A cold cloak of snow draped over Nevermourn that godforsaken winter. Darkness spilled across the sky, devoid of stars. Little snowflakes floated down into Sebastian Wraith’s dark hair and his eyelashes as he crossed the pothole-ridden road, but it deterred him not. Nobody bothered fixing the asphalt since vampires didn’t need vehicles, and humans were a dime a dozen down in their depths.

Snow was everywhere. It filled up every crevice and crack in its chilling embrace. Further down the road, Sebastian wrinkled his nose at the stench of dampness in the air and the faint whiff of garlic bread. There wasn’t a chance in hell anyone actually wanted to be out in such horrid conditions, but Sebastian knew how foolish humans were.

Footsteps crunched behind him, but Sebastian didn’t turn around. When he reached the sidewalk, he melted into the shadows of the buildings, sensing their excitement with each step closer to him. Sebastian knew he was supposed to report illegal vampire hunters, but it had been so long since he’d hunted. The thrill of the pursuit vibrated through his slow beating heart, fangs bared as he tread across narrow sidewalks.

Sebastian felt his target’s pulse like another heartbeat hammering inside his head. The hunter drew closer as Sebastian crossed beneath the flickering street lamps, but before he could launch an attack, an inhuman screech pierced the silent night. Shadows slithered around the surrounding walls, closing him in. But when he turned back, nobody appeared.

Confusion washed over him as he tilted his head, expecting another doltish hunter to pop out of the alleyway. Snow flurries nipped at his face as he stared blankly at the empty road. He swore someone had been trailing him. He smelled them so goddamn close. That garlic bread scent couldn’t have been in his imagination, could it?

When Sebastian continued toward his clinic, that same sinister sensation of being watched clung to him like a second skin. Shadows on the buildings were easily mistaken for a foe out to stake his heart or decapitate him. The Sanguine Council were fully aware of the presence of illegal hunters in Nevermourn and how two had already attempted to kill him. Perhaps number three would show themself sometime tonight.

He almost reached the entrance to his new clinic building when that god-awful screech pierced his ears again. A snarling creature of the damned slammed him into the brick wall with as much force as a bulldozer. The impact knocked poor Sebastian right off his feet, who cradled the back of his throbbing head as he peeled himself off the dented wall, groaning at the thought of his broken ribs. Wonderful night already.

Whatever hunting him couldn’t be entirely human. Not with that monumental amount of strength. If Sebastian still needed oxygen, it would’ve taken the air right out of him. However, he possessed physical strengths unimaginable to humans and easily prepared to fight whatever Hellspawn had been sent after him until the familiar face came into view.

Sharp fangs glistened beneath the moonlight, revealing tattered wizard’s robes as the young vampire inched closer to him. Bloodlust twinkled in his dark eyes.

Sebastian blinked. “Castor, what’s wrong with you?”

What the hell happened? Why was his friend trying to kill him?

Sebastian braced himself for a fight, but nothing prepared him for the blows to his face that sent him staggering back flat on his ass. Everything about the man in front of him looked just like Castor Vale, yet there was one thing he couldn’t understand. If his blood cravings really sent him into such a frenzy, why wasn’t he using his fire magic? Castor had the abilities to roast him like a goddamn turkey if he desired.

“What’s your problem?” Sebastian asked, rubbing at his bloodied jaw. “Why are you-”

The clinic’s entrance door swung open, and the real Castor Vale stepped out into the snow with a blood bag in his hand. He took a sip, then whipped his head in the direction of his clone and choked.

“What the fuck is that?” Castor shrieked as fire magic encased his body.

With those words spoken, the clone let out another ear-splintering screech and darted down the road. It slipped on a patch of black ice and slid ass-first a quarter way down the road before clawing back to his feet to stumble away into the darkness. The way it ran strangely reminded Sebastian of a bird with how he flapped his arms.

“What just happened?” Castor asked with eyes widened like saucers, pointing toward the road.

Sebastian rubbed his temple with a groan. “I don’t fucking know. I need a goddamn drink after that.”

“Yeah, come on. Get inside.” Castor gently rested an arm underneath his shoulder, guiding him toward the door.

