I was sitting in the Clanhall, just beneath Nicholas Boily's office. A minute ago, he'd dismissed Robert's last chum and summoned Simon for questioning. An hour earlier, we'd unloaded the leech's body at the alchemical lab and received a phone order to report here.

It seemed they'd saved me for dessert, or perhaps there was another reason.

The Clanhall staff were moving exclusively at a run today and avoided lingering in the corridors, so the steady clack of heels on the parquet floor drew my attention.

My uncle and Bryan McLilly appeared in the otherwise empty hallway. Bryce was dressed to the nines in a blue pinstripe three-piece with a tie as red as arterial blood. His hair was slicked, and he reeked of expensive cologne. Any beast with a decent nose would have caught wind of him a mile off.

McLilly was slightly less presentable. His grey suit had likely cost no less than my uncle's, but it turned fewer heads.

"Been hunting the press?" I asked.

"Only the ones from City Hall," my uncle nodded, taking the seat next to me. "Put on a little show with Pike."

Sir Jonathan Pike had been Lord-Lieutenant of Bremshire for seventeen years now, largely thanks to clan backing. He was duty-bound to speak on our side, whether he liked it or not. He wasn't de Camp, who could argue circles round the Duke of Farnell when it came to authority. Still, the old politician had no doubt twisted it all to his advantage.

"Did you manage to hush up the deaths?" I asked.

"The deaths were down to werewolves," said McLilly as he plopped into the next chair. "And we delivered — 'Without a doubt, a brilliant operation eliminating the threat hanging over our noble Avoc and the county at large. Thanks to the combined efforts of city authorities, the special police division, and Bremor clan fighters, hundreds, if not thousands, of lives were saved.'"

"Was the special division even involved?" I asked again.

"At least half of it!" Bryan assured me, though he seemed to mean the half made up of clan folk. Then McLilly attempted to carry on with a parody of Pike:

"We are deeply saddened by the departed, and I, as Lord-Lieutenant…" He quickly lost both tone and rhythm, gave up, and summarised in his own words: "The families of the victims and those injured will be compensated by the city and the clan. We're also sharing repair costs. They're putting in twenty percent, we're putting in eighty. Those numbers weren't given to the press."

"Pike must've got something," said my uncle, "something to reaffirm his authority over us."

"Pfft," McLilly snorted. "He's got no authority over the clan!"

"He knows that. But formally, the King and the people have entrusted him with power over Bremshire. Power which we completely ignored yesterday."

"Formally!" McLilly repeated. "In practice, we shoved him into that position."

"I think you're starting to forget yourself, lad," my uncle said sharply. "Already think you're above a mere Lord-Lieutenant?"

McLilly looked abashed.

"No, but he ought to understand what he owes the clan. He's got a massive debt to us."

One of the office doors opened, and a clerk with a teapot poked his head out. He spotted the clan head, froze, but got a nod of permission and quickly scurried off towards the toilets at the end of the corridor.

My uncle resumed in a quiet but firm tone.

"To all of us! Now divide that massive debt between all the clan's members and see how much of it's owed to you specifically. How much does the Lord-Lieutenant owe a boy with an inflated opinion of himself, eh? You didn't put him in office. It's not your debt to call in."

The clerk darted back past with the teapot.

Sometimes I don't understand Bryce. His last words resonate with me, sensible, even somewhat noble. But you couldn't say the same about the way he crudely used Robert Feron and his parents. Yes, he'd spun things to his advantage in the end, gained even more influence, but it hadn't come from that deception. The warning about the attack had come from the werewolf, and the use of the Ferons had been a losing move on all counts.

Once he was sure McLilly had taken the lesson to heart, my uncle turned to me, but at that very moment, the office doors opened, letting Simon out. Nick followed right behind, about to call me in, but stopped when he saw the company gathered. He frowned.

The baronet, however, seized the opportunity and spoke up.

"Lord Bremor, I believe I was hasty with the displacement technique. Perhaps we could swap it for something simpler? A thunder seal, maybe, or a basic shock?"

