Monsters & Empire: Urban Magick & Folklore, #5

By C. Gockel

Grendel never believed love could conquer all. She'd better be wrong.
 

Beowulf's brother, the Dragon King, has found an unstoppable weapon, and that weapon is Beowulf. With Beowulf's Magick, the Dragon King is creating an army capable of destroying all in its path.
 

Can Grendel convince herself love is a force strong enough to break down the most powerful walls … the ones inside?
 

Can she convince Beowulf she is not the enemy, or will Beowulf follow the path of his namesake, and let pride and a thirst for vengeance destroy Grendel's homeland and himself?
 

Grendel's faith and Beowulf's choice will decide the fate of empires, humans and non-humans, the living and the dead.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. Gockel
• Release date: Oct 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215763384

Book preview

PART I

CHAPTER 1

The corpse’s stench overpowered the sickly sweet taste of Magick on Bayo’s tongue. The man was so decomposed, Bayo almost didn't recognize him…

Dr. Turban, a Magickal surgeon and Bayo’s assistant, bent over the body. Turban’s Magick flared, and it tasted the way corpses stank. It all but smothered the omnipresent, faint Magickal flavor of honeysuckle that clung to Bayo’s tongue. Turban whispered, This body has a story to tell, deeper than what I read in its smell.

Bayo's skin prickled at the rhyme and Turban’s need to make it. Turban would call it a spell. Magickals of lesser talent used them to focus their Magick.

Turban’s eyelids fluttered closed. He’s been dead for two months. He waved a hand over the body. Ah …his relatives kept him in a stasis spell for half that time. You’ve revived worse.

No, Bayo said.

Turban straightened. The Ice Makers last week. The Waterworker the week before—

I’m not reviving this one, Bayo snarled. The steel table beneath the corpse reflected the overhead lights with blinding intensity. Bayo felt a headache coming on.

But— protested Turban.

Spinning from the table, Bayo strode past the humming tanks that kept the ambient Ember in the room as high as … as high as … Bayo’s mind drew a blank. He shook his head. An image of a train car at night flashed through his mind. He stumbled.

Turban cried, Wait—

Bayo didn’t hear the rest. He stormed out of the Revivery. Bursting into the sunlight of the desert at noon, he blinked against the glare. Revived guards on either side of the door snapped to salute. Men and women Bayo had revived earlier in the day marched toward a troop transport. They’d go through military training and then integrate with regular Magickal units. The Revived had no say in this. They also had no feelings about the matter. They had no feelings at all.

Bayo’s brother, Theo, the Prime of the United Magickal States, the UMS’s ultimate leader, said they were the best troops the UMS had. Ember animated the Revived, and as long as they had access to Ember, any wound they had would heal and their body parts could be reattached. The only way to incapacitate them was to remove their heads or burn them to ash. They were like Vampires. Bayo’s skin crawled. He took a deep breath of clean, dry, desert air, his eyes lifting to the distance and the scrub-covered Franklin Mountains.

Built on the capital’s outskirts, the Revivery was far from the prying eyes of the press and those hoping Bayo would resurrect their dead.

If they could see the Revived marching in the courtyard, eyes vacant, moves mechanical, would they want that for the ones they loved? Bayo wouldn’t want it for his worst enemy, much less anyone he cared about. Bayo’s brother had other ideas. Under normal circumstances, Bayo wouldn’t have gone along with Theo’s plans, but the UMS was not in normal times. Still, there were limits, and Theo knew that. Marching to the gate, Bayo’s skin heated with banked rage.

Do you want a car? Dr. Turban asked, emerging from the building.

No.

But—

Call one for yourself! Bayo shouted, approaching his Suncruiser Embercycle, a gift from his brother. The bike was new, and Ember hadn’t made its way into its gears to give it loyalty or personality. Bayo preferred a machine he got along with, rather than a machine he’d have absolute control over. An Ember machine bonded to you would steer for you if you had to stake a Vampire. Individualism in a machine drained the Ember tank faster, but could be the difference between success and failure, life and death.

The machine had a tracking device installed. Theo would know Bayo was coming. And if he was in a bad mood, he’d chew Bayo out through one of the bike’s side mirrors.

