At first, I don’t think I realize I’m dreaming.

I’m not sure where I am. There’s the frantic pace of traffic behind me, the furious beeping of the cabs and a speech pattern I’m not used to. I think it’s Romanian, but I’m not completely sure. I don’t know every single attraction or street there. It’s not like I’ve ever been, but the huge fountain before me screams “not American.”

A little girl behind me with dark brown hair and luminous eyes drops a coin into the fountain.

Confused, I turn to her and ask the obvious. “Where are we?”

She rattles off a fast litany of what can only be an eastern European language, but I make out a few words even in the rush: “Unirii fântână” and “Parlament.” I’m no expert, but I can guess it’s the parliament building in Bucharest and one of the Unirii Square Fountain. The large, billowy dress that flows around me reminds me of pictures of my grandmother at Woodstock. It’s very California, that’s true, but unfortunately, it’s also very 1969. Stark white too, and that chills me more than it should. It’s like I’m dressed for ritual sacrifice.

I hope to God or whoever watches over vampires that I’m not.

My hands search for the pockets at either side of my hips. I shove my hands in and yank out a handful of coins. Tossing them into the fountain in the middle of the square I’m standing in, I wish as hard as I can for what I need most – a clue.

The scene spins around me, and I’m nowhere near Bucharest. I might still be in Romania. And with the beautiful architecture, rolling hills, and cooler weather, it’s likely I actually am. But the grounds of the estate I’m wondering through now is far from the hustle and bustle of a city. Instead, it’s evergreen trees and bubbling streams everywhere I look. I look up, and see mountains in the distance. Unsure of what to do, I wander the grounds, slipping past the cascades and the labyrinthine hedges. Eventually, like something out of Alice in Wonderland, I wander past a myriad of stone faces, swollen cheeks heavy even in the rock. From their mouths spew more of the water from the fountains. At least six monstrous, throaty water spouts regard me, spitting their water out in languid streams.

Turning from the grotesque sight, I run through the grounds. The scenery changes around me again, and I’m in a tower, something narrow and decrepit, nothing like the wide turret on Carver’s property. The figure before me stands tall, towers above me and must be close to seven feet. I know instinctively the man---it must be a man, right---is taller than either Carver or even Lucian. A wrinkled, pruney hand roughly the color of mold reaches up and pushes down the hood.

I recoil.

It’s just an easy assumption that the face underneath will be as monstrous as the malformed hand. Instead, eyes as black as obsidian regard me from a well-lined face. A long beard falls from the man’s chin, but it’s not an unpleasant expression or a warped visage. No. The man, no the vampire before me, looks healthy and whole. There’s no mistaking the power that radiates from him like excess energy from a reactor’s core. I’ve only felt a fraction of anything like this before.

With Morana.

I bow my head. “Abehartach.”

“Find me.”

“I’m trying, but it’s hard! Morana’s cruel, but she’s smart. You have to give me more, Abe.”

He offers a smile. “I always hated that nick name, yet all my children insist upon it.”

I snort. “Your name is a mouthful.”

“Perhaps.”

“No, for sure, buddy.” I rock on my heels as the dress flows around my legs. “I don’t know how long this dream will last. Please, there has to be a way to help you.”

“I can only show you what I’ve seen, what I’ve caught glimpses of, but I don’t understand them yet more than you.”

“Visions?”

Suddenly a searing pain assaults my eyes and I blink them shut. A quick panoply of images blurs past my vision: a heavy silver ring with a signet crest and a blood red ruby set in it, a pale, elven girl with white hair overlooking the banks of a desolate river at night, and a castle. Not the types you see in Paris or England, but instead one with sharp turrets that shoot up into the sky like lances. The floor is littered with bones as well as rotting flesh. Skulls of long dead vampires cover the blood-stained dirt, their fangs sun bleached to a pearlescent alabaster.

I force my eyes open and Abehartach frowns. “I didn’t mean you pain, Dria, but I cannot shield you from what I see coming.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You must figure it out. It’s your destiny.”

