Index of Terms

The Order: A vampire organisation made up of eight councils in Phoenix, Chicago, Denver, Seattle, LA, Austin, Miami and New York. The Order acts as a government to vampires and maintains the secrecy of their race from humans.

Consensuals: Humans contracted by The Order for vampires to feed on.

Initiation: The process of officially swearing a human into The Order so they can gain full access to information and records.

Debriefing: Wiping a human memory.

Warnings: Contains themes of violence, torture and horror.

AN: As always, thank you to Yvonne/Southsidesister (darvey_love) for dedicating your time and talent. You really are amazing and I love you ❤️ Thank you to Beth (NAhavenbb) for your amazing ideas and sharing your stories with me! And a happy-early-birthday shout-out to Jessica (jessicaahyfr.) I hope you wake up to all the grande mochas tomorrow :) xxxx

Chapter 4: Bloodkeeper Pt2

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New York City, 2002.

Harvey hangs back from the kitchen, the smell of blood stalling his movements.

He's no longer bound by bloodlust. A decade in New Orleans distracting himself with the music scene, gambling and sex, helped curb the insatiable hunger he fought after The Order took over. They proclaimed vampires could only feed on consensual humans, those assigned to the council's books. The scheme was a money racket for humans, and a way for The Order to assert their newfound control. But now the service has become a way of life—integrated like vampires schooling themselves to blend into society.

He's been learning law, following in Jessica's footsteps and immersing himself in a career. The DA's office is showing him what it means to be human—the best and worst of humanity. Which is why he hesitates at the threshold of the small kitchenette.

He has a type; consensuals with blood that tastes warm and spicy, the sensation like getting drunk on mulled wine and thriving on reckless abandonment.

The aroma surrounding him now is sweeter and richer, tantalizing, like a strawberry liquor mixed with dark chocolate. The scent wields a different type of control over his senses, his heartbeat slowing with the desire to savour it.

"There's a dust-pan under the sink."

A voice lures him out of the shadows where he finds a redhead with her back to him, hovering over shards of broken glass.

"Unless you're afraid to get your hands dirty?" Donna glances over her shoulder, wrapping a tea-towel around her hand as the Assistant District Attorney kneels down in his neatly pressed suit, opening the cupboard door.

"Are you okay?" He grips the small broom, glancing up. He's not used to being ordered around, especially today when the office has been buzzing about his victory in court. But there's something humbling about her smirk.

"I think I'll survive."

"Glad to hear it." He flashes her a smile. "Maybe we should celebrate the near-miss over a drink sometime?"

The ADA lazily sweeps up the glass, a grin plastered on his face, and a genuine—if not surprised—laugh catches in her throat as he stands up. She was planning on introducing herself at his drinks tonight, and his shameful flirting makes her more determined to stick with her original plan. She doesn't want to come across as easy, and reaches out to steal the dustpan, motioning to all the pieces he missed. "Not if this is how much attention you pay to detail."

She bends down, and his nostrils tingle as her blood seeps into the cloth. But the desire thrumming through him isn't what throws him off his game. It's the fact she's hurt and he isn't allowed to help that sets him on edge. As a result, he keeps his distance as she scatters the mess in the bin—more than just sexual innuendo spilling into his voice. "Attention to detail isn't a problem, believe me." He can sense the blood clotting, her skin healing, and he turns on the faucet, signaling for her to wash the injury.

She unwraps her palm, jutting it under the spray of water, and winces. But the cut comes away clean, and she smiles, turning off the tap."Maybe I'll see you tonight at Crew?"

He squints slightly, not sure if she's teasing him or genuinely doesn't know who he is, but his intrigue overrides his ego, setting off alarms in his head. With most women he would rather boast his win, but he finds himself sending her a casual shrug, instead. "Yeah, maybe."

She tosses the tea-towel in the bin, her heels clicking across the floor.

As soon as she's gone, he exhales slowly, trying to shake the intoxicating smell of her blood that's still lingering in the air—the same reason he was hesitant to approach her in the first place. He doesn't know why he's so enticed by her. Maybe it's a combination of things; her disinterest in his winning charm, her confidence, or the fact her blood is like a delicate but rich perfume, leaving him dizzy and wanting more.

