The kettle began to whistle just as I lifted it from the flame and turned off the burner.

The house was quiet, almost weary in the late afternoon with the summer's turbid heat weighing upon it. I was weary as well, especially after spending a very uncomfortable three hours in the car with Amoroth after she finished threatening my father. She'd promised me an agonizing death if I ever repeated what had happened there to anyone.

I poured the boiling water into the waiting teacup, frowning. I wouldn't tell Darius what had happened. Doing so would be idiotic, as I'd seen what happened to Saule's book and I didn't want my father to meet a similar fate. Darius would kill Dad if the Sin knew Luc was actually capable of banishing a Sin.

Did Rene teach him? Did Papé know he was living in Amoroth's city?

I was lost in thought, staring into the cup, when Darius silently stepped behind me. "Shouldn't you be resting?" he breathed into my ear.

I dropped the kettle and splattered scalding water on my bare hands.

"Dammit, Darius!" I complained as I rushed to the sink and ran cold water over my skin. "There is a door on this house, you know! Try knocking!"

He huffed as he retreated to the refrigerator, which he proceeded to open and peruse at his leisure. "I am not a guest here; I am not required to knock."

"Yeah, I'm well aware you're not a guest." I shut the water off and exhaled, chewing the inside of my cheek. "So, you're here. Does that mean—are we....?"

"Momentarily." The pallid glow of the fridge light accentuated the dust and dirt coating the Sin's front. It didn't appear the grime bothered him, as Darius simply went about sniffing and grimacing at the various foodstuffs I had stocked, leaving behind grubby fingerprints.

Momentarily. Christ, I was going to have to walk into a vampire den. My hand fluttered over the loose hem of my cardigan. It was too warm for the extra layer, but it concealed the bulk of the pistol weighing down my waistband.

"I—is there something I should know?"

"Know?" he quipped as he shut the fridge with his elbow, sounding intolerably bored. "About?"

"About the vampires," I hissed. I kneaded the tight skin at my temples as Darius settled at the table with a box of teddy bear graham crackers and a jar of mayonnaise. I was just irritated enough to not correct his questionable dinner decision.

"Oh, I simply figured what with your impeccable sleuthing abilities you would have already discovered all your answers." Darius popped a cracker in his mouth and chewed. "Or is it snooping abilities? You didn't cheat any more answers out of the witch?"

"Ha," I sighed, slumping into the chair next to him. I lowered my head so I wouldn't have to watch him eat. "You know, I've been meaning to ask...why are they called vampires? That's what they're referred to in our—my—mythology. You practically cringe when I say 'angels' or 'demons' and you even said I should only call an elf an elf at my own peril. So why aren't vampires named differently?"

"Because they're from this realm, idiot. Notice they're still called 'witches' and 'mages' as well." Darius inhaled, his breath rattling deep in his chest. "King's breath, don't use those words. Angels, elves. Disgusting."

"Speaking of disgusting...." I eyed the mayonnaise jar. "So vampires are from here? From, er, Terrestria?"

"If you mean to be technical about it, then no—and no, they're not often referred to as vampires by anyone else besides humans and witches and mages. They're considered to be Pitlings, or Nitherians."

"Then why—."

"Because they were created here, Sara." Agitated, the demon flicked a beheaded cracker in my direction. "They were created some number of centuries ago in a failed experiment, and are designated as Nitherians because their architect was a Nitherian." He stiffened. "They were made by...Sethan."

Sethan, Darius' brother. The mysterious Sin had only been brought up once in conversation before, and Darius hadn't been keen to discuss him further—most likely because his brother had been killed. "What do you mean by experiment?"

Darius said nothing for quite some time. He stared at a confectionery teddy bear pinched between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes murky and distant. "How else do you define experiment? Sethan attempted to engineer a new species of creatures capable of feeding upon a soul's mana. He used humans as a base and his own blood as the mutagen. In and of itself, our blood is nothing remarkable—but when an influx of our power is channeled through it, the blood becomes tainted. Sethan endeavored to create a form of lesser Sin, one directly under his influence and subservient to those of his blood." The teddy bear was reduced to a fine powder of sugary chunks when Darius squeezed his fingers closed. "In short, he sought to form a contingent of soul-sucking lackeys capable of harvesting a vast amount of sustenance for his consumption."

