Sol and Alaric sat in silence at the rickety table. Sol’s head was resting in his hands as he wracked his brain to think of a plan that didn’t result in retribution from Clan Sanguine. His mind was blank of any ideas. Time passed until the shadows in the room grew longer until the room was shrouded in darkness. Glancing toward the window, Sol could see the sun disappearing over the horizon. Sighing heavily, he pushed out the chair to stand up.

“Sigh, it seems we’re out of time. Your escort will be here soon now that the sun has set. The only thing you can do is go with them. I’ll do my best to make sure nothing happens to you,” Sol promised.

“That’s reassuring, that way we can die together. Oh, wait. You already have, haha,” Alaric bitterly joked.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny, smart arse. Who’s dying… hold on.” Sol was interrupted by the sound of banging on a door downstairs. “They’re here. I didn’t expect them to arrive for a while yet, the last of the sun’s still visible on the horizon. They must be desperate to get the palace completed to risk it.”

“Wish me luck. I only wish we had the time to get blackout drunk before they arrived. It may be my last night alive, after all. Welp, best be going then. You can see yourself out,” Alaric bravely said. He resolutely pushed himself out of the chair and crossed the room to the exit. Hesitating a moment before opening the door, he turned to look at Sol. “I shouldn’t have to tell you. But don’t do anything stupid if those blood-suckers turn on me. You stay out of it. There’s no point in us both going down for my fuck up.”

“No matter what, you don’t walk away from family. I’ve got your back if shit turns sour. Like I always have. Now go, your escort is getting impatient. I can hear them beginning to harass the watchman downstairs,” Sol replied, crossing the distance to draw Alaric into a tight embrace. Alaric clapped Sol on the shoulder while sombrely nodding. After Alaric closed the door behind him, Sol rushed to the window. He braced himself against the frame, looking for a promising vantage point to follow the escort.

It seems I’m going to have to push myself to the limits to keep Alaric safe. If there’s a full-blood among the escort, I don’t know if I’m a match for them. A full-blood is multiple times more dangerous than a blood-crazed thin-blood. Here goes nothing.

Drawing in a deep breath, Sol launched himself from the fifth-floor window to the nearby rooftop. He landed heavily, shingles slipped underneath him, making him lose his balance. He fell backward onto his butt while sliding down in a small avalanche of tiles toward the street. Stretching out his arms, Sol slowed his descent until he flew off the side of the building. Sol twisted with supernatural agility to grip the eaves in a fluid motion.

Fuck. That was a great idea, Sol. If they investigate the sound, my cover will be blown before I even got anywhere.

Sol hung from the eaves, cursing his misfortune, tensely listening for any cries of alarm. He remained motionless with his senses stretched to their limit.

“Did you hear that noise?” Someone shouted from inside the building.

“Shit,” Sol swore after hearing the person speak.

“It must be our chattel trying to escape. Get him!” An authoritative voice steeped with glamour responded. It likely belonged to a full-blood vampire of Clan Sanguine.

“Who’s escaping? I’m right here,” Alaric’s voice interrupted the exchange.

“Forget the noise. We’ve got what we came for. There’s no time to waste. We have three more stops before returning to the harbour. If I’m punished for being behind schedule, I will drain each of you. Let’s go,” the full-blood commanded.

Sighing in relief, Sol hauled himself back onto the rooftop. He could see a group of four thralls surrounding Alaric with the full-blood vampire in the lead. When the escort passed below, the full-blood paused in the centre of the street to sniff the air with an expression of concentration. Sol crouched behind a smoking chimney to hide. Sol recoiled deeper into the shadows with his back pressed against the bricks as the vampire scanned the rooftop with his hiding spot. It quickly lost interest before gesturing for the escort to continue.

Sol followed at a safe distance behind the convey, becoming more agile as he gained confidence in his new abilities. He would flinch every time the full-blood paused the escort to sniff the air, becoming increasingly agitated. Sol tensed when it briefly glanced toward Alaric’s bandaged hand. He relaxed after the vampire didn’t appear interested. The convey arrived at their second destination only a few blocks away from where they collected Alaric.

A thrall approached the building then heavily banged on the door, rattling its aged hinges. An eye-slit slid open to investigate the disturbance. An aged man quickly opened the door after seeing the thrall outside.

“What do you need from this lowly watchman, m’lord? I haven’t done anything to offend, have I?” the aged man grovelled while keeping his eyes downcast.

“We are here on behalf of Clan Sanguine to collect the dockworker, Bryant. He has volunteered to work overtime to assist in the building of the Ivory Palace,” the thrall haughtily responded.

“Of course, m’lord. It would be his great honour to serve Clan Sanguine. I can lead you to his apartment personally. This way...” the watchman replied, pushing open the door while gesturing inside.

“Bullshit! No one would volunteer to break their backs for free. You human trash, are you really going to sell him out like that? Bryant’s a good man with a family and a newborn son. You don’t even give him the respect to walk out on his own. These bootlickers don’t care about any of that, they’ll drag him out of bed in front of his wife and kids then beat him like a dog for the inconvenience,” Alaric indignantly interrupted, spitting on the cobblestones with an expression of disgust.

The full-blood chuckled in amusement at his outburst while remaining silent.