Unfortunately, neither of those are reasons to pursue her. Whoever she is, he's here to do a job—not get distracted. Between becoming a lawyer and his litigation duties within The Order, there's no room in his personal life for humans beyond feeding and fun. Even if there was a way to bring her into the fold, the world he lives in is fraught with rogue vampires and unseen dangers lurking in the shadows.

It's better that he stay away from the mysterious redhead.

For his sake, as well as her own.

...

Harvey slams the door of his apartment, scrubbing a hand over his face as fear and exhaustion pinprick dizzy spots across his vision. The hours he and Mike spent trawling over Donna's lineage in the archive turned up nothing except dead-ends. In that time, Darius has been doing God only knows what to her, and he can't—

The thought slams to a halt and his stomach drops as a strong floral aroma assaults his senses. He didn't order flowers nor would anyone send them, and a shaky step leads him around to a sea of candles flickering in his apartment. He glances down, bile leaping into his throat at the trail of rose petals leading to his bedroom, and his keys land on the floor with a defeating thud.

He's no stranger to the twisted games Darius plays with his victims, luring them to carnage and bloodshed. He's even been part of orchestrations like this himself, a long time ago when he cruelly—and blindly—did Darius' bidding.

His breath jams in his throat, his entire body shutting down as visions of Donna lying lifelessly on the other side of his bedroom door torments his mind.

His knees come close to buckling when suddenly he hears it—a faint beat that's nearly inaudible over the sound of his frantic heart pummeling his chest. The fragile hope of Donna being alive is enough to flash him forward, the candles extinguishing in his wake.

He throws open the sliding doors and his gaze falls over her pale features tucked up in his bed. With a speed he didn't know he possessed, he zips across the room, his nostrils flaring at the smell of blood.

She isn't just sleeping. Her skin is slick with sweat, radiating heat, and he thrusts the blanket off, revealing a splatter of crimson across the sheets.

"Donna?!" He palms her warm cheek, desperately trying to rouse her. "Wake up. Come on…"

She stirs, her eyes fluttering open with a gasp as her face contorts in pain. He helps lift her up, flinching at her weak whimper. The back of her dress is stained with blood, and he twists her around, his fingers trembling as they wrench her zipper down, erupting a sob from her shaking body.

Anger flares inside him at the insignia that's been brutally carved into her skin—Darius' calling-card. For centuries his Maker marked all his betrayer's out of revenge, but Donna isn't the intended recipient of the message. His own initials are welted into her flesh, and he grits his jaw, ripping the seam of her dress away from the callous wounds.

Her vision spins as the fabric falls off her shoulders, and she buries another cry into the ruined garment, clutching it tightly as his palm sears a trail of fire across her exposed back. Flashes of the cavern Darius forced her to see, strobe through her mind, but she blocks them out, in too much agony to visit the memory again. She can barely breathe, her labored gasps ringing in her ears, but a warm tingle slowly swallows the pain, leaving a dull ache in its wake.

She pants heavily, the room swimming into focus and bringing with it crashing waves of guilt. She let Darius get inside her head, leaving Harvey to find her like this. He's not saying a word, but she can feel the anger pulsating through his fingertips as he uses his blood to heal her.

When she's able to move more freely, she angles her gaze over her shoulder with a hoarse whisper. "I'm so sorry, Harvey."

He stills at her apology, glancing up at the dampness coating her cheeks. Never, in all his centuries of being alive, has he ever felt such a murderous rage towards Darius. For hurting her. For making her believe any of this was her fault. "Don't you dare apologize." He sucks in sharply, hanging his head so she won't see the moisture burning in his own gaze. "None of this is on you."

Except it is. She shakes her head wearily. Whatever being the Bloodkeeper means, Darius used her. He unlocked something in her mind and now, because of her, he knows where the tomb of the First Vampire is located. Harvey is still in the dark about everything, but he needs to know, and she twists further around to explain what happened. "I had another vision. I think—"

"Donna," he exhales her name as a warning. "I need you to sit still."

She ignores him, adamant that he listens to her. "You don't understand. He took me because—"

"Donna," he snaps her name more harshly. He isn't finished healing her and can't mend scar tissue. If she doesn't let him close the wounds properly, she'll be left with a permanent reminder of what she went through, and there's no goddamn way in hell he's leaving Darius with that satisfaction. "Turn around. Please."

