With death on her mind, Medeia Tenebris advanced through the cramped stone tunnel. The air smelled of mildew and dragon scales. She felt like a spider stalking an intricate web, one woven to catch a very particular type of insect. In this case, dragon shifters.

Since vampire witches were forbidden in Midnight, Medeia wore elbow-length gloves over her hands, hiding the bone gauntlets she wore. She had also removed her dragon bone tiara and secreted it inside a pocket of the cape that ran to the heels of her boots.

I’m just an ordinary vampire out with my master for a walk.

Ahead of her stepped Gabriel Vespasianus, dragon king of Midnight. The powerful man was bound tight with Weaves of Air. Through those Weaves Medeia forced him to walk, his movements forced, jerky. Unnatural. It would have to do.

Two vampires, slaves of the dragons, waited at the far end of the tunnel. A man and a woman, they wore black fatigues, with headsets reaching around their cheeks so that the mics resided in front of their scarlet lips. Small bronze collars enveloped their necks. Collars of ownership.

The sight repulsed her. That members of her kind should have to stoop to these levels, serving their ancient enemy, was sickening.

Medeia curled one finger, causing the microphones the guards wore to transmit only white noise.

As Gabriel approached the slaves stood to attention.

The king of Midnight stopped in front of them.

“Sire, are you all right?” the first slave asked.

Gabriel turned his head toward that slave, but said nothing. His lower lip twitched, and his neck muscles corded, as if he strained to speak.

Medeia stepped forward, emerging from behind Gabriel. “I have come to free you.”

She waved her hand and the collars that prevented the vampires from attacking their dragon masters fell away.

“You are no longer slaves to the dragons,” Medeia continued. “You have two choices. Submit to my will and help me take Midnight. Help me liberate all vampires from the clutches of the dragons. Or die.”

The vampires stared at her for several moments, apparently stunned.

“We join you,” the first vampire said. He presented his neck to her as required by the allegiance ritual, and Medeia sank her fangs into his neck and drank deeply. She kept her eyes on the other vampire the whole time, ready to strike out if needed. When finished, Medeia addressed the woman. “And you? Do you submit?”

The female slave lowered her gaze and offered her neck.

Medeia drank; when sated she pulled away. “What are your names?”

“Christopher,” the man said.

“Felicia,” the woman replied.

Medeia beckoned into the tunnel behind her and two of the vampires given to her by Aldam, king of the Middle East, emerged from the shadows to take up guard positions next to Christopher and Felicia. She didn’t trust the new converts enough to keep watch on their own, not yet.

The arrivals, Blade and Raptor, took the headsets from Christopher and Felicia, and then Medeia released the Weave that filled the microphones with white noise.

Medeia gazed at the long winding trail that led down into the vast cavern below. Her eyes drifted to the hundreds of fenced-off estates that sprawled across the stone floor. Within those estates were mansions and outbuildings sided in gold, silver, or gems. Overhead, LEDs embedded in the far ceiling gave off a dim illumination.

“The king requests a litter,” Medeia told the former slaves.

Felicia nodded. “I’ll place the request.”

Medeia glanced at Raptor. “Give her the headset.”

Raptor bowed, and complied.

As Felicia was putting it on, Medeia said: “Remember, betray me, you die.”

Felicia made the request without any issues and then returned the headset to Raptor.

Medeia lifted one of the fallen collars and placed it around her neck. She didn’t close the locking clasp, however, and instead held it in place with a Weave of Air.

“There,” she told Gabriel. “Now I’m simply one of your slaves.”

The king didn’t answer, of course, not with the invisible binds restraining his jaw.

Medeia wore a headset of her own, which she had taken from one of the vampires guarding the opposite end of the tunnel. She had changed it to a private frequency band so she could converse with her minions.

Into the microphone she said: “Sevilla, grab a collar and join me. The rest of you keep watch in the tunnel.”

