Vere could never find out. Mostly, they knew Edie liked her privacy, and didn’t ask questions if Edie had an evening when she was unreachable.

This meeting wasn’t technically anything bad. It wasn’t strictly hurting Vere, although it was certainly a challenge to VADR itself. But ultimately, she was just meeting with her dad, right?

As far as Vere knew, Edie hadn’t spoken with her dad for over a decade. When she had been removed from her home and placed in VADR custody, they’d barely let her call him. Even though she’d only endured the death of one parent, she’d basically become an orphan overnight because VADR had deemed her father too dangerous for her to be around.

Truthfully, her life with him and her mom in Tenebrose had been sweet and simple. Her dad was quiet, kind, and clever, whereas her mother had been bright as a bonfire and just as fiery. Losing her mother to violence had been staggering. Losing her father because of VADR had been… baffling. Paralyzing. Once she was done with college two years ago, keeping him out of her life stopped serving a purpose. So she started coming back home, to Tenebrose.

Edie blended in just fine in Tenebrose. The nocturnal city was built directly underneath Eldwick. What struck Edie first any time she came down here was how quiet it was compared to Eldwick. Cars were out of the question given they would prove toxic, so folks got around on foot, bicycle, or via taxi boats that followed a system of canals. It made the whole city quite shiny, the water reflecting the many neon lights and street lamps that lined the footpaths. Many of the windows were stained glass, casting colorful light over the onyx stones that forged the city.

She always met her dad at Merlin’s Pub, which was easily the most popular establishment in Tenebrose and was built right at the center of town. Since Tenebrose was underground, it still mostly kept waking and sleeping hours like Eldwick, but a number of the underground city’s residents worked topside in overnight positions in hospitals, security roles, or any number of other 24-hour facilities.

It was just after six when her gondola glided up to the dock and the gondolier pulled them in with his oar. The slender boat rocked her a little more than she liked. The imp’s leathery red hand was a relief when he held it out to her to help her off the water.

After giving him an extra tip, she headed for the bright yellow sign glowing up ahead. Merlin’s crowds could never surprise Edie, and her dad always got them the same booth nestled in the front corner by an old fireplace and away from the bay of televisions playing noisy sports channels. Said table was empty when Edie came through the doorway and into the shadowy pub, but she heard her dad’s silky chuckle and followed it to the bar. Not surprisingly, he was chatting up the pretty ebony-haired bartender, who was trying to pretend not to be absolutely smitten with him.

Objectively, Edie understood why everyone drooled over Alan Thorn. He was tall and limber, with thick, dark hair and a quick tongue, and eyes so bright blue they were like stars. Alan had a timeless, classic fashion sense and had raised Edie the same way, give or take a grungy alternative edge on Edie’s part.

What made Alan one of the most recognizable vampires in the region wasn’t a brooding cape, his pallor, or his sharp smile. It was reputation alone. Folks across both Tenebrose and Eldwick knew of the legendary vampire journalist Alan Thorn. Having just celebrated his two-hundred-and-third birthday, he’d had plenty of decades to cement his name in society, either as the resident rogue or fearless defender of truth, depending on who you asked.

Edie approached the bar with a put-upon sigh, dropping her elbow onto the counter and her chin onto her fist. “Dad.”

Alan spun to face her, graceful as a shadow. “Eadgyth! The light of my life.” He knew better than to hug her, but Edie could tell he was holding himself back from doing so. He turned back to the bartender, sweeping his hand off the counter and bringing it to his lips. “I must depart. My progeny will always be my priority.”

The bartender, his lips painted a rich burgundy, couldn’t help but grin as he snatched his hand away. He gave Edie a more intentional smile; they recognized each other from Edie’s regular visits.

Alan somehow managed to guide Edie toward their booth without actually touching her back. It was a feat she admired even though his chivalry drove her crazy.

“This one was a hard night to sneak away from Vere,” Edie said as she sat down and piled her winter gear on the cushion next to her. “They’ve been staying at my place—”

“‘They’?” Alan’s eyebrows went up on his prominent brow.

“Oh, yeah—they’ve only come out to me, but… it’s official.”

