CHAPTER 18
The Aftermath
The sun rose over Munich.
Erik stood on the roof of headquarters, watching the city awaken. Cars filled the streets, people hurried to work—everything seemed normal.
They didn’t know how close they had come to annihilation. How one woman had given her life so that they could live.
“You should sleep.”
Yuki had stepped up behind him, two cups of coffee in her hands. She handed one to him.
“I can’t sleep,” Erik said. “Every time I close my eyes, I see her. Helena. The way she fell.”
“We all see her.” Yuki took a sip of her coffee; her hands trembled slightly. “Marcus hasn’t spoken all night. Thomas has been in the chapel, praying for hours. And I…” She trailed off. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to go on.”
“We go on because that’s what she would expect of us.” Erik turned away from the edge. “Katalin is still alive. The Council is still alive. The war isn’t over.”
“But we have the key.” Yuki gestured toward Erik’s neck, where the artifact hung—somehow darker now, marked by what had happened. “Katalin can’t perform the ritual without it.”
“Can’t she?” Erik shook his head. “She said the key makes the impossible possible. But she was willing to try without it—just with greater difficulty. No, she’ll find another way. She’s a thousand years old. She has time. Patience.”
“Then what do we do?”
“We prepare. We heal. We grow stronger.” Erik looked at her. “And we mourn. Properly. Helena deserves that.”
The funeral took place three days later.
Not in a church—Helena had never been religious. Instead, it was held in a small grove on the outskirts of the city, beneath ancient oaks, where the Night Watch buried their fallen.
It was a small ceremony. Just the team: Marcus, Thomas, Yuki, Erik. The three mothers had come—Anna, Mrs. Hartmann, Mrs. Özkan. And Mrs. Wagner with her husband, who had only just awakened from his coma.
And, unexpectedly: a stranger.
An older man, in his late sixties, with white hair and sorrowful eyes. He stood apart, watching.
“Who is that?” Erik whispered to Marcus.
“No idea.” Marcus’s hand drifted toward his weapon. “But he’s not giving off any sense of threat.”
Thomas delivered the eulogy. Simple. Honest. Without religious platitudes.
“Helena Konstantin dedicated her life to protecting the innocent. She fought the darkness, even when the darkness became a part of her. And in the end, she gave everything so that others might live.” Thomas’s voice broke slightly. “She was a warrior. A leader. A friend. And she will never be forgotten.”
They lowered the coffin—plain, made of light wood. Erik had insisted that Helena’s body be recovered from the rubble beneath the Gasteig. She deserved a proper burial.
Each of them threw a handful of earth. Erik went last.
He stood at the edge of the grave, the Soul Key heavy around his neck.
“I don’t know if you can hear me,” he said softly. “But if you can… thank you. For everything. For believing in me when I didn’t believe in myself. For guiding me when I was lost. And for the sacrifice you made.”
He tossed his handful of earth and watched it fall onto the coffin.
“I promise I’ll carry on your work. The Night Watch will go on. I will go on.”
He stepped back.
The ceremony ended. The mothers embraced one another, weeping quietly. Thomas and Marcus filled the grave, shovel by shovel.
The stranger stepped up to Erik.
“She was remarkable,” he said. His voice was deep, cultured, with a faint accent—German, but not Bavarian.
“Did you know her?” Erik asked cautiously.
“In a way. My name is Johann Steiner. I… worked with Helena many years ago. Before she founded the Night Watch.”
“Steiner.” Erik frowned. “That was the name Katalin used. The art dealer.”
“My sister.” Johann’s face darkened. “Or the woman who once was my sister, a thousand years ago. Before she became what she is now.”
Erik’s hand moved toward the Soul Key. “You’re Katalin’s brother?”
“I was. But I refused the transformation she embraced. I chose to remain human—to die human.” Johann smiled sadly. “Though ‘die’ may not be quite the right word. I’ve… found ways to extend my life. Not forever, but longer than normal.”
“Why are you here?”
“To mourn. And to warn.” Johann looked at the freshly filled grave. “Helena was one of the few who ever challenged Katalin. Who showed her that even darkness has limits. Her death will not stop Katalin. On the contrary—it will make her angrier. More determined.”
“That’s not exactly comforting.”
“It’s not meant to be. It’s meant to prepare.” Johann took something from his pocket—a small box. “Helena asked me years ago to keep this safe. In case she ever fell. She told me to give it to her successor.”
