Discover Top Posts Tagged with #john quinn

yanagi-uxinta

Jun 30, 2025

Reflections of Fire

Also available on Fanfiction.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14483865/5/Reflections-of-Fire

And on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66832546

Rating: T

Status: Multi-chapter, chapter 5 (final chapter)

Pairing: Rashel/Quinn

Wordcount: ~6,500

Summary: The escape from the enclave may have been smooth sailing as far as the yacht was concerned, but not all was well on board. The flames at the mansion take their toll, while Rashel and Quinn have to figure out how to reach Circle Daybreak, or if they can even be trusted at all.

Chapter Five: Conquering My Dreams

For the first time since he died, Quinn didn't wake to remembered screams in his ears, just to the perky beeping of the alarm clock. He roused to find his arm thrown across Rashel's lap, his fingers loosely clutching the hem of her sweater, his forehead pressed against her hip, her fingers combing through his damp hair.

Wait.

He blinked, sure his body must be lying to him. No, that was Rashel's denim-clad thigh, so close he could count the woven threads of the fabric, that was the soft wool between his fingers, the solid lines of her hips beneath his arm, shifting as she leaned to turn off the alarm. The fingers of her free hand didn't leave his hair, just stilled in her distraction.

What are you doing?

Snuggling. He — the one often called the Dreadful — had been snuggling into his soulmate's leg in his sleep. He should feel outraged at the indignity of it; of how changed he had become in a matter of days because of the soulmate principle. The issue was that the feeling of comfort and calm was so pervasive, any attempt at outrage only registered as a surprised grumble.

Rashel leaned over him, her face and the curtain of her hair coming into view, her hip shifting its angle against the crown of his head as she sat up rather than back against the pillows. 'I thought you were awake,' she said, on catching his eyes open. She was smiling.

Any hope of getting out of this with dignity intact had gone out the window the moment he latched onto her. May as well play into it. 'Reluctantly,' he admitted, rolling so he was on his back. He reached up with the hand that had been wrapped around her to catch the dark lock of hair dangling near his face, rubbing the soft strands between his fingers. 'I was very comfortable.'

Her smile quirked on one corner of her mouth, turning into a grin. There was a faint blush high across her cheeks as her eyes darted to his mouth. 'So I noticed.'

He coiled her hair around his fingers, using the gentle pressure to urge her closer. She didn't resist, leaning down and permitting his hand to slide through her hair to the back of her neck as he rose up to meet her. The sharpness of her mint toothpaste lingered on her lips, tempting him to kiss deeper, taste her more.

But there was the damn debrief.

He made himself drop back onto one elbow, satisfying himself with the way her eyelashes fluttered before her emerald eyes opened slowly, savouring it as much as he had. A look of rueful regret flickered across her face. 'Meeting?' she asked, sighing when he nodded.

'Believe me, I would much rather stay here,' he said, running his thumb along the swell of her lower lip, resisting the urge to kiss her again when he saw her pupils dilate, 'but since these people have our freedom and probably our lives in their hands, I imagine it would be rude to not show up.'

'Very,' she whispered against the pad of his thumb.

He released her with a smile. Teasing her was only teasing himself at this point. 'Besides, I do remember them saying breakfast was involved, and unlike vampires, you need more than one meal a day.'

Rashel groaned and flopped back against the pillows, spell thoroughly broken.

Paulie was in charge of the debrief once everyone was gathered downstairs.

It looked like the room was meant to be a normal dining room, but the large table had been shifted against one wall to act as a buffet table, and multiple smaller ones had been brought in with a mishmash of chairs to accommodate everyone.

Timmy was still with Inkosazana, but the rest of the group from the enclave was present. Daphne, Fayth and Nyala joined Quinn and Rashel at their table, all three with plates laden like Rashel's: bacon, eggs, bowls of granola, pastries.

Paulie sensibly waited for everyone to be seated and eating before he started — a good way to avoid interruptions, Quinn thought.

