I woke up slowly, fighting my way through layers of cotton-thick darkness that didn't want to let me go. My body felt so wrong. Everything felt heavy, from my shoulders to my arms down to my own damn fingers. And everything felt so cold…like I was wearing a suit made of metal and ice.

  Dead. I think I’d been dead…or dying at least. I remembered the vampire had fed on me and drained me, and I felt myself floating away…and then my eyes snapped open, and the world slowly came into focus.

  I was in a bed. I remembered wondering if the afterlife started out like waking up from a dream? I thought it would feel different on the other side. Perhaps that would explain the bone deep chill I felt. Then I forced my eyes to try and focus, and that’s when I realized: I was in an actual bed with clean sheets and soft pillows, in a room I vaguely recognized as Garrick and my room at the Augustine Hotel.

  I turned my head to the left, and there, standing in the corner, watching me with dark, unreadable eyes, was Lord Konstantin Vasile.

  Panic hit like a physical blow. My heart pounded into overdrive. I tried to sit up, tried to scramble away, but my body refused to cooperate. My limbs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds each. My neck—oh god, my neck itched and burned where the fangs had—

  "Mac, stop!" Garrick's voice, urgent and familiar. "You're safe. It's okay."

  I turned my head to the right—even that small movement took effort as the skin on the left side of my neck pulled—and saw Garrick sitting in a chair beside the bed. He looked exhausted, his clothes rumpled, dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept. But he was alive. Conscious. Not bleeding on cobblestones with his skull cracked open.

  "Konstantin," I managed to croak, my throat raw and dry. "The vampire said—Samuel can’t protect you—"

  "I know what he said." Konstantin's voice was as cold and precise as I remembered from breaking into his apartment. He moved closer to the bed with that vampire grace, each step perfectly controlled. "He was attempting to frame me for his crimes. It didn't work."

  "Mac." Garrick leaned forward, his hand on my shoulder—a grounding touch that helped anchor me to reality. "Konstantin isn't the culprit. He's been hunting the masked vampire just like we have. He's the one who saved your life."

  My brain struggled to process that. Konstantin. The vampire we'd been investigating. The one whose home we'd broken into, whose books on ghost magic we'd photographed as evidence.

  "I don't understand," I said.

  Konstantin pulled a chair from against the wall and sat, his movements economical and precise. Everything about him spoke to control, with decades, if not centuries of discipline and restraint. "Then I will explain. I have been investigating the ghost abductions independently for the past six weeks. I suspected—correctly, as it turns out—that the culprit is someone close to Prince Samuel. Someone he might feel compelled to protect if their crimes were exposed."

  "Why would you suspect that?" My voice was getting stronger, though my body still felt like it was weighed down by rocks.

  "Because vampire politics is built on loyalty and leverage. Samuel is an Elder—powerful enough that he should have absolute control over his territory. If ghost abductions are happening under his rule, either he's allowing them, or someone close enough to him feels protected from consequences." Konstantin's expression remained neutral, professional. "I've been gathering evidence, watching for opportunities to catch the culprit in the act. Last night, I finally had a lead. A ghost near his anchor, vulnerable, the perfect target."

  "We set that trap," I said, understanding dawning. "We were all watching Oleksii."

  "Yes. And then you two interfered, revealed yourselves, and allowed the masked vampire to escape." There was frustration in his voice now, carefully controlled but present. "You cost me six weeks of investigation work."

  "We didn't know," Garrick said quietly. "We thought you were the culprit. The evidence—"

  "The grimoires in my study. Yes, I'm aware you broke into my home." Konstantin's lips thinned. "Those books are part of my investigation. Evidence I've been collecting. Research into the methods being used." Then he leaned forward slightly. "Tell me, Mr. Sullivan: if I were truly guilty, why would I have been watching that alley instead of acting? Why would I have been hiding in the shadows rather than approaching the ghost myself?"

  He had a point. Not to mention something else immediately came to my mind.

  "The mask," I said. "The disguised voice. If you were the culprit and we'd seen you, we would have described you to Samuel. He would have known immediately."

