Amara stepped into the British Museum’s foyer at precisely eleven o’clock the next morning. She’d specifically requested this location for her meeting with Trix; she’d always loved the museum’s bright, modern openness, which starkly contrasted the slightly stuffy Classical exterior. Overhead, a series of triangular glass panels made up the strange and beautiful undulating ceiling of the central area, warm sunlight bathing the museum attendees far below.

The day was uncharacteristically sunny and warm, and Londoners and tourists alike were wandering about in sleeveless tops and shorts. The normally overcast city had begun to look more like laid-back Los Angeles than its usual greyish self.

Amara found Trix sitting at a square metal table in the museum’s café, a cup of herbal tea in hand as she people-watched with a little smile on her face. The Hunter was glowing with some kind of maternal excitement, her mass of red hair highlighting the rosiness of her cheeks.

“It’s so good to see you,” Trix exclaimed as she rose to her feet, displaying an already impressively swollen belly that reminded Amara that it had been a long time since their last conversation.

“Sit, you,” she replied, pulling up a chair. “No need to stand up for the likes of me. And it’s good to see you too. You look so peaceful in this state. Blissful, really.”

Trix smiled, but the expression appeared to be moderated by a fair dollop of sympathy. She couldn’t return the compliment, of course. No one would ever tell Amara she looked blissful; her brow was creased with constant concern for her people and their plight. She was beautiful, yes, but she was also a fighter, a rebellion leader. A saviour of her kind. There was no such thing as relaxation for a warrior saint.

“I am happy,” Trix replied in an almost apologetic tone, rubbing her hand over her belly. “After Neko’s experience last night, I’ve become even more excited about this little creature. Have you heard? They had a boy.”

“I…yes, I did hear,” said Amara, deliberately failing to disclose her source. “So, you’re not apprehensive about childbirth?” She couldn’t help but think of Minach’s description of the sounds emerging from the birthing room, though she wasn’t about to reveal that she’d spent time with him the previous night. Trix would get all excited and ask too many questions.

“Apprehensive? Sure I am; I’m scared shitless. I assume that every woman is when she’s expecting. God only knows what it’ll feel like to have a Dragon shifter force itself into the world through my birth canal, however tiny he or she might be. But really, I think I’m ready. I’m strong. I can take a pounding. At least I think I can.” It was true, too. Trix had always been the sort of human who runs towards a fight rather than away. She thrived on opportunities to jump into the fray.

A frown briefly crossed Amara’s face as she considered how much stronger Trix was than she. The Hunter had grown particularly powerful after bonding with her Dragon shifter mate, her strength obvious in everything from her body to her eyes to the healthy pink of her cheeks. For a moment, Amara wondered what would happen if she and Minach were to…

But no. She mustn’t think about it. The Hunter’s strength was constant, reliable, and had been since well before she’d ever met Lyre. Amara’s strength came in fits and starts, and no amount of bonding with a Dragon man would fix what ailed her. “I’ll bet you can take anything in the world,” she told Trix. “You’re an impressive woman.”

Trix smiled, but the expression faded quickly. She leaned forward to speak softly, as she often did when asking Amara questions about her own life. “And you? Any prospects for love on the horizon?” As soon as she’d asked the question, a look of remorse sank her mouth into a frown and she pulled back, repulsed by her own lack of tact. “Sorry, that was so rude. A pregnant woman asking a single woman about her love life is about as obnoxious as it gets.”

“It’s all right. Perfectly natural to ask…and no,” Amara told her, reaching for her friend’s hand. God, she felt so warm. Lucky human. Heat from the Dragon who’d become a part of her, and the small creature growing daily in her belly. Her blood would never run cold, now that she and Lyre were one. “No prospects for me.”

“What about Minach? Have you seen him recently? You and he always seemed to get along so…” Trix stopped herself again before finishing the statement. “Another inappropriate question. Sorry again. It’s just, you’re the only woman I’ve ever known that he actually seems to admire. I’ve always figured that if he ended up with anyone, it would be you.”

“Minach is a complicated creature,” Amara replied with a reassuring smile on her lips, all her efforts focused on communicating that she wasn’t offended. In truth it was a relief to be able to discuss Minach a little. “He’s not exactly what you’d call boyfriend material. Then again, I’m not exactly girlfriend material, either. We’re good friends, that’s all.”

“That’s all? I don’t know about that,” Trix said, winking. “I’ve seen how you two look at each other. But I also know how secretive you are, so I’ll lay off. As for Minach being complicated, he’s become less of a plonker since he and Lyre patched things up, but only a little. He has a chip on his shoulder that just won’t go away.”

“A chip on his shoulder that I don’t understand. Then again, I’m not so familiar with his past as you are. I know it has to do with Lyre’s deafness, but Minach’s never told me what happened that day.”

“He hasn’t?” Trix asked. “I suppose I could tell you, if you want to know.”

Amara swallowed and shook her head. Much as she’d always been curious, it didn’t seem right to ask Trix anything. “If he ever wants me to know, he can open up. It wouldn’t be right for me to ask you about it.”