'Alright everyone,' Paulie started, 'thanks for getting down here on time. My name is Paulie, I'm a coordinator for Circle Daybreak. I'm going to keep this as brief and as clear as I can. Now, you all know what happened to you.' The mood abruptly dropped, all cheerful chatter ending. Paulie gave a grim smile. 'Yeah. On the plus side, that's the hard part over. Vampires, witches, shapeshifters and werewolves are real. They make up what is called the Night World - a society hidden within the human one. You know that part now. I'm here to explain the rest, and where we go from here.

'The house you're in right now is owned by Circle Daybreak. Circles are witch societies, which is how we started. Daybreak was always in support of living in harmony with humans; to the point of accepting anyone, no matter the species, into the Circle. It got disbanded back in the 1600s, when a little thing called the Burning Times started - you might be more familiar with it by the name of the witch trials. After that, the Night World went underground. Set up a load of new laws, but the main two are thus: don't tell a human about the Night World, and don't fall in love with a human, under pain of death.'

Paulie smiled sunnily. 'So, that leaves everyone here in a bit of a pickle. The vampires who arranged this blood feast broke the laws, by kidnapping all of you.'

Quinn got a few dark looks at that. He stayed facing resolutely forward.

'So if they're caught, they'd be killed. But because you all know, now, so would you. That's where we come in. Circle Daybreak was revived, quietly, and unofficially, to help people who learned about the Night World - people like you, who were victims of a crime, or couples that are composed of a human and a Night person.'

Daphne gave Quinn and Rashel a knowing look, but her mouth was too full of bacon to say anything.

'We're here to protect you from the laws of the Night World. But I won't lie, we're not miracle workers. If any East Coast Elders find out, they will come hunting for you. So our best bet to keep you safe, for now at least, is to get you out of here. We're already arranging a flight to take you out west, somewhere you'll be safe and protected. For those of you with families, we can try to get a message to them, but you cannot mention anything supernatural to them, or they're at as much risk as you are now.'

Not all the girls had families, or ones they would miss at least, but enough did that there was a general outburst of distress.

'I'm sorry,' Paulie said, waving his hands in a soothing request for quiet. 'I'm truly, truly sorry. You didn't ask for this. You didn't deserve it. But this is the only way, right now, to keep you and your families safe.'

A hand went up, like this was school. 'What about the police?' the girl called out when Paulie waved at her. Blonde, grey eyes, athletic. One of Lily's.

Paulie looked directly at her, sympathy writ in his expression. 'What's your name?'

'Brittney,' she said.

'They’re in the police, Brittney. They're in the government, the hospitals, everywhere. If you tell any official organisation, you'll have a Night Person at your door within a couple of days, with permission to kill you and everyone in your house. Then they'll disguise it as a gas leak causing an explosion, or arson, or a robbery gone wrong where the culprit is never found.'

Brittney shrank down into her seat, eyes darting to the others in shock, something shared by the rest of the room. Quinn's little table was the only one that looked resigned.

'So where are we going?' That was one of Ivan's girls; petite, dark, curly hair. Quinn was pretty sure she was one of the girls with no one to miss her. Sarah, was it?

Paulie looked apologetic. 'Exactly where is classified. This is a big operation, moving all of you in secret. All I will say is you're going from a private airfield a short drive from here, and you'll be flying for several hours west. We can't tell you anything else for safety reasons.'

In other words, so no one could blab if this operation went south. It made sense, as little as Quinn liked the idea of flying in blind.

'We will be stopping at several different airfields, dropping off supplies and personnel across the country where they're needed, before ending the journey at our headquarters where you will disembark. I apologise to anyone who gets travel sick, but it's another way of disguising your escape.'