“Her successor?” Erik took the box. It was heavy, made of dark wood with inlaid silver.
“The person who would lead the Night Watch after her.” Johann met Erik’s eyes. “I assume that’s you.”
“I’m not a leader. I’m just—”
“The bearer of the Soul Key. The man who saved three babies, destroyed an altar, freed Helena from Katalin’s grasp.” Johann smiled. “You underestimate yourself, young man.”
Erik opened the box. Inside: a letter, sealed with wax. And a ring—silver, engraved with a symbol. The same symbol as on the Night Watch’s business card. The eye with the sword.
“The leader’s ring,” Johann explained. “Worn by every head of the Night Watch since its founding in the 13th century. Helena wore it for twenty years. Now it’s yours.”
“I can’t—”
“You must.” Johann’s voice grew firmer. “The Night Watch needs leadership. The city needs protection. And Katalin will not wait until you feel ready.”
Erik looked at the ring, at the letter. His hands trembled.
“Read the letter,” Johann said gently. “If you still doubt afterward, we can talk. But now… now I must go.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere safe. Katalin knows I was here. She’ll ask questions.” Johann turned to leave, then paused. “Oh, and Erik? One last piece of advice.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t trust the key too much. It is powerful, yes. But it is also hungry. Never forget: it takes as it gives.”
Then he was gone, disappearing among the trees.
Erik remained, the box in his hands.
“What was that about?” Marcus had come up to him, having watched the conversation.
“Katalin’s brother. Apparently.”
“And we just let him go?”
“He’s not a threat. At least not right now.” Erik opened the letter and began to read.
Helena’s handwriting. Familiar now, after two weeks of reading her reports, her notes.
Erik,
If you’re reading this, I’m dead. No mourning—I accepted death long before you ever knew me. In our world, it is not the end, but an inevitable consequence.
But my death means that you must lead now. The Night Watch needs a leader. The team needs direction. And Munich needs protection.
I know you don’t feel ready. No one ever does. I didn’t feel ready when I took the ring twenty years ago. Readiness doesn’t come from waiting. It comes from acting.
You’ve already shown what you’re capable of. You saved babies, fought vampires, carried the Soul Key with more dignity than most before you. You are not an ordinary human, Erik. You are something special.
So I ask you: take the ring. Lead the Night Watch. Finish what I began. Stop Katalin, save Munich, protect the innocent.
And when it becomes too heavy, when you doubt—remember those you’ve already saved. Lukas, Sophie, Ayşe. Their families. They live because of you.
That is what we fight for. Not glory. Not power. But for the simple possibility that people can live normal lives, unaware of the darkness.
Let them remain unaware.
In hope and faith,
Helena
Erik folded the letter, tears blurring his vision.
“What does it say?” Marcus asked.
“A task.” Erik took the ring from the box, studying it in the morning light. “She wants me to lead the Night Watch.”
“Will you?”
Erik was silent for a long time. Then, slowly, he slid the ring onto his finger.
It fit perfectly.
“Yes,” he said. “I will.”
Marcus nodded, a rare smile on his face. “Good. Because I have no idea how to run an organization.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then we’ll learn together.” Marcus clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on. The others are waiting. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”
Back at headquarters, they gathered in the conference room.
The team was smaller now, without Helena. The empty chair at the head of the table hurt to look at.
But they were still here. Marcus, Thomas, Yuki. And now Erik, sitting hesitantly at the head where Helena had always sat.
“First,” Erik began, “we mourn. Properly. Helena deserves our respect, our remembrance. But then…” He took a deep breath. “Then we keep working. Because that’s what she would have wanted.”
“Agreed,” Thomas said. “But we need to be realistic. There are four of us. Against an entire council of vampires.”
“Then we recruit.” Erik looked at Yuki. “You have contacts, right? Other hunters, other organizations?”
“Some. But most of them are… wary of the Night Watch. Helena had enemies in the hunter community.” Yuki hesitated. “She was too progressive for some. Worked with ‘good’ vampires, negotiated instead of killing.”
“Then we convince them she was right.” Erik stood and went to the map. “Katalin is still alive. So is Dimitri. Valentina. And how many others on the Council?”
“At least a dozen,” Thomas said. “Maybe more. Hard to say.”
“And the babies? Did we save all of them?”
