"Pretty sure that was the meek, mate," Samson says.

  The thing that is Simon Deverell spits at Georgia's mate. Samson steps to the side to avoid the acidic-looking globule.

  Simon laughs at him, then the laugh stops mid-sound; unnaturally. "Did you make her?" he asks; his tone of voice now dripping venom.

  Samson says nothing. Georgia has still not moved. I can sense her having a heated argument with her vampire-within. I had feared she would not be able to do what was necessary when faced with her biological sire. It appears that fear was founded and the Dark Shadow is futilely trying to reason with her.

  Simon is no longer home. This…demon has taken possession of his body. My eyes dart to the tablet, now sitting in shadow on the plinth. The sunlight has been blocked off. I cannot determine how, but I know Horus has been locked outside. Perhaps the one creature among us who can identify this god-like being is of no use to us now.

  I glance at Jett. He's silent but watchful. Assessing, and hopefully coming up with an answer to what we face and how to beat it.

  "The clock is ticking, Vampire," the creature says to me. He has discarded Samson and rightfully singled me out of the group as the most powerful; the leader of the pack, so to say. But does he know what I am? Is he aware of the Iunctio?

  I decide not to test that theory and do not draw on the Iunctio's power, but I do call on my line. And on the Kindred connection power, I gained upon Lucinda's and my joining. I may not be able to feel her; to follow her glowing presence down the thread that Bonds us, but her power — her precious power — is still there for me to taste. Part of me fears I am denying her something that could sustain her. But had Lucinda had access to our Kindred connection, she would have saved herself by now, I am certain.

  My Kindred is a warrior, a fighter, a power that cannot be contained.

  And yet, she does not respond to my supping of her magic. She does not scold me telepathically. I cannot feel her presence. The absence of her is a gnawing pit inside me, eating away at my flesh and bones.

  My dragon rages.

  Simon Deverell cocks his head and stares at me, fascinated.

  "You are indeed different, Vampire," he says. "Where did such power come from, I wonder?"

  I cannot let him become aware of the Iunctio. What he knows, I fear all humans know. And none of them can be made to forget. Protecting at least that is within my ability. Saving Lucinda — and therefore myself — may not be.

  War wages out on the street. I can feel it. Auckland City is being destroyed all around us. I feel the vampyres who meet the Final Death. I sense the anger exuding from the Norms who set fire to everything they can touch. Christmas trees blaze, and posters of brightly coloured elves curl at the edges as they burn in shop windows. Fairy lights are extinguished one by one as rocks are thrown and bulbs are shattered. The streets are littered with debris and blood and reminders of a broken Christmas.

  I sense it all. See it all through those of my vampyres who remain awake. We must end this. But I have never faced a god-like creature before. Horus is as close to one as I have come. And, once, maybe twice, our goddess Nut maybe. Neither is anything like this foul beast before me. Neither Horus nor Nut reeks of sulphur and rot.

  Something is wrong with this entity. Something vile and putrid, in both act and form.

  I flash toward him. I do not signal my intent. Jett responds instantly; a warrior at heart, he'd been waiting for my move all along. Samson is reluctant to leave the side of his still-immobile mate. He hesitates. It does not matter. I will end this. Jett will aid me. Two against one — the Champion of the Iunctio and the Master of Auckland City — will be enough.

  Of course, Jett is without Horus, and two of his triumvirate are preoccupied. And I am without Lucinda; my mate; my Kindred; my heart.

  My Dragon roars. Jett lets out a shout. And Simon simply lifts his hand and sweeps it through the air, wiping away our attack along with our bodies. My back hits a support column. Jett is thrown through several crates of Egyptian artefacts. Simon cackles.

  And Georgia says, "Enough."

  The air stills. For whatever reason, this is what the creature has been waiting for.

  "Come daughter," Simon says, holding out his hand to her. The incongruous nature of the moment strikes me. This man dressed so finely, so impeccably, holding out his manicured hand in a fashion one would expect a father to do, and yet he is not her father — not anymore — and he is fetid. "Your mother needs you."

  "What do you know of my mother?"

