Roman lived in a small, dilapidated brick building in Spanish Harlem, right next to a grocery store and an empty lot overgrown with weeds and dead cars. There were few street lamps in the area, and the place was cast into shadow. The overall effect was a little unsettling.

I was no person to judge where someone lived, but this was not a place I would have chosen to take up residence at.

Roman pulled around to the back of the building and killed the engine, parking behind a red F-150.

He stepped out of the car without a word and started walking towards the back door of the place, leaving me behind in the dust.

I scrambled after him, tripping in my heels again. The last thing I wanted was to be left alone in the dark in some totally foreign area.

"Roman! Wait!" I gasped, catching the door he'd just opened before it could swing shut in my face. "Will you wait up a second?"

A light suddenly flicked on in the dark back stairs and I bit back a shriek when a woman in a tattered bathrobe appeared at the top of the landing. She looked half asleep and very grumpy, but she smiled when she looked down at Roman.

She said something to him in Spanish that he replied to with gusto, offering her a charming smile as he spoke.

Suddenly, I knew why Roman never smiled. His smile was killer. His chocolate brown eyes crinkled and he showed off straight white teeth and small dimples.

Holy shit. He had dimples.

I snapped back to reality when he gave me a small nudge up the stairs.

"Move, Holly."

I quickly walked up the green carpeted stairs, clutching my bag to my chest. I was beginning to feel much more nervous and nauseous now than I had been when I'd been asked to view the police line-up. I'd never been to a guy's apartment before. Just the two of us. Alone.

Geez. I needed to slap myself.

The woman at the top of the stairs gave me a polite smile and a wave before Roman lead me down a very narrow hallway. We walked for a few moments before he stopped outside a scarred wooden door to the left, a single lightbulb hanging from a wire attached to the ceiling lighting the way.

Roman slid a key into the lock and pushed open the door, reached around to flick on a light.

I cautiously walked over the threshold, gazing around.

The apartment was small, make no mistake, but you could tell that this was where someone spent most of their time. The burgundy couch had dips in it from being sat on often, the cream carpets were worn down, the tiled floor in the tiny square kitchen scratched from so many shoes walking on it.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, and despite the fact that this was Roman Ayers' apartment, the place was cozy and welcoming. It felt like home.

"Wow," I said. "I like it."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Roman said dryly as he shut and locked the front door.

He slid off his jacket and tossed it on the back of a table chair as he sauntered into the kitchen. I stood there awkwardly by the kitchen table, not quite sure what it was that I was supposed to be doing.

I watched as Roman filled a dented red kettle at the sink and then placed it on the stove, twisting on the burner.

"Tea," he said before I could ask what he was doing. "Have a seat."

"Er. Right."

I edged into the only other chair at the kitchen table and set my hands down in front of me.

Roman had asked me if I wanted answers. Apart from never having anything to do with any of this supernatural nonsense ever again, the one thing I wanted most was answers.

Was I actually going to get answers that might actually make sense?

"Why are you doing this?"

Roman's hand stilled as he reached for bottle of honey in the cupboard, and he glanced over his shoulder at me. "Doing what?"

I sunk my teeth into my lower lip to keep from groaning out of frustration. Was Roman really as stupid as he was acting? He'd brought me to his apartment, hadn't he?

"You brought me home to your apartment just to give me answers to any questions I feel like asking?" I said. "Because that is the impression I'm under."

Roman gave a short laugh, grabbing the bottle of honey out of the cupboard and swinging the door shut. "Maybe I should have elaborated. I'm only telling you what you need to know."

I felt myself bristling with anger at that remark. What, did he think I was too immature or incompetent to handle the truth? If the truth was even real, that is.

"Then why didn't you just tell me everything back at the station?" I demanded. "Would've saved you a trip, wouldn't it?"

"That would be because I'm breaking the Law."

"What?"

I was starting to believe that I needed to go to the doctor's and have my ears flushed out. I needed to stop hearing things incorrectly.

