I found the address Gideon Brent had given me, which belonged to a small shop on Harrison Avenue, right in the center of town; it was called Poppy’s Pudding and Pie. The quaint downtown area made me feel I’d traveled 100 years back in time, to a period when I’d still almost been alive. It was five o’clock on a Sunday morning. The sky was just starting to lighten, though most of the city had yet to wake.

I took a seat at an outside table since none of the shops had opened yet, and I enjoyed the crisp mountain air, patiently waiting for my mysterious contact to arrive. The chairs and tables were left outside, nothing chained or bolted down, reminding me how safe the town considered itself.

It only took ten minutes for a burly pickup truck with rust around the fenders to stop directly across the street from me. Only one other car had passed during my short time here, but the pickup didn’t even slow as it went by, let alone stop anywhere in the vicinity.

A tall, fair-skinned blonde woman stepped down from the driver’s cab, dressed in a hoodie, leggings, and furry white boots. Aviator sunglasses were tucked into her hair like a shiny headband.

“You look like a Matthew,” she said in an even, melodic voice. “Waiting for a ride?”

“I didn’t know Matthews had a specific look,” I said, sarcastically. “You look like a Cindy.”

“Eerily close,” she said, remaining by her open truck door. “It’s Syrithia, actually.”

“And I was actually thinking Cynthia.” I hopped to my feet and crossed the deserted street.

“And if you’d said that, I would have gotten back in my truck and driven off.” Syrithia gave a wry smile and held out an open palm. “You must first pay the toll if you wish to cross the river and enter the land of the dead.”

“Charming,” I said, fished out the golden coin the consul had given me and tossed it to her while I rounded the back of the pickup.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Matthew,” she said and climbed into the cab. The truck was still running, the keys swaying a little as they hung from the ignition, so as soon as I closed my door, she hit the gas.

I periodically glanced at Syrithia as she drove us out of town, and within minutes we were on a quiet, two-lane road with a whole lot of nothing stretching out on either side. She was a beautiful woman looking to be in her early thirties—but I knew how deceiving looks were, especially among my kind. However, something wasn’t right with her. Her skin, despite its flawless texture, was darker than I was used to, like a human who’d spent countless working hours in the sun. Her eyes, though striking and beautiful, didn’t have the extra predatory sparkle that lured in humans.

“You’re not a vampire,” I said, bluntly.

“Correct,” she replied, turning to give me a half smile, but not offering anything more.

“I find it hard to believe the Order would use a human to bring a vampire into Noctem City.”

“I wholeheartedly agree.”

I blinked at her, trying to determine if she was messing with me or not. “Then you’re an angel?”

“Do you always catch on this quickly?”

“Give me a break; it’s five in the morning,” I complained. “And I’ve been driving all night.”

“I thought vampires didn’t get tired,” she mused.

“Everyone gets tired.” I looked out of the window, seeing a small airport coming into view—not a commercial one, but a single landing strip with a few hangars, housing propeller planes and helicopters. A stand-alone control tower stood just off the runway, a beacon in the early morning light. Leadville County Airport was written on a weathered sign. “More traveling to do?”

“There are no roads to get where we’re going,” Syrithia said and drove her truck behind one of the hangars. She hopped down without saying a word.

I didn’t know if she expected me to follow or wait in the truck, but considering the choices, I’d rather follow.

She met me around the passenger side. “Do you have any weapons?”

“No,” I admitted.

She stopped directly before me and gestured for me to raise my arms. “I still need to check. It’ll also help me determine how well we can trust one another.”

“I’ve got nothing to hide,” I said as she began to pat me down.

She was fast and efficient, obviously having done this before. Some of her examinations seemed a tad more invasive than necessary, but who was I to complain when they were coming from the hands of a beautiful woman, one I didn’t crave?

“Seems we’re starting off on a good foot,” Syrithia said, clapping her hands excitedly, then leading me to a small, two-person helicopter.

I didn’t see anyone else around. “You a pilot too?”

“I’m a regular jack-of-all-trades,” she replied, opening the door, and motioning for me to go around to the opposite side.

Syrithia strapped herself in, donned her helmet and mic, and started the engine. As soon as I put on the helmet from the passenger seat, the world went completely dark.

“My visor’s blacked out,” I commented into the microphone, reminding me of the precautions we’d taken with candidates countless times before.

“You continue to amaze me with how observant you are,” Syrithia said.

“And your sarcasm is wearing my patience thin.”

“Then you’re more than welcome to get out and go home right now if you prefer.”

“I’ll deal with it,” I answered and closed my eyes as we took off.

I nodded off several times throughout the flight, only to be awoken by Syrithia marveling at the majestic landscape I couldn’t see. I bit my tongue and didn’t respond. Once, I even started to remove my helmet but it was met with a stern warning.

“Don’t you dare! I will turn this car around and drive straight home!” Syrithia laughed.

“Do you torment all your passengers?”

“Only the ones I like,” she replied, then continued describing the snowcapped landscape.