Sevilla emerged from the darkness of the tunnel. The vampire witch was dressed in a black, form-fitting outfit. She wore heavy-rimmed glasses. Like Medeia, thick black gloves hid the bone bracelets that covered her wrists. Out of the three vampire witches Aldam had given her, Sevilla seemed the most competent. Not to mention compliant.

Sevilla knelt, retrieved the remaining collar, and attached it to her throat using a similar Weave of Air, leaving the clasp at the back open so that it wouldn’t bind her to the dragons.

“What if one of the litter carriers notices the two of us are uncollared?” Felicia asked.

“Then my minions will handle them,” Medeia said. “We’ll have fake collars prepared for you once we obtain access to a forge.”

A few minutes later the litter arrived. It was essentially a long stretcher with a seat, topped by a canopy and draped by curtains, carried by four vampire slaves: shirtless strongmen dressed only in loincloths, with bronze collars at their necks. They were very pleasant to look at it, and she decided they would be her personal pets after she secured the king’s private estate.

The slaves lowered their burden beside Gabriel; Medeia manipulated her Weaves to make him move jerkingly inside the litter and take a seat.

Looking at him, she nodded to himself. That was much better. Now his unnatural walk wouldn’t draw attention. She considered closing the curtains and hiding him from view entirely, but that would only invite guards and other dragon shifters to challenge her on the streets. With the curtains open, and the king in full view, none would dare challenge his personal servants.

Medeia addressed the slaves. “Gabriel wishes you to take him to his estates.”

The slaves bowed and lifted the litter, assuming their burden. They started to carry him down the long winding trail toward the buildings below.

Medeia glanced at the Christopher and Felicia before following. “If a lone dragon comes this way, let him or her pass. If more than one dragon arrives, tell them that particular passage is closed by order of the king.”

She didn’t want her vampires to face off against more than one dragon at a time for the time being. Best to err on the side of caution.

Medeia and Sevilla followed the litter. Medeia could feel the hidden Weaves of the subterranean city pressing down on her, draining her Strength already. Magic use would be dampened here. It was a good thing she had fed on Gabriel before leaving the tunnel: the boost provided by his dragon blood made her power about equal to what it was without the dampening. Sevilla would be much weaker, of course, since she hadn’t fed on the dragon shifter, but her role was solely as backup.

When they reached the bottom of the trail, Medeia and Sevilla moved in front of the litter, taking the lead.

None of the dragon shifters out and about that morning paid them any mind. Or at least, the shifters pretended not to. She thought more than a few were watching her from the corners of their eyes.

Let them watch.

She couldn’t help but smile inside. She felt less like a spider and more like a viper now, infiltrating a den of defenseless rabbits. The same Weave that dampened magic use prevented the shifters from assuming their dragon forms in this place. They were helpless.

Medeia had some idea where Gabriel’s estate was—the vampires she had freed thus far had described it for her. But she didn’t have to worry about trying to find it on her own, because the litter-bearing slaves were guiding her right to it: she occasionally allowed them to take the lead, but once his grand palatial estate was in sight, she took her place permanently in front with Sevilla.

In moments she stood at the main gates to Gabriel’s estate. The enclosing walls were made of pure gold, and their tops reached well above Medeia’s head.

“Who are you?” one of the vampire slaves on guard duty said. “I’ve never seen either of you before.” His gaze ran doubtfully from Medeia to Sevilla.

“We’re the king’s new slaves,” Medeia said. She would try to convert these vampires to her side later, once she had the estate secured. For now all she intended to do was convince them to let her pass.

“Give me your names,” the guard said.

Medeia made up two quick names. “Felicia Hartley and Gertrude Hayes.”

The guard shook his head. “You’re not on the registry. Normally the king doesn’t allow unregistered vampires into his estate…” His eyes drifted to the litter. He was obviously expecting the king to give him some word of approval or denial.

Medeia smiled coldly. “You think the king somehow hasn’t noticed we’re in his company? That we’re trying to sneak inside right under his nose? Are you an idiot?”

“Sire?” the guard pressed, still looking at the litter. “May these two vampires enter with you?”