He's not really asking, and she sags forward with a sigh, catching their reflection in the window. His brow is furrowed in concentration, his shoulders tight like they're ready to snap, and she hikes up her ruined dress, salvaging what little of her modesty she can. "Darius called me the Bloodkeeper."

The term rings in his mind without any information attached, but he honestly doesn't care what lies Darius tried to fill her head with. He doesn't need another reason to hunt down his Maker and tear the man limb from limb, again. The difference is this time there won't be any parts left to resurrect.

She takes his silence to mean he's just as in the dark about the Bloodkeeper, and she keeps trying to explain, "Darius showed me a place in my memory, and that's where he's going. We need to—"

"We aren't doing a goddamn thing," he growls, sealing the last of her cuts.

She flashes him an annoyed look, and his insides clench when she tries to maneuver around him.

"Donna." He clasps her wrist, causing the dress to slip, and he quickly lets go, tearing his gaze away from the eye-full of cleavage she hurriedly tries to cover. The revealing view of her reflection in the window isn't any safer, and heat blazes across his neck, not because she's half-naked in his bed, but because she's alive in his bed—the sight causing relief to swell in more places than just his chest.

He slams his eyes closed, hoping she won't see how affected he is. How scared he is. She's already preparing to run straight back into danger, and he's trapped behind a wall of panic, struggling to catch his breath.

His face contorts like he's in pain, and her embarrassment slips away as she hikes the dress up again, shifting to kneel in front of him. Darius made no secret of wanting to make Harvey suffer, and she can sense the fear he's trying to conceal. She's scared, too. But she's more afraid of what will happen if he shuts her out. "Hey." She feathers a light tough beneath his jaw, urging him to look at her.

He takes a ragged breath, his eyes finally fluttering open, and she holds his gaze with a small, reassuring smile. "I'm here. See?"

He nods, curling his fingers around her wrist—his intention to gently push her away, but he ignores the internal warning, leaning into the comfort and resting his head against her pulse point. Three hundred years spent warring with his emotions, and he should know better than to grant them a foothold. Donna doesn't know everything about his past, but she knows he didn't exactly have a sterling moral reputation after losing his wife and child. Yet, she's never judged how his grief manifested. She guided him through moving on, helped him to heal, and tonight he thought he lost her too—the pain so severe he can still feel the echo of it shuddering through his veins.

Rather than breaking the contact between them, he slowly inches his palm down to her waist, feeling his way there to prove to himself she is really here. When he lands at her hip, he squeezes gently, like she might vanish without his grip as an anchor.

Her mouth parts in question, and he shakes his head, the air in his lungs too heavy to push out an explanation—why he can't bring himself to stop touching her. Frustrated with himself, he sinks his forehead against hers, still trying to find his voice.

"I'm sorry." He finally exhales."You were here, and I wasn't. If I'd known—"

"Stop."

She silences the doubt threatening to consume him, her breath mingling with his, and her lips warm and inviting as they gently coax him to listen.

"I'm okay." She'll assure him as many times as it takes to convince him of the fact. But what she really needs is for him to let whatever he's feeling out. To trust the emotions that really matter. "I'm okay and I'm here. I'm not leaving you, Harvey."

His nod is barely perceptible this time, his fingers digging tighter into her skin. Maybe her being here is more than he deserves after all the blood he's shed over the years, but holding her is like a tether to redemption. All the fleeting moments and missed opportunities between them have always been protected by her eyes silently telling him that if he wants more, he should reach out and take it. And for the first time, he's here with her too—the walls around his heart crumbling as he leans in capturing her lips. All he can taste is salvation as he sinks deeper into the kiss. She whimpers, the sound melting into a moan as he pulls her closer, curving his hands under her thighs to hoist her into his lap.

She loses purchase on her dress, but doesn't care as his mouth replaces the torn fabric, swallowing her exposed skin. A gasp erupts from her throat, and she clutches his hair, guiding his heavy kisses up to her neck where his fangs drag across her sensitive skin. She can feel herself slipping—too many countless nights imaging them like this taking over. But when he breaks for air, she reluctantly pushes her palm between them, warning him to stop with a labored pant. "We can't."

