“She might.”

  “Because you think she’s hot?”

  “Because I could be myself with her. She already knows about vampires.”

  Aurora shook her head. “She knows more than the average person, but is that enough? Let’s set aside the whole immortality thing. What kind of relationship could you have with her? Do you think she’ll wait for you while we’re traveling? What will your conversations be like and what if your past comes up? You didn’t always have blood in your fire. Remember all the fun things we used to do?”

  Aurora’s words stung. When she was a new vampire, Lydia was just as sadistic as Aurora. At one point, they were called the terror sisters. Since she regained her empathy, Lydia felt ashamed of who she was.

  Aurora pressed on. “How would you handle the whole day and night schedules? She’ll wake up just as you’re about to sleep. Are you two going to say ‘Shalom Shabbat’ to each other? Or is it Shabbat Shalom? Ooh — I just thought of this! Before you drink her blood, what will you say?” Aurora said L’chaim like she was coughing up phlegm while laughing. “That’s not right. What’s the Hebrew word for ‘Un-life?’”

  Rage burned within Lydia. Growing up, her father never invested in her Jewish instruction. She, along with her father, never kept kosher and never observed the Sabbath. He never paid for her to go to Sunday School. Her sister taught her some Hebrew when their father wasn’t around. Yet, some people still bullied Miriam because of her Ashkenazi heritage. A heritage she felt little connection to. Choosing the Greek name Lydia as her rebirth name was her way to sever that connection and start anew. Aurora knew that mentioning anything related to Judaism bothered Lydia.

  “I don’t know,” Lydia growled. “What’s Mandarin for ‘shut up?’” Aurora also hated any mention of her mortal heritage. Lydia hoped her quip would silence Aurora.

  Instead, Aurora firmly grabbed Lydia’s arm, pulling her body close. They locked gazes as Aurora’s fangs bared for a moment. “Let me set you straight, sister. I am a vampire.” Her grip tightened. “That woman is dead. I emerged from the flames of her soul. So don’t you—“

  Aurora’s grip loosened as her eyes averted to Lydia’s side.

  Fuck.

  What?

  There’s a Cerza behind you.

  Cerza was slang for Rycerz. They were the enforcers, or ‘knights’ from the Kingdom of Northern Chicago. Aurora telepathically projected what she saw; across Boughton Road, a white male vampire, seemingly in his early 20s, stood on the roof of Portillo’s. He was looking in their direction. The faint purple paint splotches on his black jacket marked him as a Cerza.

  Lydia replied: One knife. Not blending with the shadows.

  Newbie.

  Agreed. Walk away. I’ll distract him. You get behind him.

  Cool. This is the Lydia I like.

  Aurora stepped back, pretending to be shocked. “You bitch!”

  Lydia backed away and raised her hands. “Better a bitch than a blood ember!”

  Blood ember?

  He’ll think you’re too weak to worry about.

  Aurora grinned. He’ll be in for a surprise.

  Aurora flipped Lydia off and walked away. Lydia slapped the nearest car; the alarm ripped throughout Barber’s Corner. “Oh, shut up!” Lydia bellowed, pretending to be angry. Lydia approached her motorcycle, hoping the Cerza’s focus was on her. When she reached her motorcycle, she positioned herself and blocked the view of the side cases. Putting on her jacket, she grasped the combat knife from her side case and placed it in her interior pocket, hoping the Cerza couldn’t see it.

  Wooden stakes were worthless against vampires. Matthew proved this once by stabbing himself with one. It shattered as soon as it struck his sternum. The right combat knife, he said, could dust a vampire’s limbs. Lydia hoped it wouldn’t come to that. It took several days for most vampires to heal a severed limb; sometimes it was kinder to end a fight with a bone breaking punch.

  Aurora projected her point of view as she landed on the roof. The surprised Cerza turned and froze. Aurora hissed at him. He bared his fangs and charged.

  Your turn, sis.

  Lydia closed the case, then stepped away from the streetlamps lighting the parking lot. Blending into the shadows, she rendered herself invisible to mortals and the younger generation of vampires. When she was Miriam, Matthew had showed this to her; she recollected her shock as darkness enveloped her body. Now she could do that and see through the darkness.

