Prologue

The only thing more troubling than the realization I was waking up in a dark alleyway without remembering how I got there was the blood I saw dripping from the tips of my fingers. I stole a quick glance, admiring the deep red coating my pale skin, and watched each viscous drop land in a pool forming at my feet.

To say it was the last thing I expected to find might be overstating the matter, but at the time I found myself mesmerized by the sight, wondering for the briefest of moments whose blood that might be. A quick glance further down the alley, though, brought with it the vision of a woman lying face down on the pavement, a thin river of crimson trickling from her corpse and mixing with the water of a light, cold rain. It was as though the mere sight of a dead body inspired a tidal wave of epiphany. I shut my eyes, but swore silently underneath my breath, knowing then and there whose handiwork I was admiring mere seconds after resuming my place as the dominant personality.

As always, she noticed it before I had a chance to chastise him.

"Oh, it's you again." She did not bother concealing the disappointment in her voice, which would have made more of an impact had she not caught me still at a loss. I lifted my eyes to regard her, seeing the obsidian siren I had been dating for several months staring back at me from the other side. Her hands settled on her hips, the hue of her complexion less of a stark contrast against her tight, black dress than my pallor was compared to my dark suit. Perhaps a testimony toward how well she ate.

I sighed, glancing back at my hand again. "Yes, it is me," I murmured, wondering how to clean the mess he had left. A quick perusal of my wool coat revealed no holes in the fabric and I felt no evidence of any injury to my arm. As I looked back at Celine, I saw her holding one of my – his – daggers and frowned reflexively. They had been toying with the human prior to disposing of her.

And Flynn had left me to clean up the mess.

Shaking the blood from my hand, I dug into the folds of my coat with my other hand, producing the white handkerchief I kept tucked in the breast pocket of my suit jacket. As I worked on cleaning up the sticky mess, I had to wonder if another perfectly good suit had been ruined by my alter ego. If I wore this much of the depleted human on my hand, heaven only knew what they had been doing before I woke. With a heavy sigh punctuating my words, I shot a look of displeasure at my French paramour. "Please tell me we are nowhere near the coven estate."

She huffed, not motioning to move even when I began a brisk stroll toward the human. I felt her jade-colored eyes sink into my back like knives. "We haven't suddenly become careless, if that's what you mean."

"Suddenly." I bit my tongue from offering further commentary and crouched beside the woman, offering the deceased human a better appraisal. What had once been a prostitute or drug addict collected rain like an awning atop her tattered clothing. I mused briefly on the dead, wondering if she could see the undignified way she had been deposited on the ground. "We need to dispose of that –" I nodded at the body. "– And get the hell inside before anybody sees us."

"Very well," Celine groused. The sound of heels clicking on the ground stopped short of the mess and bore all the testimony I needed of how much assistance she would be providing. Tempted to sigh again, I held it in and lifted my handkerchief, wondering if depositing it with the human would provide any damning evidence. The inquiry joined a crowd of others, including the nagging question of why Flynn had chosen now to crawl back into the depths.

After fifteen years, this is what my life had become.

I balled the soiled fabric and shoved it into my pocket. Taking hold of the human, I hefted her into my arms and carried her as far from my person as I could, passing Celine on my way to an adjacent dumpster. Sirens blared in the distance, but the cacophony soothed me more than it unnerved me. If we were this far into Philadelphia, this meant we were nowhere near my brother Robin's watchful eye.

Still, I made certain to check the corpse over before tossing it aside. True to form, the bite marks on her neck had been slashed through with the dagger Celine held and the gashes visible made her look like a victim of a robbery more than it did the plaything she had actually been. In an instant, I relived events which felt a million years removed. I remembered my first hunt with Celine. I recalled how good it had felt to allow the vampire side I kept under lock and key loose for the first time in an eternity. Eight months ago, I thought myself a changed man with a new lease on life.

How quickly that had changed after so short an amount of time.

The woman hit the bottom of the dumpster with a dull thud, an eerie finality to her departure I thought only fitting given the circumstances. I dusted off my hands and when this failed to dispel the lingering bloodstains, I succumbed to wiping them against my coat. All the while, Celine remained silent, until we made eye contact again and I visibly choked back my frustration. "Dare I ask what happened?"

