The following evening Ben stood inside his newly acquired shop that was tucked safely in the Rose Yard, a backstreet alley that few people ever bothered to go down. The building had previously been a tattoo studio and the tenants had opted for an all-black decor. The windows were tinted black so nobody could see inside, the walls were painted black, and gothic electric candle lights were fixed to the walls.

Ben looked around at the interior of the little building with a broad smile on his face. Rik did not share in his enjoyment of the moment.

“This is what you wanted so badly? This pokey little establishment is hidden down an alley that’s so far out of the way that nobody even knows it exists. With your particular set of skills you could have acquired any business in town and yet you, in your infinite wisdom, demanded this one. This one.”

Rik’s criticisms went in one ear and out the other. To Ben the little building was perfect; its out-of-the-way location was ideal for his purposes, and its decor was an added business. And although Ben had swindled a man out of the money for the purchase, he still felt like he’d earned it.

“Welcome to Maidstone’s newest coffin shop,” Ben said proudly, spreading his arms wide.

Rik was unmoved. “And probably its one and only coffin shop. I highly doubt that coffin shops are a thing.”

“They must be,” Ben argued, trying to stop Rik from bursting his bubble.

“I’ve never seen one.”

Ben’s brow dipped in consideration; he’d never seen on either. “Then where do people get coffins?”

“They buy them at funeral homes as part of the package. You don’t purchase each part of the funeral individually.”

“And where do the funeral homes get them from? Surely they’re not making them all themselves. A carpenter must sell the coffins to the funeral homes.” Ben shook his head, realising that he was getting caught up in unnecessary details. “Not that it matters because this isn’t going to be a real business. I just need a place to hide my loculum recro in plain sight,” said Ben. If coffin shops weren’t real then it would keep everybody out of his fake business which was precisely what he wanted. He walked over to the reception desk that still sported the previous business’ logo on its front. “This will have to go.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if you turned this place into a real business?” Rik asked.

Ben turned to him, one eyebrow raised. He had no intention of spending his eternal life running a back-alley coffin shop, or any other business for that matter. “I didn’t become a vampire so I could become small businessman of the year.”

“Think about it.” The warlock hopped up and planted his backside on the reception desk sending a cloud of disturbed dust into Ben’s face. “A coffin shop that nobody ever goes to will eventually attract the attention of potential enemies. If they realise it’s a fake business they’ll figure out you’re using it in some kind of subterfuge. Also, at some point you’re probably going to need more money, correct? Wouldn’t it be more beneficial if you had some wonga coming in through a legitimate stream, rather than going around ripping off drug dealers and loan sharks? It would certainly be simpler because that little excursion round the town to get the cash for this less than fine establishment was not something I want to repeat.”

“I see your point,” Ben conceded, never one to deny the logic of a person’s argument. “But I don’t know anything about the funeral trade and neither do you. And a vampire running a funeral home is bit on the nose, don’t you think?”

Rik shook his head and waved his hand as if Ben’s objection was a trifle matter. “So we stick with your peculiar coffin shop idea rather than going for the full funeral package. We hire somebody to run the place and make all the coffins for us. Think about it, we turn the basement into a carpentry workshop or whatever you call a place where coffins are built. Up here we have the coffin showroom. Upstairs we put coffins that aren’t currently on display, including your nifty little loculum recro, or regeneration coffin as the layman calls it.”

“Does the layman really call it that?”

“The layman doesn’t even know it exists. But what about my idea, snazzy right?”

“It could work,” Ben agreed. “Of course, I’d have to mesmerise the staff to forget anything unusual they see. In fact, I could go around and mesmerise all the funeral homes to make us their exclusive coffin supplier. Then we’d have plenty of money coming in.” Ben was growing more excited as he threw his ideas out into the world. Rik nodded along enthusiastically.

“And of course, since it was my idea and I did help you acquire this decadently gothic venue, I get to be a full partner,” he said, jumping down from the desk. “Fifty-fifty.”

“Maybe sixty-forty,” Ben said. It was his first business negotiation.

“I’ve done as much for this startup as you have. And let us not forget that you need a warlock to help you construct the loculum recro.”

