CHLOE WAS STRETCHED OUT ON THE HOSPITAL bed, staring at her phone like it was her ticket to a candy paradise. She was hooked on Candy Crush, with the bright colors and shapes practically exploding right in front of her face. Meanwhile, Scarlett was chilling in a chair, scrolling away on her phone and diving deep into the wild world of social media. As Scarlett checked out her newsfeed, a whole lot of birthday love was being sent to Jaja, who was pretty much the social queen at school. There were tons of pictures from Jaja's awesome birthday bash, showing all the fun and laughs going on far away from their super quiet hospital room. Scarlett and I took in every single photo, practically tasting the excitement and feeling the good vibes. It was almost like we could hear the laughter, feel the warm hugs, and smell the yummy birthday cake — we felt like we were right there with Jaja and her friends. But no, here we were, stuck in the most boring place on Earth — a hospital room. As Sc
CHLOE'S LAUGHTER RANG OUT LIKE A BELL. “Werewolf and Vampire hunters? You've got to be kidding me! Are you guys pranksters or something?” Kent's brow furrowed, his voice dropping an octave. “We're not here for laughs, girl. We're all business.” Ben, standing tall and stoic beside him, offered a firm nod of agreement. Chloe shrugged, her amusement waning like a birthday balloon with a slow leak. Kent leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a mix of urgency and curiosity. “Haven't you heard? People have been dying under suspicious circumstances – bites on their necks and not a single survivor… except for you.” Chloe's face paled, her lower lip quivering like a sapling in a storm. “I-I'm not sure what happened…” she stammered, shaking her head in confusion. With a compassion that belied his no-nonsense demeanor, Kent softened his tone. “For your safety, and the safety of Shadowvale, we need you to tell us who – or what – bit you.” His gaze locked onto Chloe's, unwavering and int
AS CHLOE, SCARLETT AND I SHUFFLED TOWARD Chloe's uncle's car, I leaned in and whispered, “Hey, what was all that about?” Chloe scrunched her face up like a crumpled paper bag. “Huh?” she said, rolling her eyes like a slot machine. “You know exactly what I mean,” I hissed through gritted teeth. Chloe, Scarlett, and I piled into the back seat of Uncle Mike's car, while Emilia whined her way to the front seat like a siren in a traffic jam. Finally, Uncle Mike's wife joined him in the front, and the car growled to life like a hungry bear waking from hibernation. I leaned in close to Chloe, dropping my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Alright, spill the beans. Why did you tell those men that your brother is a vampire?” Chloe and Scarlett shot me the kind of look you'd give someone who just claimed they could talk to houseplants. “I don't know what you're going on about,” Chloe replied, her voice dripping with confusion like honey from a beehive. “Why would I say that? That's just…
"I AM SORRY, FIONA, I DIDN'T MEAN TO leave you behind.” My heart pounded in my chest, mirroring the tapping of her impatient foot. Her face crumpled like a discarded tissue, skepticism written all over it. “Oh, really? So, what happened that made you leave?” Her words sliced through the air, sharp and icy. Panic surged within me, my brain kicking into overdrive, desperately searching for a plausible fib. “Huh… something came up, and I had to leave,” I stammered. Her eyebrow arched like a questioning caterpillar. “Huh… something like what…?” My inner alarm blared, and I knew I needed another lie – fast! “Huh… I should get you something to drink,” I blurted, scurrying off to the kitchen. Operation: Lie Creation was underway, and I needed a moment to brainstorm. I yanked open the freezer door, revealing a cornucopia of gastronomic delights. Thanks to Vivaldi's mind control, my freezer overflowed with all sorts of scrumptious treats. Icy air tickled my face as I grabbed whatever I
I’M STANDING ON THE DOORSTEP, hesitating. The doorbell tempts me, but I’m not sure if ringing it is such a good idea. Just then, the door swings open, revealing Chloe. Her face lights up when she sees me, and I’m instantly swept into a warm, cozy bear hug. She takes my hand and leads me inside, and I feel as jittery as a kid on their first day at school. Inside, Winter catches my eye. Her expression is tense, like she’s just swallowed something incredibly sour. She bites her nails nervously; clearly, she isn’t ready for any more drama. I wave at her with a small, reassuring gesture to let her know I mean no harm. In return, Winter gives me a weak half-hearted wave, maybe just out of politeness. I sit down on the couch, and Chloe immediately fires off the question, "Where on earth have you been?" Chloe's question hangs in the air, and I let out a sigh before answering, "After coming back to Shadowvale, the guilt trip down memory lane and everything that's happened to you has been
I'M HUNCHED OVER, SUCKING IN AIR as blood dribbles down my chin. Wincing, I yank out the arrows lodged in my chest one by one, the pain making me hiss through my teeth. I rise to my feet with a grunt and lift my shirt, watching in morbid fascination as my wounds close up like some sick magic trick. Winter's breath hitches, her hands clapping over her mouth as if to trap her gasp inside. "How did you—?" she stammers, her voice barely a whisper. "How...?" I chew on the inside of my cheek, at a loss for words. I'll just have to tweak her memory later. For now, I turn my attention to the Hunters or WVH, as Winter calls them. They advance with unhurried steps, dressed to kill—literally. Their sleek, charcoal gray outfits hug their muscular bodies like a second skin, while dark grey armor plates enhance their silhouette, covering all the important bits like chest, back, shoulders, forearms, and shins. Their utility belts, laden with pouches and holsters, hold an array of weapons and tools
THE SCREAM RIPS THROUGH THE AIR like a sonic boom, a hurricane of force that slams into me with the power of a freight train. I'm sent flying, tumbling through the air like a leaf in a storm. It's a wonder my skin doesn't peel right off my bones. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the stake-wielding Hunter get knocked off his feet, his weapon skittering across the ground. Wand Guy—let's just call him Wandman—is quicker on the uptake, throwing up a magical shield around himself just in time. His face contorts with effort as he channels his energy into maintaining the barrier, teeth gritted in concentration. As Winter's scream fades, the magical bonds holding me captive disappear, and I hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud. My body feels like it's been put through a meat grinder, and my wounds stubbornly refuse to heal. Guess there's a limit to my supernatural healing abilities, after all. Wandman's shield flickers and dissipates, and he drops to his knees, exhausted from the ef
AS THE STAKE PLUNGES DOWN, the sound of ripping flesh echoes through the night, making my stomach churn. I freeze, my breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. Mr. Aura's eyes widen in surprise, mirroring my own shock. Then, without warning, Mr. Aura crumples to the ground with a heavy thud. Standing behind him, his hand slick with blood, is none other than Casper. His eyes are wide as saucers, fixed on the still-beating heart in his hand. "I killed him," he mutters, his voice trembling with shock. But our moment of victory is short-lived, as Casper lets out a blood-curdling scream. A bullet rips through the air, tearing into his flesh. He grits his teeth, his face contorting in pain as he scoops me up and throws me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Before he can speed off, I use the last ounce of my strength to utter a single word: "Wait." Casper pauses, his body tense and ready to bolt. "Winter," I manage to croak out. "She's in the truck
~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