She shrugged. "One minute you and I were talking. I got up to change and the next thing I knew, you were walking up behind me with a cigarette lit." The corner of her mouth curled, lust smoldering in her eyes. "I knew it was Flynn the moment you mentioned toying with a prostitute in New Orleans."

I blinked, then perked an eyebrow. "New Orleans?"

"Oui." Celine chuckled, finally crossing the gap between us. She handed me back the knife – which I concealed under my coat, and wrapped one of her small hands around my upper arm. "You must have blacked out sooner than I thought. You and I were talking about taking a vacation."

"And you wished to go to New Orleans?"

She shrugged, but a taunting smile remained painted on her face. I did not know how to read it; if it was her daring me to succumb or to try stopping the two of them. "I haven't been in years. You said it sounded like fun."

"Flynn said it sounded like fun," I corrected. "And the man would have fun anywhere, so long as there was a human he could kill."

Celine rolled her eyes. "You're so hard on Diablo."

"And you calling him that only inflates his ego."

She licked her lips. Relinquishing her grip on my arm, she snaked in front of me, touching the lapel of my coat and allowing her fingertips to trail upward, to my shoulder. She stood several inches shorter than me, but most people did, and I had become accustomed to looking down and watching the taunts of women from an added vantage point.

Celine knew it, too. She pressed herself against me in just the right manner, ensuring a glance downward would lead to a gratuitous vision of her cleavage. Her free hand rested on my waist and I shivered, fighting the descent of fangs in an effort not to lose this war of wills so easily. I tasted each rebuttal I wished to offer, the assertions that they needed to be more careful, that one of these days, their recklessness would get me caught and I would have hell to pay for it. I saw a vision of Robin staring Flynn in the eyes and did not know what to tell him. My brother, who had been my keeper for these fifteen years of misery, and I had been lying to him the entire time.

She curled closer, though, and I lost the objections in the haze of seduction. She tilted her head, touching my neck with her lips and sparing no small amount of teeth as she suckled on my skin. I exhaled a shaky breath, eyes shutting and body tingling with the pinpricks of desire. One hand wrapped around her torso before I even noticed it happen and although I knew Flynn had already taken her – could wager that assumption by the way she looked at me when she mentioned their would-be tryst – I felt as though I had been starved for gratification. By the time she lifted her lips from their sensual exploration, I was lost.

I claimed those lips in a heated kiss.

One leg wrapped around my waist. She wrapped the other around me when I slid a hand under her backside and within moments, we denigrated to lusty exchanges and hard grinding, both of us desperate for the barrier of clothing to be removed. I lifted her skirt as she made quick work of my belt, and a short time following, I felt the slickness of her core surrounding me as I pinned her against an adjacent building. How nobody rounded the corner and saw us fucking like teenagers near a pool of blood defies me yet today, but as we both released, we found ourselves drenched with rain, alone as we had begun and with the evidence of who we were clear for the world to see.

I retracted my fangs, still tasting her blood in my mouth while a final shudder worked through my body. Hers remained exposed though and as our eyes met, I saw something in her gaze I could not interpret.

'Who you are, seer. Remember that the next time you try to fight me.'

I shut my eyes before she could see my reaction. The voice chiming in my mind was not hers; I heard his diction although the timbre of his tone resembled mine. Whether it was meant to be a lesson or a translation, I did not stop to ask. I simply parted from Celine and composed myself, hardly looking at her as she did the same.

Our eyes met finally as I finished buckling my belt and smoothed my coat back into place. She paused for a moment as though weighing a few comments and finding them all lacking in the end. The smile she flashed was a quick afterthought and followed simply by the words, "Let's go home, amour." I nodded, acquiescing, not certain what to say either. For once, I could not blame her entirely for my behavior. Instead, I let the silence reign between us, an uncomfortable companion all the way back to the coven estate.

By the time the gates of our residence came into view, I had cycled through a hundred different possible conversations. I wondered if I should finally explain myself to Celine, but then noted how much she hated when I spoke of the past. Each time I mentioned my late wife, I watched her turn away in revulsion and every time I tried to issue my discontent toward Flynn, she rallied to his defense. She failed to see the monster within me as pointedly as I did, and yet, could not appreciate why I saw him as such.

