Evey knocked softly on the door that led to the discarded living room, where Tony had unofficially established his workshop. She had no idea what he did in here, exactly, but he had to keep busy at night, somehow. He called for her to come in, and she pushed the door open.

For once Tony didn't greet her with a smile. He looked...focused, utterly absorbed in his project. Evey examined the encumbered table, but there were only bits and scraps of various materials, as far as she could make out.

"Can't sleep?" Tony asked without looking up from his tinkering.

"Well, it's been a weird couple of days," Evey said wryly. "Got a lot on my mind."

Tony snorted. "You and me both, kid."

Evey rolled her eyes, but she made no remark as she stepped forward and sat down beside him on the couch. "What are you working on?" He didn't reply for a minute, and Evey wondered if he'd even heard her. She studied him. It was so unusual to see him frown so seriously, even in concentration. "Tony?"

He exhaled sharply, discarding the twisted piece of wood he'd been casting non-verbal spells at. "It's nothing important."

Evey waited for more, but he didn't even look at her. She got the message. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll leave you to it." She stood up, dusting off her pyjama bottoms.

Only then did Tony appear to fully notice her. "No, don't. Sorry, V, it's just...a vague project I've been working on. A prototype. Except it's not going well at all, it's frustrating, and it's therefore not worth talking about, I assure you."

"Tony," Evey began, biting her lower lip, "are you mad at me?"

He gave her a puzzled look. "What? Of course not. Why would I be?"

"I made you bite me against your will."

"Yeah, that was..." He waved the thought aside. "It's fine. I'm not mad, V, I'm just... It's all so bloody weird, you know?"

Evey scoffed. "No kidding."

"Yeah, I suppose it's even worse for you," he said abashedly. "I mean, after I was turned, I thought I'd never see or experience anything more bizarre in my life, but..." He trailed off with a shrug.

"What was it like, becoming a vampire?" She wasn't sure if he'd want to discuss it, but she was curious.

"At first I thought I was dead. Truly dead, I mean," he said with a dry laugh. "Waking up in a bright room, surrounded by these eerily flawless people... It felt like a bad trip on acid." Evey arched an eyebrow, and he grinned coyly. "I like to try everything at least one. Otherwise how am I supposed to know what I like and what I don't like?" he asked innocently. "Anyway. There I was, amidst these gorgeous freaks, staring me down, examining me, judging me..."

"They didn't approve of you becoming an Ancient?" Evey asked in surprise. "I thought you were the first wizard to join them. I figured they'd be thrilled about your uniqueness."

"Yeah, well, most of them are like grumpy old people, you know. They don't like change. I was a novelty and, as Walden pointed out earlier, not everyone feels comfortable around what they don't know."

"But they still...accepted you, right? I mean, Jeanne had to ask permission to turn you, and it was granted."

"The Bloodmother overruled the initial vote," he explained, "which was not favourable to turning me."

Evey felt a shiver of excitation. How much was he going to reveal? "Why did she do that?"

"No idea. I only saw her once, that first day, and she didn't even speak to me."

"What is she like?" The Bloodmother was – according to the legends, because Tony had starkly refused to say anything about her – the oldest vampire alive. She was rumoured to be thousands of years old. Some of the myths went as far as to claim that she was the first vampire, the Original One. For all Evey knew, she was as old as mankind itself.

Tony chuckled. "I see what you're doing here. I won't tell you anything more than I already have, V. I will already be in so much trouble if Jeanne finds out that I've outed her to a non-initiate, I really can't afford to make things even worse."

"But...I am an initiate, aren't I? I mean, how many mortals can claim to be able to turn invisible at will?"

Tony studied her very seriously, which made her feel a bit uncomfortable. "I don't think you understand," he said quietly. "There are fourteen Ancients, V. Do you know how many people were aware of our existence before I let you and Walden know?"

Evey shook her head mutely, though she had an idea of what the answer was.

"Fourteen, yeah," Tony said. "To be fair, Jeanne was granted official permission to let Walden in on our little secret, though I'm still not sure why." He paused, considering. "Knowing her, it might simply have been because she fancies him."