"I told you it was a difficult move…" my uncle began, but I cut him off.

"He's already mastered it."

"Really?" Bryce's eyebrows did a quick hop of surprise. "Then our agreement is fully settled, young man."

"Why'd you have to go and say that?" Simon muttered.

"Do also bear in mind, my lord," I said to my uncle, "that Sir Simon attempted to deceive you. I don't believe a man like that deserves trust in the future."

"Duncan! It was just a joke, my lord!"

My uncle rose from his chair and adjusted his jacket.

"It didn't seem that way to me, young man."

"I only..."

My uncle raised a hand to cut Kettle off.

"I'm a little busy at the moment, Sir Kettle. We'll have time to talk later. No need to wait for Duncan, he'll be a while. I'm sure you'll find something to occupy yourself with."

"Home," I ordered, before Simon could think up any distractions. "And no wandering. You've wandered enough already. Who knows what might've happened if I hadn't come looking for you!"

"I imagine," said Simon, "the vampire would've passed me by. All the best, Lord Bremor, McLilly, Mister Boily."

Simon walked off. Bryce didn't let me throw a few final remarks after him, instead, he pointed silently toward the office.

Nicholas wasn't one for luxury. His office held only what was strictly necessary for work: a plain desk, two sturdy filing cabinets, a bookshelf, and a tall safe. The chairs were intentionally uncomfortable, but there were enough for everyone.

My uncle was first to sit, taking the seat by the window, and the first to speak.

"He really mastered the displacement trick?"

"That's how he caught the vampire," I said, sitting opposite Boily's desk. Our host took his place, and McLilly planted himself on the edge of the chief's desk.

"Remarkable talent!" Bryce said, impressed. "You've got a knack for making interesting friends, Duncan."

"If only you knew how much trouble he's caused me."

"As if you cause any less!"

"If you're talking about that nonsense with the vampire passing him by if I hadn't interfered, come off it. That creature was there wearing my face."

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"Even so, we owe the lad," my uncle said. "Who've we got that's good with lightning tricks?" he asked Nicholas. "Preferably something basic, and someone not already tied up."

Nicholas frowned.

"Plenty of people. But everyone under my command's busy! Put your own minion to work," he said, pointing at Bryan.

"Oi!" Bryan protested.

"New nickname, McLilly," Nicholas grinned. "Only came in today."

"Who came up with that?"

"No idea," Nicholas said, putting on an innocent face. No one believed him.

"Bryan's occupied," said my uncle. "If you don't want to find someone yourself, delegate. I want the boy to have a tutor by morning. Now, bring me up to speed. What happened on the hill, in detail."

"I haven't asked Duncan yet," Nicholas said.

My uncle gave a nod, and I launched into the story, focusing less on how we grilled sausages and more on the fight.

"Now this is interesting," Nicholas said once I'd finished. "Everyone agrees you spotted the vampire first, but you didn't turn around. Amulet? Spell? What did you use?"

My uncle backed him up. "This isn't the first time, Duncan."

"Have you told each other all your little tricks?" I replied, answering a question with a question. Once I'm in Farnell, I'll talk to Harry. If he can make rear-view amulets, we'll get a supply going for the clan. Until then, it stays my secret.

My uncle wasn't happy with the answer, but he didn't press. Instead, he moved on.

"What about the amulet the vampire used?"

Nicholas opened a drawer and placed a sphere of black quartz and aquamarine, set in silver casing, on the table.

"That's my trophy," I reminded them.

"Taken in our forest," Nicholas dismissed my claim.

"Taken by me. And I'm perfectly happy to pay the tax."

My uncle didn't get involved in the argument. He simply beckoned with a finger, and Nicholas tossed him the orb. For a minute or two, Bryce turned the amulet over in his hand, then activated it. The room darkened immediately.

"How very curious," Bryce murmured, tilting his head left and right. Then his eyes began to glow with the green of blood.

"Useful little thing," Nicholas added. His eyes were closed, but his head was turned precisely toward Bryce.

I looked closer at the subtle layers of energy, and to my surprise, I noticed that our Head of Security had his third eye open! I couldn't resist a comment.

