The rain that had soaked them after their re-entry from the Boundary persisted through to the next day and the next.

Nulla stands at the counter in the kitchen, slowly stirring a sugar cube into a cup of Turkish tea. Hope had surprised him with a bag of it yesterday. Apparently, it had been in Ignácio’s notes that it was his favourite—he’s correct, Nulla had even gone as far as learning how to properly brew it even though he’s useless at most other things in a kitchen.

Lying in the shadows of the hallway untouched by any daylight coming from the kitchen, is the Hellhound. Her red eyes glow in the dark as she watches Nulla with her head resting on her paws.

She’s been quietly following him around the Sanctuary since their return, though she’s careful to stay in the shadows during daytime.

The whispers, which had been so loud immediately after their return, are quiet.

Thick, dark grey clouds roll across the London sky, their colour starting to shift into a gun metal grey warning of a greater storm. The whistle of the wind has grown shrill every time it sweeps around the building, the sound more intimidating up on the higher floors.

Just beneath that though is a different sound.

The vampire is thrashing in his room again. It had been the same the day before from sunup to sundown. The sound of bare feet tracking erratic patterns around the room, the distinct neck crawling sound of nails carving into wood. Muted gasps stuffed down before they could be anything louder than that.

In the Fade during the daylight hours Nulla had seen first-hand the vampire’s excruciating pain.

Again, he didn’t understand how like the rest of his kind, the vampire didn’t slip into a coma-like sleep. The sun robbed them of their energy, sinking them into a deep lethargy that is dangerous if one isn’t already sequestered away somewhere safe.

The vampire hasn’t been very forthcoming about his identity.

Under the Sanctuary’s protection, Nulla had done what he was supposed to. Provided sustenance and basic decency to the best of his ability.

Yes the vampire is dangerous but whilst he’s here, he’s the same as anyone else.

Nulla wouldn’t risk the safety of others though. So, when Poe had returned with a cooler containing the blood Nulla had requested, he’d taken that up to the vampire’s room along with clean water and a couple of washcloths.

There was no bathroom in that room or any kind of sink like there is in Nulla’s. The safest way to get him cleaned up was to do it himself.

The vampire hadn’t seemed too pleased with waking up to Nulla’s ministrations—though Nulla thinks he may have reacted like that too if he’d woken up in a similar situation.

When Nulla had taken blood up yesterday though, the door had been locked from inside. He’d knocked and moments later, the door had cracked open just wide enough for a long pale muscled arm to reach out and take the cooler from him.

The door had shut right after and the sound of the lock turning echoed in the hallway.

Clearly the blood has helped. Whereas the vampire’s skin had been leathered before, bordering on mummy-like, from that brief glimpse of the vampire’s arm, healing had already begun. When he’d taken the cooler from Nulla, his hand—barring the needle point nails—had looked very much as if it could belong to a human.

That had been last night. Nulla hasn’t heard a peep from him since.

Satisfied that the vampire is where he should be, he turns his attention to other inhabitants of the Sanctuary.

The previous morning Nulla had agreed to allow the Sanctuary to return to operations as normal during sunrise. At least during daytime they’d have an additional fail safe should something happen with their current wards.

Hope had clearly been relieved. She’d recovered from the depleting task of laying down complicated wards she had little-to-no experience with—it had taken a lot out of her. The skin beneath her eyes still had that dark, papery look but she’d been alert and clearly ready to stand her ground with Nulla if he’d refused.

Outside in the nave, he can hear Hope bringing a community meeting to a close, thanking them for coming.

Setting the spoon in the sink, he takes a sip of the hot tea, the smooth, fragrant taste of it wetting his tongue. A ghostly version of him mimics his actions on the window glass, coloured in flowers and grass and rain drops.

In the past couple of days, he’s grown certain that the blood he’d found in the Boundary belongs to the same Celestial whose death had brought Nulla out of his sleep prematurely and Evangelos’s consciousness to the surface.

