As the first figures began to emerge from the far side of the cemetery, I felt my muscles tense and that awfully familiar sense of fear begin to creep through my veins. I spotted five figures in total. I had expected an arrogant show of strength, a small army maybe, so I couldn't help but agree with Harper's sentiment. This all just seemed too civilised.

The five approached, dressed literally for business, wearing that staple long dark coat and suit, so typical of the Walter and Noble office-wear and as they got closer I was stunned to see Grayson Walter and Richard Noble themselves leading the way.

Grayson Walter, I had discovered quite early on in my relationship with Brandon, was a charmer, your typical silver fox with an equally silver tongue. Never overly flirtatious or creepy in his attention, he was ever the gentleman but in a way that made your heart beat a little faster every time he fixed those steely blue eyes on you. I always thought he had a touch of Paul Newman about him, tall, strong and athletically-built despite his late fifty-something years. Looking at him through my vampire eyes, I wondered how I could ever have not seen the beast that lay under the surface, because right now all I could detect was the cold menace that emanated from him in great waves.

I had however, always thought that there was something undeniably dark about Richard Noble. He was the older of the two men, quiet where Grayson was chatty and amiable, as repellant as Grayson was attractive. I had often found myself struck dumb under his piercing gaze and no matter what assurances Brandon had given, I had always felt as if Richard had disapproved of me. Well, I knew now that he had disapproved of me, in fact they all had, because I had been the one Brandon had dangled in front of them to show what a big bad senior alpha he was. I had been the one allowing him to keep one foot in the human world to prove that he was the one in control. 

Standing close to Grayson was Daniel, that other big bad alpha who looked the least comfortable with this little graveyard soirée of ours. His eyes darted all around the cemetery, eyeing the apartment blocks on all sides as if anticipating an attack. I could see him fighting the monster, his skin rippling as he cricked his neck round on his shoulders, trying to ease the clear tension that taunted him.

And then there was Brandon.

He flanked Richard, to whom he was somehow related in their twisted family tree and it was only now that I could see how evident this really was. There was something in their expression, a quiet brooding darkness that looked ready to splinter and crack.

Brandon stared directly at Garrick and did not look my way as he stood with his hands by his side, the Cartier cufflinks that I had bought for him the Christmas just past peeking out from under the cuffs of his Paul Smith coat. I couldn't help but steal glances at him, pained at how he could look so much like my husband and yet also like a complete stranger. His unruly curls, which I could still recall running my fingers through, had been combed into some semblance of order but that wasn't unusual when he was playing at being the hot shot city lawyer. And it seemed his appearance was all about business tonight and I might have been fooled by that if it weren't for the fact I could smell the foul Varúlfur stench that hung stagnant in the frozen air. How easy it was to see beyond the facade when your eyes were fully open.

 Yet, despite being faced with the man with whom not so long ago I had shared a life, it was not him nor his associates who caught my attention but the fifth figure, who held back from the group, half-hidden behind the Varúlfur. All the pungent beast odour in the world could not hide the fact that this man was not one of them.

He was human.

His heart beat slow and steady, clearly unruffled by the company in which he found himself and a sweet smell of lotion drifted over, as if he had recently slathered his hands in moisturising cream, maybe to combat the drying effects of the cold winter air. A wide brimmed black felt hat kept his face half-cloaked in shadow. Could this be the mysterious client who was willing to pay millions for Lucius?

"Mr Garrick," Grayson said, breaking the tense stand-off. "So glad to see that you took our invitation in good faith." He smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. It was his lawyer smile, the one that never reached his eyes which remained coldly surveying us, shrewdly drinking each of us in. When his gaze reached me, he froze and I wondered if he was seeing what I could see when I looked back at him; his daughter Clara, her long blonde hair framing her death mask as she clutched at her bleeding swollen belly. Maybe this was why I had been summoned, so that he could enact revenge on the one who had slaughtered his daughter. But if it was, he wasn't about to reveal his intentions so soon, as he pulled his attention quickly back to Garrick.

"Well, I was interested to know that you still wished to continue with our little business arrangement despite recent unpleasantries." Garrick raised an eyebrow, his smirk not going unnoticed. Daniel emitted a low warning growl which Grayson quickly dismissed with a wave of his hand.

"Quite," said Grayson stiffly. "But unpleasantries aside, we do still have business to discuss. Important business. And our client is keen to meet an agreement with the utmost urgency, hence why he is proposing to substantially increase his offer."

"And hence why you are here, with your tails between your legs no doubt?"

Grayson glowered at him, his lawyer smile fading. Behind him, the mysterious figure moved slightly closer and I thought I heard the faintest of whispers, not much more than a hiss in the darkness. Grimacing, the silver-haired Varúlfur replaced his mask and took a small step towards Garrick. Immediately Page and the others shifted in unison, blades glinting in the moonlight as they moved in. 