“Fair enough,” said Trix. “All that matters is that Lyre knows his brother loves him and would give anything to trade places with him, if it would make Minach’s life easier.” She let out a sigh. “I do wish he would get over it. Lyre’s perfectly happy, and sometimes he says it’s even a blessing to have no hearing. Last night, for instance.”

“During the birth, you mean?”

“Yes. I’ll admit that it was a pretty frazzling ordeal. Anyhow, Lyre was the only one of us who managed to get through it unscathed; he didn’t have to listen to Neko.” Trix’s lips curled up in a little smile. “But I know he would have covered my ears if I’d ask him to. He’s very protective.”

“He is a very good man,” said Amara. “You’re fortunate to have found each other.” She lay her hands in her lap and stared down at them, trying in vain to conceal the heaviness in her chest. To think that Minach had once had the potential to be as calm, as happy as Lyre was. Instead, he’d turned into the man known as Grumpyface. A shifter whose reputation for intimidating and terrifying the younger members of his Guild preceded him.

“Amara, what’s going on with you?” Trix asked quietly. “You seem really sad. I’m not used to seeing you looking anything but strong and invincible. The way you took out the Forsaken under Glastonbury Tor…”

“That was a long time ago now.” Yes, she had fought with strength then. She didn’t quite have the heart to tell the Hunter that ever since that day, a lasting weakness had set into her body. “I’m sorry,” she replied. “I suppose I am a little down. I’m being reminded daily that while others thrive, my kind needs to die out and fade into obscurity, myself included. I know that I need to let them go. The most responsible thing I could do would be to let the Enlightened disappear from the face of the earth.”

“Oh, come on. The Enlightened are the Dragons’ best allies. Why would you say a thing like that?”

“Because it’s the truth. We’re genetically flawed, to put it mildly. I wouldn’t wish this disease of mine on my worst enemy, let alone on offspring. My parents were lovely and kind, but they did me a real disservice when they created me.”

“But you’re amazing. You’re strong and…”

Amara shook her head. “I’m not strong anymore, and you know it. The question I’m most frequently asked by strangers in this damned city is ‘excuse me, Miss, are you all right?’ That’s not strength. I’m perceived as weak, and there’s a reason for it. I’m fading, Trix.”

Trix blew out a quick puff of air. “Well, don’t. We need you. You’ve been invaluable to the Guild. You’re the greatest ally the Dragons ever had, human or otherwise. When the time finally comes to uncover the fourth Relic, I hope you’ll be around to help, as always.”

“I will always help the Guild, as long as I draw breath. The Dragons have protected my people in London from our enemies. I’ll always be grateful for that.”

“It’s amazing,” said Trix, leaning back in her seat and staring at her friend.

“What’s that?”

“How much more loyal you are to the Guild than Tryst was, even though she was a Dragon shifter. To think she’s still out there…” Trix let out a visible shudder as her eyes turned skyward. There was little chance that she’d spot the creature who’d come to be known as the Red Dragon in the clouds above the museum’s glass ceiling, but Tryst’s shadow hung constantly over the Guild, a reminder that she’d gone rogue some time ago. “Who knows what she’s been up to? No one’s heard from her in ages, not since her betrayal. All we know is how much she hates hybrids. She also hates the Guild, which she made pretty damned obvious when she betrayed Ashlyn and Aegis. I wouldn’t put it past her to try something.”

“I wouldn’t either.” Amara sighed. “Tryst is misled by her old hatreds. She doesn’t understand people like me, because she’s always had the privilege of Dragon’s blood running through her veins. She can feel superior because every part of her is powerful. Someone like Tryst fails to understand my kind, because she’s never had to imagine losing her Dragon, or feeling weak with hunger. I’d give anything to turn things around and to have my Wolf be my strength, instead of this constant…” She stopped talking, clenching her hands together in a tangled knot. There was no need to conclude the sentence; Trix knew exactly what she was talking about.

She squeezed Amara’s forearm. “The craving. You’ve talked about it before, and I know it’s difficult. I’m so sorry you have to go through it.”

“It’s fine. Self-pity, and nothing more.”

“Don’t talk like that. Besides, you’re allowed to feel sorry for yourself around me. I understand being deprived of something that you need so badly that it hurts.”

“Yes, you do.” Amara’s dark eyes met Trix’s and her lips curled up. It did her heart good to think of what her friend and Lyre had been through during their quest to find one another. Their bond and their protective natures were remarkable. For a moment she allowed herself to wonder if Minach had it in him to be as good a mate as Lyre was.

“As for your Wolf, is there any way to bring her out?” Trix asked. “Can’t you summon her? I’d think it would help to set her free now and then.”

Her friend shook her head, her dark hair falling in long strands around her cheekbones. “I haven’t been in Wolf form since before the incident under the Tor. I’m too weak now to set her loose. The blade did something to me…” Amara shuddered to recall the pain of the knife plunged deep into her flesh by a Forsaken on that fateful day. “It put my Wolf to sleep for good.”