  "Precisely. The mask tells us that the vampire is someone Samuel would recognize. Someone whose identity must be protected at all costs." Konstantin stood, moving to the window. "Which is why I saved your life, Mr. Sullivan. Not out of charity. I want to be very clear about that. But to demonstrate my innocence…and to propose an alliance."

  I tried to sit up again. This time my body cooperated slightly better, though Garrick had to help prop pillows behind me. The room spun for a moment before settling.

  "Thank you," I said to Konstantin. "For saving me."

  He waved it off with a gesture that was pure aristocratic dismissal. "As I said—not charity. Self-interest. I need Prince Samuel to trust my investigation, and having you vouch for my actions will help achieve that goal."

  "You're a real warm guy, you know that?" I muttered.

  The corner of Konstantin's mouth might have twitched. Might have. "I've been told."

  Garrick cleared his throat. "Mac, there's something else you need to know. About the feeding. Do you remember what happened?"

  The question brought it all rushing back. The euphoria. The warmth spreading through my veins like liquid pleasure. The way my body had surrendered completely, unable and unwilling to fight. The comparison to Michael's addiction that had made horrifying sense in the moment.

  "I remember," I said quietly. "All of it."

  Something shifted in Garrick's expression. Concern, maybe. Or guilt. "How much do you remember feeling?"

  "Everything. The pain at first, then..." I swallowed. "Then it felt better than anything I've ever experienced. Like every good sensation I've ever had compressed into a few seconds and multiplied by a thousand. I understood why people don't fight back. Why they let vampires drain them dry. Because fighting that feeling is..." I trailed off, not sure how to articulate it.

  "Impossible," Konstantin finished. "For most mortals, yes. The euphoria produced by vampire feeding is one of our most effective tools. It ensures compliance, prevents struggle, and in many cases, creates willing victims who return again and again."

  The clinical way he said it made my stomach turn. "You make it sound like a drug."

  "It is a drug. A natural one, produced by our saliva during feeding. It's how we've survived for millennia without being hunted to extinction." Konstantin's gaze fixed on me, and for the first time, I saw something almost like sympathy in his dark eyes. "And I'm afraid there are side effects you need to know about."

  My heart sank. "What kind of side effects?"

  "First…you may experience cravings. An urge to be fed upon again. It varies by individual, but most mortals who survive a vampire feeding report intrusive thoughts, phantom sensations of pleasure, a desire to seek out the vampire who bit them." He paused. "It fades with time, usually, but it's... difficult."

  I thought about Michael again. About watching him fight his addiction to painkillers, about the way he'd describe the cravings as physical pain, like his body was screaming for something it had learned to need. Was I going to experience something like that? Was I already experiencing it, given the fleeting phantom euphoria I'd felt when I first woke up?

  "Great," I said. "What else? You said ‘first’ so I’m assuming there’s more."

  Konstantin and Garrick exchanged a look.

  "When a vampire feeds on someone," Konstantin said carefully, "a bond is created. Nothing necessarily mystical or magical…more a biological connection. The vampire can sense their victim's location if they're close enough. Within a few hundred meters, typically. And in some cases..."

  "What?" I was getting uncomfortable and frustrated watching such a stone-cold vampire beat around the bush. How bad was this going to be?!

  "In some cases, if the bond is strong enough and the proximity is close enough, the vampire can project thoughts into their victim's mind. Communicate telepathically. It's rare and under most circumstances usually requires multiple feedings, but given how deeply you were drained, the connection may be stronger than usual."

  I felt violated. That was the only word for it. This vampire, whoever they were, had not just fed on me. They'd created a permanent connection. A way to find me, to reach me, to potentially invade my thoughts. Maybe it was on purpose, or maybe they just didn’t have enough time to finish me off.

  "How do I break it?" I demanded.

  "You don't," Konstantin said bluntly. "The bond persists until one of you dies. Usually the mortal, given our respective lifespans. In your case..." He glanced at Garrick. "Given that you're partnered with a cosmic hero, you may survive long enough for it to become inconvenient."