Rik had contributed as much to the enterprise as he had. The biggest investor had been the loan shark and he wasn’t getting a cut at all. “Fine. Fifty-fifty.” It hardly mattered since money was not a necessary thing for Ben. Mesmerisation was the only currency he needed.

“Excellent. However, I don’t actually know how to make the magic coffin. Obviously, I know the basics: dirt in a coffin, but beyond that, I’m in the dark.” Seeing that Ben’s mood was rapidly souring, Rik raised an objective finger. “The information we need can easily be found within the pages of the Coven’s dusty old grimoires. Which I am currently unable to access.”

Ben sighed in frustration and turned to look out the window only to be reminded that the windows were blacked out. “Surely somebody else knows how to do it.”

“Indubitably. However, I don’t know who that somebody might be. This strand of magic is one of those closely guarded secrets. Very few vampires know how it’s done, otherwise, vampires would be a good deal harder to kill. And obviously, witches aren’t that keen on helping make vampires harder to kill.”

Ben strode across the store and went behind the reception desk. The previous tenants had discarded various items of stationery in the drawers and Ben found himself a dusty old notebook and a biro with a chewed cap. He pulled off the cap and discarded it across the room, not wanting to be anywhere near the germ-infected thing. Even as a vampire he was a bit of a germaphobe.

“Are you planning on figuring it out with a good old bit of brainstorming?” Rik asked, an amused grin plastered on his face.

Ben rolled his eyes. “No. you’re going to tell me where those grimoires are and then we’re going to plan how to steal them.”

By the way Rik’s eyes widened anybody would have thought he’d just been asked to seduce his own mother. He never got to voice his objections, however, because the shop’s door opened with a little jingle. The bell above the door would be removed along with the reception desk.

“Easy! Easy!” David said, offering the pair his palms when he saw the vicious snarl on Ben’s face. “I’m not here to fight.”

“That makes a nice change,” Ben growled. He took in the thick bandage stuck to the side of David’s neck and smiled. “How’s that lovebite treating you?”

“Don’t be disgusting,” David said, sneering.

“If you’re not here for a sequel to our little scuffle, then what exactly has brought your unwelcome trotters to us?” Rik asked.

“And how did you know we were here?” Ben added.

Rik turned to Ben and said, “The Coven magically tracks all its members and technically, I am still a member.” He turned back to David. “We’ll have to see about getting that tracking spell turned off though, won’t we?”

“So they know exactly where I live then?” Ben asked. Rik had said the Coven didn’t know where to find them.

“No, no. Your place is protected by all my spells. The best they could do is track me to right outside.” That didn’t sound much better.

David interrupted them. “I am here to apologise for my attack on you. The Sorceress would like me to tell you that she did not order the attack and she didn’t know anything about it either. She wants to assure you that I will…” he paused, unable or unwilling to finish his sentence. The whole way through his speech his eyes were glued to the floor.

“Spit it out,” Rik said. On his face a malicious grin was spreading his mouth from ear to ear.

David’s eyebrows turned sharply down and his eyes filled with hate. “I will be punished for my misbehaviour.”

Ben and Rik shared a silent moment of joy at David’s discomfort before they both began to laugh. David’s nostrils flared and his hands curled into tight fists at his sides.

“Well, you were a terribly naughty boy, it was good of your mummy to send you here to apologise to us,” Ben mocked, enjoying the increasing level of anger David was exhibiting. For attacking them outside Izzy’s home he deserved much worse.

“Is that it or are you going to flog yourself for our pleasure too?” Rik asked. His eyes were bright with glee.

David drew in a deep breath and then expelled it noisily as if the sound would be enough to silence their mockery. “The Sorceress invites you both to her home to talk about an ending this nonsense. Afternoon tea tomorrow, three-thirty.” He turned to Ben and added. “The time is non-negotiable.”

Having delivered his message he turned on the spot, concealing his bright red face, and stormed out. Before the door had even closed behind him, Ben and Rik fell about laughing like a couple of schoolboys.

They sat in Ben’s car on the driveway of the Sorceress’ house in Penenden Heath. UV-protected windows shielded Ben from the effects of the sun whilst he was inside the car, and he’d dressed in heavy layers to protect himself when he left the car. The sun would still weaken him but as long as they were invited into the house quickly, he would avoid that side effect too.