Bayo had ignored the tracking device so far. They were standard in the Order of Ember, the elite Vampire hunting force Bayo had belonged to from age seven to just a few months ago. He’d followed more than one Magickal tracker on a hunt when a member of his Order had gone missing in pursuit of a bloodsucker. They were a safety measure.

Bayo wasn’t in the Order anymore. He wasn’t hunting Vampiric vermin. He was going to visit his brother. Unscrewing the Ember tank cap, he reached through the rubber flap that prevented leakage during fill ups. Heedless of the Ember seeping out, Bayo felt around until he found the bug. It had dug itself into the inside of the flap. Encircling it with his fingers, Bayo yanked. Enriched by the tank’s Ember, the bug clung with more strength than its eight paperclip thin legs should have allowed. Taking a deep inhale of the leaking Ember, Bayo gave Magickal power to his sinews and tendons of his hand, yanked harder, and the bug popped free. Bayo screwed the cap back on and checked if Turban had noticed. The man had not. He was giving orders to a Revived to bring a car around. Bayo dropped the device into the hot Sunland sand and crushed it under his heel.

Bayo had a head start and finding him in mirrors without the tracker would be difficult. Especially since Bayo was taking a shortcut.

Jumping onto the bike, he hit the power and checked the Ember levels. Low, but enough. He hit the accelerator, slowing slightly when he reached the gate. The Revived guards opened it for Bayo without greetings or questions, despite it being before his departure time. That lack of questioning was what his brother was depending on. Theo was a fool.

Theo was in a meeting when Bayo reached the Keep. Approaching Theo’s office, Bayo could feel the attendee’s desperation and anger in the Ember. When he got closer, he recognized the attendee’s muffled voice echoing into the corridor. That shouldn’t happen. The Keep must have settled. Drawing to a halt, he blinked down at a crack beneath Theo's door. Bayo needed to tell Theo to soundproof the thing. Later. After he heard the conclusion to this interview.

I know you believe that someone has to take her out! Eclason, Bayo’s friend and member of Bayo’s former Order declared.

Maybe that’s not true anymore. Theo’s quiet, hesitant reply was at odds with his nickname, the Dragon King. My army—

The Queen’s army wasn’t enough, Eclason countered.

Bayo’s nostrils flared. Grendel. They were talking about Grendel, the most dangerous Vampire to rise from the dead. Before Bayo’s birth, Grendel had been the catalyst for a civil war and murdered the Queen. Only months ago, she had murdered Aion, Gareth, and Gil, members of Bayo’s Order. Trent, another member of Bayo’s Order, had faced her and consequently gone insane and wandered off, never to be seen again. Grendel was a tool of the UMS’s greatest enemy, the monster lovers of the Alliance to the North.

Once, Bayo had almost killed Grendel by tracking her to her luxurious underground home in Chicago. The Vampire had designed it to look like St. Petersburg Station in Russia. Remembering the gleam of gilt columns and chandeliers, marble ceilings and floors, and the soft shuffle of her human slave-hosts … It felt like a dream. Someone else’s dream. Bayo touched his temple. The headache he thought he’d left behind was coming back with a vengeance.

Beyond the door, Eclason continued, She’s too dangerous to ignore, you know that.

I’ve already lost Aion, Trent, Gil, and Gareth. I nearly lost Gray and Kurt, Theo replied. Under his breath, he muttered, I nearly lost my brother.

Bayo’s jaw hardened at his brother's exaggeration. Bayo had experienced issues since his meeting with Grendel—not due to Grendel herself, but due to her Fae accomplices. The Fae had twisted his memories and made them hazy and unreliable. Fae Shocked, they called it. But his memories would come back, and Bayo had gotten more from Grendel than she’d taken. Bayo had dragged the Vampire from her extravagant sarcophagus. He’d forced her to reveal a secret backdoor into the Smoky Mountain Mine. Grendel had been supplying the mine with slaves for decades, and—

Bayo’s headache intensified. Gritting his teeth, he flinched and tried to recall the details of her capture. He’d pinned her to the floor, and her blonde hair had spilled out beneath her. She’d ineffectually raked at him with black shellacked nails. Her too-pale blue eyes had glinted wickedly, and her crimson painted lips had curled into a sneer. Even contorted in rage, she’d been beautiful. All Vampires were, once they de-aged: to better attract the unsuspecting. Even Vampire hunters weren’t immune to their beauty and yet …

Bayo’s shoulders sagged. There was no emotion attached to that vision—no rage, lust, or sense of waste that a creature so beautiful could be so evil—there was nothing.

