Cursing under his breath, Murhder walked over to the railing and stared out over the lawn, to the stream.

“She told me what they did to you in the colony,” Tohr said. “The mental torture.”

“It’s all right.”

“No, the fuck it isn’t.”

“I’m okay now. That’s all that matters.”

“Murhder. My brother—”

He turned around. “Don’t call me that. I’m not your Brother anymore, remember.”

“Yes, you are.” Tohr came forward. “I’m so sorry. We’re all so sorry. I wish you’d told us what really happened—we could have worked with you or … whatever, I’m not blaming you for the choice of staying silent. You had your reasons, you were protecting Xhex, and we get that. But we wish we’d known the truth.”

Of all the conversations he had ever expected to have? This was not one of them.

Not even close.

“Apology accepted,” Murhder said roughly. “I appreciate you—well, thanks for coming down.”

Tohr shook his head. “This isn’t just an I’m-sorry. We want you to come back. We want you to fight with us again, be one of us—again.”

Murhder didn’t bother to hide his recoil. “What?”

“We want you back. In the Brotherhood.”

“Can you even do that?”

Tohr laughed in a short burst. “The Brotherhood decides on matters of membership. You know this.”

“Is Wrath aware you’re here?”

“He’s the one who sent me.”

“Really.” Murhder broke off from the Brother and turned back to the railing. “So the King’s given his blessing.”

There was a long silence. And then Tohr said, “We need the help. We’ve got a big cover issue tomorrow night. A meeting of probable insurgents.”

“So just like this, you think I’m cleared for fieldwork. Back in the saddle. Ready to roll. No more insane.”

“Xhex says she’s read your grid. She knows where you’re at.”

Murhder closed his eyes. “Now she’s a social worker. Wow.”

“We were wrong, Murhder. We were going on the facts as we knew them, but we were wrong and we are sorry. All of us. And then there was what you did for John.”

Murhder thought back to being out in those cold alleys with Tohr’s son. So alive. So fist pumping, heart pounding, balls-to-the-wall alive. He’d felt like he was following his purpose again. Serving the race. Playing a vital role in the species’ survival.

But there was another level to it all. The thing about the Brotherhood was … that group of males was united over more than just fighting. There was trust, loyalty, friendship between the Brothers, and those emotional ties were just as important as the fighting skills.

Xhex was right. He was no longer crazy.

But he couldn’t go back to Caldwell, and reenter the Brotherhood, and be who he needed to be with them. Who he had to be.

That kind of heart just wasn’t in him anymore.

“I can’t do it,” he said. “I’m sorry. I left that version of me behind a long time ago.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.” He glanced back at the Brother. “That’s the thing about not being insane anymore. I actually know where I stand. And it’s here.”

“Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

What about Sarah, he thought.

Except then he reconsidered that knee-jerk request. Yes, there were humans working around the Brotherhood, but if he were out in the field every night, what kind of life was that for her? Sitting, waiting, wondering if he were injured. And what about her scientific pursuits.

He had gotten online and looked her name up. He didn’t know what he’d thought she did, but it turned out she was a world leader in her field. How could he ask her to give all that up just for him?

“Murhder?”

“No,” he said. “There’s nothing you can do to change my mind. But thanks for coming down.”

“Okay. Well.”

“Yup. All right.”

There was another long pause. And then Tohr said, “I guess I’ll head back. You know where to find us if you need us.”

As Tohr turned away and headed for the steps, Murhder spoke up. “What are you going to do about Sarah?”

The Brother frowned over his shoulder. “Sarah?”

“You know, about what I told you.”

“Did you mention her?” Tohr shrugged and hit the porch stairs. “Huh. I must have missed it. I didn’t hear anything about her.”

The following evening, Sarah sat at her kitchen table and laid out her bills: Cable TV and Internet, with her landline bundled in. Cell phone. Car payment. Car insurance. Life insurance. Mortgage. House insurance. She had one credit card, but didn’t carry a balance on it.

Her most recent bank account statement was in her lap and she checked the balances in her checking and savings again. She also had her 401(k) and just over a hundred thousand in stocks in an investment account, the result of the inheritance left to her by her father after his death.