  "She is ill, Georgia. It's time to come home and stop playing with the monsters. It's beneath you."

  "But I'm a monster, too, Dad."

  "Don't be ridiculous. I can fix that."

  The air was still before, now it hangs in wait. Heavy. Thick as molasses.

  Once upon a time, Georgia Deverell would have wanted that above all else. Would have wanted to be 'fixed'. But no more. She smiles. I see the Dark Shadow pacing behind her, a strut full of pride.

  "Is that why you teamed up with Beelzebub?" she asks pleasantly. The tone is an act. The question is real.

  This entity is the antithesis of God.

  "I. AM. GOD!" the creature wails, and we no longer have any hope of reaching Simon, I think.

  "Nah," Georgia says, nonchalantly. "If you were God, you would have smote us. You need me for something. To finish the job, maybe? You don't like vamps. Not sure yet why that is. But you're not above using a half-vamp to cleanse the Earth of them. What do you think I can do exactly? I'm just one monster among many."

  He stares at her and the Dark Shadow stills.

  "Oh, I see," Georgia says. "Not me you're after. Well, she won't help you, either, Old Nick. Tempting though your offer isn't."

  He screams at her, and while we shield our ears, I see something. A twitch of a finger; a jerk of his head; a flick of his eyelids; an anguished twist of his lips.

  Georgia sees it too. This creature — this Nothus — I have disdained for so many years now. Tolerated and no more. I could have pushed through the stay on her kill-on-sight order. I could have done what I promised Lucinda I would do. Instead, I have offered excuses, focused on vampyre business, and neglected an asset; a weapon in my arsenal.

  The Ambrosia reminded me of her usefulness in the council chambers. He knew what I had been doing; what I had at my disposal but refused to use.

  That will change.

  "You see things differently in the dead of night, Tempter," she says. "The moon casts an interesting shadow. Not so harsh, not so light, but in the darkness it creates, everything looks so very bright. It's a strange thing to witness; this other world that not many see. You've changed that of course. Humans know about us now. That's done. Can't undo it. But what I can do, and what we will do, is make sure the humans see the Light in the Dark cast by the moon. The shimmer of life, the pulse of the people, the chance to start again anew each evening. It's beautiful." She pauses as we watch a battle rage between Simon Deverell and the demon possessing him. "I'm more alive now, Dad than I ever was. I existed before. I walked in the sun and felt not an ounce of its warmth. I started each day half asleep, needing a cocktail of caffeine and sarcasm to get me through to the evening. Now, oh now, Dad, you should see me when I rise. I bound out of bed. I greet the moon with abandon. I seek out life, even if you think me half dead."

  The demon screams. Simon lets out a rage-filled bellow. And Darkness sweeps from his body, from each opening, from every pore. A smoke full of evil; circling up to the rafters, screeching. Simon staggers; lands on one knee. Georgia does not rush to him. Her eyes, like mine, are on the entity.

  "Any ideas how to contain that?" I ask aloud.

  A cackling sounds out and then the demon-god-smoke shoots through the skylight and vanishes into the daylight.

  Horus screeches and flies through the broken glass, landing on Jett's shoulder.

  "Bad juju. Bad juju," he sings in the high-pitched voice of a parrot.

  We all look at Simon Deverell.

  "Georgia," he says, his voice hoarse as if he has not used it for days. "Help me up." He waves his hand around, expecting her to take it.

  "You're still a complete douche, Simon," she tells him. "Get yourself up."

  He glares at his daughter but does as she says.

  "Which god is it?" I demand of him.

  He sneers at me. "You're the reason why my daughter is what she is. Why should I help you?"

  "He is not," Samson says. Simon's eyes jerk toward the vampyre. "I was there. It was not Michel who Turned Gigi."

  "You were there and didn't save her?"

  "I would have given my life for your daughter, but it was not an acceptable payment."

  "Useless," Simon snarls.

  "Our goddess saved her," Samson says, ignoring Simon's vitriol and unfair judgement.

  "What?"

  "Nut," Samson explains. "Goddess of the Sky and Heavens."

  "Protector of the Living Dead in the Second Life," Jett adds.