  "There has to be a way."

  "There is one." Konstantin's expression hardened. "If the vampire is killed with sufficient proof of their crimes, which based on the crimes committed already will result in formal execution by vampire law, all bonds they've created are severed permanently. The victims are freed."

  "Then we catch this bastard and make sure that happens," I said through gritted teeth.

  "My thoughts exactly." Konstantin moved toward the door. "I suggest you rest, Mr. Sullivan. You've lost more than half your blood volume. Even with magical restoration that your hero friend provided, your body needs time to recover. In the meantime, I'll continue my investigation. Independently, for now—Samuel doesn't know I'm involved, yet, and I'd like to keep it that way."

  "Wait," I said. "When we report to Samuel, what do we tell him? About you?"

  Konstantin considered this. "Tell him a vampire intervened. That you didn't see who. That whoever it was drove off the masked vampire before he could finish feeding. That should suffice without revealing my involvement." He opened the door, paused. "And Mr. Sullivan? Don't interfere with my investigation again. Next time I may not be present to save you."

  Then he was gone, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

  Garrick and I sat in silence for a long moment.

  "He's kind of an asshole," I said finally.

  "Yeah." Garrick ran a hand through his hair. "But he's not wrong. About any of it. And Mac... I'm sorry. I should have protected you better. Should have seen the gun, should have moved faster, should have—"

  "You took a bullet for me, man," I interrupted. "Literally threw yourself in front of a bullet to save my life. How is that not protecting me?"

  "I got knocked out. Left you vulnerable. Let that vampire feed on you until you were seconds from death. Granted, my getting knocked out allowed Konstantin to be free of my holding spell," His voice cracked slightly. "But you're my partner, Mac. My responsibility. And I failed you."

  "You didn't fail me. You saved me. Konstantin and you got me somewhere safe, you did some kind of magic or something to restore my blood—"

  "It was actually a potion I mixed over in the mini bar. Which tastes like concentrated iron and copper, by the way. You should be grateful you were unconscious when I poured it down your throat." He tried for humor, but it fell flat. "Mac, this is the third time you've nearly died in less than a week. The ghostly embrace, the woman vampire at Samuel's estate who almost tricked you into voiding guest rights, and now this. If you want out of this? I’d understand completely."

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  I stared at him. "What are you saying?"

  "I'm saying I can take you home. Back to Salem, back to The Crossroads. Back to a life where the worst thing that happens is a drunk werewolf gets rowdy on a Tuesday night." He met my eyes, and the guilt there was profound. "This is too dangerous, Mac. I thought I could protect you, but I can't. Not from everything. Not from creatures who move faster than bullets or drain you dry before I can reach you."

  Part of me (a surprisingly big part) wanted to say yes. Wanted to go home, back to familiar territory, back to serving drinks and mediating disputes that didn't involve near-death experiences. I'd signed up for three months. A trial period. And it had been less than a week and I'd already been attacked by ghosts and vampires and had a permanent psychic bond created against my will.

  But the other part of me thought about Dorota. About Petr saying she was the kindest of them. About Oleksii volunteering to be bait despite the risk of permanent death. About Polina thanking me for making her remember what duck tasted like after four hundred years. And really, the thought of Dorota trapped continually tapped into a primal fear from my childhood. Being stuck in a terrible situation hoping somebody…ANYBODY…would come to your rescue and bring you back to safe, back to normal. I could almost feel Dorota’s pleas and hope. I couldn’t leave anyone in that situation…not after being in a similar spot myself.

  "I want to finish this," I said. "I gave you and Samuel my word that I'd see this investigation through. And I..." I paused, trying to articulate something I was only just realizing. "I don't want to go back to Salem knowing I ran because things got hard. And left an innocent person…ghost….whatever, to die trapped and helpless. That's not who I want to be."

  "Even if it kills you?"

