Finally they went to a divider that hindered their way, however Vlad advised them there was a stone line sunk into the base. They would need to slither along it, he said, for some significant distance. “Is there no alternate way?” asked Beheim, uncomfortable with this possibility. “Not except if we remember our means and start once more,” said Vlad. “I picked the most limited course, ruler. It isn’t the simplest to arrange, however there is none more straightforward. None more stowed away from inquisitive eyes.” Beheim had no real option except to acknowledge this. Thus, with Vlad driving and Giselle raising the back, they put forward. The line was barely adequately wide to concede them; from the fecal smell and tacky surfaces, Beheim expected it to be important for a waste framework. The air was warm, and the sound of their breathing made the warmth appear to be more abusive yet and the haziness to appear to be falter, similar to dark paste thickening Beheim’s noses and lungs. He kept not far behind Vlad, so close that sometimes his hand would brush one of the man’s feet, yet the farther they went, the less mindful of their aide he became. His considerations spun in forlorn circles. To be decreased to this! Creeping like a bug along a break in a world he had once longed for administering. Disdain extended in his skull with such unmistakable power, he envisioned his body expanding, filling the channel, adjusting to its shape, being formed into a slug that would be spat forward into the minds of his adversaries. Disdain turned into a sort of splendid insight, and he perceived how he would get payback for this embarrassment. He had been a lot in wonder of his cousins, excessively intrigued by their actual prevalence over dare testing them; yet he understood now that their inclination for games and trickeries drove straight into his qualities. He was not hesitant to coordinate with brains with them; in that kind of challenge, it very well may be they who were outmanned. What’s more, gracious, what a game he would devise for them! What a guile succession of confusions! Obviously it would all rely on his initially intriguing the Patriarch and acquiring his certainty. He required an ideal falsehood, something that fused reality—whatever section of reality he knew—and weaved it with suggestion, conveying nothing of substance, yet causing it to appear to be that his instinct had produced a track to the core of the wrongdoing. When the untruth had tackled its job, he would bring his foes into the web it made. Agenor, Alexandra, and whoever else came to represent a trouble. They were every one of his foes in this. Furthermore, in spite of his snapshot of edification that had happened after hearing the tune of his blood, even those of his branch were suspect. That, he understood, was the idea of the Family: it was a group of mortal adversaries, an attribute that occasionally demonstrated the two its most significant shortcoming and most noteworthy strength. His considerations were hindered by a stifling clamor behind him, a stir, the sound of something being hauled away. Then, at that point a pounding, a crash, starting at a significant burden being slid down along a track. Frightened, Beheim attempted to turn and struck his sanctuary on the line; torment dazed him for a moment. “Giselle!” he said, grasping the harmed place. “So that is the woman’s name,” said Vlad. “I like it.” “Where are you, Giselle?” “Past your grasp, vampire.” Vlad was talking from a goodly ways off, and Beheim acknowledged he probably mixed on ahead. “How have you managed her?” “She is as of now not your anxiety,” said Vlad, his words double-crossing none of their past whimsy. “I recommend you currently offer idea to your spirit. On the off chance that you have one.” Beheim perceived that Vlad couldn’t have ever tended to him with such lack of respect except if he had some incredible type of protection close by, thus he didn’t surge forward steeply. He edged toward the sound of the man’s voice and, regardless of his developing uneasiness, tried a snicker. “What’s more, what of your spirit, Vlad? What will happen to it when I have finished with you?” “You have no control over me. You’re a dead man. Something dead. In a second the entirety of your lethal days will be finished.”