She did not see him drive a blade through Monica with a much calmer determination than I could have ever mustered.

As each explanation fell dead next to the point of its inception, we made our way to the gates and I explained to the guard that our 'midnight stroll' had been 'rather pleasant indeed'. He nodded while unlocking the door, and failed to stare at me with the curiosity I thought he should. One personality had departed, but the other arrived home and still the entire coven remained blissfully unaware. He bowed with respected toward Celine, and went back to his duties while she and I strolled up the path and to the double doors leading in to the sprawling mansion we all occupied. A litany of vampires passed us by, all bowing their head to me and Celine and addressing me as 'Master Peter.' I kept a neutral look on my face, even if I felt anything but.

Celine, on the other hand, seemed unaffected. She flirted with the others the same as ever, making a special effort to stop Robin as we approached his private quarters. I stiffened as he smiled and indulged her subtle passes with the same amiable air he always did. When he looked at me, I was taken aback. "Went out hunting again, I see," he said.

I nodded, mustering a halfhearted grin. In fifteen years, I had become a polished diplomat, but still could not summon much of a poker face for my older immortal brother. "Yes, we did. It seemed like a pleasant enough night for a stroll," I said.

He chuckled. His eyes drifted to the windows before returning to mine. "A cold, February rain hardly matches my ideal for a pleasant night, but to each, his own, dear brother." The smile faded, ghosting on his lips, but enough of a gesture for me to take notice. "How is my second-in-command tonight?"

"I am well, dear brother." My grin turned more forced, a hand resting on Celine's back as though to paint a picture which would not have existed naturally. "The night has been a welcomed respite, I must say."

"So it would seem." His gaze lingered on me for another moment, and although I had not taken back the telepathy I granted him all those years ago, he did not employ it to sate whatever doubts I saw written on his face. Instead, he nodded at Celine and me, flashing a brighter smile at her. "I have my own to take care of, so I'll bid you both adieu. A coven master's work is never done."

"And rarely appreciated, I'm sure, Master Robin," Celine said. She shot him a wink, which he politely ignored before turning to head back into his quarters. I fought against a frown, opting instead to retreat into my own room with Celine. The silence was a welcomed harbinger for the first time that night, shattered when the door shut and we walked past the ample sitting room my quarters boasted and into the bedroom.

She immediately reached for her zipper and began stripping off her dress. "You still haven't told him, yet, have you?" she asked.

This time, I succumbed to the sigh, removing my coat and tossing it onto a chair. As I unbuttoned my suit jacket, I spied the bloodstains which had bled through onto my shirt and noted to myself the suit itself was probably a loss as well. "No," I finally said, although I knew her question to be rhetorical. "And I would prefer not to tell him any time soon."

"It's going to come up eventually, you know." She continued talking even when I threw my jacket atop my coat and walked into the bathroom. I watched her toss her dress atop my discarded clothing and sit on the bed so she could remove her stockings. "Flynn knows better than to seek him out when he's in control, but one of these days, we're going to cross paths with him."

I perked an eyebrow, unbuttoning my sleeves and rolling them up to my elbows. "I am genuinely surprised you have not already."

Celine responded with silence. I shut my eyes for the briefest of moments, feeling a slight twist in my stomach conspiring with my already-labored nerves to drive me mad. Turning away from her, I opened my eyes only when I knew I would not be able to see her even in my periphery and approached the bathroom sink. Using my elbow to twist the tap on, I started the process of more thoroughly cleaning the blood from my hands.

More than once, my eyes drifted to the reflectionless mirror in front of me. I idly wondered who would stare back at me if I gazed for long enough, if I would see Flynn, or the countless other demons I housed who did not bear a name. I wondered if he was all of them, forged into one, and mused on Celine's assertion. The curious looks shot to me by my brother were growing by leaps and bounds. He knew something was awry even if he did not know what. He had heard the countless arguments by now, I was certain, and although my splintered psyche was only ever alluded toward, I knew the aged Irishman to be more perceptive than he let on. Taking a deep breath, I exhaled it slowly and removed my shirt to wipe away the remaining vestiges of my night out on the town.