'But no one knows we're here!' Another girl protested. Saoirse was curvy, her thick red hair down to her hips. She'd been in and out of homeless shelters for three years after her parents threw her out. She'd never said for what, and Quinn hadn't asked. It had been enough to know she wouldn't be missed. 'No one with anything to do with— with vampires has seen us since we got to Boston.'

'That we know of,' Quinn said, his soft voice carrying through the room. Everyone turned to look. Their faces were guarded, uncertain. 'Unfortunately, until Daybreak arrived, you had one vampire telepathically scanning for signs we'd been noticed. I'm a strong telepath, but I can't check everyone at the Boston docks and along the twenty minute walk to the hotel on my own; that would give even a vampire an aneurysm. We can also block each other's telepathy if we need to, depending on how telepathically strong the individual is, so even my scan might not have picked up one of the vampires from the enclave if they were alert and actively hiding their mind.'

'How do we trust you? You're the reason some of us are here in the first place,' Saoirse snapped.

Quinn flashed his smile at her, and she leaned back. Cruel, perhaps, but he couldn't risk this turning into a mob. 'I am,' he said. 'I don't particularly care if you trust me or not, so long as you follow instructions and don't put the group in danger. What I do care about, is getting you all out safely. Call it a change of heart, if that and the pizzas last night make you feel better,' he said, watching as several pairs of eyes dropped. So willing to follow a noisy leader, but cowering the second they were challenged. Verm—

Stop.

Quinn took a breath he didn't need, before continuing with less ice in his voice. 'I tried, but I can't guarantee a Night Person didn't notice a vampire with twenty four teenage girls and a child in tow. Should one of the vampires or werewolves from the enclave then show up, and ask the right person, they wouldn't find it hard to track us from there.'

'Which we can't know for sure hasn't happened,' Paulie picked up the thread, giving Quinn a respectful nod. 'Hence our caution. All I ask is that you bear with us. We do appreciate your patience.' There were some grumbles, but they soon subsided, allowing Paulie to continue. 'We'll be leaving here at ten o'clock, so you've still got plenty of time to finish breakfast, have showers, whatever you need to do before we set off. Meet up in the foyer at ten to ten, please, so we can make sure everyone is ready to go on time. Any questions?'

The silence was heavy; as if to say 'plenty', but none of the girls spoke up. Quinn, however, did. 'You can't tell us where we're going or by what path, but can you tell us what time roughly the journey will be over?'

Paulie hummed in thought, before giving a decisive nod. 'You should be at headquarters by quarter to three tomorrow morning if not before, so long as there's no delays.'

Even accounting for several stops, and the layover periods for refuelling, they must be going out towards the opposite coast, if not to the coast itself. California, maybe? Busy enough that one more random headquarters would be lost in the bustle. Or going for the middle of rural Oregon, perhaps, banking on isolation keeping them safe.

Either way, Quinn thought as he swapped a knowing glance with Rashel, this was going to be a very long, very dull journey.

Maybe they'd get lucky and Hunter would show up after all.

***

The private jet was huge, and not only that, it was newer than new. It was an ERJ145STD - as far as Quinn was aware, they weren't even available for revenue use yet; they'd only been certified a few months ago.

There was the start of a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Little things that just… bothered him. Lots of vampires had a lot of money, but this was getting into extremely rich now. Richer than most vampires.

He didn't like how this was narrowing down. He was pretty sure Daybreak was being funded by an old vampire now. Old and wealthy. That narrowed it down quite a bit, especially if he classed 'old' as over five-hundred. Hunter's age and older.

But they didn't have much choice, and the people in Daybreak had been nothing but kind and helpful. He'd tried asking Fayth, pulling her aside a moment before they boarded, but she didn't know who the head of Circle Daybreak was. Operatives like her that performed investigations and who were at high risk of being captured or identified by the Night World weren't told, so they couldn't tell. That was the frustrating part — it all made sense. So Quinn kept his reservations to himself — though he could feel Rashel glancing at him in query — and boarded the plane.