Another flash and I scream as pain blasts through my temples. There’s Lavinia before me and the Daks, but they’re chained to stone walls. Their clothes are shredded around them and their skin is sunken and their cheeks hollow from lack of feeding.

It’s too much. I back away from Abe, my voice no longer my own. My back hits the cold brick of the tower wall behind me and I scream and scream, a long, never-ending howl into the night.

* * *

Carver’s strong arms are around me, and I shudder in his grasp. He brings me tight to his chest and I rock against him. The silk sheets and large mahogany bedposts bring me back to my actual world. I’m here in Versailles, safe on my lover’s estate, and nowhere near Abe. Or Romania for that matter. But it felt real, and I know now that there’s a bridge formed between the ancient king and me. He’s reaching out to me, and his ability to do so is getting stronger.

Fuck if the visions aren’t more terrifying than last time.

“Chérie, what’s wrong? You sounded as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”

“I was howling louder than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs,” I reply, slightly amused and even grateful for his English quirks. Like the sheets, that slip grounds me to this reality and not to the nightmare I’ve just survived.

“Same thing.”

“Hey!” Row and Reina skid into the room, and I groan.

Granted, I’m at least dressed in an old t-shirt of mine and, before we passed out after another round of loving making, Carter slipped on some boxers.

“I mean, hello, knock much?” I snark. “Wait. What are you guys even doing here?” I ask, considering my bestie and her beau were supposed to be in Nice. Also, did I mention that my t-shirt only covers just enough.

The first rays of the early morning sun are creeping through the curtains as Reina looks at her feet and Row sighs.

“We drove all night to get back.” Reina’s the first to blurt the answer out, and I’m not surprised. Reina, like me, is gifted at talking too much and sharing all the TMI. “After Carver received that text from Harlow, he knew that Rowland had to be here for extra protection for you. Lucian’s been contacted too. He’ll be at the centennial tonight for sure.”

“What?” My eyes widen at the mention of Lucian. I hope that interest isn’t obvious. Lucian isn’t mine to have because of his other ties, but we’re all thrown into this bizarre alliance---this love---between me, Carver, and Lucian. Carver may not like Lucian and, okay, understatement of the year, but the jealous bullshit won’t get us anywhere. Lucian and I are destined too, and the power of the harem matters if we’re going to stop Morana.

“You heard her,” Row says, trying to keep things short. “Lucian is on his way and the cavalry is here. Now, why were you screaming like a banshee on a bender?”

Blushing, I gesture down at the bed. “Look, we can meet in the east wing’s main parlor in about ten minutes, but can a girl get some pants on first?”

Rowland waggles his eyebrows at Carver. “Carvell has a lot left to teach you. Vampires don’t care much for human mores and nudity isn’t discouraged.”

Carver practically growls at Row and tosses a pillow at his head. “Everyone out. We’ll see you in a few.”

Once they’re gone, I hop out of bed, slip into my room and grab the nearest pair of jeans, bra, and a plum v-neck t-shirt. Then I hurry to my bureau and rake a brush through my hopelessly disheveled hair. Back in the hall, I bump into Mr. Sex on a Stick, himself. Carver’s put on a pair of jeans that hang dangerously low on his hips and a white t-shirt that is tight enough to show off the curves of his pecs and abs. I lick my lips and have to remind myself there’s already been pleasure. Now that I’ve had a scary-ass vision from the big guy, I need to get my ass in gear.

Pity, because Carver looks so hot.

“Ma belle, are you ready to follow me out there?”

I nod and let him lead me through the maze of passages and halls to the main sitting room. Reina’s already curled on a settee and draped over Row’s lap. Sheepishly, I wave at her.

“Hey, didn’t know a bad dream needed a full 911.”

Reina sighs and pushes a blue-tinted pigtail behind her shoulder. “It does since last time you had a vision of Old Abe. Did you this time?”

“Yes,” I answer.

Even though Carver offers me a spot to sit, I stay standing. Maybe it keeps me grounded in this moment. Then again, maybe I’m scared I’ll just nod off again if I’m not on my feet. Either way, I remain upright and even pace as I relate the ins and outs of my vision. When I’m done, I’m panting a little and Reina offers me a sympathetic look.