  Lydia jumped, generating a telekinetic “push” to propel her into the night sky. She couldn’t fly like Matthew or the older vampires, but she could leap at least a quarter of a mile high, twisting midair like a gymnast.

  Below her, the Cerza scout displayed his inexperience by throwing wild punches and off-balance kicks. Aurora feigned fear as she toyed with him. Her quick and powerful strikes hinting at her experience. Lydia landed on the scout, knocking him down as she tugged him into a restraint. He struggled yet couldn’t break free. Lydia pulled the scout to his feet as he continued writhing. Aurora squeezed his throat.

  “Be quiet,” ordered Aurora, “Unless you want me to dust your eyes. Got it?” The scout nodded and Aurora grinned. “Better.”

  Her grip loosened.

  “You can’t do—“

  Aurora silenced him by squeezing harder. “I said quiet. Do you want to end up in a DPA cell? They aren’t as friendly as the Orange Squad.”

  The scout’s eyes widened. The Orange Squad was the nickname of the mortal group that policed Chicago’s supernatural residents. Not even Matthew knew if they were a covert division of the Chicago Police Department, or a group of well-connected contractors. Regardless of their origin, no one disputed their ruthlessness.

  Aurora smirked. “Now. Let’s try this again.” She released her grip but, a moment later, smacked the scout across his face. “Use your voice so my blood sister can hear you.”

  “How dare you.” He said in a stage whisper. The fear in his eyes betrayed his bravado act. Definitely a recruit, Lydia thought.

  “Good.” Aurora whispered back. “Don’t talk any louder than that.”

  “Don’t you know who I am?” The Cerza replied with anger and contempt in his voice. “I’m a Rycerz of the Chicago Kingdom.”

  Aurora laughed. “Someone’s claimed all of Chicago.”

  Lydia snorted.

  “You might want to tell that to the Lincoln Dominion, the Chiraq Union, the Western Kingdom, and —“ Aurora looked at Lydia. ”—how many other Chicago territories?”

  “Ten.” Lydia replied.

  “Your dude hosts a human role-playing game every week. I can’t see him conquering Chicago. Even with his lucky dice, he’d struggle to capture an office with a view.” Aurora smirked. “They look so cute when they pretend to be humans.”

  The scout struggled and bared his fangs. “You’ll answer for that.”

  “Please,” pleaded Lydia. “Just tell us why you’re here and who came with you. Then you can go home.”

  “A Rycerz does not answer questions from bandits,” he replied. He sounded indignant, but Lydia also sensed fear in his voice.

  “Seriously?” Lydia snapped.

  Aurora shook her head. “You must really love your dude if—“

  “I serve the Dux,” he said with a now shaky voice. “You will pay for mocking the rightful ruler of Chicago.” Lydia wondered if he was threatening them or trying to reassure himself.

  Aurora giggled. “That wasn’t mockery. This is.” Aurora pretended to hold a scepter and pointed her nose at the sky. She began performing an exaggerated high step march. Using her worst imitation of a male voice, she said, “I am the High Dude of Chicago. The great pretender. Heir of hair.” Aurora stopped pretending and walked up to him. She leaned in, almost touching his forehead. “That, Mr. Paladin, is mockery.”

  The scout attempted to break Lydia’s grasp.

  “Stop it,” Lydia hissed. “Just tell us why you’re here.”

  “And who are you with?” Aurora asked. “Enforcers always travel outside of Chicago in a posse.”

  The scout stopped struggling but looked away from the pair.

  “I think we might have to loosen his tongue,” said Aurora.

  Lydia whispered in the scout’s ear, “It’s not worth it. Just talk.”

  The scout chuckled. “You’re playing good cop, bad cop,” he replied in a more confident tone.

  “Not really,” Aurora replied. “She’s the good cop.” Aurora kicked his groin, the blow lifting him several inches as the crack of his hips resounded. Lydia winced as the scout collapsed; she tried to lift him. Aurora grabbed his throat and pulled him up. Aurora said, “I’m the kind of bad cop.” The scout struggled to stand. “That really hurt. Right?” Aurora sneered, pressing her fingernails into his skin. “Right?” The scout struggled to nod as he looked at Aurora in agony. Aurora grinned. “That’s nothing compared to what our CSO can do. He knows all the spots. You won’t die, but you’ll wish you were dead. Just ask my blood sister. She used to love his work.”

