I stood there for a while, reading over the card.

Genevieve’s

Occult consultations, Spells, Enchantments and Potions.

An address and a phone number.

The back of the card had several vaguely familiar signs and sigils.

“Huh, this is enchanted.” I said, a little surprised.

Raeni almost jumped where she stood before stuttering out.

“I-it’s ju-just to-to keep t-the mundanes a-away.” She occasionally looked up at me before looking away.

“It’s well made,” I said, complementing the craftsmanship.

“Uh, thank you... I uh, I made it.” she replied, a little dumbstruck but proud of getting a compliment.

“The only thing is your edges and turns. They’re a little rough.” I said, remembering my own unorthodox learning of runes.

“But they don’t even do anything, and they take too long!” she whined, obviously having forgotten who she was talking to.

“They prolong the life of the material, and by association, the enchantment. But let me ask you something else. This is your card, an introduction and first impression that people will get of you. So why appear like a third-rate enchanter when you’re clearly far more competent?” I said, lightly lecturing.

Raeni stood silently, like a teenager getting scolded by their teacher.

“This is insane.” Natasha thought, looking on in disbelief.

“Now, young lady, I want to see 50 properly made cards within the week, or I’ll send a shadow to check up on your progress,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Raeni froze, brain finally catching up to the situation, the shock of which made the 20-year-old voodoo priestess well up in tears and start bawling her eyes out.

I quickly backed away as she stood there sobbing, big fat tears streaming down her face, I looked sheepishly to Natasha for help, but she just stood with her palm on her face shaking her head, while the five Tactical looking Sentire all stood in various states of astonishment.

***

Natasha managed to calm Raeni down after repeatedly promising that I wouldn’t be sending ANY of my shadows to check up on her, something I had to persistently swear as one of the Sentire Custodes took Raeni outside to the car.

The other four started clearing out any evidence they could find which left just me and Natasha.

Alone .

Natasha had been staring at the side of my head for almost a minute before I turned to her and asked,

“What?”

“What do we do about that?” she asked, pointing at my shadows undulating around the room.

I looked down at the shadow I cast from the flashlight.

“Heel,” I commanded, and pointed at the shadow at my feet.

The slow undulating mass sluggishly slid forward and down into my shadow like it was a hole to the floor below.

“That’s so creepy. Even by vampire and witch standards.” She said, looking vaguely disgusted.

“Now that’s just insensitive. It... They have feelings too, you know.” I said, a little defensively.

“Yeah, I felt them earlier, hunger and murder.” She joked, looking more comfortable than before, but still a little shaken.

“That’s just because they were ready for a fight. They really can be quite sweet when... not eating people.” I said, grimacing slightly mid-sentence, listening to my own logic.

Natasha looked at me for a moment before snorting

“You had me worried there for a moment. I thought you’d gone off the deep end, scared the shit out of everyone.” She stated, looking up at me from the corner of her eye suspiciously.

“And now?” I asked curiously as we walked out the front and down towards the cars. Well, she walked, I hobbled.

“Now. I know you’re bat-shit crazy. But at least you can be reasoned with.” She paused and seemed to consider something for a moment before reaching up and disconnecting some wires on her shoulder and her earpiece and continuing.

“I had a lot of problems acclimating to society... after coming back, the Custodes helped me channel it to something useful, but in the 80s I went to a psychiatrist at Katya’s insistence to sort some of this stuff out.” Natasha said in a somber tone.

“She said that people who experience trauma like us can get... Desensitized to it and become stunted emotionally, reacting childishly or obliviously to situations that should normally shock or horrify.” She told me, keeping her eyes forward, not really looking at anything.

“Acclimating to society was one of my biggest concerns with coming back to a Mundane society. I expected having to relearn how to hold a job, buy groceries.” I replied.

“I wasn’t expecting vampires, witches, and whatever else is out there.”

Natasha laughed softly before yawning and stretching her arms over her head. She turned and caught me staring as if she knew I would and smirked at me in victory.

“Hey, I’m only human.” I shrugged to myself as I kept hobbling towards the cars.

***

I had spent the last couple of days on a couch, healing and recovering from the fight at Baroness Sicilia’s mansion while enjoying the occasional visit from Natasha or someone else from clan Eve, usually with a trunk load of groceries and gossip from the Tower.

I learned a lot during this time.

Like, for example, how they referred to their skyscraper as The Tower.