Confusion coils in his stomach as his eyes flash to hers. "Why not?"

She shakes her head, not wanting to give him the wrong idea. If they had more time, she wouldn't hesitate, but they have to come up with a plan to stop Darius. "We need to call Jessica."

He relaxes, a small smirk touching his lips. "Didn't think you'd be into that kind of thing."

She slaps his arm, drawing the blanket up around herself. "You know what I mean."

"I do." He sighs, reality crashing back down around him. If he had his way, she wouldn't be allowed anywhere near the problem, But she's right. They need to bring Jessica and The Order up to speed.

"Okay." He reluctantly loosens his grip, catching her hand. He's going to do whatever it takes to keep her out of harm's way, but he doesn't want her thinking that kissing her was some impulsive decision. "Donna, when this is all over…"

He falters, but his eyes are brimming with certainly, and she saves him from having to explain. "I know." They've never needed words to convey how they feel about each other, and this time isn't any different.

He squeezes her fingers, pulling himself away with a soft smile. "I'll call Jessica. There are clothes in the dresser. Take whatever you like."

She nods, missing his touch as the mattress shifts, but they have to focus on what's important—figuring out what Darius is planning and stopping him before it's too late.

Lifting herself off the bed, she flinches at the blood spotting the sheets. Wherever Jessica is, it won't take the woman long to flash through the city, and she doesn't want to leave Harvey with the reminder of what Darius did. She's fortunate that she passed out, her memories after the vision foggy at best. But she still has the urge to shower away the last twenty-four hours, and she quickly strips the bedding, leaving it in a pile by the door as she slips into Harvey's ensuite.

After she's rinsed clean and wrapped in his fluffy robe, she exits to find the sheets gone and Harvey sitting on the freshly made bed, clutching his Harvard sweatshirt.

"Jessica's coming, and Mike is on his way, too." He's not convinced involving the younger man is the right move, but he had to call. He couldn't leave Mike worrying about Donna. And as soon as he uttered over the phone that she was okay, Mike had pointed out that none of them would be okay if Darius decided to come after them.

"Mike?" she questions, suddenly concerned. Last time she saw him was just after the ferals attacked, and it's only just dawning on her that he was there when Darius kidnapped her.

"He's fine." Harvey drops the sweatshirt, clutching the edge of the towel to pull her closer. "We thought there might be something in the archives to help you, so I took him down there. He probably knows more about vampires than I do," he huffs, a little jealous of the man's eidetic memory.

She rests her hand over his shoulder with a soft squeeze. They obviously didn't find a connection to The Bloodkeeper or he would say, but she's surprised he jumped in and gave Mike access to everything so quickly, and that he was able to get permission from The Order. "The council agreed to that?"

He shrugs under her touch.

"You didn't tell them," she answers her own question with a small sigh. If they'd been caught, Mike would have been instantly debriefed, and she doesn't even want to think about the punishment they would have dealt Harvey.

"Hey." He tugs her belt, urging her to sit beside him. The worry she's wearing mirrors the way he feels inside, and if knew how to vocalize the knots in his stomach he would. He's scared for her safety, but he does know one thing—now she's within reach, he doesn't want to let her go. "Jessica and Mike agreed. Finding you was all that mattered."

His fingers brush her hand, and she accepts the invitation, sinking down onto the mattress and reading between the lines. She doesn't doubt that Mike and Jessica were concerned, but she also knows from the look on his face that he didn't give them any other choice. And she wouldn't have, either. "I wanted to see you. That's all I cared about." His eyes soften and she leans in, pausing for a beat to hold his gaze before she splays her palm across his cheek and kisses him. He responds with the same need burning through him, his fingers slipping beneath her robe and blazing a trail up her side, making her arch forward and—

A knock reverberates through the apartment, rattling through him, and he buries his head against her neck with a groan. He feels almost possessive as she pulls away, not ready to share her or deal with their looming problems yet, but he withdraws his hand in order to protect her. They need a plan, one that keeps her and Mike safe, and when he and Jessica have taken care of Darius, he's not going to waste a single moment showing Donna how much she means to him.