Inside the clinic, Sebastian sneaked into an unoccupied room to clean the blood from his face. With a sickening crackle, he popped his joints back into place as well. Castor hovered in front of the door, frowning.

“That thing… That clone of me, it wanted to rip you in half.”

“No shit. I assume it was another vampire hunter.” Sebastian bared his fangs.

“Well, it probably was. Wizards can use a potion to alter their appearance. They would’ve needed my blood or hair to replicate me, of course, so I must’ve been in contact with whoever just tried to kill you.”

“I’d never encountered a mortal with such strength as that.” Sebastian rubbed his sore jaw. “Might be a dhampir.”

Castor shrugged. “Might be. We need to report this to the Sanguine Council. Those hunters put another hit out on you.”

“Why did he flee when you came outside?” Sebastian asked, shaking his head. “It proved to be strong enough to injure me, yet it recoiled in your presence.”

“I’m not sure.”

“Another thing I found odd was how your clone didn’t strike me down with fire. That’s more of your fighting speciality.”

“Ah, if it’s a potion, then it can’t mimic my powers. Vampirism or magic. It only creates a mirage. It can even conjure up a fake wand and fangs. However, neither will work for them. It can’t devour blood or cast magic that’s not its own.”

“He never cast any spells,” Sebastian replied. “Just broke my bones and bashed my head in.”

Castor rubbed his chin. “Maybe he thought using his magic would give his identity away? Or you’re right about it being a dhampir who has no magic.”

“I don’t think they’re accustomed to our harsh winters. You saw how it slipped on the ice.”

“Yeah, dumb fucker.” Castor snorted.

Sebastian rubbed some ointment on his bruised cheek to heal it quicker, exhaling a sigh. “I just wish Monarch Colette would let me hunt them down already. Three hunters have tried to kill me this past week. Shouldn’t that give me the right to defend myself?” He bared his fangs at the thought of sinking them into the necks of his pursuers, draining them of every ounce of blood.

“Ah, yes. Kill your problems. That always works magnificently.”

“I’m not the one who started this!”

Castor reclined against the wall. “Well, there must be a reason they’re targeting you. No one else in Nevermourn has been attacked yet. Even I haven’t, which is surprising. You’d think a freshly turned vampire with magical fire would be at the top of their kill list.”

“Do you think it’s personal?” Sebastian asked.

Castor nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Who’ve you pissed off lately?”

Sebastian rubbed his neck. “Like, recently? I don’t know. There was this human traveler who came into the clinic last week drunk off his ass, threatening to kill all the vampires in Nevermourn.”

“You never told me about that.” Castor’s face turned sour. “You think he’s behind this?”

“Doubt it. Most legal hunters know how to kill vampires, but this dumbass showed up with an ordinary gun and shot me in the hip.” Sebastian gestured to his side. “Obviously, my body’s capable of healing ordinary bullet wounds. They weren’t made of silver.”

“Still, you should have told me.” Castor crossed his arms over his chest. “You at least informed Colette, right?”

Sebastian averted his gaze to the window. “I mean, we handled the guy and tossed him out of Nevermourn. Rendered him unconscious and took him to the outskirts of Caverott.”

Castor paled. “Did y’all make a snack out of him?”

“We might’ve taken a little of his blood. But he deserved it for almost killing us!” Sebastian exclaimed.

“And you didn’t even invite me?”

“As if you’re starved for blood,” Sebastian scoffed, leering. “I’ve seen the marks on Lucien, you know.”

A touch of color bloomed on the tips of Castor’s pointy ears, barely noticeable to the naked eye. He cleared his voice and said, “Do you think someone’s hellbent on revenge for the drunk y’all drained?”

Sebastian shrugged. “I haven’t heard anything like that yet. Most hunters have no family either, and I don’t think that guy was even a legit hunter. It’s not like we killed him.”

“Why do you think he came to your clinic?” Castor asked.

“Not sure,” Sebastian replied. “We didn’t give him much of a chance to explain after opening fire on us.”

“Did you keep his wallet? Any ID on him?”

“Nope, we checked before dumping him. Had hoped to actually take him home and see where he came from.”

