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Angela cleared her throat to gain Prudence’s attention. “Um, portraits ahoy?” She gestured to the wall with her thumbs.

Prudence moved next to Angela. “Right, portraits ahoy.” She tapped Ezekiel’s chest as she and Angela walked by. “Let’s make that our catchphrase from now on.”

“Have it engraved on my next tie clip,” Ezekiel declared.

“I’ll be right behind you, Angela,” Corin said. “Edgar and I have some things to discuss.” His eyes narrowed at Ezekiel.

“It was nice meeting you, Mr. Lacroix,” Prudence called over her shoulder.

Corin gave Prudence a solemn nod. “The pleasure was all mine, Mrs. Hughes.”

“Shall we?” Ezekiel gestured for Corin to walk with him, and they navigated through the crowd to find a place where they would have a little more privacy. A few visitors delayed them to compliment Ezekiel’s artwork, and Corin tapped an impatient foot each time. They finally slipped into a smaller empty showroom adjoining the main gallery, and the two vampires faced each other.

Corin fixed Ezekiel with a look devoid of any remaining decorum. “All right, blaireau, you wanted to talk? Then talk.”

“I’m still a blaireau, am I?” Ezekiel chuckled. “Excuse me for detaining you, Cor—”

“That’s Mr. Lacroix to you.”

Ezekiel continued without missing a beat. “—rin, but we’ve clearly gotten off on the wrong foot, and I would like to rectify that.”

Corin glowered at Ezekiel. “How old are you?”

Ezekiel was taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Just answer the question.”

Ezekiel crossed his hands behind his back. “Well, my forged birth certificate says I’m thirty-two, but I was forty at the time of my mortal death, and I was born in 1580.”

“1580,” Corin mused. “Good.”

Ezekiel laughed. “You’re pleased by this? Why?”

“It would have been awkward if I was chronologically younger, what with your apparent youth, but I am indeed older than you.”

“Really? How old are you exactly?”

Corin tapped the floor with his cane. “My current persona is sixty-seven, but I was seventy at the time of my death, and I was born in 1433.”

That means he’s older than Baldur. “If you’re that old, then how old is Ms. Thorne?”

“Angela is twenty-four.”

“Chronologically, or has her magic stopped her aging as well?”

“No, Angela ages like any other human.”

Ezekiel’s eyes fell to the floor. “So she’s not your immediate niece, but rather several generations removed?”

“If I must be specific, Angela is my eighteenth great-granddaughter.”

“You stayed with your family for that long? Through eighteen generations?” The faces of Ezekiel’s wife and child flashed through his mind, and his chest tightened.

“Well, twenty when you include my son and immediate grandchildren.” Corin’s eyes widened in alarm. “Is something wrong? You look distressed.”

“I’m fine.” Ezekiel swallowed against a lump in his throat. “Just very impressed.” Could I have stayed with Lydia and Abigail? Could I have been there for my own descendants?

Corin regarded Ezekiel in silence for a moment, his fingers thrumming the handle of his cane. “How many lives have you taken since you came to Eidolon City?”

Ezekiel’s head shot up, the question catching him off guard. He must be concerned that my hunting will draw unwanted attention. He folded his arms. “I’ve taken five lives, but do not worry. I always hide the evidence.”

“I see.” Corin puffed out his chest. “Mr. Blake, I wish to express my gratitude for saving Angela’s life in the subway. You stopped that troubled young man from shooting her, and you rescued her from burning by her own magic.” He held his hand out to Ezekiel. “From the bottom of my heart, thank you for saving my child.”

Corin’s sudden change in attitude pleased Ezekiel. It appeared he had made some progress. He accepted Corin’s handshake, giving him a warm smile. “You’re welcome.”

“Now leave,” Corin hissed, eyes flashing red.

Ezekiel stood frozen. “I … I beg your pardon?”

“Leave my city.” Corin clutched the handle of his cane so hard that the seams of his glove threatened to tear. “I won’t allow you to hunt my people.”

Ezekiel lifted his palms in a placating gesture. “Cor … Mr. Lacroix, I assure you, I only kill those who deserve to die.”

“Who are you to decide who deserves to die?” Corin spat.

“I don’t understand. Since I arrived, I’ve killed two murderers, two rapists, and as you and Ms. Thorne well know, one attempted murderer. I’ve rid this city of five dangerous predators. How can you be outraged by that?”

“Save your justifications. You don’t kill people to make the world safer.” Corin clenched his free hand into a tight fist. “You kill because you’re nothing more than a sadistic parasite, just like the rest of our kind.”

“Yes, our kind,” Ezekiel retorted. “You’re one of us. What of your victims?”

Corin sneered. “I have no victims.”

Ezekiel shook his head in bewilderment. “What?”

Corin repeated his statement, emphasizing each word. “I—have—no—victims.”

They stood in silence for a moment, Ezekiel trying to process what Corin just said. “Preposterous! You couldn’t have lived for so long and not succumbed to bloodlust.”

“I don’t give a damn if you believe me or not. You pack up your little art show and get as far away from us as …” Corin’s nostrils flared, and fear filled his eyes. “Oh, no.”

Ezekiel caught the scent as well. “Smoke?”

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