"We did not come here to fight, Mr Garrick," Grayson implored, holding up his palms. "Our intention is plain and simple. We want to close this deal. Whatever animosity lies between us, that is for another time. Our aim here is not to antagonise, but to come to a mutually beneficial agreement."

Garrick stared hard at him for a moment, before motioning to the others to stand down.

"Mutually beneficial? Now that is something to think about," agreed Garrick. "In the meantime, maybe you would like to introduce us to your associate?"

Grayson hesitated for a moment, the smile back in residence. "Our associate as you call him is here to represent our client. He wished somebody from his organisation be present. Mr Drachmann is here to observe, nothing more." I noticed that he made no attempt to introduce this Mr Drachmann, who remained in the background, his face still hidden. "Now if we could continue?"

"Of course," said Garrick. "However the problem is, Mr Walter, while I appreciate your client is willing to offer substantially more than originally discussed, I'm afraid the price has considerably increased since we last spoke. In fact, I suspect it is far more than you might be willing to pay. Call it compensation for the inconvenience caused at our last meeting." With that he threw a pointed look in Brandon's direction, who glared right back at him, his fists clenched by his sides.

Grayson pursed his lips, a shadow passing across his face. "Come now, Mr Garrick. You know full well that particular regretful indiscretion was dealt with. Evidence of that stands before us now." He nodded at me. "Mrs Walden, so glad you could join us." I felt his cold insincerity from where I was standing as if he had plunged his hand deep into my guts in one swift deathly motion.

"It's Garrick," I replied stiffly. "Megan Garrick."

Brandon flinched but still did not look my way. But I could feel that he wanted to, his tense posture, the way in which his cheek muscles twitched and how he clenched his fists tighter. I knew how much it burned him to hear me deny his name.

Grayson merely smiled again. "Indeed," he said dismissively. "I had heard stories of your resurrection. Gone is the captivating wallflower who graced our social gatherings, I see?"

Richard cut in, snorting derisively. "Enough of this!" It was a snake’s voice, full of scathing venom and deathly intent. "That debt has been repaid, has it not? And ten-fold I should think, considering you took far more than what was offered to you by way of repayment."

Garrick's laughter cut through the air. "You call this repayment?" he smiled, gesturing at me. "This is a gift, which we have accepted most gratefully of course. Females are so hard to come by, wouldn't you agree, Mr Walter?"

Grayson's face darkened and a flash of amber shimmered in the cold blue of his eyes. He blinked and it was gone; so controlled and masterful he was of his internal rage.

"How very true," Richard cut in. "And by rights we should ask for the life of yours in compensation, as you call it, for the life she took of our female. But we have ignored this transgression. We have given you her life twice over now and yet you expect even more? You arrogance is starting to rile me, Mr Garrick." He bit down when he said Garrick's name as if saying it disgusted him.

"Interesting choice of word: transgression," mused Garrick, smoothing back his hair. "An act that goes against a law. Whose law would that be, Mr Noble? Your law? The law according to the great Messrs Walter and Noble? A law is something that is enforced by the rule of another and the problem I have with that is this: I do not accept your rule. I do not accept that the Varúlfur have the right to rule over my kind. My father never accepted it and nor do I. And so here brings us to the very crux of this deal that you want done so very badly."

He stepped forward, his expression firm and resolute.

"I want our freedom. I want you to agree that you will no longer persecute or hunt us. I want our kind to be allowed to rise again without oppression. That is my price."

"You impudent fucking....." began Daniel, jumping forward with a snarl.

Grayson caught him by the wrist, dragging the alpha by the coat lapels and pulling him close until they were nose to nose. "Step out of line again and I will personally gut you," he said to Daniel, before quickly releasing him and brushing down his suit as if smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in the expensive fabric.

"Mr Garrick, your terms are quite impossible as you and I both know," he smiled thinly. "This deal has nothing to do with our age-old war. Our client is willing to offer you twelve million for the boy."

"Fuck his millions," snapped Garrick. "I don't want his money."

I gasped, staring at him.

"I want nothing except what I have asked for."

As I stood there watching him, the shame burned inside me for believing him to be so base after everything I had seen him do at Gravestock, after all the tales he had told me of Benjamin and of how he had seen hope when I had wanted to see only betrayal and greed.

"What's wrong with you?" Brandon interjected sharply, his eyes blazing. "This is twelve million for one boy. If you care so much for your kind, take the money and give it to them."

"Will it buy them their freedom?" Garrick questioned. "What good is twelve million pounds to those who live in servitude like some pitiful underclass?"

"Then we will offer you more." I could see the desperate disbelief in Brandon's expression.