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Mike sits with a thundering headache on the couch, glancing between Donna and Jessica as he tries to keep up with the four-person conversation. After going through as many texts as he could in The Order's archives, he's now a walking encyclopedia of everything vampire-related. Unfortunately, information on Darius was scarce, and there was even less on the Bloodkeeper. He flipped through a few pages citing references to a human who could supposedly reach into the minds of vampires, but there was nothing concrete to his findings, just myths passed down through the centuries. He thought the Bloodkeeper was a fable, too, until Donna explained everything that happened with Darius. Now he has no idea what to think, but he listens without judgment as Donna fills them in on the rest.

"Darius is going to find the First Vampire. Or at least what's left of her." Donna winces, feeling an echo of the grief she felt while inside the vision. The eyes witnessing the event unfold saw the sacrifice as a tragedy, and she doubts the owner of the memory was responsible for the perceived wrong-doing. "I don't think Darius can resurrect her."

Jessica paces around the couch, her heels treading the wide rug. "He might not have to." There are countless myths, like the Bloodkeeper, humans have claimed to be true—most embellishments or fables. But she knows of one source that claims a vampire can be condemned back into the earth, born again through nature, like the oak tree Donna described to them. "He could be after sap from the tree itself."

"Why?" Harvey narrows gaze, confused and surprised when Mike answers for Jessica.

"It's her life-force—the source-blood." He remembers skimming across the same document Jessica is referring to. "In the text I read, there were accounts that the First Vampire had telepathic abilities and was stronger than any other creature. Some people even witnessed her flying. They theorized she was imprisoned to keep her power harnessed, although nobody knew where she was taken."

"Someone knew." Donna shrugs her hands into her lap. Unlike Darius, she wasn't able to pick up on anything useful from her surroundings. She doesn't know who's memory she entered or where the tomb is located, but if she can access what happened before the cavern was breached, she might be able to provide more answers. The problem is she has no control over the pathways Darius unlocked in her mind. All she can do is trust her instincts, and she throws her gaze up at Jessica. "I think I can go further back in the memory, but I need your help."

Jessica stops pacing, wondering why she's being singled out. "What do you need?"

Donna can feel Harvey's eyes trained on her, but she deliberately avoids engaging him. He'll never agree to what she's about to ask, and she doesn't even know if what she's thinking will work. But Darius said Harvey's blood was slowly awakening her abilities, and when Harvey healed the wounds on her back, she could see flashes of the vision clearer than she can recall now. With more time, maybe she could learn about the connection, how to slip in and out of the doorways. But they don't have the luxury of waiting around for her to figure it out. They have to force the memory forward. And if what Darius said about Harvey and Jessica's blood being inferior is true, then simply drinking from them won't be enough. "I need you to heal me."

"Not happening," Harvey growls, reading between the lines faster than Jessica and Mike. In order for her to be healed, someone would have to injure her first, and judging by her averted gaze, badly enough to avoid his approval. There's absolutely no way he's going to condone her getting hurt, even when she finally meets his gaze.

"We don't have another option." She can read the worry radiating from his clenched jaw, and knew he wouldn't like the idea, but this isn't some council meeting she's a wallflower in. It's her body and her decision, and she gently tries to coax him into accepting her choice. "I'll be okay."

Her eyes plead with him to trust her, and he shakes his head, hunching over and clenching his knuckles with a bruising grip. Two minutes into their relationship and it already feels like he's being emotionally blackmailed. She can't just pout and expect him to fall in line when they don't know the first thing about her so-called abilities or what trying to force them out might do to her. She's human, for Christ's sake. Her body has been through enough physical and mental trauma in the past twenty-four hours, and he won't risk her enduring any more suffering.

"We'll find another way," he argues, irritated when Jessica stalls beside him.

"Harvey," she warns, tentatively siding with Donna. She doesn't like the idea, either. But they're running out of time and she trusts Donna's judgment—provided it's real and not stemming from the pressure they're all under. "Are you sure about this?" she asks, gazing down at the woman.

"I am."

Donna nods confidently, and Harvey pulls himself up from the couch in response, feeling nauseous as he paces towards the window. The darkness outside is already growing lighter—signaling Donna and Mike need rest, and he leans against his reflection, wondering when the hell their business became a goddamn democracy. Darius is their problem. Donna shouldn't be waging a war she doesn't belong in, and the whole Bloodkeeper thing is bullshit. She doesn't have super-speed or strength. She can't heal herself or run on days with no food or sleep. He promised himself he would keep her safe, and he scowls when he hears rattling in his kitchen.