The Sorceress owned a fairly large house, as Ben had expected her to. The house boasted a spacious driveway and two garages, one on either side of the red-bricked abode. Plant beds hosted an array of colourful flowers under the windows. The home was opposite the Heath giving it an excellent view of the vast recreational field and the woods that stood beyond it.

Ben glanced at the only other car on the driveway; a red BMW. That surely meant that the whole Coven wasn’t waiting inside to ambush them.

“You don’t need to worry, Christine doesn’t permit fighting of any kind inside her home. She’s invited us here to talk and nothing else,” Rik assured him, obviously picking up on his unease.

“Then why invite us here in the day?” Ben asked. The timing had obviously been chosen to weaken Ben.

“This is her attempt at reclaiming some power. So far we’ve beaten them at every turn. But don’t get cocky. Christine is no pushover.” Rik pushed open his door and hopped out of the car. “Why don’t you stay in the car until the front door is open.”

“I’m not going to let them see me hiding like a weakling. I’m supposed to be protecting you,” Ben replied. He pulled his hood over his head and grabbed his sunglasses, sliding them onto his face. “She had to pick such a sunny day,” he mumbled to himself before exiting the vehicle.

He pulled his zipper right up to his chin with his gloved hands, taking no chances with the sun's treacherous rays. Despite Rik’s assurances, he still expected an ambush and he wanted to be as strong as possible. He’d guzzled more than enough blood from his blood bag stash before leaving.

When the front door opened, Ben was surprised to see Grace, the girl from the meeting at the pub. She was dressed casually in slacks and had her blonde hair tied in a loose ponytail. Ben spotted her iPhone in her hand, the device seemingly an extension of herself.

“Come in then,” she said, apparently already bored of them.

Even as Grace led them through to the living room she raised her phone and began tapping away on the screen. She must have had a horrifically busy social life if she needed to send that many messages all the time. Being a rather unsocial person himself, Ben couldn’t think of anything worse. He got irritated if his phone went off more than once a day.

Everything in the living room was cream-coloured. Two cream sofas, a cream carpet, and a furry, cream rug that sat on top of the carpet. Cream wallpaper with a floral design in a slightly darker shade of cream. Cream curtains. Sitting in a snug cream armchair in the corner of the room was a thin woman with shoulder-length silver hair. Green eyes glimmered above well-defined cheekbones and her pink lips offered a polite smile that did not reach her eyes.

Grace immediately dropped onto the sofa that sat on the older woman’s left. The woman—Ben presumed to be Christine—shot a disapproving sideways glance.

“Please excuse my daughter’s ill manners, she isn’t accustomed to seeing people in person; she instead tends to do the majority of her communicating via her mobile telephone which she is now going to put down,” the Sorceress’ voice was crisp and clipped.

Grace hit the lock button on her phone before placing her device face down on the sofa cushion next to her. It immediately buzzed as a new notification came through and the girl’s fingers twitched as she resisted picking it back up.

Christine nodded in approval. “Riku it is good to see you again after so many weeks of estrangement. You must be Benjamin.”

“Benedict,” Ben corrected.

Christine’s eyes flashed with recognition. “Benedict, my apologies. What a lovely name, so much better than Benjamin. Forgive me for not standing to greet you, but I am old and my bones prefer me to remain seated more often than not these days.’ She noticed Ben’s expression and added, “Although I am not yet sixty, I lived an active youth and my bones are taking it out on me now. Please do have a seat.” She gestured to the empty sofa on her right-hand side.

Ben’s eyes flicked to the window that stood behind the vacant sofa. Rich golden beams of light shone down on the cushions with a viciousness reserved only for him.

“Ah, of course,” said Christine. She muttered an odd word and the curtains sprung closed bathing the room in blissful dimness.

Ben and Rik obediently sat down, Rik taking the seat closer to Christine. A coffee table stood before them and an ornate cream tablecloth had been used to smother any signs of its brown wood. An expensive-looking teapot stood proudly with several china cups and saucers around it. A selection of cakes and sandwiches had been placed around the table too. Ben looked sorrowfully at the offerings he could not consume for fear of vomiting all over the cream living room. He imagined that would probably sour the negotiations. If negotiations were indeed what they had been called here for.

