The fireflies lingered with us until we reached the vast courtyard of The Halo. They perched on the carefully trimmed hedges strewn alongside the walkway, illuminating the white lilies gazing up at the dark sky. An enormous fountain was the centerpiece of the flowery landscape, in the center of which, stood a white marble statue of a beautiful lady who could only be Mistress Roselle Sinclair, gazing longingly at the sky, frozen perpetually in time as water flowed endlessly from her cupped hands, refracting the lights and showering the whole place with rainbow colors.

For a moment, Vincent and Vladimir glanced at the statue of their mother before rallying us into the front entrance where a beautiful russet-skinned young lady in a hot pink sari waited for us by the granite stairs. She was a bit skinny, slightly taller than me. Her dark brown curly hair flowed to the back of her bare waist. I strained to see the marking on the side of her neck, but unlike all of us, she had no number; just the infinity sign.

"Sharifa!" Amyr exclaimed, hurrying up the stairs to embrace the lady who didn't look bothered at all. "You're smokin' hot tonight," he added, making her twirl.

The lady called Sharifa just answered with a bashful smile, tugging on her long flowing sleeves and furtively rubbing where Amyr held her. Upon seeing Vladimir and Vincent, she automatically dropped her gaze, took two steps back and bowed waist-low—the traditional gesture of greeting for us familiars, something to remind us of our inferiority.

"Welcome, Masters," she greeted, still with her pale eyes—very much like the Reapers' metallic silver ones—fixed on the floor.

"There's no need for that kind of formality, sister," Vladimir replied, approaching Sharifa to take her hand.

Throwing nervous glances around, the lady recoiled. "Please forgive me. I cannot be seen being so disrespectful of the Masters." Her voice shook, hands fisted on her sides.

"Is Father punishing you again?" Vladimir's tone went a notch higher, his constantly docile face now painted with anger. "You shouldn't tolerate this, Sharifa. You're his only daughter—"

"Only when I've defied his orders," she replied calmly and with conviction as though she was reciting a passage from the bible. "I am but a familiar and always will be. The Grand Master is free to teach discipline by any means he sees fit."

Vladimir told me all about his eleven other brothers. But he never mentioned that he had a sister. And that she was a familiar like me. I noticed that she was barefooted, inadvertently catching glance of a bluish discoloration on her lower leg but I couldn't be sure.

If otherwise happened. Vladimir's voice rang in my ears again, sending jolts to my toes. Given that I died in my scheduled time of death, Pilgrim Reaper would've come for me, t8ook my soul. Turned me into one of his slaves because whatever Alessandra Clandestine did, he wanted her and for some reason, that roused his interest on me. If Death could hurt his own daughter and treat her like a lowly slave, what more for me?

"They are here," Sharifa announced politely, her eerie moonlike eyes averted from her brothers.

From the mosaic stone bridge, there were four figures. Two tall men and hunkered silhouettes, possibly, animals. The fireflies, alerted by the newcomers' presence, flew from the bushes and drifted closer to the bridge as if to welcome the guests. Soon, I saw a familiar tall figure—pale face, hooked nose, skinny built—accompanied by an enormous cat creature with yellow and silver striped fur coat and a grayish-purple fruit bat flapping by his side.

Maximilian Herondale's face paled more at the sight of us, his thin lips curving into a strained smile. Beside him, an equally tall, young man eyed on us. From the previous pictures Archie had shown us, I recognized him as Alexis, The Seventh. To say that this person might be the most beautiful guy I had seen in my entire life wasn't an exaggeration—high cheek bones, perfectly angled jaws, an infinitesimal cleft on his chin, a pair of sad silver eyes. It was actually the first time I saw Rosario gaping. I mean I wasn't that kind of girl but... sigh.

"I shall now lead you to the main hall," prompted Sharifa as the other cabal treaded the marble steps toward the wide archway. But before the familiar could turn around, Vincent disappeared into a white blur. In a split second, he was already pinning Max against one of the gilded stone pillars, his knuckles white as he clamped a hand around the tall man's neck.

