„Damn it," Myreille hissed, her eyes darting around frantically. It would be impossible for Zane to get past the exits in a few minutes because they were swarming with guards. If anything was sure, it was that trolls were hard to get past. And Myreille doubted that her jewelry would be enough to pay the necessary 'toll.' 

Her thoughts were racing. Her gaze glided over strange and familiar faces. Could she use connections? No, that would be too risky. Zane was worth too much and...

"Mademoiselle Myreille, where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you..."

Oh no.

Myreille's head flew around this time and got stuck on ... Casimir. The vampire's eyes widened as he recognized the Cait-Sith behind her.

At that moment, time seemed to stand still. All around them, people walked more slowly; the clinking of glasses and the music drifted into the background.

Myra's thoughts were racing, her fingers twitching.

'No... Damn everyone but him!'

Silver-white snowy landscapes, framed by black darkness, stared back at the vampire spawn. Casimir stared back, and she could see his muscles tense. Beneath her hand, still holding Zane to the wall, she could feel hard, war-steeled muscles tensing - ready to transform and leap at a throat.

It was as if she was watching sparks fly on gunpowder, waiting for the moment they would ignite and escalate the situation.

Like a lightning bolt, Zane shot forward, grabbed Casimir by the collar, and slammed him against the wall. She heard the back of the blonde's head thud against the light-colored brickwork, and the vampire grimaced but quickly recovered. He opened his mouth, but large fingers gripped the wriggling offspring's throat so tightly that only a gasp escaped. He stared wide-eyed at his mistress, who made no move to come to his aid.

„I'm sorry, Casimir... but you're just in the wrong place at the wrong time," the bloodhunter's voice hummed instead, as cold as a winter's morning, far from any warmth.

„Please," the vampire croaked, his claws grasping the Cait-Sith's arms, desperately trying to prise them from his throat. All Zane had to do was grab it once, and his neck would snap as quickly as a rotten branch. Even the accelerated healing wouldn't be able to help the vampire then. He was young and weak. There was no comparison to the old ones, who were much harder to kill. Casimir knew that, too.

„Please," he repeated, panting, and Myreille gave Zane a sidelong glance. She wouldn't stop him if he wanted to kill Casimir. Instead, her watchful gaze slid around and met one of the servants flitting through the ranks like ghosts.

A heartbeat, maybe two, passed. He stared, his mouth open, though no sound left his lips.

Myreille pursed her lips, showing her long fangs and raised her hand as if in silent signalling. The servant's gaze fell on her fingers ... on the silver lustre on them and the ring she was wearing - then the sole witness hurriedly turned his gaze away and quickly departed. Sometimes, being at the service of the most bloodthirsty and dangerous forces in this depraved city had its advantages. Myreille lowered the Blood Lord's signet ring with her hand and was already peering past the pillars toward one of the exits...

„I-I can help you!" it rasped behind her, and she paused. Slowly, her attention slid back to Casimir.

Zane's long claws were already digging into his neck, piercing the skin, and dark, blackish blood seeped from the incisions as skin and flesh reddened under the pressure of the powerful fingers. Casimir rattled more violently, scratching and baring his teeth. His eyes were already twisting and rolling back...

„Wait," Myreille whispered, meeting Zane's skeptical gaze. The Cait-Sith bared his teeth and growled, „You're not serious!".

But Myreille's gaze was sharp and clear as she grabbed Zane's forearm, emphasizing her demand with light but firm pressure.

With a low, guttural sound of displeasure, the warrior's fingers disengaged from Caismir's throat, just enough to make the vampire gasp and his eyelids flutter.

„What makes you think YOU can help us?" Myreille hissed icily.

„I know of a tunnel!" the vampire squeezed out hoarsely. „A secret escape tunnel through which you can escape! No one would follow you!"

„Oh yeah?" Myreille narrowed her eyes suspiciously. „And how would you, of all people, know of such a secret tunnel?"

Was he trying to play her for a fool? Myreille didn't trust this rat. Where had this sudden change of heart come from?

Casimir pursed his lips, his long fingers clawing at the Cait-Sith's arm, who, even in his weakened state, could still hold him to the wall with one hand.

„When I was still..." Casimir began, swallowing hard, „When I was a soldier, the command staff discussed attacking the Palais to deal a heavy blow to the morale of our hereditary enemy. I had the opportunity to take a look at the plans... There was talk of blowing up the tunnel as a precaution so that no one could escape."

„You're talking about the Second World War... The German war against us before the First Cycle," Myreille muttered, knowing full well that Zane, like most otherworlders, had little idea of human enmities.

Casimir nodded - or tried to, as far as he could.

„The attack was no longer necessary because we were able to take Paris in just six days... that's why the tunnel still exists," Casimir murmured, his eyes flickering back and forth between Myreille and Zane.

Myreille felt Zane's gaze rest on her as well. It was understandable because he didn't know if the scion was telling the truth. On the other hand, she had been here before the tear in the veil to Thule and knew the feuds of the humans...

The vampiress curled her lips and clicked her tongue. As much as she disliked it...

„It's possible," she admitted.

„I'll show you the tunnel," Casimir promised. And now that the rat sensed the morning air, the dark eyes flashed more courageously again. „I won't betray you. I'll even cover for you!" he offered generously.

Myreille and Zane smelled the poison under the honey even before he continued:

„If you help me become a blood hunter! Please put in a good word for me with the master. One hand washes the other ... Together, we can achieve a lot ..."

„One hand washes the other, eh?" Myreille repeated, but she didn't sound convinced. She didn't want Casimir to feel she was in his hands.

„Why should we trust him?" Zane's icy gaze fastened on the young brood. „Give me one really good reason to spare your life ... you've been sticking to me like shit for far too long..." Each word became increasingly a growl, leaving no doubt that Zane craved his life.

„The dagger...!"

The temperature seemed to plummet, like an icicle in free fall.

„What?" the irritated Cait-Sith rumbled, his fingers closing tighter around Casimir's throat again. The ice-blue cat's eyes were streaked with amber-colored spots. Myreille could literally feel that the cat was on the verge of losing control.

Casimir's eyes were as big as saucers as he turned them almost pleadingly towards Myreille. He should know better. There was a better chance that the Cait-Sith would show him more mercy than she would.

„The ritual dagger," he croaked again, his eyes flickering from Myreille to the Cait-Sith and back again. „I know where it is, and I can get it! You've been looking for it, haven't you? You two..."

She and Zane exchanged a glance.

Then Myreille curled her lips, and Zane lowered the bastard so he could get back on his feet.

„All right, then. You lead us to the tunnel and get us the dagger. Then, not only do you get to live, but I'll help you get an opportunity to meet the master. The rest is in your own hands; that's where my generosity ends."

She had clearly made too many deals today. She almost felt more like a Fae than a Strigoi.

„I knew we'd come to an agreement!" Casimir's face brightened, and, coughing, he rubbed his neck, where the red welts and claw marks were still visible. Witnesses to the fact that he had only just escaped death. Then he brushed the blond strands back into his greasy hairstyle and tugged at his suit before leaning forward behind one of the pillars to scout the situation.

„Follow me. Inconspicuously."

Myreille stifled a groan and was sure Zane felt the same way. Getting involved in a barter with Casimir tasted about as much to her as drinking the blood of a dead man: it was disgusting and nauseating.

„Do you really think this is a good idea?" the cat whispered to her as they walked behind the vampire scion towards one of the stairs leading down.

„No," Myreille replied truthfully. „But I'm afraid we have no other choice."