Yikes. Perhaps it was a good thing Darius' brother was no longer alive. "You mentioned something about this being a failed experiment?"

"Obviously. Vampires do not suck souls; they suck blood." Darius snorted as he screwed the lid back onto the jar of mayo. "Something went awry in their mutation. They are...incomplete. Sethan was never quite sure what happened, and I told him it was probably because of inferiority in his base materials—but that is beside the point. The only beings capable of directly feeding upon a soul are the Sins and the Liches. While vampires crave the immaterial substance of mana, they cannot take it into themselves. The closest they can come is blood, which holds faint traces of mana within it." Darius crossed his arms as his brow lowered. "Vile creatures. They always hunger and, in time, can be driven mad by their gluttony. Sethan should have properly discarded them—and yet he failed in that as well. He tossed his broken subjects aside and gave no thought to the possibility of his engineered nightmare spreading."

"So are they...undead?" I picked up the box of crackers and returned it to the cupboard.

"No, though the legends propagated by your kind do hold some measure of truth in them. Tainted as they are with something not of this realm, vampires have a strong aversion to Terrestria's natural elements—things such as running water, fire, unprocessed metal, untreated wood, silver. They by no means burst into flames when exposed to sunlight, but they are...allergic to it. Nitherians—Pitlings, the Sins—were born in the dark, and something of our blood reflects that umbra.

"Newly afflicted humans will often lose their heartbeat or pulse as their body succumbs to the demonic taint. In a bygone age, fledgling vampires would be buried alive and have to dig their way out of their own graves." Darius smirked, hands twitching. "It was much easier to kill them then. I only had to wait for them to nearly claw their way to freedom, then crack their necks with my foot."

"Ugh!" My hand rubbed my exposed neck as the hair there prickled with dread, and I stared at closed cupboard as I tried to regain my composure. "Should I be worried about being bitten?"

Darius was abruptly behind me, his heat leaning into my back, and I fought the urge to yell when his fingers danced across my raised arm in a light, taunting caress. "No. That's not how the affliction is spread. Don't be afraid of the big, bad vampires," the Sin quietly seethed in my ear, his breath spilling over my skin in a wave of scorching heat. I paled with fear as my heart raced. "They won't hurt you...because after we find the one we're searching for, I'm going to annihilate the rest."

The Sin retreated and I slowly turned, curling my shivering hands into fists. Darius waited across the room, his sunglasses in place and his leather jacket partially zipped closed. "Let's go."

The Verweald projects were located in the south-east extremities of the city, not too far from the dusty lot Amoroth and I had waited for Darius in. At some previous point in Verweald's history, the projects were a collection of hastily built and affordable domiciles for the office workers flooding the city in droves—but, in time, the high-rises rose into the skyline and isolated communities of domestic bliss like Evergreen Acres were built. Families left the domiciles for their own slice of modern suburbia, and the upper echelon of contracted workers moved into the trendier apartments nearer the industrial district. The projects fell into a slow decline. Buildings were abandoned. Disreputable sorts moved in.

After hearing Darius gripe about the "filthy" vampires for the entirety of the twenty-minute car ride, I wasn't surprised when we drove into the projects' ruins.

"I'm guessing vampires don't drive shiny cars and dress like models," I said as Darius drove by gutted apartment complexes and burnt-out shops.

The Sin sucked air through his teeth, tutting under his breath. "No. Their blood addiction is often as crippling as the addiction imposed by your nastier narcotics—and aside from slightly heightened speed and strength, the vampires have no talents or magic of their own. They cannot easily blend with human society as witches, mages, or I can, though a few have been known to make the effort. They form dens around a singular den mother or father in a bid to survive, and they haven't the knowhow nor wherewithal to acquire shiny cars." He suddenly flicked my arm—which proved more painful than a normal flick should be. I scowled. "This is reality, girl, not a melodrama."

Rubbing the forming bruise, I didn't reply, and instead concentrated on our surroundings as the Sin directed the car through more depressed lanes and byways. The sun bowed beneath the roofline as we drove, casting the desolate streets in shadow, hues of amber and bronze burnishing the asphalt and building faces. What few people remained outside kept to their doorways or secluded alcoves, hidden from the road.

