Raizel had been expeg something—anything—from this visit. A challenge, a bit of amusement, maybe even an iing versation.

  Instead, he got this.

  A room full of vampires ag like nervous interns waiting for their performance review.

  He sighed internally. What a letdown.

  His gaze moved toward Edward, who still had his head bowed, probably trying to vince himself that if he stayed still enough, Raizel would fet he existed.

  Coward.

  Raizel had never found Edarticurly iing. This old brat was teically over a tury old, yet still carried himself with the existential crisis of a brooding teenager. Pathetic.

  Losing i, Raizel turned his attention to Carlisle. "Have you e across those responsible for the animal attacks?"

  Carlisle g his family before responding carefully, "No, we haven't, my lord."

  Raizel almost sighed out loud. My lord?

  "I believe you gentleme among them," Raizel tihough the sheer boredom in his voice made it sound like he was talking about the weather. "The eyes I see are not the same as those who feed on human blood. That's enough for me. But if you e across them, inform Fraein."

  Carlisle nodded again, but Raizel could practically hear the maally rewriting everythihought he knew about Fraein.

  Raizel turned his gaze to Alice. "You might have seen me ing."

  Alinly nodded. "I did."

  Raizel frowhat was it? No witty remark? Just quiet acceptance?

  What a letdown.

  Seeing no further eaio be had, Raizel rose from his seat. "Thank you for your time," he said ftly, already turning to leave.

  Then, because he figured he should at least pretend to be polite, he extended a hand toward Edward.

  What he did not expect was Edward reag like he had just been handed a live grenade.

  Edward flinched. His hand twitched, as if debating whether to sp Raizel's away, before his face torted into something that looked like a mix of defiand immediate regret.

  For a sed, there was silence.

  Then the room trembled.

  The floor vibrated. The bookshelves shuddered. A few decorative objects hovered just slightly before dropping bato pce.

  Carlisle, proving that he was the only one in the house with funing survival instincts, dropped to one knee immediately. "Please five us for any offense."

  Raizel exhaled through his his was exactly why he avoided iing with teenagers.

  With a shake of his head, he turoward Edward a him with a simple, parting remark:

  "Boy, don't get hurt."

  Edward remained silent, though he looked vaguely offended by the boy ent.

  Fraein, sensing that this visit had long overstayed its wele, moved ahead to open the car door.

  Raizel got in without another wiving Carlisle o ghe doctor nodded in farewell, looking slightly relieved that they had survived the enter.

  Fraein got into the driver's seat, gave a small wave toward Carlisle, and started driving.

  .....

  For a while, there was silence.

  He kept his eyes on the road, but his grip oeering wheel tightened.

  A normal person wouldn't have noticed.

  Raizel was not a normal person.

  "I believe something is b you, Fraein," he said, with a kind of certainty.

  Fraein, who had speuries perfeg the art of pretending nothing was ever wrong, summoned his best everything is fine smile. "It's nothing, Master. Just some minor matters I'm s out."

  Raizel didn't respond.

  Fraein hated that.

  That was worse.

  See, silence from most people meant they'd moved on. Silence from Raizel meant he was still looking. Still thinking.

  Fraeien whole seds before Raizel did what could only be described as stepping over every boundary of personal spad invading his actual brain.

  Fraein stiffened.

  "Master." His voice olite, but uhat politeness lurked the very real se of I would appreciate it if you would STOP doing that.

  Raizel, being Jay, ignored him entirely.

  There was no dramatic rea, no wide-eyed shoo gasp of horror—just the slightest shift in his expression, so minor that no one else would have noticed.

  Fraein noticed.

  And then Raizel, in the casual tone of someone enting on the weather, said:

  "Pull over."

  Fraein inhaled deeply. He sidered ign that, because let's be ho, when had pulling over ever led to good things?

  But Raizel had just read his mind, and there was no ce Fraein could get away with pretending he hadn't heard.

  So, with the air of a man resigo his fate, he guided the car to a smooth stop. Raizel stepped out with the same unshaken grace he always kept, and Fraein—knowing that whatever this was, he was already in too deep—followed.

  The night air was cool. The road was empty.

  The situation, however, was not good.

  Raizel turned, looking at him with that unreadable expression. "Fraein."

  There was a tone to that.

  "…Yes, Master?"

  Then, still in that same calm, pletely infuriating voice, Raizel said:

  "I sealed away my memories."

  And he lied. Without hesitation. Withret. Without even blinking.

  Fraein's brain came to a halt.

  And then, a sed ter, restarted with a distind deeply exasperated:

  I beg your pardon?

  He stared at his master. His old, impossibly powerful, never-lost-a-battle, never-shown-weakness master.

  And this man—this a noble of supreme might—was now g to have personally, deliberately, on purpose, wiped his own memories.

  Fraein took a deep breath. Then another.

  "Master." He pihe bridge of his nose, said "Do you expebsp;me to believe that?"

  Raizel remaihe same. "It is the truth."

  Ah. So we're doubling down on the nonsense.

  Fraein exhaled sharply again. "Even if that were true—and I'm not saying it is—why—" He stopped. No. No, he already khere was no point in asking. Because no matter what the reason was, Raizel wasn't going to tell him anyway.

  Raizel simply watched him. Silent.

  Not because he refused to expin.

  But because he had no expnation to give.

  It was a lie. A very polished, well-delivered lie. A lie for the sake of maintaining the mystique.

  Fraein ched his jaw. He had fought wars. He had faobles and werewolves. He had survived things no human should survive.

  But somehow, somehow, this versation was what ushing him to his limit.

  Raizel spoke again, his voice slower this time.

  "The person you have been serving is no lohe same," he said. "The past that defined me is now gone." A pause. Then, thoughtfully, he added, "But perhaps I am different. heless, that does not ge who I am. And in the end, I will remain the same."

  There was a weight to those words.

  Fraei it settle between them.

  He looked at Raizel for a long, long moment.

  And then, with the deep, world-weary exhaustion of a man who had absolutely had it, he simply said:

  "Master… You could have led with that."

  Raizel blinked.

  Fraein shook his head, muttering something under his breath about how of course Raizel would phrase it in the most dramatic ossible.

  Raizel tilted his head slightly. "Does it bother you?"

  Fraein stared at him. Then he sighed, long and slow. "Master, at this point, nothing surprises me anymore."

  Raizel sidered that.

  And then, for the briefest of moments—he almost, almost—smiled.

  Without another word, he turned and walked back toward the car.

  Fraein stood there for a sed longer, staring up at the sky, internally calg if it was too te to just walk into the sea ahe tide carry him away.

  Then, with o, long-suffering breath, he followed.

  As he slid bato the driver's seat, he spared Raizel a gnce. "At the very least, I hope you didn't fet how to drink tea. I don't think I could hahat level of catastrophe, Master."

  Raizel didn't respond.

  Which meant he was absolutely thinking about it.

  Fraein sighed.

  The car rolled forward once more, the night stretg ahead, quiet and vast—

  —and far from peaceful.