He had another memory that was exquisitely clear. A Magickal force knocked him down and left him concussed during his liberation of the mine... He’d woken and found two older women leaning over him, both worried, one with hair so white it was like a halo and eyes so pale they almost glowed behind her spectacles. Despite her age, she’d been lovely, and he’d wanted to kiss her. He felt that wanting even now. He couldn’t remember her name. Maybe he never knew it.

Send me to Chicago, Eclason entreated beyond the door. Send me after Grendel.

Theo did not directly control the Order, but Order missions outside the UMS had to be approved by him.

Bayo wanted to rush in and demand, Send me! but didn’t. He’d already made the demand too many times. Theo needed him here. The people of the United Magickal States needed him here.

Bayo’s lip curled, thinking of the corpse on the table—the scent still lingered in his nostrils and coated his tongue. His frustration boiled over, and he burst into Theo’s office before the guards could stop him.

Since becoming Prime, Theo had redecorated his office, tearing down walls to make it three times the size it once was, lifting the ceiling by opening the chamber to the one above and stretching the windows two stories high. Carved columns with graceful arches maintained the structural integrity. Steel, poisonous to Fae, and paler silver, toxic to Vampires, glinted on every surface, even between the tiles of the dark obsidian floor.

His brother sat behind an enormous desk. Eclason stood at parade rest before Theo, wearing the armor of the Order, with the hood and cowl pulled back, his back to Bayo. The armor would protect Eclason from projectiles, fire, and acid, was almost invisible, and could assist in following Vampires when they slipped out-of-time. Not that members of the Order needed that last functionality. The first thing members of the Order learned was sensing the shift in the Ember that meant a Vampire had left time. The second ability was catching the Vampire’s wake, slipping into the out-of-time with them. Bayo felt a pang as he stared at his former uniform.

Theo leaped from the desk. Eclason, the most talkative member of the Order, didn’t even look at Bayo. After Bayo had liberated the Smokey Mountain Mines, Grendel had tried to strike Bayo down. Gareth, Gil, and Trent, three members of Bayo’s Order, had tried to capture her and bring her to justice, but the Vampire had lured them into Fairy. Bayo had gone after them. Eclason had come with him and been Fae Shocked and rendered comatose for days. He hadn’t been the same since. Bayo’s friend hadn’t said more than three words since they’d returned to the capital, and he looked like shit. He needed a haircut, and he looked like he’d shaved without a mirror.

Unable to help his friend, Bayo faced his brother and prepared for battle.

Why are you here, Bayo? Theo asked, his tone calmer and more controlled than his emotions in the Ember.

Richter is on my reviving table! Bayo said. He was in league with Grendel, and he tortured thousands of Commons in the mines. I’m not waking him.

Theo’s frustration burned through the Ember. You’ve been bitching that waking them is unethical because they’ve lost their free will. Now you complain when I ask you to revive an enemy of the people, someone who deserves to lose their free will and deserves being forced to serve the people he betrayed!

Skin heating, hands curling into fists, Bayo took a step toward his brother. You’ve been assuring me that someday their true selves might return, and that hope makes their resurrection worth it! Now you’re saying that it is punishment?

It’s not a punishment; it’s payment, and it is a necessity! Theo roared. We need Richter’s Magick if we’re going to take on the swamp denizens of the North.

A faint sweetness was creeping into Bayo’s awareness. It filled his mouth and crept toward his throat. He ignored it. Richter’s telekinesis allowed him to open up chasms in the Earth itself. If he regains his free will, what then?

Kill him again! Theo roared, face turning red and living up to his nickname.

How will I do that? Bayo demanded.

However you did it the first time! Theo shouted.

Bayo took a step back. How had he done it? His memories were vague. For some reason, he thought of the older woman with the moonlight pale hair, her slender figure standing before Richter, spectacles perched on the bridge of her nose. He felt like … she’d done it … or at least helped. He shook his head. A petite older woman hadn’t killed or even helped kill one of the most powerful Magickals in the United Magickal States. And why did he keep thinking about her? Why didn’t he know her name?

The sweetness on his tongue intensified.

