THINGS GET TENSE AS VIVALDI narrates his life story. His words feel like a huge rock thrown into a quiet pond, creating waves through the cave. I take a moment to breathe, my thoughts spinning like being in the middle of a busy shopping street. My heart skips a beat when Vivaldi says a name that means a lot to me – Cassius. The name feels like a warm hug or a tight rope around me, I can't decide. Memories flood in, bringing a strange taste to my mouth, both sweet and sour. Cassius wasn't just any ordinary guy; he was the one who turned me into a vampire. He did it because he cared, or maybe he was scared. He wanted to protect me, and the power of the first blood from dangerous vampires like Vivaldi who wanted to control me with a powerful promise called a blood pact. In his desperation, Cassius locked me up in my old mansion. With the help of a witch, he used strong magic to enspell the doorways and windows so that only a kin of the witch could see through the magic and save me.
A GENTLE KNOCKING ON THE DOOR broke through the evening silence, sounding like a woodpecker tapping on a tree. Chloe, intrigued, gracefully got up from her seat and walked towards the door. As she wrapped her hand around the cool doorknob and opened the door, she was met with a surprise that made her eyes widen in disbelief. “Oh my gosh, Angel! Is that really you?” she exclaims with excitement and a hint of disbelief. He smiles back at her, all warm and friendly. “Come on in,” she says joyfully. Angel hesitates, eyes locked on the doorway, looking a little unsure. It's like he's expecting something to stop him from going in. But he takes a deep breath, musters his courage, and steps in. When nothing happens, a wave of relief washes over him. They hug, and as they touch, Angel's mouth waters, an instinctive reaction he has no control over. As his eyes fall on Chloe's soft, vulnerable neck, an intense hunger surges through him, like a switch has been flipped. He had to use every ounce
I'M AT THE FIELD IN MY COOL tracksuit, observing the lively scene. The atmosphere is energetic, and everyone's buzzing with excitement. Shoes squeak and make noises as my classmates move around, and the smell of sweat is in the air because everyone is working hard. All of a sudden, kids zoom past me like quick flashes of color. The coach blows the whistle loudly, signaling the start of the race. The runners give their best effort, their faces showing just how focused and determined they are to win. They're putting all their energy into the race! All of a sudden, one runner pulls ahead of the rest, running really fast like a cheetah chasing its prey. It's Kylian, the mean guy who caused trouble for Scarlett and Winter at the cafe. He crosses the finish line first and shouts in victory, holding his fist high in the air as people around him cheer. I refuse to join in, because Kylian might be a fast runner, but he's still a bully and I don't want to support that. As if that wasn't enoug
SCARLETT TOOK A SIP OF HER JUICE before she continued, “I wasn't actually there, but Winter sent me some pictures she took while Chloe was getting her wound cleaned.” Scarlett grabbed her phone off the table, saying, “Maybe I should show you.” But I quickly stopped her, letting her know that blood makes me queasy. She nodded, completely understanding my reaction. With concern in my voice, I asked, “Is Chloe doing any better?” Scarlett seemed to deflate a bit, like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. “I don't know if I can really say that,” she confessed, looking down at her juice. “Winter told me that Chloe's blood levels were way too low. Dangerously low, Casper. It was really bad—so bad that she needed a blood transfusion.” Scarlett let out a sigh, her sadness clearly visible. “I feel terrible that I haven't been to see her yet. My mom wants me to visit after school today.” As Scarlett shared the details, I couldn't help but feel uneasy—like someone, or som
I WALK INTO MY HOUSE, THE DOOR clicking shut behind me as I let my backpack drop onto the couch with a soft thud. My mind's a jumbled mess, and all I can think about is Chloe and what she's going through. I head straight for the kitchen, pulling open the fridge to grab a bottle of tangy animal blood. The cool liquid is just what I need right now. Vivaldi's revelation about being a werewolf is still fresh in my mind, and he had promise to stay indoors 'til the next full moon when he'll go full werewolf. He'd figured it would be better not to be around people, just in case something goes wrong and triggers him to ruin his chance of getting his blood contract. He's scared he'll lose control and give in to his bloodlust. I sigh, and unscrew the cap from the bottle, and take a swig of the crimson drink. It's cool and sweet, but it doesn't take away the weight of my thoughts. As I stand there, my mind's racing a million miles a minute. Could Vivaldi be the one who attacked Chloe? Even tho
VIVALDI NARROWS HIS EYES AT ME, his brow wrinkling like a caterpillar caught in the rain. "You're making it sound like Chloe's in some sort of trouble or something," he mutters. A hint of concern colors his voice, but it quickly turns dismissive. "I mean, I'm not particularly fond of her, but for the sake of my freedom, I'm happy to play along and keep her safe." I fix a reassuring smile on my face, letting my lips curl up to hide any trace of doubt. "No need to worry; she's fine," I tell him, injecting a casual laugh into my words. Teasingly, I prod Vivaldi, “I'm just checking to see if that cold, undead heart of yours is capable of any shred of compassion. Do you actually have feelings for Chloe, or are you just toying around with her?" Vivaldi scoffs, rolling his eyes at me. "Nah, man. I couldn’t care less about Chloe; I'm just doing what I'm told, playing the obedient little soldier for my master." "Uh-huh, sure," I retort, a smirk playing on my lips. There’s an odd sincerity