She glanced at the litter and altered her Weaves of Air slightly to make the king incline his head.

Medeia returned her gaze to the guard and narrowed her eyes. “You will let us pass or suffer the king’s wrath…”

The two vampires regarded her suspiciously a moment longer. One of them stepped toward the litter.

“What’s wrong with him?” the guard asked quietly. “Is he ill?”

“Yes,” Medeia said. “He hit a tree during his morning flight. Why do you think he called us to bring the litter? He’s healing well, though.”

The vampire hesitated.

“I wouldn’t delay us any longer, if I were you,” Medeia said. “He isn’t in the best of moods this morning.”

The vampire gave Gabriel a last dubious glance, and then shrugged. “Above my pay grade.”

“You’re a slave,” Medeia told him. “You don’t have a pay grade.”

“Exactly.” He and the other vampire guard stood aside.

Medeia suppressed a grin and entered with Sevilla. The litter followed just behind.

That one will be follow me loyally when the time comes.

The group passed numerous outbuildings on the way to the main mansion. A guest house. A kitchen. A servants’ quarters. A corral stuffed with livestock: mostly cattle, likely for dining purposes. Dragons had big appetites, after all. Large fans directed the stench of manure and fur away from the house. There was also a forge—which she would put to good use preparing fake vampire collars as part of the first wave of her plan.

Soon the main mansion loomed before her. An intricate fountain carved into the shape of a winged dragon resided directly in front of it.

Medeia released the Weave that would make her hyper-sensitive to the EM fields produced by security cameras, and she noted their positions.

At the front doors, a dragon guard joined the vampire on duty this time. Both were big men, dressed in camos patterned in forest digital. Assault rifles hung from their soldiers, and the hilts of swords could be seen protruding from behind their backs. Other vampires she had freed had warned her of these men. They were members of the Black Guard, the hand-picked soldiers Gabriel had chosen to guard his mansion and private hoard.

The vampire beside the dragon was uncollared, Medeia noted. Not a slave then, but here of his own accord. Too bad for him.

Medeia released three quick Weaves, these causing the nearby security cameras to cloud over. Then she reached inside the hidden pocket of her cape and retrieved the tiara, resting it squarely on her forehead. She would need all the access to the Strength she could manage in the next few moments.

The dragon guard’s eyes widened. He glanced at the king in disbelief, and then he pointed the muzzle of his rifle at Medeia. “Vampire witches are not allowed in Midnight! Step away from the king immediately!”

Medeia unleashed the necessary Air Weaves and wrapped both the dragon shifter and vampire in a thick vise at the same time.

“Open the door and clear the foyer,” she commanded Sevilla, and the vampire witch obeyed. It wasn’t locked.

Sevilla vanished inside and emerged a moment later. “It’s clear. No cameras.”

Medeia glanced over her shoulder to ensure that no other estate residents had witnessed the commotion, and then she floated the bound-up pair inside.

She scanned the foyer for signs of hidden cameras and confirmed there were none. Her EM hypersensitivity was still active, and she sensed the field produced by a microphone. She spotted it in the ceiling next to a speaker. That would be an appendage of Dan, the infamous computer system that ran Midnight. The all seeing, all knowing Dan.

Dan wouldn’t be all seeing and all knowing for very much longer.

She released the Weave that interfered with electronics, allowing the microphone to pick up only white noise. Then she turned around and waved the others forward.

Once the litter was inside, she shut the door with Air.

The vampire slaves lowered the king and stared at Medeia with a mixture of fear and awe. She still held the two Black Guards in binds of air behind her, so of course the slaves had reason to be afraid.

“Swear allegiance to me and I will grant you your freedom,” Medeia said. “Refuse, and you will die.”

The four slaves immediately knelt and presented their necks to her. She drank their blood in turn, confirming their allegiance to her as required by the ritual. She did not drink deeply, however. No, she wanted to save room for the fresh dragon shifter whose veins she was about to open.