Christine poured the tea herself, handing the cups over one at a time for everybody to add their own milk and sugar. Ben accepted his cup and sniffed it with suspicion.

“Fear not, Benedict, I didn’t invite the two of you here to poison you. Whatever would the neighbours think if they saw me disposing of two young men?”

“There are curses that can be cast from across town anyway,” Grace added. Despite the blunt way in which she said it, Ben found Grace’s words far more comforting than Christine’s.

“Indeed there are,” confirmed Christine. She handed one of the cups to Rik. “You haven’t been to see your mother in over three weeks she tells me.” She pursed her lips like a disapproving aunt. “Your bed has remained unslept in and your grimoires have been removed from the house.”

“Yes, well when she sided with you lot over our disagreement I took it a tad personally,” Rik explained. He began heaping spoonfuls of sugar into his beverage much to the disgust of everybody else in the room.

Grace reached for her phone but a harsh glare from her mother stopped her in her tracks. She grabbed a custard cream and bit into that instead.

“David assured me that he delivered his sincere apology to you both for his poor behaviour the other night. As his Sorceress, I would like to take this opportunity to apologise on behalf of the Coven as well.”

Neither Rik nor Ben said anything to her apology since it lacked the very sincerity she had mentioned. Now that Ben was sitting before her, he did not for one moment believe that Christine had had nothing to do with David’s attack. She had most likely ordered it simply to test their defences.

“As it happens, some good has come out of that unfortunate encounter,” the Sorceress continued. “David told me how impressively you fought, Benedict.”

“Ben is fine,” Ben said, annoyed by the constant use of his full name. He was so used to his bullies using it to mock him that he couldn’t hear anything but torment when people used it.

“Ben,” Christine amended, inclining her head and nodding. “David told me that you single-handedly took on three fully-trained witches. Paint me impressed.” She turned to Rik without waiting for a response. “Rik, David told me that you do not wish to stand trial for the rules which you broke?”

“David spoke truthfully. I wish to leave the Coven and go my own way,” he said. He slurped his tea loudly. Ben suspected that he was trying to be annoying since he’d never heard Rik drink so noisily before.

“To leave the Coven on such ill terms is unprecedented and to allow you to walk away without answering for the life that you took is simply not the done thing. The Coven has rules and traditions both of which have always been upheld by every Sorcerer and Sorceress before me.”

“Just because something has always been done a certain way doesn’t mean it has to be done that way. Time marches ever onwards and rules can be rewritten,” Rik said.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw Grace dunk a biscuit in her tea only for most of the snack to break off and sink to the bottom of her cup. Her nostrils flared as she watched it sink. He snorted quietly behind his hand. The young girl heard him and narrowed her eyes at him but he refused to meet her gaze.

Christine placed her cup and saucer down on the table and rested her hands palm down on her legs. “In principle, I disagree with you entirely for it is the traditions and the time honoured practices of an institution that make it truly great.” She brushed a dot of fluff from her skirt before continuing. “However, on this occasion, I believe that a mutually beneficial deal could be struck.”

Rik hurriedly put his cup down, excitement rushing to his eyes. “I’m listening.”

“Be warned, this is the only covenant that we will offer you; if you reject it, you will stand trial for what you have done. If you refuse to attend your trial we shall pass sentence on you regardless.”

“What’s the deal?”

“You will not stand trial for your crimes and will instead be exiled without a fair hearing. When we take into consideration the person you killed and your reasons for doing so, we find that some leniency can be granted. You will have no further involvement in any Coven business and you will be forbidden to set foot in Penenden Heath unless invited to do so by myself or my successors. You will not practice sacrificial magic anywhere in Maidstone. If you adhere to these conditions then the Coven will leave you to your own devices and go on as if you were never even a member. However, should you break any of these terms you will be apprehended, detained, and forced to stand trial. I warn you now that such a trial will end extremely negatively for you.”