  “Yes,” Lydia replied, ashamed of the times she used to cheer him on as he made the toughest vampires beg for mercy. When he worked over mortal vampire hunters, Aurora and she would play torture bingo.

  Aurora continued. “Now, you have a choice. Answer our questions or meet our CSO.”

  Aurora released his throat. He groaned in agony as he struggled to stand. The scout closed his eyes and took short, labored breaths. Aurora’s face beamed with joy as she watched. Lydia heard his bones slowly healing.

  “Fine,” he moaned. The scout took a few more labored breaths. “We’re investigating the weredeer intrusion.”

  Aurora’s eyes sparkled with pride. “How many is we?”

  “Five.”

  “Including you?”

  “Yes.”

  Aurora’s eyes widened as she glanced at Lydia. Lydia thought sending five Cerzas into Bolingbrook was a brazen move by the Dux. The court knew how to reach Matthew to request permission. She wondered if they were using the weredeer army’s arrival as pretext to seize Bolingbrook.

  “Finally,” Aurora excitedly replied. “We’re getting somewhere. What have you learned?”

  “The one we captured said he was following the plan. That’s all we got before we released him. The Red Raiders told us the weredeer are waiting for orders.”

  “You spoke to the Reds?” Aurora asked.

  “The ones we spared talked.” He smiled pridefully at Aurora. His hips healed enough for him to stand on his own.

  The Reds were the other gang guarding Bolingbrook. Lydia felt they were the most responsible of the two gangs.

  “That sucks,” Aurora casually replied. “They were fun, and you broke them.”

  The scout straightened his posture and cast an angry gaze at Aurora. “They defied the rightful Dux of Chicago.”

  Lydia tightened her hold in response to his callous attitude. “Bolingbrook isn’t part of your kingdom. You had no right to do that.” She bared her fangs and pulled his head by the hair. “You want to join them?”

  Easy, sister. Aurora shot a warning glare at Lydia. Lydia nodded. She retracted her fangs and released his head.

  “So,” Aurora asked. “Where are your friends?”

  The scout tried to stick his chest out. “We are the—“

  Aurora kicked his knee, hyper-extending it. The scout screamed as he dropped to his good knee. Aurora reached for this throat, but he closed his mouth and struggled to contain his anguished cries. Lydia forced him to lie on his stomach, then put her weight on his back. Pinned to the floor, the scout looked up at Aurora.

  “Where are they?” asked Aurora.

  He took a few shallow breaths before he could speak. “They’re waiting for the editor.”

  “Editor?” asked Lydia, but she knew there was only one editor to ask regarding paranormal activity in Bolingbrook.

  “The Babbler’s.”

  Lydia froze. Her heart pounded inside her chest.

  Aurora chuckled. “You’re in Bolingbrook. Buy a copy.”

  “She might know more than they’ve printed.”

  Lydia shook her head, “No, she knows less than you do. Leave her alone.”

  “Too late.”

  Lydia tried to filter out the traffic sounds from Boughton Road and Route 53. When she finally heard a car engine starting, she looked back towards Barber’s Corner. Lydia spotted Sara in her white sedan as she drove from the parking lot; a male Cerza on a motorcycle followed, as did a black car.

  “Call them off,” snapped Lydia.

  The scout shook his head. “I don’t have the authority.”

  “Ask.”

  “Why?” he replied with a smirk.

  “Wrong answer.” Lydia wrenched both his arms back. Aurora gasped as Lydia dislocated the scout’s shoulders. He let out an unrestrained scream as his shoulder muscles spasmed. Lydia slammed his head into the floor twice. Aurora’s eyes widened.

  “Lydia?” she asked with alarm in her voice.

  The scout gasped for air, which Lydia believed was his instinctive response to the extreme pain.

  Lydia looked up at Aurora. After he heals, get him a ride home.

  Lydia jumped to her feet. The scout didn’t move; His face seemed frozen with a shocked expression.

  What are you doing, Lydia?

  Protecting Sara.

  They’ll kill you!

  They’ll try.

  Sara turned, driving south along Bolingbrook Drive as the Cerza followed. Lydia propelled herself towards the sky, blending with the darkness as she sensed a whisper from Aurora.

  She’s not worth it!

