"I have brought eleven Old Family with me," he says. "Every family is represented, except the Ashers. Each representative here is willing to die in order to stop this madness that Sin has created."

Twelve is one too many. Victor doesn't seem surprised by the number. He must have expected one family to send two representatives. I wonder what the story is.

I look at the Old Family soldiers. Each one is young and dashing, rivaling Victor and Richard in looks. But I see no women. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Even if they are fast and strong, they're simply too rare to risk. And speaking of Old Family women, I look over at Faith to see if she's eyeing any potential suitors. But all I see is worry in her eyes.

"We brought human drivers and hunters to steer the carriages and protect us while the sun is out," Fabian continues.

I can see through some of the gla.s.s panes into a few of the carriages, their human counterparts inside, stakes bandoliered across their chests. I know Old Family at times hire humans to protect them. They demand the best and are able to pay for it. Even if some of these humans fought in the war, like Ian, they're willing to set aside their differences for the right price.

"Madame Montgomery, it is my understanding that you'll be coming with us."

"No, actually, Ian Hightower is going in my place."

Fabian stiffens, looks past me to where Ian has been waiting. "Well, Slayer, I have heard stories of your heroics. You have no need to worry about us wanting revenge, as long as you don't want the same."

"It was war," Ian says. "We were on different sides then, and we did what soldiers do. Now, it's a different war, and we're on the same side."

"Then we are of like minds. Have you a carriage? If not, I would be honored to have you ride with me."

"He's riding with me," Richard says. "But we're going by car."

I can tell from Fabian's curled lip that he finds the thought of traveling in such a vehicle distasteful. He's obviously embraced the Old Family's dislike of modern conveniences and isn't quite as rebellious as Richard and Victor are.

"Cousins!" a vampire shouts, striding toward us. From his black hair to his blue eyes and sharp royal features, he has Valentine written all over him. He stops before us. "You're looking well."

"Dawn, allow me to introduce Rayne Valentine," Victor says. "I believe you've had the honor of meeting his father, Seymour."

It wasn't that much of an honor. He is Murdoch Valentine's brother and expressed an interest in becoming head of the family once Murdoch was dead. But Victor quickly put him in his place. Diplomacy forces me to say, "I remember him well."

"He did not speak highly of you," he says. "But my father has always been a terrible judge of character, and I'm sure he made his usual mistake with you."

He takes my hand and kisses it. Then kisses it again. And again.

"All right," Victor says, playfully slapping his hand away. "I see that only some of the Valentines have kept their manners after all these years."

"Yes," he says, "and the other half have kept their good looks." He combs back his hair with his hands.

Victor laughs. "You're just as I remembered."

"Dashing?"

"Arrogant."

"I'll take it."

They pat each other on the shoulders in the exact same way any cousins would at a family reunion.

"Why are you here, Rayne?" Faith asks.

He appears taken aback by her question. "I came at Victor's behest to represent the Valentine family."

Faith shakes her head. "No, I'm going on behalf of the Valentines."

Uh-oh. Now I know why there was one more number than I expected.

"Faith," Victor says quietly, moving toward his sister. "We can't risk you going."

She spins around, her face livid. "What are you talking about?"

"If anything were to happen to youa""

"Do I have to remind you that I've already been to Los Angeles?"

"We didn't realize how bad it was then," Richard says.

Faith glares at him. "I held my own."

"You did."

"Then why did Victor send for Rayne?"

"Faitha""

"Why?"

Richard moves with such quickness, just a blur, and he's holding her, hands on her face, her tears running through his fingers.

"Because I can't protect them if you're with me. You'll be the only thing I care about. You . . . you are the only thing I care about."

"But who will protect you?" she asks, her voice just a whisper.

"They will."

She shakes her head like it isn't enough. "No one can protect you like I can."

He pulls her into his shoulder and holds her. "I know."

"I'd never hurt you."

"I know."

She isn't talking about Los Angeles anymore or protecting him from Sin's army. She pulls back, her arms around his neck. "Just return to me."

When she steps away, Victor looks at Richard and I see the loyaltya"even the lovea"they have for each other. A hundred years of a deep connection that few vampires ever experience. They hug, and when they part, Victor gives a final nod.

Before they can leave, I rush over to Ian, who is loading up the trunk of the car.

"Ian."

He turns toward me and I can sense the bristling power, the excitement of the mission to come. But I also sense the recognition that it could be one mission too many.

"Don't say goodbye," he says. "It's bad luck."

"Then what should I say?"

Ian smiles and looks up at the sky, as if recognizing for the first time how clear it is tonight.

"Just say, *I'll see you when you get back.'"

"I will. I'll see you when you get back."

He puts his hand on my head and rubs my hair, like a father proud of his little girl.

From the steps of the manor, Victor, Faith, and I watch the carriages roll out in a steady procession, led by the car that contains Richard and Ian.

