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Sylvia

“ T hey had names, you know.” The unfamiliar man with his hand around Cliff's throat was dressed casually like the others—a plain cotton shirt, jeans, and laced boots not dissimilar from the sort Jon and Cliff favored. But when he turned his head to us, an ancient gleam was buried in his cobalt eyes that made my blood run ice-cold. “No matter where I go, your kind comes to annihilate my family.”

“Cliff!” I blurted, clapping my hands over my mouth.

His bloodshot green eyes shot to me—a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. “Don’t… don’t, Sylv.”

The tremor in his voice made me queasy. I wasn’t sure I had ever heard Cliff this scared before—not since Jon had nearly succumbed to that wound in the Dottage basement.

I watched, helpless, as Cliff’s face drained of color in his struggle for air. His towering frame, usually so strong, seemed to wither compared to the man pinning him. His muscles strained as he pulled and clawed, but the hand around his throat only tightened, forcing Cliff's breaths down into ragged gasps. His stake lay on the floor by a shelf, just out of reach.

My stomach bottomed out. Another vampire—but how did I not sense him? Even as I stared right at him, clawing at my senses, I only felt a distant, foul pulsing, easily ignored.

Glamour . It had to be glamour masking his presence. Unlike the fae variation used defensively in Elysia, vampire glamour had a predatory allure that hypnotized victims. But I had sensed every vampire I’d encountered in the last two months, the same as any other ghost or monster.

My only theory was that he must have been uniquely powerful. Giovanni . The coven leader who had turned the vampire in the break room—and all the others strewn about the carpet.

“Veronica, get back,” Jon said, ushering her into the hallway behind him. She had both hands clasped over her mouth, trembling as she fixed her gaze at the floor as though she couldn’t bring herself to directly acknowledge the coven leader.

Jon fixed his gaze back to Giovanni, his jaw set. “A little late to play martyr. Your family killed hundreds of innocent people.”

The vampire’s lips twitched in a smile. “Don't insult me. That's a little modest, don’t you think? I don’t like to brag about body count, but former slayers are the most difficult to put down.”

My heart skipped a beat as his words registered.

“You were a hunter?” I croaked.

Giovanni’s gaze rested directly on me, glimmering with humor as though he could sense every one of my reeling thoughts. Unbridled arrogance came with his power. I wanted to be vicious, fearless, but I eased a little further back behind Jon.

“Lifetimes ago, I was the most feared witch hunter in Florence,” he said, his words drawling with the assurance of a man who had all the time in the world. “A different name, a different man… But that’s the trouble with hunters, my dear—always the most at risk of becoming the very creatures they hunt.” His sharp smile grew. “Now, I haven’t seen a fairy since the days of bathtub gin. Allied with hunters, though… That’s a first. Even I wouldn’t have stooped so low in my mortal days.” He turned his attention back to Cliff. “Curious boys, aren’t you?”

Giovanni pressed forward, nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply against the hollow of Cliff’s throat. Cliff’s strained expression twitched with revulsion.

“I could smell the neglect on you both from miles away,” Giovanni purred. “I’ve been watching you, same as you’ve been watching us. A pair of wounded little boys wielding shotguns and stakes because Daddy didn’t hug you enough…” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. The sympathy on his face was unnervingly genuine, his voice dropping into a near-whisper. “I used to take boys just like you under my wing, you know. Boys who didn’t have a proper family. We can make our own. You won’t be alone again.”

“Just eat me, you fucking perv,” Cliff gritted out.

“That pretty mouth says ‘no’, but your eyes say you like it rough. This might be fun for you. Give it a decade or two on the other side of the game—you’ll warm up to the idea, same as I did.”

Giovanni's jaw rippled, almost like a grimace, and I muscled down a repulsed noise as his set of needle-like fangs emerged, clicking into place. Unlike most vampires, Giovanni had multiple rows—some layered right over the others, like they were competing for space.

The movement seemed to sever some invisible tether on Jon. He surged forward, his bloodstained oak stake gleaming dully in the flickering light.

