At the sound of a distant knock on the front door, Vail paused in what he was doing and turned curiously toward the hall. As far as he knew, no one among his family was expecting any visitors. Deciding it was probably a vampire from another clan who had come to seek sanctuary with the Hygraces, he resumed fastening the buttons on his coat. His mother always took care of the refugees who needed them, and he didn’t need to stay to help her. This evening, the only matter on his mind was finding out why Victoria had yet to reach out to him. He wasn’t entirely certain how he would get ahold of her when she was probably still among Saints in the Crest manor, but he was determined to try.

As soon as he was dressed to leave, he stepped over to his bedroom door and then halted again. There was a new scent in the air, but it didn’t belong to another vampire. Rather, it almost smelled like Victoria. He wavered with one hand on the knob, momentarily shocked as he wondered if the Crest heiress was really bold enough to show her face at the Hygrace manor after Peter had expressed his rabid dislike of her. However, his initial surprise faded when he realized the spoor wasn’t identical to the Crest heiress’s. It was merely similar, denoting a blood relative.

Intrigued and perplexed by the appearance of a Crest whom was not Victoria, he made his way downstairs to find out what was going on. Faintly, he picked up Ray’s familiar cologne as well and set his jaw, put off by the return of the Saint who had sent a bullet through his shoulder. The Lord’s return wasn’t unexpected though, and he seemed to be further away than the individual who had knocked on the door. He was probably just here to offer protection.

Vail reached the foyer just as the maid closed the door and walked off to fetch Peter. He tracked her with his eyes until she disappeared from sight and then turned back to the portal. The visitor had obviously come to speak with the head of the clan, but it would take a minute before his father came downstairs to speak with her. He opened the door.

On the other side was a middle aged woman who reminded him instantaneously of Victoria. He studied her face, snared by the blue in her eyes that made him envision the Crest heiress’s more youthful visage. Her name had slipped his mind currently, but he knew he was gazing upon Victoria’s mother, Lord Alexander’s widow.

“Lady Crest,” he greeted her after a moment of silence, coming back to himself. “To what do we owe this visit?”