Celine was waiting for me when I emerged. Clad in nothing but a revealing negligee, she lay on the bed with one leg bent and seemed to be staring at nothing in particular on the other side of the room. I draped my shirt on the forming pile of clothing my chair housed and started unbuckling my belt.

She exhaled a deep breath, her jade-colored eyes flicking to engage mine. "He hasn't noticed," she said, referencing back to her previous comment.

All I could do was nod. Leg by leg, I removed my pants as though the task had become laborious all-of-a-sudden. When the fine linen joined the remainder of our garments, I trudged toward the bed, wearing only a pair of boxers.

Celine looked up at me, frowning. "You need to relax, amour," she said. "Has it ever occurred to you I indulge the things I do with Flynn because he doesn't grumble about it nearly as much as you do?"

"He indulges you," I said as I plucked a pair of black pajama pants from the nightstand and threaded my legs though each hole. "And you indulge him. You do not have a relationship, you have a conspiracy."

"Is a conspiracy such a bad thing to have?" She shot me a wink when my gaze flicked momentarily to her. "You should hear the disdain in your voice when you say that."

"Perhaps." I left the word handing in the ether, pretending to focus on dressing while my thoughts spun around the universe and back. Part of me yet ached for Monica, wondering if she beheld the realm of the living just like Flynn's conquest from earlier. The shattered glass had not been mended; the world yet remained not-quite-right regardless of how many blessings I now possessed. "I think I need to spend more time with John and Lydia," I said, thinking aloud. "I got them back only to ignore them constantly. They must wonder where I get to most nights."

"They know you're busy." The flippant way she said that made my skin crawl, but when she continued, I visibly twitched. "Maybe we could take them to New Orleans with us."

"Not if you and Flynn intend to make an excursion of that."

"It would only be at night."

"I could only see them at night, love. I do not have the ability to turn human any longer."

"Well, then, not every night. I don't know. Maybe we can take them somewhere else after New Orleans."

"I do not even wish to go to New Orleans."

Her silence spoke volumes. I shut my eyes, knowing my assertion would anger her, especially if she had planned a debaucherous affair with my alter ego. As if to prove my point, she said, "Suit yourself," with ice hanging from her words, threatening to break off and impale me when I settled in bed.

I sighed and swallowed hard. "Perhaps I can free a week or two after Lydia's birthday."

Celine did not respond. I listened for anything – a sigh, a whine, a line of French muttered beneath her breath as she was opt to do – but heard nothing and saw no further reaction from her. Crossing the room, I shut off the lights, and took my place in bed. Celine laid on her side, her back to me.

I touched her shoulder, caressing her cool skin lovingly. "This time, I was the one who angered you," I said, my voice soft, almost conciliatory.

Once again, Celine said nothing. I frowned and wrapped an arm around her, spooning with her while staring across the room and attempting to sort myself out. Still, I felt empty – calloused and jaded beyond my ability to repair. My apologies were weak because I could not summon the honesty to be remorseful for what I said.

"You need to reconcile yourself, Peter," Celine finally said, just as I figured she had fallen asleep. "You are vampire. You are a seer and a father and a lover, but you keep yourself splintered into pieces and refuse to deal with who you are. And I don't know how much longer I can put up with it."

Her words jabbed through me in a more pointed manner than I thought them capable. Recoiling from the impact, I wondered who had reacted strongest to her veiled threat, me or the assassin. 'You did, seer,' I told myself. 'Flynn lacks the capacity to feel.' Sighing, I said, "I know, love," but these words also lacked any veracity to buttress them. Instead, I saw my life like an outsider gazing inward.

I saw the love affair I clung onto because I did not wish to be alone. I saw the dual natures I held at bay and the calling I tried to ignore with my every waking moment. I saw my alter ego issue a challenge with his stare and, as I kissed Celine's head, spoke the only honest thing I could manage within the confines of my thoughts.

'Yes, you are right, I am a fractured creature.' Tightening my hold on her, I spied shadows playing across the room and felt them twist a knife in my chest. All the things I had done. All the experiences I had carried with me, from Philadelphia to Toronto and back to this godforsaken city again. I wondered if running away would help me to escape them.

Still, the first, painful clue to the riddle was as viscerally evident to me as my own name. 'I do need to reconcile myself. But it will not be with you.'