Evey made no reply, but she felt her shoulders tense. Tony grinned suddenly. "Just kidding. I'm pretty sure that she's the Bloodmother's favourite, so she can do whatever she wants if she asks nicely. And she doesn't get along with a bunch of the others, so this was her chance to show off to them. She does love drama, Jeanne does."

Evey had a hundred questions, but she kept the most important one – Did Walden fancy Jeanne? – to herself. Instead she asked, "But don't they have...partners? Spouses? People they care about and trust enough to share their secret?"

"Some of them have...close friends, but it's not a matter of trust. It's forbidden, plain and simple, to let anyone know that we exist, and as far as I know no one has ever breached secrecy – except me, with you. No matter how special you are, V, I doubt that they will be forgiving if they ever find out." He cleared his throat. "Pretending to be a regular vampire, as I'm doing here, is acceptable, but that's the extent of it."

"That's...a bit sad, really," Evey said.

Tony nodded. "They're a paranoid lot. I don't understand why, though. If we wanted, we could overtake the world in less than a week. It's not like people would be able to stop us, or foolish enough to even try, if they knew that we existed. A witch hunt against Ancients would only lead to humankind's extinction."

"They wouldn't want to kill you, perhaps, but they would want to become you," Evey pointed out.

Tony blinked, as though he'd never considered the possibility. Evey laughed wryly. "Tony, you're immortal and indestructible. Don't you see why some people might want that? People like, I don't know, Voldemort?"

"Well, when you put it like that," he mumbled.

Did he truly not understand the appeal? Sure, there were a few minor downsides, but weighed against immortality, eternal youth, power beyond measure, not to mention one very special ability... Hell, people would happily kill for this. Voldemort would burn the world to the ground if it meant becoming one of them – it was everything he'd ever wanted. If he ever learned of their existence... Complete secrecy certainly seemed like a reasonable decision, from Evey's point of view.

She held back a yawn. Now that she was satisfied that Tony wasn't mad at her – she hadn't realised that it was what had kept her awake until she'd relaxed when he'd laughed it off – she was feeling quite sleepy. Tony smiled and mussed up her hair in a brotherly fashion, though it hardly made any difference. Her hair was always a mess. "To bed with you, young lady."

Evey sighed ruefully. At least he hadn't called her 'kid' this time.

Seven months ago

Tony was reclining on a mattress, which was neither too hard nor too soft. It wasn't comfortable, exactly, but that was probably because his whole body was...numb. His head felt like it'd been stuffed with wool. He couldn't sense his own heartbeat; he didn't even seem to be breathing. It felt like sleep paralysis. Like being in a coma.

Oh, Merlin. Not that. Someone ought to kill him already. This impression of being stuck in limbo was even worse than Azkaban – at least in prison you were constantly reminded that you were alive, through pain or hunger or thirst.

"Open your eyes, fledgling," an ethereal voice murmured.

Tony attempted to comply, but his eyelids refused to cooperate. There were inaudible whispers around him, and abruptly liquid was trickling down his throat. "Drink, child. Drink it all," another voice said invitingly. Tony swallowed, purely by reflex. The liquid tasted...wrong, but it sent a shock of energy through his body, and he convulsed briefly.

His eyes flew open.

Five people were gathered around him – two on each side, one at the foot of his bed. The room was a brilliant, nearly blinding white, and the people... They looked unreal. Alien. Too beautiful to be true.

Bloody hell. He was dead, wasn't he?

A youthful woman, closest to him on his right, murmured something in a foreign language. Her pale face was delicate and unblemished, her long, fiery hair gleaming in the ambient light. The woman beside her was equally young, Tony estimated, and just as pretty, though she wasn't as perfect as he'd initially assumed: she was missing an eye. It only made her more striking, though.

She leaned forward, and Tony felt a small, cool hand partially cover his. "Look at him," she crooned. She had a heavy French accent, Tony noted. "So handsome. He is perfect." Her dazzling smile was contagious, and Tony felt himself returning it, though the words themselves were somewhat disturbing.

