Page 24 of Luna

As soon as I’m holding all of the painting’s weight, I stumble. I turn around and stagger toward the bed before letting it fall.

It lands with a soft thud.

And daylight floods the room.

When I turn around, rubbing my arms, breathing heavily, I blink and shield my eyes.

The painting was hiding a window, and beyond the window, the sun is rising against a bright pink sky.

This time, I do let myself cry.

Because maybe I just found my way out of here.

Chapter 8

Kim

The first time I came to Lucien’s mansion, I could barely bring myself to step over the threshold. The place is so thick with dark supernatural energy that I almost choked on it.

When I first started hunting demons, and became aware of my powers, I would have run screaming from a place like this. But these days, things are different. I’m starting to embrace who I am, and instead of repelling me or congealing like toxic waste in my veins, the darkness calls to me.

Pulls me closer.

Like it is trying to seduce me but doesn’t realize I’m tricking it into a false sense of security. Allowing it to envelop me tighter and tighter until… SNAP.

I destroy it.

This mainly applies to demons, not vampires.

Part of my deal with Lucien is that the vamps are left largely alone. Not just because there’s debate about whether or not they are demons, but because he claims to have them under control.

I am not so sure. Especially lately. The past few months, it hasn’t been the demons causing havoc in the city; it has been rogue vampires. And his usual methods of keeping them on their best behavior don’t seem to be working.

I press the buzzer next to the large, wrought iron gates. Trent answers. He’s a slimy bastard. A werewolf, which surprises me because historically Thornfield hasn’t been able to abide werewolves.

Apparently, though, Trent is different. He rescued him as a pup. Indoctrinated him into the Firm.

Honestly, I still don’t really understand all this stuff.

“What do you want?” Trent barks down the speaker.

“Thornfield sent for me.”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“He doesn’t tell you everything.” I roll my eyes, stifling a yawn. It’s too early and I’m too grouchy for this sort of back and forth. Trent hates that Lucien has brought me into his inner circle when we’ve only known each other a short while. I hate that Trent exists.

It is a mutually egregious relationship.

Huffing at me, Trent unlocks the gates. They swing open, exposing a long straight driveway lined by silver birch trees. A strange mist lingers between them. Above, the sun is starting to rise. It is going to be the kind of cold, crisp winter’s day that makes England look peaceful and majestic.

I get back into the car and drive through slowly.

Up ahead, the mansion looms into view. Thornfield tells me it has been in his family for centuries. Perhaps there was a time when a larger nest of vampires lived here, but now it is just him. His staff don’t even live here. He has a few security guys, and girls, and a gardener. That’s it. Apart from me, I suppose.

None of us live on site. He calls us if he needs us, and we come running.

That’s the deal with Thornfield.