Castor adjusted the collar of his cloak. “But it’s weird how he had no ID or a wallet on him. Maybe he didn’t want anyone to catch him around here? Could’ve been an illegal immigrant.”

“Now that you mention it, he did have a bit of an accent.”

Castor pinched the bridge of his nose. “What will you do if Colette finds out about this? You’re already walking on thin ice with her.”

“Are you going to rat me out?” Sebastian’s crimson eyes pierced daggers through him, as if challenging him.

“No, but I don’t want you getting yourself killed over this.” Castor groaned. “Just be more careful, okay? Maybe that drunkard has no connection to all this, but I wouldn’t put it past those hunters to bait you intentionally.

Sebastian raised a brow. “You can report that back to Colette if she asks you.”

“Yeah, sure.” Castor clicked his tongue, then softened his frown. “Are you really okay?”

“Splendid. But I am worried about the amount of illegal hunters showing up around here. What if I’m not their only target? They might target my clinic again, or gods-forbid you.”

Castor waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry. Just stay out of trouble. You’re lucky the Sanguine Council’s nothing like those Supernatural pricks.”

Sebastian snickered at that. He couldn’t dare disagree.

Chapter 3: In Cold Blood

Dawn bled into the early morning as Sebastian prepared to head out, donning his coat after finalizing their inventory. Gray shadows clung to the sky and snow flurries blew in the gale. Castor followed close behind him, clad in his black cloak with the pendant of Nevermourn adorning his breast pocket.

“Do you plan to visit Lucien today?” Sebastian asked as he adjusted his hood, willing it would protect his ears in the bitter cold. Last winter, he’d almost had his left one freeze off his head.

“Yep.” Castor beamed. “I promised to take him out for a breakfast date, even if I can’t enjoy the food.” His smile withered like a rose kissed by winter. “I’m just glad we get to see each other.”

“Hope you guys have a good time.” Sebastian forced a half smile.

Guilt weighed heavily in his heart. It was his fault that Castor turned into a vampire. As a doctor, it was his job to save people and vampires, but despite how much he told himself that, he knew he saved Castor because he didn’t want to lose his best friend.

“We always do.” Castor stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Um, there was something else I wanted to ask. It’s kinda personal.”

Sebastian furrowed his brows. “Sure, what is it?”

“I want to know more about vampire weddings.”

“Oh.” Sebastian pursed his lips, awkwardly glancing toward the mullioned windows at the falling snow. “Wizards can’t turn into vampires, you know? Your case was an exception. I broke the law. I’m lucky we weren’t both executed by your council.”

“Lucien’s trying to find legal loopholes around it,” Castor replied. “Those rules don’t apply in Valorath either. If we married, then migrated over there, our council couldn’t do shit about it.”

“There’s no way Lucien could legally cross over there.”

“He already has a fake passport that’s technically legit,” Castor admitted. “But I’m completely in the dark when it comes to understanding how it works. We’ve talked about it. Lucien wants to go through with it. Told me he doesn’t want to wait until he’s too old and looks like a creep with me.” He laughed.

“You have to kill him,” Sebastian said. “Can you do that?”

“As long as he comes back, sure.”

“There’s no guarantee that the transformation will work,” Sebastian explained. “It’s a risk we both took and survived. What if Lucien dies? Can you live with yourself if that happened?”

Castor’s downtrodden expression gave him the answer he needed. However, Sebastian didn’t want him to lose hope. It was possible Lucien could survive, but did he really desire that? Sebastian remembered how he turned into a vampire like it was yesterday, how his dear wife Mave poisoned him with his own coffee, then revived him on the brink of death. Gods, he loved her and missed her every day.

“We’ll think more about it.” Castor hesitated in responding. “I should tell Lucien about this, and if we’re still on board, will you help? I mean, when the time comes.”

Sebastian smiled, keeping his doubts to himself. “Of course.”

The moment they stepped outside, a blustering wind greeted them along with a frozen dead body. Someone tied a red ribbon around his neck, like a present. His rigid expression gaped up at the heavens, as if screaming to the Gods for help. A stake protruding from his chest drew Sebastian’s attention, who crouched closer to examine the pitifully dead vampire who’d been left at his doorstep.