  "Mother of Light," Georgia finishes. "You picked the wrong side, Simon."

  "Which god is it?" I repeat.

  "I…I don't know," Simon says, uncertainty painting an abnormal image of the man. He stumbles over to the tablet. The sun shines down from above, now the skylight has been opened; the magic removed that locked Horus out of the warehouse. "The prophecy does not say," he mumbles in conclusion.

  None of us moves nearer to him. There's the sun, of course, to consider. And also, none of us trusts this human male.

  "You translated it," Jett says, his voice a low rumble that somehow calms Simon; he slowly stops shaking. "Released the magic that contained the entity." Simon nods in agreement to this assessment, his eyes on the ancient stone and the words etched upon it. "The spell has been cast now, speaking the prophecy again will not add to it."

  "What does it say?" I demand. I cannot soothe my tone. This man is responsible for taking my mate.

  But I also know we need to understand what we face.

  "Are you sure?" Simon asks; his eyes on Jett. He ignores his daughter and her lover. He ignores me, the vampyre he somehow knows wields the most power between us. His focus is on the one being that seems to calm him.

  Jett Vardi is not known for his calm influence on people. He usually tears them apart, limb by limb, when they make him angry. I don't think his anger at Simon Deverell will ever wane.

  The human is so very easily swayed, I realise. Maybe that is why glazes do not work as they should on him. They aren't needed. He has an affinity for the supernatural already; one he fights daily. How complex his relationship with his daughter is. How unnecessary.

  Returning his attention to the tablet, he clears his throat and then recites the translation.

  "Dark and Light shall fight one night

  As frost meets fire in their dark desires

  When carolers sing for one and all.

  Blood shall spill upon the gods' goodwill

  As silent their bite and deadly the night

  When white bleeds red for one and all.

  Hark! The heralds sing the awakening

  As a star shines bright on the holiest of nights

  When Light prevails for one and all."

  Silence fills the space. Larger even than the words.

  "Well," says Horus after a suitable length of time has passed. "That's pretty straightforward, isn't it?"

  "Are you being facetious?" Georgia asks.

  "Big word that. Not sure I understand it."

  She huffs out an annoyed breath.

  "The 'carolers' speak of Christmas," Jett suddenly explains. Of all of us, he is the most experienced at deciphering prophecies. "Dark and Light is self-evident. The 'gods' goodwill' could refer to the prophecy being written by one of them. The 'silent bite' refers to vampires, of course. And the 'blood spill' is the war the Norms wage with us."

  "'Holiest night' for Christmas Eve," Georgia guesses.

  "The 'star shining bright' is whoever is meant to end this madness," Samson adds.

  "And the 'Awakening'?" I ask.

  "This was meant to happen," Jett says. "Our exposure. Night meeting day. Someone planned this; wants it. And I'm not speaking of the entity; the god-like demon that possessed the human." His choice of words to identify Simon Deverell was purposeful, I believe. A derogatory tone was used that can't be missed. His eyes meet mine before he speaks again. "I think Nut wrote this."

  "What?" Georgia hisses.

  "Think about it, kitten," Jett urges. "We have stagnated. New blood does not stimulate change as it once did. You feel alive, but you are in the minority. A gift has been given us, and we squander it. You see potential, opportunity, and excitement. Most of our kind see endless Dark nights and too many lonely sunrises. We age and not in a good way." He flicks a look at me. "The ruling body —" at least he does not mention the Iunctio by name in front of Deverell "— is slow to change. Even when new blood infuses it." His eyes return to Georgia; waiting.

  "Nut's poking us," Samson says, "with a bloody big stick up the backside."

  "She always did like to dramatise her lessons," Horus agrees.

  "Fuck-a-god-riddling-duck," Georgia mutters.

  "It's also about balance," I say. "Nut preserves balance in all things, and so the Dark must have its day."

  "Great. Just great," Georgia exclaims. "But did she have to use my father?"

  We all turn and stare at the human male.

  "They listen to you," he says, sounding stunned. "You have conversations."

  "Are you kidding me?" Georgia snaps. "Did you think I was in thrall to all vampires or something?"