"Jeanne," the flame-haired woman said with a light chuckle, "do you even hear yourself?" Her tone was gentle, affectionate. She had a faint Irish accent.

"You were no better when our Jeanne was reborn, Alice," the only man present, who stood furthest from Tony on his left, said in a deep voice. He was tall and solidly built, with a shaved head.

"And you," the woman at the man's side said teasingly, "were even worse than both of them combined." She was petite, with medium-long, wavy dark hair and twinkling brown eyes.

The man laughed richly. "True, though I bear no shame."

"Nor should you," his companion said, placing a delicate hand on his massive shoulder.

Tony had no idea what was going on, and they seemed more inclined to have a private discussion right over his head than to explain what had happened to him. Sitting up in bed as best he could, Tony looked at the last person in the room, the woman at the foot of the bed. She didn't seem interested in participating in her friends' amiable banter.

She was...different from the rest of them. She didn't look old, and yet she didn't appear as young as the others. Her dark-skinned face had an ageless quality to it. Her thick raven hair was fashioned into an intricate braid, and her crimson lace dress clung to her curvy figure.

She was beautiful, in an intimidating way. She radiated power and authority. Her dark brown eyes were soulful and fully intent on Antonin's. She seemed to be weighing him, measuring him, as though she was trying to determine whether Tony was worthy of her attention.

"Don't stare, fledgling," the French woman, Jeanne, scolded him gently. "It's rude."

Tony blinked, as if coming out of a trance, then looked at Jeanne, frowning. "What...? I mean, where am I? Who are you?"

She patted his hand reassuringly, smiling. "You are safe here. You are alive, my child. Gloriously alive." Her single eye shone brightly.

That didn't answer any of his questions. He tried again. "Who are you?"

Her smile widened into a toothy grin – very toothy indeed. Tony gulped down some air reflexively. "Vampire," he whispered.

Alice brushed away a stray strand of hair from his face – not a romantic gesture, Tony thought; it was almost...motherly. "We are so much more than that," she said softly.

A door banged open in the background, and Tony nearly jumped out of his skin at the unexpected sound. Everyone around him turned to glare at the intruder.

Intruders, in fact, Tony realised as he twisted his head to get a better look.

"Cat? What in the blazes...?" Alice demanded, hands on her hips. She directed a stern look at the other two newcomers in turn. "Pat, Liz, what do you think you're doing?"

Tony studied the three young ladies who'd so rudely interrupted...whatever this was. The first one, who stood before the other two, was rather tall, with voluminous red hair, and she was pouting like a spoiled brat who hadn't received the pony she wanted for her birthday. The woman on her left was nearly as tall, but she was willowy where the other was stockier. She had high cheekbones and a remarkable nose. The last one was of average height and slender, with dark brown hair. She was glaring daggers at everyone who stood near the bed – and at him. Tony shuddered at the naked loathing in her gaze.

"I was going to ask you that same question," the woman called Cat retorted. "We took a vote! What's the magic boy doing here?"

Tony stared at her. Boy? Seriously? He had to be at least twice her age!

Jeanne actually hissed at the woman, like a pissed-off alley cat. "He's mine! Back off!"

The imposing man raised his hands in a peace-entreating gesture. "Everyone calm down, please. There's no need for this." He addressed the intruders. "The Mother has decided to overrule the vote, my dear ladies." He nodded toward the mysterious ageless woman. "This turning was done in complete legality, and formally approved."

"But Mother!" the glaring girl cried out plaintively. "He is nothing. He is no one."

Ouch. Not very nice, but true enough, Tony had to admit, though he had no idea why that was relevant.

"The Mother has spoken, Liz," Alice said woodenly. "Do you dare question her decision?"

There was no audible reply, as far as Tony could make out. The three nuisances slowly exited the room, obviously defeated.

The pretty, kindly woman who stood beside the man smiled at Antonin, her dark eyes gleaming with humour. "Welcome to the family, Wizard."