Even with another brute helping him—a rather large brute, at that—Thackery still struggled to drag Odin’s dead weight across the terra toward Caidir Olc . . . emphasis on the dead. The young lad’s labored breathing had stopped scraping through his heaving lungs about an hour ago, and his bony mass slogged over the terra the way only lifeless flesh and bone can. At one point, Thacks—desperately needing to catch is own breath—dropped Odin’s head so that it bounced against the earth. A sickening empty thud, with no obvious reaction. The blonde leech halted, quickly glancing at his pallid companion to see if he had any reproachful jibes to share. “Oops. Won’t do that again . . .” One cringe and disingenuous grin later, the pair had continued their laborious journey. Vampires already possessed nearly undetectable heartbeats; their pulses slowed to a quiet steady murmur within the cages of their chests upon turning, yet Odin’s became eerily silent. Thackery could hear no sluggish rush of fluid crawling through the prince’s veins, no faint squeeze of his heart, no subtle whistle of air hissing from his nostrils. After travelling for what felt like an entire lifetime, Thacks and Ghost finally began to crest the foothills leading toward Caidir’s hidden valley. Some mysterious inner sense told the golden beast that sunrise wasn’t far off . . . great. Not only did Odin have the audacity to die in front of him, his last request had placed Thackery in potential danger. He’d have to find shelter immediately after dropping this stiff off. And like FUCK was he staying anywhere that Draven slept.

Thacks turned lurid red portals toward Ghost. In the velvet darkness, the vampire’s glowing irises illuminated the opposite warrior’s ivory pelt a bizarre crimson shade. “Almoscht there,” he growled around a mouthful of fur and useless teenager. Night demons left no scent where they walked—yet Thackery knew with utter certainty that Caidir Olc loomed just ahead. Draven’s presence pressed against him like a disgusting stain . . . along with the auras of other fanged citizens. Eventually, evergreens and mountain scrub thickened into incongruous forests carpeted by moss and ropey vines. The toffee-hued knight stopped just shy of the invisible wall that divided Caidir from everything else—and promptly released his grip on Odin, allowing the fat husk to thump gracelessly at his paws. He didn’t even bother to rearrange the corpse to make it more presentable; Thacks merely stepped back as if Odin had turned into a giant repulsive earthworm and sat about a yard away, banner curled across his paws. Once more, he spared Ghost a glance. “Thanks for helping me carry him this far. If you want to beat it, I understand. I’m sure Mama Leech isn’t going to be pleased to see her idiot son starved himself to death.”

Shrugging, Thackery tossed his cranium back—exposing the bright splash of scarlet painted across his throat—and howled for an audience.