When she finished feeding on the slaves, she ordered the four to stand and wait in a corner of the room.

Then she turned to the bound up dragon shifter. “You’re certainly a beautiful specimen. You will serve me well.”

She gestured and the dragon shifter’s arms and legs spread wide. She rolled up his sleeves with Air and studied the tribal tattoos inked into his forearms. She knew something about how to read those tattoos, and quickly realized he was no one of any particular import. Certainly not a member of the royal court. Just a dragon shifter whose weapons skills had caught the eye of the king.

Medeia began the draining spell. The amount of Strength required was taxing, and it used up nearly the last of the dragon blood flowing through her veins. As rivulets of crimson fluid emerged from pinprick wounds in the tattoos, she could feel the press of the Weave that suppressed all magic in this place even more keenly.

She opened her mouth and directed the streams of blood toward her fangs, and when the scarlet rivers touched her exposed teeth, she began to feed. At first she felt no change, but as she drank more and more, she could feel the power of the blood as it flowed through her veins, a power that beat back the constricting magic suppression. An invigorating feeling.

And then it was done. The rivulets ceased and the dragon dropped his head to his chest. He was pale as a vampire: she had drained him of the last drop of blood, to his death.

She released the Air that bound him and the dragon flopped lifelessly to the floor.

Then Medeia began the meticulous Death Weave. It was a powerful work, and it took all of her concentration to create it. One mistake, one misplaced branch of the Strength, and it could backfire, killing them all. If there were any Strengthworkers nearby with knowledge of the Death affinity, they would easily sense her work. The resident witch of Midnight, Ephephany, had no knowledge of the Death affinity, so Medeia didn’t have to worry about her. But there were some witches who could detect the usage of Death, even while having no knowledge of the affinity itself. Mostly it was witches who had associated with vampires in the past, taking them as lovers. Once again, Ephephany was not one of those.

She completed the Weave and placed it on the dead man. She watched with more than a little satisfaction as the incorporeal design sank into his forehead, taking hold, and then she released the Strength.

Medeia felt faint and was forced to rest a steadying hand on the wall beside her. The Death spell had drained her to the core, nearly depleting the fresh dragon blood flowing through her veins. The suffocating weight of the suppression Weave descended around her chest anew, threatening to choke her. She concentrated on her breathing.

I’m not choking. I’m not. The feeling will pass.

She resisted the urge to hyperventilate, and sure enough, the feeling subsided, but she still felt the weight of the anti-magic that permeated the air. She would have to rest for the next few hours, and as soon as Gabriel had regenerated enough blood, she’d drink deeply to restore her supply.

She stared at the pale body of the deceased dragon shifter, waiting for something to happen. After several uneventful moments, she wondered if she had made a mistake after all.

But then all of a sudden the dragon shifter opened his eyes. He stood up with the graceful strength of Death-animated muscles, and stared at her expectantly.

The vampire prisoner beside the undead shifter squirmed against his binds of Airs, his eyes bulging.

Medeia couldn’t help but smirk.

“What is your name,” she asked the undead dragon shifter.

“I am Crater,” the man replied.

Medeia glanced at Sevilla. “Mask his scent.”

Sevilla motioned with her hands and in moments the characteristic undead smell of the body vanished. It was an advanced Weave another of Aldam’s vampire witches had shared. A few weeks ago she hadn’t known such a Weave even existed, otherwise she would have used it on all of her previous creations. She wondered how many other Weaves Aldam and his witches had kept from the other covens. He was probably sitting on a treasure trove of knowledge. That was very likely the case, since when it came to the Strength, knowledge was quite literally power.

“Return to your post at the door,” Medeia told Crater. “You are not to allow anyone to pass, unless I give my permission. Reach me on band 579.” She tapped her headset.

“Understood,” Crater said. The dragon shifter opened the door and returned to his post. She didn’t have to worry about any betrayal from him. As an undead, Crater was now completely in her power.