"I warned you," Vincent muttered through his teeth, his eyes burning with murderous intent.

Surprisingly, Max let out an odd gurgling sound, both hands limp on his sides. It seemed like he was laughing. "I... didn't... tell anyone," he choked out apologetically. "R-reapers' honor."

Cursing silently, Vincent shoved the lanky businessman away. Max slammed onto the rustic stone wall, coughing and gasping for breath as he doubled over. All the while, his familiars and his brother watched the whole scene without making any move. It didn't even look like Alexis was paying any attention by the way his pensive eyes flitted from one spot to another.

"Vincent," Vladimir called in a calm but ominous tone. Almost at once, my master stiffened and stepped away from Max. "Forgive him, brothers. It seems his impulse has gotten the best of his self-control once again."

"More like he's trying to kill me," Max complained, feeling his throat. "Okay. For the record, I didn't tell anyone. Except Alex. So technically, this is all a certain someone's fault for not cleaning up after his own mess." He threw a derisive look toward Vincent.

Vincent feigned a strike, leaving Max cowering behind a pillar. "A certain someone should watch his stupid mouth before I shut it for him permanently," my master threatened.

Shaking his head in a resigned manner, Vladimir smoothed the furrow between his brows and gestured for us to get a move on, which we did. Alexis followed us, both hands busy fumbling on a miniature black, white, red and gray-colored Rubik's cube while he stared blankly to his left as though admiring a scenery that was invisible to the rest of us.

Our footfalls echoed against the polished black granite interior of the Reapers castle. The hallways were stark and empty I could almost see various distorted reflections on the gilded walls, on the tall ribbed ceiling and on the glossy floor as if we were inside a mirror house. At the end of the corridor, I saw people lined to an arched entryway draped with deep red velvet curtains.

"Master Pierre, The Sixth," a balding old man in white flowing robes announced just as the curtains parted sideways, leading to a cavernous hall.

A boy, maybe younger than Vladimir took a step forward, nodding gently at our direction before marching into the hall with two familiars falling one step behind him. The old man then announced Alexis' and Maximilian's arrival. As the Herondales trudged along the black carpet leading to the hall, Max looked relieved to get away from us. More specifically, Vincent alone. Next in line was Joaquim, The Ninth—a flushed-faced, smiling young gentleman with curly dark hair, who suspiciously smelled of red wine.

When it was Kyoshiro's turn to be announced, Mei straightened on her spot, her eyes fixing on the boy's scarred face. As if he hadn't seen us, The Tenth entered the hall, marching proudly in his gray and blue ceremonial kimono with under a white flowing haori. Hector, The Eleventh, a lanky, raven-haired boy with wild curious eyes, came next in a light gray hooded monk's robe.

"Well, here we go," Vladimir said after he got called into the hall.

Silently, his five familiars followed him, head slightly bowed, eyes on the floor, hands on the sides. They disappeared behind the curtains. The vein on my neck started to pound violently.  I swallowed several times, assuming my position behind Vincent who complacently waited for the announcement of his entrance.

He cleared his throat before furtively mumbling, "Slight smile, eyes down, chin up—"

"Sure strides," I finished it for him. "Got it." My face turned to rubber. I forgot how to move my muscles to portray the correct expression. I forced my lips to pull up a bit, straightening the furrow on my forehead as the curtains drew, watching the old man's lips open to announce Vincent's name. In that very moment I couldn't  hear anything but my breathing, everything slowing down into a blur as I lifted my foot forward in synchrony with Vincent's.

From the sides of my eyes, I could see that no one was moving. Every pair of eyes in the domed expanse of the grand hall locked on us, drilling through my skull. It was the longest walk of my life I thought the stretch of black carpet wouldn't end. Upon reaching the front of the hall, we faced the crowd and bowed. We headed to the table right next to Vladimir and the rest of the cabal.

