I awoke to the sound of soft scratches. My groggy ass thought the rats were back. They had made an awful mess of the church when I bought it. Once a vampire moved in, however, they scurried off, sensing the threat. Not every animal is afraid of us; some actually prefer the company of the Forest Clan. But for us wolves, our very presence sets off every animal instinct alarm. It didn't take long for the rats to realise they had no home here. The soft scratches continued, and I listened a little longer before realising it was Elena. She was sketching, but not in her room—in the spare room. So, she had visited the veil. Intriguing.
I got up from my bed and brushed my wild waves away from my face. Thinking of Elena, memories of last night crept back. It had been a clusterfuck of emotions, and I had only made it worse. I had meant to comfort her, nothing more, but the moment I opened my arms, something in me had softened. I could still feel the weight of her against me, her head beneath my chin, the way I had held her for a second too long before she pulled away, as if she had realised it was turning into something else. It had been too easy to make her blush, too easy to make her heartbeat quicken, and I hated how much I wanted that. But attraction had never meant anything good where I was concerned. Elena could look at me all she liked, but it was only ever skin deep. I could not have her thinking I was acceptable as a mate. I had led her to her death. I had stupidly not wiped her mind, and she had run into Dusk the next day in hopes of what?
Be with me.
I scoffed out loud. If she knew how fucked up I was, she wouldn't even dare come within a foot of me. I walked into my ensuite bathroom and threw cold water on my face. Then I grabbed the towel and dabbed myself dry as I looked at myself in the mirror. Eyeliner still caked beneath my eyes, bringing out the purple I inherited from my father. Those eyes glared back at me with the same disappointed look he wore every time I was in his presence. Unless, of course, he wanted something from me, and he always did. My eyes were the only thing I inherited from him. The rest of me was my mother. This face—her beauty passed down to me—was a curse, one my father exploited for political gain.
No.
I couldn't start my day with those thoughts. I had responsibilities. I walked out of the bathroom and stood in front of my wardrobe. Ah yes, what shall we go with today: black, black, and more black. I looked down at my own T-shirt and sweatpants and decided to stick with that for now. Clothes could wait. I walked to the spare room and was about to knock when I noticed the sketching had stopped and heard that she was asleep. I shook my head. No way in hell was I waking her. From what I knew of the Blood Witch clan, exhaustion took over after a vision. Waking a witch was the last thing you did. I turned to the training room instead. Might as well get some practice in before I had to train Elena. I closed the door behind me and began my exercises.
When I came out, I skipped the spare room door and went straight to the kitchen to make coffee. I had no idea how she liked it, so I guessed milk and sugar, and she could enlighten me afterward. I checked the clock; it was around eleven-thirty in the morning. We needed to eat. I figured if I went in with coffee, it would be a decent peace offering for waking her.
I walked into the spare room and saw her behind the boxes. She was lying on her side, her back against the wall, wearing that grey nightgown. I stopped in my tracks. It had ridden up, displaying a rather delicious thigh. I tried to look away and noticed she also hadn't buttoned it all the way, and it was showing off a bit of cleavage too. Her red hair, now brighter, covered one of her eyes like a soft curtain. The freckles were visible in the morning light, scattering across her face and shoulders like stars. She was beautiful, and I, like an idiot, was standing there gawking at her as if she were the Madonna herself. I wanted to punch myself in the face. I finally looked away and saw her sketchbook open. Both pages had been used and, out of curiosity, I stole a glance and nearly dropped our coffee.
My gods, those eyes. I have never seen such haunting eyes. They were filled with pain, betrayal, and fear. Whatever had happened to this person, they had seen true evil. On the other page, she had sketched her murderer: the shadow vampire, but with a male figure. So her visions had revealed that much. I frowned. She had sketched the past. No, that couldn't be. No Blood Witch sketches the past. It is always the future—immediate or distant. So perhaps she had envisioned finding out it was a male vampire. That had to be it. Then I looked back at those eyes and had the awful thought that whoever that person was, they were heading for that fate. I crouched down and placed my coffee on the floor, keeping hers in hand. I gently shook her awake, and her eyes shot open. She scanned the room, saw only me, and calmed down. Good instincts. She may make a pretty decent vampire. She rubbed her face and, particularly, her head. I held up the coffee and said, "Mornin'." She sat up quickly and grabbed it. I watched as she sniffed the coffee and took a sip. She let out a little moan, and I felt a small twinge down below. I grabbed my coffee and sat against the wall. I decided to wind her up as a distraction for myself.
"Bed too comfortable? I could remove it if you like the floor that much." She rolled her eyes and drank another sip of coffee. Despite vampires being able to look perfect at all times, she did indeed look a bit ragged. Perfectly ragged. This caused me to smile. She caught that smile, and her brow furrowed.