A Prīmus like them.

Why was a Prīmus at the gates of the Fade to begin with? Evangelos mentioned Darsha to Nulla so it’s possible that the Prīmus had been there for the same reason as Nulla.

Except aside from the demons, no one had attempted to stop Nulla from going into the Fade or from pulling the spinner out. So that hadn’t been the reason.

There were very few people in existence with the ability to kill a Prīmus. The Grand Celestials who acted in the Creator’s stead, the Prīmus themselves—and maybe, given enough power, a Demon Lord or a New Celestial.

Darsha being reborn within the Fade as a spinner and locked up with a vampire dragged into it from the human realm. Ignácio missing and a sweeping wave of New Celestials disappearing.

He’s woken up into a world where all the pieces aren’t where they should be.

Since the moment he’d been cast out things changed. He’s had to learn a new way to be, find a new purpose, all whilst keeping the whispers at bay and prevent his descent into what Evangelos became. That’s still Nulla’s future.

As long as he’s kept to his pattern things have remained steady. Even as he’s learned to navigate loss again and again.

He hasn’t seen his brethren in centuries. Yes, he’s crossed paths with New Celestials many times. They’ve made no secret of their regard for him.

Betrayer. Fallen.

Till this day he’s not sure what the Grand Celestials gave as a reason for his expulsion and for the punishment they’d given him.

It had been unprecedented.

To this day, he still opens his eyes in the middle of the night, skin beaded in sweat and eyes burning, trapped in a phantom agony. In those moments it’s as if his body forgets he can see again.

That one day had changed his entire existence but he’d never had any of his brothers reach out to him. By that time Evangelos, the only one who shared his faith had already descended.

The Night Market can connect one with many extraordinary people and there are mediators with incredible gifts that can find out or learn all sorts of things. Most of them for a price. But none of them can connect to the Celestials. And the New Celestials won’t share anything they don’t want to and for his part, Nulla stays out of their way, knowing that he isn’t welcome.

But he might have to make an exception this time.

He’s heard rumours of places they gather in within the human realm. Places that in his opinion they have no business being in. Their only reason for being in the human realm is to serve. And if they’re not doing that then they shouldn’t be anywhere near it.

But as a Fallen, he has no right to intervene. 

From what he’s seen the last couple of days though, staying out of whatever is happening is no longer a choice.

He’ll have to secure the spinner first. The vampire too. He won’t be able to wander around freely with them here. Something could always go wrong.

And he doesn’t want the spinner to be alone when she dies.

He swallows at the thought, his chest hollowing out. He meets his own gaze as he pushes the emotion down and takes another drink.

Hope is still talking to people as she sees them out of the Sanctuary, though she seems to be speaking with one person in particular. There’s a note of concern in her voice as she insists on seeing them out.

He tilts his head, curious and intending to listen in on what Hope says next when he hears the side door into the Sanctuary open and the familiar tread of Poe’s boots echoing in the hallway.

The Hellhound lifts her head, the low roll of a growl rumbling from her throat as she turns it in the direction of Poe’s steps.

Poe glances down at her with a frown as he passes but doesn’t slow. He leaves damp boot prints in his wake.

His expression is pinched which isn’t surprising considering he’s been like that since the night he’d come to help Hope with getting Nulla back. It might be related to now having to also source blood for a vampire whose presence he doesn’t approve of.

This time Nulla notes he’s not carrying the cooler he’s brought back with him the last couple of nights. The rain mac he’s wearing is zipped up to his throat, only his face visible. The black hood is drawn tight around his face, the strings tied off beneath his sharp chin. Rain runs off him in rivulets and drips onto the floor which he doesn’t seem to notice—most likely he just doesn’t care.

‘Glad someone’s relaxed,’ Poe says, stepping into the kitchen. He pulls the hood off his head and drags one of the chairs back from the table, then sits down with a heavy sigh.

