Mercy Hall
The man looming over her, offers his hand. As she takes it, she draws in his scent.
"W-who are you?" He doesn't smell right.
He's not human. So, what the hell is he?
"I am Grigori." He draws her to her feet. "You must be Mercy."
"How do you know my name?"
"I know many things." Grigori redirects his gaze. "For instance, you, Ambrose Drak, second of your name, resemble your grandfather, Zachariah."
Grigori releases Mercy and pulls Ambrose to his feet.
"News of your uncle's step into power has spread fast across the land. I feared the worst when he took the reins. Now, more than ever, I am overjoyed to witness the embers of his lies snuffed out by your presence."
"What does that mean?" She steps in front of Ambrose, blocking Grigori's direct path.
He sniffs the air then holds her gaze as the corners of his lips tug upward into a smile that brightens his eyes. He leans forward.