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Sebastián

L ondon’s forgotten churches held many secrets, but the dead girl sprawled across the altar wasn’t supposed to be one of them.

Moonlight filtered through the broken rose window, casting fractured colours across the chapel’s crumbling walls. Blood pooled across weathered flagstones, seeping between the cracks in a crimson constellation. Too late. Again.

Above her, the cambion—the most foul sort of lesser demon—crouched on a fallen beam, perfectly still in its human male form.

Dark energy harvested from the corpse crackled around it like static electricity, raising the hairs on my arms. The demon’s presence made a mockery of what little sanctity remained—though after five centuries, I’d seen enough to know how hollow that had always been.

“You’re too late, vampire,” the vile thing hissed.

I adjusted the sleeves of my knee-length black coat, brass buttons clinking. “I can see that.”

I’d tracked the cambion for the last three nights, always one step behind. Another dead human because I hadn’t been fast enough. The familiar weight of failure pressed against my chest. I smoothed down my fitted trousers, brushing away debris from the decrepit pews I’d vaulted over in my pursuit.

The cambion shrieked—an almighty, ear-deafening sound that shattered what remained of the stained glass, sending a kaleidoscope of coloured shards raining down around us.

Honestly, it was a miracle my coat had survived over fifty years of this abuse .

The beast launched itself from the beam and I sidestepped, my movements precise despite the glass crunching beneath my shoes.

“Magpie,” I snapped into my comms earpiece as I ducked under claws that would have taken my head off. “Location of the others?”

A burst of anxious typing filled my ear. “Boss! Peacock and Terrier are in the parish house across the courtyard. About two minutes from—”

I didn’t hear the rest. The creature slammed me into a stone pillar, decades’ worth of dust raining down with the impact. A sharp tear pierced the air. Ah! There went my waistcoat.

I lunged forward, my hand closing around its throat. In one fluid motion, I hooked my foot behind its leg and spun us both, slamming the cambion against the pillar. Stone cracked. The impact would have crushed human bones, but the creature merely wheezed out a laugh.

The cambion’s human glamour was slipping, revealing scaled skin beneath. Its eyes blazed with stolen power as it lunged again, but this time I was ready.

“Who are you working for?” I demanded. Blood from my split lip trickled down my chin, the copper taste filling my mouth. “Tell me, and I’ll show mercy by making your death quick and painless.”

“The old powers are stirring, vampire.” Its voice grated like rusted metal before a forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air. “They remember what you forgot.”

The cambion’s words struck deep. What you forgot. The familiar fog rolled through my mind, memories slipping away like smoke whenever I tried to grasp them. Faces without names. Places without context. Centuries of existence, reduced to fragments and whispers.

Sweat slicked my palms, and in that moment of distraction, my grip slipped against the creature’s scaly flesh—a fatal mistake.

The creature’s tail manifested, whipping around to slam into my chest. I flew backward, crashing through rotting pews. Wood splintered. Pain lanced through my ribs as I rolled, barely avoiding the cambion’s follow-up strike .

The creature pressed its advantage, driving me back across the chapel floor. Each blow carried supernatural strength, fuelled by its recent kill. I drew my silver dagger from my hip, its ancient Spanish metalwork gleaming sharply.

Moonlight caught the cambion’s scales as it lunged. This time, I didn’t dodge.

I let its momentum carry us both down, using its own weight to drive the blade deep into its throat. “ In tenebris te dimitto, ” I snarled, the Latin falling from my lips like muscle memory.

The effect was immediate. Where silver met flesh, the creature’s skin began to bubble and dissolve.

Holy oil mixed with quicksilver—an old recipe, effective against demons and the damned alike.

The cambion’s scream echoed through the derelict chapel, its human glamour completely shattering as corruption ate through muscle and bone.

Sulphur filled the air, its rancid stench burning my nostrils.

Delightful. This was exactly how I’d planned to spend my Thursday evening.

Rapid footsteps approached from outside. About bloody time.

The chapel doors burst open, wood groaning in protest. Kit’s massive frame filled the entrance, his gun trained on the dissolving cambion.

Behind him, Rory bounced on his toes, his usually chaotic blond hair housing a thick layer of grey grime. “Aw, you had fun without us!”

“Shut up,” Kit growled at his brother, lowering his weapon. His eyes scanned me for injuries, then flicked to the pile of ash and scales that had been the cambion moments before. “You unharmed, boss?”

I wiped blood from my split lip with my sleeve. “Peachy.”

“That coat is going to need a good wash again.” Priya stepped around them both, adjusting her oversized purple scarf. “Are you hurt?”

My ribs ached, but they could wait. “The girl first.”

We approached the altar together, forming a small circle around the body. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen. Dark hair fanned out like a halo against the stone .

Her white shirt was torn, jagged edges revealing frost patterns spiralling across her chest in intricate whorls, spreading outward from her heart.

“Identical markings to the other victims,” Kit said.

I sighed. We’d now exceeded ten bodies, but were little closer to discovering what malicious entity was behind this gruesome operation: seeding dark magic inside a victim, harvesting it once it had been cultivated.

I traced the air above the frost patterns, feeling the residual cold emanate from them.

“The cambion said something cryptic about old powers stirring… but nothing actually useful.” Ignoring the protest from my ribs, I straightened.

The slow speed at which the injury was healing was a stark reminder that I needed to feed.

I’d have to drink the rest of my meager supply of blood when I returned to the hotel.

“Priya, document everything. Kit, coordinate with Felix for cleanup. Rory—”

“Yeah?”

“Try not to touch anything.”

“That was one time—”

“Three times,” Kit corrected. “Last month alone.”

I tuned out their bickering, my gaze returning to the dead teenager. The frost patterns on her chest caught the moonlight, throwing strange shadows across her pale skin.

Another body. Another failure. And somewhere in London, evil was already choosing its next prey.