They weren't the only ones on the flight, as Paulie had mentioned. There were other Daybreak personnel on board; some in the black suits, others in their own clothes. The jet could seat fifty passengers; there was plenty of space for all of them. There was no assigned seating, so everyone just sat where they wanted. He helped Rashel stow a duffel bag full of gear and her bokken in the overhead compartments, her back still resisting any kind of stretching. Nissa, the driver Paulie had mentioned, was a vampire. She'd dropped everything off after breakfast with a cool smile, though her eyes had lingered on Rashel curiously for a long moment. The word that the Cat had been identified, and had joined Circle Daybreak, must have been getting round already.

One thing you didn't get on standard airliners were offers from the witches to give counter spells for — or, for more severe cases, offers from the vampires to sedate anyone who suffered from — travel sickness so they could sleep through the flight. A few of the girls — and one of the human Circle Daybreak operatives — took them up on the offer straight away. Daphne tried the counter spell from the witches, but twenty minutes into the flight she turned round in her seat, her face a worrying shade of grey-green, and begged Quinn to knock her out. He obliged, giving her a nausea-free flight.

He and Rashel spent most of the flight — and the several ones after — trying to identify where they were once the plane started to descend. Chicago, Tulsa, Denver. Each flight was short, two or three hours, but with the layovers to refuel, disembark whoever and whatever equipment was leaving, it was half eleven at night when Paulie finally said the next flight would be the last one. There had been lunch served on the first flight for the humans, and a three hour layover at Tulsa so everyone could stretch their legs and head into the airport for dinner. One of the Daybreakers quietly offered to be a donor for Timmy, under Quinn's careful supervision before he put the boy under again — much to Timmy's frustration — but Quinn declined the same offer. Tulsa was busy enough for him to find a couple of people, so he wasn't taking too much from one person.

The last flight, soaring through the night sky, continued generally west over the Rockies. A lot of the humans who didn't need knocking out were dropping off to sleep too, but Rashel stayed awake, even when there was nothing to see outside but the moon as they cruised above the thin cloud cover.

Nervous? Quinn asked.

She shifted, giving him a distracted smile. Sort of. I know Daybreak's whole thing is peace and harmony, so I don't expect any physical danger. It's just… everything is going to be so different now.

For both of us, Quinn thought. She slid her fingers between his, and for a moment they just held on. I'm still trying to work out who could be funding all this.

Any ideas? She was curious, but didn't have that edge of worry he could feel in his own gut.

Not really, he thought. Normally I'd say a witch, with it being a Circle, but with the funds this operation would take? I don't know of any witches, even witch families, that wealthy. So I'm thinking a vampire - a made vampire, with all the roses at the safe house.

And old? Rashel guessed. You need time to build up that kind of money.

Exactly. Older than me. Hunter's age or older, I'd say, and he was born in the late thirteen hundreds.

How many candidates is that though?

Too many, Quinn admitted. It's a much shorter list than just 'any made vampire', but made vampires generally don't like dying a second time, and we're pretty good at avoiding it. Present company excluded.

He felt her little glow of pride, and then the accompanying pang of guilt for feeling it. They were both going to be doing a lot of that in the coming weeks, he suspected.

By the time city lights started appearing below them again, they'd angled south west. So west over the Rockies from Denver, then south west once they were clear and starting to descend…

And he recognised that pattern of lights. So did Rashel. They said it at the same time.

'Vegas.'

That unsettled feeling in his stomach twisted. Vegas was home to a lot of made vampires, yes, and it was also where the Crone of the Witches lived — who would have been one of Quinn's first guesses, if he didn't know for a fact that Edgith Harman didn't have the money for even this jet, never mind everything else — but…

Ask any vampire who the most famous person in Vegas is, and every single one will say Thierry Descouedres without hesitation. Yes, he was nicknamed Saint Thierry for some vow he made back when he was living in a cave to never kill again, but he was a Night World Elder. That took precedence over whatever reputation he had. Quinn knew he'd intervened personally in several cases where the laws had been broken, and no one saw those people again. He might not kill personally, but he knew where all the bodies were buried, and he may as well have put them there.

