I smiled at the disgust in his voice. “Aw, but they’re wearing their Sunday best. Are they all vampires?”

“Yes, but some are mutts.”

“Mutts?” I looked back at the horned man. “As in mixed with something else?”

“Mmm. The vampire you just collided with has some demon ancestry. There are some lupins here, as well.” He wrinkled his nose. “Do take care around them, they’re liable to hump your leg.”

“Lupins?” I remembered something Nathan had told me. “You mean werewolves?”

Cyrus shushed me. “Werewolf-vampire hybrids. But that’s not the politically correct term. Lupins are making great strides at becoming semicivilized, and they prefer not to be lumped in with their lesser wolven brethren. My God, those creatures are still living in the woods, running in packs. Who would want to be associated with them?”

A guard stepped forward. “Sir? They’re approaching.”

Cyrus took a deep breath and turned to me. “Are you ready?”

I wasn’t certain what I was supposed to be ready for, but I nodded. Still firmly clamped to his side, I walked with him as guards opened the doors.

The night air was cold as it hit us on the top step. In the moonlight, I saw the gate at the end of the driveway open. A long sedan pulled up, followed by a hearse. Another sedan completed the motorcade. They rolled to a stop at the top of the drive, the hearse in position in front of the door.

Eight men, identical in height, features and their black suits, exited the cars. A chauffeur stepped out of the hearse. He opened the back door ceremoniously, exposing a gleaming, bronze coffin.

Cyrus straightened at my side. I thought I saw a tear on his cheek, but it might have been a drop of blood from his deteriorating replacement eye. He wiped it away with an unsteady hand.

The men lifted the casket on their shoulders and carried it to the house. Cyrus turned and guided me back inside. I glanced over my shoulder to see the pallbearers follow us.

The crowd parted and allowed our procession to pass. I saw some of them bow their heads as we walked by. Those who didn’t either looked on in interest or boredom, and the Fangs lifted their beer bottles in salute as our weird caravan moved through the foyer.

Guards opened the study doors. Inside, the furniture had been removed to make a place for a large dais, ringed with tasteful arrangements of black and white carnations. The pallbearers moved past us and slid the coffin gently into place.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Cyrus said quietly. “My guards will see that you are adequately fed.”

The doors closed, leaving us alone with the Soul Eater. Cyrus knelt at the side of the coffin and laid his hands reverently on the bronze lid.

He bent his head, his hair falling forward, obscuring his face. He pressed his lips to the lid’s surface, and I heard him whisper, “Welcome home, Father.”