Medeia glanced at the remaining individual, the vampire who had betrayed his own kind. “You won’t swear allegiance to me. You have already sworn to the king, otherwise you would be wearing a collar. And since a vampire can’t be made into an undead, you are useless to me.”

The vampire couldn’t answer as his mouth was bound of course. But she saw all the answer she needed in his eyes, which shone with fear.

She wondered if she should risk giving him a chance.

No. She had been betrayed so many times in the past. Show mercy to another vampire, especially one who had already given his loyalty to another, and he would interpret it as weakness. This man might pretend to follow and obey her, but he would merely be biding his time, waiting for the appropriate moment to stab her in the back.

Medeia glanced at Sevilla. “Drain him.”

Sevilla stepped forward immediately. Medeia had not placed any binds of air around the Black Guard’s neck, so Sevilla could easily penetrate with her teeth.

She drank for several moments. Medeia could tell from the way the woman stood straighter that the blood was invigorating to her, even if it was from a vampire. The Black Guard’s skin slowly turned from pale to ashen, and finally his eyes rolled up in his head and his chin bowed.

Sevilla removed her teeth.

The Black Guard’s chest heaved laboriously, meaning he yet lived.

“Drain him to the core,” Medeia said impatiently.

“He’ll die,” Sevilla said.

“That’s the point,” Medeia told her.

Sevilla hesitated. She looked at the man, and pity was written all over her face. “I… I can’t.”

Medeia crushed her bone gauntleted hand and the Black Guard imploded, leaving behind only a stream of gore and toppled bones.

“You’re weak,” Medeia said. “When we’re done with Midnight, you will be strong. I’ll see to it.” She turned toward the four vampires who had been lurking in the corner of the room. “Clean up this mess.”

Medeia used Air to compel Gabriel from the litter, and had him lead the way into the house. She stepped fastidiously around the corpse of the Black Guard, and glanced toward the entrance, where the undead dragon shifter stood hidden from view outside the front doors. A pawn on her chessboard, like the king.

A pawn, yes. And the very first member of my undead dragon army.

* * *

Gabriel could do nothing as the vampires chained him in his study. Finally the woman, who called herself Medeia, released his invisible binds, allowing him to slump to the floor.

“Heal quickly, my king,” she taunted as she walked toward the door. “I need your blood for later.”

“You’ll never get away with this,” Gabriel tried to tell her, but his voice only came out a rasp. His throat was so very dry. Hydration was very important to dragons, and he hadn’t had a drink all morning.

“What’s that, my king?” Medeia taunted.

Again he tried to speak but no words came. Instead, he coughed.

Medeia shrugged, smiling. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” She left, and the door closed with a loud thud behind her.

Gabriel collapsed. He was a king. Ruler of North America. How could he have allowed this vermin into his great city? It had been a mistake to only bring one member of his Black Guard with him to the Hooded Dale. He had been flying free in that hidden valley where the dragons could be themselves, forgetting his burdens as he soared above the mountaintops, and when he had landed, the vampire witch had captured him.

And now she was going to work through Midnight’s many residences one by one, starting with his own, converting the dragon shifters who lived there into her undead. It was every king’s nightmare scenario. Soon Midnight would no longer be a dragon den, but a vampire coven, and Medeia would rule North America.

She had kept him alive only to drain his blood and power her machinations. That, and gloat over him. She planned to make him undead eventually, he had no doubt about it. Knowing that was part of the torture.

Gabriel felt like he had betrayed Jett. He had only acquired the throne from his brother four months ago, and now Gabriel was about to lose it to an invading vampire.

Gabriel swallowed, forcing himself to take several deep breaths. He couldn’t allow himself to despair. Kings didn’t give up so easily.

What would my brother Jett do?

He had often asked himself that question during his rule. Jett was the ultimate example of a good king, and Gabriel had striven to emulate him in all that he did. If he was uncertain whether some act was just or good, he would ask himself what Jett would do in similar circumstances, and the answer would guide him.

Except this time Gabriel found himself unable to come up with an answer. This was a scenario not even Jett would have known how to handle.

