Page 19 of Blood and Hexes

They were walking faster than a human could have run. At the gates, Diana dropped her bike and broke into a sprint.

"Bill!" she yelled, rushing into the troll's open arms. "I can't believe you're still here!"

The humongous squash-faced giant squeezed her close, all the while grunting. "I do not like you anymore. You didn't come back. For years and years!"

He finally let her go.

She winced. "I'm here now, Bill! And I brought you something."

The troll sniffled. "Oh?"

Returning to her bike, she opened the left saddlebag. She shuffled through her stuff, pulling out two pairs of boots before finding what she was looking for: an old metal container the size of a shoebox, rusted in places. She brought it back to the gates, and presented it to Bill.

He flipped the lid open. Inside, there was an assortment of trinkets. Magnets, coins, spoons, little sculptures, keychains, stones, rings, pieces of lace, ribbons.

"You remembered."

When she'd left, he'd asked—well, he'd downright ordered—her to bring back something from where she went, so each time she visited a new country, she had ended up collecting one souvenir. There were over two hundred bibelots, from every single country in the world, including some that had long since fallen.

"Duh. I'm a vampire, you know."

His twisted face beamed, and he hugged her again, so close he lifted her up a good foot from the ground. "Maybe I still like you."

"I like you too, Bill."

He put her down gently. Diana patted herself to put her clothes back in order, and turned to get back to her bike. To her annoyance, the tall, dark, and handsome guy whose name she didn't even know was carrying it.

Hand on her hip, she glared. "I don't need help."

"I'm aware."

He wasn't letting the bike go.

"I don't like strangers touching my things."

That wasn't accurate at all—she was all for sharing, never one to grow attached to material possessions. Except for her boots. But he didn't know that.

"Good thing I'm no stranger."

Her jaw set. "I don't know you."

"Oh?" His tone was challenging. "And here I distinctly remember dragging you home once or twice, after you'd snuck out to play in Adairford."

She hid her surprise. As a young child, Diana had snuck out a few times, to her mother's despair. On the rare days when she'd felt strong enough, all she'd wanted was to play with her friends. Her parents would have never allowed it. Helsings simply didn't mix with servants. None of the children on the hill were allowed anywhere near her either, for fear of their giving her any sort of sickness. Colds were alarming enough back in the day for most people, but from the moment she was born, some one month early, Diana had had a piss-poor immune system. She would never have survived if it weren't for magic. Her parents hadn't wanted to take any chances with her from that point. Her sole companion had been her older brother.

She'd guessed that the man in front of her was ancient. No run-of-the-mill vampire could even hope to restrain her for a single second. She hadn't realized he might be older than dirt. Diana hadn't met anything this old in a long time. Ancient vampires didn't roam the streets at night. They remained in their seats of power, at the head of their clan—their family. She was within Oldcrest now. She shouldn't have been surprised to meet others like her here.

She wondered what house he led. Not the Drakes—she knew all three of their ancients. Certainly not the Rosedeans—their matriarch wasn't even five hundred years old. Diana bit her lip. She knew everyone else. Everyone who mattered.

"Who are you?"

He stared at her, daring her to remember. Annoyed at herself for coming up blank, and at him for not making things easy, she shrugged. "Fine. You want to carry my stuff? Be my guest."

She spun on her heel and strutted out of his space, crossing the open gates of the hill. Alexius laughed, until she shot him a nasty look.

As she strode uphill, hereyes traveled upward, to the summit, and the dark house resting on it. Skyhall. The ultimate seat of power of Night Hill. The Eirikrson house.

Back when she lived here, the house had been a constant buzz of activity, between the training of slayers, of Eirikrson children, and the lavish parties they’d thrown to celebrate their victories. To celebrate their absolute dominion.

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