Where...

I roused, trying to wade through the dredge of dull pain and confusion muddling my mind. Why - ohmygoddamnhead. Why does it... A man in black, a man with a dagger to my throat, dragging me away and knocking me unconscious. A dream. Oh, gods, please let it be a dream. Or am I dead? I shifted, my arms stretched taut and bound behind my back. The silence echoed, throbbing in my skull. Quiet. I pressed against the silence, daring a groan.

"Ah, good. You are awake."

A Breton voice, definitely - Traven? I opened my eyes at last, blinking blearily as the world swam into view. "Arch Mage, I -" I stopped short. A gaunt, dark-eyed man sat before me, hair bound in a leather strip and gaze sharp on me. Not Traven. Definitely not Traven.

"Who..." I managed, gritting my teeth against the resounding throb in my head. My binds held me tight, and with a hiss I fought against them.

"Don't bother struggling. I will rip out your throat, should you become tiresome." He seemed unaffected by my flinch, eyeing me cooly. "Understand?"

Play along. Play along until you get your chance, and escape. Slowly, I nodded.

"Good." He smiled, intertwining his fingers and leaning toward me. Sharp teeth. Too sharp. And those eyes... I shivered as he spoke. "What is your name?"

"Dust. Gabriel Dust." I tensed, biting my lip. "What do you want with me? Aren't I supposed to be dead?"

He laughed softly. "How forward. I don't suppose you are asking me to kill you?" He shook his head at my murmur. "I thought not. I have no intention of explaining the situation to you, Miss Dust."

I need information. I gnawed my lip, staring hard at the man as he gazed mildly back at me. A vampire. I'm tied up with a bloody vampire. "Who are you?"

"That, I suppose I can answer. At least in part." He tilted his head, casting his sanguine eyes over me. "You may call me Vicente."

"How long have I been here?"

That laugh again, too soft to be mocking, too amused to be polite. "Bold. As I've said, I - "

"Vicente! Vee!"

The vampire sighed, pressing his temple. "Antoinetta, I have told you time and time again not to call me that. What do you need, sister?"

A woman came bounding around the corner, blonde curls bouncing around her chin, eyes gleaming. She caught my stare and grinned, moving with a hum to Vicente's side. I barely contained a snort. An assassin? That girl is a killer?

"I wanted to see the prisoner. Oh, she doesn't look so good." The girl pursed her lips, then smiled. "Wonderful. Why do we even need her tied up? I could slit her throat before she could flinch."

Oh. I grimaced, trying to shrink back in my chair as far as possible. Alright. Yes. Definitely a killer.

"Wonderful, indeed. I believe it is time for you to take over, yes, sister?" Vicente stood, giving Antoinetta a warm, wry smile. "I grew weary of watching her, and I have other tasks to attend to."

"But - "

"Antoinetta."

"But!"

"Sister."

"Fine." She sat with a curse, pouting after Vicente as he left before turning her gaze on me. "You'd better be entertaining."

I watched her silently, a bitter taste clinging to the back of my throat. It was too familiar, what I'd just seen. Like squabbling with Anya. "He called you sister."

"I don't look like him, do I?" She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "That'd be awful. No, we're not related. It's something better than that." She smiled, a dimple at the corner of her cheek. "Now, don't ask any more stupid questions or I'll cut your tongue out. The Speaker will deal with you soon, anyway."

"The Speaker?" I flinched at her glare, remembering her threat.

"Speaker. The man who was going to kill you." She enunciated as though talking to a child, rolling her eyes. "There must be a reason he kept you alive. Though you don't look too valuable." She narrowed her eyes. "What's your name?"

"Dust. Gabriel Dust." I squeezed my eyes shut against the throb of pain in my head, snarling. "Why am I here? What do you people want from me?"

"Don't be rude!" The girl pouted. "I'm not really sure. Something about the dagger you had on you, Vee said. Wait..." I watched as she fumbled with her belt, brandishing a blade and baring it before me. "Like this one."

Silver and ebony, tendrils of gold whispering over its surface. This dagger had seen years of use - it was worn and dulled around its edges. Not mine, but... I bit my lip, following the golden design with my eyes, catching my breath as the sprig of nightshade it held.

Identical. Identical to mine.

"It looks like yours, right?" Antoinetta smirked, sheathing it. "Only we can possess one. It means we're family, you know. A family of murderers!" She giggled, eyes shining. "But you're not one of us, are you?"

A sinister feeling rose from my gut. "...No."

"So, who gave it to you?"

Maman could never have afforded it. I shifted my gaze, gluing my eyes to the ground. Not while Papa was alive. So Toltette. It was Toltette's, and he gave it to her.

Papa died, and Toltette took us away.

"My stepfather." I whispered, my skin prickling as his face, cruel as from my nightmare, arose. He killed him. He killed Papa, and Falrung. I shuddered, something deep inside my twisting into a painful coil. He's one of them, gets what he wants through blood. Killed him, wedded and bedded my mother, ripped our family apart.

"You're all pale." Antoinetta glanced at me curiously. "What's wrong?"

A family of murderers ripped my family apart. "Family," I spat, bracing my feet against the floor, clenching my jaw. "Family. That's what's wrong."

"Sister."

"Oh!" She rose, clutching her hands and smiling at the distant voice. "Speaker, what an honour. How may I serve?"

"You may attend to your duties, Antoinetta." Unable to turn I could only imagine, connecting the face with the voice. Dark eyes, a proud nose, lips thin and harsh and twisted in a smirk. "I would like to speak with our friend here."

The girl scurried away. I tensed, flinching at the creak of the door, watching as a man seemed to simply form from the shadows.

"Hello, poppet."