  Simon looks momentarily abashed.

  "I didn't choose this, Dad," she says levelly. "But I wouldn't change a thing about it, either. I like my life. I like who I have become. It is a gift. And one I don't intend to squander."

  I will free this woman from our society's judgement. I will make all Nothuses legal the moment this demon is banished. This is a silent promise I make to Nut. A promise I make to myself. I will not squander this gift, either.

  Who would have thought Georgia Deverell would be the one to wake me up again? Lucinda breathed life into my ancient soul. She saved me. But Georgia Deverell slapped me over the face and dared me to live again.

  "Right," I say, staring hard at Simon Deverell. "You fought back. You were only able to do that because of our goddess' touch and the connection you share with your daughter. You've been given a second chance, Mr Deverell. Will you take it?"

  He looks at Georgia, so much going on behind those steel-grey eyes. So many thoughts and questions and maybe, just maybe, a few answers now to ponder upon.

  "Yes," he says and nods his head. His eyes dart back to my face. "But I don't like what you are, Vampire. Don't think we'll ever be friends or confidants or anything."

  "I'll take you as an ally, right now, Deverell. Your kind of friendship seems double-edged."

  "And my support as an ally?" he snaps back.

  "Necessary." I step forward, breaching the space between us; challenging the sun and proving to this human that it won't save him. I admire his courage, though. He does not take a step back; step away. "But make no mistake, human," I say. "To double-cross me and mine would be a fatal move to make. You've introduced a malevolent entity into our realm, a realm that was created for all of us despite our creed or kind. You have risked unbalancing the world and the peace we live in."

  "Peace?!"

  My fangs come down and my eyes bleed to magenta. The dragon lurks behind my monstrous facade.

  "Peace," I growl. "For without it, you and so many of your kind would be dead."

  "You'd kill off your food source?" he says with derision.

  "We'd keep a few as cattle," I snap.

  "Give it up, Michel," Georgia drawls. "Stupid is as stupid does."

  "I never understood that saying," Horus admits. "I mean, stupid can't help it."

  "That's the point," Georgia says with a long-suffering sigh.

  "If you have to explain it, sweetcheeks, it's not a good joke," Horus tells her.

  "It's not a joke at all, arsehole," she mutters.

  Horus lets out a loud guffaw as Simon Deverell watches on with wide eyes.

  Is this what Nut planned? For humans to see us as normal? I wonder, and then I stagger as a wave of weakness washes over me. Jett reaches out to steady me. Georgia and Horus stop arguing. And Samson tells Simon to shut the fuck up when the human asks what is wrong with the vampyre.

  What is wrong with the vampyre is my Kindred is missing.

  The dragon lets out a roar of rage, and I am once again face-to-face with the human male.

  "Where is she?" He trembles where he stands. "You will help me find her!" I demand.

  "Of course," he whispers, unable to speak any louder. "Truce?" he offers and Georgia snorts.

  "Truce," I agree and goddess help us all.

  CHAPTER 7

  LIGHT PREVAILS

  It takes two long days to find her. It is Christmas Eve, the twins' birthday, and I am a wreck. The kindred-separation has almost killed me. I fear Lucinda cannot be doing any better. I fear what the demon has done to her. It is only the draw on my line — now near the Final Death itself — along with the mate-bond and the Iunctio's power base that keeps me going.

  I am a shadow of myself. I scare even my children.

  Marcus and Matthias have been spared my draw, as they guard the twins with their life. I cannot risk losing them. For now, they are safe, in the penthouse at the Plaza. I slip out of our home while they sleep; a look of concern gracing Matthias' face as I leave them.

  The trip down in the elevator is a moment of peace in a world that has been at war. Auckland City is broken. So is the world over. All Vampire Central areas have been gravely wounded. Perhaps beyond repair.

  I ache at the loss and it has nothing to do with the loss of Lucinda. We are losing this war.

  The scent of smoke greets me as I step out on the ground floor. The Plaza is not ablaze, but the city is. I can see flames through the front entrance, scorching the night sky in the distance. I can scent burned wood and plastic and metal and meat. They turn my kind to ash. They are insatiable.