Theo pulled a charm from beneath his collar and worried it between his fingers. The charm was a gift from their father and warned the bearer of harmful intent. Bayo contained the urge to snarl. His brother needed Magick to trust him?

Theo’s shoulders loosened, and he wiped a hand down his face. "Why, of all people, are you fighting me? We’re brothers," he grumbled.

Love isn’t about not fighting, Bayo said. It’s about fighting to help each other succeed. He’d heard that somewhere … who had said it? No one in the Order. Not his brother. His father, maybe? Why did he hear it in a woman’s voice?

Sliding the charm back under his collar, Theo huffed and squinted at him with one eye. Bayo tried not to gag as sickening sweet Magick coated his tongue. He blinked. The sickening sweet Magick belonged to Theo. It was Theo’s Magick he’d tasted wherever he was in Sunland these days. He’d always believed Theo’s Magick was weak, but that wasn’t quite right, was it? Why couldn’t he ask Theo to stop? Why was his jaw locking up? And what was Theo’s Magickal talent? Something abstract. A woman’s voice whispered in his mind, Abstract talents are the most dangerous. He couldn’t pin the words to a face.

You really believe you’re helping me, Theo said.

Of course, Bayo replied, the complete truth. You’re my brother. Also a truth, but a truth without feeling, or not the correct feeling. Eclason felt more like a brother, and Trent had, too … What happened to Trent? Fae Shocked … but it had been more than that, hadn’t it?

Coming around his desk, Theo put his hands on either side of Bayo’s face, and Bayo fought the urge to recoil.

Are you still with me, Brother? Theo asked. Concern filled the ambient Ember along with Theo’s Magick, thick as honey and nauseatingly sweet.

Yes, I’m with you, Bayo said, restraining his gag reflex. More truth, but a qualified truth. Bayo wanted to take on the Alliance where Vampires like Grendel roamed free, preying on helpless civilians and turning them into slaves. Theo wanted to do it for the Ember reserves in Southern Illinois, not for any high-minded ideology. His brother could do it, too. The Queen had tried to take on the city by striking at its heart and had gotten mired in urban warfare. Theo planned to liberate the surrounding countryside first and then lead the Commons into rebellion.

The silence had stretched too long. Clasping Theo’s wrists, Bayo pulled his brother’s hands away. The memory lapses …

Ah … said Theo.

Bayo swallowed, trying to force the sweetness down.

We need Richter, Bayo, Theo said, his exhaustion floating in the Ember. We deploy too much of our military in Northern Mexico.

Bayo nodded. They had to keep the Northern Mexican territories. That was where the United Magickal States got its current Ember supplies … but those mines were emptying.

We can’t afford to lose in Southern Illinois, Theo said. The Alliance is a dagger aimed at our heart. If we run out of Ember, they’ll overrun us. Certainty, worry, and fear crept across the Ember. Bayo could taste them.

Maybe Theo was right …

We need Richter’s power, Theo said. Think of the Commons, Bayo.

Bayo thought of the Vampire nests he’d encountered when he was in the Order, the Commons, non-Magickal humans, kept as food and playthings. He thought of the Vampires, their narcissism and sadism. He thought of Eclason and Trent’s Fae Shock … it wasn’t just Vampires. The Northerners let the Fae, Old Gods, monsters, and monstrous Magickal humans, like the Storm King, keep the Commons in a state of subjugation. He nodded at his brother.

It’s not just the coordinated forces of the Alliance you need to fear, said Eclason.

Bayo blinked.

Theo turned away from Bayo.

Grendel, said Eclason. You want her destroyed.

Some of the sweetness left Bayo’s tongue.

Send me to destroy Grendel, Eclason urged. You need her gone in more ways than one.

Bayo shook his head and muttered to himself, Do we really need Richter …?

Something snapped in Theo. Urgency flared across the Ember, and calculation, too. Sweetness flooded Bayo’s mouth. Fine, Theo snapped at Eclason. Go to Chicago but take Gray and Kurt. Dismissed.

Eclason nodded at Theo. Bayo was dimly aware of his friend nodding at him too, and through the Ember felt a rush of … gratitude? Determination? Before Bayo could decipher the emotions, Eclason turned on his heel and left, relief rolling off him in waves.

