He jogged through the alleys until he was back at the entrance to his row house. He would sleep through the day, as he always did, then return to Kitty’s shop and ensure she was still well.
But as he opened the door, the foyer that should have been empty was instead occupied by his three boisterous nest sisters.
“There you are!” Lucina cried. She gathered the deeply ruffled, light-blue skirt of her gown and raced toward him, as if she were still a fledgling, not a century-old vampire. When she reached him, and he did not lean over and hoist her into his arms as he’d done when she’d been younger, she puffed her cheeks and furrowed her brow. He knew better than to acquiesce. Her childish nature combined with her short stature—the top of her blonde, curly head was at the level of his stomach—was the reason she was such a vicious hunter.
Her prey never saw her coming.
“Comport yourself, sister,” Seraphina said, appearing so silently behind Lucina that even Cordon jumped. Seraphina put a black-gloved hand on Lucina’s shoulder. “We would not want to scare our brother away.” Then she met his gaze, and a vivid image appeared in his mind of Lucina sitting on his marble floor with her arms and legs crossed, like a child having a tantrum.
He muffled a snort at Seraphina’s telepathic projection. As the eldest sister, Seraphina was quite accustomed to managing Lucina’s outbursts, and her age meant she had developed talents he didn’t possess. If their eldest brother, Marcus, was theirleader, then Seraphina was the second-in-command. Maturity practically radiated off of her, from the stripe of white running through her slate-black hair at her temple to the severe bodice of her black dress, buttoned all the way to her neck.
“None of you know how to have fun,” Lucina said. She spun around and bounded toward their middle sister, Helena, who wore a copper suit and trousers and thus easily clasped Lucina about the waist with hands so large, they made Lucina seem like a doll. Then Helena tossed her sister in the air.
Lucina squealed before landing in Helena’s outstretched arms. Although severe Seraphina was immune to Lucina’s charms, Helena was most assuredly not. Before their maker had vanished, she had often expressed her disappointment that Lucina had not proven terribly useful to the nest.
Seraphina faced Cordon. “Dr. Rysel informed me of your condition.” Her features tightened. “Given that we were all turned within a few years of each other, I believe we should analyze this problem as a group.”
“What ‘problem’?” Cordon asked, even though he knew exactly what she was talking about. He naively hoped that, confronted with nonchalance, she would drop the subject. He had no particular desire to discuss his failures with his sisters.
“Mate atrophy,” Seraphina said. “As you know, none of us have been successful. Marcus and I are concerned.”
Lucina slid off Helena’s shoulder and floated to the ground. “We need your help, Cordie.”
Helena crossed her arms. “Marguerite gave you her journal before she left.”
With three determined sisters standing before him, Cordon surrendered. “What do you want to know?”
Lucina raised her hand. “Well, I—”
Seraphina slashed her hand through the air. “Not here.”
Lucina groaned. Helena chuckled. Cordon sighed.
“The basement,” Seraphina said. “We must ensure we are not overheard.” When no one responded, she shifted on her feet. “It is what Marcus would want.”
Fifteen minutes later, Cordon sat cross-legged on the damp earth, surrounded by his sisters, and described his failed attempts to locate his fated mate. If revealing intimate details about his romantic pursuits was not awkward enough, when he glossed over a particular detail regarding a French washerwoman he had briefly courted, Seraphina gently cleared her throat.
He rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. “Must you know everything?”
“No detail is too small,” Seraphina said. “If we are to find our fated mates, we must learn where you have failed so we can adjust our approaches accordingly.”
Lucina sneezed, although it sounded suspiciously like laughter.
Helena removed a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to Lucina.
“Well, as I was saying…” Cordon ran his fingers through the soft dirt. “I followed the suggestions Marguerite wrote in her journal, including drinking only the blood of animals.”
Seraphina shuddered.
Her reaction was appropriate. Even the freshest non-human blood was, at best, unpleasant.
“But every time I thought I found my betrothed and drank their blood…” He shrugged. “Nothing.”
Lucina tapped her feet on the ground. “Well, what’s supposed to happen?”
“The mating bond,” Cordon said. “A telepathic link, similar to what Seraphina can do, but much stronger.”
Helena snorted. “And we’re supposed to starve ourselves until that happens?”