Gabriel lay on the floor, his blue and silver dress shirt glued to his body from the perspiration. The thin silver band the vampire witch had collared him with dug into his neck. The collar prevented him from transforming into his dragon, but it was impossible for shifters to transform while inside Midnight anyway, so its presence was kind of redundant. Then again, it did partially restrain his dragon strength. If he was uncollared, he might have been able to break free of his shackles. Medeia couldn’t have that, could she?

He heard the door open but felt too weak to raise his head.

A large bowl thudded onto the floor in front of him.

“You should drink,” a gentle voice said.

Gabriel couldn’t help but look up. The voice belonged to the other vampire witch, who Medeia had identified as Sevilla. Kneeling there before him, she was perhaps the most beautiful vampire Gabriel had ever seen, perhaps even the most beautiful woman, period. The flawless skin of her face reminded him of the color of moonlight. Behind a pair of glasses, her eyes shone a deep, unnatural blue, like sapphires polished to the brightest luster. She wore black, form-fitting fatigues that emphasized her figure and ample bust. Thick black gloves covered her hands, just like Medeia’s, no doubt hiding the dragon bone accessories of her profession. Her hair fell to her shoulders in silky waves, and he could sense the intoxicating scent of it even here.

One might think that vampires smelled terrible, but that was the farthest thing from the truth. Certain sweat pores on the bodies of vampires produced what was essentially perfume, meant to arouse and intoxicate potential victims. It was said that Raquel, queen of Africa, had found a way to extract the scent into an actual perfume, and the sales had made her rich, paving the way for her control of that continent.

Dismissing the smell, he concentrated on her face. Some might have found the eyeglasses detracting from her beauty, making her seem a little geeky, but he liked it. And there was something else about her, something he couldn’t quite place. He felt almost as if he knew her from somewhere, but that was impossible of course.

He doused his desire, reminding himself who this woman served.

She is the enemy.

“I’m very sorry you’ve had to go through this,” Sevilla said softly. “I didn’t know what my mistress had planned. When Aldam gave me to her, I couldn’t refuse him. He has protected me all these years. His coven gave me shelter when others wouldn’t.” She sighed. “But I didn’t want to be a part of any of this.”

Gabriel tried to speak again, but his throat was too dry, and he could only produce a painful rasp. He tried to drink from the silver bowl, but that only sent him into a coughing fit. When he recovered, he attempted to swallow the liquid again, and was able to sip several times. When he felt confident enough to imbibe a larger amount without coughing, he drank. Deeply.

When finished sating his dragon thirst, he glanced at Sevilla. “She sent you here to befriend me, is that it? The two of you are putting on some sort of good cop, bad cop routine?”

She seemed stunned. “No. That’s not it at all. I’m truly concerned…”

“If you don’t want to be a part of this, then don’t be,” Gabriel said. “No one can compel you to serve her.” If Sevilla abandoned her, that would be one less vampire witch helping Medeia. Gabriel knew Sevilla would stay of course, but still he had to try.

Sevilla sighed. “I can’t. I have sworn allegiance to her. Something we vampires don’t take lightly.”

Gabriel chuckled softly. “Of course you don’t. So what then, you hope that by telling me this, you’ll clear your conscience or something? Or do you just want to taunt me, like her?”

“I tell you this not too taunt, nor for the sake of my conscience,” Sevilla said. “But for what you did for me.”

Gabriel stared at her, puzzled.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” Sevilla said. “I was your slave, a long time ago. You treated me well. Or at least, ordered your servants to do so. When my time expired, I left.”

Gabriel thought back. “I have no recollection of you.”

She seemed disappointed.

“I think I’d remember a vampire witch among my slaves,” Gabriel said. “Considering they’re not allowed in the city!”

“Of course you would have noticed if I were a witch,” Sevilla told him. “But you didn’t know. You couldn’t: prisoners of war are stripped of all dragon bone once they are captured.”

