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CHAPTER SIX

ISOLDE

The sudden chill that creeps over me wakes me up from a fitful sleep. I stare at the vaulted ceiling and remember where I am. My stomach growls with hunger, reminding me that I haven’t had any blood for hours. My breath comes out in a puff of condensation, which tells me how cold the room is. Frowning, I sit up and pull CJ’s jacket closer over my breasts. My nipples have puckered hard in the cold, aching. The throb between my thighs has everything to do with the dream I was having of CJ pulling my hair while he rode me from behind, and I groan again, seeing my breath visible in the air. Climbing out of bed, I cross over to the wardrobe where I had spotted a big midnight blue duvet on one of the lower shelves. I pull it out and fling it over the bed, taking off CJ’s jacket and laying it out next to me like a sad woman and her fake boyfriend, before I crawl into the bed again and pull the duvet up to my chin. The warmth seeps into my bones almost immediately, and I realise it’s a magical duvet.

With a soft sigh, I snuggle deeper into the warm confines of my little cocoon when a slow, ominous squeak comes from over by the window.

With a gulp, I look over and see that the window has misted over, but that’s not what makes my blood spike.

Letters are being drawn in the fogged-up window by a creature unknown, invisible.

W I L L

D I E

The ‘e’ trails off in a crooked line as I stare at the threatening words.

My heart thuds loud enough to echo in the sudden, icy silence of the room. “Will die.”

The words hang there, sharp and chilling against the misted glass, a promise scrawled by an unseen hand.

Fear, icy and distinct, pierces through the lingering warmth of the duvet. I clutch the fabric tighter, my knuckles white. Who? Why? Is this about the Red Moon? About whatever creatures breached the castle walls? Or is it just some sick SilverGate welcome?

My gaze darts around the room, searching the shadows, but there’s nothing. Just the moving constellations on the walls, oblivious to the threat materialising on my window. The magical warmth of the duvet feels suddenly insufficient against this new, more sinister cold.

I force myself to breathe, to think. Panicking won’t help. This isn’t my tower. I can’t just hide. I’m out now, and apparently, so are the things that want me dead.

Slowly, deliberately, I push the duvet aside, my bare feet hitting the cold stone floor. The mist on the window is already dissipating, the letters blurring and fading, but the message is seared into my mind.

A spark of defiance lives through me. For twenty one years they kept me safe . But the moment I’m out, this happens. Maybe safety was always an illusion. Maybe the only way to survive is to face whatever horrors this place, and my past, are about to throw at me.

Will Die

“Not if I can help it,” I whisper to the fading message, my voice steadier than I feel. This isn’t just about surviving being around creatures and the world anymore. It’s about finding out why. And who.

Raising my shaking hand, I wipe the remains of the threat away. The hairs stand up on the back of my neck, and I spin so quickly, my hand is still raised. I could’ve sworn someone was staring at me, but there is no one there. Feeling creeped out, I quickly slip on an oversized tee and some joggers before crawling back into bed and pulling the warm duvet up to my chin again. There is something in this room that wants me dead, something that I can’t see. That’s not a great start. My first port of call tomorrow has to be the library to find a reveal spell so I can see who is messing with me.

In the meantime, I use my defensive magic to create a small shield around my bed so I can at least sleep without fear of being murdered.

Too bad sleep is now a distant memory.

The shield shimmers faintly, a pale blue bubble against the encroaching darkness, but it feels like a flimsy bandage on a gaping wound. It’ll hold against physical attacks to a point, but what about unseen enemies scrawling death threats on my window? My mind races, replaying the ghostly letters: WILL DIE. So much for a gentle transition into academy life.

Tomorrow. The library. A reveal spell is paramount. I need to see what I’m up against. It’s one thing to be locked away from nameless, faceless dangers; it’s another entirely to have them breathing down your neck, writing their intentions in the condensation of your breath.

