CHAPTER 19
JULIAN
Poppy falls asleep curled against my side, her face pressed to my chest.
The strange, slow beating of my heart didn’t scare her off.
She didn’t run. She held on tighter.
I wait another fifteen minutes. Her sleep deepens, and I extract my arm from beneath her head. She murmurs something and rolls over, her hand reaching for me even in sleep.
I brush the hair away from her face. Let myself look at her for one long moment.
Then I slip out of bed and head for the balcony.
The night is beautiful.
A sky crowded with stars. The moon casting silver light across the water. The distant sound of waves. Warm salt air carrying the scent of jasmine.
But Damien won’t allow me to enjoy it.
My phone shows twelve messages from him since the party began.
8:23 PM — DAMIEN: Beautiful party. Chris really outdid himself.
8:47 PM — DAMIEN: The mother doesn’t approve of you. Smart woman.
9:15 PM — DAMIEN: Fifty humans. So many heartbeats. Does it ever drive you mad, Julian? The sound of all that blood?
9:38 PM — DAMIEN: She’s wearing the green dress. Your favorite color on her. How sweet.
10:02 PM — DAMIEN: I watched you leave the party. The garden alcove? Very romantic. Very exposed.
10:34 PM — DAMIEN: Food poisoning. How unfortunate. I hope she recovers. The wedding is only two days away.
The messages continue. Each one reminding me that he’s watching, that he knows where we are, that he could strike at any moment.
Damien has been nursing this grudge since 1878. A century and a half of plotting, waiting, watching me rebuild my life so he can tear it down again.
I lean against the railing and stare at all the ways Damien could approach this building without being noticed.
After hundreds of years, I still can’t turn off the tactical part of my brain. The part that kept me alive through revolutions and two world wars.
Tonight, that part of me is screaming.
Damien is escalating. His messages are more frequent, more pointed. He’s positioning himself for something bigger. Something at the wedding, when cameras are rolling and witnesses are plentiful and maximum damage can be inflicted.
I need help.
I’ve spent centuries relying on no one, but I can’t have this end the same way as Prague. I can’t lose Poppy, too.
I pull up a number I haven’t called in thirty years.
Elena answers on the fourth ring.
“This had better be life or death, Blackthorne.” Her voice is rough with sleep and thick with Russian. “I was having a pleasant dream about Paris in 1847.”
“It is. I need you in the Bahamas.”
Silence. Sheets rustling.
“Who?” she asks.
“Damien.”
A longer silence.
“He’s still mad about Katya?”
“It appears so.”
“That was a hundred and fifty years ago, Julian. I thought he’d moved on.”
“Well, he hasn’t. And now he’s threatening someone under my protection.”
“Human?”
“Yes.”
“Complicated, isn’t it? What’s your situation?”
I give her the abbreviated version—Damien’s appearance at the resort, his surveillance, his escalating threats. The wedding in two days. The family full of targets. Poppy sleeping in the next room.
“You’re asking me to go against one of our own,” Elena says. “The Council won’t like it.”
“Let me handle the Council. Damien’s behavior has been erratic. I’m sure they’ll give me the room needed to handle it.”
“Handle it how?”
“However necessary.”
A pause.
“You saved my life,” she says. “Multiple times.”
“Yes. Now I need your help.”
“I’ll be there.” Her voice hardens. “Send me the details. Flight information, hotel arrangements, whatever you need me to do.”
“This makes us even, Elena.”
“It makes us even. Don’t make me regret it.”
She hangs up. I dial the next number.
Nathaniel answers on the second ring.
“Julian Blackthorne.” His voice is deep, amused. “Unexpected. Last time we spoke, you said you never wanted to see me again.”
“That was 1998. I’ve had time to reconsider.”
“The shipping container incident.” He laughs. “You saved my operation. My life, probably. I’ve always wondered when you’d call that debt in.”
“I’m calling it now.”
“Tell me.”
I tell him everything.
“How serious?” he asks.
“He’s threatening to kill her entire family. Expose what I am in front of everyone. Force me to choose between exile and destruction.”
“And you’re not choosing exile.”
“No.”
“Interesting.” A pause. “I’ve known you for a long time, Julian. You like your alone time. Why not just walk away?”
“Things change.”
“Apparently.” Another low laugh. “I can be there by tomorrow night. I have resources in Miami—weapons, contacts, a boat if we need a quick exit. What’s your plan?”
“Contain him—away from civilians. End this one way or another.”
“And if ending it means killing him?”
I think about how Damien used to be before I made him into the monster he is now. He was a good man once. My best friend. Someone I would have done anything for. But times have changed, and he’s left me no other choice.