Darius parked the car on the side of a neglected thoroughfare, and on his prompting, we both got out of the vehicle to stand upon the chipped sidewalk. A broad-fronted, two-story duplex crafted in an ugly industrial style waited on our left. There was no yard, only the aforementioned sidewalk and a concrete stoop littered with antiquated newspapers. I could hear the muted strains of Bauhaus crooning inside.

"How tragically ironic," I snorted as I eyed the entrance. It was innocuous enough, though an indecipherable odor had me on edge. "What do we do, knock?"

Darius shrugged as he approached the tired stoop. Glass from a broken porch light crunched beneath his shoes. "Something like that."

"What do you—?"

The Sin kicked in the door. He took me by the collar and shoved me inside.

The interior of the duplex was even drearier than the exterior; fist-sized holes pockmarked the walls, the structure's rotting skeleton visible inside like ribs through a person's shirt. Graffiti and grime created a macabre mosaic on what remained of the drywall, and though many of the windows had been busted out, mismatched bits of plywood rafters probably torn from the attic boarded them up. The smell of animal and unwashed bodies was so pungent I had to cover my nose with my sleeve.

Garbage strewn on what remained of the tiled floor created a trail through the dark. By the multitude of fast-food wrappers, vampires apparently subsided on more than just blood. The creatures themselves lingered in the deepest shadows, sitting in stolen lawn chairs or on the ground.

After Darius pushed me through the door, I found myself standing in a slim square of watery sunlight with more than a dozen glittering pairs of eyes staring at me. Dread went through me like a lance to the heart as I met those eerie, hungry looks, their eyes gleaming like an animal's at night. Black veins marbled their brows and temples, and their skin—regardless of its base tone—was washed out and ashen from a lack of sunlight. All of them were emaciated and wasting away, their teeth jagged and prominent, defined by two elongated canines and enlarged bicuspids that gave the vampires the appearance of lampreys scrounged from the ocean's depths.

Frozen, I stood in the midst of the room like a deer pinned by oncoming headlights.

Darius loomed in the doorway. His shadow fell across my body in a gossamer mantle that grew and merged with the shadows of the building, and his insidious chill stalked the room in steady, sinuous increments. The frost nipped at my skin and blurred my breath. The Sin tossed a lazy hand in the direction of the outdated boom box, and a swell of his energy struck it, effectively short-circuiting the wiring and plunging the room into utter silence.

"Now," the Sin of Pride said as he stepped up behind me. "Which one of you vermin recognizes this woman?"

The vampires didn't reply immediately, stunned by our unexpected entrance. "What—?!" One of their number rose as he shoved a scrawny woman from his lap. This vampire was larger than many of his fellows, his teeth yellowed by tobacco and decay. "Who are you?!"

"Are you volunteering?" Darius' hand lingered at the base of my neck. The heated touch was foreign, but unusually grounding. "I asked which one of you recognizes this woman."

The vampire who had spoken sneered and flexed his corded arms. "Oh, you have no idea of your mistake, buddy." Several of the others stood as well, bending their knees as if ready to pounce. My heart beat an ugly, staccato rhythm into my sternum.

Darius gathered his breath, and the inhale set off a low rattle deep in his chest. That rattle was familiar, but I could not quite recall where I had heard it before. The cold grew unbearable.

"Tell me what I want to know."

Someone threw an empty bottle. It shattered by Darius' feet. "We aren't telling you a thing, man."

"Are none of you familiar with her?"

"I'd love to get familiar with her, if you know what I mean. What's up, man? You offering?" another fanged monster jeered. The other vampires crowed with laughter and became bolder, creeping closer to the extremity of the light. I backed up until I bumped into Darius.

As the vampires and the Sin continued to exchange barbs, I searched the room for anything remarkable—anything that would stir my memory. What was Darius thinking? This plan was asinine. Did he truly expect the vampire complicit in the cult's dealings to step forward? Darius' ideas sucked.

One of the spindly creatures extended his reach and wrapped his bony fingers around my wrist. I yelped—and suddenly that vampire no longer had an arm. He screamed as he crumpled to floor, clutching the ragged stump now protruding from his broken elbow. The others pressed themselves to the walls, their swift retreat marked by the absence of laughter and the quick scrape of shoes on the concrete. Flecks of burning liquid cooled against my skin and marred my cardigan in a gruesome line.