“I think that wherever Abe’s hidden, that it’s either in Romania or close to that city in the country side,” I finish. “Everything I saw was basically jibberish to me other than the signs for Bucharest, and it was like a big effing neon sign where we have to hunt next.”

Rowland shares a look with Carver, then shakes his head. “Aura, we can’t.”

“Why not?” I demand, putting my hands on my hips. “If we get to Abe and help fully resurrect him, then we have a huge honking ally in this. I’m ready to give him whatever blood he needs for that ritual. Sign me up if it gets the Bitch Queen out of my life.”

“You can’t go, ma belle, because our race doesn’t have any rights to lands in Romania.”

“Your race?” Reina asks, crinkling up her nose in confusion.

“Yes, we have the Kresova, who are the oldest, most powerful and, frankly, most populous of the vampire races,” Carver says. “The others tend to congregate in their own areas. Most of Europe and east of France for one, Russia and Asia for the second, and African lands for the third. The Kresova stick to France westward, toward the Atlantic and the New World. That was the deal the three other races struck with Morana before Christ even walked the earth.”

Reina frowns. “Why would she strike a deal?”

“Because even she didn’t have quite the power to eradicate all competition and all royal lines. She could do enough with her assassins,” Row adds. Then he stops and shrugs at Carver. “I’m sorry my friend.”

“I am one of her assassins, technically active again. There’s no need to hide it,” Carver replies.

“Anyway, she drove enough fear into them with the levels of power she had two millennia ago. Now, the races have kept up a delicate détente,” Row continues. “The way we all survive---all of vampire kind---is that we obey the laws of faction division. We don’t cross the lines.”

Reina snorts. “Is that like ‘don’t cross the streams?’”

“Huh?” Carver tilts his head.

Rolling my eyes, I pat his arm. “Never mind. What matters is that the politics don’t matter this time. If we’re going to get to Abe, we have to go through Romania and probably other parts of Europe to do it.”

Row shakes his head. “And you would be going through the territory of the Draugur. None of us Kresova have jurisdiction there, and if we’re caught sneaking over, then we could start a war that would rock all of vampire kind to its foundations.”’

“And if we don’t go,” Reina says. “That evil bitch will run all your lives for eternity.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and focus on Carver. “But it’s possible that what I saw is true, right?”

Carver strokes the stubble on his chin and eyes Row. “Yes, I think it’s actually brilliant. It’s a bold move to hide Abe under the noses of the ruling race there, right near the Draugur but none of the Kresova would be any the wiser.”

Rowland nods. “It’s impossible for any of us to get him without starting a war. It’s an utterly masterful stroke. Knowing where he is makes it even harder to get him, not easier.”

“But the ruling families of the other races are coming tonight for a party. They’re crossing into Morana’s territory. How does that not cause a riot or a civil war?” I demand.

Carver takes my hand and squeezes it. Some of the anger abates, but not all. It can’t be like this, that I’m this close to being able to find Abehartach, but stupid politics is going to doom everything before we even mount up a mission.

“Aurora, ma belle,” he says. “We only cross faction lines when there’s a centennial for the reigning family or the royal head of the faction specifically request help from their royal counterpart in another territory. There is no sneaking over, no just conducting an off-book spy mission.”

“We’re fast,” I protest, “and there’s only three of us, we could sneak in and out.”

“And they’ll still know,” Row counters. “This is a terrible idea. Abe might be only a few hundred miles away in Romania…”

“Still a ‘might,’” Reina points out.

“…but,” Row continues, “he might as well be on the damn moon for all the good it does us.”

“We have to go,” I say on a shudder. “You don’t understand what I saw.”

“We will make sure Lavinia and the Daks are safe in time, and we’ll find the white-haired girl. We’ll get our king, but we have to be smart, and we cannot start a war, not like this,” Carver says.

I swallow and try and chew back the fear and anger roiling in me. “Then what are we supposed to do?”

“I’m going to take you to the kitchen and get you some breakfast, and Row and Reina are going to the study, do some more research on ways we might yet travel into Draugur territory undetected.”