  "Well, no, I’d prefer we start minimizing that chance as best we can. I need some way to protect myself. Some defense that doesn't rely on you being close enough to save me every time." I looked at him seriously. "Can you do that? Give me something that'll keep me alive long enough for you to reach me?"

  Garrick was quiet for a long moment, thinking. Then his expression shifted into something more hopeful. "I might have an idea. Something I learned from a friend—a ward-maker in Tibet. It's complicated, requires some special materials, and a bit of time, but..." He nodded, more to himself than to me. "Yeah. Give me a couple a couple hours to work on it."

  "When?"

  "After we report to Samuel. I need to be present for that conversation. But once we're back here? I'll get started immediately."

  "What is it?" I asked. "What kind of protection?"

  Garrick grinned—his first genuine smile since I'd woken up. "What do the kids say nowadays? Let me cook."

  ---

  We waited two more hours before heading to Samuel's estate. I needed the time to regain enough strength to walk without wobbling, and Garrick wanted to make sure I wouldn't pass out during our meeting. By the time we left the Augustine, I felt almost human again. Almost.

  My neck still itched where the bite had healed. Garrick said vampire saliva contained clotting agents that sealed wounds almost instantly, preventing their victims from bleeding out before they could be drained properly. My limbs still felt heavy, like I was moving through water. And twice during our walk through Prague's streets, I experienced that brief euphoria just a flash of it, gone before I could fully process the sensation, but enough to remind me that the bond existed. That somewhere in this city, a vampire could sense my presence.

  The woman vampire was waiting in the alley again. This time I saw her before she could startle me, pressed into her slice of shadow like she'd grown there.

  "Back again," she said, but there was less amusement in her voice than usual. Her eyes lingered on my neck, on the barely-visible marks where fangs had pierced skin. "I heard what happened. Regrettable."

  "Yeah, well. Hazards of the job." I tried to sound casual, but my voice came out tight.

  She opened the hidden door without comment, and we descended into Samuel's underground domain.

  The lounge was busier than last time. There were maybe a dozen vampires scattered among the cushions and chairs, smoking their opium pipes or drinking their vintage blood. They all turned to watch as we passed, and I felt their attention like weight. Like they could smell what had happened to me. Like they knew I'd been marked by one of their own.

  Dmitry met us outside Samuel's office. His amber eyes assessed me with that same predatory focus, but something in his expression had shifted. "The Prince is waiting," was all he said.

  Samuel stood at his window when we entered, backlit by whatever light source existed beyond that glass. He didn't turn immediately, just stood there in perfect stillness and that absolute lack of movement that he usually did.

  "Mac Sullivan," he said finally, turning to face us. "You look terrible."

  "I feel terrible, so at least there's consistency."

  Something that might have been amusement flickered across Samuel's face. "Sit. Both of you. Before this one falls over."

  I sank into the chair in front of his desk with more relief than I wanted to admit. Garrick remained standing, positioning himself slightly between me and Samuel, protective even now.

  "Tell me what happened," Samuel said, settling behind his desk with that same economical grace. "Everything."

  So we did. Garrick took the lead, explaining how we'd set up the trap with Oleksii, how we'd watched from concealment, how the masked vampire had appeared.

  "Lord Konstantin was there as well," Garrick continued carefully. "Watching from across the alley. When the masked vampire appeared, Konstantin revealed himself and accused the vampire of being responsible for the abductions. He tried to make it seem like Konstantin was the culprit, that Konstantin's master—meaning you—couldn't protect him."

  Samuel's expression didn't change, but something in the air shifted. "He indicated Lord Konstantin."

  "Yes. We intervened, called for both of them to stand down. I used a binding spell on Konstantin to immobilize him while we dealt with the masked vampire." Garrick's voice tightened. "That's when he pulled a gun and shot at Mac. I took the bullet, got knocked unconscious when my head hit the cobblestones. And then..."

  He trailed off. I picked up the thread.

  "Then he fed on me. Would have drained me completely if someone hadn't interrupted." I met Samuel's eyes. "Another vampire showed up. Shouted something. The masked vampire fled, and whoever intervened helped get me somewhere safe. I didn't see who it was. I was pretty far gone by that point."

