Blaire took one last look at herself in the Witch Queen’s magic mirror. In her black organza sheath gown and head held high she looked like the Princess of the Night.

When Pima opened the door, Coal was resting on the wall beside it. Blaire anticipated a sign of awe like most boys when approached by a stunning woman, but he simply nodded at Blaire.

“Are you ready?” Coal asked.

“Don’t I look ready?” she bit.

“Everyone’s waiting. Let’s go.” Coal stepped past Blaire and strode down the hall, not bothering to keep even pace.

Blaire closed her eyes and inhaled, summoning willpower to keep it together. She couldn't afford to lose patience over things such as a minor brushoff. Who knew what other characters she'll meet.

With forced forgiveness, Blaire followed Coal though the snake infested maze. She’d grown rather immune to their existence, though it would be a lie to say she liked them.

When they reached the dining room, there were wide black entrance doors grazing the ceiling. Two demon men stood on each side like guards, acknowledging Coal and Blaire with a nod. As Coal passed them without a second glance, Blaire assumed they were servants like Pima.

The dining room was of impressive size, topaz and black colored. It was cold visually and physically. The walls have beautiful intricate markings while chandeliers hang frozen from above.

A vintage rectangular black table was placed in the center of the room much grander than Grandfather Henry Blackwood’s. Almost every seat was already filled, save for two seats situated on complete opposite ends.

Four out of seven people at the table stood; all men. The women remain seated.

“Blaire!” Death greeted, walking around the head of the table at the far end. “Come sit beside me. Coal, thank you so much for escorting her.”

Coal silently escaped to his seat on the opposite end of the table while Blaire reluctantly took Death’s hand and was led to the empty black leather chair on his right side.

Blaire felt everyone’s eyes follow her speculatively as she strode with feigned confidence.

Death waved away a servant by her seat and personally slid it back.

Blaire tentatively sat and kept her eyes on the table as she sunk into it.

“Let me introduce you to my family,” Death decided, standing between his throne and table. “Starting clockwise.”

Blaire locked eyes on each person he introduced on the left side of the table, all of which were men.

“Asper, Jameson, Russell and, of course, Coal.”

Blaire nodded politely to all of them, smiling faintly, but it was so forced. Only Asper seemed genuinely happy to see her.

“Next is my wife, Hannah-”

Blaire’s brow arched at the information, but remained silent.

“Rin and Arie.”

Blaire could hardly see the women from her position, but she had an unfortunate feeling they’d have plenty of time to familiarize themselves.

Placed beside her, Arie was the easiest to see. She resembled Death’s wife twenty years younger with olive skin and ebony hair. Her neutral face remained forward, staring through Jameson.

Death sat and Blaire exhaled, finding that she had been holding her breath.

Asper laughed. “We’ve already frightened her.”

Asper seemed young-possibly in his late teens-with wavy brown hair and lively hazel eyes. Attractive, but in the way you would find fire attractive. You can look, but you shouldn’t touch.

“I thought she didn’t scare easy,” Rin, Blaire thought, joins in.

“I don’t,” Blaire snapped. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m nervous.”

“What for?” Rin chirped. She was irritably cheerful.

“I thought you’d all be much more grotesque,” Blaire quipped.

There was a surprisingly offended silence.

“What you said was impolite. Even as a guest, I can’t overlook it,” Jameson spoke. “I demand that you apologize.”

“You demand?” Blaire repeated with a brow arched.

From the corner of her eye Blaire saw Death signaling for a servant. He seemed to care nothing for the brewing storm at the table. Blaire wondered if he was that type of father. The kind that never cared.

“Excuse me, but since when was I a guest?”

“The moment you put on that dress and sat at our table,” Jameson sneered.

“Jameson,” Hannah broke in coolly. He turned to his mother and with her serene stare he was silenced. Like a petulant child he sulked in his seat. He must respect Hannah very much.

“What’s for dinner?” Blaire asked Death. “You, um, eat food?”

“No,” Death answered. “But we have something for you.”

Jameson mumbled something under his breath, earning a bemused glance from Russell and a narrowed one from Blaire.

Certainly they couldn’t, well, sink their teeth into their humans at the dinner table. It may be large but there wasn’t that much room. And. as Blaire visualized, was very shameless.

“I’d give up a Chosen to know what she’s thinking right now,” Russell leered, and Blaire reddened further. He had to be in his early thirties. Handsome, too, but in a lethal sense. They’re all lethal. None are ugly, none are plain, they’re all just…different.

Her eyes flickered to Coal whose attention was latched onto the girl-Rin-opposite him.

He was definitely by far the most attractive man in the family. It was a biased but honest opinion. Looking at him and remembering Cole cut Blaire’s heart out.

Blaire reached for the silver goblet before her and greedily gulped the water. She had no idea how parched she was.

As Blaire drunk, a line of servants appeared with silver platters on their hands.

Blaire’s meal was obvious because it was the only one with physical substance. Everyone else had a goblet and a pitcher of thick dark liquid.

Blaire hardly noticed the roasted chicken, mashed potatoes and cooked vegetables set before her as everyone else was served.

Their goblets were placed on the table and, wordlessly, the servants poured the pitchers of blood into their fancy cups until it either reached the rim or the snake demon cut the servant off.

Then the servants bowed and sunk back, pressing themselves against the wall and turning into living statues.

The scent of copper was strong and repulsive. It distracted Blaire from her own meal.

“Something bothering you?” Jameson taunted, but she ignored him.

“I thought snakes didn’t drink blood,” Blaire said, disturbed.

“You thought we ate mice?” He grimaced at the thought.

“Yes…”

Jameson scoffed.

“We are demon snakes, not real ones magically turned into human form.” Death gave his son a chilling warning glare.

Everyone else wisely turned their attention to their meal.

“Our bite does more than drink blood.” Death reached out for Blaire. “And I will show you.”

Blaire opened her mouth to tell him “Hell” to the “No” when someone else chirped in.

“I doubt she wants an old man,” Russell purred. “Let me show her our ways.”

There was a rude clatter sound and everyone turned to Coal who had crushed his goblet and splattered blood.

Jameson cursed. “Watch it, Coal!”

Coal tossed the broken goblet on the table, saying nothing, but his action spoke volumes.

“Don’t worry,” Russell added with a sly smile. “Coal can have his turn after I’m done.”

“Russell,” Hannah warned. But her voice doesn’t have as good as an effect on him as it did with Jameson.

“Thank you for your offer, Russell,” Death began with a chilled undertone, “but I’ll leave it up to Blaire to decide. Once the time comes.”

Once the time comes?

“Why wait?” Russell whined.

“She’s my Chosen,” Death reminded.

“But you can share,” he countered and his father scoffed.

“If you are not satisfied with what you have now then by all means find yourself a new Chosen,” Death permitted his son. “But you do not touch what is mine without my permission. None of you. Do you understand?”

Russell shot to his feet and stormed to the exit with goblet still in hand. As he passed Coal, he dropped his drink.

Coal elegantly dodged and the cup slid across the table, splattering red everywhere.

Except for Coal, protests were made by the nearest casualties.

“Oops. My apologies.” Russell bent down and whispered something provocative in Coal’s ears. Russell’s wicked smiling eyes slid to Blaire, silently revealing what subject he’s pestering his brother with.

Coal scowled slightly and Blaire was aching to know what they were saying about her. She wanted to talk to Coal again, even if he didn’t.

“Don’t worry,” Arie said, drawing Blaire’s attention. “It is not you that he wants, but what he can't have.”

“That’s reassuring,” Blaire replied, stabbing her piece of chicken.