Sighing, I follow him, even though I feel like even my lover can’t understand the urgency burning inside of me. Abe showed me such horrible things, and I can’t help but feel our time is running out.

* * *

Sitting on at the elegantly carved table, I grin despite my bad mood. Carver has had his staff set out a veritable feast for me: eggs benedict with hollandaise, pastries of all sorts, black coffee piping fresh and hot, a mountain of decadent strawberries and melons, and more bacon and sausage than ten people could eat.

I grab a plate and dig greedily into the eggs benedict first. “I don’t need to eat.”

“You still like it, a habit that’ll grow more dull and useless with maturity, but I wanted to do something nice for you. After your nightmare, I think something to help calm you is more than needed.”

“It was a vision, and we’re in trouble. Lavinia and Abe are probably in trouble.”

“Yes, but you have to understand the races you’re dealing with first. The Kresova, Draugur, Baetal, and the Istria have existed as long as time in memoriam. If Abehartach is the father of our race, then there are rulers almost as old as he is for the other factions. They have their own power---not as much as Morana has amassed---but they’re not enemies you wish to cross. Besides, if we start any wars, then Morana will surely figure out what we’re doing and strive to stop us. Cut us down long before we’re ready.”

“And how did any of this come to be?” I ask, setting my food down. The enormity of what we’re trying to accomplish, struggling to fight against, has left me drained and anything but hungry. “Are we demons? You say we have two souls.”

“We’re neither demonic or angelic. Magic helped form us, but it’s like I told you, you’re the one who chooses to how to live and act. You can be a monster like Morana or someone who has lines they won’t cross. There are Kresova who never do more than drink the bagged blood now provided for them.”

“But how did we start?”

“Only the four most ancient kings know our true origin, and all but Abe have been subdued and murdered by their own fledglings. The royal heads who remain are old and powerful, most as old at least as Morana, but none of the vampires still fully undead and roaming the earth know all our secrets. When the time comes, you’ll have to ask Abe everything. Mon Dieu, I’ll be right there with you, trying to get answers to the questions gnawing at my own mind for centuries.”

“And the races? Is it all geography?”

“Not all of it. We each have our own particular skills, or at least we did. The oldest of each race still have preternatural skills, psychic gifts if you will. Most of the vampires if they’re under three hundred or come from weak bloodlines---regardless of race---do not.”

“Wait, so you’re four hundred. What extra skills do you have?”

“My ability to track my prey and almost know what their next move it. Not quite a name for it, but consider it like being the worlds best hunter. Each of La Tieur have the skill.”

“Holy fucking shit.”

“Yes, the Kresova who are powerful enough are gifted with psychic visions. That should be obvious to you with your connection even now with Abehartach.”

“Do you play the lottery a lot?”

Carver chuckles and takes a bite of a sausage before continuing. “I don’t have gifts nearly as strong as yours, dear Dria.”

“Oh?”

He takes a long sip of orange juice and I wonder if, just maybe, my still-human nature is rubbing off on him. “I have instincts, a feeling of what’s coming in battle that makes me hard to sneak up on, a sixth sense for my opponent’s position most of the time.”

“What do the others do?”

“The Draugur can control elements with their minds if they are strong enough. It’s the ultimate weapon. Think about being able to form a wall of fire around an enemies stronghold.” Carver wiggles his brows.

“That’s crazy. Wouldn’t want to piss of their ruler. And the Baetal?”

“Now, they can see into an objects history. They’re like the magical item finders.”

“Shit.”

“Yes, now you know why you can’t start an all-out war with the factions. I realize time is pressing, but we must be smart in how we hunt for Abe.”

“What about the Istria? What can they do?” I’ve got to know whatelse I’m up against.

“They’re power rests in pure magic. They’re said to have created the first witch.”

“And how will I stand up to courts full of witch creaters, magical totem finders, and people who can manipulate the elements?”

“Only the oldest have that kind of control, and their attention will mostly be focused on Morana and whatever machinations she’s trying to force on them.”

I snort and roll a strawberry between my fingers. “So, for once Morana being a rancid bitch is actually going to work in my favor.”

“Just this time.”

“At least it’s a start.”