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“I can’t hear my own thoughts in this dump. The Crypt.”

Haven’t been there in a while. Lex sees my hesitation and pulls a small bag of stardust from his pocket. Pale lavender. High quality.

“It’s on me.”

Prick. He knows I’m running low and is waving the stardust like a carrot in front of me. But Max still isn’t answering. Fine then. I might as well go to the Crypt.

The Crypt is an elegant vampire club, old and private, no neon shield on the door. Only people who know about it go inside. The crowd skews older, richer and more dangerous. Not many outsiders get in, even fewer come out. The rooms are filled with leather, dark wood and dimmed lights. The silence here itches inside my ears after the chaos of Le Vertige.

Several vampires look at me when we walk in. Some are old clients, some are new, and some just think I am fresh food in the room. I can almost hear their fangs sliding out, the faint hiss of excitement passing through the lounge. I don’t like it. Lex notices it and gives everyone a cold glance, and they look away. He is Marcus’s right hand, and nobody here is stupid enough to touch what he brings in.

I see a beautiful brunette with one hand resting on an empty wine glass. Her wrist is slit open, and blood runs slowly into it. Bite marks stain her neck, and her gaze is vacant. To a vampire, a human is either a meal or a distraction. Nothing more.

We sit in a private booth near the back. Lex drops two thin lines of stardust on the table with practiced precision.

“Without Julian, will Marcus look for someone new?” I say, watching the powder settle. “Or will he finally choose you?”

Piro’s words still linger in my head. Lex smiles, but there’s no warmth in it.

“Men from villages don’t sit on thrones. I’m a good soldier. Apparently not good enough for a prince.”

Marcus is the oldest vampire in Midnight City. Over five hundred years old. Half god, half corpse, and one of only a few vampires in America that ancient. Europe and the Middle East are different stories. Older graves. But here, Marcus is an undisputable ruler. I wouldn’t be surprised if he founded this city.

Lex is nearly two hundred years old, which is still old for a city vampire. Marcus found him in some lost Swedish village after a battle, half-dead but still fighting. He was so strong he would have survived. But Marcus saw someone he wanted to own. So he took Lex’s life and gave him immortality instead. And since that day, Lex was never free.

Lex is Marcus’s right hand, but Julian was meant to be his voice. A prince is fed enough of his king’s blood to rule in his name – to run businesses, dictate the law and determine who lives and dies. And when the king is gone, the prince takes the throne. Which can take a few centuries. But it looks like Marcus never wanted a real prince, just a blood-bound asset to control more of the city. Blood.

I look at the stardust instead of his face. “Julian... I think he was a hybrid.”

Lex goes completely still.

“What are you talking about?”

“I have reasons to believe he was part blood witch.” I don’t add that the line might connect to mine.

“Are you sure?” Lex asks. “How many people know?”

“I don’t know. Some blood witches. The one I saw dead in his room probably knew it first.” I lean back. “But it’s almost impossible. Supernaturals usually die during vampire transition.”

“Usually.” His voice turns quiet. “You know better than most that not everyone…”

“He was an abomination,” I say. “And if he had blood magic, if that was real, Marcus wouldn’t be able to control him. The sire-heir bond might not hold. Maybe Julian simply wanted out. Marcus gave him unimaginable power through his ancient blood, and Julian walked away without owing him anything.”

Only after I finish the sentence do I look at Lex. The same thought sits between us. I can see it in those sad motionless blue eyes. The eyes of a dead man I once loved. An owned man that learned the hard way that life doesn’t deal everyone the same hand.

“Or maybe he never stood a chance,” I say, thinking it through. “Maybe Marcus realized what Julian was becoming and decided he wanted him gone.”

Lex’s eyes cut to mine. “Don’t fucking ask that out loud. And definitely not here.” Again, his loyalty was stronger than anything else.

“Don’t tell anyone else,” he says. “It’s best if no one finds out.”

“Southside, then?” I change the subject.

“Yes. Marcus is ready to send vampires there to shake the place up. You know how Vuković will like it.”

“He won’t,” I say. “It will look almost like a declaration of war.”

“Exactly,” he adds. “I know you still have some connections there.”