Trix’s eyes welled with tears. “Amara, I had no idea. I thought your wounds had healed. I thought you were fully recovered.”

“Not fully. Dragon bone is effective for more than just its strength. The blade set poison into my bloodstream. Dragon bone is generally used to take down Forsaken, but remember, we share the same unfortunate genetic makeup. It had the same effect on me as it would have on one of their kind. A chronic exhaustion set in that day, and I’m not entirely sure that I can ever recover.”

Trix looked around to see if anyone was listening before leaning forward. “Are you getting all the nourishment you need?”

Amara closed her eyes against the word. Nourishment. Her friend meant blood, of course.

“I have a supplier of animal blood,” she replied, her eyes shifting to a distant spot on the floor. “I try and hide it in other drinks, in cooked food, in anything I can get my hands on, so long as I can mask the taste.”

“Doesn’t it help?”

“It keeps me alive. That’s all I can really ask—to stay alive and strong enough to do the work that I’m here to do. I need the strength to protect my own, and to go about my daily routine under the guise of a relatively healthy human.”

“Well, that brings us to the reason I wanted to talk to you in the first place,” said Trix, her face lighting up slightly. “I’d nearly forgotten that this was meant to be a goddamned business meeting.”

Amara let out a much needed chuckle, even though its tone was tinged with bitterness. “As had I. So what do you have going on in that mischievous mind of yours?”

Trix shifted excitedly in her seat, a glowing smile painting itself across her lips. “I talked to Bertie recently about having you come on as an employee of the Syndicate. I told her how valuable you are, how skilled. You have all the gifts of a Hunter, and then some. I said you’d be a valuable asset to the organization.”

Amara’s spine straightened, excitement and hope flooding her system. The Syndicate was a group of Hunters and assassins—otherwise known as Hashes—hired to control the populations of the Lapsed and the Forsaken, the creatures who threatened London’s human population. To find employment among their ranks might give her the feeling that she had a place in this world, that she’d been just a little more accepted by both humans and shifters alike.

There was only one issue.

“I don’t know that I’d be welcomed with open arms into the Syndicate,” she said. “Humans tend to balk at the presence of Enlightened in their midst. Even if they don’t know what it is about us that they fear, they do tend to fear us.”

Trix shook her head and took another sip of her tea. “Not these humans. They would show you nothing but respect. I mean, don’t get me wrong; we’ve had our arseholes in past. I remember one, named Vail. He was a Hash, an assassin, and good at it, too—but he took off after the business with Neko and Lumen went down, never to return. The Syndicate’s basically become a group of arse-kicking women who support one another. Like Fight Club, only with knives, lipstick and tits.”

Amara laughed at the image. “The first rule of the Syndicate is…?”

“Don’t talk about the Syndicate, of course. The second is bring Bertie chocolates when you go see her. I’ve set up a meeting for you two days from now, if you want it.”

Amara pondered the idea. “I’m more than happy to meet with her, but I don’t know what I could offer. Other than chocolates, of course.”

Trix chuckled and shook her head. “Tons. You’d most likely become a liaison between humans, shifters and others. Look at all you’ve done; you move around England, helping whenever you can by connecting shifters and Enlightened. You have the best Intelligence sources of anyone I know. Besides all that practical crap, I think it would be good for you. Come on, Amara, you have the gift of Sight. Don’t you foresee a future where you’re running around, saving the world with rosy cheeks and a full bank account?”

Amara lost her smile. “No,” she said, the word full of grim finality. “I can’t say that I foresee a lovely future for myself. The truth is that I don’t seek out my visions much these days; they’re too unpleasant.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. It’s just—not all of us are meant to have happy endings, Beatrix. You ask if I’ve seen the future, and I can only tell you that my visions make me feel frightened, hopeless. There is a great deal of cruelty in this world, unfortunately, and many of us are its victims.”

“I won’t accept that,” said Trix. “I have a baby to raise, and I won’t raise him—or her—in a world that’s so cynical as what you’re describing.”

“Then teach your child that all creatures are equal, and all deserve to be treated with respect,” said Amara, her tone earnest. “Teach him not to hate those who aren’t like him. The Enlightened are victims of fate, and so are the Forsaken, believe it or not. The only difference is that the latter have given in to a desire that the Enlightened resist.”

“You mean they’ve consumed human blood.” Trix shuddered visibly as she uttered the words.

“Yes, I do. But it isn’t always out of cruelty. The dependency has been forced on them, just as a heroin addiction can be forced on an unborn child. It’s not always fair to blame them for their weakness.”

“A heroin addict can be helped. Why can’t we help the Forsaken, or you, for that matter?” Trix asked. “Why isn’t there a cure for this disease?”

“Because some of us are beyond help. Some diseases are chronic and incurable.”

“Well, if there is a way, I know you’ll find it. If there’s anything I can do to help, I hope you know I’ll always be here for you.”

Amara was about to answer when Trix’s phone began to skitter across the table like a drunken insect. She grabbed it and stared at the message on the screen for a moment before speaking.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s…Kliev,” Trix said, her voice choking out in disbelief. “Something terrible has happened.”