Page 105 of Veil of Blood and Bone

Claws curve my fingers. Any entities crawling free from history may be drawn to Helene. It’s inevitable.

Balls on the pool table clack together, and one of the angels lets out a whoop of delight. The fallen are like rats with wings, but they are two of the only creatures in this place who are older than I am.

Exhaustion hits with the weight of an anvil strike.

“I’ve spoken to other vampires who pass through these doors. There aren’t many, but when they come, I make sure to mark them.” Luca gestures toward the door. “None of your bloodletters, though.”

I shift to the edge of my seat. “Go on.”

“Your own kind. People hear things.”

“As if they’re more trustworthy.”

Nothing in this world is what it seems. I’ve been around long enough to understand it. Loyalty is a matter of currency.

“And who has been talking? Where did you get wind of the gossip?” I press.

The source matters. It always does.

“Angarr,” Luca clarifies.

I straighten. “Angarr is in the area?”

And I didn’t feel it? Unless something or someone didn’t want me to recognize the movements of my firstborn. Angarr was one of my Visigoths and among the first of my order to be condemned to darkness with me.

Odin made it so.

The AllFather and his heavy hand, twisting me into the first immortal vampire, worse than the leader of the cultlike sect I belonged to. An ancient brotherhood, to be sure, but nothing compared to permanent immortality.

I can turn others, but never the one person who matters.

My venom heals mortal wounds. For anyone but her.

And while my children, the other vampires, can die, I remain. No fire, no stake, no sunlight harm me. I am a true immortal.

Only her blood calls to me. The movements of every vampire who came after me has faded. So I let the queen have them.

Luca nods. “Angarr says Loki has been up to his old tricks. And Freyja is watching, waiting, for something. They haven't been seen outside of Asgard at least, but still. Fuck. Do you think it’s true?”

I sneer, gripping the bottle hard enough to break. “You sound almost eager to come face to face with them.”

I take another long pull, circling blood like wine on my tongue.

Luca’s eyes blow. “Wouldn’t you? The stories have been around for ages. To finally see what the mythology has depicted⁠—”

“Trust me,” I interrupt, “if Loki and Freyja are on the move, steer clear of them. Get as far away as fucking possible.”

I have no idea if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. With Loki, it can go either way. It depends on a whim. As a man, I’ve only ever seen Freyja’s wrath and never her warmth. She may be the Norse goddess associated with love, beauty, and sex, but she also reigns over war and death. Magic.

All gods are strange and unpredictable.

Yet Freyja has a soft spot for her Valkyries. I’m not sure if that includes Helene anymore.

“My, my, Nicholas. You’ll speak to Luca, but not to me? Shame on you.” Moraine winds her arm through mine, linking us at the elbow.

Three more vampires cluster behind her, cold spots in an already-chilly room.

I refuse to pull away. “Are you entitled to an interaction?”