Four Months
Since Jules's training, Ambros had moved her to stay at the Cathedral. It was where she would be best protected—an environment where others could observe her.
Ambros walked to the front of the church, the snowy breeze hitting him in the face. He tucked his chin beneath the collar of his dress coat and opened the iron doors, the sunrise slowly spilling in behind him.
The Cathedral had been adapted for the vampires' benefit. All windows were blocked with a thick layer of iron, and every hallway and room was decorated with dim candlelight.
Ambros patiently waited outside Jules's room, his back against the wall. When the door opened, Jules startled at how quickly he had arrived.
Ambros's eyes lit up when Jules appeared; she had really grown into herself. She stepped into the candlelight, which reflected off her sea-blue eyes. She wore a red slip dress tied at the neck, leaving her back exposed, and black lace-up boots. Her hair was pinned halfway back, loose curls framing her face.
"You ready?" he asked.
Jules nodded, and he led her through the Cathedral. He was going to educate her on the hierarchy.
Ambros stopped at the end of a staircase that led to the top floor. He pointed upward, toward where the Supremes resided.
"The Supremes," Ambros said, "have absolute authority. They're the most powerful vampires in New Orleans, and they've been around for centuries."
Jules nodded in understanding.
"The High Court represents legislative and judicial power," he continued, pausing. "They control territory and make judicial decisions. They're the ones who decided whether you were to live or not."
Jules swallowed.
Noticing her fixation on his words, Ambros moved on.
"They typically consist of elders—those with wisdom and ethical understanding."
Then Ambros led her through winding hallways to a separate quarter of the Church.
"We have the Court Elites," Ambros said, noticing the change in Jules's expression—Lucian. "They're regional leaders, the most tactical vampires known. They enforce the law locally and control cities and feeding grounds."
They stopped in front of a wooden door, where a spiral staircase led underground.
"Finally," Ambros said, hesitating before pushing the door open, "our special assets."
Jules cocked her head to the side, confused.
"Some of our vampires receive gifts. Charlotte, for example, can manipulate minds at times. Cassius is incredibly strong." Ambros debated whether he should say the next sentence.
"Lucian Corvus is a wildcard," he added with a laugh. "He connects with animals and can project fear onto his enemies."
"And you?" Jules asked.
"Blood truth," Ambros replied flatly. "Once I've consumed blood, I can feel their emotions—like I'm inside their mind."
"I'm sure that can be draining," Jules said.
Ambros huffed. "It certainly can be."
Finally, Ambros pushed open the door, and they descended the spiral staircase—a torch in his left hand, Jules's in his right. He guided her carefully, ensuring she never lost her footing. When they reached the bottom, they were surrounded by a stone tunnel. Water droplets hit the concrete floor.
The air was dense and humid, and Jules crinkled her nose at the thick scent of smoke and fire.
Ambros never released her hand, his eyes fixed on the end of the tunnel. When they emerged, they entered a small room decorated with velvet curtains and black furniture. Ambros paused as the soft padding of footsteps echoed through the space.
"Seraphine Mourant," Ambros said, tipping his head.
A woman stepped into the candlelight. With ash-blonde hair braided down her back and pale gray-violet eyes, she appeared to be in her mid-thirties. She wore a black lace dress with a mock neck.
She dipped her head to Ambros before her gaze settled on Jules.
"How can I help you, Jules Thatcher?" Seraphine's voice was hoarse.
"How do you—"
"She knows everything," Ambros cut in.
"Please, sit." Seraphine gestured toward a small circular table draped in a red cloth. Jars, trays, and small bowls filled with bones and other trinkets covered its surface.
Jules sat directly across from Seraphine as Ambros watched cautiously, hoping Jules wouldn't be frightened by what was about to happen.
Seraphine gently took Jules's hands. Her touch was freezing, sending goosebumps up Jules's arms.
"Let's see what's in store," Seraphine said with a smile.
Suddenly, her expression shifted, her eyes glazing over, almost trance-like. Jules nervously tapped her feet together and glanced at Ambros, who offered a reassuring smile. In a matter of seconds, Jules's fate was decided.
Seraphine's eyes relaxed, and she exhaled slowly, processing what she had seen. The suspense was unbearable.
"Is it bad?" Jules asked.
Seraphine's eyes widened, fear flashing through them.
"I saw three things," she said, her voice trembling.
Ambros leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table.
"First," she breathed, "I see Silas in the sunlight—but not burning." She paused. "He's coming."
Ambros furrowed his brows, running a hand over his buzzed hair.
"When?" he asked.
Seraphine shook her head.
"I can't see timelines—only that it's in the near future."
She turned back to Jules.
"I see you drenched in blood that is not your own. You're crowned, surrounded by dark animals—gray wolves, I think." She squinted.
"Lastly, I see our Regent, Lucian Corvus." She hesitated. "He arrives too late."
Jules's eyes widened. She opened her mouth, but no words came.
Seraphine rose casually from her chair, pushed it in, and walked toward a doorway strung with hanging beads.
"Wait—that's it?" Jules snapped.
Seraphine didn't acknowledge her. She slipped through the beads and vanished.
"What the hell was that?!" Jules shouted.
When she turned to Ambros, his expression had shifted—tight, troubled.
"We need to tell the Supremes immediately," he said. "Silas is coming."