“Yes.” Marcus nodded. “All three are with their families. Healed, thanks to the ritual weeks ago. They’ll live normal lives.”
“Good. That’s a victory.” Erik marked something on the map. “But Katalin will seek new victims. Make new plans.”
“She’ll be more cautious now,” Yuki said. “After what Helena did—reversing the ritual, banishing the darkness. Katalin will need time to recover.”
“How much time?”
“Weeks. Maybe months.” Yuki tapped on her laptop. “Rituals like that drain energy. Even for someone as powerful as Katalin.”
“Then we use that time.” Erik turned to the team. “We train. Recruit. Prepare. And we look for Katalin’s weaknesses.”
“Does she even have any?” Marcus asked skeptically. “She’s a thousand years old. What could possibly make her vulnerable?”
“Everyone has weaknesses.” Erik thought of Katalin’s face when Helena defied her. The surprise. The fear—just for a moment. “Even the eldest.”
“Then we’ll find them,” Thomas said. “Together.”
They spent the next hours planning. Recruitment. Training. Surveillance. There was so much to do, so much to organize.
But for the first time in days, Erik felt something like hope.
They had lost. Badly. Helena was dead, and nothing would bring her back.
But they were not defeated.
Late at night, when the others had gone to sleep, Erik returned to the training room.
He took the Soul Key, placed it on a table, and studied it.
“You killed her,” he said quietly. “Helena. You consumed her.”
The key did not respond. Of course not.
And yet Erik swore he could hear a whisper. Deep—so deep that he wasn’t sure whether it was real or only in his head.
She gave herself willingly. Like all before her. Like you will one day.
“No.” Erik grabbed the key, felt its coldness. “I won’t end like them. I’ll find a way to control you.”
Many believed that. All failed.
“Then I’ll be the first to succeed.”
Erik slipped the key back around his neck, feeling its weight.
He went to the window and looked out over Munich. The city slept—peaceful, unaware.
Somewhere out there, in the shadows, Katalin was planning. Waiting. Gathering strength for another attempt.
But Erik would be ready.
He was now the leader of the Night Watch. The bearer of the Soul Key. The protector of Munich.
And he would not fail.
For Helena. For the city. For all those who still had to fight.
The war was not over.
But Erik was ready for the next battle.
Far beneath the city, in the deepest catacombs, Katalin sat upon a throne of bones.
Dimitri knelt before her, head bowed.
“Mother,” he said. “The ritual failed. Helena—”
“Is dead. I know.” Katalin’s voice was cold, emotionless. “My own daughter, sacrificed for her misguided ideals.”
“Do you mourn her?”
“Mourn a rebel? A traitor?” Katalin stood. “No. But I respect her sacrifice. She died for what she believed in. There are worse ways to die.”
“What do we do now?”
“We wait. Heal. Plan.” Katalin moved to a window—not truly a window, but a magical mirror showing the city above. “The young bearer thinks he’s won. That Helena’s death bought him time.”
“Didn’t it?”
“Time, yes. But not as much as he thinks.” Katalin smiled—cold, cruel. “I have lived a thousand years. I can wait. And when I strike…” She touched the mirror, exactly where Erik’s image appeared. “He will not be ready.”
“When?”
“At the summer solstice. As originally planned.” Katalin turned away. “Six months. Enough time for him to feel safe. Enough time for him to make mistakes.”
“And the Soul Key?”
“It’s with him. But that’s no problem.” Katalin’s eyes gleamed. “The key and its bearer are bound. The more he uses it, the stronger the bond becomes. And one day…” She laughed softly. “He will no longer know where he ends and the key begins.”
“Then he will be ours.”
“Exactly.” Katalin returned to her throne. “Patience, my son. Patience is our greatest weapon.”
She sat down and closed her eyes.
And above, unaware, Munich slept on.
Not knowing that the darkness was merely waiting.
Watching.
Planning.
EPILOGUE
The Gathering
Six months later.
June came to Munich with unusual heat.
The city burned beneath a merciless sun. Tourists crowded the beer gardens, children played in the fountains, and life went on as it always did.
Unaware.
Erik stood at the window of his new office—Helena’s old office—and watched the city he had sworn to protect.
Six months.
Six months since Helena’s death. Since he had taken on the ring of the Night Watch. Since he had become its leader, whether he had wanted it or not.
The months had not been easy.
