“A lot of things were ‘cut in half’ thanks to the Brotherhood,” Jude rejoins without missing a beat, “including a few hundred peaceful shepherds and farmers.”

“You know what? This is stupid.” Turning to me, Daphne states, “I was raised by people who took an oath to protect humankind against vampires.” With a pointed glance at Jude, she states, “I don’t care what tall, dark, and Dracula here has heard, or thinks he can convince you he knows—the Brotherhood of Perseus has always been a bulwark against the undead. Don’t fall for his crap.”

“‘A bulwark against the undead.’” Jude rolls his eyes. “Give me a break. If you Perseans are so virtuous and steadfast and all that other bollocks, why didn’t you tell August the truth about who you are?”

“Because it wouldn’t be a secret society if we went around handing out business cards, fucknut. While we’re talking backgrounds, though, maybe now’s a good time for you to tell Auggie about your work for the Syndicate!”

“Th-the Syndicate?” The blood drains out of my face, sinking all the way to my ankles. The undead like to keep humans in the dark as to their organizational structure, but everyone has heard of the Vampire Syndicate.

Blood is what fuels the undead, what spawns their progeny, and what binds them together. If Daphne is right about his age, then four hundred and whatever years ago, Jude was a living, breathing human just like me; until a vampire drained him, fed him, and killed him—thus bringing him back from death.

That means the blood that even now fills the chambers of Jude Marlowe’s heart—perennially still, unless he wills it to beat—is spawned from that of the vampire who Turned him. For however long they both walk the Earth, Jude will be linked to his maker on an elemental and psychic level; and because his maker has a maker, and so on up, that link extends all the way to the top of his bloodline.

No one knows when the first vampires appeared, or where they came from, but there’s estimated to be a few million of them on the planet today … and roughly three-quarters of them can be traced back to a dozen distinct lineages. Short version? At some point in the distant past, a tiny handful of ancient, undead beings—each with considerable sway over their growing progeny—formed a coalition called the Syndicate to safeguard their survival and advance their interests.