Roman remained silent as he poured out two steaming cups of hot water, added tea bags and then headed over to the table with everything.

He slid a cup of tea across the table towards me and took a sip of his own, not even looking remotely concerned about what it was we were supposed to be discussing.

It'd be nice to figure that out eventually.

After I let my tea steap for a few moments, I took a sip - Oolong, my favorite - for lack of anything to do. Roman obviously wasn't going to be saying anything any time soon.

There were thousands of questions I wanted to ask, but the silence in the room was overpowering and the ticking of the clock above the microwave wasn't helping.

When was he going to -

"You know, I didn't use to believe any of this. After the attack, and when I was sent here."

A small jolt of pity shot through me.

Attack?

I lowered my cup of tea and stared at Roman, unsure of what to say.

"You're not...from here?"

His lips twitched as if he might have been about to smile. He shook his head, taking a swallow of tea. "No. Spain."

"Oh." That explained the Spanish and the dark, attractive looks. "And...uhm ...the...the attack?"

He downed the rest of his tea in several quick gulps and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

"I lived in a small village outside Madrid with my parents and my two brothers. We didn't have much, but my father always made sure we had food on the table."

He fell silent for a moment and stared up at the ceiling, anywhere but at me.

I knew he was uncomfortable talking about this, but...it was apart of the story, wasn't it?

A story I needed to know about. A story I was now unwillingly apart of.

"It must have been lovely," I said quietly, tracing the rim of my tea cup.

"It was." He shifted in his seat uncomfortably before speaking again. "But when...I was twelve when they came. It was the night of the Hunter's Moon, and my brothers and I were playing outside, even though our mother had specifically told us to come inside when it started to get dark. But we didn't listen."

Roman's voice had become tight and strained, but he kept talking, his words quickly flowing together.

"And then we heard our mother screaming and screaming and these God awful noises, so we ran into the house and I found..."

I was almost afraid to hear the answer.

"You...found what?"

"My father. Dead. Or what was left of him, that is. An entire pack came that night. Butchered my mother and then my brothers. But then when they moved onto me, afterwards... I didn't die. Oh, they tried their dammed hardest to finish me off, but somehow I was still alive. So, they left me there, probably figuring that I would die eventually because of my wounds. And I just remember lying there, bleeding, thinking I was going to die, hoping it would just happen soon because I didn't want to live without my family. What else did I have to live for?"

Roman set his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands, an expressionless look on his face. I didn't speak, for fear whatever spell he was under would break and he would remain silent. I was sickly fascinated by his morose tale, and I had an odd desire to hear him finish, but still...

I wasn't a master at reading body language, but I could tell that he rarely ever talked about that night, if at all. Why should he? He shouldn't have to relieve that night, not if he didn't want to.

So why was he telling me?

"Crowley and a few others found me three days later. Took me back to London where I spent a couple weeks in the hospital. The doctors thought it was a little odd I'd gotten so injured from 'falling off a trolley. '" He smiled bitterly at that. "And that is how lowly little orphan Roman Ayers ended up in all of this supernatural bullshit, as you put it."

I leaned back in my chair, exhaling shakily. A part of me wanted to jump up and throw my arms around him, squeeze him tightly and tell him that everything was going to be okay. Another more sensible part of myself knew that Roman would never stand for that.

I couldn't even begin to imagine what Roman had gone through, losing his family like that. And he had to live with those scars every single day. How could anybody live like that?

"Roman, I...I'm so sorry."

He looked up at me with a deep frown. "Why are you apologizing?"

"Because." I reached across the table without thinking and grabbed his hand, gave a firm squeeze. "You went through something terrible. Something I wouldn't even wish upon my worst enemy. You...you're amazing, really, for...for doing what you do. You just..."

"Holly."

I quickly dropped his hand when I realized he was staring down at my fingers on his skin with an expression akin to looking at something under a microscope.

"Sorry," I mumbled, grabbing my tea cup and taking several swallows.

"No, it's..." Now he looked just as completely confused as I felt. "I..."