Her house was carrying a good two hundred grand in debt. But according to the realtor she’d spoken to in the afternoon, the place was worth three-hundred to three twenty-five. After paying the agent, she was going to walk away with about seventy thousand after taxes on the nominal long-term capital gains were taken out.

She sat back and looked around the kitchen. The agent was bringing the listing forms over first thing in the morning, and there was going to be an open house on Sunday if everything went as planned.

Not a bad nest egg for someone her age. And there was more.

She picked up a FedEx envelope she’d opened earlier. Inside was an official severance package from an attorney purporting to represent BioMed’s residual interests. They were giving all employees at her level six months of salary, which was … absolutely unheard of from what she knew of the company. Kraiten had been willing to pay for only two things: top talent and top facilities. Everything else was second or third rate, with lower-tier employees receiving crappy benefits.

Gerry’s hiring deal, for example, had been far richer than her own.

Then again, his employment had also put him in his grave.

“Oh, Gerry …”

Picking up her cell phone, she checked the time. Out on the West Coast, it was four in the afternoon still.

She went through her contacts, found the number for Lorenzo Taft-Margulies and hit send. The man picked up on the third ring, just as she was beginning to construct the message she was going to leave on his voicemail in her head.

“Enzo, it’s Sarah Wa—hi. Yup, it’s me. What?” She pulled another chair around with her foot and stretched both legs out, crossing them at the ankles. “Oh, God, I know, right? Who could have seen it coming? Me? No, I mean, I was never that high up in things at BioMed. Just a humble researcher, no one that Kraiten would have much to do with—and as my dad used to say, sometimes you luck out.”

They chatted a little bit more about the BioMed drama. And then she said, “So listen, Enzo, about the job interview. I am so flattered and I really thought about it—yes, I’m afraid it’s a no. Yes, I’m aware I have no job at the moment.” She smiled at her friend’s joke. “But I’ve been working straight through since grad school, and while I realize that was the plan, I just need a break. Where? I don’t know. I could stick in New England or I might look into something totally new. Teaching at the college level. Maybe an even bigger change. I guess I just want to get off the hamster wheel and see how I feel.”

“Sarah,” the voice on the other end said. “You’re on the cusp of a major career. I know that hamster wheel is hard, but if you leave now, you may never get back to where you are. You have greatness ahead of you. I’ve always seen it in you.”

Sarah blinked. “You’re kind to say that.”

“I’m not being kind here. Don’t throw away everything you’ve worked for.”

After some further back and forth, they changed the subject by mutual agreement and Enzo returned to being his usual self, supportive but gently needling—and when it came time to end the call, she promised to look him up if she changed her mind.

Pondering what the man had said, she wondered how much of it was hyperbole … and how much of it was a truth she had never recognized about herself. Enzo had always been a straight shooter. He was ten years older than she and Gerry, but a fellow Harvard/MIT program alum in Sarah’s field, which was how she’d gotten to know him. He’d been impressed with Gerry—God knew everyone had been—but he’d been more interested in Sarah.

Just professionally, that was. And she could remember being flattered that he’d pursued her for work. It had been a nice change from being in Gerry’s shadow. Not that she’d ever resented Gerry back then.

No, the resentment had come later. And not because they’d been competing for jobs or notoriety.

Was Enzo right? Was she letting everything go if she took time off? She had spent a lot of time downplaying her accomplishments—because she hadn’t been on Gerry’s level. But maybe that was more her own insecurities, as opposed to an accurate assessment of her professional standings.

Getting up, she rinsed the plate she’d eaten dinner on and put in it in the dishwasher. Nothing else to clean up because she’d had one of those Lean Cuisines out of the freezer. So actually, she could have just put her plate back in the cupboard because it had functioned more like a china tray for the plastic tray she’d put in the microwave.

Heading for the living room, she debated binge-watching something, but she’d never been all that into TV and had no frame of reference for the shows people were talking about now. Ozark. Supernatural. Making of a Murderer 2. And what the hell was a podcast, anyway?

Sure, falling into the vampire world had been a shocker, but like she knew much about the human one she supposedly lived in?