“About time.” Alan grinned.

“I know, right?” Edie squeaked, leaning across the table.

“You know what would make our dinners a lot easier?” asked Alan casually, stretching out across his booth with languid grace. “If you didn’t keep me a secret.”

Edie scoffed. “I work at VADR.”

Alan’s expression sharpened, his face angled toward the pub but his gaze flicking toward Edie. “I am not an enemy of the valkyries.”

“They seem to believe differently!”

“Blame Agrippa for that.” Alan’s smile was relentless, unflinching. He was positive he was right. And in his handsome, tailored blazer and gauzy button-down, he looked like there was no way he could be wrong.

Edie rolled her eyes, surrendering her argument. It was becoming more difficult every day to ignore Alan’s convictions. She was starting to wonder if she was working for the wrong people.

“So,” began Alan, leaning forward to prop his elbows on the table, lacing his long fingers together, “how are Orion and Bellamy getting along?” He grinned, flashing fangs.

Part of Edie regretted involving her dad in her matchmaking efforts. But she’d already told him about trying to get Orion and Bellamy together at Shimmer, and she’d texted him immediately after Orion had shown up at VADR as a new hire. It was pointless to regret it, and it was good to be able to talk about her stupid friend drama.

“Oh, my gods,” she whispered conspiratorially, “Orion took it upon himself to move Bellamy into the fancy office that Williams gave him. Bellamy caught him in the act with an armful of his stuff! Now they’re gonna be sharing an office.”

“No!” Alan gasped, clutching his chest. “That is a classic gentleman move. They’re inevitable.”

“I know,” Edie giggled. The easy comfort of the shared drama settled heavily in the pit of her stomach. She sobered, her smile fading.

Alan noticed immediately. “What?”

The worst part about her meetings in Tenebrose was that, every time, she realized how easily Alan could fit into her life if only she’d let him. He could meet her friends—he could actually get to know Vere. For as much of a reputable, busy man as Alan Thorn was, Edie knew that he would drop everything if she asked him to spend time with her.

Their server materialized next to the table before Edie could answer his question. They had the same two or three people who served them most times they were at Merlin’s, and this time it was the specter named Jeremy. He waved at Edie, his little ectoplasmic notebook poised and ready in case Edie wanted anything besides her usual.

“Jeremy,” said Alan with a smile. “You know what I’d like, please.”

Jeremy nodded, his empty eye sockets sparking with ruby hell-fire, which was his version of a cheerful smile.

“I think I just want bread,” sighed Edie.

“Eadgyth,” reprimanded Alan with a shake of his head. He glanced from her back to Jeremy. “She needs a drink, too. One-third, please.”

Jeremy nodded, not looking to Edie for her consent. His blue-gray form melted into nothing with a waft of chilly air making Edie shiver.

“You either need to see me more, or start supplementing your diet yourself,” Alan said firmly. “You shouldn’t smell so… mortal. What is that—stale coffee and printer toner?”

Opting to ignore the weird insult, Edie chewed her lip. “I just don’t know about any of that around the valkyries…”

“I thought you’ve said VADR employs all species,” Alan said drily. “You have dietary requirements, Eadgyth.”

“Please call me Edie,” she groaned.

“But I named you Eadgyth.” Alan said it with no heat. A simple fact. Why wouldn’t he call his daughter by her given name? “Drinking blood is not a moral act,” Alan continued. “Valkyries must wear adaptive clothing to fit their wings. Jeremy must return to his tombstone every night to replenish himself. Vampires must consume blood to stay healthy.” He raised an eyebrow as he said gently, “Nobody is asking you to slaughter someone.”

Edie dropped her head. “I know.” Just because those were the facts didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be judgment from the valkyries if she were to… you know, act like a vampire around them.

“Did you know,” continued Alan in the same nonchalant tone, “that when I was your age, there was no animosity on any systemic level between VADR and Tenebrose? By and large, it’s been conflated by geographical barriers and inter-species racism.”

Edie gazed across the table at her father. When they had first reunited, it had been hard for her to admit to him that she had returned to VADR to work. She hadn’t been sure how he’d feel about that given how VADR had separated them when she was a kid.