I caught only a glimpse of Giovanni’s sharp, white teeth before they were buried in Cliff’s collarbone. A cry stuck in my throat. Jon’s roar of anger numbed my hearing. As Cliff bucked and rasped pained curses, the venom weakened him in seconds.

As I raced past Jon’s shoulder to attack, Giovanni lifted his head to set his eyes on me, and the world froze to a standstill. His bloodied lips didn’t move, yet his words washed over my mind like ink on paper.

“I’ve been shielding my true nature for your comfort, my dear. You have no idea what you’re dealing with. I’ve walked the Earth since Cortes first got his dick wet in America.” I swore his laugh echoed all around me. “Look at you. You’re ants trying to bring down a mountain.”

And then, he lowered the invisible shield that had so graciously blocked my senses, and his presence flooded me. I wanted to scream, but the sound was too big to escape. Sheer terror pounded through my veins as my senses were rattled by the full scope of his power, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.

The world swung back into motion, but as Jon closed the distance to Giovanni, I was drowning in the crushing weight of Giovanni's mental assault. I clapped my hands to my head, trying to force the throbbing to subside. I had to be stronger—I couldn't leave Jon alone.

In one swift motion, Giovanni released a weakened Cliff against the wall and lashed an arm out to thwart Jon’s advance. A brutal fist closed around the stake before it could impale his heart. The wood splintered, and Giovanni seized Jon by the throat.

“I will enjoy this,” Giovanni snarled at Jon, who fought like a rabid dog on a tight leash. The vampire’s expression softened into one of sick comfort as he turned to Cliff on the ground. “The bite will heal once you’ve turned. I’ll let you decide whether you want your friend to join you or be your first meal.” He chuckled as though he could anticipate the outcome. “Younglings are always so ravenous the first day. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

As Giovanni bit down on his own free wrist and drew a stream of crimson, I recalled the notes in Cliff’s journal. Vampire transformations required an exchange of blood—much more intentional than werewolves. The bite would weaken him, but a drink from Giovanni's veins would transform him permanently.

I pictured Jon in the basement of the Dottage house, skin hot as the werewolf infection ravaged him. I trembled with thoughts of the terrible things I would do to save either hunter.

I couldn’t let the vampire’s blood touch Cliff’s tongue .

My scream finally emerged in the form of an incantation. I caught a look at Giovanni’s face and saw the shock flash through his eyes. Even he hadn't been prepared for me to tear through what he had done to me. I flew up near the ceiling—far from his reach—and aimed a spell at his arm. Frost coated his self-inflicted bite, freezing the blood before racing up his shoulder and across his chest. I grit my teeth, unyielding as I whispered the spell over and over.

Giovanni growled up at me, his angelic features melting into a nightmarish scowl. “Your filthy allegiance will be the death of you!”

Even in his weakened state, Cliff spotted the opening. He kicked at the vampire’s legs, making Giovanni stumble and loosen his grip on Jon.

“Jon!” Cliff grunted. He grabbed his own fallen stake and tossed it.

Without pausing to catch his breath, Jon snatched the weapon out of the air and drove it through Giovanni’s chest, shattering my icy formation like glass. The two of them slammed to the ground, fighting for the upper hand.

The vampire’s roar was pure animal, wide eyes hateful and bloodshot. I dove closer, defensive magic coiled up to my shoulders—but as Jon withdrew the stake, there was no need to cast another spell. Giovanni went limp, the agony etched on his face slackening.

Jon snarled, his voice rough in a way I scarcely recognized as he plunged the stake into the heart area a second time. A third. The stake’s tip shattered within the corpse, leaving a ragged column of oak in his hand. Silence might have followed, but Jon pulled his machete from its sheath. He raised it high and swung it down over Giovanni’s neck, severing head from shoulders.

He spat on the vampire’s prone, decapitated body. The display was savage, a far cry from the warm light I loved in him.

No—that light was there. I’d mistaken it for sunlight, but Jon was lightning. As frightening as it was beautiful, razing all it touched.