  "A vampire saved you." Samuel's fingers steepled in front of him. "Interesting. Not the action I would expect from one of my people, given the... complications it creates."

  "What complications?" Garrick asked.

  "Interfering with another vampire's feeding is considered a grave insult. A challenge to their authority. Whoever saved Mr. Sullivan has now made an enemy of the masked vampire." Samuel's gaze fixed on me. "And you, Mr. Sullivan, now carry a bond with your attacker. They can sense you. Find you. Perhaps even communicate with you if they choose."

  "I know. Konstantin—" I caught myself, but too late.

  "Ah." Samuel's expression sharpened. "So Lord Konstantin was your rescuer. That explains his absence from the estate today. He's avoiding me until he can determine how much I know about his involvement."

  Damn it. I'd just blown Konstantin's cover.

  But Samuel simply nodded, as if confirming something he'd already suspected. "Konstantin has been conducting his own investigation for some time. I've allowed it because his methods are... thorough. And because I suspected he would eventually flush out the culprit. It seems you three have now joined forces."

  "You knew?" Garrick demanded. "You knew Konstantin was investigating and you didn't tell us?"

  "Would it have changed your approach? Made you trust him rather than suspect him?" Samuel's tone was mild but pointed. "No. You needed to reach your own conclusions. As, it seems…you have."

  I felt manipulated. Used. Like we were pieces on a chess board that Samuel had been moving according to some strategy only he understood.

  "The masked vampire," I said, steering the conversation back to safer ground. "The fact that they wore a disguise, that they disguised their voice. You know that tells us something."

  "It tells us they're someone I would recognize," Samuel agreed. "Someone close enough to me that exposure would be... problematic."

  "How problematic?" Garrick pressed. "If we catch this vampire, if we prove they're guilty, will you allow justice to be carried out? Or will loyalty prevent you from acting?"

  The question hung in the air like a blade. This was the heart of it. Whether Samuel would protect his people over pursuing justice. Whether his political calculations would outweigh the lives of the ghosts being drained and murdered.

  Samuel stood, moved to the map of Prague on his wall. He traced a finger along one of the marked locations, his expression distant.

  "I have ruled this territory for three hundred years," he said quietly. "I have built alliances, crushed enemies, survived political purges that would have destroyed lesser Elders. I have done... questionable things in service of maintaining my power." He turned back to face us. "But I am not a monster. Not entirely. If one of my people is hunting ghosts, creating weapons from their trapped souls, risking war with Princess Katrina and her council—" His voice hardened. "—then they will face justice. Regardless of who they are."

  "Even if it's someone you care about?" I asked.

  "Elders don't have the luxury of caring, Mr. Sullivan. We can't afford attachments that could be exploited or used against us. Every connection is a weakness, every relationship a potential vulnerability." He returned to his desk. "But yes. Even if it were someone I... valued. Justice would be served."

  Garrick and I exchanged glances. I couldn't tell if Samuel was telling the truth or saying what he thought we needed to hear.

  "Then we have a problem," Garrick said. "The masked vampire will have gone to ground after last night. They won't attempt another abduction soon. It’s way too risky after nearly being caught. We need something to draw them out. Force them to expose themselves."

  "I agree." Samuel sat, his fingers steepled again in that characteristic pose. "Which is why I've been considering hosting an event. A formal gathering of my court—all my subordinates, advisors, and trusted associates. Mandatory attendance. A demonstration of power and unity. Anyone who doesn’t show is an immediate suspect…but I doubt they’d be that stupid considering how clever they’ve been so far."

  "It is a perfect opportunity to observe everyone," I said, understanding. "To see who acts suspicious, who's nervous, who might be our culprit."

  "Precisely. And it provides natural cover for you and Garrick to be present. You're investigating the case, so it’s reasonable that I may have granted you an invite." Samuel's gaze fixed on me, and something in his expression became... amused? "Though, that may not be reason enough for some of my more…old fashioned subordinates who value…tradition. We'll need a convincing reason for your presence. I can't simply announce that I'm allowing outsiders to observe my court."

