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
"YOU ALWAYS RUIN EVERYTHING," I snap, glaring at him. "I've seen you for what you truly are – a monster. I can't forget how you sank your fangs into Chloe's neck, sucking the life out of her like she was some worthless doll. I remember when you tricked me into that dark cave after taking the lives of those poor girls in my living room and lied to my face. You even enjoyed it when I attacked that innocent driver when we first met." My chest rises and falls as my anger spills out. "You tried to suck me into your twisted world, to make me play your sick games. If that doesn't make you a monster, I don't know what does." His voice comes out in a hushed whisper. "That was before we met. Things are different now. I have a purpose, a responsibility to fulfill, and a master to serve for eternity. I've changed, and I won't risk my shot at freedom for anything." "That's nonsense," I mutter, locking eyes with him. "If you don't believe me, then just make me tell the truth. Will me," he insis
SO, HERE I AM, STANDING IN FRONT of this massive bar door, just minding my own business. I give it a push, and whoa – the stench of spilled booze sucker punches my nostrils. My boots click against the hardwood floor as I step inside and breathe in the bar's atmosphere. Everyone's laughing, chatting, and having a good time. To me, though, it’s like I’m underwater or something because I’ve got a lot on my mind. I’m a mess of emotions, like a whirlwind of leaves, and I feel trapped, like a fish caught on a hook. Tomorrow night, there’ll be a full moon, all big and bright in the sky. It's going to be gorgeous – but I won’t be outside enjoying it. Nope, I’ll be stuck in some dark, damp cave because of what I am. I take a seat on one of the high stools at the counter, people around me enjoying their drinks and conversations. I slap a dollar bill on the sleek surface, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. "Whiskey, please." The bartender, a petite woman with short, spiky purple ha
THERE I AM, STANDING AND swaying like a palm tree in the middle of a hurricane. I can't help but think, "What in the world is happening nowadays?" I mean, I was sure I had this guy under my mind-control to leave me alone, but I guess not. Could it be because I've been downing animal blood instead of human? It seems like my mind-control abilities are fading fast. First, it was Chloe—though maybe it was Casper who broke the mind compulsion on her—and now this kid? So now any random teenager can resist my mind-control? It's becoming a joke! All of a sudden, one of the customers speaks up, "Hey, what gives you the nerve to bother our friend here?" The boy lets go of my collar, and the angry customer jumps down from his stool, positioning himself between us like a bouncer ready for action. Now, the kid who'd grabbed me is face to face with a burly guy, his grey shirt unbuttoned, revealing a tangled mass of grey and white chest hair. The man's nostrils flare like a raging bull, and I can't
The front door creaks open as I slip into the dark living room. My eyes take a moment to adjust to the dim light, but there he is—Casper, sprawled out on the couch, his legs crossed like a pretzel. The flickering light from the muted TV paints eerie shadows across his face. I tiptoe past him, quiet as a mouse, but it's no use—this guy's got ears like a bat. "Didn't expect you back," he says, his voice casual as ever. I roll my eyes, my brow furrowing as I try to keep my voice low and my sarcasm high. "Maybe your brain's cogs are a little rusty. You did invite me back, remember?" He smirks, all smugness and confidence. "My cogs are fine, thanks for asking. But I do remember saying to come back early, not in the dead of night." I pout, lying through my teeth, as I try to come up with a good excuse. "I got lost, okay? It's not my fault." Casper just shrugs, like he couldn't care less. "Fine, whatever. But come take a look at this." He beckons me over, and curiosity gets the better of
HERE I AM, SITTING ON THE EDGE OF Chloe's bed, holding her soft hand in mine. My thumb is moving in small, soothing circles on her smooth skin. Her chest rises and falls, almost like gentle waves on a tranquil shore, and I can just barely hear the faintest whisper of breath as it escapes her slightly parted lips. Even in sleep, her face bears a hint of sadness, a look that reminds me of a sorrowful princess from a storybook. Honestly, I feel like the bad guy in her story. The one who caused trouble and left destruction in his wake. Without warning, her eyelids begin to flutter, and a rush of panic surges through me, hitting me with the force of a shot of espresso. "Please, don't wake up," I beg silently, my muscles tensing up like an overstretched rubber band. I'm perched right by her bedside, face way too close to hers for comfort, especially considering what I did to her. The sight of my bite mark standing out on her skin like an ugly billboard screaming "GUILTY!" has me sweating
A NURSE STRIDES INTO THE ROOM, and I instantly feel some of the tension leaving my body. She's got this fiery red hair that's pulled back in a no-nonsense bun and a smile that could make even the grumpiest person crack a grin. Her white uniform crinkles as she moves, and there's this clean, sharp smell of disinfectant that seems to follow her around. As she starts getting to work on Chloe, poking and prodding her with injections, I have to turn away. I mean, the last thing I need right now is to get a glimpse of blood and have my inner vampire go crazy like a teenager at their first big concert. No, thank you! After the nurse sets up the IV drip, she gives us a quick nod and heads out of the room, her shoes making little squeaking on the linoleum floor, like a choir of excited mice. Just as the door closes, it reopens, and Winter and Scarlett burst in, their faces lit up with excitement. "Angel Gabriel!" they exclaim in unison, and I can't help but smile. Scarlett wraps me in a qu
~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