Rik stroked the light stubble on his chin as he considered the offer. Ben thought it was amusing that he was even bothering to think it over. It was fairly clear that Christine was not going to negotiate with him. His choices were to take the deal or stand trial.

“You can’t dictate what I do outside of Coven territory,” Rik said.

Christine nodded and Ben saw a small glint in her eyes that told him she’d only included that clause so that he would get her to remove it. That way he’d agree to the rest. Clearly, she was a shrewd negotiator.

“That can be amended,” she said. “How about, you must keep your actions discreet so that the Coven is not aware of them. You understand I am sure, that we cannot allow a warlock to commit murder on our doorstep.”

Rik thought it over before nodding. “Agreed.”

“And you must be made aware that should you find yourself in any kind of trouble with one of the other Maidstone covens then we will be able to offer you no assistance.”

“Understood,” Rik said. Ben wondered how many covens were in Maidstone and if they were all as pompous as the Penenden Heath one.

“Excellent. Now let us discuss payment.”

“Payment?” If Rik had been holding his tea he would likely have dropped it.

“Yes, the deal would be rather one-sided if you did not offer something in return, don’t you think?”

Rik’s face darkened and his hands curled into fists in his lap. “What do you want?”

“Our coven is negotiating a merger with the Ringlestone Coven. Grace will marry Kieron thus uniting the covens through matrimony.”

Ben glanced at Grace but her expression was impossible to read.

“How very archaic,” Rik muttered. Ben did not disagree with him.

Christine continued as though she had not heard his criticism. “As you know, our two covens have not always seen eye-to-eye.”

“Is that how you’d describe the bloodbath of 1902?” Rik turned to Ben. “The covens had a bit of a messy war.”

“Anyway,” she said sternly. “I would be remiss in my duties as Sorceress if I did not at least suspect some chicanery, and I would be negligent in my duties as a mother if I did provide Grace with adequate protection.”

“Ah, you want me to protect her?” Rik said. He leaned back smugly.

Christine chuckled lightly. “No, my dear. No, I would hardly ask you to provide magical protection when I have an entire coven at my disposal. No, this requires another kind of protection, the kind that the Ringles won’t anticipate.”

“Vampire protection,” Ben said, catching on to her meaning. So that was why she was so impressed by his handling of David and his sidekicks. That was why she’d sent them after him.

“Precisely,” she said with a cunning smile. “You’ve already proven yourself more than capable. You would only need to protect her through the courtship. The union is to be cemented during the celebration of Ostara just a few weeks from now. The moment she has a wedding ring on her finger your services will no longer be required and Rik’s deal will be granted in full. Naturally, he will be granted the terms of the covenant from the moment you both agree. ”

Ben again glanced at Grace to see how she felt about the situation but she’d managed to sneak her phone into her hands without anybody noticing. She was staring at the screen, cheeks flushed red. For once though, her fingers were not tapping. She was motionless. She was listening and something about the arrangement had distressed her. Probably the part where she was being married off like a medieval princess.

“I don’t know,” Ben said. He had enough on his plate without getting in the middle of a coven war.

“I am quite sure that there are no shenanigans at play, this is merely a precaution. You would only need to act as a chaperone when my daughter meets with the Ringle boy.”

“You do owe me,” Rik said, giving Ben his best puppy dog eyes. “I saved your life. Now I need you to save mine.”

“This is more complicated,” Ben said.

“The alternative is saving me from the Penenden Coven and you’ll have to kill them all to save me because I am not standing in any trial,” Rik pointed out.

Far from being offended, Christine nodded in agreement. “He speaks the truth, and I guarantee you would be unsuccessful in that endeavour. Taking on three witches is one thing, but an entire coven…Well, some things are best left unsaid.”

Ben looked around the room as if he might find the answer lurking on the walls. Photos of Grace at various different ages decorated the walls. Surprisingly she didn’t have an iPhone in any of the pictures.

“How about you sweeten the pot?” Ben asked.

Christine raised her eyebrows in surprised delight. “Please elaborate,” she said.

“Rik is helping me with a complicated bit of magic and he is certain that the information he needs is in your library. Let him use the library one last time to find the spell he needs and I’ll agree to your deal.”

