The Seattle underground transit system is a place of unique smells, flickering lights, and the collective resignation of thousands of commuters. To Elara Vance, it was a Tuesday. To her companions, it was a descent into the Nine Hells.
"This air," Aldren choked, pulling the collar of his oversized 'University of Washington' hoodie up over his nose. "It tastes of stagnation and... is that urine?"
"It is the scent of human despair," Li Wusheng observed solemnly. He was standing perfectly still in the middle of the Pioneer Square station platform, looking like a grim accountant in his illusionary grey suit. "The Feng Shui here is catastrophic. We are standing in a literal tunnel of negative Qi."
"It's the Light Rail," Elara hissed, adjusting the strap of her heavy cat carrier. Mr. Whiskers let out a low, ominous yowl from within. "And keep your voices down. We are incognito."
"I am a Lord of the Night," Aldren whispered loudly. "I do not take the 'Light Rail'. I take a carriage drawn by shadow-steeds. Or a private jet."
"Your jet is traceable," Elara reminded him. "The Orca card is not. Now, did you tap it?"
Aldren looked at the blue plastic card in his hand with deep suspicion. "I waved it at the sensor. The machine beeped at me. It was a rude beep."
"That means it worked. Come on."
The train arrived with a screech of metal on metal. The doors slid open, revealing a packed car.
"We cannot enter," Aldren stated, recoiling. "There are too many heartbeats. The cacophony is deafening."
"Move it, hoodie!" a woman behind them shouted, shoving past Aldren.
Aldren's eyes flashed red. "Do you know who I am, mortal? I could turn your blood to—"
Elara grabbed the back of his hoodie and hauled him into the train. Li Wusheng followed, gliding over the gap without his feet touching the floor.
They squeezed into the standing area near the doors. It was rush hour. Bodies were pressed against bodies.
Aldren looked like he was vibrating. "Personal space," he muttered, shrinking away from a man eating a breakfast burrito. "This is a violation of the Treaty of 1892."
Li Wusheng, conversely, had closed his eyes and seemed to have entered a trance. He was standing on one leg like a flamingo, unbothered by the swaying of the train.
"Why is he doing that?" a teenager with green hair asked Elara, pointing at Li.
"Ear infection," Elara lied. "Equilibrium issues."
The train lurched forward. Aldren stumbled, falling directly into Elara. His cold hands gripped her shoulders to steady himself.
For a second, the smell of the subway vanished, replaced by his scent—rainwater, old iron, and expensive cologne. He looked down at her, his ancient eyes wide with genuine panic.
"I do not like this metal worm, Elara," he whispered. "It rumbles like the belly of a leviathan."
"It's just a train, Aldren," she said, though her heart did a traitorous little skip at his closeness. "Just hold onto the rail."
"I shall hold onto you," he declared. "You are my anchor."
"I am five-foot-four. If you fall, I go down with you."
From the other side of Elara, Li Wusheng opened one eye. "Unhand her, leech. You are exploiting the inertia for romantic gain."
"I am trying not to vomit!" Aldren snapped. "My constitution is sensitive to motion not generated by magic!"
"Gentlemen," Elara warned. "If you fight here, we get arrested. And if we get arrested, they take my cat. Do you want Mr. Whiskers to go to kitty jail?"
Both men looked at the carrier.
"I shall endure," Aldren said stiffly, releasing her shoulders and gripping the metal pole with enough force to leave indents in the steel.
"I will meditate on the stillness of the mountain," Li said, closing his eye again.
The ride to the suburbs took forty minutes. By the time they stepped off at the Angle Lake station, Aldren looked green, and Li Wusheng had accidentally purified the air in the train car, causing three people to miss their stop because they felt too peaceful to move.
Elara's parents lived in a cul-de-sac in Federal Way. It was a neighborhood of manicured lawns, identical mailboxes, and an aggressive Homeowners Association.
"It is... quiet," Aldren noted as they walked down the sidewalk. The sun was trying to peek through the clouds, and he flinched, pulling his hood lower. "Suspiciously quiet. Where are the guards? The battlements?"
"It's the suburbs, Aldren. The only guards are the Neighborhood Watch, and they're mostly retired dentists named Bob."
Li Wusheng stopped abruptly in front of a garden gnome on Mrs. Peterson's lawn.
He crouched down, examining the plaster figure of the smiling gnome holding a fishing rod.
"This idol," Li whispered, horrified. "It traps the soul of a small elder? Is this how this tribe punishes its criminals?"
"It's a decoration, Li," Elara sighed. "It's not a trapped soul."
"Its eyes follow me," Li insisted. "It is a vessel of malice."
"Leave the gnome. We're here."
Elara stopped in front of a two-story beige house with a wreath on the door that said Live, Laugh, Love.
She felt a wave of nausea that had nothing to do with the subway ride. She hadn't visited her parents in three months. Bringing two supernatural fugitives home was not exactly the reunion she had planned.
