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Back The Fell of Dark Save as PDF
Chapters (46)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. CAST OF CHARACTERS
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. LITTLE WHITE PICKET FENCES
  44. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  45. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  46. Newsletter Sign-up

“Jude Marlowe was Turned in 1607 at age seventeen by Rudolfo Sanoguerra,” Daphne announces. “Sanoguerra was Turned in 1348 by Margit Bertóthy. She’s one of the real Transylvanians,” she adds, and I know what she means. Bram Stoker’s notorious 1897 novel inspired by the exploits of Vlad the Impaler was mostly bullshit, but it was so popular that vampires from all around the world suddenly started claiming a connection to the Romanian region where Castle Dracula was located. “These days, Margit’s maker goes by Hecuba. She’s used dozens of aliases, and no one actually knows how old she is. What we do know is that she’s one of the original Syndics; which means that Jude here is only three degrees of Kevin Bacon from the closest thing the undead have to a governing body.”

Jude stares at Daphne, shock written across his face. “Who are you?”

“I told you the Brotherhood keeps extensive records,” she answers smugly. “I’ve been studying vampire bloodlines since I could read.”

“Hello? Can we talk about me some more?” My voice is higher pitched than I’d like, but I can’t help it. The Vampire Syndicate sent a representative to find me. “I mean, like, not to interrupt your romantic tension or whatever, but can we skip ahead to the part about why the undead government even knows my fucking name?”

Slouching back, Jude flicks a distrustful glance at Daphne. “I’m not comfortable discussing Syndicate business in front of some Brotherhood gangster—”

“It’s not ‘Syndicate’ business,” my tutor interrupts immediately. “It’s Auggie’s business, and I’m not leaving him alone with you.”

They glare at each other, and pressure builds inside me until I can’t take it anymore. I don’t know if I want Daphne here for this or not, but I barely worked up the nerve to contact Jude at all, and I’m not leaving until I get my answers. Plus, she’s some kind of monster-killing knight, and maybe that’s what I need right now.

“I’m not promising to keep anything you tell me a secret.” I look Jude straight in the eye, my fingers aching from the death grip I have on the edge of the table. “And Daphne’s not going anywhere, because no matter how pretty you are, you’re still a vampire and I’m still a human and it was probably dumb of me to meet you alone in the first place.” Clearing my throat, I state, “You came here to tell me something, so just tell me already.”

Jude purses his lips, casts an annoyed gaze to the side, and then shakes his head. Finally, his eyes meet mine, his expression grave. “August, an ancient and powerful entity is rising here in Fulton Heights—now. And your body is the vessel prophesied to carry it.”

8