“Ah,” Gabriel said. He thought back, concentrating on her face. “Wait, I remember you now. It’s the glasses that are throwing me off. You didn’t have them then.”

“That’s right,” she said. “Go on.”

“During the Great Vampire War, that’s when I purchased you,” Gabriel said. "I remember waiting at the slave auction, when one of the most beautiful vampires I had ever seen stepped onto the stage. I decided right then and there I had to have her.” He sighed wistfully. “But I never touched her, though. Never dared. I was not one to mistreat slaves.”

She smiled sadly. “No, you never mistreated me. Sometimes I wondered if you barely noticed me at all.”

The memories came flooding back. He remembered the sheer desire he had felt for her all those years ago. An all-consuming, body-torturing desire.

How could I forget a woman like this?

And then he knew how. He recalled assigning her to tasks that kept her well away from him, because he was terrified that if she remained in his presence for too long, he would break the First Rule and mate with a non-dragon.

Looking at her now, he realized his fears were completely justified.

He found himself desiring her all over again.

Gabriel closed his eyes.

Forget this temptress. If I give in to her, it will be the downfall of Midnight.

Then again, it looked like Midnight was going to fall anyway.

No. I will find a way to save my city.

He opened his eyes and gazed at Sevilla. The sympathy in her eyes was unmistakable. He wondered if he could use her in some way. Convince her that he had feelings for her, and then betray her when the time came. It might be his only hope. And if he had to break the First Rule to earn her trust, it was worth it to save his kingdom. Not that breaking the rule with her would be very hard, at least on his part...

“Sevilla,” Gabriel said. “You have to let me go.”

“I can’t,” Sevilla said. “Just as you couldn’t let me go all those years ago when I was your slave, I can’t release you either. I have sworn allegiance, as I told you. And even if I hadn’t, my loyalties lie with my own kind. But I promise, for what it’s worth, I’ll do my best to protect you.”

“Please,” Gabriel said. “She intends to destroy Midnight. You know how many dragons will die?”

“They won’t really be dead,” Sevilla said. “We’ll bring them back to life.”

“As shadows of their former selves,” Gabriel said. “The remnants of their minds enslaved to your wills. That’s not life.”

“It’s better than the alternative,” Sevilla said.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Gabriel said.

Sevilla didn’t answer, but from the way her eyes became downcast, he felt sure that no, she did not.

“I believe you when you say you don’t want to be a part of this,” Gabriel told her. “There are good vampires in this world, and there are bad ones. You’re one of the good ones. You’ve always been.”

He didn’t know that for sure, obviously, since he had never really spoken to her in the days when she was his slave, but he felt he was a pretty good judge of character. She had tried to spare Harvester, the vampire member of his Black Guards whom Medeia had killed in cold blood afterward, and that told him everything he needed to know.

Still Sevilla remained silent.

Gabriel waited for her gaze to meet his own, but she refused to lift her eyes. Finally he said: “What if I promised you—”

Before Gabriel could finish, motion drew his eyes to the open doorway.

Medeia stepped inside. “What are you two talking about?”

Sevilla quickly stood.

“Nothing,” Sevilla said. “I was only taunting him.”

Medeia regarded Gabriel suspiciously a moment, then turned her attention to Sevilla.

“Come with me,” Medeia ordered the vampire witch. “We need to hatch a plan to convey our brethren here from the outer tunnel.” She looked at Gabriel and theatrically licked her lips. “Drink your water, sexy dragon, and enjoy your privacy while you can, because I’ll be coming back to have a talk with you later. If you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll bring you a cow to eat.”

With that the two left, shutting the door behind them.

Gabriel stared at the closed door.

I was only taunting him.

Sevilla had lied to protect him. Interesting.

Yes, seducing Sevilla might be a way out of this. He wasn’t sure he would be able to save Midnight once he broke free, but he’d certainly try his damnedest. And if the casualties along the way included a few broken hearts, well that was a price he was entirely willing to pay.

Even if one of those broken hearts was his own.