"I'm about to head up to Skyhall to train with the girls. I figured I'd ask if you wanted to join us."
Skyhall. Presumably "the girls" would include the youngest Eirikrson.
Chloe had gotten under Diana's skin the previous night. In a good or bad way, she couldn't tell yet. She wasn't sure she wanted to see her again, but she did want to get to know Avani. If she was going to build some sort of relationship with her estranged brother, she needed to get along with his mate—his wife.
"Sure. Just let me get out of the bath and put something on."
"Great, I'll wait for you downstairs."
Emerging from her bedroom, she opened the wardrobe out of curiosity rather than digging clothes out of her traveling bag. Her face broke into an involuntary grin. Avani had been right; she liked everything in there. The fringed vests, the leather pants, the colorful long, flowing dresses. It was more than mere coincidence that every single thing Alexius had picked aligned with her tastes. She would have bet just about anything that he'd been following her on social media, just like she had him. She could have asked herself why he hadn't reached out, but she knew it was for the same reason she hadn't. Though she loved her brother, he represented a painful part of her past. There was nothing but layers of wounds and scars, patched up with stitches, from their early days. Their father had been cold at best, cruel at worst. Their mother had been overbearing, overprotective of Diana and ashamed of Alexius. Not for any logical reason. Alexius hadn’t done anything to deserve it. Well, at least not before being turned. And no matter how silly it was, they reminded each other of that time. She couldn't think of Alexius without thinking of Solene and Vincel Helsing. May they rest in peace. Or hell. That might be where they belonged. It wasn't fashionable to admit to disliking one's parents, but as she grew older, Diana had slowly come to understand just how much the couple had damaged her, Alexius, and their relationship.
To seal an alliance with the Rosedeans, Vincel Helsing agreed to marry one of their daughters. He picked Solene, the youngest, and molded her to his liking until she was turned at twenty-five. Since she'd been a little girl, she'd known that she would have to marry him. Vincel vetted everything—her friends, her education, what she was allowed to wear or say. Solene might have been the perfect wife from the outside, but Diana knew that she'd hated her life. What their parents had had was cold.
There was something else, something she'd never voiced out loud, although she was fairly certain her theory had merit. The way Vincel, as sexist as any man from the 1100s, had no interest in Alexius, and doted on Diana, suggested that he at least suspected Alexius wasn't his child. He certainly didn't look like any Helsing. The rest of them had dark hair and eyes, and a Mediterranean look, like their founder. Alexius was all golden hair and blue eyes. And most of all, although he was the firstborn of Vincel, one of the strongest in their family, Alexius hadn't possessed one drop of their family's signature power. Diana didn't know whether Vincel was right. She couldn't imagine her mother rebelling against her husband and having an affair. But she did strongly suspect that her father hadn't considered Alexius his. Another reason why talking to her brother could be awkward.
And yet, it hadn't been yesterday. Things had gone right back to the way they used to be: banter, insults, and teasing.
Diana opted for red suede pants with laced-up sides—these babies were staying with her, right next to her favorite boots—and a white crop top. She almost picked up a jacket, before remembering that she was on Night Hill, not in a human city. There was no need for pretense. No need to blend in. No resident here felt the bite of the cold. She picked ankle boots, and shoved her phone in her pocket before heading downstairs.
Avani was chatting in the entryway with two girls who'd been there last night—or rather, this morning. Scanning her memory, Diana waved her hand. "Greer and Gwen, right?" she asked, pointing first to a sienna beauty with wild ebony curls, and then to a redhead who had to be a cover model. Her pouty lips and green eyes stood out against features that had to have come from somewhere in Asia. India, potentially.
The first chuckled. "Almost. Just the other way around."
Diana winced. "Sorry."
"Girl, no apology necessary," the redhead replied. "I wouldn't have remembered any name at all if I'd been bombarded with a hundred introductions at dawn. You up for getting your ass kicked?"
Diana stared at her, then snorted. "You do realize I'm many times older than literally all of you put together?"
The trio exchanged a knowing glance. Avani grinned at her. "Confidence. We like that."
"And by that," Gwen said, "she means she likes to break that."
Diana had zero idea how to respond. She could take all three girls without breaking a sweat. She was certain of it. Right? Their air of utter calm and trust in their own abilities made her doubt herself for a moment.