Most of the Sentire of the Eve clan lived in The Tower, and most of the branch families lived elsewhere. More on them later, though.

The Tower had a ridicules number of floors and had everything you could ever need. Not kidding, they have their own shooting ranges, mechanics shop, luxury restaurants, several gyms along with swimming pools, high-class hotels with suites for both guests and Business, common living areas and high security living areas for their heirs, the humans of their bloodline.

They are instinctively protective of their heirs to an insane degree, which is why the tower has everything they could ever want, to discourage them from going out into the world of random car crashes and muggings.

Their paranoia for protecting their line goes so far as to having built a dozens of levels deep bunker under the tower, with so many escape tunnels and hidden passages that no one except the clan head knows them all.

Most of the Sentire live their own daily lives, but at the top of every single one of their priority lists is:

Keep the Heirs healthy.

‎Help the Heirs further the line.

‎Keep the Heirs happy.

I was told by a recently reborn Sentire that the Help could be infuriating at times. If, for instance, your elders felt you were taking too long, you would start to find aphrodisiacs in your boyfriend’s food or drinks when he visited, and your secret stash of condoms would have holes poked in them and be perfectly resealed.

Every Sentire in the tower fawns over every Heir like a bunch of helicopter parents, which, technically, most of them are.

Their business includes everything that makes more money to further the clan, almost no personal finance unless you’re high in the hierarchy.

Their oldest profession is prostitution, both male and female.

And I gotta be honest. Not a terrible choice given their talents, eternally beautiful and fit, immune to all diseases, can read your desires like an open book and they literally feed on human lust during the act.

And since every male Heir born is sterile, they’re left with a female majority, meaning before the 1800s they had little in the way of other lucrative job options.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Though on one of my visits from Sophia, she made it very clear that they aren’t common street whores, and to be careful to never imply anything even remotely close to it, as it would be a serious insult.

Today they’ve phased out most of that though, focusing more on espionage and political moves using scheming and cunning, meaning most get plenty of sustenance from their profession as lawyers and lobbyists.

Feeding on the greed and wrath of humans, they beat in bureaucratic warfare, keeps most of them fed.

They train each clan member in combat, boys starting before the Rebirth to prepare them for an afterlife of being a Custodes, since that’s where most of the men end up.

Now if tragedy strikes, and the line dies out, which isn’t uncommon, mainly because of Sanguinares.

Then you’re left with a Branch family, or Dead-end branch. Not exactly a nice term, but there’s a long history of branch families growing bitter and lashing out at the world, when their instinctual purpose for living is taken away.

There are many who choose to end it all, but some choose to keep going, through unlikely hopes or just out of habit.

Now these Dead clans are still extremely wealthy and powerful, so alliances are often struck between them and Clans who still have heirs, for the sake of business.

The last bit of information I got had to do with the health effects of their feedings.

Surprisingly, both Sanguinares and Sentire feedings improve the physical or mental health of the donor.

For Sanguinares, it is an improved recovery and metabolism for a period after being fed on, a greatly improved immune system and resistance to blood-born diseases.

For Sentires it was improved mental health and focus, a near complete removal of hormonal imbalances and chronic mental disorders.

There was just one problem: feeding frenzies.

They weren’t common with Sentires, but very common for Sanguinares.

Sentires could leave someone in a vegetative state and Sanguinares... Well, they just drank you dry.

Now, during my time of recovery, I hadn’t been the only one with questions, which leads me to my current predicament.

“You know, there are plenty of other seats here.” I said, while lying on the couch.

“I like this one just fine.” Natasha said merrily sat on top of me like my stomach was a cushion.

“Besides, this way you can’t hobble away.” She teased.

“That’s a good one. Now you do realize I’m injured, right?”

“Are you saying I’m heavy?” Natasha asked dangerously.

“I was gonna use the word dense, but yeah, heavy works too.” I replied, strained.

“Ugh, fine.” She said with a smile, bouncing off me and sitting down on a chair opposite the couch.

“Now it’s not that I don’t enjoy these little visits, but why are you here?” I asked.

“Well, after what happened with the local red court baroness, a lot of people have gotten curious, and started asking questions that frankly, Katya and I don’t have the answers for.”

“And you’re here to pump me for information?” I asked, amused.

“If that’s what it takes to get the truth,” Natasha answered, leaning forward lasciviously.

“What do you wanna know?” I relented with a snort.