"Not everything is about money, Walden," smirked Harper and I felt his arm curl around my waist, fingers brushing the curve of my hip and it was then that Brandon's eyes finally snapped in my direction, or more to the point, in Harper's direction as he now held me tight against him. I caught the unmistakable flare that blazed in Brandon's dark eyes and the way in which his lip curled upwards in a silent snarl.

In response, Harper just smiled. It was an arrogant, brash smile that must have slammed into Brandon at a hundred miles per hour, because I saw the jolt rock his body and for the first time since I had discovered what he really was, I saw a small pulsation of skin ripple across his forehead. I watched, horrified and disgusted as the thin skin bubbled and he frowned, rubbing at his head as if to iron out the misshapen flesh.

Harper's grin widened and I realised that this is what he had wanted all along. He had wanted to unmask Brandon. He had wanted to reveal Brandon's unnatural, twisted jealousy over a wife he should no longer want nor care for. And he had done it all in full view of the last people Brandon would have wanted to know his dirty little secret. Richard spat on the floor by Brandon's feet, his look of disgust mirroring my own, but for a whole different reason.

 When Garrick laughed in response to all of this, it was then that I knew this whole thing had been nothing but a lie. The apparent desire to re-open negotiations with the Varúlfur. The demand for more money. Neither of them had ever intended to honour the deal for one second. This was about power. Pure and simple.

"Better gain control of the pups, Mr Walter," Garrick grinned, nodding his head at Brandon and Daniel. "You are on our territory after all and greatly outnumbered. Gravestock would be nothing compared to taking out two clan leaders and their most senior alphas. Now that really would be a victory, wouldn't it? I'm guessing, and this is just a hunch mind you, but I assume you do not agree to my terms?"

With his usually immaculate veneer wiped away, Grayson, his forehead slick with sweat despite the chill and eyes now blazing poisonous amber. "We do not. And you knew full well that we would not. This meeting has been nothing but a dangerous charade! Did you think you could bring us here and make us bow down to you? You are a fool, Garrick, just as your father was and we will tear out your guts just as we did his. You and your kind will be cleansed from this earth once and for all, because you are nothing but an infection, nothing more than a disease of the blood and I, for one, am sick of condoning your very existence. These farcical negotiations are over!"

A sharp hiss emanated once more from behind him and I was reminded that they had not come here alone. As the mysterious Mr Drachmann stepped forward to speak in those hushed urgent whispers to Grayson, I strained my head to try to get a better look at him and when I did so, I felt his eyes fall upon me and it was as if the world around me unravelled into darkness. Black tinged the edges of my vision and where the shadows converged, I saw their faces. The same faces that Lucius had shown me, the ones who taunted me in my dreams, the ones who plagued me when I was awake. I stared back at him utterly terrified, wishing with my whole being that I had not courted an interest in this strange man. I wished more than anything that I had not fallen under his attention because I knew that it might have been the biggest mistake I could ever have made. I knew instinctively that he knew. He saw.

I took a step back. I couldn't stop myself. And I would have stumbled to the ground if it wasn't for Harper's hand clutching at my arm. Brandon glared wildly from me to Mr Drachmann, clearly torn between wanting to rip Harper's arm from the socket and wondering why the hell I was so scared of their client's employee. Garrick's face too was full of alarm my sudden desperate attempt to retreat and I knew that my actions alone were on the cusp of shattering our control completely. But I didn't care. I had to get away whether it meant scrambling over every damn grave in this place and risking the wrath of all that rested here. The ghosts were screaming now, panicked desperate cries that reverberated through my skull bone.

"Megan?" Harper frowned, clutching at my arm.

"I shouldn't have come," I whispered. "I shouldn't be here."

"What is it? What's wrong?" he urged.

"We have to go. Now." I let out a small whimper. Whatever it was that Harper saw in my stricken face, he clearly decided the fun and games were over.

"Garrick!" Harper hissed. "End this."

His brother nodded, his steady gaze fixed momentarily on me, before turning back to the Varúlfur. "Are we done here, Mr Walter?" Garrick said, raising his voice. "If so, then I suggest you all leave before I decide to claim that victory I would so thoroughly enjoy taking."

Grayson and Richard's attention flicked back to Garrick.

"We are not done, vampire," Grayson warned. "We will leave but we will not rest until we have upturned every rock, every stinking pitiful hovel in which you infestation live. You will be cleansed and we will take the boy. And when you lie on the ground with your innards in yours hands, you will wish to the bowels of Hell that you had chosen a different course tonight."

With that, the clan leaders turned on their heels, barking orders for Daniel and Brandon to follow them, which they did only Brandon hung back slightly, still staring at me before finally, reluctantly, running to catch the others up as they stalked across the burial ground.

As they reached the far side of the cemetery, the dark figure of Mr Drachmann turned back to look and despite the distance; I knew his eyes were fixed on me and on me alone.

 Hello Michael, he whispered and I heard him just as clearly as if he were one of the dead that lay rotting beneath my feet.