Darius' right hand was still perched on my neck. In his left hand, he held the vampire's missing arm. The fingers twitched.

This Sin tossed the arm aside. "No touching."

As the vampire on the floor continued to howl and beg for help, my widened eyes searched the room, frantic. They were growing agitated. Darius' impressive strength and spine-chilling demeanor kept the creatures from attacking—but their hesitation wouldn't last.

Movement from the base of the dilapidated stairs drew my gaze. The man frozen in mid-step was undoubtedly a vampire. His skin was shockingly white in color, more so than most of the others, his clothing ragged and soiled by greasy, faded bloodstains. His chipped fangs were visible through his open mouth, and we stared at one another in a moment of unified distraction.

The leg of an inked, serpentine critter was bold as inverted neon against the pallid canvas of his scarred wrist.

Before I could say a word to Darius, the Sin rounded on the aghast monster, his sanguine eyes focused with alarming intensity. His breath continued to rattle and the chill seeped through my bones. The sunlight weakened, growing distant as Darius seemed to gain height in the tremulous dance of the shifting shadows. His bare hand against my flesh burned, and the vampires collectively withdrew from the demon's oppressive presence as if they crossed paths with the Devil himself.

An older woman crouched by a cooler of pilfered blood bags hissed. "Pride...."

The tattooed vampire bolted toward the rear of the building. Darius must have anticipated this, as he leaped forward just as the creature began to move. The Sin's hand fisted in my collar as he propelled us forward into the airless heat of the Realm. The pressure doubled faster than it had when Amoroth had tried to drag me into the waiting otherworld; a bulldozer of force blindsided us, and the Realm flung us out so violently, Darius struck a wall and it cracked down the middle. Debris rained from the exposed rafters supporting the upper floor.

"By the Pit!" Darius swore, dazed by the impact, clutching the fresh split in his scalp. My own skull had been spared injury, cushioned as it was by Darius' body. I was winded, though, and my wound was on fire. I smelt ash and copper.

Somehow, we were now between the inked vampire and the door-less portal to the narrow, sunless alleyway behind the duplex. The vampire came skidding to a halt with his jagged teeth visible in his furious grimace. He wheeled about and ran for the stairs.

Breathless, I threw my arm in that direction as I fought for breath. Cursing, the Sin hooked my arm around his neck and hoisted me up like an ungainly backpack. The others weren't content to remain idle; two of the bolder vampires dashed forward as Darius began to chase their tattooed brother, and the first collided with the Sin's fist, collapsing. The second dodged the Sin's reaching hand and, correctly suspecting I was the weaker target, raked his twisted nails along my arm. Grunting, I turned to bury my face in Darius' smoky hair to avoid having my eyes gouged out.

I didn't see how that vampire died. I only heard the crunch of his bones grinding together and the distorted gargle of his final cry.

The stairs went by in a blur of rugged wood and chipped plaster. Vampires howled up the stairwell, the whole building shaking as our pursuers gave chase. I didn't see our target in the smothering, unlit darkness that dominated the floor—but I did hear glass shatter, and Darius jerked into motion. His bloodied hands pinned my arms to his chest.

"Hold on," he snapped. From his back, I fought the urge to retort "Easier said than done." If Darius had been a normal man, his body would have yielded to the weight of a grown woman draped over his shoulders—but Darius wasn't a normal man and his body didn't yield to my presence. His every step jarred me terribly, and the hard angles of his bones cut into my arms and twice his elbow collided with my side with enough force to bloom stars in my vision. I imagined holding onto a pissed off bull would be easier.

Darius rounded a corner. Indirect light from the gloaming hour glittered on the shards of glass, the Sin didn't slow down as he flew toward the broken window the vampire had escaped through. My fingers twisted into his shirt as I yelled.

"Darius—!"

He ignored my panicked cry, though his grip was tight enough to break iron. Darius leaped through the window, clearing the sill with ease. I banged my knee on the ledge and winced when stray bits of glass scraped my bare skin. We fell through the air, and as the ground reached up to meet us, the sky red and the street black in the shadows, I shut my eyes and prepared myself for impact.