Vail paced restlessly in his bedroom. He had just finished reading the message that Victoria had sent to him about an hour ago, but instead of sleeping afterward like he had planned, he was kept awake by the discovery that the Wynters would be arriving in London much sooner than anyone had anticipated. His eyes fell on the glass bottle that she had given him, which sat untouched on his bedside table. Knowing now that she had likely drawn her blood to give him strength if the rival clan attacked the Hygraces, he was concerned that the Wynters would be here so soon that she believed they wouldn’t see each other again until after the battle. Aside from the fact that he disliked the thought of waiting to make sure she was okay, it also meant that he only had one or two more days left to convince Peter that there was a threat at all. Even if his mulish father finally realized the danger was real, they wouldn’t be able to pull the clan together in time to fight back. Time had run out.

Frustrated, he stopped pacing and dragged both hands over his head with a low groan. It felt like he had been backed into a wall. He had done everything he could to convince Peter that they needed to bolster their defenses or even just stay [i]alert[/i] if nothing else, but the patriarch had refused to compromise. Now, there was no telling what the Wynters would do to them, because they weren’t ready to protect their status as the ruling clan in England. He couldn’t bear to watch his relatives get slaughtered by the other vampires in a second massacre. He had to try to persuade his father to listen to reason one more time.

The sun had set not long ago, but Vail knew that Peter usually stayed up to read and unwind before he turned in for the night. If there was ever a good time to approach the elder vampire, it was now. He headed to his parents’ shared room down the hall and knocked on the door, determined to give it one more shot. His cousins had made it abundantly clear that they wouldn’t listen to his orders, so he had to win the clan leader over or come up with some other way to cut the Wynters off before they could reach their home.

After a pause, his mother answered the door. “Vail?” she frowned at him in surprise. He was an independent spirit who rarely stopped by their quarters without a good reason. “Is something the matter?”

“Potentially,” he answered, not waiting for permission to come inside. Peter, who had been sitting in his reading nook, looked up at his son with furrowed brows. His cryptic reply seemed to have piqued the clan leader’s interest, at least. He turned to his father with a serious expression, “The Wynter clan is gathering forces in Southampton as we speak. This is no longer a distant threat, father. It’s a declaration of war, and we need to treat it as such or they’re going to run our family into the ground before the end of the week.”

“This again?” Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. “The Wynters are not gathering to attack us, Vail. They’ve made enemies of the Order. If they really are plotting to fight, their targets are the Saints who’ve been curbing their attempts to gain power.”

“And you don’t think they’ll use this opportunity to dethrone the dynasty that has prevented them from securing dominion in England for the last four hundred years?” Vail challenged, taking a slow breath to control the anger that colored his voice. He was losing his patience after repeating the same reasons and warnings to the patriarch for a week. “You said it yourself. They’re after power, and they’ve always seen us as an obstacle. In their eyes, we’re weak for compromising with the Order and letting our prey live. The Wynters want to instate vampires as the apex species, to enslave humans as nothing more than a food source for our kind, and to have dominion over the country. We both know that their utopia will never come to pass. They’re just going to cause even more bloodshed, and we’re the only clan still standing in their way. Why the hell [i]wouldn’t[/i] they attack us?”

Peter was quiet for a long moment before he looked away. “Because we haven’t stood in their way for quite some time now,” he finally answered. “I’ve decided to let them play out the rest of their foolish game and make war with the humans. We will continue to stay out of it, as we have for the last century. I trust that the Saints will put them in their place faster than you think.”

“What is wrong with you?” Vail stared at Peter incredulously. “Are you really willing to put our entire family at risk because you don’t want to stand up and fight? This isn’t what uncle wanted when he chose you to succeed him.”

“There is far more risk in fighting than there is in keeping our noses to ourselves,” the clan leader insisted with a finality to his tone that told the heir he wouldn’t be changing his mind.

Vail clenched his fists at his sides, trembling slightly with fury. He could see now that there was no getting through to the stubborn vampire. Peter wouldn’t see the danger even if it slapped him across the face. Too frustrated to keep arguing with his father, he took a step back toward the door. “Coward,” he spat, spinning on his heel while Peter barked his name angrily behind him. He ignored the demand to come back and returned to his own room before either of his parents could stop him. Certain now that he was on his own, he would just have to take matters into his own hands. He just hoped his efforts would be enough.

--

For the rest of the night, Vail got what sleep he could until he rose again when the sky outside began to slowly lighten with the approach of dawn. He had come to the realization that if he was going to stand up against the Wynters, he was going to need allies. So, he’d reversed his resting cycle for the day in preparation to leave the Hygrace manor during daylight hours. As he slid his arm into the sleeve of his coat, his heart hammered in his chest. Seeing Victoria against his father’s wishes had been rebellious enough, but this time, he was going to be participating in a war that the clan leader had expressly forbidden him from taking part in. It was open betrayal, but he couldn’t sit by and do nothing just because Peter was too afraid to step out of line. He had to do what he knew was right.

Ruminating on the thought so his resolve wouldn’t waver, he slipped out of the manor before the rest of his family had risen and walked briskly to the Crest estate under the cover of twilight. The trip itself was easy, but when the familiar building came into view, he slowed to a stop beyond the gates. There were far more people about than there had been the last time he’d come by, and the odor of silver hung thickly in the air. He hesitated, feeling like a stag approaching a pride of lions. Even though he was strong in comparison with others of his kind, he was no match for a small army of trained hunters. If Victoria hadn’t told him that he was welcome in her home, he would have turned back the instant he’d seen the numerous carriages outside the manor. Instead, he squared his shoulders, adjusted his top hat, and strode onto the property to knock on the door despite the way his skin crawled at the stink of Saints.