“Hmm,” Christine said, pretending to consider it. “I could grant this to you, however, I will add a warning to our covenant. Should you fail to protect my daughter and your negligence results in the loss of her life or any permanent harm, your own life will be forfeit.”

That changed things in ways that Ben did not like. He was still figuring out everything that he could do and he honestly had no idea if he could protect Grace from a bunch of witches. Putting his life on the line seemed like a stupid idea. Although, if he had the loculum recro then he could survive death.

“Rik gets to use the library right now,” Ben insisted.

“I accept your terms.” Christine smiled like a fox who’d tricked a chicken into leaving the coop. She extended her hand for Ben to shake. “Let’s get this written and signed.”

🦇 🦇 🦇

Erin’s wrists had been burned red by the silver chains that kept her fixed to the wall of the penthouse suite. She tried to remain as still as possible because every time the manacles moved her skin sizzled and burned.

Aiden had been left unchained in the corner but there didn’t seem to be any risk of him going anywhere. Erin had tried speaking to him multiple times but all he did was stare ahead, his eyes filled with a distant terror.

“Aiden left us some time ago,” Darius informed her.

He had reverted to his human form and no longer sported his monstrous bat visage. His flawless good looks juxtaposed his other form like contrasting ends of a magnet. His dark hair was tied back and his eyes twinkled as though they held a delicious secret.

Darius was one of the oldest and most powerful vampires in the world and his power oozed through the nonchalant way he held himself. The way he sat slumped in his chair with one leg dangling lazily over the arm showed that he perceived nobody as a threat. If Erin remembered correctly, Theo had once told her that in terms of age and power Darius was second only to Teremun himself.

“Our interrogation methods tipped the boy over the edge,’ said the only other vampire in the room; a young-looking woman with a figure that Erin would have killed for back when she’d been young, insecure, and human.

Standing behind Darius she leaned over and draped her arms over his shoulders. He nuzzled his head into her and planted a rough kiss on her neck. Erin screwed up her face at the exhibition; she’d never been a big fan of public displays of affection.

“Our methods of extracting information can be intense,” said Darius. The woman’s throat muffled his words.

The woman’s hand drifted lower until her fingers massaged his exposed, lightly-haired chest.

“Did you force him to watch this cringe-worthy performance?” she asked. She carelessly gestured with her hand and the silver manacle shifted invoking a fresh wave of sizzling agony through her.

“Careful,” said Darius with mock concern. He sat up, pulling away from his paramour. “Before he flew out on a mental vacation, Aiden told us that he murdered his lover, Theo, during an elaborate ritual. He wouldn’t tell us the purpose of Theo’s ritual, or even how he murdered him. My dear, sweet, Mia here, employed some of her more vigorous methods and managed to force your name out of him, but that was all we got before he packed up for good. Knowing your history with Theodric it seemed logical that a visit to you should be our next step.”

Mia. The name triggered something in Erin’s head but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what it was.

“So, Theo was up to something so dastardly that Aiden murdered him, and you were in some way involved. Aiden is definitely not strong enough to best a five-hundred-year-old vampire on his own which rather puts you in the frame. And given that Theo executed your brother and locked you away for several decades, I’d say you had plenty of motive.”

Erin shook her head at the two vampires who were staring eagerly at her for answers. “Aiden was talking shit. I haven’t seen Theo since he released me.”

Darius smiled like a tiger who’d cornered his prey. “If you haven’t seen Theo since he released you then how have you come to be so familiar with Aiden that you recognised him on sight? After all, Theo and Aiden were only romantically involved for less than a year. I don’t believe they even crossed paths until after your release.”

Erin knew that she was beaten. All the other pieces on the board had been taken and Darius had her penned in tight. Checkmate.

“We’re in America. I plead the fifth,” she said before settling back and falling silent.

Darius deflated in disappointment. “Back when you were Theo’s prisoner he told me you were stubborn. He said that even after all that time locked away you still didn’t break.” He leaned forward in his chair, planting his elbows on his knees and grinning sadistically. “I’m not Theo. You’ll break for me.”

Mia walked across the room, her heels clopping on the marble floor.