Natasha smiled, seemingly satisfied with having gotten what she wanted, as she pulled out a notepad.

“Well, let’s start with the big one. What the hell are you?” She asked, clicking her pen twice.

“A Titan.” I replied flatly. Which she quickly jotted down.

“Is it hereditary or like therianthropy?”

“Therianthropy?”

“You know, werewolves, weretigers, were-whatever,” she replied nonchalantly.

“It’s hereditary, but it’s very uncommon for two Titans to have a child.” I clarified.

“So you guys have a low fertility rate. I guess that explains why there aren’t a bunch of you running around.” Her pen stopped, and she froze as she looked up and asked seriously, “Wait, there isn’t a bunch of you running around, is there?”

“Hahaha, No. As far as I know, I’m the only one, at least on this continent.”

“Also, just to clarify, I didn’t mean we have a low fertility rate. I meant Titans usually have children with other races.”

“What do you mean, other races?” Natasha asked incredulously.

“I mean, you’re more likely to find a Titan having a child with a vampire or a human than another Titan.”

“The child is usually born from the mother’s race but having strong traits from their father or vice versa.”

“Vampires can’t have children Aleks, there’s never been a case of it.” Natasha argued.

“Well, you know how it is. Life finds a way.” I joked, missing Natasha’s tone and conflicted expression completely.

Finally, noticing she was being uncharacteristically quiet, I turned to look at her, only to see her stare directly at me.

“What?” I asked perplexed

“Aleks, if what you just told me is true... Don’t tell other people about this, okay?” She said gravely.

“What? Why not?”

“Aleks. Think about it. What would happen if an old clan with no heirs found out about this? I know you can handle yourself, hell I’ve seen it. But you can’t imagine the amount of wealth some of the oldest clans of my kind have. For centuries, they’ve had nothing better to do than amass money and power to the point of rivaling countries. Private security firms, offshore holding companies. I mean, some just outright buy a country’s debt and do as they please.” She finished, looking genuinely concerned for my safety.

“Damn, it’s not even like you can force it, but I guess they wouldn’t care.” I muttered, stunned.

“Let’s move on.” She said.

“Yeah, that might be for the best.” I nodded.

“So, what are some characteristics of your race? Do you need to feed, or do you have any habits you feel compelled to do?”

“We’re very territorial.” I said, still kind of dazed.

“What, like wolves?”

“Kind of. We have a habit of just walking up to stuff and declaring that it’s ours and we can get very protective of it.”

“No offense, but Titans sound kind of messed up.” Natasha said, grimacing.

“Can’t argue that.” I said, a little defeated.

“So is the reason you’re such a prude, also a Titan thing,” Natasha teased.

“Hey!” I exclaimed, offended, while Natasha laughed.

We spent the rest of the night discussing everything from customs to physiology.

***

BZZZT

The obnoxious bell for the front gate buzzed

“Huh, shouldn’t be time for deliveries yet.”

I walked over to the window seeing the familiar expensive town car at the gate, so I turned off the runes and let them through, expecting that to be that... Except nothing happened. No one barged in and started talking my ear off about how lively the tower was these days.

I went to the window and looked outside, there I saw an immensely uncomfortable Silas holding a pink backpack with stars on it in one hand and in the other he was holding an umbrella over the head of a familiar brown-haired little girl holding a black wolf plushie.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” I said, shaking my head.

I opened the door, instantly pinning Silas with an accusing glare.

“Really dude? Little girl, too much for you?” I thought, making sure he’d hear me.

Silas turned his head away in shame.

The little girl walked forward.

“I Sasha Anichkovs Nikoleve Heir of The Eve hereby request asylum in the territory of the Titan.” She said officiously.

“I’m gonna strangle the next Vampire I see.” I thought again... Loudly. Causing Silas to wince.

“I Aleks’Andros Titanos, head of my clan, accept your request for refuge, young lady of the Eve.” I responded.

“No harm In playing along.”

I stepped aside and let her enter, Silas following close behind. Until I put my hand on his chest, stopping him dead in his tracks. With an evil smile, I tapped my finger on a small sign at the side of the door which said,

Solicitors will be shot on sight.

Except someone had crossed out shot and instead written Eaten in permanent marker beneath and drawn a pretty good depiction of black tendrils around the stick figure man holding a shotgun.

After closing the door in his face, I could still sense him standing out there conflicted for a while, before he pulled out his phone and called Mommy Matriarch to come clean.