To her surprise, she found that she liked it. She liked being challenged by the three babies.
"Bring it on."
They walked up to the hill at a mortal's speed. Gwen and Greer were witches, and while they could certainly have used magic to speed up, a mile-long hike wasn't worth the trouble.
At the summit, Diana was yet again taken by how unchanged Oldcrest was. The view was magnificent from this height. She couldn't distinguish the few signs of modernizations—the occasional car parked next to the cottages of Adairford, the extensions to the manors on the hill. The one blemish upon her nostalgia was the De Villier house. The dreary Romanesque castle she remembered had been entirely destroyed, replaced by something that was far more of an eyesore. The red brick edifice might have been built sometime around the Victorian era, but it had been highly modernized. From here, she could see the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the solar panels planted between the sculpted chimneys on the roof.
Skyhall hadn't changed one bit. Diana half expected Liz to walk out and tell her to get back to her room. But Liz Eirikrson was dead.
Gwen pushed the heavy door open with a wave of her hand.
"Elemental magic?" Diana asked.
Gwen nodded, proudly. "I do best with water, but I'm trying to get a handle on air, too. Do you have any magic?"
Did she ever. Diana gave a half answer. "My element is fire."
That much was true; out of all four elements, fire was the one she had the closest relationship with. But she wasn't an elemental mage at all. She wasn't much of a mage to begin with, these days. Her magic had a hefty price, and for that reason, she'd never made use of it.
The three girls walked in without hesitation or fear. Diana felt silly to be the only one who felt a degree of reluctance at entering the big bad wolf's den, so to speak. Or perhaps Gwen, Avani, and Greer were the silly ones in this scenario.
Back in the day, most vampires had either liked or disliked the Eirikrsons, but all had feared them. They might have taken on a noble-ish cause, but the simple truth was that they were predators, and their preferred meal wasn't human blood. It was vampire blood.
Perhaps that was why the witches didn't see any reason to fear Chloe. Their blood wasn't her meal of choice. But Avani, though mostly wolf, had the blood of an immortal. Diana wouldn't have been surprised if Chloe licked her lips at her scent.
The great hall hadn't changed either. The castle's black bricks contributed to its intimidating presence outside, but inside, the great windows bathed the halls in light. The rose marble walls and columns were covered with priceless Roman art that would have put the Pantheon to shame. This place should have been a museum, not someone's house.
"Ostentatious, I know."
Diana hadn't even felt Chloe approach, but suddenly she was right behind her.
"I considered changing the place up a bit, but it'd feel wrong. For thousands of years, this house has been just like this. Every stone, every tapestry is original. I can't destroy this."
Diana stared at the woman, trying to work out her angle, her motivation for wanting to appear this sweet, nice, normal, when she was an Eirikrson. She didn't need to sneak her way to the top. She was the apex predator in the room. Even with Diana here.
"It's homier in the back though. Come on through."
She led them to what used to be the Eirikrson training room, downstairs, beyond a grand staircase worthy of Casteria. Two vampires and another witch were already waiting. Diana identified Catherine Stormhale, but the other vampire and the witch were strangers.
She paid them little mind, taking in the room. She'd never been invited so deep inside this house before. The windowless wooden arched hall had seen no outward modification, but there was electricity seamlessly integrated in the design. Several large leather-covered mats were resting against a wall, others set upon the floor.
An army had been trained in these walls, with the swords and daggers lying around on tables and chairs.
"These should be in glass display cases," Diana grumbled, glaring at a set of curved daggers she'd give several of her pairs of boots for.
She didn't even like weapons all that much, but the leather handles had purple tassels, and there was gold engraving along the blades. She couldn't read a word of it, but she'd never seen anything like it.
"Most of the weapons are in the armory." From her wistful sigh, Cat was less indifferent to pointy things than Diana generally was. "You should see the swords."
Diana leaned against a wall. "So that's what you kids do in your spare time? You hit each other?"
The vampire woman, a dark-haired warrior in a slightly unhygienic gray-white dress, bared her fangs happily. "Yes. Isn't it fun?"
Training had never been fun to Diana back when she'd been human, but she was grateful to know how to defend herself. Besides, she had to admit that now she liked a good fight. Against those who deserved it, though. She had never sparred for the hell of it.
"A little fun and a lot necessary," Chloe amended. "Especially for me."