  Lydia leaped over Boughton Road, landed past the Taco Bell on Bolingbrook Drive, and sprinted south. Vampires could run up to 70 miles per hour. Much faster than the cars beside her.

  Lydia remembered the first time she saw Sara, catching her eye from the moment she stepped out of her cubicle. She didn’t manage her colleagues through intimidation — no; she was kind, but firm when she needed to be. Lydia specifically remembered hearing Sara talking to Wendy, the graphic designer and unofficial paranormal expert, about a freelance writer. Perhaps the same one Sara mentioned in the bar; Sara believed something had happened to him, and she wasn’t giving up until she found out what. Sara’s caring nature was one reason Lydia found attractive. Lydia started feeling more confident about her feelings for Sara. It wasn’t a rebound or infatuation. Sara was right for her, and better for her than Steve could have ever been.

  Lydia slowed as she approached the pursuing Cerza. Traffic backed up at the stoplight; Lydia couldn’t risk confronting them there. A public brawl wasn’t the best way to introduce vampires to humanity.

  Matthew had been teaching her a shadow blending technique that worked in lighted areas. The patterns disturbed humans so they would subconsciously look away. This would be her first unsupervised attempt. It was a risk, but then she pictured the scout terrorizing Sara; the risk was worth it.

  Lydia hopped on top of a box truck and lied prone, sliding across the roof. No one could see her. Vampires were immune to this kind of shadow blending, so she had to act carefully.

  On the other side was the Cerza’s car and motorcycle driver; two white males were in the car, both with Cerza markings on their jackets. The passenger sat in the backseat while she discerned the zip ties from her jacket pocket.

  The light changed to green. Lydia clinched the edge of the roof as the truck moved forward, then spotted the motorcycle driver. Lydia could tell he was skilled at following cars without being noticed. She’d done it herself in the past.

  Lydia scanned the area, and even the night sky. She didn’t see the fifth Cerza. Where was he?

  Lydia shuddered at the thought of the fifth one waiting at Sara’s place. No, they wouldn’t be following her, she thought. They’d be waiting there for her.

  Instead, Lydia suspected the motorcycle guy was going to get ahead of Sara, forcing her to stop. The car would park behind her while they tugged her from the car and into theirs. A classic block and grab, Lydia thought.

  In the car, the passenger kept looking out the window onto ground level. Lydia guessed the scout had warned them, but the passenger didn’t know how to spot vampire tails.

  Amateurs, thought Lydia.

  Sara turned left onto Briarcliff Road, the motorcycle and car continuing to follow. Lydia leaped off the truck and over a strip mall. She landed on the roof of an apartment and pursued the Cerzas.

  Lydia imagined the Cerzas as one giant snake threatening Sara. How, she wondered, should she attack the snake? Cut off the head or slash the body?

  Lydia hopped from rooftop to rooftop as she tailed them. The Cerzas seemed hyper focused on Sara as the traffic thinned; Sara and the Cerzas drove further down Briarcliff. When the last bystander flashed their turn signal, the motorcycle closed in on Sara. The bystander turned on to Annerino Drive, and the Cerza’s car secured the distance.

  Slash the body, thought Lydia. They need a car to move Sara. No car. No kidnaping.

  Lydia leaped off a rooftop and propelled herself at the Cerza’s car. She slammed her shoulder into the driver’s side door, leaving a sizable dent. Before the driver could recover, the car jumped the curb. It crashed into a tree at the top of the embankment as Lydia rolled to her feet and charged at the car. The front of the car resembled a crushed can. Lydia’s impact left a crater-like dent in the driver’s side door. The driver was healing his head wound while the passenger struggled with the seat belt. Lydia kicked the car, sending it tumbling down the embankment towards the dark field below.

  The Cerza on the motorcycle performed a fast slide U-turn and stopped. Sara glanced at her rearview mirror before accelerating away from the scene. The motorcycle driver, his face concealed by his helmet and shaded visor, faced Lydia. The faint pink blotches on his jacket collar marked him as a low-level commander within the Cerza. Relieved that he wasn’t following Sara, Lydia glared back at him. He whispered to her.

  You’re gonna pay for that.

  Let’s find out, Sarge.

  He revved the engines and charged; Lydia heard someone forcing a car door open. She leaped backwards into the night sky.

 

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