Recruitment had been slow. Many hunters distrusted the Night Watch, distrusted Erik—too young, too inexperienced, they said. But some had come. Three new members: Sarah, a former police officer from Hamburg. James, a British occultist. And Kenji, a Japanese monk specializing in Eastern vampires.
Training was brutal. Marcus showed no mercy, drilling Erik every day until he could barely stand. But Erik grew stronger. Faster. Better.
And the Soul Key…
Erik touched the artifact around his neck. It felt warmer now. Almost alive. He had been forced to use it often over the past months—small operations, isolated vampires, nothing compared to Katalin, but enough to leave him exhausted.
And every time he used it, he felt the bond grow stronger. The whispers in his head. The souls of previous bearers, calling, tempting, warning.
You will become like us, they whispered. Consumed. Lost.
“Not yet,” Erik murmured. “Not today.”
A knock at the door.
“Come in.”
Marcus entered, a folder in his hand. His face was grim. “We have movement.”
“Where?”
“Everywhere.” Marcus placed the folder on the desk and opened it. Inside: surveillance photos, reports, maps. “Yuki intercepted it. Vampires moving toward Munich. Not just from Germany. From all over Europe. France, Italy, Poland, Russia.”
“They’re gathering.”
“Yes. And there’s only one reason they would.” Marcus pointed to a date on one of the reports. “June 21. The summer solstice. Three days from now.”
A cold shiver ran down Erik’s spine. “They’re going to try again.”
“Looks like it. But this time, they’re coming with an army.”
“Do we have numbers?”
“Hard to say. Yuki estimates at least fifty vampires. Possibly more.” Marcus closed the folder. “We’re ten. Even with training and equipment—those are bad odds.”
“Then we improve them.” Erik headed for the door. “Assemble the team. Everyone. We need a strategy.”
The team was already waiting in the conference room.
Marcus, Thomas, Yuki—the originals. Sarah, James, Kenji—the newcomers. And, unexpectedly: Anna Berger.
“Anna?” Erik was surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard what’s happening.” Anna stood, resolute. “Katalin is planning something big. Something that threatens my family, my child. I can’t just sit at home and do nothing.”
“It’s too dangerous—”
“Wasn’t it always?” Anna interrupted. “Dr. Konstantin gave her life to save us. The least I can do is help.”
“She’s not alone,” another voice said.
Mrs. Hartmann entered, followed by Mrs. Özkan and Mrs. Wagner with her husband.
“The Mothers’ Brigade,” Marcus muttered—but he smiled. “All right. Welcome to the team.”
They sat down. Erik took the seat at the head of the table—where Helena had once sat.
“Status,” he said, his voice firmer than he felt. “Yuki?”
“Katalin is preparing the ritual. On the summer solstice, as originally planned.” Yuki projected maps onto the screen. “The primary location is the Frauenkirche. But she’s also activated the six surrounding ley line nodes: Viktualienmarkt, the English Garden, the Isar Bridge, Nymphenburg, Olympiapark, and…” She hesitated. “Here. Directly above us.”
“Above headquarters?” Erik stood. “That’s no coincidence.”
“No. She knows where we are. She always has.” Yuki pulled up more data. “I tried masking us, but Katalin is too skilled. She has spies everywhere.”
“Then we assume she knows our every move.” Erik turned to the map. “What does she need for the ritual?”
“Seven sacrifices at the seven points. Simultaneously, at midnight.” Thomas consulted ancient texts. “And something to amplify the power. Originally, she wanted the Soul Key. But without it…”
“What without it?” Erik pressed.
“She needs more sacrifices. Not seven. Seventy.”
Silence filled the room.
“Seventy people,” Anna whispered, horrified. “Where would she find that many?”
“Easily,” Marcus said darkly. “The summer festival. At Odeonsplatz. Tomorrow night. Thousands of people, packed tightly together, celebrating. Perfect hunting ground.”
“We have to cancel it,” Sarah said immediately.
“We can’t,” Yuki shook her head. “I tried. Anonymous bomb threats, fake weather alerts, everything. The city ignored it. Too much money invested. Too much tourism.”
“Then we protect it,” Erik said. “We go there. We guard the festival. And when Katalin strikes, we’re ready.”
“That’s insane,” James said. “We can’t defend thousands of civilians against fifty vampires.”