"Grand Master Pilgrim Reaper," the old man said aloud, thumping the butt of his silver staff against the granite floor twice.

The crimson curtains parted, revealing a tall man in his mid-thirties, pulling down the hood of his black cloak to show his handsome face. Pilgrim Reaper's smile was warm as he made his way to the platform where grand black throne studded with red gems waited for him. Sharifa and the balding old man carefully treaded behind the Grand Master, along with a teenage boy in a gray pin-striped suit whose neatly-cropped blond hair was so fair, it was almost white. Across the table, Archie loosened his tie, throwing an inconspicuous glance at Vladimir.

"In due time, old friend. In due time," said the boy to Archie, all intent on watching his father.

Pilgrim Reaper faced his guests, opening his arms with a welcoming smile and kind eyes. It was as if I was thrown back to that day when Mom died—the same day Pilgrim Reaper took her soul. Took her from Marcel and me. The ramming in my throat was immediately replaced by sheer hatred. When my arms couldn't stop shaking, I furtively grabbed Vincent's hand. He didn't move a muscle and kept glowering ahead so I guess it was okay.

"This is an eventful night," Pilgrim began in a story-telling voice as his eyes swept the hall. "I'm deeply relieved that no one brought their pitchforks and torches," he added letting out a sigh, followed by polite chuckles, mostly coming from the first five tables—His pets composed of the first four sons and their familiars. Everybody else was just silent. "It's been nearly a century since we last saw each other I almost forgot I had sons. Consider this as what mortals would call a family reunion. So, for the night, let us set aside our differences and conflicts and enjoy as much as we can. Let the ball begin!"

Shuffling noises filled the air as all of the familiars—including me—went to the center of the ballroom, forming a big circle for the tribute dance. The orchestra started to play a lively music, filling the air with euphoria. We started to dance as rehearsed. Every twirl, every sway, every hop was harmonized as though we were one body moving coordinately. The others must've been doing this for centuries now it was as easy as breathing. When the dance ended, we bowed low and headed back to our masters to lead them to the dance floor as customary.

"I miss not having a familiar," Vincent grumbled as we reached the center of the hall. "Back then, I didn't have to oblige."

I did a curtsy before snatching his hand. "At least now, you don't have to sit in a corner. Alone," I retorted in an undertone as familiars and masters alike occupied the middle of the hall.

"At least I didn't get a cat for a date," he muttered, letting out a faint hump and tilting his head to where the Herondale brothers sat with their Elemental familiars, Antoinette and Louise. I had to press my lips together to force back a laugh as we danced. To my right, Mei was literally dancing with Byron Flynn, making occasional twirls and jumps.

"I should let you know," I mumbled, looking up to Vincent. "That's the weirdest thing I've ever seen in my life."

Vincent snorted. "Alex used to have a familiar," he explained, his eyes trailing somewhere far away. "Her name was Sasha."

"What happened to her?" I asked, almost stepping on his foot. Good thing he was swift enough to avoid it.

"Sasha," he repeated the name vacantly. "Alex... he married her. That's what happened."

With a sullen look Vincent towed me back to our seats. Grudgingly, he downed the wine glass on the table and swallowed it forcefully.

"She got pregnant," he went on. "... which was a first in all immortal history. While giving birth, Sasha and her son died. No one knew why since it never happened before. And no one else dared to try. It wasn't the natural order of things. The higher-ups must be pulling all the strings to stop it from happening. Master and familiar ought to know their places. There's a line between us that shouldn't be crossed."

Wordlessly, I nodded as my eyes mechanically searched for Alexis through the crowd. I saw him gazing broodingly through the arched ceiling-to-floor window. From my spot, I could see a few specks of red light—Glitches—drifting aimlessly above the water that surrounded the entire castle. They were slow but moving, unlike the ones in Centralia.

