Uriah Izzo had been a part of Napoleon’s coven for nearly two hundred years, and his job was in research and development. He was an expert in addictive medication, and sequestered in his laboratory, he came up with narcotics that the masses could not do without. They’d get their rushes and their highs, and have a grand old time, and then they’d crave for more because Dr. Izzo made sure of that.

As far as Napoleon was concerned, the members of his coven were there to do their jobs. He never congratulated anyone on anything, and even though Izzo’s drugs had made Napoleon millions, they’d never had a face-to-face meeting until now. That didn’t mean, however, that Izzo wasn’t aware of Napoleon’s pompous ways. There’d been enough scuttlebutt through the years to know the man had an ego larger than any of his homes, and a fuse shorter than the whiskers on his face.

“We are planning to attend, sir,” Izzo said, excitement in his tone. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world, but the reason I called for you—”

“No one calls for me.”

“Um…I’m sorry. I misspoke,” Izzo said, remembering his place or the lack thereof. “Please forgive me.”

Napoleon crossed his arms across his chest. “Just get on with it, man. Why in the hell am I standing in a room smelling of disinfectant when I could be inhaling a few of my boy toys?”

“It’s about the rubble Friedrich sent to me relating to Bennett Archer.”

“Rubble?”

“Yes, sir. The wood and metal rods that—”

“I know what rubble means, you idiot, and I also know Ivan told you not to bother with it,” Napoleon said, leaning in. “Or don’t you think you need to follow my orders?”

“No, sir. Of course not. I always follow your orders, but we’ve never had a sample of her blood before.”

“What are you talking about? Simeon and I gathered samples eons ago.”

“Yes, sir, but I was told that once they discovered what you…what you and Mr. Volkov had done, everything was destroyed.”

“And what if it was? We already proved that there’s nothing in her blood that enables us to turn into daywalkers.”

“But in this day and age, blood can tell us other things.” Izzo picked up a folder from the counter, and opening it, he moved to stand alongside Napoleon. “This is an image of Miss Archer’s genetic analysis showing her DNA markers, and this one on the end has only recently been identified.”

“Of course, it’s only recently been identified, you dolt,” Napoleon’s face growing redder by the minute. “You only got the samples a week ago.”