"No way! Did you open it yourself, or is that the result of an old injury?"

Nicholas instantly closed the energy node, opened his eyes, and made a displeased face. There wasn't a trace of the third eye left in his aura.

"Oh, come on!" I repeated. This warlock hid his true abilities as well as Harry or James. Wouldn't be shocked if Bryce wasn't far ahead of him in terms of power.

"Stop parroting," Nicholas snapped.

"What's going on?" Bryan asked, glancing from Nicholas to me.

"Can you see us too?" Boily asked him.

"I can see you… but your faces…"

"Blurred features?" I offered. "That's what it was like with the bloodsucker."

"No," McLilly said, surprised. "They're in shadow. Not just the faces, hands too… Stand up, walk a bit."

I complied, curious.

"Anything that moves," Bryan said, watching, "slips into shadow. And it's not illusion, I can ignore those."

"It's compulsion," I said. "For me it was the room that went shadowy. The amulet's dual-layered: the blood distorts perception, the mist creates the illusion."

"Useful thing to have," Nick said. "We need one of these."

"That's my trophy!" I objected. "Be glad I'm not claiming the other one, the one that changed its face."

"As if I don't know why you're not after that one," Nicholas said. "It was next to the protection charm when that one blew. Hardly anything left of it."

"Duncan," my uncle said, deactivating the amulet, "can Harry take it apart and recreate it?"

"If Harry can't, I don't know who could."

My uncle tossed the sphere to me.

"Keep it for now. But once you're in Farnell, hand it over to Harry for dismantling. He'll discuss payment with Gregor. Shame we couldn't take the vampire alive, but maybe we can salvage something from the body."

"The lads are on it," said Nicholas.

My uncle stood up.

"See you this evening, gentlemen. Everyone's expected at the general assembly."

I headed home too, just to have another bout of rage. Simon was absent, but before I set off to look for him, I noticed a note pinned to the doorframe.

"At Sally's."

Well, at least he wasn't at the pub. I headed to my cousin place, meaning to give Simon a proper earful, but instead of a bottle, he had a baby in his arms. You can't exactly shout at a man cooing over a child. Besides, the girls got hold of me and made me retell the story they'd already heard from Simon. Apparently, they enjoyed playing spot-the-difference, and Simon, as usual, had embellished things quite a bit, both his heroics and mine.

In the end, the baronet shut me up by handing me a beer. I didn't refuse, though I muttered:

"You're a bad influence."

"I'm trying to turn you into a proper man. Appreciate the effort." He tugged me out into the back yard and activated a silence amulet.

"What's that for?"

"So Goat doesn't eavesdrop."

"She's a deer."

"I know. And she's also a young, attractive woman. And you're, as far as I know, into women. I used to have my doubts..."

I was offended, and couldn't help swearing.

"You're out of your bloody mind!"

"Your painfully delicate manners and upper-class snobbery confused me," Simon said innocently. "But then I saw your ex..." He made a hand gesture to indicate a large bust, then gave a thumbs up. "Or maybe that's what's holding you back. Ellie's got small boobs, yeah?"

"They're perfectly fine! What the hell? I'm off."

I turned and made for the house, but Simon held me back.

"Why're you stringing the girl along?"

"I'm not!"

"Then let her know you're not interested."

"Stay out of it!"

"Maybe I fancy her. Maybe I'm planning to make a move."

My fists and jaw clenched instinctively. For all his bad habits and crude talk, the end result that was Baronet Kettle somehow appealed to women. Ellie was a lady, of course — but under pressure, and with this rogue's experience, she might not stand a chance. And it wouldn't make her happy, that's for sure.

"Stay away from her..." I started, but caught the smug grin spreading across his face.

"I love winding you up," Simon grinned. "And you've earned it, with your pompous attitude. Go on, say I'm wrong, and you've got no feelings for her."

I didn't say anything.

Damn him, he was right.

"Make a move!" Simon insisted. "Now's the perfect time, especially after that big fight with the werewolf."