No. It didn't make sense. Fayth was a Daybreaker, and she knew the people who'd arrived. This was Circle Daybreak. And they believed in everyone coexisting peacefully. They had no reason to bring them to an Elder. It had to be someone else. Maybe old Edgith had harangued or magicked some weak-willed vampire into channelling money her way without asking any questions. That was more likely. But that didn't explain the roses.

'Quinn?' Rashel, her green eyes concerned.

I won't hear her scream. I won't watch her die. Not like Dove. I refuse.

Do you still have your knife on you? he asked, latching onto his surface calm with everything he had. He couldn't let her feel the turmoil beneath.

Her eyebrow raised in question, but she briefly touched her waistband.

Keep it close, he thought, and stared out the window as they circled down to the runway. And be ready.

She squeezed his hand. Always.

***

Quinn carried Rashel's duffel bag with one hand and had her bokken and her training shinai in their cloth carrying case slung over his shoulder. He was relieved of Timmy by Daphne, who wanted to thank him for keeping her pleasantly unconscious during each flight and so comparatively well-rested for what was two in the morning Boston time, and eleven o'clock at night here in Vegas. Rashel had her knife in her waistband, and she'd slipped a few other small weapons out of the bag and into her clothes discreetly before they left the plane. Given their flight was a private one, they had cars — more white limousines — waiting for them on the runway. No security to go through, bar having to put the bag and swords in the trunk.

It was the limousines. It had been in front of his face the whole time. Thierry was known for travelling in white limousines with red interiors, and they were what his staff used too. Quinn just hadn't connected the dots when he saw them out of context, in Boston, rather than the streets of Las Vegas.

Any hope that this was the Crone's doing dwindled away. It was Thierry. It had to be. Which meant Thierry was either being fooled into funding this, or they were being taken to an Elder; and Quinn could not conceive of how Circle Daybreak could get one over on the second oldest person on the planet. Not for this amount of money.

Paulie had opened the door for them all, so Quinn nudged Rashel in first, his fingers ghosting over the knife in the back of her waistband. Driver's side, he thought, and she slid into position. He could feel her broadened awareness of his every movement, and that of everyone in the car as they clambered in. Quinn sat opposite, behind Paulie. There was a privacy window, but it was fully open.

Daphne and Nyala were chattering away as the convoy moved off, Timmy asleep on Daphne's knee. Fayth was listening quietly, occasionally adding a sentence to the discussion — what they wanted to do in Vegas if they were allowed to wander freely. They had no idea.

It was Fayth that threw him. No clue who was running her operation, but utter trust that they were safe. Still, it was that little whisper of doubt stayed his hand. Wait and see. Wait for proof. This might all be a bad coincidence.

He waited through the long drive from the airport, letting the chatter wash over him as they cruised through the night. He waited as the houses on the outskirts of Vegas started getting bigger. As the driveways became longer, the security higher.

He waited until they turned onto the road he knew led to Thierry's mansion. He gave them all the benefit he could, before he thrust up his mental shields, looked Rashel dead in the eye, and thought we need leverage or we're dead.

Rashel didn't hesitate. She drew the wooden knife soundlessly in her left hand, then leaned into the privacy window to brace the knife against the driver's throat. 'Don't move,' she whispered. The driver had frozen beneath the blade. Paulie's eyes were nearly popping out of his head, but behind them Daphne wittered on. From the back, it just looked like Rashel was leaning through the window to talk. Quinn shifted forward, easily sliding his right hand through the window to bracket around Paulie's throat, speaking softly into his ear. 'Pull over, instruct the rest of the convoy to do the same, lock the doors, and we can have a little talk about why people claiming to be Circle Daybreak are driving us straight to an Elder's door.'