Theo’s attention snapped back to Bayo. His Magick surging, he said through clenched teeth, You once told me the hope of the Revived regaining free will was about as great as it was for the headless bodies cryo-preserved Pre-Change.

Bayo’s eyebrows lifted, remembering that comparison to the pre-Change world: before Ember had swept the Earth, destroying all the old technologies, Vampires had arisen, and Magickals like Bayo had emerged to fight them. Before the Change, when technology had been electricity based instead of Magick based, they had preserved bodies and heads to be reanimated later. How did Bayo know that obscure fact? He didn’t remember being taught it during his training … Could he have learned it before then?

Bayo, come back to me, Theo said.

Bayo’s focus returned to his brother.

Reanimate Richter, Theo said.

The revolting sweetness returned, but Bayo thought of the Commons, defenseless against the Vampires, Fae, and others.

Yes, Bayo said, hearing the word as though someone else had spoken it.

Good. Let’s forget our fight, shall we? Theo said.

Bayo blinked. What fight? he asked, but his fists clenched at his side.

CHAPTER 2

Don’t think of Aion, throat slit, blood drained, and body impaled. Don’t think of the Queen’s body, headless on the floor of the Keep, and don’t think of Kurt and Gray on top of the building next door looking down at you.

Eclason told himself all these things as he slipped down the Chicago alleyway. He exhaled and halted at a sunken stairwell from Bayo’s memories—Bayo’s actual memories. Gritting his teeth, Eclason reminded himself of one more thing: don’t be angry at Kurt and Gray, either.

He trod down the steps to Grendel’s lair. The door had a newer sliding lock that could only be operated from the inside and a sturdy Magick lock with a dissuasion spell. The dissuasion spell didn’t dissuade him, and he was proficient enough at telekinesis. He gathered the ambient Ember, sprung the locks, pushed the door open, and slipped from the heat of late afternoon into the chill of her basement apartment.

Closing the door, he told himself, Keep it together, man. Katie will be fine. He hadn’t heard his sister’s thoughts since Sunland. If she wasn’t fine … Eclason balled his hands into fists. She’d tell him he should be here, hunting for this Vampire. Katie would say it wasn’t just about her.

Shaking himself, Eclason stretched his senses—and felt no consciousness within the apartment. He opened his hands and sent spark lights into the room.

The great room was just as Bayo remembered it: a kitchen, sitting area, and a bathtub set off by a screen. Every wall had an overflowing bookshelf, and every piece of furniture had a book nearby. He even noticed a book on a tottering table beside the tub. The ceiling was so low he could touch it, and the cement floor rippled over subterranean tree roots. A priceless Magickal tapestry hung in the sitting room, displaying the street outside and the sinking sun.

Even with his spark lights, the place was dim, and he almost missed the recent addition to the Vampire’s decor: a standing mirror in one corner, shimmering with Magick. For a moment, Eclason’s heart stopped, but he felt no consciousness on the other side. It might be like the dissuasion lock, sensitive to intent. Eclason chuckled darkly. His intent was ruthless.

He headed toward the Vampire’s daytime nest, pausing only a moment between the great room and the back. Family photos and children’s drawings dedicated to Grandma Grendel hung on the wall. Bayo had noticed them when he came to sink a stake in Grendel’s heart, but Bayo hadn’t faltered in his mission, not then, at any rate. Kurt and Gray wouldn’t falter if they saw it. Eclason couldn’t falter, either.

He strode through the short hallway that led to Grendel’s photography studio, not allowing himself to be distracted by the photos drying on a clothesline. Instead, he kicked off the rug at the center of the floor, and then he cursed. In place of the simple plate of steel he expected, there was a heavy steel door, the sort used for bank safes. He wouldn’t be able to open it.

Sitting on his heels, he pounded against the steel. He wanted to shout, but wasn’t sure if Gray and Kurt would hear, and the steel would be soundproof, anyway. No consciousness arose within the Vampire’s tomb. She might not even be there. Eclason took a deep breath and focused his thoughts. Wake up, he thought, banging on the door. Wake up.

Consciousness shifted below him. He held his breath … and heard waves crashing against the shore and saw a beach edged by low, craggy peaks and cliffs, dark storm clouds overhead. The Vampire was dreaming, and he didn’t have time for dreams. Dreams enlightened but also lied and deluded the dreamer.

Wake up, damn you! Eclason commanded.

