Jack had closed the window and put the heating on, but the air in the car was ice anyway.

"Can we ride with Tris instead?" Gwen whispered to Chloe.

Cat's bright green eyes turned to the back seat where Chloe was huddled between Gwen and Mikar.

"And you're a witch,” she said to Gwen. “Unusual, wouldn't you say, for one of you to spend time with huntsmen? You know they're behind most of the witch massacres throughout history?"

Blair, seated beside Cat in the second row, replied, "Actually, that was mostly regular human men killing random regular human women for kicks. Trust me, I’m from the Salem Coven. We know our history. Huntsmen and witches have a great relationship where I'm from in the States. They come to us for protective spells; we go to them when we have a rogue shifter problem, or whatever."

Cat all but hissed.

"Ignore her," Mikar told them. "Catherine is a Stormhale. Her family's storm magic is unpredictable. They've made a mess a billion times throughout history, and huntsmen have had to put down too many of her people. She isn't objective."

"Stormhale," Chloe echoed.

Levi had mentioned that name, but now she thought of it, she’d heard it before then.

One of the seven, she realized. The seven families directly changed by Ariadne, the vampires' creator. Blair had called them vampire royalty.

Suddenly remembering that frustrating conversation from three months ago, Chloe asked, "Hey, what are the founding families again? De Villier, Drake, Stormhale, Helsing…"

Cat didn't miss a beat, finishing the list for her.

"Beauforts, Rosedean, and Eirikrson."

Eirikrson. That was it. The one Blair had refused to talk about.

Chloe felt like the name was familiar to her, somehow, although she'd be hard-pressed to say where she'd heard it.

Eirikrson…

"It must be amazing to come from a line with so much history," Gwen said.

Cat turned to her and smiled, completely changing her features. She no longer seemed quite so cold or unfriendly. She looked younger and, if anything, more beautiful.

"We have stories that go back to the Roman times. You wouldn't believe half of it. And don't get me started with the family heirlooms." She winked at Gwen. "Jewels. Loads and loads of jewels."

Reiss laughed at her side. "I bet. Shame no one can get into the Eirikrson coffers. There must be so many treasures lying around in their dusty old mansion."

Cat visibly relaxed. "In Rome, we have a painting of my great-aunt with Liz Eirikrson. Her sword had a diamond the size of a fist, she wore the most gorgeous ruby necklace, and don't get me started on her diadem. To know that they're all lying over there, unappreciated, breaks my heart."

Chloe could feel Mikar stiffen. They were approaching a subject most people didn't want to talk about—to her, in any case. But Reiss and Cat, at least, hadn't received the memo. They talked without filter.

"Why are they unappreciated?" Chloe pushed.

Cat shrugged. "All the Eirikrsons are dead, save for the crazy one guarded in Oldcrest. And while their servants who are still alive do have access to Skyhall, the house atop Night Hill, they refuse to do anything with their fortune. Such a waste."

"They don'trefuseto do anything," Bash protested. "I hear that their treasures are sealed under a blood lock. No one can get in their coffer, except an Eirikrson."

"Maybe," Cat muttered. "My mom thinks the Eirikrson's slayers are just saying that so they can keep everything to themselves. Who knows?"

"Did you say one of them still lives in Oldcrest? Couldn't he claim it?"

The car fell silent. Absolutely silent. Then, everyone laughed—even Jack, who'd been tense for the last hour. The one exception was Mikar, whose jaw was tight. He didn’t like the turn of conversation.

"She's a regular," said Gwen, as an explanation, or an apology; Chloe couldn't quite tell. "I didn't realize no one had told you about Oldcrest. I would have, if I'd known."

After three months, she'd mostly stopped feeling like a newbie who didn't understand sup basics. Then came moments like this.