GABRIEL'S RELAXING IN HIS SMALL apartment when, unexpectedly, his phone rings loudly, like a blaring alarm. It buzzes and hums so hard that it makes the countertop vibrate like a bee's wings. Gabriel quickly focuses on the phone, and his hand swiftly grabs it with a gentle touch. He swipes his thumb across the screen, and his heart sinks like a heavy rock. It's a voice message, from Winter, one of his sister Chloe's closest friends. Winter's words hit Gabriel hard as he taps the play icon: "Gabriel," she says sadly, "I'm really sorry to tell you this, but Chloe's in the hospital, hurt badly. She has a serious injury on her neck, but she's strong, and she's going to be okay. Still, it's a tough situation. The doctors say she's fortunate, but it's really important for her to have support right now. She needs you, Gabriel. I know you've been away, but she's been asking for her big brother." Gabriel imagines Chloe lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by machines and tubes. He sees her fa
NOAH'S HEART SKIPS A BEAT AS angel falls to the ground. He races to Samantha, his breath quickening as he sees her lifeless and pale. Tears roll down his face, their warmth clashing with the icy fear that fills his chest. Gently, he picks her up, her blood seeping through his clothes as he holds her close to his chest. His sorrowful cries blend with the soft wind that blows through the trees. Kneeling there in the dark with his crushing grief, a shadow creeps over him, sending a shiver down his spine. Noah's instincts take over, and he spins around, his gun ready to fire at whatever's lurking in the shadows. In a blur of speed, Angel lunges at Noah, his fangs gleaming under the moonlight. Noah's gun flashes in the dark as he fires at Angel, who moves with a terrifying and effortless grace. Despite Noah's relentless attempts, Angel sinks his fangs deep into his neck, holding on with an unbreakable grip. As the last bullet leaves his gun with a mocking click, Noah's panic rises as he
~Casper's POV~“CASTOR, FOR CHRIST SAKE, don't listen to this him,” Scarlett begs, her voice laced with desperation, but Castor just rolls his eyes at her pleas. He fixes his steely gaze on me, and time slows down as he begins folding his sleeves up like a boss. After he's done, he cracks his knuckles, the sound echoing through the air like a challenge. “I dare you to repeat what you said, you punk,” he sneers.I feel Chloe's grasp on my hand, her eyes telling me to ignore the temptation, to not take the bait. Scarlett tries to move towards me, but Castor pulls her to himself, manhandling her like a rag doll. I grit my teeth at the sight, my anger boiling over.So, this is what Scarlett goes through with this guy? Well, my presence is about to change that. Scarlett and Winter aren't just friends; they're the closest thing I have to family. After a century of being alone, they're the ones who make me feel human again. They saved me when I was at my lowest, and now it's my turn to retur
~Casper's POV~I'M SITTING HERE, PRETENDING TO BE OBLIVIOUS, nodding along like a bobblehead, and forcing out silly fake laughs. Meanwhile, my mind is a jumbled mess of emotions, a war zone of worries, and a circus of crazy thoughts.Scarlett and Chloe are yapping away, completely clueless about the turmoil brewing inside me. They're discussing the “super cops” – aka WVH – and the destructive windstorm that ripped through town like a bad haircut. I'm showing sympathy, making supportive noises, and sipping my tea, all while my brain is preoccupied with Winter. Those piercing blue eyes of hers have me twisted in knots – the fear that flickers in her eyes whenever she looks at me. It's like a punch to the gut, and a slap in the face all rolled into one.Will she ever look at me the same way again? Or will she expose me to Scarlett, ruining the one friendship that's kept me sane since my release from the mansion? The thought alone is enough to drive me crazy, to push me over the edge, and
I'M SITTING IN MY DESK, HALFWAY through a physics lesson, when I feel a light tap on my shoulder. I twist around to see a beautiful girl, her features as delicate as a porcelain doll's. She's got captivating emerald eyes, framed by impossibly long, dark lashes, and a button nose that suits her heart-shaped face perfectly. Her golden locks cascade over her shoulders like a silken waterfall. Her soft pink lips part slightly as she leans in, a hint of rose-scented perfume teasing my senses. In a hushed, musical voice, she whispers, "I'm sorry to disturb you, but your girlfriend wanted me to give you this note." Her voice is so low I have to strain to catch every word, but her crystal-clear tone reminds me of a tinkling bell. My brows crease in confusion at the mention of a girlfriend. As far as I know, I don't have one! But I set aside that mystery for now and nod a silent thanks to the girl, turning my attention back to the droning teacher. Her slender fingers brush mine, soft as v
