The awkwardly tall, skinny man in front of me looked familiar. Long narrow pale face. A slightly hooked nose between high cheekbones. I thought I had seen him in one of the pictures Archie showed us a few days ago. The alluring pale silver eyes said it all. Though he wasn’t exactly as beautiful as the rest of his brothers, he was unmistakably one of them. One of Reaper’s sons. Based on his height and body built alone, I knew he wasn’t the mystery intruder who sabotaged the Gates in Centralia. But he could still be an enemy. In panic, I started to flick my wrist to summon my Cataclyst.

With some interest, the newcomer looked at my hand. “You don’t want to do that,” he said, still smiling casually.

The incredibly huge cat and the fruit bat were both silent but alert of my every movement.

Stay put. Don’t do anything rash. Vincent replied in an urgent tone.

I let my Cataclyst falter before it could even form. Before I knew it, Vincent and Byron Flynn were already in front of me. For a moment, no one said anything. The cat and Byron Flynn growled menacingly before they pounced at each other. They tumbled on the floor, both baring a set of sharp teeth, snapping wildly at one another’s necks. The cat’s fangs were about more than five inches so Byron Flynn didn’t exactly have the upper hand.

Before I could even think of joining the fight, Vincent grabbed my arm and whispered, “Don’t panic. Look.”

Byron Flynn was on his back while the giant furry cat bit one of his legs. When the cat let go, there wasn’t any wound or bite mark. In retaliation, Byron Flynn tackled the cat and playfully tossed it like an oversized toy. The cat landed on all fours and they began chasing each other all over the hallways. Maybe it was their disturbing idea of playtime.

“Well, isn’t this a development?” the man said, uneasily tugging the collar of his off-white turtleneck undershirt. “I see you finally took a familiar, Vincent.”

Vincent straightened and offered a hand to the newcomer. Instead of shaking it, the tall man looked at my master’s hand and gave us a rueful smile. He shrugged off his dazzling Nysmic coat and started fanning a gloved hand on his face as beads of sweat formed on his wide forehead. I noticed a Roman numeral eight etched on the inner aspect of his right arm. The Eighth Son.

“There’s always a first time for everything, Max,” Vincent answered without moving a facial muscle.

“And you’ve chosen well,” mumbled the man called Max, not even blinking as his silver eyes swept on me from head to toe. Gently, he took my hand from Vincent, making me jump a bit. “Maximilian Herondale, at your service, Miss…”

“A-Aramis… Aramis Rayne,” I stammered. I didn’t like the way he looked at me.

“A pleasure,” Max said, leaning over to touch his lips on the back of my hand.

Quickly, I took my hand from him. Just then, Vincent pulled me beside him. I dropped my gaze on the floor; a trick I learned from Mei. Apparently, familiars weren’t supposed to look at masters directly in the eyes. Doing otherwise would be disrespectful. The Sinclairs didn’t mind breaking old traditions but this guy might.

“So what brings you here?” Vincent finally asked as we walked along the dimly lit corridors heading to the study room.

The two brothers walked side by side. I followed, head lowered, keeping a couple of steps behind, watching as the shadows cast by the magnificent shell lamps frolic on the floor. Another ancient rule. Familiars should always walk behind the masters. So I did.

“Louise,” Max called shakily and the fruit bat perched on his shoulder tilted its gray head. “Go find Antoinette. Make sure she doesn’t break anything in the house until I summon the two of you.” After that, he reluctantly faced Vincent. “Business, as usual.”

Antoinette, I presumed, was the gray and gold oversized cat. Louise, the fruit bat stretched two feet of wide purplish leathery wings before flapping off of Max’s shoulder and disappearing into the corridor where Byron Flynn and Antoinette ran off.

When we reached the study, Vladimir was intently studying the Centralia surveillance monitor, switching from one section to another. At the most, we still had four major Gates and seven minor ones. Doors didn’t count because they usually close after some time and we would have to reopen them. Archie was standing like a sentinel by his master’s side. Once the familiar saw us coming, he automatically dropped his gaze and placed a tray on the table. Then, he poured tea into three cups.

“Maximilian,” Vladimir acknowledged his brother’s presence without even glancing at us.

“Vladimir,” replied Max. “Still having problems with the Gates?”

The boy spun in his swiveling chair and faced us, removing his glasses. “As a matter of fact, yes. You wouldn’t possibly have an idea who’s causing it, would you?” His face was unreadable.