"We need to get that Sin-worshipping b.i.t.c.h to talk," Faith says. "I'm in the mood to take down some Day Walkers."

Chapter 21.

Faith stalks off to her room, probably to hurl some valuables around. Victor stares off into the night sky, his mind perhaps considering the methods they used during the war. What kind of things did he do then that made people talk? I have a terrible feeling in my gut that Victor can be much, much more persuasive if he wants to be. But will that unleash the monster within? Will Victor lose what makes him so human if he has to resort to such horrific things that he locked away long ago?

"Let me talk to Eris," I say.

Victor turns and a.s.sesses me. "All right," he agrees. "Perhaps she'll be more willing to talk if you're alone with her." We walk back into the house and continue on to the study. He opens up a drawer on the desk and pulls out a metal stake. He places it in my hand. "Just in case. She'll be weaker, but it's also possible she's been faking her lack of strength. For all we know, she could just be waiting for the right opportunity to break through the chains."

I nod, understanding that if I must, I'll put this through her heart.

In the dungeon I dismiss the guard watching her. We're all alone, the pale light from the flickering lamps casting more shadows than revealing our surroundings. Eris seems weak. The combination of blood hunger and stress is finally showing on the chained emissary. She's pale, leading me to wonder whether her beautiful skin has come from the sun or a healthy supply of fresh blood. Her hair is dirty and slick with oil and sweat. Victor's ruse is having an effect. She looks like she wants to give up. For her, the strength she would gain from the Thirst is no consolation for becoming hideous.

I soften my footsteps and kneel in front of her, trying to act more like a friend than adversary. She looks up at me, surrender evident in her eyes. I brush the hair off her face, using a gentle touch.

"I want to talk," I say.

"Then talk." Her voice has lost its l.u.s.ter, replaced with the cold need to survive.

"How much longer do you have?" I ask.

"You're the vampire expert, you tell me."

"I'm no expert in the Thirst. But I've heard that a vampire can feel the change coming."

She looks away, her chest rising and falling, struggling against the constricting chains.

"I don't know," she says to the floor. "I feel weak, but I also feel like I'm on the verge of something, like a terrible black void is right behind me and I'm about to slip into it."

"I wonder if that's what my brother felt."

Her head tilts up, sorrow and confusion on her face.

"My brother was just like you," I say. "He was a Day Walker, turned by Sin."

"I know," she says quickly. I imagine she knows just about everything Sin does, which is I why I need her to talk. Even if I have to confess things I'd rather keep bottled away.

"Did Sin tell you how Brady succ.u.mbed to the Thirst?" I ask.

"No."

"Brady refused to drink from humans. He didn't want to hurt them, so he fed on vampires, thinking that would sustain him. It didn't. The Thirst took over his mind."

I wait in the silence, my delegate training telling me she wants to speak, but I have to give her time, give her a chance.

"Sin never wanted Brady to become one of the Infected. He hoped to gain another ally, much like myself. Of course, when your brother's change was complete, and Sin saw how powerful he was, it gave him the idea for the Chosen. Infected Day Walkers, the most dangerous creatures to ever walk the eartha"and Brady was the first."

I pause for a moment, preparing my next statement carefully. "And soon, you'll be another."

She releases the tiniest of squeaks. "I know."

"But you still have a choice. For you, there is still a fork in the path and a direction to choose. Just tell us how the Day Walkers are getting into the city, Eris, and all of this will stop. It isn't too late."

"You don't know that."

"Maybe not, but I know what the alternative is, and I know why you fear it. The Chosen aren't blessed like you. No, they're cursed. They may be powerful, but they trade everything for that power. The Day Walkers right now don't realize that until it's too late, but you've witnessed it firsthand, you've seen Sin's army of the Chosen begin to form, and you know the madness and darkness that grows in their souls."

Eris's eyes betray her now: They speak to me, revealing her fears. I reach down and find her hands, bound at the wrist to her body. I hold them, knowing that even in a weakened state her strength could crush the bones in my fingers. But I know what I'm doing.

"I don't want to become one," she says, her voice just above a whisper, as if it escaped from her throat when her consciousness wasn't looking.

"I know. And you don't have to. Just tell us how the Day Walkers are getting into the city."

"Sin will kill me," she says.

"He'll never know."

"Yes, he will. He always knows, and then I'll have given up the only thing he asks for: loyalty."

I tighten my grip on her hands, somewhere between violence and compa.s.sion.

"You will be dead anyway," I say, no longer sure who is the interrogator, whose soul is being peered into. "Because the Thirst will rob you of everything that you are. When I killed my brother, he looked at me, and I knew that death was a sweet release for him. His own body and mind tortured him. Don't do that to yourself, Eris."

I feel her hands shaking, I sense the walls of her will collapsing. One final push . . .