"I'll say it again," Bruno said calmly.
"Drink this and all your problems end."
"It makes your blood toxic to vampires."
"If anyone decides to take a sip, it'll go very badly for them."
Ethan took the vial.
It was still warm from Bruno's hand.
"Did I ever ask about side effects?" he asked.
"Possible dizziness," Bruno said.
Bruno added:
"But no fanged bastard will drink from you twice."
Ethan stared at the clear liquid.
I don't think this stuff is going to cause too many problems…
Flash stepped closer.
"That's not all."
He looked straight into Ethan's eyes.
"Direct contact with the elite."
The name wasn't spoken, but Ethan understood.
Gérard De Millier.
He pictured having to keep his composure in a massive hall.
And that place would literally be the largest gathering of vampires anywhere.
"They'll try to read you," Flash said.
"There's one option: just pretend to be stupid and don't think."
"If for even a second you decide it's time to run," Gideon added, "they'll feel it."
Ethan slowly sat down.
His heart was pounding too loudly.
So I have to hide my own composure…
He raised his head.
"What if Roy decides to touch me? Check again?"
Bruno shrugged:
"Then you have to make him believe you're his."
Silence.
Ethan lowered his gaze.
I just have to blend into their pack…
He suddenly realized that was the hardest part.
Flash said quietly:
"This is the point of no return."
"I know," Ethan replied.
He looked at the vial again.
"When do I take it?"
Gideon answered:
"Forty minutes before the whole stunt begins.
So the readings stabilize."
Bruno gave a crooked smile:
"I'd love to see their confusion when they try to figure out why they can't read your thoughts…"
Ethan stood up.
"Okay."
He slipped the vial into his pocket.
"If they want my blood, let them try."
Flash watched him carefully.
"You understand you might not walk out of there?"
Ethan nodded.
"I understand…"
The lamp flickered again.
•••
The phone in Ethan's hand felt colder than usual, as if the metal had absorbed all his sweat.
He stood by a tall, dust-covered window in an old warehouse where the team was temporarily hiding from the city's eyes.
They had returned from the catacombs, promising the people down there that they would come back.
Below, the wet asphalt gleamed, reflecting yellow patches of streetlights. Rare cars passed slowly, as though they themselves didn't believe they still had anywhere to hurry to.
Flash watched Ethan silently from the shadows, arms crossed. Bruno sat on an overturned crate, fingers mechanically working the slide of his pistol, as if the metallic clicks could drown out the pounding of his heart.
In Ethan's earpiece, Gideon's voice came through quietly and evenly, he was testing the comms lines, reciting test phrases like incantations.
"Ready?" Flash asked in his low voice, tilting his head with a questioning look.
Ethan gave a short nod, gathering all his thoughts.
God, what were those numbers again?
He dialed the number while staring at the scrap of paper in his hand.
Long rings fell into the silence one after another, each like a hammer striking glass.
Click.
"Speaking," Roy's voice this time was soft, almost lazy, almost human.
Ethan paused, just long enough to fit uncertainty into the gap.
"It's Ethan."
A moment of silence.
Then a light, almost friendly chuckle.
"I know who this is."
Ethan looked away toward the black glass, where his own reflection stared back.
"I… wanted to talk."
"About what?" Now Roy's voice carried a gentle, almost tender attentiveness.
Ethan drew a deep breath, as though gathering air before a dive.
"I saw myself on TV. That broadcast, some stupid scandal."
He let his voice tremble, just enough to make it believable.
"I… barely remember anything."
On the other end of the line, silence.
Waiting silence, as though Roy were listening to something beyond the words.
"You don't remember?" Roy asked quietly.
"In fragments," Ethan replied, lowering his voice. "Like it wasn't even me."
Flash gave the tiniest approving nod.
"And how do you feel?" Roy asked.
The question was a trap, soft, wrapped in velvet.
Ethan looked at his fingers; they were barely shaking.
"Shame."
He forced himself to say the word slowly, with effort.
"I shouldn't have said those things. It looked… stupid."
A second passed.
Then Roy laughed quietly, almost paternally.
"Ethan… you've been through trauma. People react in different ways."
"I want to fix it," Ethan added quickly.
"Publicly."
In the room, Bruno froze; his finger stilled on the slide.
"Fix it?" Roy was clearly intrigued.
"Yes."
"I want to speak."
"Endorse the reform. Say that… it was all an accident, because I don't even remember being involved in anything."
The pause stretched.
Ethan felt cold sweat trickle down his back.
Come on, you fool, decide…
Finally Roy spoke, slowly, savoring every word.
"You surprise me."
"In a bad way?" Ethan asked, trying to sound timid.
"In an interesting way."
There was a smile in Roy's voice; Ethan could almost see it through the call.
"Are you sure you want to appear at the election? It's a serious event."
"I'm sure," Ethan said.
"I'm tired of being… someone I'm not."
A soft exhale on the other end.
"All right," Roy said at last.
"I'll arrange an invitation for you."
In the room, someone let out a barely audible breath; one of the team relaxed into a chair in visible relief.
"Thank you," Ethan said.