The irony isn’t lost on me. I yearned for freedom, for experiences beyond my stone walls, and on my first night, I get a death threat. Welcome to the real world, Isolde.

I stare at the moving constellations on the ceiling, no longer finding them whimsical. They seem more like distant, indifferent eyes watching my plight. The initial thrill of being at SilverGate, of being near CJ, is now tainted with a metallic taste of fear. But underneath it, that spark of defiance still flickers. If they want me dead, they’ll have to catch me first, and I’m not going down without finding out why. I’m the big Morvoren family secret, and one way or another, now I will find out why. Why does a twin female vampire have to be wrapped up in cotton wool? Why aren’t there any more of us? Or are there, and they too are hidden by their families?

The first hint of day bleeds through the window, chasing away the deepest shadows. Dawn is approaching where the world turns to shades of dark grey rather than black, and coming with it, is my first steps into a world that has already declared me its prey from birth. As exhausted as I am, I need to feed. I need to figure out where the dining hall is, I need to find the library, and I need to research this spell before I hit classes as a student in courses designed for someone younger than me. At least I should excel. That is one bright spark in the otherwise humiliating downgrade.

My magical shield dissolves, the faint blue shimmer fading as if it, too, is exhausted. With a sigh that feels heavier than it should, I throw back the enchanted duvet, the memory of its warmth a fleeting comfort. The cold of the stone floor bites at my bare feet, a sharp reminder of the chill that settled in my room last night. The fire roars to life now that I’m up and moving, which is a good sign. It’s fucking freezing and my nipples could put someone’s eye out. I dive into a hot shower to warm my bones before I clean up quickly and reluctantly get out to get dressed.

Choosing a pair of black jeans, which I slip on quickly and a white shirt with a fairly low cut front before the buttons start. I clasp my breasts into a lacy bra before slipping the shirt on and doing up the buttons. I admire the look in the full-length mirror before turning to the window. I pause. The glass is clear now, offering no trace of the spectral message, only the dark, sprawling grounds of SilverGate. It’s a view that should be beautiful, with its ancient trees and mist-shrouded lawns, but all I see are potential hiding places for unseen enemies.

My stomach rumbles again, a more mundane but equally pressing demand. Blood. Then the library. Then, somehow, I have to navigate classes filled with actual creatures, some of them monsters, and pretend I’m not actively being hunted.

Or hazed.

That thought sits about as chillingly as the hunted part does.

Taking CJ’s jacket from the bed, I put it on, and consequences be damned. The scent of him still clings to the fabric, a gorgeous swirl of comfort and a different kind of danger. I’ll return it. Soon. But for now, it’s mine.

Grabbing my class schedule and the bookbag that is sitting by the desk, I steel myself and unlock the door. Stepping out into the corridor, it’s quieter than I expected, but there are a few students milling about. The silence, however, is not peaceful. It’s watchful. Every flicker of a wall sconce, every distant footstep, sends a jolt through me. This is it. My first real day of freedom. It’s a freedom that might just kill me.

The corridor is long and shadowed, the stone walls absorbing sound as you walk by. A few students pass, their eyes flicking over me, lingering too long for my liking. I can feel their unspoken questions, their assessments. Am I prey? Predator? Just another lost soul in this gothic labyrinth? I pull the jacket tighter, a shield of borrowed confidence and a scent that both calms and electrifies me.

My mission is clear. Dining hall first, then the library. I need that reveal spell like I need my next breath. The thought of someone, something, unseen, targeting me makes my skin crawl. But underneath the fear, a cold anger is taking root. I wasn’t just locked away; I was hidden, and now that I’m out, the predators are circling.

I follow the sparse trickle of students, assuming they’re heading towards a communal area. The air is thick with a medley of scents. Old parchment, even older stone and a hundred other unidentifiable, unsettling aromas. SilverGate is an assault on the senses, a world away from the predictable, sterile air of my tower. Every corner turned is a new vista of shadowy archways and ominous-looking doors. It’s a place designed to intimidate, to remind you that you’re small and vulnerable.

