The chilly autumn air raised goosebumps on her exposed skin, her awareness of the eyes staring at her in the half-light cast by several bonfires straightening her back and raising her chin. The chains holding her hands in place cut into her wrists, her vulnerability raising her ire.

Blood already trickled from three thin healing lines across her back, the sting and burn bringing tears to her eyes. Darkness already danced at the edge of her vision; how would she bear seventeen more blows?

The knowledge that Gabriel dealt her punishment, as he would for any of his soldiers, steadied her, strengthening her determination not to shame him.

He did not hold back or hesitate, and the next blow split her skin, almost buckling her knees, but as the slow beat of her heart meted out the regulation twenty seconds, she recovered her footing. The whip cut the air and slapped against her soft flesh. She jerked as it snapped back, and a muffled sob almost escaped her.

If she fainted, the proceedings would stop, and she'd be revived with a bucket of ice water. They'd return tomorrow night if she couldn't continue, and she'd be seen as a weakling unworthy of her father's blood.

Tears trickled down her face, and at some point, she lost count, confused and shivering uncontrollably as her punishment continued with clockwork precision. She bit on her teeth so hard they hurt, and blood tainted her mouth as she forced her whimpers and cries not to turn into screams.

Her consciousness shrunk to a pinpoint as strong arms lifted her and released the chains that rubbed her wrists raw. Something warm and soft covered her.

"It's over, Angel."

Was that really Gabriel speaking, or was she delirious? It hurt when he picked her up, and she hissed in pain.

"Shh, be brave just a little bit longer."

His words confused her. Had she been brave?

***

She came half awake at the entrance to a room that wasn't hers but didn't care. Someone tugged at the cloak draped around her, and Gillian protested.

"It's okay, shh," a woman soothed.

The sensation of being lowered into hot water came as a painful shock, and she resisted, but Gabriel's voice brought her up short. The wounds were still healing, but very slowly.

"Come on, Guiliane, they are trying to ease your pain," he murmured, and she stopped fighting, bearing the pain as best she could.

They washed the blood from her and cleaned and tended the remaining injuries as she shivered uncontrollably despite the heat, struggling to cling to awareness.

They carried her to a bench covered in soft pillows, and she succumbed to the darkness.

***

Nightmares tormented her, and it was past dawn when lucidity returned. Her healed wounds remained tender, her muscles achy and weak.

Sometime during the night, a human woman offered her wrist to Gillian, but not trusting herself, she refused, feeling like death warmed over.

"Was it worth it?" A voice asked, and she jerked, struggling to focus on the woman indolently sitting on the windowsill, staring at her and not out at the gardens. She recognized the scent of Gabriel's blood first.

"Was what worth it?" she asked, slowly gathering the courage to sit upright.

"Suffering all that punishment for your humans?" Elissa drawled, and Gillian shuddered, weakness washing over her like a dark tide.

"Kyla? I think my sister will be less rude now that she's lucid."

The human entered and curtsied in Elissa's direction, who nodded at her in encouragement. Gillian spotted uncertainty and fear in Kyla's gaze and hated it.

"Was I rude to you?" she asked gently, and Kyla nodded.

"You told her to fuck off," Elissa nettled, and heat seared Gillian's cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I am not used to fresh blood and did not wish to harm you." The flush extended to her ears, and it wasn't something she was used to.

Most humans believed vampires couldn't blush because they were the "undead." A ridiculous concept—dead things were dead. Zombies were a myth, and whatever strange twist of human DNA created them had a peculiar sense of humor. Even among their kind, myths abound. From a mysterious illness that swept an ancient roman camp to the bite of a cursed vampire bat.

Admitting her weakness before Elissa made her wish that the ground would open and swallow her.

"Can I trust you with our staff now?" Elissa asked, her mirth gone.

Gillian didn't want fresh blood. She hadn't had it in five years and didn't want it now, but resisting it—when it was so tantalizingly near it made her mouth water—took every ounce of her will. Was that respect she saw in Elissa's gaze?

Vampires were not immortal, and although they barely aged, as if their cells were not wired to decay, they could be killed. They healed rapidly, and it wasn't fair that their strength and speed far surpassed that of their prey. Then again, nature made lions, sharks, and wolves to hunt defenseless things.

"Father insists, and there are no blood baggies here. You are too weak to stand, and that is unacceptable." Elissa cocked her head to one side, puzzled by Gillian's resistance. "Do I hold you down, or will you obey our king?" Elissa taunted, and Gillian's spine stiffened.

"I am no newborn to be held," she gritted out between her teeth, and Elissa smirked.

"I believed the same thing the first time I got badly wounded and almost ripped someone's throat out. I didn't lose half as much blood as you did, though."

Elissa made no effort to move.

Kyla hesitated but overcame her fear and seated herself beside Gillian. The human's heart thundered unsteadily, and it unsettled her.

***

She hadn't done this in so long that she almost didn't remember how, and Elissa's presence disconcerted her, but she was the safety net—they could not afford for their staff to fear them, especially not the donors.

Feeding was personal, and doing it in front of another felt alien to her. Gillian folded Kyla into her arms and gently pulled her back as the donor's head automatically tilted to one side. She lightly took hold of the woman's chin to hold her in place and sunk her teeth into the artery with a swift and clean motion. After a few seconds, Kyla relaxed.

She felt clumsy after so long, taking greedy little gulps, and her body tingled as it healed. Still a little hungry, she firmly removed her fangs and licked the wounds once. They closed as if they were never there, and she held Kyla until she had recovered from the sway of Gillian's will.

"Are you alright?" she asked, and Kyla nodded.

Gillian shifted away, and Kyla stood with no sign of dizziness. A pure-blood needed very little blood since their bodies were very efficient. Not even a made vampire could drink more than two pints of blood, but they ripped out the throat if they lost control.

"Quite a will you have, sister," Elissa murmured, placing her feet on the floor as she considered Gillian. "Father ordered me to go with you and assess the situation with your killer. I am your superior, and I will decide what needs doing. You will obey me in all things, are we clear?" Elissa watched her nod, and Gillian sensed her power—there was no doubt about her lineage.

"Let's get you some clothes; those robes are a little stained," Elissa teased and walked out.

Gillian rubbed self-consciously at the tiny stains. She'd never been teased by her sister before, yet it seemed fitting. Right. Especially now that she was used to humans and how they interacted.

A frown furrowed her brow. What would happen if they did solve the case? Would she have to leave the human world and return to her home? It seemed likely. She hated the idea, but she had made her choice. Each hour they spent here gave the Vigilante an advantage. What would he do with two royal vampires to impress, and how did Elissa intend to explain her presence?