It was almost like she’d forgotten who she was talking to. Alan Thorn never got mad. He was never even unkind. He spoke about what happened in Edie’s youth very little, but never stopped Edie from talking about her life as a ward. When she’d first reached out to him a few years ago, it was hesitantly. She was ashamed to tell him that her best friend was a valkyrie, or that she didn’t resent VADR. But her misgivings had been for nothing. He’d never held any of it against her.

In fact, the question Alan posed now in front of her was the first time he’d ever said anything of the kind. Any allusion to his past, or anything that remotely approached a criticism of VADR—he stayed away from it.

“That’s all I’ll say,” Alan concluded softly as Edie’s silence kept stretching.

Edie swallowed. She nodded faintly. “It’s okay. That’s… It’s not that I ever think you’re wrong.”

Alan said nothing for a moment, searching Edie’s features with his eerily bright gaze. “You’re not wrong either, Edie.”

Hearing him use her nickname was almost more unsettling than his gaze. Fortunately, Jeremy returned with their drinks. Edie could smell the sharp tang wafting from both glasses, doing her best to ignore the way it made her stomach heave. Jeremy set a basket of bread down in front of her just in time. Herbed butter and the warm smell of carbs settled her trembling muscles.

“Thank you, Jeremy,” purred Alan. Most specters were fairly asexual, but Jeremy still wiggled happily at Alan’s warm tone.

Edie gazed mournfully at her cocktail. The decadent martini had chocolate shavings on the rim and drizzles inside the glass that contrasted pleasantly with the burgundy drink.

“Red velvet martini.” Alan nodded to it, smiling faintly.

“Oh my gods, that sounds so yummy,” groaned Edie. She picked it up and sniffed it. “Is the blood strong…?”

“Currently, the FDA recommends five percent blood per eight ounces of fluid for half-vampires,” answered Alan. “Most half-vampires say they feel strongest if they drink that at least three times a week.”

Edie nodded slowly.

Alan pushed a pill bottle halfway across the table and then withdrew his hand to pick up his own cup. “One tablet should dissolve easily in your drink of choice. All of the caplets are ethically sourced.” He took a serene drink from his glass, watching Edie over the rim. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“‘Ethically sourced’,” Edie whimpered, then tore a piece of pumpernickel baguette in half and smothered it with butter. She shoved it into her mouth and hoped that the tender bread could distract her from the images of writhing, moaning thralls conjured by her father’s words.

“Eadgyth,” sighed Alan, “you need to talk to more vampires. Even half-vampires.”

“I wo’ fo’ VADR!” Edie didn’t wait till she had swallowed her mouthful before she picked up her drink and slammed it back. Alcohol, bread, and the unpleasant lacing of blood blended terribly in her mouth and made her eyes sting. She couldn’t afford to cry. This late in the day, her eyeliner would be decimated by a single drip on her lashes.

Edie finished chewing, then picked up her napkin and aggressively rubbed her lips. Warmth pooled down her throat and into her stomach. Some kind of buzzing strength, too. It wasn’t like she’d never consumed any human blood, but…

Her throat tightened at this confusing rush of feelings. “I’m sorry, Dad, but I’m feeling tired. I’m gonna head home.”

“Eadgyth, don’t leave so quickly.” Alan’s expression was pained; his brow creased. An anxious hand shot through his dark locks. Even when Edie was a little kid, that maneuver had always been one of his only tells when he’d been uneasy. The only crack in his veneer of controlled calm.

“I’ll text you tomorrow.” Edie dropped her gaze. She’d lose her resolve and stay if she looked into his eyes even one more time. It probably wasn’t some kind of vampire hypnosis that still worked on her human half. Right?

As she scooted out of the booth and stood up, she let her gaze wander to the pill bottle. Pursing her lips, she shot out her hand and snatched up the bottle.

“Thanks,” she muttered, and left Alan wearing the same expression he’d had on his face when they’d taken her away. Wounded. Heartbroken. Like she was the only person in the world he needed in order to survive, and she’d left him to his execution.