Anka was standing in the pouring rain, thunderclaps crashing overhead. The scene looked like London on a dreary grey day. Luckily Anka had an umbrella, which she held over her head while she waited at this bus stop.

After a minute or so, a red bus came to a halt, and she calmly and without questioning the scene got on board. She shook out her umbrella and walked past seat after seat. Each one was filled by one or two people, faces deadpan, and Anka could feel they were filled with darkness.

She stopped at the first double empty seat, and the bus took off. The rain was even heavier outside now, battering the window and the people walking outside. They had the same expressions as the people on board. She truly was in her patron god’s realm.

The bus slowed and stopped at the next stop. A steady stream of people came on board, but she didn’t pay too close attention until one tall man dressed in black, with a goatee, sat down beside her.

“Are you the one I was told to expect?” Anka asked without turning and looking at him.

“Yes, I am your god Balor’s emissary.”

“Pleasure to meet you. I am Anka.”

“Your reputation goes before you, Anka. I know what a powerful woman you are. Together we can make the darkness return.”

“We will,” Anka replied.

“Is the ring charged with power? Did you get the born vampire?” the emissary asked.

“I am very close. I should have Victorija Dred’s power very soon.”

“Balor has seen a complication.”

“What complication?”

“The descendants,” the emissary replied.

“We know of Amelia Debrek, but the second one is unclear, and they are not powerful enough to take on Balor like the prophecy shows,” Anka said.

“Not any more.”

“You know who it is?”

“Daisy MacDougall.”

As soon as he said the name, the bus, the dreary people, and the dreary streets of London fell like a pack of cards, and Anka was left kneeling in front of her altar, gasping. The dead man was still lying on the altar, but his blood wasn’t dripping any more. Together with the skulls and bones of the dead, this new temple, as she would call it, brought her closer to the dark side than she’d ever been before.

Anka gasped and forced herself to her feet. “Asha! Asha!”

He came striding into the underground temple. “Yes, Madam.”

“I know who the other descendant is. Daisy MacDougall. Call Drasas. We need Victorija to drink from her blood bond as soon as possible.”

* * *

Victorija’s vision was blurry. She was drinking from the wrist of the vampire standing beside her while holding a bottle of whisky in her other hand. One new symptom of her blood sickness was an inability to handle alcohol.