Finally, the corridor opens into a vast, echoing space. The dining hall. It has high-domed ceilings over long refectory tables that stretch out, already partially filled with students. A low hum of conversation fills the air, punctuated by the clinking of cutlery and the occasional, unsettling growl. My stomach clenches, but it’s not only hunger. This is it. My first real immersion into the real world.

Without too much loitering around, I spot a dispenser at the far end labelled ‘Blood: Type O Neg’.

Human.

Practical.

My favourite.

I head towards it, acutely aware of the eyes following my progress. It’s like walking a gauntlet of curious, and in some cases, predatory, gazes. A few whispers reach me, too low to decipher, but the intent is clear. New blood. Fresh meat.

Reaching the dispenser, I grab a chilled glass goblet, my hand surprisingly steady as I fill it with the crimson liquid. The metallic tang fills the air, and my fangs ache in anticipation. I take a long, slow sip, the rich, coppery taste a welcome relief. It grounds me, a familiar comfort in this overwhelmingly alien environment.

I hover uncertainly, not sure whether to sit and take my time or gulp it back and move on.

In the end, I decide it’s best to move on. I have shit to do before classes start, and I have a feeling it will take a while to figure out a spell strong enough to reveal my mystery unwanted guest.

Glass drained, I place the goblet on a designated tray, clinking loudly in the relative quiet that seems to follow me. Time to find the library. I scan the exits, trying to figure out which one of the five will lead me to where I want to go.

“Lost, little morsel?” a voice purrs from behind me, far too close for comfort.

I spin as adrenaline spikes my blood. A vampire with sleek black hair, eyes the colour of old blood, and a smile which shows off his fangs, stands too close, watching me with blatant hunger.

“Just finding my way,” I say, keeping my voice even, though my palms have started to sweat. “Which one leads to the library?” Might as well get him to give some useful information while he’s standing there leering at me.

He takes a slow step towards me. “The library is that way,” he gestures down a corridor even darker than the one I arrived through. “Though I imagine there are far more stimulating things to be found at SilverGate.” His gaze drops, lingering pointedly on my mouth.

“Thanks,” I clip out, turning and heading in the direction he indicated before he can say another word.

I can feel his eyes on my back until I round the corner, the oppressive weight of his stare making me walk faster. SilverGate is really rolling out the red carpet. First, a death threat, now a creepy predator.

However, his intel was good, and I end up facing the heavy wooden library doors. I know it’s the library from the Latin: Bibliotheca etched into the stone over the doors. Pushing the right one open, my eyes go wide. The library is a sprawling labyrinth of towering shelves that disappear into the gloom far above. The air smells of ancient paper, dust, and a faint, unsettling tang of ozone, as if forgotten spells still crackle faintly between the endless rows of leather-bound tomes. Silence, thick and heavy, presses in, broken only by the rustle of turning pages or the distant scrape of a chair. Students, or creatures that pass for students, are dotted sparsely amongst the towering shelves, hunched over books whose titles glow or are written in scripts I don’t recognise.

I head towards a section marked ‘Defensive Magics & Warding Glyphs,’ the letters carved into a dark, gnarled wooden sign. The sheer volume of books is overwhelming. Where do I even begin?

“Looking for something specific, or just browsing on your first day?”

I jump, spinning around to see CJ, that infuriatingly sexy smirk playing on his lips. He’s wearing another perfectly crisp white shirt, unbuttoned just enough to offer a tantalising glimpse of the ink on his neck and chest. He has a black cashmere coat on that drapes elegantly down to his mid-thigh, clad in expensive-looking black pants. My breath catches, and then my cheeks flame when I realise he has caught me wandering around the academy in his jacket like I have some sort of claim on him. “Just browsing,” I lie, nearly choking on the words.

His eyes smoulder into mine. “Well, browse away, Issy. After you give me what’s mine.”