A cluster of Grigori crouched beside the manor’s stone wall, taking a moment to breathe. The stones were still warm, and Mrs. Hester Sloane, Lady Regalii, could still smell sweet wine and roast boar from the dinner party so rudely disrupted. She pulled the gilt hairpins from her summer blonde hair and quickly braided it to keep it out of way. “My love—” her husband’s shadow fell across her shoulder. “Marius, now is not the time. I have a duty. Please, stay with the others.” “The other humans.” Hester turned, rising to her feet. “Yes. The other humans. This is no place for you, husband dear. I fear for your safety and that of our sweet Charlotte. Find her and Mary in the nursery and get home. You will be safer there than here.” A shudder passed through the ground. “Go, while you are still able.” “Hester, you are not a fighter. Come with me!” “All of us are fighters, whether we are born to be warriors or not. I have a duty, my heart. Please understand.