"Okay," Elara turned to them. "Listen carefully. My mother is intense. My father asks too many questions. You are my... friends. From work."
"Friends," Aldren tested the word like it was a foreign currency. "I prefer 'Dark Consort'."
"Work friends," Elara emphasized. "Aldren, you are in... marketing. Li, you are in... HR."
"I do not know what 'H-R' is," Li said. "Does it involve swords?"
"Sometimes. Just nod and smile. And for the love of god, do not mention vampires, cultivation, or the apocalypse."
"I shall charm them," Aldren smoothed his hoodie. "Mothers adore me. In 1750, the Queen of France said I had the calves of a dancer."
"Don't mention your calves. Or the Queen of France."
Elara took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.
Ding-dong.
Footsteps. The door swung open.
Standing there was a woman who looked exactly like Elara, but with shorter hair and a sweater vest.
"Elara!" her mother, Susan Vance, shrieked. She pulled Elara into a hug that threatened to crack ribs. "You didn't call! We saw the news! Something about a wizard on the highway? Were you near that?"
"Hi, Mom. I'm fine. I was... nowhere near that."
Susan pulled back, and then she saw them.
The tall, pale man in the hoodie. The serene, rigid man in the grey suit.
Susan's eyes went wide. Her gaze darted between the two men, then to Elara, then back to the men. A slow, terrifying grin spread across her face.
"Oh," Susan said. "Oh, my."
"Mom," Elara started. "These are—"
"Elara Vance," Susan whispered loud enough for the neighbors to hear. "You brought two? And you didn't tell me?"
"It's not like that!"
Aldren stepped forward. He took Susan's hand, bowed low, and kissed her knuckles.
"Mrs. Vance," he purred, turning the charm up to eleven. "Your beauty eclipses the sun. It is clear where Elara inherits her radiance. I am Aldren. I work in... Marketing."
Susan turned a shade of pink that defied physics. "Oh. Marketing. How... wonderful. You have very cold hands, dear."
"Circulation issue," Aldren said smoothly.
Li Wusheng stepped forward. He did not kiss her hand. He bowed at a perfect ninety-degree angle, fist in palm.
"Greetings, Matriarch Vance," Li said solemnly. "I am Li. I work in Human Resources. I ensure the... spiritual discipline... of the company."
Susan blinked. "Human Resources. Right. Very... formal."
"Who's at the door, Sue?" A gruff voice came from the hallway.
Elara's dad, Frank, appeared. Frank was a man who communicated primarily in grunts and questions about tire pressure. He was holding a spatula.
He looked at Aldren. He looked at Li. He looked at Elara.
"Dad," Elara said weakly. "Surprise?"
Frank narrowed his eyes. "Which one is the boyfriend?"
"Neither!" Elara yelled.
"Both," Aldren and Li said simultaneously.
Elara closed her eyes. "I am going to walk into the ocean."
"Well, don't just stand there letting the heat out," Frank grunted, stepping aside. "Come in. Pancakes are on."
The Vance living room was a shrine to family photos and ceramic roosters. Aldren sat on the floral sofa, looking like a panther trying to nap in a dollhouse. Li Wusheng stood by the fireplace, examining a photo of Elara from 4th grade where she had braces and a bowl cut.
"A difficult era for you," Li noted.
"Burn that photo," Elara said, putting the cat carrier down. "Okay. We just need a place to crash for a few days. My apartment has... plumbing issues."
"Plumbing issues," Frank repeated, walking in from the kitchen with a plate of pancakes. "Mold?"
"Shadow monsters," Aldren muttered.
"Mold," Elara corrected loudly. "Black mold. Very aggressive."
"I knew that building was trouble," Frank said, pointing a spatula at Elara. "I told you. Renting in the city is a scam. You should buy a condo in Kent."
"I shall buy her a castle," Aldren said, taking a pancake with his bare hands.
Frank stared at him. "A castle?"
"A condo," Aldren corrected quickly. "A castle-style condo. In... Marketing."
Susan bustled in with syrup. "So, boys. Tell us about yourselves. How did you meet our Elara?"
"We met on a battlefield," Li said honestly. "She was healing the wounded. I was purifying the wicked."
Susan paused. "Battlefield? You mean... corporate corporate takeover?"
"Yes," Elara said. "Very hostile. Hostile work environment. That's why Li is in HR."
Aldren took a bite of the pancake. He chewed. He stopped chewing. His vampire physiology, designed for blood and blood alone, rejected the concept of fluffy buttermilk goodness.
He swallowed with visible effort.
"Delightful," Aldren choked out. "It tastes like... grain. And sugar. So much sugar."
"It's Aunt Jemima," Frank said proudly.
"A fine vintage," Aldren wheezed.
"So," Susan sat down, her eyes gleaming with interrogation. "Aldren. That accent. British?"
"Vaguely European," Aldren said. "I travel. A lot. Due to the... sun. Allergies."