“Then what—let them die?” Erik looked at each of them in turn. “No. That’s not what the Night Watch stands for. We protect. No matter the cost.”
“Even if it costs us?” Kenji asked quietly.
“Yes.” Erik’s voice was steady. “Even then.”
Thomas stood. “Then we pray. And we prepare. Because tomorrow night will be a battle Munich has never seen.”
The next twenty-four hours passed in feverish preparation.
Weapons were distributed. Silver bullets, blessed knives, UV grenades—everything the Night Watch had accumulated over decades.
Warding circles were drawn at strategic points around Odeonsplatz. Hidden, invisible to normal eyes, but powerful enough to slow vampires.
And Erik trained with the Soul Key.
Not alone this time. Thomas helped him, showing him old techniques, forgotten rituals.
“The key is more than a weapon,” Thomas explained. “It’s a conduit. Between worlds. Between life and death. Used correctly, it can do more than repel vampires—it can banish darkness itself.”
“Like Helena did.”
“Yes. But Helena gave her life for it.” Thomas’s eyes were grave. “You must find a way to do it without sacrificing yourself.”
“And if there isn’t one?”
“Then…” Thomas hesitated. “Then you do what must be done. But only as a last resort.”
Erik nodded, feeling the weight of responsibility.
Summer solstice.
The longest day of the year.
The sun was merciless, but as evening fell, the city cooled. Thousands streamed toward Odeonsplatz, ready to celebrate.
Music thundered. Beer flowed. Laughter filled the air.
And in the shadows, unseen by the revelers, the Night Watch took their positions.
Erik stood on a rooftop overlooking the square, binoculars in hand. He scanned the crowd, searching for anomalies.
“Anything?” Marcus’s voice crackled in his ear over the comms.
“Not yet. But they’ll come.” Erik checked his watch. 11:47 p.m. “Thirteen minutes to midnight.”
“All positions secured,” Yuki reported. “Sarah at the south entrance, James to the north. Kenji is guarding the Frauenkirche. Thomas is with the mothers, in reserve.”
“Good. Stay sharp.”
The minutes ticked by. 11:50. 11:55.
Then, at 11:58, Erik saw them.
Figures moving through the crowd. Too fluid. Too fast. Vampires.
“Contact,” he said calmly. “They’re here.”
“How many?” Marcus asked, tense.
“I count… ten, fifteen, twenty.” Erik’s heart raced. “No—wait. More are coming. From all directions.”
“Shit. They’re surrounding us.”
“All teams, prepare!” Erik leapt from the roof, landed on the square, rolled.
People stared at him, laughed, thought it was part of the show.
Then the screaming began.
The vampires attacked. Openly. Brutally. No more pretense.
They dragged people down, bit them, fed.
Panic erupted. The crowd surged, trying to flee, but there were too many people, packed too tightly.
“Now!” Erik shouted.
The Night Watch surged forward.
Marcus fired, his pistol a staccato of silver. Vampires fell, howling.
Sarah and James hurled UV grenades. Light exploded—vampires burned, hissed.
Kenji swung his katana, blessed by a hundred monks. Heads rolled.
And Erik raised the Soul Key.
Light exploded outward, a wave of golden energy that hurled vampires back and shielded civilians.
But there were too many.
For every vampire they killed, two more took their place. The crowd was being slaughtered.
“We’re losing!” Sarah screamed. “There are too many!”
“Hold the line!” Erik fought his way toward the center of the square. “Just a little—”
A voice, amplified, magical, drowned out all others:
“Midnight.”
The bells of the Frauenkirche began to ring.
And from the ground—at each of the seven ley line points—darkness rose.
Not smoke. Not shadow. Manifest darkness. Solid. Tangible. Alive.
It reached out, seized people, dragged them inside.
Screams. Everywhere.
Erik watched in horror as dozens of people were pulled into the darkness.
“No!” He raised the key higher, summoned more light.
But it wasn’t enough.
The darkness devoured the light, growing stronger.
“Erik!” Thomas’s voice came over the comms. “You have to perform the ritual! The one I showed you!”
“But it will kill me!”
“If you don’t, they will all die!”
Erik looked around. The Night Watch was fighting—but they were overwhelmed. Marcus lay bleeding. Sarah and James were surrounded. Kenji fought three vampires at once.
And the civilians—thousands of innocent people—were being dragged into the dark.
Erik made his decision.