Nulla leans back against the counter and crosses his ankles as he takes another sip of his tea.

‘You’re earlier than I expected today,’ Nulla says.

Poe unzips the mac and shrugs it off, his movements jerky and abrupt. He drapes it over the back of the chair and then runs his fingers through his hair, which despite the hood has gotten a little wet.

‘I heard some things you should know, and you still don’t know how to properly use your phone.’

Nulla blinks at him and looks around because now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t know where he’s left it. ‘I think it might be in my room…?’

Poe ignores him. ‘I think I have a good idea of who you’ve got up there, mate.’

Nulla finishes his tea in a few gulps and sets it down. Hope is coming down the hallway now too and skirts around the Hellhound, though unlike Poe, she smiles down at her. He almost expects her to pat the hound on the head.

The smile quickly vanishes though as she spots Nulla. Her forehead creases and her jaw tenses.

‘I think something is going on with one of the people who came to the session today,’ she says.

The clock over the door ticks its way past 7:00 PM.

Overhead, the constant movement in the vampire’s room stops. Nulla picks up the rasping sounds of the vampire gulping down air. But with each one, the length between each one gets longer. This had happened yesterday too. Whatever afflicts him during sunup is leaving his body.

‘Not so fast,’ Poe says, looking up at Hope when she stops by his chair, ‘I was here first.’

Hope flicks him an annoyed look and when he doesn’t say anything crosses her arms and arcs an eyebrow.

Poe turns back to Nulla. The jumper he’s wearing—grey, oversized and riddled with holes—slips off one of his shoulders but Poe doesn’t bother righting it. ‘Some of the things you said about him—’

‘Who?’ Hope asks.

‘Your fanged guest upstairs,’ Poe says, ‘some of the things you said, the way he resists sunlight, that he’s from a court in France—all of this sounded familiar. We don’t really get much info about the vampires. They’re not really a thing here and they stick close to their own, only come out to grab themselves a little snack. Sometimes though the ones lower down on the food chain get bored and come out to mess with humans.’

Nulla waits. So far this all tracks with how he’s always known vampires to be. 

They were adept at luring people to them and so didn’t have to venture far out of their strongholds. Not unless they wanted to. Or as Poe says, when they’re bored.

‘But a vampire that resists the sunlight isn’t exactly a small detail, you know. You remember there was talk a while back that all the boss level vamps were pissed off about a new court emerging in France?’

Nulla nods.

‘Ever wondered why no one did nothing about them? They’re not the most tolerant creatures.’

‘I never looked into it,’ Nulla says, shrugging, ‘it was an issue within their own community. It’s not a Celestial’s place to intervene unless it’s had a major impact on the humans around them. The French court emerged after I was cast out. A New Celestial would have been charged with keeping an eye on them. So beyond the creation of a new court, I don’t have any other information.’

Poe starts bouncing the heel of his foot and grips the back of his chair. ‘That’s great but the reason no one made a move to wipe the new court off the face of the earth is because the court had a Grandmaster. One that fed from a Celestial and gained the ability to resist the sun.’

Nulla digests that and his eyes are drawn back up to the ceiling, as if he can see through it directly to the vampire’s room.

‘Apparently the others didn’t come for him because if he wanted to, he could rock up to their courts and murder them in their sleep. He had the existing Grandmasters watching their back.’

Hope is staring blankly at Poe like she can’t comprehend what he’s saying.

‘And that’s not the end of it,’ Poe says, scooting to the edge of his chair, hands coming down to grip the edge of it, ‘he didn’t stop with the Celestial he drank from. Apparently, this same Grandmaster is still out there killing Celestials. It’s one of his favourite pastimes.’

He stops there, staring at Nulla, grim faced.

Hope breathes out a slow breath, and she looks from Poe to Nulla. ‘Is he saying that’s who we have upstairs?’

‘Yeah,’ Poe says, staring hard at Nulla, ‘that’s exactly what I’m saying.’