The vampire didn't dare nod, the blade already pressed to skin and sharp enough to catch, and smoothly steered the car in towards the sidewalk. He pressed the child lock on the door controls. The dull clunk was very loud to Quinn's ears. Paulie leaned forward, risking the pressure of Quinn's grip, to put the hazards on, his other hand raised in surrender. 'Rashel, Quinn, please—'

'The convoy, Paulie.'

He slowly pressed his brooch. 'All cars pull over; await further instructions. Lock your doors.'

'Are we here?' Daphne asked; Quinn could hear that she was facing away, out the window, trying to see in the darkness. She mustn't have heard the lock.

'Get ready to run,' Rashel said.

'What? Wh— what's going on?' Daphne had finally noticed, they all had.

'Just a few metres down the street is the home of the second oldest vampire on the planet,' Quinn said pleasantly, this time loud enough for the car to hear. 'Thierry Descouedres, he calls himself nowadays. He's also an Elder on the Night World council, and precisely the kind of person we should not be bringing a pack of humans aware of the Night World to. So, who'd like to explain? Fayth certainly seemed to think you were Circle Daybreak, so was she fooled too? Was she lying?'

Paulie shook his head, skin moving under Quinn's palm. 'No, no one was lying! We are Circle Daybreak, I swear. You're not in any danger here.'

'So you're not taking us to Thierry Descouedres?' Rashel asked, her eyes hard. Of course she knew who — what Thierry was.

Paulie's Adam's apple bobbed. 'Thierry is Circle Daybreak,' he whispered. 'He can explain everything once we're there.'

An Elder? The head of Circle Daybreak? How? It was a lie, it had to be. 'Unfortunately Paulie, if this is all a trap and Thierry acts in his capacity as Elder, we wouldn't stand a chance. These girls, who I am trying to make up for my crimes to, wouldn't stand a chance. So I am not willing to let you take us into that lion's den. If that means two deaths right here in this car, over twenty four innocent lives, then I'll take it.'

The back passenger door opened. Quinn went very, very still.

It shouldn't have been able to. He'd heard it lock. But the dry Nevada air was filling the car, and the sound of the opening hadn't been neat. The lock had sheared off with the force.

Quinn turned, keeping his hand around Paulie's neck. Rashel had kept her knife in place, but he could feel the clear, sharp hurricane of panic in her gut, because she was staring at something she knew, without question, she couldn't beat.

The door was, bizarrely, still on its hinges, even though the lock-side was buckled and torn. Leaning down to look inside was the second oldest vampire in the world.

***

Thierry Descouedres offered them all a sad, rueful smile. 'On reflection, I suspect we should have raised your clearance to Top Secret before you arrived in Vegas. I apologise for the oversight. Would you please release Amos and Paulie?'

Rashel stared, maintaining perfect pressure on the driver — Amos' — throat almost on autopilot. He was around nineteen, tall, with pale blond hair and dark eyes that looked… lost, almost. And right that moment, pleading. He was asking. Asking. For them to not kill his men. There wasn't even any attempt at influencing them.

Why wasn't he ripping them apart? He could reach Quinn already, just by reaching out his hand.

Daphne and the others had scrambled to the back of the limo, Timmy shoved behind them all. The only weapon they had between them were their shoes and Daphne's purse, but they were braced to fight regardless. They didn't know how hopeless it was. She should have given them some of the weapons she'd stashed in her pockets and up her sleeves.

'If we don't?' Rashel asked, because Thierry was still watching them all with those sad eyes.

He sighed. 'Then I'll be upping their hazard pay further as compensation for the discomfort while we have the conversation in here, but I would rather they be comfortable while I catch you all up.'

'What.' It wasn't a question, it came out too flat. 'You do know this knife is wood, right? And Quinn can crush his windpipe with a flex of his fingers?'