Plates of food were brought to those who were sitting, liquor served like there's no tomorrow. A long buffet table was set up near the dance floor, just beside the violin and piano orchestra. The food smelled appetizing but with the turbulence in my stomach, I doubted if I could hold it down. I picked up a grape from a fruit platter and nibbled on it. After my sixth grape—which felt like a couple of hours—I saw Archie approach the orchestra to have a word with the pianist.

"That's us," Vincent prompted, snatching my hand to drag me back to the middle of the hall.

Just as the music stopped, the dancing ceased and everyone started to go back to their tables until no one but Vincent and I remained standing.

"Where's Vlad?" I hissed inconspicuously when Vincent stepped in front of me where his brother was supposed to be positioned at this very moment. Vincent bowed and I automatically curtsied as if my body knew what to do even before I could even think. From a corner, Vladimir stood smirking at us. This wasn't the plan. He said he would be my partner. I gave him a panicky look which he answered with a smile that said it's not my fault.

"If I don't die tonight, I'm totally going to kill that little squirt," I muttered under my breath.

Exasperatedly, Vincent tightened his arm around my waist, giving me a start. "Try not to make me lose face more than I already have," he muttered as Chopin's Waltz number ten in B minor filled the hall with a mystic melody, courtesy of none other than Archie and the orchestra.

My hands were cold and shaking as we waltzed, covering the vast floor as if it were ours. As we glided in endless circles, I caught glance of Cairo—a young, square-faced boy in white flowing robes with silver trimmings—glaring at us. I had the urge to recoil and run to a corner with the realization that everyone was watching at me. My mouth tasted of bile and grape juice. My temples were pulsing like crazy. That was usually a bad sign.

"Don't look at them," Vincent whispered as though sensing my unease. "Look at me. Forget everything else."

When I lifted my eyes to meet his, the fluttering in my stomach worsened three times. I struggled hard to remember every step of the Viennese Waltz. One two three. One two three... Effortlessly, he took me around, closing the small gap between us with every step. I could feel his placid breathing and the warmth of his hand seeping through my palm, my fingers.

"This is the worst idea ever. Why do we always listen to your brother?" I moaned quietly, fixing my gaze on his chin instead to keep me from being distracted.

"He'll cry if we don't," he smirked, reluctantly placing his hands on my waist to lift me up. "Please don't tell him I said that."

An involuntary smile painted on my face when he set me down. "If you start being nicer to me, maybe I'll think about it."

He pretended pressed his lips into a thin line. "Considering as we don't have much time left to stall and haggle. Ah, what the heck. It's a deal."

"Okay," I said, my smile widening in triumph. "No more yelling."

"How can I when you're always this annoying?" He let out an annoyed grunt when I narrowed my eyes at him. "Do you know how hard it is to not be mad whenever you—" Cursing, he clenched his teeth to stop whatever he was about to say.

"And no more secrets," I added, measuring his reaction. Before he could protest, I went on. "I was drowned by a Swarth. Now, I can't set foot in a pool without shrieking like a lunatic.  And I forgive you even if you didn't say you're sorry. You owe me at least that."

I forgave him. Even I was surprised to find that I was speaking the truth. At least that what my heart was telling me. I forgave him.

As if startled, Vincent let out a deep sigh and nodded gazing at me . "No more secrets," he said.

Still with the look of surprise in his silver eyes, he took my hand and made me pirouette twice, making the ruffles and folds of my gown puff out, spreading outwards like petals of a black rose in bloom. A hushed rumble of whispers resounded throughout the hall as Archie struck the last few notes of the music piece.

I curtsied again in front of my master, now with a smile on my face. He didn't do a customary gesture which was the display of superiority of masters over familiars. Instead, Vincent took my hand and placed it over the crook of his arm. Like a perfect gentleman.

As we made our way back to our tables, I could hear nothing but the sound of my heart and our footfalls. Inside my head I was screaming like an idiot. It's not working! It's not freaking working! Damn that brat! Before I could even reach my seat, Alexis walked up to me and held out his hand to me.

"Aramis," he started in a quiet smooth voice. "May I have this dance?"