When all seemed lost, it was good for a man to have a nest to fall back on and lick his wounds.

At his home. His castle.

In The Wyrding on a sea of grass stood a twisted old tower that Pietro had claimed for himself during the eight years he had wandered in The Wyrding. Whenever he had left it to seek new riches, he’d never had to lock any of his doors or bar his windows. Not even the most daring thief would dare to steal from a master vampire. For over ten years it had stood empty but not abandoned. The tower was still waiting for his return.

Empty…

It should have been empty. Waiting for him but now… he saw a light in one of the windows. Who dared to enter his tower without his permission?!

Pietro swooped down and took back his human form before walking into the yard. Even with Elysa’s blood strengthening him, the poison was still eating away at him. Weakening him. But not so much that he couldn’t teach an intruder some manners. It also saved the trouble of hunting for more blood.

When he saw the carriage in the yard, Pietro bit his lip.

The carriage was pulled by three kelpies. Once it had been pulled by four, but then the carriage’s owner had gotten cocky during a game of poker and Pietro had gotten lucky. Inside the carriage were children. Lost and broken things with no hope left in their eyes. Even the sight of a vampire could not make them stir. They had been abandoned by the world and then picked up by a wandering goblin.

“Old Flea…” Pietro muttered to himself.

He entered his tower and found his unwanted guest sitting by the fire, sipping whisky.

The goblin was old. The oldest of his race. His hair and mustache were the color of cheap iron. The fur on his tail and paws was almost white. He was dressed in a faded pinstripe suit and a dusty bowler hat that smelled of seaweed and salty wind. Despite his age, he still moved with a spring in his steps.

“Flea.” Pietro said.

Old Flea grinned and raised his glass to him.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

“Hello, Pietro Capello. Hello. Good to see you remember your pal Old Flea. Blessing of the Deep upon you.” Old Flea said and sipped his whisky: “You look awful. Let me guess. You ate something that didn’t sit well with you?”

Pietro hissed but Old Flea just laughed.

“I know I’m right.”

Pietro forced himself to calm down and crossed his arms.

“How did you know I’d be here?”

“The same way I know where to find kids who have lost all hope. Pain is like catnip to me.” Old Flea said and pointed a gnarly finger at him: “As for why I am here? Remember the kelpie you cheated me out of in poker?”

“Yes. Neptune.”

“The best of my steeds.” Old Flea said and grimaced: “He is dead. Dead on your watch and let me tell you… your pal Old Flea ain’t none too pleased.”

Pietro’s eyes widened when he realized that the crown jewel of his riches was gone. How many men could say they were the master of a kelpie? Not many. That had made him the subject of envy in The Wyrding and now… Neptune had been stolen from him.

“… dead?” Pietro said.

“Dead and lying in the bottom of a river.” Old Flea said and finished his whisky: “This has been a bad week for you, hasn’t it? Your altar is gone. Your servant is dead and your daughter…”

“I still have a son. I can still do what baron Stradheim never did. I can take over Garuccia and have descendants to carry on my family name.”

“Oh, Pietro, Pietro, Pietro. Your charm is running low. Are you really the same man… or vampire who marched to Storm Roost and convinced prince Mordesai to become your patron? Too much success has made you sloppy.”

“I can still fix this.” Pietro said.

Old Flea cackled. His breath smelled of fish and whisky.

“I certainly hope so. Because the night isn’t over yet. They are coming and they… are quite pissed.” Old Flea said.

Pietro bit his lip.

“No one knows about this place.”

Old Flea wagged his finger at him.

“Didn’t daddy Capello ever warn you about assumptions?” Old Flea said and pushed himself up with a grunt: “If I were you, I’d nut up and fast.”

Pietro blocked the door.

“Aren’t you going to stay and help me?”

“I already did. I gave you heads up, but professional courtesy only takes you so far and… I owed you one. For crippling the mutt who killed Neptune. Let it be known that I’m not ungrateful.”

Pietro put his talons on Old Flea’s shoulders. The goblin was ancient, but Pietro could still feel stringy swimmer’s muscles under the suit.

“And what if ordered you to stay?”

Old Flea grinned at him.

“I suppose I would show you why no one orders around a grandmaster of Domdaniel. Trust me, Pietro Capello.” Old Flea said and made a fist: “You do not want to feel the back of this paw.”

The vampire’s red eyes met the goblin’s gaze. Old Flea had eyes the color of poisoned water. After a moment, Pietro pulled back his hand.

“Clever man. Now, if you excuse me, I have a package to deliver. Some new recruits to Storm Roost.” Old Flea said.

When he was about to walk out Old Flea stopped and glanced at him over his shoulder.

“When I began my studies in Domdaniel, do you know what the first thing the Grey Mother taught me was?”

“No.”

“That’s easy to fix. It was the first tenet of the Deep. Only the chosen may walk the Path of mysteries. Looking at you… I am starting to wonder if you’re one of the chosen after all.”

Without saying another word, Old Flea walked out of the tower. Pietro stood by the window and watched as the goblin took his carriage and drove it into the nearest body of water. The carriage being pulled by kelpies disappeared under the waves and never came back up. Pietro kept standing by the window, chewing his lip. Then he growled. What stupidity. This was a setback. Nothing more. Let them come. When his enemies were all in one place, it would be easy to crush them.

Pietro reached out with his mind and called for the ghouls he had buried around his tower. His undead watchdogs. Even after lying dormant for ten years, they answered when they heard their master’s call and dug their way to the surface. Driven by the need to serve him and hunt for blood. Pietro watched as his army stood by the root of his tower.

“Let them come.”