"Ugh, you are a morning person, aren't you?" She actually sounded disgusted. I tried not to chuckle.
"Wow, you say that like it's a bad thing, my darling vixen. I am rather enjoying your grumpy bark." I could see her cheeks turn pink and realised I had won again. I do enjoy winding her up. It was then that I caught her looking at the open sketchbook, the contents causing her to turn pale. She reached out and slammed the book shut. I decided to stop my banter when I saw the fear in her eyes.
"Rough vision, I see. Do you wish to talk about it?" Elena swirled the remaining coffee in her cup and spoke very quietly.
"Only the beginning..." I waited patiently while she gathered her thoughts. She sat back against the wall and looked up at me with those bright green eyes. They were like the vivid green of a meadow on a summer's day, a light my darkness could not touch.
"That's what he said."
"Your killer," I replied, motioning toward the closed sketchbook. She nodded.
"The veil revealed it was a male vampire. And he grabbed me in the vision from behind, like he did in the club, and said, 'Only the beginning, Seer.'"
I exhaled loudly. So, not only did they know about her abilities, but they wanted to turn her.
"So, the real reason was to turn you, not kill you," I said. Elena began drawing circles in the carpet, her fingers leaving dark trails like wisps of smoke.
"So I guess I was always destined to be a vampire," she said, her voice a small murmur. I frowned. There must be something about Elena's visions, something that would make a vampire, or vampires, turn her to make her visions stronger. Yet, how does Elena tapping into the veil make her different from any other Blood Witch?
"There is definitely something about you, vixen." Elena looked up at me with a raised eyebrow in disbelief.
"I hardly believe that. You told me that all Blood Witches can go into the veil."
"That I did. Yet, there must be something more unique about the way you do it. Tell me about the other drawing. Maybe it could be a clue."
Elena went quiet again. She placed her coffee cup down and immediately folded her legs, her chin resting on her knees. I could tell this vision had affected her the most.
"I have seen the dead figure before, but it was blurry. This time, only her eyes were visible, and even though they were grey, they were clear and in colour. She was staring up at me, in pain and terror. Then I started speaking, someone else's words, and I called her Child-of-the-Moon."
I stood up so fast it startled even me.
For a moment, I could only stare at Elena.
It made sense.
And yet it didn't. It couldn't.
That name belonged to a story. A myth. Something told in fragments and half-believed warnings, not something a human-turned-vampire would know.
"Darien?" Elena asked. I dragged a hand over my mouth, trying to think.
"Are you sure that's what you heard? That name exactly?"
She nodded. A wave of fear, and something dangerously close to excitement, ran through me.
"You know what it means?" Elena asked, a mix of fear and excitement on her face. I could only imagine her relief at finding out who this girl was. I smirked and nearly laughed.
"I know enough. Though I don't like the fact that you know."
"What? That's not helpful." She was annoyed. She stood up, picking up her mug and sketchbook. I couldn't help but smirk.
"No. It isn't."
"Stop messing me around. Who or what is she?"
"An old fairytale," I said. Elena's expression tightened at once.
"So not real." She made for the door.
"Um, I didn't say that." My voice came out a little sharper than I intended. She stopped halfway to the door and looked back at me.
I held her gaze.
"What I am saying," I said more carefully, "is that no one says that name lightly. And no Blood Witch should be pulling that from the veil by accident."
The room went still. Elena turned fully then.
"What does that mean?"
I glanced down at the sketchbook held tightly by her hand, then back at her.
"It means," I said slowly, "that whatever you're seeing...it may not be like the other visions."
She said nothing.
Neither did I, for a moment.
Because I was not ready to speak the worst thought aloud.
Not until I was sure.
*****
We walked from the spare room to outside Elena's door. She wanted to put her sketchbook back before having something to eat. She was quite protective of that book, yet at the same time, I also got the feeling she wanted to be rid of it as fast as possible. I couldn't blame her. Who would want a book that held all your worst nightmares?
I made my way to the kitchen and pulled out a couple of boxes of cereal for Elena to choose from. I started making some toast when I sensed someone downstairs. I closed my eyes and reached out with my feelers to see who it might be. Not many people know where I live. When I felt a connection to the person, I sighed. Then I heard the sound of high heels clacking on the stairwell and rubbed the area below my brows. Just fucking great.
The door burst open and Valda flung her jacket onto one of the nearby couches.
"Good morning to you too, sister." I said glancing at the jacket and then at her. She sat down at the kitchen island, which also served as a breakfast bar, and flung her long black hair over her shoulder which she wore in a low sleek ponytail. She barely looked up at me as she pretended to smile while examining her long nails. Valda always dressed for the occasion, even if there wasn't one. Today, she modelled a black blazer fastened only by two buttons. It was cut in a low V and revealed a bit too much in my opinion. She matched it with a knee length pencil skirt with strappy heels that looked sharp enough to cut a guy. So it's business today. After clocking her outfit, I decided to tease her.