WHEN I AWOKE, AN EERIE SILENCE filled the room. I cautiously surveyed my surroundings, taking in the horrific scene before me. Agatha's lifeless body sprawled across the floor, and DeAndre lay nearby, his heart torn from his chest. Ignoring the grotesque dead vampires and Werewolves, I rushed to the ornate window where Cassius would often gaze out. My heart sank as I took in the sight of hundreds of lifeless bodies scattered across the grounds. Tears stung my eyes, and I fell to my knees, sobbing at the realization that my master lay among them. "No!" I cried, unwilling to accept the truth before me. Desperate for a closer look, I bolted for the front door, only to find myself teleported back to the living room. Confused and distraught, I tried every possible exit—doors, windows, any opening I could find—but each attempt only brought me back to the same spot. Defeated and devastated, I slumped to the floor, my cries echoing through the mansion. Suddenly, a cold hand grasped my l
"YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOU KNEW caspian and Dante, like, in the flesh?" Vivaldi's voice trembles with disbelief. "Yes, I knew them like the back of my hand," I confirm, watching his reaction carefully. "Oh my god!" Vivaldi exclaims, ruffling his hair frantically as if trying to rid himself of an infestation. His laughter rings with a manic edge, and before I can process his erratic behavior, he backhands me across the face. The force of the blow nearly knocks me off my stool, and I growl through clenched teeth, my pain and anger burning in my eyes. "I'm sorry," he apologizes hastily, seeing the rage in my expression. "But where the hell have you been my whole fucking life? All this time, everyone kept telling me that Caspian died without passing on the power of the First Blood. But my desperation for a cure made me hold onto hope, even when there seemed to be none." Vivaldi's eyes bore into mine, demanding answers. "No more secrets, right? So tell me, where did you go after Caspian's
IN THE BAR, GLASSES CLINK, AND echoes with lively chatter. Casper and I raise our glasses, toasting amidst the boisterous voices."How can I lift your spirit, Mr. Vivaldi?" Casper asks, eyes fixed on my troubled gaze. Tipping my scotch glass, I savor the smoky scent before downing it in one fiery gulp. The burn rushes down my throat as I set the glass back on the counter with a gentle clink.Casper follows suit, his face twisting in pain, gasping for air. Hand pressed against his chest, he tries to douse the flames within. I lean in, worry etched on my brow."You okay, man?" I ask, concern ringing in my voice.Raising a shaky hand to halt me, Caspers wheezes, "Do I look okay?" His voice strained from the effort.I shrug, humor sparkling in my gaze. "Casper, how can you not handle something so devilishly smooth?" I joke, eyeing the half-empty bottle's amber liquid.He gives me an incredulous look, chest heaving. "How do you drink that without your insides burning to a crisp?"I can't h
BARRINGTON TAKES A DEEP BREATH, his gaze fixed on the phone number displayed on the screen before dialing it. He fidgets with his pen, anxiety building as the line rings. When the call connects, he smiles as he hears the voice on the other end."Hello and good afternoon! Am I speaking with Mr. Flynt?""Yes, who is this and how may I help you?"Barrington clears his throat, trying to sound as official as possible. "Ahem... This is Barrington Jackson, calling from Shadowvale's police department.""Barrington, as in the chief of police?"Barrington can't help but puff up a bit with pride. "Yes, that's right.""Oh, wow! For real? Long time, man..."Barrington grins. "Yeah, it's been a while. How have you been?""I'm good, I'm good. And you? Still keeping the streets of Shadowvale safe, huh?"They chat for a while, catching up on old times. But Barrington knows he has a purpose for this call, so he eventually steers the conversation towards it."Listen, I hope you don't mind me asking, but
I’M SLOWLY WAKING UP, RUBBING the sleep from my eyes, when I notice a small, mysterious figure sitting on an armchair across from me. Their tiny legs are crossed, and they're holding this huge book that covers their entire face. I can’t make out their features, but I know exactly who it is.I manage to croak out, "What are you doing in my room?", my voice still heavy with sleep as I struggle to sit up.There’s a moment of silence, but then, BAM! The book snaps shut with a thunderous sound, revealing none other than Vivaldi. His bright, curious eyes peer out at me from behind these round, wire-rimmed glasses I've never seen him wearing before. His raven black hair is all ruffled, like he’d just rolled out of bed.With an excited pitch in his voice, Vivaldi exclaims, "You're awake, Snow Boy!" His enthusiasm is unmistakable, as he questions, "How was Dreamland?"All I can do in response is roll my eyes, not feeling up to dealing with Vivaldi's eccentricities.So, Vivaldi's expression tur
CHIEF OFFICER BARRINGTON STEPS into his father's home, his boots announcing his arrival with each squeak against the tiles. He finds Norman, his father, in his favorite armchair, a cup of Earl Grey tea steaming at his side.Norman raises his gaze, his eyes crinkling with warmth as a smile etches itself upon his weathered face. "Well, look who it is—my favorite son," he quips, rising from his chair with a soft groan.A chuckle escapes Barrington as he wraps his father in a warm embrace. "I'm your only son, Dad," he reminds him with a grin.Norman steps back, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "That's exactly why you're my favorite."The two men sit on the couch, and Norman asks the maid to bring an extra cup so they can share tea. Barrington thanks his father, takes a sip of the tea, and feels its warmth radiate through his chest as he relishes the comforting taste of home."Dad, you truly make the best tea in all of Shadowvale and beyond," Barrington compliments, his appreciation eviden