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Auris did a fantastic job of being a pillow. I didn’t manage proper sleep—the jostling of the train, the unfamiliar noises, those wouldn’t let me get there—but I closed my eyes and let him hold me. I became aware of him whenever my tired mind slipped into a noose of fear, when memories of moldy grout, nicotine breath, and drowning twined their fingers around my throat. Auris could tell, and he’d whisper things in my ear—nothing I could remember, but whatever he said calmed me.

Firmer caresses pulled me back from that light slumber. The sky was lighter now, and the train was slowing down.

I rubbed my eyes. “They checking passports now?”

Auris kissed me, a quick brush of dry lips against my own. “No, we’re here.”

I nodded, and after a thorough stretch and yawn, I stood and picked up my backpack and camera bag. Auris handled the rest of my luggage and me on top of that, seeing as I had entered that zombie state that happened when you took a nap instead of skipping sleep altogether.

Walking through the train station jolted me awake as much as was physically possible on account of how pretty it was. Not so much the newer metal and glass part with its cream marble floor, but we left that part and got to the front of the station, which had a buttery yellow stone cupola with statues at its base. I slowed and was reaching for my camera before I was even fully aware I was doing it.

“Anything the matter?” There was laughter in Auris’s voice.

I unzipped my camera case. “Nah.”

“It isn’t at all abandoned, this train station,” Auris said, his silver eyes twinkling.

I aimed my lens up to catch all the colors, the domed architecture, the light. Click. “I’m taking a break from working. I’m beat.” I captured Auris glancing sideways, a clock above his head, light filling the air in sheets of brightness. Click.

He tsked. “Ethan, will you not allow your model a break as well?”

“Nah.” I went on. I took maybe twenty good photos, and the one with him not quite looking at the camera was the best. Not because of anything I had done, but because it had him in it.

When I put my camera away again, Auris gave me a happy kind of look and waved to a man who’d been standing at a distance. I hadn’t noticed him there at all. He’d picked a spot where the light wasn’t good and where there was nothing interesting to see.

“Mr. Salek,” the man said, his accent pronounced.

“Jan, thanks for waiting. Ethan, meet our driver and my property manager here in Prague.”

“Hi.” I bowed my head, then reached up to make sure my mask was in place.

Jan, whose name Auris had pronounced as “Yawn,” was older than Gloria, Auris’s housekeeper back in Brightam. Jan clearly cared about appearances, judging by his suit and slicked-back hair, but he didn’t wear the clothes or the hair like he was used to either.

I’d learned to tell that about a person, because in the art world, people who weren’t used to wearing suits but had bothered to put them on for an event never bought your photographs off a gallery wall. Those who didn’t like wearing suits and showed up in grunge or—on one memorable occasion—pajamas, oftentimes made difficult customers, but they also bought in bulk if they liked something.

While we followed Jan to the car, I wondered about whether I’d ever do anything like that again, show up at a gallery to mingle and talk to potential buyers. It was like facing lockdown, but different. It wasn’t terrible and scary, just unfamiliar.

I volunteered to sit in the back, and I stared out at the city while, in the front, Auris and Jan ventured into a dry discussion of the property and upgrades that had been made since Auris had last visited. By the time we crossed a bridge, I knew I’d enjoy spending some time here. The sunlight reflected off the water in ripples, blindingly gold.

“How long are we going to stay?” I asked when there was a break in the conversation in the front.

Auris turned. “A few weeks at a minimum, but we can stay longer if you feel comfortable here, my sweet.”

“Cool.” I pursed my lips when I remembered we’d come to Prague because Auris had learned that the church had murdered another vampire here. “The city. Not why we’re here.”

“I know. It’s fine. Everything will be fine.”

Auris opened the door with a flourish. “Welcome, to our home while we stay in the Golden City.”

I crossed the threshold into what had to be a huge apartment that took up the entire top floor of the building. He carried my bags inside, closing the oddly enforced door behind us, and left my camera gear on the parquet in the wide hallway. His interior designer had gone with three main colors: black, ash gray, and gold. The hallway was bare apart from a large mirror with an antique gold frame.

“Wow, it’s big.” There was an actual echo in the hallway too. “How long have you owned this place?”

I took in the crown molding and gold leaf and the polished wooden floor that shimmered a dark, reddish brown. I peered into a room that branched off the hallway, a living room. The high ceilings combined with just a few furniture pieces made the shiny black walls look warm rather than oppressive, and I giggled when I saw a fireplace with another large mirror above it. Two massive armchairs sat in front of it, easily big enough for a nap, and the fluffy gold and white pillows made me crave one.

“Long.” Auris walked past me and turned into a room on the far end of the hallway. “I gave the designer carte blanche, incidentally. She kept the old chandelier in the dining room, but most other things didn’t meet her vision. Or rather, they didn’t bring her joy. I believe that’s how she went about this place.”

“Shame about the chandelier. Doesn’t she know you don’t use the dining room that much?”