"Was there ever a time you didn't care what people think and just wore a casual outfit?" She looked up from her nails and smirked.
"Was there ever a time you did? I could practically smell you from outside. I thought you had a shower in this rat-infested hole?"
"He does. It's actually rather nice." I heard Elena's small voice pipe up from her doorway. I turned and panicked. Shit. If Valda found out she was veilbound, her teasing me about personal hygiene would be the least of my problems. Elena had gotten dressed, thankfully. She was wearing an olive-green blouse with dark blue denim jeans, which really made her red hair stand out. I had to deflect any attention from Elena and continue the banter.
"There, you see? In perfect working order," I said with a grin. Valda didn't even look at me. Her eyes were fixed on Elena, studying her as if trying to solve a puzzle.
"Wait," she said as Elena approached the island. "I know you from somewhere."
Of course Valda wouldn't spend two seconds remembering a human. But if she looked too closely, she might realise what Elena was now.
"Yeah, at Club Dusk last Saturday," Elena replied coolly. "We were your personal pets for the evening."
If Elena truly knew my sister, she'd be terrified. But Valda loved when someone pushed back — she treated it like a game.
"Ah yes, the spirited little redhead who's best friends with Valerie Woods." Valda gave Elena a fake smile before turning to me. "That's where you've been all this time? Fucking a little fan?"
Elena blanched. I just stared at Valda unaffected.
"Excuse me?" Elena scoffed.
"Easy, vixen," I murmured, trying to keep her calm. Her eyes had flashed, just slightly — and I prayed Valda hadn't noticed.
Valda kept going.
"Fine, whatever your thing is. I hadn't heard from you in days. Not even a thank‑you for what I did for you." Her gaze flicked between us.
Shit — she meant finding Elena for me to feed on. Except that never happened.
"But obviously you were busy." She looked Elena up and down with open disdain.
"Hey, we haven't slept together." Elena was far too defensive.
I closed my eyes and grimaced. I hadn't had time to explain that veilbound weren't exactly welcomed in our world.
Not now. Not here. This was dangerous ground.
"Oh? Is that so?" Valda grinned and stepped toward Elena. They were roughly the same height thanks to Valda's heels, but Elena's anger made her feel taller. Valda was enjoying every second.
I needed to intervene — but before I could, Valda struck Elena across the cheek with her nails.
Elena cried out, clutching her face as blood welled, then healed just as fast. It was enough for me to hear her blood's song, and smell the floral hues of it. I tried not to react, but unfortunately, Elena could not keep her composure. Her eyes flashed bright, furious green, fangs fully bared. She looked magnificent — and I was absolutely fucked.
Before Elena could speak, Valda threw her back with a mental shove. Elena slid across the wooden floor. Then Valda rounded on me.
"What did you do?" Her voice dripped venom.
"It seemed like a good idea at the time," I said with a shrug.
"Darien. Are you out of your fucking mind?" She stomped toward me and shoved me against the counter with a talon‑sharp nail.
"Do you realise how badly you've fucked up?" she hissed. Elena groaned somewhere behind us. "A veilbound is the worst scandal we could have right now. Father will be furious. He'll hunt you down and drag you home. We trusted you not to screw this up."
She finally released me.
"Are you done?" I asked, bored. I needed her anger aimed at me, not Elena.
If Elena knew what was good for her, she'd run to her room and lock the door — not that it would help.
Valda snarled.
"Oh, I've barely begun. You can kiss this freedom goodbye."
"Oh, cut the bullshit, Valda. This wasn't freedom. I was always on a leash."
She paced, furious.
"With good reason. Your irresponsible behaviour and your lack of interest in the family business are why you were never left alone. I don't know what's worse — your rock‑and‑roll fantasy or your tendency to pick up strays." She flicked her head toward Elena, who was now standing in the kitchen, fists clenched, green eyes glowing.
"Spare me your theatrics, girl. This has nothing to do with you. Run along." Valda never cast on eye on her.
Elena ignored her.
"He saved my life. I was murdered by another vampire at Club Dusk."
Oh, Elena… no.
I closed my eyes and tightened my jaw. That was the one thing I never wanted her to reveal.
Valda turned sharply and stalked toward Elena, arms crossed.
"Really." she said sceptically. "I fail to see why your pathetic end has anything to do with my baby brother. You were a meal ticket for him — and a poor one." She glanced at me. "I honestly thought you'd have better taste. The model had more class."
A headache erupted behind my eyes. Another thing I didn't want revealed — Elena was supposed to be my feed that night.
I wasn't sure what was worse: Valda's triumphant smirk or the hurt, furious look on Elena's face.