Max let out a nervous chuckle as he seated himself across Vladimir. “Unfortunately, no. I’m a businessman, brother. I only have eyes for stuff that speaks profit. Or pretty girls.” He winked at me and I flinched. “If there’s no cash or trade involved, then I’m out of it. And speaking of business, I’ll have the merchandise delivered in two days.”

“You came all the way here to tell us that?” Vincent muttered dubiously before slumping on the nearest chair, setting his feet onto the edge of the table.

“Of course not,” Max grinned, all signs of being intimidated erased in an instant. “Boy, do I have a deal for you.”

He fumbled on the inside pockets of his suit and finally pulled out a small silver scroll about the size of a toothpaste tube. Protectively, he placed it on the table and gave a meaningful look to both his brothers.

“You’re kidding!” Vladimir excitedly hoisted himself on his seat and leaned over to look at the scroll.

With a shake of his head, Max chuckled again. “Oh no, I’m not, Vlad. This baby is the real thing,” he replied with pride.

“Where on earth did you get it?” Vladimir asked, about to touch it when Max threw him a dirty look. The boy withdrew his hands, eyes still glued on the scroll.

“I have my sources,” Max replied. “And I don’t divulge any privileged information about my clients. Otherwise, I’ll either be dead or worse, bankrupt.”

Vincent grunted and snatched the scroll from the table. “Okay, what are we talking about again?” he muttered, not hiding his annoyance at being left out of the conversation.

Max didn’t look too happy about that. A little scared even. In panic, he stood up, knocking his  knees against the table. He tried to grab the scroll from Vincent but was too uncoordinated to do so. With a crooked smile, Vincent started to toss the scroll around the study room, only to catch it again safely in his hands.

“Don’t break it!” Max yelled anxiously as he watched it bounce in and out of Vincent’s hand. “Make him stop!” he yelled to Vladimir who just shrugged.

“If I could, I would’ve done so, Max,” the boy replied with disinterest.

Even he couldn’t control Vincent. No one could. And Vincent seemed to be enjoying the look on Max’s face. I could tell The Eight was thinking twice about stepping closer to my master. A little afraid, maybe. Resigned, Max weakly flopped back onto his seat and rested his trembling hands on the table.

“The Riddle of Chasms,” The Eighth said in a papery voice. “It is a book made by Father himself. It contains the most cryptic enchantments about Spirit Portals. One of which is how to lock and unlock Gates. Just the thing you need to open those deactivated Gates in Centralia. Not many of us knew anything about it, but when Vladimir introduced the idea of the scroll’s possible existence to me, I had Alex do a research about it.”

Vladimir nodded pensively. “I’ve only read about The Riddle of Chasms in The Book of Immortals. Most of us thought it was a myth. I never really knew if it existed until now. It must be rare.”

“The only one of its kind, according to Alex,” Max corrected smugly.

With a hint of disgust, Vincent set the scroll back on the middle of the long table. “I couldn’t care less where the hell you got that thing, Max. But having a scroll as dangerous as that is as good as having a nuclear reactor in our pockets.”

Vladimir just fixed his eyes on Max. “How much for it?” he demanded with a poker face, ignoring Vincent’s protests.

A wide triumphant grin started to spread on Max’s face. “Oh, no. You don’t have to pay for it.” When his brothers threw suspicious looks at him, Max patted his forehead with a handkerchief. “Just seeing Alex back in his zone again is enough compensation,” he explained. “The challenge of finding this scroll finally got him motivated about something again. It actually feels good not having a zombie for a brother for once. Besides, with my line of work being risky and all, I might need help from you guys someday,” he twitchily laughed.

It could be a trick. I knew Vladimir was well aware of that but he accepted the offer nonetheless. For all we knew, Max could’ve stolen the scroll from Pilgrim Reaper. If not, whoever handed it to him must be someone influential with an ulterior motive. The scroll seemed to be the answer to all our problems and it came in perfect timing. And for a businessman to not want anything in return for such prized merchandise, something smelled fishy. It was too coincidental but I didn’t voice that out.

As the brothers said their goodbyes in front of The Eighth’s very own Spirit Door, Louise and Antoinette—bat and cat, respectively—showed up to meet their master by the doorstep. Byron Flynn appeared a bit upset that his playmates would have to go so soon. In contrary, I was just relieved to see Max go.

Before he left, Max shook hands with Vladimir. Vincent just stood in a corner, looking away while seemingly deep in thought.

