I made quick work of the place, righting what I could, brushing aside splinters and glass, tossing the satchels, and filing away every detail I noticed. While working, I considered my next steps. Among them was reporting this intrusion to the Sentinel Watch. Eternity Falls didn’t have a traditional police force, but rather a peacekeeping unit—an elite group that stepped in when things became volatile.
Alistair Drake led them. A former enforcer for my family and one of the few vampires I didn’t entirely dislike. He had a talent for discretion and a nose for violence. When he’d grown tired of cleaning up St. Germain messes, he’d reinvented himself and took up the role as captain. He’d dealt with situations such as magical gambling rings, enchanted moonshine smuggled into town by one of the Wolfes, and even a blood ritual that had ended poorly.
And yet—I didn’t call him.
Because I didn’t want justice.
I wanted vengeance.
Alistair would ask questions. He’d open files, follow procedures. He’d require reports, documentation, possibly even press charges. All things that would interfere with my ability to ensure the person responsible never so much as breathed near Isadora again.
Legal action came with limits.
I didn’t want that. This wasn’t a job for a peacekeeper. This was personal. And I intended to handle it accordingly.
Temporarily satisfied, I turned and headed back downstairs to rejoin Isadora.
She sat at the bar, one elbow propped up on the counter, her hand cradling her cheek. The other toyed with a half-rotted coaster. She hadn’t poured herself a drink or anything. She just sat there, staring off into space.
The air seemed to move around her, and I wondered if she knew that all the resident ghosts had surrounded her. A show of support, perhaps? Protection? So long as they didn’t harm her, I didn’t really care about their purpose.
She didn’t look up as I crossed the room. “Find anything?” she asked, her voice devoid of her usual bite.
“Nothing you didn’t already know, I suspect,” I said.
“Yeah.”
She didn’t sound surprised. Or angry. Just…tired. I watched the way her fingers traced the coaster’s edge, over and over again, like she didn’t realize she was doing it.
“I don’t have any bloodwine,” she said after a moment. “There are a couple bottles of something behind the bar, but I’m not entirely sure if they’re drinkable. Feel free to help yourself, if you’re brave enough.”
Well, that confirmed my suspicions about her blood supplies. I made a mental note to send Elias over with a decent inventory, then crossed the floor and pulled up the stool next to her.
“You should stay somewhere else tonight,” I said.
“No.”
“That wasn’t a request.”
“It’s not your decision.”
“Isadora.”
“Lucien,” she mimicked. Then, after a long sigh, she said. “I don’t have anywhere else to stay”—she lifted a hand before I could interject—“and even if I did, I wouldn’t. I won’t let anyone frighten me off. I’m not a weak, newborn vampire. I know how to defend myself.” She stared at me for a long beat. “I don’t need protection.”
Before I could argue, she reached behind the bar and pulled out a bottle of something purple. The fact that it was unlabeled and murky did not inspire confidence.
“Is that…grape scotch?” I asked, genuinely horrified.
My gods, she hadn’t been kidding about having nothing worth drinking on hand.
She uncorked the bottle and took a whiff, then winced. “Don’t judge me.”
“I’m judging you,” I said without hesitation. “Viciously.”
She lifted it to her nose and sniffed it again. “Smells like there’s some blood in it. Not sure how good it’ll be.”
Isadora took a sip, and her nose wrinkled.
