“Of course,” Fudge went on. “She also used to say that her pillow was trying to eat her head while she slept, but we believed her about the familiars.”

“What are you talking about?” Lorelei managed to unclench her teeth enough to say. He sat at a desk and began to ruffle through papers.

“It’s just that it’s uncanny how familiars match their owners personalities,” he said. “Take you and your sister. You have this very well-behaved white dog. It is clean and well-groomed and has been the model of doggy good behavior throughout this little ordeal. Whereas your sister, if you’ll forgive me saying so, has that awful black creature. It doesn’t look as if it has ever had a bath, it smells like a gutter, and it keeps growling at people.”

“So, if I understand you correctly,” Lorelei steepled her fingers, and looked at him over the tips. “You are saying that I have a white mannerly pet because I’m a white mannerly person?”

“Well, there’s more to it than that of course,” Fudge found the paper he was looking for with a triumphant sound. “It’s just interesting how it seems to work out. The good sister has a white dog, the bad has a black one.” Before she could respond to that, he stood again and handed the paper to her. “This may be a difficult thing for you to hear, Ms. Zephyr, but your sister has been implicated in the deaths of several Muggles.”

"Three isn’t several,” Lorelei said, reading the letter with a sinking feeling. Even to her ears, the retort sounded weak and childish. She didn’t recognize the three names on the list, but that didn’t really matter. Henrietta P. Charierre, Allexander Morgan, Sr., and Thomas D. Couver’s names were written in red, scrawled like blood over the white paper.

Who had they been? Were they young, old, evil, or innocent? Had they died quickly or had Esme taken her time? She suddenly remembered what Nathiel had said in her dream. She killed ME...She lied and robbed and murdered to do it, but she killed ME. What had Esme had to do to get to the vampires? Had these people on the list been enthralled to the vampires? Or had they just been in the way?

A year ago, Lorelei wouldn’t have had any difficulty believing her sister capable of murder. She had, after all, violently killed five vampires. Someone who could crucify a handsome young man, rip a woman to shreds, behead a child, or impale two gentlemen would probably have very few qualms about hurting people. Those five weren’t people, though, she argued to herself. Just monsters who still wore human forms. But what was wearing her sister’s form now?

“My grandmother has a saying too,” she said, more to herself than Fudge. North perked his ears toward her voice. “When you look long into any abyss, the abyss looks back into you.” Fudge tilted his head at her, puzzled. His look of forced concern and understanding was still plastered on his face.

She handed the letter back to him, so she wouldn’t have to say anything else. How human could Esme still be after facing so much darkness? How much of the abyss had looked into her heart and stayed there? And how much has stayed in mine? she thought suddenly. Tears began to burn around the edges of her eyes. She hadn’t cried for years before coming to Hogwarts. Tears didn’t help, after all, so what good were they? Now everytime she got upset, she got weepy.

North’s warm head shoved underneath her hand and her fingers tightened in his fur. He licked her wrist and she wiped her eyes with her other hand. Fudge hadn’t noticed her moment of pain. He was babbling on about black sheep in everyone’s family and how much her cooperation and courage was appreciated.

As if he knew anything about it, she growled to herself. If homicidal pillows were the worst his family had to offer, then he had no idea what he was talking about. He had no business being so smug about Esme either. She hasn’t done anything to him! If anyone gets to badmouth Esme, it’s me! She’s my family, not his. I can say what I want about her, but that doesn’t mean he can!

Sensing her growing anger, North ‘whuffed’ quietly. Fudge looked at him, pausing in his speech. Lorelei stood up stiffly. Her red eyes glowered down at Fudge. If I curse his eyes into facing inwards , she thought grimly, it won’t be because I’m defending Esme, but only because this fool has dared to speak to me this way. Grandfather Victor would understand.

That thought almost made her smile. Her paternal grandfather was Victor Zephyr. That name wouldn’t mean anything to Fudge, of course, but it had been her grandfather who had dealt with the wild werewolves at home. He had been a fierce, ruthless man to anyone who had crossed him, but a doting father, husband, and grandparent to his family. Rather like a wolf himself, Victor Zephyr would have likely hung Fudge by his ankles from the rafters just for speaking of anyone in the family with such disrespect.

I wish he was here now, Lorelei thought. I don’t want to do this by myself. Her grandfather was far away though, so she thanked Fudge as politely as she was able and turned to leave.