"She's in shock. She's got a scar on her side. Possibly internal injuries. You think that's the right time to flirt?"

"Exactly! While she's in no state to run!" He said it seriously, but couldn't keep a straight face and burst out laughing.

So did I. "Oh, piss off, Casanova."

"I'm quite the catch, I'll have you know. Women adore me."

"Especially Finella."

"Finella adores me! But like a little girl, she's scared to show it, so she hits me instead."

"You're insane."

"Maybe. But I'm still a catch. Think about what I said. The sooner you storm the castle, the sooner you plant your flag."

Wait a minute, am I the one with a dirty mind, or did he actually just say what I think he said? Crude as hell... but annoyingly sound advice. If I keep playing the gentleman, someone else will plant their flag on the fortress.

But where to start?

With Betty, it all just happened. Well, I was a bit tipsy, and she...

Dancing and punch!

I had my sights set and was waiting for the right moment, torn up inside by impatience. No doubt seasoned "hunters" wouldn't act this way, but I was neither seasoned nor calm. I spent the whole day on edge, right up until my thoughts switched to the general assembly.

There were so many eager to attend that the barn couldn't hold them all. The gathering was moved to the clearing near the chapel.

My uncle gave a brief speech and handed the floor to Nicholas Boily, who promptly began praising Bryce's brilliance , cloaked, of course, in dry facts. Said facts included commendations for some fighters for their professionalism, and public rebukes for others.

I got a bit of both.

At least this time, my uncle didn't sugar-coat it. He admitted plainly that he'd deliberately tried to keep me out of the action, but fate intervened, and I ended up where I did, doing what I did, which apparently warranted a good thrashing.

My friends, however, now they were worthy of special thanks, respect, and all the usual fanfare, for throwing themselves into the fight after me, the reckless one. Still, no matter how Nicholas and my uncle spun the facts, I came out looking pretty good, especially since they brought me up again in connection with the vampire kill.

Sean Feron got a mention too. Nicholas described his feats with the same dry tone he'd used for mine. No one was surprised the warlock had performed so well, but surprise came when my uncle took the floor again and proposed reinstating him to the council. That stirred up quite a storm...

Everyone knew about their history.

I'm sure they'd all discussed, more than once, how relieved Bryce must've been to be rid of the royal pain in the arse that was Feron.

Honestly, I had no idea what this stunt was supposed to mean. And clearly, neither did Feron, he looked genuinely taken aback by the attention, and even tried to decline, out of modesty or perhaps sense. Or maybe he just didn't fancy a standoff with his still-lawful wife. Alexandra made herself heard in spectacular fashion, breaking through the crowd and landing slap after slap across his face, all the while spitting out a stream of insults.

"Scum. Traitor. Pervert."

Those were the polite ones.

Most of it involved his family tree and unspeakable acts with animals. This time, though, the council didn't back the hysteric. Despite Feron's own objections, he was reinstated. And then Alexandra blurted out something she absolutely shouldn't have.

"You'll pay for this, you bastard! I'll get my revenge for you betraying me and our son! I'll destroy that little whore you traded us for!"

Sean lost it. His hand shot to Alexandra's throat, pinning her and forcing her to her knees.

"Enough, woman! Haven't you understood by now? I didn't replace you — I ran. I ran because you were driving me mad with your vengeance and hatred. I pitied you. But if one hair on Sharon's head..!"

Alexandra let out a hoarse laugh, what breath she could still manage rasping in her throat beneath his grip.

"Oh really? And what exactly will you do to scare me?"

Dear gods… What had happened to these two? They used to love each other.

And then their son disappeared, not without my involvement.

"Enough!" Bryce commanded. "End this disgrace!" He stepped over to Sean, grabbed his arm, and forced it open.

Alexandra collapsed from his grasp, gasping for air.

"My rotting knight in rusty armour," she spat at Bryce with her usual venom. "What was this little show for, hmm? To display the noble generosity of House Kinkaid? Or just to shame our family once and for all?"

But Sean still lived rent-free in her twisted mind, so she pivoted back to him.

"You idiot. You shame the memory of our son!"

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