'I'd really rather you didn't,' Paulie whispered, but he was staring ahead out of the windscreen with an odd calm.

'As would I,' Thierry said. He spread his hands out, beseeching. 'What can I do to convince you?'

'Start talking,' Quinn said finally. Rashel got the impression he'd only just broken through his own shock, like coming up for air from freezing water. 'Start with how you, a Night World Elder, are running Circle Daybreak.'

Thierry lowered his hands, face sombre. 'Because my soulmate is human, and I don't believe loving her should be illegal. I don't believe that anyone should die for loving someone. And I'm the perfect decoy — as you say, I'm an Elder. I also have more money than I can comprehend, so I'm putting it to good use.'

'You have a soulmate?' Quinn asked quietly. 'A human?'

Thierry nodded.

'What's her name?' Rashel asked.

His face changed; softened. The sadness in his eyes both eased and deepened somehow, and his voice was incredibly gentle when he said, 'Hana.'

He… sounded genuine. The trouble was vampires could be very convincing liars.

'Where is she?'

That old, weary sadness returned. 'I don't know. I'm trying to find her again.'

'She's gone missing?'

Thierry shook his head. 'It's… complicated. She's an Old Soul.'

A what?

But Quinn's head tilted back in recognition. A Night World thing then. 'You mean you haven't found her yet, this time around?'

Thierry's smile was small, tired. 'Precisely.'

'How?' Quinn asked softly. The pained undercurrent of his voice was subtle, hard to catch, but in his mind it throbbed. 'How do you bear watching her die over and over?'

Thierry's face went hard, remote. For an instant, Rashel fully believed that he'd hunted mammoths with nothing more than a pointy stick. 'That,' Thierry said in a quiet but distinct voice that made the fine hairs on the back of Rashel's neck rise, 'is something I would rather not discuss in public. Now,' he took a breath, and was once again just a stupidly handsome teenager in a ridiculously expensive light tan suit, 'can you both please release my people?'

Rashel held steady, eyes on Quinn. She trusted him to know, out of all of them, if it was safe.

Quinn stared at Thierry for a long moment, almost frozen except for the breeze ruffling his hair. Then he slowly, carefully removed his hand from Paulie's throat and drew his arm back into the main body of the car.

Rashel followed suit, sheathing the dagger as Amos leaned forward in relief, one hand to his unmarked neck. She heard more than saw the girls relaxing — or sitting down normally on the limo seats rather than crouching in the closest they could get to a ready stance.

Thierry's smile was a great deal warmer, though no less distant. Like he was always looking past you, to something else. Or someone else? His soulmate, wherever she was? 'Thank you,' he said, and dear God he actually sounded heartfelt, like they'd done him a huge favour instead of nearly murdering his employees.

'Yeah, thanks for the bonus I guess?' Paulie said with a distinctly shaky laugh.

'Apologies,' Quinn said lightly. 'Nothing personal.'

'Not the first time a vampire's nearly killed me,' Paulie continued with brittle cheer. 'You, uh, riding with us sir?'

Thierry shook his head. 'I'll meet you there.' He vanished.

Rashel hadn't even blinked. It was just… like he'd been erased. He was faster than any vampire she'd ever seen… and there hadn't even been any muscle twitches as a warning.

And he was only the second oldest vampire?

'Well, I'll just get us all moving again, shall I?' Paulie said, as if clinging to normality. He radioed the other cars to follow Amos, then sank back in his seat as the car pulled away from the curb to drive another thirty seconds down the road, and turn into a long, palm-tree lined driveway.

"Opulent" did not cover the mansion at the end of it, which was lit by small wall-mounted lanterns so they could see the scale of it. It may as well have been a palace, it was that big, and it was covered in black rose designs. Anyone who had even an inkling about the Night World would know immediately that a made vampire owned the place. Daphne was gaping, utterly star struck, Nyala stared, and even Fayth looked mildly surprised.