"Stop," he snaps the instruction, turning around. He won't stand idly by and let anybody else hurt her, and he flashes to where Jessica is clutching a knife, wrenching the object out of her grasp.

"I'll do it," he grumbles, his determination to make sure no one else causes Donna any harm twisting inside him in a fucked up way.

Donna feels a surge of relief as he calmly strides over, swapping places with Mike on the couch beside her. He's not happy. She can tell by the tension straining between his shoulders, but he's doing what she asked—trusting her. "Thank you."

He huffs, not seeing how he deserves any gratitude for what he's about to do. But she rolls up the sleeve of the Harvard sweatshirt she borrowed, obviously determined to go through with the ridiculous idea.

She extends her arm, taking a deep breath. The longer he takes to heal her, the better chance she has of finding what they're looking for, and she holds his gaze, bracing herself. "Make sure it's deep."

He clutches her wrist over her knee, feeling squeamish as he presses the tip of the blade to her skin. He's seen enough of her blood tonight, but the fastest way to get this over with is by doing it quickly, and he plunges the knife in, feeling it tear through the layers of skin and muscle.

An anguished cry rips from her mouth, her vision blacking in and out as pain sears through her arm, and she slams her eyes closed, trying to focus on the cavern and the tomb. But nothing happens. The burn through the cut is all she can feel until Harvey's blood tingles through the gash. Flecks of light grow brighter behind her eyes, creating instinctive pathways, and she tries to move towards them. However, dark tendrils leap up, swarming around the direction her mind needs to go. She can sense Darius within them, the coils of his power suffocating her physical form and squeezing the air from her lungs.

She chokes, gasping in the trance-like state, and Harvey feels a surge of panic as he spills more of his blood into the wound. It's healing faster than he expected. Almost completely closed over when her body suddenly arches, shuddering violently with convulsions. He tries to hold her down, whipping his head around to Jessica. "Do something!"

Mike rushes to step in, but Jessica digs her nails around his elbow, stopping him from intervening. She knows there's nothing they can do. The seizures aren't being caused by anything they can heal.

Harvey snarls, baring his fangs at the pair of them, when Donna belts out another sharp cry before going rigid and slumping forward into his arms. His face relaxes at the feel of her breath against his neck, but he's still sick with worry as he guides her back. He should never have agreed to let her try in the first place, and he slides his palm up to her cheek, angry with himself as he brushes her pale skin. "Donna, wake up."

Her eyes feel heavy as Harvey's voice floats into her consciousness, but she forces them open, blinking in his concerned gaze. She's exhausted, just like the last time she came out of a vision, but she broke through the barrier Darius put in place to find what he was hiding—the entrance to the tomb. "Paris… It's under a cathedral in Paris." She sits up, feeling something warm trickle beneath her nose, and she swipes at the drizzle of blood.

Mike pulls a tissue from his pocket, handing it over to Harvey, and relief mixes with his worry as he watches Donna bat away the man's fussing. She scared him, too. And maybe now isn't the best time to ask, but she didn't go through all of that for nothing. They know where the tomb is, now all they need is a plan. "So, we're going to Paris?"

"Absolutely not!" Jessica glares at him, and Harvey does the same.

"Not a goddamn chance in hell."

They both snap simultaneously, and Mike is prepared to back off when he catches Donna's gaze. He knows what she's thinking—they can't leave Jessica and Harvey to deal with Darius by themselves, and he squares his shoulders, ready to argue on her behalf. "Donna's the only one who knows where the tomb is, and I just crammed everything there is to know about vampire history into my memory. Someone needs to keep the firm running… It makes sense for three of us to go."

Jessica crosses her arms, tapping her heel as she turns towards Harvey.

"Did I stutter?" He glowers up at Jessica. "I said, no."

"The kid has a point," she argues, hating to admit Mike is right, because having Donna act as a guide would give them an advantage. She can see in Harvey's expression he's never going to agree to Donna going without him, and given he's not exactly brushed up on his history of ancient vampires, sending Mike while she stays behind is a smart move. "We can't both go, and if I spend another day away from the firm, people are going to ask questions."