We sat there in an awkward silence.

I finished off my tea, running over everything Roman had just said in my mind.

I felt as if I knew him on a different level now, if not just by a little.

I felt incredibly sad for him and for his family and everything that had happened to him. And yet there was also apart of me that was jealous of him. Despite the awful ending that had befallen his family, Roman still knew what it was like to have a mother and a father and siblings, to be around people you loved.

That was something I'd never had. It was something I didn't know if I would ever get the chance to experience.

"Why did you tell me this?"

Roman raised an eyebrow. His expression alone was enough to ask a thousand questions.

"I mean, you barely know me," I started to babble. "And you just told me something that can't be easy to talk about. So, you...why?"

I slunk down in my chair and resisted the urge to cover my face with my hands out of embarrassment. I had picked that moment to suddenly act ridiculous?

He let out a deep sigh, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

"Don't feel special, Holly. I told you to make you understand that this is not the life I would have chosen for myself. None of us would have chosen to do what we do, not if we had the chance. So don't act like you're better than us, because you're not."

"I don't act like I'm better than you!" I exclaimed hotly, jerking upright in my chair. "I'm thankful for what you do! Whatever it is that you do, exactly..."

The itinerary of the CD hadn't exactly been properly explained to me yet. All I knew was that they were involved with otherworldly things. And that they were all probably insane.

"You should be thankful," Roman retorted. "We put our lives on the line every single day to make sure Rogues don't overstep their boundaries and butcher half the city."

I grounded loudly, dropping my head in my hands. "Oh, great. Yet another supernatural creature is introduced. What is a Rogue?"

"A Rogue is what we call someone - or something - that breaks the Law," Roman said. "Like that vampire who attacked you and killed that girl. Like Mitcham."

"Okay, who exactly is this Mitcham person?" I demanded. Now I was just annoyed, more than I had been when this whole thing first started. "I've heard nothing but terrible things about him, but I have no idea who he is."

"Stanislaus Yefremova. Born sometime in the 1800's, in Russia," Roman said, scowling again. "He was a Bolshevik. Apparently his captain was a vampire and changed a number of his men who he thought showed the potential to be great warriors. Mitcham was one of them. They were on the rise during the revolution, wanting to take down the Romanovs and essentially wipe out all of humanity in Russia to create an empire of only vampires, what they thought were the perfect race."

I shuddered at the thought of a country made up of entirely vampires. It was a frightening thought to wonder what the world would be like if Adolf Hitler had been a vampire.

"And they probably would have succeeded, too, but Mitcham messed up," Roman said, dark humor in his voice. "Somehow it let slip to the other side that no weapon they owned would work against them and that they could only be defeated by fire. More than half their ranks were wiped out because massive fires set during the summer. His captain was furious when they lost everything."

"But the Bolsheviks were pretty brutal," I pointed out quickly. "And these ones were vampires, weren't they?"

"Right," Roman said with a nod. "Your point?"

"Well, don't you think they would have, I don't know...killed him for that or something?" I said. "It makes sense, if you think about it."

Roman barked out a laugh. "Vampires don't always work that way, Holly. They're inhuman."

"So...So what happened to him?" I asked hesitantly.

"They murdered his wife and daughter right in front of him," Roman said simply. "And Mitcham went mad. Set fires on his own that wiped out the rest of his company and then fled to America. But, well...let's just say that the rules and regulations set by the Gloam didn't exactly agree with him."

I'd heard Sinclair mention the Gloam before, but I had no idea what it was. It must have been pretty important if they set rules and regulations.

"The Gloam are what we call the supernatural," Roman said, noticing my baffled expression. "They're pretty much the worst monarchy ever created, but I have to give them credit. Their Law is pretty much soundproof, and they pass judgment swiftly."

"And what rules do they have that Mitcham doesn't like?"

I wanted to deny it, but my curiosity was piqued. Nothing of what Roman was telling me was like anything I had ever heard before. Who knew vampires and werewolves and witches were so...sophisticated?