When we arrived, I was surprised to discover she hadn’t lied about the snow. It was mid-May, and I’d have thought all the snow would have been melted by now. We couldn’t have gone that far north; I couldn’t imagine this helicopter having a range of more than 300 or 400 miles.

I wasn’t wearing shoes for trekking through the snow, but knew complaining about it would only land me another sarcastic remark, so didn’t comment.

I hopped down from the helicopter while the propeller was still winding down overhead. The air was brisk, but that was something that didn’t affect my kind until the temperature dropped to extreme cold—around fifty below zero. Our bodies were tough, but not invincible. Frostbite was still a very real possibility.

“So, this is Noctem City…” I said, gazing out at the mountaintop village.

“Cozy, isn’t it?”

That was not exactly how I would have described it. If Leadville felt like traveling back in time one hundred years, this medieval city-state looked four hundred years older. The town was made up of wooden shops and houses arranged in a large circle, and at its center rose a cylindrical stone tower, its zenith disappearing into low-lying clouds. There were no cars—or any kind of modern transportation that I could see besides the helicopter we’d flown in on. I could mostly see bundled-up people walking through the streets, along with a few horse-drawn carriages and wagons.

As we walked into the town, an arched sign was stretching across the path we seemed to be walking on. It read: Imperium in imperio, translating as an empire within an empire, the same maxim from the golden coin. Beyond that, no visible markings confirmed this was Noctem City.

The circling of large birds below the cloud line caught my attention as we entered a main street with a cleared path to the tower. But as I looked more closely, I realized they weren’t birds, but angels patrolling the sky, orbiting the tower. And what at first looked like open windows in the stone going up the tower’s cylindrical wall, I now saw were open doorways or landing platforms for the angels, several of which were actively being guarded.

“Can you fly?” Syrithia asked, noticing my skyward gaze.

“Not currently,” I said.

“Then I’ll take you.”

Before I knew it, she had her arms wrapped underneath my armpits and my whole body was tugged off the ground. We went soaring through the thin air, headed straight for the tower. The people walking through the town’s streets didn’t seem surprised or alarmed whatsoever. So accustomed to a supernatural presence, no one even looked up.

We approached one of the highest visible openings in the tower, then Syrithia released me to drop to the stone landing. The rush of her flapping wings pushed me in even more, then she set foot on the landing much more gracefully. She folded her wings, but they remained visible.

Ahead of me was a short, arched corridor, leading to a large spiral staircase.

“Allow me to show you the way,” she said, squeezing past, our eyes meeting as her soft body rubbed against mine.

The tower didn’t seem to be broken up into floors like a traditional building; there were simply regular openings along the staircase in either direction. We began our ascent, already most of the way to the top. The center space where the stairs wound around was completely open—no guardrail—just a drop descending hundreds of feet to an unforgiving stone floor below.

On reaching the top of the stairs, we stepped into what looked like a banquet room, an open space making up the entire level of the tower. Gigantic, intricately-designed candlelit chandeliers hung from the high ceiling. Balcony boxes lined one section of the circular room, all currently empty. A curved dais was positioned directly ahead with seven large, high-backed wooden chairs. The center chair sat on a higher platform than the others, denoting its superior rank.

Voices echoed throughout the space from three men sitting at one end of a long wooden table. They were far too engaged in their conversation to hear us enter, so Syrithia stepped forward to announce our arrival.

“Good morning, gentlemen. Please forgive the intrusion, but this is Matthew Mercer, for whom you sent,” Syrithia said, gesturing to me as the men turned their attention my way.

“You’re early,” one said.

“We made good time,” Syrithia said. “No point in waiting around, watching the clock.”

“I’ll call for the others,” the man closest to us said. He stood and left down the spiral staircase.

“See? You’ll have to wait anyway,” came the voice of the first man.

“Not I,” Syrithia said, a grin spreading across her face. “I’m just the messenger.” She turned and clapped me on the shoulder as she made her way for the stairs. “I’ll meet you at the chopper when you’re done.” And then she was gone.

It took nearly an hour for the full Order to assemble, and when all seven were seated on the dais, I realized one of them was familiar, someone I’d met a handful of times previously—it was Bertram Lovell, the former consul of Los Angeles. It seemed he’d gotten quite the promotion. He didn’t say anything to acknowledge our previous meetings, but there was a brief non-verbal exchange. I wondered if he was the real reason I was here?

“Matthew, it was good of you to come,” said the man with long black hair in the center chair. “I am Chairman Blackwater.”

“Thank you for the invitation, Chairman,” I said, bowing low. “It is an honor to be admitted into Noctem City. I must admit, I didn’t expect to see so many angels.”

“Since we are indebted to each other, it seems only natural we should work together.”

“Isn’t it dangerous to have so many in such close proximity? I understand they are powerful and thus would be powerful allies. But the blood of just one could kill us all.”

“Then you make sure to surround yourself with those you trust,” the Chairman replied, seemingly not put off by my questions. “Angels are not the enemy. We all came from one at some point in our lineage. Were you birthed, Matthew?”

“I was not. I was made, like most of us,” I said.

