I took down the barrier again this morning. After a lot of convincing, my troupe delivered a message to Roman’s vampire connection in town to be here before dawn. Xander and Aristelle both refused to deal with vampires at first, but these are people Roman trusts, and I trust Roman, and my troupe trusts me because despite everything, I fought for them. I’m still fighting for them. The hope of freeing Sarah from the garden was the last straw to get them on my side. I’m not positive they won’t try to stake Roman when this is over, though.

The vampire steps closer. His skin is pale, and his hair is straight and honey-brown, just long enough to tuck behind his ears. His features are delicate and unassuming. He wears dark-washed jeans and a black button-up shirt, and he looks like he might be heading to a casual office for a day of work. He moves slowly, and something about it seems off.

“Numerius.” Lucius says the name like a curse.

I shoot Roman a surprised look, but he seems just as shocked. The other vampires he’d been dealing with must not have told him everything. That can’t be good. But we don’t really have any other choice except to go along and hope Numerius will keep the same promises.

Numerius raises his hands. “I come in peace.”

That wasn’t the plan.

“You killed my sister,” Lucius states. For a second there’s a flash of grief in his eyes, and I can see what that moment must have been like for him, finding her. And yet he did that to me. What kind of person can feel that loss and inflict it on someone else? Only a monster.

“And you killed mine in return.”

There are murmurs from the water.

Numerius looks around. “Oh, they didn’t know? Are you still spinning that same old tale of heroic sacrifice?” He raises his voice. “My sister was no saint. She didn’t give her life to make your little trinkets. She helped Lucius kill a magician to make each and every one of your cursed stones. And then he killed her to keep it quiet and spun a tale of sacrifice being worth more than blood.”

I glance at the fog-hidden boats, anxious to see how the other magicians are taking this. The fog thins, hugging the water. Most of them stare uneasily, glancing between Lucius and Numerius.

“And now…” He lets out a deep chuckle. “Now you kill a fellow magician each time you make a new one immortal, do you not? You all have blood on your hands. Are you any better than us?”

“One life to save hundreds,” someone shouts.

“Just one, is it?” Numerius waves a hand at the bodies dangling in vines. “Looks like you all deserve the sharp end of a stake.”