"For one, vampires are banned from hunting in the city," Roman said. "The outbreak of cholera in the city in 1832 was actually caused by excess hunting, and the way a vampire hunts is not pretty."

I didn't doubt that, if their appearances were anything to go by.

"Most vampires drain their victims until they die from blood loss. The Law claims that's the most humane way to do it. But before the ban, a whole lot of them liked to poison their victims. If a vampire's venom is left to spread, the person becomes extremely ill and eventually dies from the side affects."

"I don't understand," I said slowly. "I thought if a vampire bit someone, they turned into a vampire themselves?"

Roman shook his head, smiling grimly. "No. The person has to be drained of their blood, then fed blood from the vampire that bit them."

"So that rumor is actually true."

"Unfortunately. Needless to say, Mitcham wasn't a fan of that restriction. In the 1940's he banded together groups of his kind and any others that were feeling repressed by the Gloam and they went on a killing spree. Wiped out a good 10,000 in the city alone."

My mouth dropped open in amazement. I had never heard of mass murders in New York during the 40's.

"You're kidding, right? That couldn't have gone unnoticed, thousands of people being murdered in the streets."

"Oh, it didn't," Roman assured me. "That was why it caused such a problem. They had to bring in witches and wizards and just about every magical being to cast spells and wards and erase minds. A manhunt began for Mitcham once everything was finally contained. He faded off the map for so long the Gloam stopped continuously looking for him. Of course there's still a price on his head; I don't think the Gloam will rest until his head is on a stake."

I sat back in my chair, blowing out a huff of air.

My mind was positively swarming with the information I had just been told. If I were to actually believe it all, that meant Stan Mitcham, formally Stanislaus Yefremova, had been responsible for the deaths of thousands of people and was a blood thirsty killer.

My skin was crawling, remembering the expression that had been on Mitcham's face when he had approached me in the library a few weeks ago. He did not look like a man who was used to being denied anything he wanted.

A sickening thought occured to me then.

"And what..." I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. "What does Mitcham want with me?"

Roman ran his fingers through his dark hair, shaking his head. The look on his face was unsettingly somber. "We don't know."

I felt my eyes burn with tears for the second time that night. Of course they didn't know what Mitcham wanted with me.

"Holly."

I stopped distractedly picking at my nails and looked up at Roman.

Don't cry, don't cry, whatever you do, do not cry.

"What?"

"Nothing is going to happen to you. I'll personally see to it that no one hurts you. Ever."

I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment from the intense look in his eyes and the seriousness of his tone. He was not kidding. It was reassuring, after the events of today.

"Thank you," I said uneasily. "Um...that means...a lot."

Roman nodded, but said nothing.

"But there's something I don't understand," I added before I could stop myself.

"What don't you understand?" Roman said, frowning.

"How was telling me all of this breaking the law?" I asked. "I don't remember ever learning about a law that prevents people from speaking in my government class."

"This isn't about our law," Roman said with another short laugh. "This is about Gloam Law. Mitcham is a taboo subject, and even though we're both Immunes, I could be executed for telling you this. Gloam Law is strictly need-to-know."

I felt my heart constrict in my chest. When was this whole thing going to end?

"The vampire that killed that girl and attacked you is going to be put on trial," Roman said in a low voice, leaning across the table towards me. He looked as if he were afraid of being overheard. "Unfortunately, we also have to work around human's laws, as well. Cressida Maxwell is an attorney for the High Court of the Gloam. Her job will be to get this man to walk."

"Walk? I don't - "

"You're going to be put on the stand as a witness for the prosecution, and Cressida is going to interrogate you. And she's probably going to make you cry. She'll say things like you couldn't possibly know who attacked you because it was so dark and that you shouldn't have been out that late at night in the first place, and that you were probably drunk from some party you went to because you're in college."

"But I wasn't drunk, I - "

"Holly, I know that, but that's what Cressida is going to say anyways. She has to make sure the man is cleared so he