The dream melted, and panic took its place. It took a moment for Eclason to realize she was not panicking at his presence.

He blinked. You’re claustrophobic? How had he not dug this out of Bayo’s mind? Also, what kind of Vampire was claustrophobic?

He felt the Vampire recover. "Who are you? she demanded, and then, And how are you in my brain … why are you familiar?"

He blinked again, surprised that she was adapting to telepathy so quickly and not accustomed to being recognized by anyone but Katie. You heard me at the Abbott’s, Eclason replied. I warned you to run.

"Who are you," the Vampire demanded.

He could feel Kurt becoming more impatient, and Gray becoming increasingly uneasy. He felt like he was going in circles. We don’t have time.

"Who are you?" the Vampire asked again.

Eclason, he replied, expecting nothing.

You’re Bayo’s friend?

That’s how Bayo thought of him? Eclason swallowed. I’m trying to be his friend. Somewhat belatedly.

‘Being a friend’ doesn’t mean putting a stake through my heart, does it? the Vampire asked.

"No!" Eclason exclaimed.

No, I suppose you could have done that at the Abbott’s, Grendel mused. Although you aren’t exactly trustworthy, are you?

What? Bayo said that, too? A treacherous voice within him said, And you’re not precisely trustworthy, are you?

The Vampire gave the mental equivalent of a snort. Bayo said you’re a touch telepath. Touch telepath, my fangs. You’re a full telepath.

More … thoughts? Voices? flowed through the Ember.

Don’t leave, he’s a liar!

We’re safe here!

Call our friends!

For a moment, the voices made Eclason forget everyone and everything: Katie, Kurt and Gray, Bayo, Aion and the Queen, and what had happened to them when they’d stumbled onto Grendel’s bad side. Are you haunted? Eclason didn’t mean to transmit the question. Haunting was such a rare condition; it slipped out.

Surprise rushed through the Ember. Am I? I thought it was trauma-induced schizophrenia. It wasn’t. Schizophrenics’ voices came from within. Her voices clung to her—like the ghosts they were.

There was a pause. That’s oddly reassuring. The Vampire snipped at her passengers, Some of you could have explained that to me.

From the ghosts there was a guilty silence.

The Vampire’s attention returned to him. Why are you here?

His desperation returned. We have to save Bayo, and we don’t have much time.

Hydraulics whooshed and the steel door lifted and slid sideways. A shallow chamber lined by ancient, crumbling bricks, only knee deep, lay within. It had been a hiding place for moonshine in an era long before the Change, and before Grendel. Eclason knew these things because Bayo had found them interesting. The modest chamber was a far cry from the opulent sarcophagus Theo imagined she slept in. Her plaid flannel pajamas and fuzzy socks were modest, too. Instead of gold or gems, she held a Magickal compact mirror, currently not-engaged, and a toy duck.

Where is he? she asked.

He grimaced. Not here.

She exhaled, and he saw himself through her eyes: flushed, brown bangs falling in front of his face. It was too dim for him to see color well, but he was perfectly illuminated to her, and his hazel eyes looked green to her gaze. She was hungry, and he felt her fighting the urge to ogle his neck. With a sigh of defeat, her gaze fell. Through her senses, he heard his heart pound and blood whooshing through his veins.

None of that, he scolded firmly.

She nodded, closed her eyes, and massaged her temple. Would love to know how you kept a talent for full-blown telepathy a secret for so long, she said, and thought, "God, I’m hungry. A second later, she said, Don’t worry, I won’t bite. Well, not unless I have to." Her thoughts flooded him unbidden. She missed Bayo. Hated thinking of drinking from any human but him, too.

She whispered, It’s too much to hope he’s nearby, isn’t it?

No, he’s in the UMS. You’ve got to rescue him.

She rolled her eyes. They weren’t particularly wide, and even in the dark, he could see that they were pale blue gray. At first glance, he’d thought she looked old, but now he saw that was an illusion of her white hair. Also, she didn’t look quite human. The fine lines in her face and the softness of her jaw and brow were too symmetrical, and her eyes glowed faintly in the low light. She put an elbow on the edge of the chamber. Any other miracles you want me to work?

Eclason swallowed. There are two other Vampire hunters outside—

Eyes widening, she half rose from her nest.