"And Li? Where are you from?"
"The Cloud Peak Sect," Li said.
"Is that in California?" Susan asked.
"It is beyond the mist," Li answered.
"San Francisco," Elara translated. "He's from San Francisco."
Frank looked at Li's suit. "You a fed?"
"I am a guardian of the order," Li said.
"He's a consultant," Elara said.
Suddenly, a loud crash came from the backyard.
Everyone jumped.
"What was that?" Susan asked.
"Raccoons," Frank grunted. "Damn trash pandas. They've been getting into the bins all week."
Aldren and Li exchanged a look. A look that Elara knew too well.
Not raccoons.
"I will handle the beast," Aldren stood up, his eyes flashing dangerous for a second before he remembered where he was. "I mean... I shall shoo them away. I am excellent with... animals."
"I will assist," Li said, grabbing a fire poker from the hearth. "In case the raccoon knows kung fu."
"Sit down!" Elara hissed. "My dad has a shotgun. He handles the raccoons."
"I got this," Frank said, marching toward the back door.
"No!" Elara jumped up. If her dad walked out there and found a Void Skitterer, he'd have a heart attack. Or try to shoot it and blow up the neighbor's gazebo. "Dad, wait! Aldren is... a raccoon whisperer. It's a marketing technique."
Frank stopped. "A raccoon whisperer?"
"Yes!" Aldren said, panicking. "I speak their language. The chittering. It is a dialect of the old tongue."
Before Frank could question this insanity, the back window shattered.
A dark, blurry shape crashed through the glass, landing on the dining room table.
It wasn't a Void Skitterer.
It was a man. Dressed in tactical black gear, holding a glowing crossbow.
"Target acquired," the hunter said, raising the weapon at Elara.
Susan screamed. Frank dropped the spatula.
"Not in my mother's dining room!" Elara yelled.
Aldren moved. He didn't use his vampire speed—he couldn't reveal himself. So he improvised.
He grabbed the plate of pancakes and frisbee-tossed it at the hunter's face.
The pancakes hit the hunter with a wet thwack. The syrup blinded him for a split second.
"HR Violation!" Li Wusheng shouted. He didn't draw a sword. He didn't use magic. He lunged forward and used the fire poker to whack the crossbow out of the hunter's hand like he was playing croquet.
The hunter stumbled back, wiping syrup from his tactical goggles. "What the—"
Frank roared. "WHO BREAKS A WINDOW IN THIS ECONOMY?!"
Frank tackled the hunter.
It was a beautiful tackle. Frank Vance, former high school linebacker, hit the supernatural assassin with the full weight of a suburban dad enraged by property damage. They crashed into the china cabinet.
"Dad, no!" Elara screamed.
The hunter kicked Frank off, drew a serrated knife, and snarled. His eyes glowed a faint, unnatural purple.
"Okay, gloves off," Aldren growled. "Susan, look away!"
"Why?" Susan shrieked, clutching a throw pillow.
"Because this is going to be messy!"
Aldren grabbed the hunter by the back of his tactical vest and threw him—physically threw him—back out the broken window.
The hunter flew through the air, cleared the deck, cleared the lawn, and crashed directly into Mrs. Peterson's prized begonia patch.
Li Wusheng stepped to the broken window. He made a sharp hand gesture. The shattered glass on the floor vibrated, then flew back up into the frame, reforming perfectly.
"Drafty," Li said, turning back to the room. "I have sealed it."
Silence. Absolute silence in the Vance living room.
Frank lay on the floor, winded. Susan was hyperventilating into the throw pillow.
Elara looked at her parents. She looked at the vampire wiping syrup off his hands. She looked at the immortal putting the fire poker back.
"So," Elara said, her voice high and pitchy. "About the plumbing issues..."
Frank sat up. He looked at Aldren.
"You threw that guy forty feet," Frank said.
"Adrenaline," Aldren said. "Marketing is a high-stress field."
Frank looked at Li. "You fixed a window by waving your hand."
"Glazier certification," Li lied smoothly. "It is part of the HR training."
Frank stood up slowly. He brushed off his khakis. He looked at the broken china cabinet. He looked at his daughter.
"Elara," Frank said.
"Yes, Dad?"
"I don't know who these men are," Frank said. "I don't know why ninja assassins are attacking our house."
He walked over to Aldren and clapped a heavy hand on the vampire's shoulder.
"But that was a hell of a throw, son. You played ball?"
Aldren blinked. "I... dabbled. With heads. I mean... helmets."
Frank nodded, satisfied. "Good enough. Susan, get the broom. We have guests."
Elara let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
"They bought it," she whispered to Li.
"Parents see what they wish to see," Li murmured. "But the hunter was merely a pawn. The barrier is weakening, Elara. We cannot stay here long."
"Just long enough for lunch," Aldren said, eyeing the remaining pancakes with terror. "I hope there is bacon. I really need the iron."