“And do you have a relationship with your creator?”

“Relationship, yes. Though I wouldn’t call it a healthy one.”

“That’s a shame,” he said, leaning to one side in his oversized seat. “It’s good for us to have a true connection with where we came from. I am a birthed vampire, and my mother is still around, protecting our sacred city and helping to ensure the safety of our empire within an empire. Which brings me to the reason for your invitation. We have been told you are from the legendary and elusive True North Society. Is that a correct statement?”

“Yes.”

“But we hear from the Los Angeles consul that you are more than just another member. Is that also true?”

I swallowed hard. “It is.”

“It is said your group possesses an oracle giving you glimpses into the future. That can give you a great advantage—and is perhaps the reason your group has grown to such a legendary status over the past few decades, continuing to elude all of the major world authorities.”

“The True North Society has been on our radar for nearly two decades, but every time our spies seemed to be getting close, they would be lost to mysterious circumstances,” said the woman with long golden hair, seated second from the right. “And your members would disappear like the wind.”

“Just as they were taught,” I said. “We operate beyond the realm of regular society. I’m sure you can appreciate that.”

“But with a vampire at the helm, we expect to be compensated like any other business,” Bertram said, his green eyes bright as he grinned wide. “You’ve been operating off the books.”

“The True North Society is not a vampire-run business, and thus does not fall within your jurisdiction.”

Now, it was time for the man seated far left to speak up.

“Then,” he said, “With all the genocide your group could be accused of, you should be brought up on charges of crimes against vampires.” His bushy eyebrows furrowed, at odd juxtapositions with his nose; it was long and slender and seemed to point slightly upward, even with his head level.

“If you say so,” I challenged. “What proof do you have?”

“We have time to collect the evidence.”

“Colleagues, let’s remember what’s important here and why we have asked Matthew to come,” the Chairman interjected. “We can strip this young vampire of his powerful position, or we can use it to our benefit. Matthew, how can we meet this oracle of yours? We all have questions we’d like to ask. With the durations of our lives as they are, we could so greatly benefit from his wisdom.”

“I’m sorry, but you can’t,” I said.

“Then what possible good are you to us?” the woman with the golden hair bit back in a tone of vitriol.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Matthew,” Bertram said. “You’ve kept this secret a long time—I know. We won’t fault you for it, but now, we do demand some cooperation.”

“I am here to cooperate,” I said. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have come. I’m not looking to die today or be tried for treason. But there are some things I simply cannot do—a few things I would be willing to die for.”

“Well, we can oblige,” the man on the far left said.

“Then how are you willing to cooperate?” the Chairman asked. “How can you help us?”

“What questions do you have for the oracle?” I asked. “I cannot give you access; bringing outsiders in will only get me killed, then we’re right back where we started—but I can get your questions addressed.”

“I want to know what kind of threat Vampire Nation poses,” the Chairman said. “It seems they’ve grown from a harmless underground vampire collective to a formidable power all their own in the span of a few years. Their true structure has also remained elusive—much like your True North Society. Are you also involved in Vampire Nation?”

“No, I am not,” I said. “They are very much their own entity, gaining ground through human hopefuls.”

“Promoting the glamorous life of vampires. Very romantic,” the Chairman said, garnering laughter from the rest of the Order.

“A decent amount of people certainly think so,” I said.

“There are rumors the public figure Damien Galt is behind the group.”

“Unfounded rumors,” said the man on the far left. “He is no vampire. He’s merely a man.”

“Be that as it may, there are enough rumors to raise concern,” the Chairman argued, then gazed expectantly at me. “Maybe this is something the oracle can shed some light on. Yes?”

“That’s what we believe,” I said. “The Oracle has pointed to him as the one who’ll bring Vampire Nation into the light—he and his partner, Clementine Biel. Together, they will change and destroy everything we now know.”

“And how much of a threat are he and his group to us?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“Then that’s something you are tasked with asking the Oracle.” The Chairman turned to the others, who mostly nodded agreement.

“The Oracle can’t see everything. Perhaps there won’t be a clear answer.” With so much information lost over the decades, there were still so many things we didn’t know about the future. I had to manage their expectations.

“Then we’ll provide clear direction, and Damien Galt and Clementine Biel must be eliminated for the sake of preservation. There’s already been one assassination attempt on Damien Galt, so it won’t seem so unreasonable.”

“And we were behind that assassination attempt,” I said. “And we were also behind several others that weren’t public. We haven’t been able to get close enough; he’s built up an impressive infrastructure around him at all times.”

“I’m sure with our combined resources, we can achieve the desired result. Cut off the head of the dragon, and the body dies along with it. Then certainty shall be restored.” The Chairman sat up straighter in his seat, projecting the power his positioning implied. “And if you’re successful, then your current infractions and requests to the consul will be pardoned and granted. We will pardon you for the wrongful deaths of two peacekeepers and the current outstanding debt against your friend.”

“And if I fail?”

“Then you shall answer for all that, and more.”

“Then I’d best not fail,” I said—though I knew my failure was inevitable.