Valentina won’t meet you head-on,” he said. “Not unless she’s already eaten three steps of you and is chewing the fourth. She’ll meet you as a letter. A voice on someone else’s phone. A memory that answers before you ask the question. She’ll meet you in a mirror that swears your face has always looked a little like hers.” His mouth flattened. “And if she does meet you in a room? You won’t leave through the door you came by.”“I’m not helpless.” Heat crawled up my neck. “I trained for this life.”“You trained to finish names,” Lorkan said. “She had the power to erase us all.”The lights flikered. Somewhere in the wall a pipe ticked, cooling or heating, I couldn’t tell. My ribcage felt like it was being asked questions I didn’t have breath to answer“Your ancestors tried steel,” he said again, slower, making every word a rung for me to climb. “They failed. They tried prayer. They failed slower. They tried alliances with things just as dark, and that worked a little, until those things d
“They called her a phantom,” Lorkan went on. “Said she moved through alleys like a seam of darkness. Doors opened for her that weren’t there for others. She was patient then, hungrier, too. Less politics, more simple appetite. But not stupid. Never stupid.”My throat felt too small. “You knew them?”“I knew of them. Gunmen talk. Smiths listen.” He tipped his chin toward the folder. “By the time my great-grandfather crossed the ocean, she’d already worn three names and left two cities ash behind her. People blamed fires on bad wiring. Plagues on rats. Wars on kings who wanted bigger crowns. But she was always there, at the edges, feeding on chaos and teaching men to mistake it for order.”I gripped the edge of the sofa, every stitch along my side tugging like a flame picked up and dragged across skin. “Why didn’t they stop her?”“Because she is older than their courage,” he said simply. “And older than their fear.”“That’s not an answer.”“It’s the only one you’ve earned tonight,” he s
Dennise's Point of viewLorkan leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. “Last time I checked, she called herself Isabella Swan. Now, Valentina. But it doesn’t matter what name she wears. It’s the same face. The same woman. The last Bathory.”I shook my head violently. “No… No, that’s not-”“She never aged, Dennise,” he cut in, his tone sharp, final. “She’s been walking this earth for centuries. Bathory blood doesn’t die easy.”The name hit me like ice. Bathory.Whispers from the academy tugged at the edges of my memory, rumors about an ancient patron, a benefactor whose fortune built Cross, whose shadow lingered in every hall. I had dismissed them as stories.My voice cracked. “What… what is she?”For the first time, Lorkan hesitated. His hand rested on the folder, his thumb rubbing over the yellowed edges as though grounding himself. Then he leaned forward, his eyes dark.“Vampyer,” he said.The word chilled the air between us.Not vampire, not the softened fairytale n
Dennise's Point of ViewThere was a long silence between us. He hunched over the table, the silver bullet glinting under the lamp’s harsh glow, its tiny carvings too faint for the naked eye.He pulled out a magnifying glass, lowering it carefully. The etched emblem shimmered faintly, strange, archaic, something that didn’t belong in the world of men.“Do you believe in werewolves?” I asked quietly, my voice hoarse from both pain and fear.He froze, the magnifying glass hovering midair. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to me. His eyes studied my face as though weighing whether I was mocking him, or confessing something dangerous.“You mean the supernaturals?” he asked, his tone measured. Then, as if the question were nothing more than a whisper in passing, he lowered his gaze and returned to the bullet.“Call it like that,” I muttered. My throat was tight, but I forced the words out.His jaw flexed, and then, without looking up, he said, “Yes.”The simple words made my chest constrict.Lork
Dennise’s Point of viewPain, that was all I had felt on the journey. My body was screaming at me but I endured so much pain before, pushing myself to the limit. If I want to stop everything just by myself, I’ll do it myself.Hours blurred. The hum of the road. The sting of every bump against my ribs. By the time I reached the airport, I was pale, drenched in sweat, but I didn’t falter. The stewardess looked at me and asked me if I was okay but I nodded and smiled. “Yes. But can I have some pain reliever please?” I asked. “Yes, Ma’am. I’ll bring one for you.”As I settled on my first class seat as I waited for the medicine. When she returned, I gave her my thanks and drank it. I slept the entire time and when I woke up, I felt like a whole truck hit me. I grimaced and I contacted an Uber and took me home.The small town hadn’t changed. Rows of modest homes, cracked sidewalks, the faint sound of children’s laughter from down the street. This was my base home. I locked the door beh
Ace’s Point of ViewInside me, my wolf went silent for a moment. He was obviously not calm but waiting. Watching.And I knew this fight wasn’t over. It never would be. The fight inside me reached its peak, too loud, too violent to contain.My wolf snarled, my voice roared back, both of us clawing and snapping, neither yielding. My chest burned, my veins screamed, and then-The dam shattered.My body convulsed, the shift ripping through me in violent waves. My bones cracked, my skin tore, and fur exploded across my muscles. My vision changed into more vivid, and when I opened my eyes, we slammed the door out from the room.The beast was free.Black as midnight, my wolf slammed onto the stone floor, claws gouging deep scars into it. My chest rumbled with a growl that shook the walls, and the lamps along the corridor flickered, glass shattering from the force of my rage.I bolted.Doors splintered as I rammed past them, furniture crushed beneath my paws, men diving out of the way. Growls