"He's new. And he's insufferable."

Oh good, I can't wait to meet him. I bet I'll like him too.

The Reaper lets out a quiet groan, his hand pressing to my back once more as he steers us away from the marble slabs. Part of me wants to stay and read the other tablets. I want to see who felled my other sisters, to see who killed friends and enemies and lovers long ago. But my eyes stay fixed to Aglaope's name until we pass the black stone.

We walk to the left of the vestibule and up a set of stairs to the second floor. A sign hangs over the landing, EKIMMU inscribed in black metallic letters. Vampire. We walk beneath the sign and the space opens to a wide foyer, books stacked along the rows and rows of shelves that line its perimeter. On the far wall is a wide marble slab with KUD EKIMMU carved at the top in the same shimmering gold as the lists of reaped souls in the vestibule. Clan of the Vampire.

I stray from Ashen's hand, drifting toward the marble wall, my eyes fixed to the tablet. Beneath the title, scrolling across the stone, are the names of my sisters. Gunura. Aya. Lamashtu. Nanaya. Ligeia. Parthenope. Thelxiope. Molpe. Aglaope. And lastly, my name. Leucosia. Each of our names is crossed out, either in black or in gold.

My breath is trapped like a beast in my chest. All I can see is everything I've lost. All I can feel is memory, pressing its inescapable weight on my heart.

I sense Ashen next to me and I point to the top of the list. I clutch the journal and pen to my breast with my other hand. I can feel my heart hammering at my black blood, pressing it through my veins.

"The ones crossed in gold are souls that were reaped. The ones crossed in black are vampires that were killed by other means, by werewolves or witches or their own kind. Even by humans, on occasion. The ones without a mark are those that still live, though the list is not comprehensive. There were many vampires made by the earlier generations that are more difficult to track. The list is updated continuously."

I look up at the list of names beneath mine. Many of them have been struck through, and some are unaccounted for which gives me a certain sense of relief. Some live on, like Sora, who I made a vampire in the days when we fought together alongside Tomoe Gozen. If the record that stands before me is accurate, she has managed to survive for seven hundred years despite surely being in the thick of every battle she could find.

"This is one of the vampires that was captured for the creation of the hybrid," Ashen says, pointing to the top of the list beneath Aya's name. "Zara Sargan. She was one of the few first generation vampires left. This is another," he says, shifting his hand to point below Molpe's name. "Arne Larsen, a second generation vampire created in 1066 by a powerful vampire known only as Valentina. She passed much of her strength and abilities to the ones she created, but the line has since dwindled."

I feel Ashen's gaze shift to me, but I don't look at him. I keep reading, absorbing the map of history into my memory. I look for familiar names. I look for those that are missing from the list and I pray they stay hidden. I look for a thread between the two that were taken and myself, but there is nothing I can see that directly connects us.

"Where are you on this list, Lu? Are you here?" Ashen asks, his voice quiet and deep, like a creature surfacing from dark water.

My eyes flick in his direction and back to the stone. Ashen steps in front of me without fully obstructing my view. I feel the heat of his presence. I don't look in his eyes. I keep my gaze on the list, committing it to memory.

"Do you know Zara or Arne?"

I shake my head.

"Which generation are you, Lu?"

I don't make any movement to respond. I look across the first two generations down the line from my sisters and me. Nearly everyone is wiped out, except for Valentina and a vampire I created in Rome named Cassian Agnello. If I was willing to bet, and I am, they’re in as much danger as me.

"Lu..." Ashen says. He steps further into my line of sight, though I still keep my eyes on the marble as I read and re-read the names. "Who created you?"

I shake my head. I honestly don't know who made me, so that part is not a lie. I don't remember my parents. I don't remember any other life. I just remember waking up on the island, on the sand by the sea. It was like I washed up on the shore never having been anything else but what I am.

"You have the ability to cast spells, most vampires cannot do that. It's an ability that seems absent in later generations. You must have been created many years ago, when more of the early vampires remained. Are you first or second generation? Third?"

Fucksakes, he's in full investigative mode.

I finally cut my gaze to Ashen. I give him a fierce look and try to bury my fear far beneath it. The way his eyes shift between mine makes me feel like he's hunting for it. Like he's trying to fish it from the depths.

"You can tell me. I owe you a life debt, Lu. It goes beyond the confines of the spell that you cast. You saved me from a death that would have been everlasting, even after I told you I would not protect you in the fight where we met." Ashen takes a step closer, a distance on the boundary between safety and suspicion should anyone see us together and wonder what kind of moment we're having.

My eyes narrow and I tilt my head as I regard him with scrutiny. I tear my journal from my chest and it feels like stripping off armor in the thick of battle. But you did protect me in that fight. You pulled me out of the battle when I was bitten. Why?

Ashen's eyes flick to my arm, the bite now healed. "You were injured."

That's not an explanation, I write.

We stand like two statues before the tablet of names, a Reaper and a Vampire. The last of the original sirens, the genesis of my clan. The executioner who would have me killed if he knew what I was. Yet somehow, right now, it feels like we are simply a man and a woman just trying to figure each other out.

I fan the note before Ashen's face. That's not an explanation. I wait for an answer, trying to kill any hope for something bold and true.

"I don't know," Ashen says. But the spark of flame in his eyes, as dim as it is, makes me think otherwise. He moves a step closer. His eyes flow across my skin. I can almost feel the lick of their brightening flame. "But I do know that I meant what I said. I will not let any harm come to you."

Another small step closer. There's barely a breath of space between us. If someone comes up here, they are definitely going to have some questions.

"Tell me where you belong on this list, Lu. Help me figure out what I'm missing," Ashen says. He reaches up and sweeps a lock of hair from my ponytail back across my shoulder. His movement is slow and precise. His eyes stay locked to mine. "You can trust me."

Well shit.

I'll tell you one thing. If I've learned anything in my five thousand years on this hunk of space rock hurtling itself around the sun, it's this:

Nothing good ever came from those four words.

I look at every curve and angle of Ashen's face. He's like a beautiful creature from the depths of the sea that turns its lights to the darkness, luring its prey with promises it will never keep. Come for the allure of a beacon in black water. Stay for the bite that kills you.

I hold his gaze for a long moment before I turn my attention to the notebook.

Where is the hybrid? I write, turning my note toward him. His brow is creased when he looks up from the question to me.