He held up his hands. I told them to wait outside while I investigated what I supposedly thought was a secret entrance to your home, but they don’t think it’s a secret entrance.

She narrowed her eyes at him and then bolted into the great room. One of her ghosts said, What is he going on about? She looked at the tapestry—it showed only her pleasant, family friendly block—and spun back to him.

He answered the question she didn’t ask. They are on the roof next door and under the impression that your lair is an opulent replica of St. Petersburg Station connected to the subway system.

She cocked her head, the movement reminiscent of a bird of prey.

With slaves, Eclason finished.

She bared her fangs. Images of her times in the mines flashed through both their minds.

Eclason talked. Talking spackled over his telepathic curse and kept the thoughts of others at bay. Yes, I get it. That has to be horribly insulting, aggravating, and rage inducing for you. But also, yes, they think that. Never mind why at the moment. He fished hopefully. I don’t suppose you do have a secret exit to the subway system?

She shook her head no.

The coal tunnels? he asked optimistically.

He felt her admiration for his knowledge of Chicago’s subterranean architecture, but cocking her head the other way, Grendel hissed through her fangs. Those are downtown. The nearest one is over a mile from here.

What about the fallout shelter beneath the University of Illinois? he asked in a last bout of hope.

No.

Eclason sighed. It couldn’t be that easy. None of this is going to plan.

She narrowed her eyes. What—

Eclason ran his hand through his hair. You’re right, I am already asking you for one miracle and have no right to ask you for more. I’ll leave and lose them some other way. It’s not your concern. He mentally checked on Gray and Kurt, who were currently still on the roof. He breathed a sigh of relief, but then choked on it. Oh, shit.

This doesn’t feel right, Gray said, crouching low on the roof. The late afternoon sun warmed his back, yet he felt cold in his gut.

Jesus Christ, not this again, Kurt replied.

Reliance on Old Gods is Common, Gray said, skin prickling. Kurt was always drilling that into his head. He glanced at Kurt, kneeling beside him. They’d worn civilian clothing over their armor until they’d leaped onto the rooftop; it lay stacked and folded at their feet, but they hadn’t pulled their hoods up or their cowls over their faces.

Kurt was focused on the door Eclason had vanished into minutes before. The doorway didn’t look like the entrance to the opulent lair of the most dangerous Vampire that had ever existed. It looked humble. Lonely. Grendel was supposed to have slaves—shouldn’t they be coming and going, doing chores for their soon-to-be-waking mistress?

You’ve just got nerves, Kurt replied, gaze intent on the target.

Gray glanced up at the brilliant blue sky above them. Giant sparkling white clouds—not the sort that warned of storms—floated above, drifting like airborne islands. They made Gray wish he could fly. The sky, the clouds, the warm sun on his back, all those things should put him at ease. And yet …

Not that you should be nervous, Kurt said. We’re only on a mission to destroy the Vampire that killed the Queen, Aion, Gil, and Gareth and left Eclason, Trent, and Beowulf damaged. Kurt spit the last word. His brow furrowed. Eclason shouldn’t be in charge of this mission. He is a shitty hunter.

Eclason was not a powerful Vampire hunter. Still, compared to the fates of the others Grendel had faced, Eclason had gotten off easy. After being rendered unconscious for a few days, Eclason made a full recovery, with his memories intact. His personality had changed, though. He used to be the chattiest guy in the Order, but this entire mission he’d been quiet. His gabbiness used to annoy Gray—it used to annoy everyone. Eclason’s silence had left Gray feeling … exposed. He’d felt sometimes that the older hunter was staring straight into his soul. Grendel didn’t kill us, either, Gray said. She’d just knocked them off their transports. It makes me uneasy—the most powerful Vampire that ever existed should have killed us.

Kurt exhaled. You’re sad she didn’t?

No, but neither of us is powerful—

Speak for yourself, Kurt said.

We’re rookies. We’ve never killed a Vampire before, Gray continued. We’re only here by accident, and you know it. The accident being that Eclason had finally, inexplicably, gotten permission from Prime Theo to hunt Grendel. Eclason had left the hour he’d received permission. The Order commanded Gray and Kurt to join him, most likely because they were in Sunland already, and closest.

A buzz near his ear and a needle of pain above his jugular made Gray’s hand shoot up. He smacked the side of his neck and then stared down at the blood smeared on his palm.

