The dawn that broke over the historic Nocturne Estate in upper Manhattan did not bring the warmth of a new day, but an unnatural, petrifying chill. Inside the grand gothic boardroom—where the Sanguine Council had gathered for centuries to manipulate the global stock markets and dictate the financial fates of the human banking sectors—the atmosphere was completely dead. The heavy velvet curtains were drawn tight, blocking out the morning sun, but the darkness inside was no longer a comfort to the unliving. It was a prison of absolute, pristine ice.
The massive walnut conference table, which had been clean and polished the night before, was covered in a thick layer of shimmering, deep-blue frost.
Sitting around the table were twelve elder vampires of the Primordial Sanguine lineage. Their