“Thomas, tell the others to fall back. As far as they can.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What Helena did.” Erik took a deep breath. “What must be done.”
He moved to the center of the square, where the darkness was strongest.
Raised the Soul Key with both hands.
And began to chant. The words Thomas had taught him. Ancient words, in a language older than Latin, older than Greek, older than everything.
The language of the first hunters.
The key began to glow—brighter than it ever had before.
And Erik felt his soul being pulled into it.
No, whispered the voices of the previous bearers. Not like this. You’ll become like us. Trapped. Eternal.
“Then I’ll be trapped,” Erik said aloud. “But I will not watch innocent people die.”
He pressed the key against his chest.
The light exploded.
Not outward this time.
Inward.
Into Erik.
He screamed. Pain beyond anything he had ever known—as if every cell in his body were burning.
But he held on.
The light poured out of him and the key, mingling, merging, becoming one.
And it collided with the darkness.
The impact was cataclysmic.
A shockwave tore across the square, hurling vampires back, ripping people free from the dark.
The darkness began to crack, to splinter.
And Erik felt himself fading.
Piece by piece, the key pulled him in.
This is the end, he thought. Like Helena. I’m going to die.
Then—a hand.
Reaching for him through the light.
A familiar hand.
“Not yet, Erik.”
Helena.
She stood there, within the light—translucent, a spirit, a memory.
But real enough to hold him.
“You’re not ready to die,” she said gently. “You still have so much to do.”
“But the ritual—”
“Doesn’t have to cost your life. Only your will. Your resolve.” Helena smiled. “Fight, Erik. Like you always have. Not against the key. With it.”
“I don’t understand—”
“You will.” She released him, stepped back into the light. “Live. Lead. Protect. For me. For everyone.”
Then she was gone.
And Erik understood.
The key was not an enemy. Not a tool that only took.
It was a partner. One that gave and took in equal measure.
And if Erik was willing to give—not his life, but his will, his strength, his determination—then the key would give in return.
Erik opened himself to the key. Completely. Without condition.
And the light exploded again.
But this time, it didn’t hurt.
This time, it was harmonious.
The darkness tore apart completely, disintegrating into nothing.
The vampires screamed, fled, burned in the light.
And the people—the surviving people—collapsed to the ground. Free. Breathing. Alive.
The light faded.
Erik collapsed, exhausted—but alive.
The key around his neck glowed faintly, soothing.
“You did it,” a voice whispered in his mind. Not threatening. Not hungry.
Grateful.
“We did it,” Erik corrected softly. “Together.”
The aftermath was chaotic.
Hundreds injured. Dozens dead—despite everything the Night Watch had done.
But thousands survived.
The official story was a terrorist attack. A radical group. Drugs that caused mass hallucinations.
No one spoke of vampires. The world wasn’t ready for that truth.
But Erik knew.
And the Night Watch knew.
Katalin had fled in the chaos. Dimitri too. The Council was shattered—but not destroyed.
They would return. One day.
Until then, Erik would be ready.
A week later, Erik stood at the grave once more.
Helena’s grave, beneath the ancient oaks.
He laid down fresh flowers.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For saving us. Once again.”
The wind rustled through the leaves. Almost like an answer.
“I’ll keep going,” Erik promised. “The Night Watch will grow, become stronger. And one day…” He touched the Soul Key. “One day we’ll stop Katalin. For good.”
He turned to leave.
Marcus waited at the edge of the grove, beside a car.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Ready.” Erik got in.
They drove back to headquarters. To the city. To work.
There was still much to do.
Hunt monsters. Protect people. Fight the darkness.
But Erik was no longer alone.
He had a team. A family. And a purpose.
The war against the darkness was not over.
But the Night Watch was ready.
Munich was safe.
For now.
Far beneath the city, in a new hiding place, Katalin sat.
Her face was calm, but her eyes burned with unrestrained fury.
“He will pay,” she whispered. “They will all pay.”
“When, Mother?” Dimitri asked.
“Soon. But not rashly. I’ve lived a thousand years. I can wait.” She smiled coldly. “And when I strike, Erik Schönwaldt will not be ready.”
“And if he is?”
“Then it will be all the sweeter to break him.”
She leaned back into the shadows.
And waited.
END OF VOLUME 2
Erik Schönwaldt returns in:
Volume 3: THE SUMMER SOLSTICE
The Final Battle for Munich
THE END