“Take care, Max,” Vladimir said. “And give my best to Alexis. Tell him he did an excellent job of tracking the scroll’s whereabouts.”

“I will,” he nodded with a small smile—the first one that actually reached his pale metallic eyes. If that ever told me something, it was that Max cared a lot about this Alexis guy.

Before he could step into the Door, Vincent held him up. “And Max,” he called, his face void of any emotion. “If any word about my familiar spreads out, you know I’ll hunt both of you down, don’t you?”

Max froze and nodded silently without facing his youngest brother.

Vincent snorted. “I can think of several hundreds of ways torture someone. And with the violent, twisted thoughts inside my head, you’ll probably reckon by now that Oblivion is way better that being left to my devices.”

“I… know that,” Max replied, barely even whispering before stepping into the Door and disappearing from our sight.

I only managed to relax when I was sure Max was gone. For some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to trust his word even with Vincent’s threats. My dad used to say, ‘If there are two kinds of people you can’t trust, it would be cops and businessmen.’ Give it one week tops. I told myself. Pilgrim Reaper would come for me one day to deliver my death sentence. No matter what, Vincent shouldn’t die too because of me. As of now, I didn’t have any idea how to do that, but I swore I would.

I consulted Rosario and Mei about this the second they came home from routine patrol. After throwing a fit, Rosario finally managed to calm down and stopped bombarding me with cuss words. In any other day, I wouldn’t have minded shoving a big bar of soap into her mouth, but my head was just too preoccupied with what happened.

There was no room for false hopes now. I decided to throw away my naiveties. Families didn’t matter for immortals. The Master Reaper would not value family ties as much as I did.

“Crossing over peacefully to Nirvana’s already out of the question. If the Grand Master already knows of your existence, we’ll have to enter you to his talent show then,” Rosario finally said, deep in thought. When I threw her a dubious look, she moaned irritably and sat in front of her carved mahogany dresser. “Oh, I forgot how clueless you are. We will have to use the Grand Master’s weaknesses to keep you and Master Vincent away from the death row.”

Mei took my hand and sat beside me. “Master Pilgrim cannot resist bargains. He is notorious for making deals with both mortals and immortals. Some say it is an addiction. But he has another weakness.”

“And what could that be?” I asked, not really wanting to hear the answer. The idea that I would have to inevitably face Death in the flesh someday totally redefined the meaning of terrified for me.

It was Rosario who smiled crookedly and gave me a light tap on the cheek. “Talent, Aramis. Perform a few tricks in front of the Grand Master and hope he gets entertained enough.”

“What she meant is,” Mei began with an expression that was even more severe than Rosario’s. “… you must prove that you are too exceptional to dispatch. You can open Doors, Aramis. I know not one familiar, dead or alive, who can do that. If that’s enough to subdue the Reaper’s anger upon Master Vincent’s disregard with the Law of Immortals, we are not sure. But it is the best hope we have.”

I couldn’t say anything. My mind was overrun with fear and panic. Why on earth would the Reaper want someone who could open Doors when he and his sons could already do that by means of summons? Mei and Rosario must have run out of solutions. It was easier to believe there was still hope than say frankly that me and my master were bound for doom.

In front of us, Rosario picked a framed picture from the table. It was the whole cabal sitting under the giant willow tree in the yard—probably taken just a few years ago. Silently, she gazed fondly at it. She might not be vocal about it, but I could feel how much she valued every member, especially, Vincent.

“If ever he deemed you worthy to keep alive, the Grand Master might ask you to swear fealty to him in exchange of Master Vincent’s life… and yours,” Rosario finally said, looking up to us. “You don’t want to be his pet. No one in their right mind would. But if it would save your master’s life, I say do it. Master Vincent wouldn’t approve of this, of course, but he wouldn’t have to know.”

Silently, I nodded. I knew Pilgrim Reaper wanted to use Vincent’s ability to find a way to escape his eternal punishment and crossover to the Realm of Immortals. To Nirvana. If he succeeded, who knew what sort of chaos would erupt? But that wasn’t the point. I had to choose between the world in general and my master. Or think of a plan. Something… anything to protect both.

Incredulously, I shook my head. Madness straight ahead. Did I really think that I could save the world? Before I could question my sanity, Rosario’s door flung open.

Amyr came in to the room panting, barely even able to catch his breath before delivering the message we had all been waiting for days.

“Sorry to interrupt your girl-time, ladies,” he said with a wry grin. “We got a situation. Our intruder is back.”