Elena stepped toward Valda, arm rising as if to strike.
A terrible idea.
"Eleanore. Enough." My voice sharp and cold.
Elena froze.
And the hurt in her eyes was so much worse now. I had to admit, it took me aback. In fact, I was taken aback by myself. I'd used her proper name — and my father's commanding voice had come out with it. The realisation made me shudder. Shame hit me instantly, but I couldn't let Valda see it. She was, however, too busy smirking triumphantly at Elena.
Before I could stop it, Elena looked between me and Valda, then stormed off down the hallway. I sighed internally with relief. Yet I knew I had some serious damage to control after Valda's visit. My sister spun around and sat down as if nothing dramatic had happened, but I knew she was enjoying every moment of this.
"Coffee. Black," she commanded, pulling out her phone and messaging someone.
"Would it kill you to throw in a little please? Your privilege is showing," I replied with distaste.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Was I the one who royally messed up and made a veilbound that could spark a political disaster for this family? This family that has been against the making of veilbound for centuries?"
I'd heard this time and time again. The Varcolacs had always been about family values and loyalty; they prided themselves on it. However, when it was discovered that sharing our blood with a human created veilbound, the Varcolacs immediately revolted against the practice. It was impure and against the nature of a true vampire. It even created a secret society known only as the Purists. They would seek out and destroy veilbound. It was rumoured that one of our ancestors had been the leader of this society.
Of course, this didn't go unnoticed, and the rest of the clan elders voted that veilbound would not be outlawed or punishable by death. Yet it would always be frowned upon, and a veilbound would always be judged — even when it wasn't their fault. I had given Elena her life back, but at what cost?
"Don't go all Purist on me now, Valda." I slid the black coffee over to her, and she glared at my dig. Let's just say we don't talk about that ancestor anymore.
"Fuck off. I don't think you realise the amount of work this is going to make for me."
I brought my own mug to my lips and sipped, looking up thoughtfully.
"You have ways of spinning the truth to your advantage. I'm sure you'll think of something."
"Darien!" She slammed the mug down. Ugh — it had better not be chipped. "This is serious. How the hell am I going to explain this to daddy? Sure, he'll filet you, but he'll also come after me for not looking after you."
I rolled my eyes.
"I'm so glad to see you care about my wellbeing. Never mind telling him — I can do that myself. I'm due to pay him a visit anyway. I'll make something up. She saved my life or something, and then she was attacked, and so on and so forth."
"Yeah, he won't totally see through that lie." She glared off into the distance. She paused just as she was about to take another sip, set the cup down, and smiled. I froze mid‑sip.
Oh fuck. I know that look.
"You are going to present her. At the New Year's Ball!"
All of a sudden, a peculiar rage overtook me. I wasn't accustomed to this feeling. To an outsider, it was the Ball to be invited to — only the elite families attended. To an insider, it was a fucked‑up night of political head games, sex, and scandal. The thought of Elena at the New Year's Ball was unacceptable.
"The fuck I will!" It was my turn to slam the mug on the counter. To present Elena at the Ball would mean she was fair game. Veilbound were treated like third‑class playthings. Valda's eyes sparkled at my reaction. Damn her games.
"Easy, brother dear. One would think you've developed… feelings for the fledgling." She shook her head at how ridiculous the thought was.
"You just said this is a political disaster for our family. Can you explain how that would be the best way to break the news to Dad?"
"Regardless of our feelings on veilbound, we still claim them. So use that — you brought her forward to be claimed by Sânge Varcolac."
I hesitated. I didn't want Valda to know my thoughts on which clan would claim Elena, or the reason why.
"I don't like this idea, sister," I said through gritted teeth.
Valda stood from the breakfast bar and fixed her pencil skirt. She didn't even look at me as she said, "I don't give a shit. You will bring Elena to the New Year's Ball. Get her something decent to wear — not that hand‑me‑down from her model friend she wore at Club Dusk."
God, she really was a bitch when she wanted to be.
"Actually, on second thought, I'll send something. Your tastes are horrible."
Make that a double bitch.
"Bitch," I growled.
"Asshole," she replied sweetly. "I do enjoy our chats, Darien, but I really must dash."
"Off to make some lowly people cry," I said, deadpan.
"Of course! Kisses!" She kissed her hand twice and blew them toward me with a wink. And with that, she was gone.
I placed my hands on either side of the mug and stared at my darkened reflection in the surface. My expression was grim. Without knowing what the hell I was doing when I turned Elena, I'd managed to get us both into deeper shit than I ever imagined. I could almost see my father's disappointment staring back at me.
A scratching sound broke my thoughts. I looked toward the hallway. Elena was in the training room, striking the dummy — most likely imagining my face.
Perhaps I ought to give her the opportunity to strike the real thing.