“Then we kill him,” I say. “If that’s what it takes.”
“Good. I was hoping you’d say that. Send me coordinates. I’ll bring everything we need.”
He hangs up. I dial the third number.
Sofia doesn’t bother with pleasantries.
“Damien is in the Bahamas,” I say.
“Say no more.” Her voice is cold. “I’ve been waiting for an excuse.”
“You know what happened in Belfast.”
“I know he killed my progeny. I know he left her ashes in a box on my doorstep with a note that said ‘regards.’” Her voice doesn’t waver, but I can hear the fury beneath it. “I’ve been tracking him for decades, Julian. If you’re telling me that moment is now—”
“It’s now. He’s threatening people I care about. I need allies.”
“You have one. When and where?”
“Nassau. Day after tomorrow. The wedding is at four PM—that’s when he’ll make his move.”
“I’ll be there by morning.” Her voice sharpens. “And Julian, if we’re doing this, we do it right. No half measures. He’s had a hundred and fifty years to walk away from his vendetta. He chose not to.”
“Agreed.”
“Then I’ll see you soon.”
She hangs up.
Three calls. Three allies. Three vampires who owe me debts or share my enemies.
It might not be enough.
While I was accumulating wealth, Damien could have been honing his skills, planning for this kind of confrontation.
The weight of it all hits me. Things might be uncertain right now, but uncertain is better than impossible.
The night concierge’s text breaks my spiral into what may or may not happen.
CONCIERGE: Delivery ready. Shall I send it up?
I type back:
ME: Yes.
Minutes later, the familiar insulated bag appears outside the door. I drink quickly, efficiently—not savoring it, just fueling up. Who knows when I might require strength I haven’t needed in decades. Better to be prepared.
The staff here never ask questions. That’s why I invested in this place thirty years ago, why I expanded LifeSource’s distribution network to include the Bahamas.
Vampires need vacations, too. We need places where we can exist without constantly hiding, where the logistics of immortality are handled with the same professionalism as room service and turndown.
It’s one of my quieter achievements. No board meetings. No quarterly reports. Just a handful of properties around the world where creatures like me can briefly pretend we’re not monsters.
I stay on the balcony for another hour, texting Rebecca all the details so she can make the travel arrangements and handle resort logistics for everyone.
Then I call Marcus. He answers before the first ring finishes—he’s been monitoring the feeds all night.
“I saw the party footage,” he says without preamble. “Damien’s getting bolder. He let himself be caught on three different cameras tonight. He’s not even trying to hide anymore.”
“He’s wants me to know he’s watching.”
“It’s working.” A pause. Keys clicking. “The pattern’s changed, Julian. First two days, he was careful. Surgical. Now he’s circling closer, staying longer in exposed positions. He’s building toward something.”
“The wedding. Day after tomorrow.”
“That’s my read. Maximum witnesses, maximum chaos.” More clicking. “I need to be there. Resort security is good, but they’re not equipped for what Damien might bring.”
“Do it. Bring the full tactical kit—comms, surveillance gear, weapons. And bring Lucas and Bastine to assist you.”
“Already positioned. I had them fly to Miami two days ago when Damien first appeared on the feeds.”
Of course he did. Fifty years working together, and Marcus still anticipates moves I haven’t made yet.
“There will be three others arriving tomorrow morning. Elena, Nathaniel, and Sofia.”
“Wow, you called in the A-team, didn’t you?”
“There’s no room for error on this, so yes.”
“Understood. I’ll coordinate with them when they land. Rebecca will send travel arrangements.”
“Thank you, Marcus.”
“Save the thanks for after we win.”
As I stare up at the night sky, I realize that somewhere in the resort, fifty people are sleeping off champagne and celebration, unaware that monsters walk among them. Unaware that one of those monsters wants to tear them apart.
I head back inside.
Poppy hasn’t moved. She’s still curled on her side, her face peaceful, her hand reaching for the empty space beside her. The food poisoning has passed—her color is better, her breathing easier.
I stand in the doorway and watch her.
I’ve watched lovers sleep before. Margaret. Corinne. Anya. Their lives lost before it was time.
They’re all gone now.
I cross to the bed. Lie down beside her.
She stirs. Reaches for me. Her hand finds my arm and she sighs, settling back into deeper sleep.
“I love you,” I whisper.
Now I have to keep her alive long enough to build the future those words promise.
I close my eyes.
All I can think about is Vienna.
I try not to—I’ve spent years trying not to—but tonight, with Damien’s threats fresh and the weight of what’s coming pressing down, I can’t stop the memories.