and clean-shaven. His frame was cut, and powerful. It was his stance, the way he commanded the room without speaking a word, and I was drawn right in. For a moment, locked in his gaze, it was as if there were only the two of us.

  “Ashley,” Bennet said, “where’s Hannah? I don’t want her to miss this.”

  “Miss what?” I asked, still unable to look away from the tall, sexy stranger.

  “Our sire, Tyr Ulfhednar, the rightful ruler of Scarlet Harbor, has finally returned.”

  Rightful ruler. The words repeated in my head. All eyes were on me, and I felt the heat rise in my cheeks.

  Chapter Five

  Tyr

  Her presence was grander than her small frame—light and power radiated from the woman in form-fitting black attire. Her hair was golden sunlight, her skin silky cream. Her green eyes beamed like emeralds. Her cheeks were kissed by scarlet, as were her lips.

  Bennet had described this woman as rash, unfit to rule, but he didn't say how beautiful she was.

  There was something there, if only for a single, fragile moment, a connection between us. We stared into each other’s eyes as if that was all that existed. It was as if I knew her, and she me. And just as quickly, that feeling was gone.

  “Rightful ruler?” she asked.

  “Tyr’s here,” Bennet said. “This has always been his place.”

  It was so matter-of-fact. He just assumed that we could go back to the way life had been before. Maybe Bennet could, but I couldn’t.

  “Throne’s not up for grabs,” the queen said.

  There was strength in the way she spoke, even with a voice so soft.

&
nbsp; “It’s not up to you,” Bennet said to the queen. “This house was built, this whole territory was built, by Tyr. No one has more right to be here, to rule our kind, than him. This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for. We need to get the word out.”

  “I said, I am queen.”

  Ashley King balled her fists, and an invisible wave pulsed outward from her in every direction. The guards stationed by the door and in the hall faltered. The seating by the fire upturned and slid across the Oriental rug. Bennet slammed into the wall behind us. I felt her power, but remained unfazed. Her eyes went wide, her mouth hung open, stunned not by what she had done to the fallen, but by me.

  A young woman with black hair and bright blue eyes ran into the room. I recognized her from the framed photographs in Bennet’s home. Hannah—Bennet’s amor aeternus. Her heart fluttered, her concern was clear. She ran past the queen, past, me, right to Bennet.

  I looked to the queen. Ashley’s eyes were fire, her fangs drawn. She was prepared to fight for what she’d earned, what she felt belonged to her. I respected that, though her path was not mine.

  “I don’t want it,” I said.

  She blinked, and her face softened.

  “What?”

  “The throne,” I said. “I have no desire to rule.”

  She lowered her brows, scowling as she weighed my words. I wished this woman no harm, no discontent.

  “Bennet,” I said, “we should go.”

  “What are you saying?” My progeny appeared as frustrated as he was confused.

  “Please,” I said, as I stepped past fallen guards, out the door. I didn’t wait to see if my progeny would follow.

  The night air was cool on my face, the stone hard beneath my feet. It was a remarkable feeling to be back on land, to be back in Scarlet Harbor. The sky above me was lit with countless stars. How I’d missed the sky.

  As a child I’d been taught their origin—sparks of the fire spirits placed by the gods to light the earth. My father had taught me the groupings, the shapes and names of every constellation. Generations later, those names were replaced by the musings of other cultures. Loki’s Torch was renamed Sirius. Thiassi’s Eyes were renamed Castor and Pollux. But when I looked up at the sky, I remembered my father, and what I saw was what he taught me. I didn’t see distant star bodies, but divine embers fixed to guide our way and light our nights.