The front door opened as the girls gathered together, their drivers and bodyguards in a loose circle around them, as if even here they expected an ambush. The man who'd opened the door was yet another employee dressed in black, with a tidy ponytail, an earpiece, and sunglasses even though it was night.

Nilsson, Quinn thought to her, Thierry's personal driver and assistant. Pretty sure he runs the place when Thierry's away.

You know him? She asked, taking her sword bag while Quinn grabbed her duffel bag.

A shrug. I know of him. He's been with Thierry since, oh, the eighteen seventies? The Swedish Famine of 1867–1869 nearly got him, I think, til someone turned him. He joined the influx of immigrants to the US and started working for Thierry, been with him ever since.

He didn't sound Swedish anymore, when he welcomed them all inside, but his American accent was like listening to a weather reporter — inoffensively mild Midwestern. Trained.

She forgot about Nilsson and his accent as they all walked into the entrance hall — because this place had one. A huge one. The girls behind her were all whispering in awe as they filtered in.

'This way, please,' Nilsson said, leading them towards a large, grand, curving staircase. There was a girl there, sixteen or seventeen years old, with the brindled hair and amber eyes of a werewolf. Compared to Nilsson and the other Circle Daybreakers Rashel had seen, she was dressed very casually in denim shorts, a black vest and dusty sneakers. She rocked back on her heels, clearly bored, as Nilsson corralled them all at the base of the stairs.

'Everyone, this is Lupe Acevedo. Could everyone bar Fayth, Quinn, and Rashel please follow her upstairs; she'll see you to your rooms.'

Daphne still had hold of Timmy, his face tucked in against her neck — a dangerous position, if it weren't for Quinn's influence. 'Keep him with you,' Rashel said to Daphne with a quiet urgency. 'Don't let anyone take him away from you, alright? If anyone tries, you scream as loud as you can and I'll come running.'

Daphne's pale face was worried, but she nodded and shifted so she had a better grip on him. 'And find Nyala some matches til you get to us, right?'

Rashel grinned. 'Right. Nyala, I'm trusting you with them, okay?' She grabbed the other girl's hand — and slipped one of her smaller knives into it.

She was startled a moment, but then nodded as her her fingers closed tight on it and slid it up her sleeve. 'I'll keep them safe,' she said, eyes steady and clear.

And then Nilsson was urging them away, leaving Rashel to hope Nyala didn't jump at shadows, and that she herself was being paranoid.

He led them down a long hallway, pausing to ask Fayth to wait in a vast living room, before knocking a few doors down and opening the door for them with a small bow.

It was Thierry's office — large, like everything in this mansion. Lots of dark wood — the book cases, the coffee table, his desk — contrasted with the pale cream walls, sofas and office chair. There was a plush, golden rug beneath the coffee table, and gold accents and decor around the room.

Thierry fitted his room very well, with his pale tan suit, white-blond hair and dark eyes. He was sitting behind his desk, but he gestured to the two seats in front of it with a smile.

'Well, this isn't quite how I'd envisioned this meeting playing out, given the scene at the car,' he said lightly as they took their seats, Rashel shamelessly hanging her sword bag on the back of the chair before sitting down. 'I suppose it goes to show there's always an opportunity to learn, even for me. However, let me officially welcome you to Circle Daybreak. I believe we have a great deal to discuss. Quinn, I do know some of your history, though quite how you've ended up here will be enlightening. Rashel, however, is a different story. If what Fayth said is true, I suspect I've heard a lot about you, and how you have interacted with the Night World thus far, but could you start with what, exactly, led you to us in the first place?'

Rashel glanced at Quinn, judging where to start.

There was only one place, really, though she'd gotten very good at summarising over the years. 'When I was five, a vampire killed my mother…'

#my fanfiction #night world series #the night world series #Rashel/Quinn #Rashel Jordan #John Quinn #The Chosen L. J. Smith