“Breaking me is pointless if I don’t know anything,” Erin said, she followed Mia’s feet across the floor, dreading every step the woman took.

“If that’s true then I am very sorry for what you’re about to go through,” said Darius. “If you’re being dishonest, remember you can stop pleading the fifth any time you like.”

Mia stopped at the mahogany table that was decorated with a vase of orchids. There was a large black vanity case that Erin suspected did not contain any makeup. Mia opened the box carefully and pulled out a pair of long black gloves which she took her time putting on her hands.

“What is pleading the fifth?” asked Mia, clearly not a learned woman.

“Oh, it’s part of the American constitution. I would tell you all about it but I fear I’d bore us all to sleep,” said Darius. “And things are about to get so interesting.”

“Theo was a dick,” Erin said. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to show that she wasn’t afraid, or simply justifying killing him.

Darius only nodded in agreement. “I can’t say I disagree. But he was a dick who worked for me. If you attack my people, you attack me. I can’t just shrug this off like a carton of spilt milk.”

Mia approached Erin, something cupped in her gloved hand.

“What have you got?” Erin demanded, pushing her back right up against the wall in an effort to get away from her would-be torturer.

Mia swept her leg to one side, hooking Erin’s chains around her ankle and yanking them hard. Erin tipped her head back and screamed. Mia tipped her hand over and dropped its contents on Erin’s face. There was a brief moment of confusion as Erin saw the tiny pieces of glitter falling down on her. She realised too late that what she thought was glitter was in fact tiny shards of silver. The silver filings fell on her face and thanks to Mia’s expert aim, the majority landed in Erin’s eyes.

Erin screamed loudly enough to wake the city as the little pieces of metal drove deeper into her eyeballs, filling the sockets with fiery anguish and melting the globes to blobs of pulp. Erin’s vision filled with bright flashes of light before the blackness swooped like closing curtains leaving her totally blind. Then the blackness vanished too, leaving her seeing nothing.

She flung her head forward and scraped at her face in an effort to remove as much of the silver as possible. She barely felt the burn of her manacles now that she had a significantly worse pain in her eyes—or what was left of her eyes.

Nobody tried to stop her, they left her to it as she worked frantically to ease her pain and restore her vision. If this was what they started with she did not want to even imagine what else they had in store for her. Eventually, she managed to alleviate her torment, but it would take hours for her eyes to grow back. She remained bent over on her knees, sobbing quietly, too ashamed to let them hear her cry.

“When they grow back, Mia will blind you again. You will be amazed by how many ways there are to steal a person’s vision. This will continue until you tell us what we want to know, or you end up as broken as Aiden. And since we are all immortal, there really is no end in sight.”

Mia snorted with laughter.

“Oops,” Darius said playfully. “That was a poor choice of words.”

“It’s morning now, Erin, my love,” Mia said sweetly. Erin wanted to tear out her vocal cords and shove them back down her throat via her mouth. “Is there anything you want to tell us before we go to bed?”

Erin breathed heavily, still struggling to gain control over her crying. “I don’t know anything.”

“That is a pity.”

Erin heard the woman’s boots coming closer and braced herself for another attack. But Mia did not touch her. Instead, Erin heard the curtains being yanked open and then she felt the heat of the morning sun falling over her like a the heat from an oven.

The lingering pain in her eye sockets was amplified and Erin collapsed fully to the floor, the sun siphoning what little strength she had. She moved left, then right, trying to escape the hateful rays, but the sun reached her wherever she went.

She felt Mia’s hand stroking her hair like a mother might stroke the head of her child. “We’ll leave you like this until nightfall. Hopefully then you’ll remember something about what happened to Theo.”

The next voice she heard was Darius’. “Should you find a way to free yourself of those chains, escape is impossible. The entire top two floors of this hotel are populated with my vampires. If they catch you they have my authority to hurt you in any way they deem to be appropriate, barring death. As you will quickly come to learn, those under my employ are very creative.”

“Have a lovely day!” Mia said cheerfully.

Erin heard the duo’s footsteps moving away from her across the room. Then a door closed and Erin was left alone with only the comatose Aiden for company. She huddled into a ball in an effort to shield herself from the blazing sun and started to cry.