Myst's green eyes flashed with anger. She still called other vampires leeches and didn't care if her sisters did, but, as she'd said to Nikolai, "It's a double insult to call you one. If you're a leech and you like to drink from me, what does that make me? A schmuck? A suckah? Do I look like a host to you?"

Myst leaned back on Jeff Probst and drew a knee up. "You'll help us because I'm asking you to and you owe me for keeping a juicy secret from the coven."

Nïx made a scoffing sound as she ripped her sharp claws through the voodoo book. "What secret?" She yanked up another tome—The Crutch of Modern Mysticism—flexed her claws, then seemed to think better of completely mauling it, instead ripping out several pages, one with the chapter heading "Why It's Easier to Believe."

"Remember the year 1197?" Myst asked.

"B.C. or A.D.?" Nïx said in a bored tone as she began an intricate creasing of a book page. Origami? A form started to emerge.

"You know I'm only circa A.D."

"A.D. 1197?" Nïx murmured with a frown, then her face colored. Her expression turned mulish, and her fingers began flying over the paper, deftly folding. "Not sporting to bring that up. And one more time—I thought he and all of his pack mates were of age!" When her fingers stilled, she placed the perfect form on her bedside table. It resembled a dragon poised to attack. "Do I bring up your unpleasantries? Do I call you Mysty the Vampire Layer like the rest of the Lore does? Like the nymphs do?"

Myst clasped her hands to her chest. "Oh, woe, the nymphs have shunned me. I weep bitter tears." Her face hardened in an instant. "What information do you need from us to help you see something?"

With a huffish flip of her heavy braid, Nïx turned from Myst to Nikolai and asked, "Why do you want to find them?" She started another origami without looking, this one requiring four pages from the Crutch book.