Page 64 of Nocturne

I glare at him, but Abe continues before I can respond.

“Regardless of your personal feelings, this Callahan is a complication we don’t need right now.” He leans forward, brows knitting together. “These symbols you described from thewarehouse, the ones from Elizabeth’s diary—can you draw them for me?”

I nod, accepting the paper and pen Adonis silently provides. I sketch the symbols as best I can remember them—curved lines intersecting with sharp angles, circles containing what looked like stars or runes.

Abe studies my drawing, his expression growing grave. “Hmmm. I was afraid of that.”

Valtu crosses over and looks over Abe’s shoulder at the drawing, sucking in his breath at the sight.

“What?” I ask.

“These are Skardic symbols—ancient magic used by certain vampire bloodlines, primarily from Eastern Europe,” Abe explains.

“Vampires practicing magic?” I ask, incredulous. “Like witches do? Is that even possible?”

“It’s rare,” Valtu says. “But it can happen. Some vampires have the ability to barter with witches, to learn the spells and tricks from them.” He pauses. “Before, you mentioned seeing blood under the door when the intruder was in your house. Maybe that was a hallucination. Or maybe it was magic.”

“But witches and vampires hate each other. Witcheskillvampires,” I point out.

Valtu shrugs and has another sip of his drink. “I’m not sayingIlike witches. I’m just saying.”

“Most of our kind rely on our natural abilities,” Abe says. “But some bloodlines—particularly the older Russian families—maintained connections to pre-Christian magical practices. Many of them are part vampire, part witch. I knew one such vampire who was also a witchanda priest.” He stares off with a dreamy look I rarely see on his face. “He was even a pirate.”

Valtu’s eyes seek the ceiling and he sighs. “Always with the pirate,” he mutters under his breath. Obviously there’s some story there.

“Do you know who might be using these symbols in Los Angeles?” I ask, though I suspect I already know the answer.

“The Ivanovs,” Adonis says, his accented voice resonant in the quiet room, the sound of their name hitting me deep. “A Russian family that settled in Burbank after the Revolution. They keep to themselves mostly, but there have been rumors.”

“What kind of rumors?”

“Disappearances,” Abe says grimly. “Young women with specific blood types. Rituals requiring blood sacrifice. You know your friend’s blood type was reported as AB negative. That’s rare. That could be what the Ivanovs were looking for.”

My stomach turns.

Abe continues, “If the Ivanovs are behind Elizabeth’s murder, they’re likely planning something bigger. Something that requires multiple sacrifices.”

“So there will be more victims,” I whisper.

“Most likely,” Adonis says quietly. “Unless they’re stopped.”

“But why now? Why here?” I ask, setting aside my empty glass.

Abe shakes his head. “That, I don’t know. But I suspect it may have something to do with Cohen and his organization. The Ivanovs need protection, resources, access to potential victims. Information is everything in this new world.”

“When Elizabeth was making deliveries for Cohen,” I say slowly, “to these Europeans, she saw something at a warehouse—someone strapped to a table. She couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but it scared her.”

“An earlier sacrifice, perhaps,” Ezra suggests.

“And Marco works for Cohen,” I continue. “Could the Ivanovs have taken him? Used him as their next sacrifice?”

“Possible,” Abe concedes. “Though from what you’ve described, Marco doesn’t seem like their usual type of victim.”

No, he doesn’t. Which brings me back to Callahan, to the violence I saw in him, to the possessive fury in his eyes when he said I was his.

“What about Callahan?” I ask quietly. “Could he be…like us?”

The three vampires exchange glances. It sounds silly now that I’ve said it out loud, but it’s something that’s been nagging me.

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