Grigori Rasputin: Russian mystic, faith healer for the Romanov family, founder of the Mystic Order of the Northern Wolf. Born in Siberia in 1869, he was Turned ca. 1916, shortly before his officially recorded death.

Hecuba: Age unknown. Having gone by many names, she is one of the twelve original Syndics who formed the Syndicate of Vampires.

Erasmus Kramer: German mystic, founder of the League of the Dark Star. Age at death unknown. He rescued Viviane Duclos from certain death during the Affair of the Poisons but died sometime in the late 1700s.

OTHER

Brixia, Ket, and Sulis: Free agents. Origins unknown; ages unknown; agenda unknown.

The Nexus: A convergence of two ley lines at the exact coordinates of Fulton Heights, Illinois. Nothing but trouble.

The Corrupter: Also called the Dark Star, the Endless One, and the Shining Immortal. A spectral entity that supposedly returns to the earthly realm once every generation. Unverified. Some venerate it, and some fear it; but if the legends are true, it portends the actual apocalypse …

Yekaterinburg, Russia

1918

Even before she opened her eyes, the girl knew that death had come for her. Again. The dark air was thickened with its pall, tangible as humidity and just as lush, and it settled over her with a gentle caress. This body was healthy and young, and it could have had a long life. But instead it would be sacrificed in a grab for power—that much had been written on the wall for months, years—because the only thing mortals prized more than the preciousness of life was their ability to destroy it.

“Your Highness?” A man hovered at her bedside, one hand on her shoulder. It was Botkin, the physician, his high forehead laddered with concern. He was a kind man, loyal—and doomed. The second she met his gaze, the fate that awaited him unrolled in her mind’s eye. It would be ugly. “You need to get up.”

“Is something wrong with Alexei?” The question came automatically, dredged from the grooves of instinct and a rebellious part of her consciousness that wouldn’t let go.

“It … the tsarevich is fine, Your Highness,” Botkin answered soothingly. Across the room, Olga was already on her feet, and Tatiana was stretching her limbs. “But it seems we’re being moved again. There’s been violence in the city, and they fear it will get worse.”

Taking a deep breath, she let the thick air coat her tongue and fill her body, her senses crackling. Rage, and hatred, and—yes, violence. But not in the city; it was here. Under this roof. It gathered like a thunderhead, and soon it would burst. Casting her covers aside, she sat up. “All right, then. I’ll get dressed.”