Kurt winced and smacked his own neck. He put his blood-stained palm beside Gray’s. There. We’ve both killed blood suckers now.

They bit us first, Gray pointed out.

What is wrong with you today? Kurt asked.

It’s not today, Gray said. That’s the problem. It’s been every day since we fought with Grendel. The night they’d chased the beat-up pickup over Kentucky’s back roads came back with crisp clarity. Did she look like the femme fatale we keep hearing about?

She was too far away to see. But she had the platinum blonde hair—

It looked white. Gray remembered it, framing the Vampire’s pale face.

That’s what platinum blonde looks like, Gray.

She wore hiking gear, Gray remembered.

Beautiful women can’t go hiking in practical clothing? Kurt asked.

The pickup was a clunker. Wouldn’t a Vampire with an obscenely opulent lair be too vain to drive a clunker?

She was desperate! Kurt shot back.

In the Ember, her emotions were … protective, Gray said. Grendel’s emotions reminded him of his brother’s and sister’s protectiveness when he’d told them he didn't want to go back to the Order. His sister had said, We’ll support you. His brother added, You don’t have to be a sacrificial lamb for us. And they had meant it. But of course, once his mother and father had submitted him to training, he’d had to remain or bring shame down on them all.

He stared at the blood on his hand. There are rumors she was Bayo’s lover.

Kurt rounded on him. Shut up! Beowulf is the best of us. He didn’t … and if he did, it was to control her, to manipulate her.

So why didn’t he kill her? Gray asked.

Kurt exhaled. He freed thousands of people, Gray.

Some say she helped, Gray said.

See, Kurt said. He was manipulating her. His shoulders fell. And if he wasn’t … it wouldn’t be the first time the man let his dick do his thinking for him. He shook his head. It’s always been Bayo’s weakness. You remember that whore in town we saw him with.

Gray’s skin crawled with wrongness. Anger, hot and orange, flared in his chest. He pressed his lips together.

Turning to him, Kurt whispered, We saw them together …

They’d never talked about it. Gray had thought they had an unspoken agreement that they never would. Bayo was the best of them. Bayo wasn’t the strongest or the fastest, but when Gray was caught in the sea-monster’s maw, it was Bayo who’d come for him. He remembered the air in his lungs becoming sour; the water growing darker and colder, and the pressure in his ears making him feel as though his head would implode—but it did not surprise him that it was Bayo who followed him into the deep.

Kurt and Gray were younger than Bayo by two years, and also the youngest members of their own class. For a long time, that meant they’d been the smallest and weakest members of the Order. They’d been the targets of bullies, but Bayo had thrashed anyone who’d come after them—or tried to—no matter how big the fellows were. Eclason had always been with him, hanging back like a shadow. Bayo had always been the leader.

In long hikes through the desert, when Kurt and Gray fell behind, Bayo would march backward ahead of them and shout, Come on! You can do it! Bayo’s Magickal aura had shone around him like sunlight—and though Bayo’s voice had been cracking and raspy from thirst, somehow it had given Gray strength to go on. Sometimes he’d felt like it was the only reason he’d survived those early days.

Whores have sex for money, Gray said, tasting bile in his mouth.

What is your point? Kurt said.

Bayo had no money. She wasn’t a whore, Gray whispered.

Kurt rolled his eyes. Whatever.

For a moment, the only sounds were the cry of cicadas in the surrounding trees and the closer intermittent buzz of mosquitos.

Kurt slapped another one. This place was a fucking swamp. Still is.

Did Bayo seem Fae Shocked to you on the trip back to Sunland? Gray asked.

Kurt didn’t answer.

He didn’t seem Fae Shocked to me, either, Gray said. And he remembered this place on the trip back… he touched Eclason’s arm on the train and remembered this entrance to Grendel’s lair, and that’s why we’re here.

A car door slammed in the distance. Somewhere closer, someone threw meat on a grill, and the scent mixed with the odors of hot tar and concrete.

Gray stared hard at the supposed entrance to Grendel’s lair. Have you felt like Eclason never wanted us on this mission?

Of course, I’ve felt that, Kurt replied. He probably wants to kill Grendel all by himself. Kurt’s Magick surged. Fuck it. You’re right. Something is wrong. We’re going in.

"‘Oh shit,’