"Listen to them." Donna pulls the tissue down from her nose, gently curling her fingers over Harvey's wrist. He glances at her, and it's obvious from his stern expression he's dead-set against the idea. But she's not leaving him to do this alone. "We'll be fine."

The soft yet stubborn look on her face tells him she's going no matter what he says, and he pulls away from her, shooting Mike a hard glare as he stands up and shoves past the younger lawyer.

Several moments later, the apartment door slams shut, and Mike turns to follow Harvey, stopping when Jessica's hand lands firmly over his shoulder.

"I'll go," she answers his silent question. "You two start packing."

Not willing to waste more time, she flashes after Harvey, taking the stairs instead of the elevator to beat him down to the lobby. When the doors ping open on the ground floor, she's already there waiting for him, and Harvey steps out, snapping at her.

"I can handle Darius!"

Her heels click after his fast escape, her voice rising as she grabs his arm. "What are you going to do? Stumble blindly around Paris, hoping you trip over him?"

He wrenches himself free, scowling at her. He won't have to do anything. They've spent decades running from Darius. If he stops, the man is bound to catch up, eventually. "He'll come to me. You know that."

"And then what?" She plants the hand on her hip, agitated by his arrogance. "Even without the source-blood, he's stronger than you are. This isn't a fight you can win."

He blows out a frustrated breath. Despite what she thinks, he's not looking to go on a suicide mission. He's angry and wants retribution for the scene he came home to tonight, But he isn't stupid. Darius doesn't want him dead. His Maker wants him to suffer and somehow knows what it's taken him years to access—that Donna means everything to him. His best chance at keeping her safe is buying Jessica and The Order time to come up with a plan, one that doesn't involve Donna or Mike.

"You didn't see what he did to her, Jessica." He growls under his breath. "Darius sent her back as a warning. If he has me, he won't go after her again."

An elderly couple enters the lobby, and Jessica pulls Harvey out of their way, waiting for their slow footsteps to pass. "You're right," she whispers, keeping her voice low. "Darius is using Donna to toy with you, but she's also the Bloodkeeper." Jessica reminds him of the recently learned fact, irritated when he rolls his eyes. They may not fully understand what Donna is capable of yet, but his reluctance to acknowledge her abilities won't do them any favors. "Whatever Darius is planning, we need to know more before you go throwing yourself under a bus."

His annoyance flares up, not wanting to admit Donna is wielding some kind of secret hidden power.

What they saw could have resulted from Darius messing with them. They have no idea what he did to her. But his frustration is tempered by the slightest chance he could be wrong. If Donna can reach into the past with her mind, then she's in danger no matter what he does.

"Dammit!" He scrubs his face, kicking his shoe hard against the wall.

"Listen to me." She steers him back to look at her. "I know you don't like this and frankly, neither do I, but Mike and Donna can help. We need to let them."

"Why?" He throws out a gruff retaliation. "Because he's a nerd and she's a psychic now?"

Jessica slants on her heel, folding her arms. "Because caring about people is only a weakness when there's no faith to fall back on. If you can't trust them with this, then Darius has already won."

The anger he's feeling sags from his shoulders as she steps aside, granting him access to the elevators. He doesn't want to go up to his apartment if that means accepting she's right, even though part of what she's saying is true. He trusts Donna. And Mike, for that matter. He just can't bear the thought of either of them getting hurt. "If anything happens to them—"

"It won't." She regards him with a tight smile. "I have faith in you, too, Harvey. Otherwise I wouldn't be letting any of you go."

He nods, breathing out a heavy sigh. It's going to take more than a pep talk to stop Darius. Fortunately, Jessica has her own private jet at their disposal, and his Maker can't have more than a few hours head start on them. If they move now, there's still a chance they can beat Darius to the source-blood, and he can slip Mike and Donna out of Paris undetected. "Fine. What are we standing around for?"

He takes the lead, jamming his hand against the button to take them back up, and Jessica feels an inward tug of relief. She knows he'll do whatever it takes to protect Mike and Donna, but she also knows they'll do the same for Harvey in return. Given their current situation—that's the best compromise she can offer.

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