Chapter 9 - The Blood Moon’s Omen

Brandon’s POV

I stood in front of the large window, where Walda had conjured the enchanted pond.

The two swans, Edmund and Rodalind one black, one white glided across the turqouise water as if they had no worries in the world.

From here, I had a perfect view of Berlin.

The city stretched before me, glowing with yellow and warm lights that tried, at least, to chase away the gloom of the night. The Giraffe Complex, apartment number 13 on the 13th floor—what a place to watch over it all.

The grand TV Tower stood in the distance, sleek and modern.

Beyond it, the Brandenburg Gate stood proud, its quadriga—a chariot drawn by four horses looming atop, an old relic from the world war.

Even the Reichstag building, with its curved glass dome, faintly shimmered beneath the haze.

Not that I could see the stars.

Smog and city lights swallowed them whole.

Sometimes, I wished I were back in the countryside, chasing other wolves, rolling in the grass without a care.

I sighed.

Maybe I was still too immature and still clinging to the past that was no more.

Then, walda interrupted my wandering thoughts.

“So, pups and Alpha Brandon, now it’s your turn.”

I glanced over at Wanda, the old witch from the Berliner Dome.

She was about to get serious again— I could see it in her eyes.

She had that wild look again.

Tonight had been… a lot.

She’d made a magic pond, made a bird lay a golden egg, and some bizarre light show from this pony-boy named Alaric. Saved Beatrice from death’s door…

…And then, I’d been forced to furnish this damn apartment. Not that I minded too much, but still what a night.

“I’m about to get what?” I asked, hesitant. I really didn’t want to know.

“Your reading, of course. The tea party isn’t over!”

I laughed dryly. “Alright then. Should I give you my hands or something?”

“Yes, exactly,” Walda said, taking my rough hand in hers. Her skin was both wrinkled and smooth, like my grandmother’s used to be. I felt a sting in my heart, I truly missed her.

Then the room suddenly felt colder, the air heavier.

I swallowed hard, a shiver crawling up my spine of what was about to come out of her mouth.

Walda’s eyes turned white—spooky as hell. In her low, otherworldly voice, she began:

”Blood and fangs must clash in war, A cursed stone must be retrieved. Should the nobles rise and seize their claim, The wolves shall fall to dust and flame. If bloodstone fails, the dark will rise, Shadows devour, and hope soon dies. Betrayal waits with cunning art, Be wary whom you trust at heart. When lust is torn and fate is pressed, The heart must choose as per the blood moon’s behest.

She suddenly released my hand and smiled widely, her warmth was kind of comforting before the storm, not going to lie. “Was it to your liking? Your destiny? I’m really good at fortune-telling.” Walda eagerly wondered.

I swallowed hard, a lump in my throat. “Yeah, yeah, thanks a lot, Walda. It was first class,” I muttered, trying to brush it off, even though balancing my personal life and leading the pack was already more than enough to handle.

I knew war was coming—I’d felt it for weeks.

The vampire attacks weren’t random; they were planned. Now, I finally had answers. Everything wasn’t crystal clear, but I knew it would all fall into place, as it always did.

I’d seen my father and grandfather turn to Walda for advice countless times. Whenever a prophecy arose, it always came true, one way or another. It was just a matter of when and how.

Amanda’s POV

I saw that old hag— I mean, witch. Sorry, Walda, I corrected myself, gulped down hard. What if the rumors were true?

What if she really could read minds and hear thoughts? I didn’t want to insult her and end up as a frog or something.

Then I saw it again—Brandon’s lingering gaze upon Beatrice.

It unsettled me, twisting something deep inside.

Lucky for me, I had my sister, Linda.

Only she could help me now.

I busied myself with other things, scribbling notes about potential more decorations and plants, anything to avoid drawing Walda’s attention.

I didn’t want a reading. Knowing one’s fate wasn’t something I cared for, I wanted to walk my own path in unknowing bliss.

Guess I wasn’t about to be so lucky after all.

My hair stood on end as Walda called my name.

“Amanda!”

I shivered.

“Yes, Walda?” I stalled for time. She knew it. I knew it. Shit, I hoped Brandon didn’t notice. I wasn’t a coward—I just didn’t like magic.

“Give me your hands, sweetheart,” Walda said, nodding toward me. She looked like a sweet old granny, if not for the fact that she could be so otherworldly and all that crap.

I held my breath as I placed my hands in hers. A strange warmth surged through them as her eyes whitened once again, and her voice boomed through the apartment:

“To seek the moon, aim for the heart, A lover’s arrow must not depart. As enemies burn, yet embers remain, Friendship may rise from ashes of pain. A bond so strong, it may shake the land, But fate is yours to shape by hand.”

I still closed my eyes and exhaled slowly.

“See? Not that bad, huh?” Walda said with a smile, patting me on the back. I nearly coughed from embarrassment.

“Thanks, Walda. I’ll remember this. It was a… good reading. Super… great… ehm.”

“I’m amazing,” she said with a wink, laughing. Somehow, that made me relax, letting me shake off the seriousness a little easier.

“Now, I have to stay here with Beatrice. Make up the couch for me, will you?” She gave me a pointed look.

“Sure, no problem. I’ve got spare sheets and stuff. Marc also has a bed back at the boutique—Mondwächter Urban Timber. We can go together. I know Marc finished some new custom pieces this week. Brandon, do you want to come too?” I asked eagerly, batting my lashes at him, hoping for a yes.

“Sure. I need some air anyway. Marc, you’re driving,” he barked.

We all headed out the door, and my heart skipped a beat at the thought of sitting closer to Brandon.