Shelby Manor – Two Nights After Camden
The rain had stopped, but the storm was only just beginning.
Shelby Manor had been dressed like a palace for the evening: crystal chandeliers polished to gleam like stars, candlelight flickering through imported glass, and servants trained not to blink at bloodstains. It was the Russians' doing. Tatiana Petrovna wanted to remind the British that she still carried royalty in her bones, and she did it well.
But beneath the perfume and protocol, James felt it—a tension in the air like static before lightning. His senses, sharpened by days of spirit-world training and war, were tuned to something invisible.
Something hungry.
He adjusted his cufflinks—onyx set in silver, gifts from his mother's people—and checked his reflection in the hallway mirror. Behind him, a shadow flickered.
"Don't lose yourself tonight," he whispered to his reflection. But he wasn't sure if he was talking to the flame—or to something else.
The Arrival of Tatiana
She entered like sin wrapped in silk.
Tatiana Petrovna wore a dress the color of blood and secrets. Her raven hair fell down her back in coils. She walked with the calm power of someone who'd survived revolution, betrayal, and probably several murders.
When her eyes met James's across the room, time slowed.
She approached with a smile that didn't touch her eyes.
"Mr. Shelby," she said, voice like aged brandy. "Or should I say… Fireborn?"
He stiffened. "Where did you hear that?"
She stepped closer. "We have scrolls older than your Queen. Stories of a man born from both light and flame. Of a boy whose blood could call forth fire—but only if the darkness did not devour him first."
"Are you saying you believe those stories?"
"I am saying," she said, fingers brushing his sleeve, "that I can smell the fire on your soul."
Dinner Games
The dining table was a battlefield in disguise.
On one side: the Shelbys, dressed to kill. Tommy, sharp and unreadable. Polly, cold and regal. Arthur, forced into silence. Michael, wary. James, watchful.
On the other side: the Russian nobles. Tatiana, leading. Her uncle—the vodka-soaked Grand Duke Leonid. Advisors, half-drunk and fully dangerous. Their voices were low, but every word meant something more.
As the first course was served, Tatiana raised a glass.
"To alliances forged in blood and fire," she said, eyes on James.
Tommy's fork paused midair.
James clinked his glass softly. "Let's hope it's not the fire that burns first."
Later, between courses, Tatiana leaned close. "I know what stalks you in the dark, James. Velakar."
James's blood went cold.
"You've seen it?" he whispered.
"I've danced with it," she said. "But I was raised by women who knew its name. You were not. And that makes you vulnerable."
"What do you want from me?"
She smiled, dangerous and dazzling.
"Everything."
Seduction and Secrets
Later that night, after the guests had gone, James walked the empty halls. The moon cast pale light through stained glass windows. Somewhere in the distance, Arthur was shouting at shadows. Polly was drinking.
Tatiana found him in the library.
"I thought you'd vanished," she said, her voice softer now.
"I don't sleep much," he replied.
They stood in silence a moment. Then she said, "Do you know what you are?"
James turned. "A soldier. A thief. A man with a demon inside him."
"You are a key. A link in a chain forged centuries ago by your mother's people. You are not possessed, James. You are chosen."
"Chosen for what?
"
"For war."
She stepped closer. Their lips almost touched.
"I can help you control it," she whispered. "But only if you trust me."
He looked into her eyes—ancient, knowing, cruel, beautiful—and saw not a savior but a mirror. She knew what it was like to be chained to something dark.
And he kissed her.
It was not gentle. It was like fire meeting ice—violent, dangerous, inevitable.
Aftermath – A Warning in the Flame
That night, James dreamed.
He stood in a field of bones beneath a sky of fire. Tatiana walked ahead of him, barefoot, trailing smoke. And behind her, rising from the cracked earth, was Velakar—eyes like dying stars, mouth smiling.
"You let her in," the demon said. "You let me in."
James woke, drenched in sweat. The sheets around him smoldered.
Tatiana lay beside him, watching.
"You felt it too," she said.
He nodded, afraid to speak.
"I told you," she whispered. "We're linked now."