  "What did you have in mind?" I asked warily.

  "I remember you being quite confident in your culinary abilities, Mr. Sullivan. When we first met, you claimed you could hold your own against my Michelin star chef."

  Oh no.

  "I have, as it happens, been planning entertainment for this event. A demonstration of skill and excellence." Samuel's smile was pure predator. "A battle of the chefs. My chef, who has earned two Michelin stars, versus you—the upstart American who claims expertise. The winner earns bragging rights and a substantial prize. The loser... well. The loser loses standing in my court."

  My mouth went dry. "You want me to compete against a Michelin star chef. In front of your entire court. While we're trying to catch a vampire serial killer."

  "I believe that's what I just said, yes."

  "That's—" I struggled for words. "That's insane. I'm good, but I'm not Michelin star good. Your chef will destroy me."

  "Perhaps. Or perhaps you'll surprise us all." Samuel leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "Either way, it provides the perfect excuse for your presence. We might even draw our suspect out of hiding. And if you happen to observe something useful while preparing your dishes..." He spread his hands. "Well. That would simply be a fortunate coincidence."

  Garrick was trying not to smile. Failing, but trying.

  "When?" I asked, resigned to my fate.

  "Three days. That should give the masked vampire enough time to believe they've escaped detection, and you enough time to prepare." Samuel pulled out his phone—because apparently ancient vampire princes used smartphones—and began typing. "I'll have my assistant send you the details. Dress code, theme, ingredient restrictions. The usual. All ingredients and equipment will be provided by me. You’re free to bring your chef’s knife roll…I know you chef’s can be quite…particular about that."

  "A vampire cooking competition," I said, still not believing my ears.

  "Exactly." Samuel set his phone down and fixed me with that penetrating stare. "One more thing, Mr. Sullivan. I assume you offer catering services along with your investigative work? Because if you're going to compete in my kitchen, I want to ensure you're properly motivated."

  It took me a moment to realize he was joking. Or at least, I thought he was joking. With Samuel, it was hard to tell.

  "I'll add it to my rate card," I said dryly.

  "Excellent. Then we have an agreement. Three days, Mr. Sullivan. Prepare your best dishes. Impress my court. And perhaps—if you're very lucky and very observant—catch a killer in the process."

  He dismissed us with a wave, and we left his office in a daze.

  We didn't speak until we were back on Prague's streets, the afternoon sun warm on my face despite the chill that had settled into my bones.

  "Well," Garrick said finally. "That went better than expected."

  "Better? I just got volunteered for a cooking death match against a professional chef while trying to identify a vampire serial killer who has a psychic bond with me."

  "Exactly. It could have been worse."

  "How?"

  "Samuel could have said no to the investigation. Could have decided we were more trouble than we're worth and had us killed." Garrick squeezed my shoulder. "Instead, he's giving us access to his entire court. Everyone in one place, for one night. If our culprit is in that room…and we're pretty sure they will be…we'll have our chance to identify them."

  He was right. This was actually a good development. A chance to observe, to watch, to see who acted guilty. I just had to survive a cooking competition first.

  "Come on," Garrick said. "Let's get back to the Augustine. I have a protection ward to create, and you have a menu to plan."

  "And three days to not completely humiliate myself in front of vampire nobility. This has been a hell of a week," I sighed

  "There's that positive attitude I've come to expect from you."

  I flipped him off, and he unleashed the laugh he’d been holding since we sat with Samuel.

  Despite it all, I smiled, I couldn’t help it.

  Three days was more than enough time to prepare for a cooking competition if I put my head to it. I also figured I’d need the rest. The walk to and now from Samuel’s had completely exhausted me. Garrick noticed it, “No worries Mac, I’ll mix you up another draught that should restore your blood even more, and you’ll be almost one hundred percent by tomorrow.

  I remembered what Garrick had said about the taste. “Any chance you can knock me out first?”