When he yanked the machete blade from the carpet and dismounted the body, I didn’t avert my gaze from his. If he was lightning, I would let him burn me over and over.

In seconds, Giovanni’s fair skin turned a sickly aged parchment shade. Fissures formed like paint peeling from ancient pottery. And then he crumbled to mere ash—settling like a disgusting snowfall, quiet as a whisper. The chaos dropped into an unnerving silence, leaving only the echoes of our heavy breathing in the stillness.

The remaining vampire corpses littering the floor followed suit—something about being tied to the alpha who turned them, Cliff had once told me. Piles of empty, bloodstained clothes were scattered in their wake. I coughed, flitting back toward the wall Cliff was slumped against. The Blockbuster was cloudy with vampire ash, and it smelled like shit .Sulfurous decay hardly added to the bouquet of old movie snacks and bloodshed.

Below me, Cliff coughed raggedly. “I’ve told you a million times not to stake when my mouth’s open!” He spat out ash, glaring half-heartedly at Jon.

“You’re welcome,” Jon huffed. The rage on his face eased, eyes wide with worry as he studied Cliff. “We need to patch that up, fast . Are you feverish yet?”

“I feel great,” Cliff said, dragging himself up into a seated position. “I love being a human pincushion.”

I glided down, catching Jon’s eye meaningfully. “I’ve got him,” I murmured, allowing my defensive magic to melt away. Looking between us, Jon gave a nod and murmured his gratitude before pulling himself away to check on Veronica.

Wincing, Cliff tore his shirt further to make his wound accessible to me as I approached him. Tiny pools of blood gathered in the bite’s many punctures, trickling steadily down his chest, over his many interlocking tattoos. My head still throbbed from the glamour attack. And Cliff —we could have lost him.

I stumbled over the words of the healing incantation, my hands trembling so hard that the magic couldn’t form properly.

“Hey,” Cliff murmured. I peeked up to find a pained little smirk on his lips. He gestured at the icy formations adorning the inside of the building. “A little over the top, don’t you think? You’re taking the fun out of the hunt.”

A harsh laugh rattled through me. “Any more fun , and you would’ve been tasting blood instead of ash.”

“You don’t think I’d make a hot vampire?”

“Please. You’re enough of a nightmare as is.”

Miraculously, our shared chuckle gave me the poise to complete the healing. My handiwork was far from perfect. When I tried to tell Cliff my suspicion that part of his collarbone might still be cracked, he advised me to save my energy and nodded in Veronica’s direction. Jon knelt beside her, helping her breathing calm.

“No pressure,” Cliff added, softer. “The hospital isn’t far.”

The hunters never forced me to do anything, but I couldn’t bear the idea of letting that poor girl suffer while I had the power to take the pain away.

Jon stayed close behind me like a sentry while I healed Veronica’s many bite wounds. Although I doubted she would do anything rash, I was grateful for Jon’s watchful stare. His eyes only tore from me long enough to punch in the phone number on his cell to request a cab.

The sight of the fang marks, ranging from weeks-old to hours-old, made my chanted words tight. Veronica stayed quiet other than a few sighs when the freshest wounds faded, but as I finished closing the last few punctures near her wrist, she swallowed hard and drew in a little breath to speak. I braced myself, certain that I would be met with a slew of questions that I’d rather not answer.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Relieved tears mixed with the ash on her cheeks. “I forgot what it felt like not to hurt.” She still stared like she couldn’t believe I was real, but freedom from the utter hell she’d lived through must have superseded all other thoughts.

“I know how you feel,” I replied, reminded of the constant ache of a bullet hole in my wing. Except Veronica’s captors never had the faintest intention of letting her see sunlight again.

Within ten minutes, headlights pierced the vacant parking lot outside. After looting through a few piles of clothes, the hunters found plenty of cash to cover the fare two times over. Jon pressed the money into Veronica’s hands, careful to stay in the shadows when we ventured out the front of the building. I hovered beside Jon at eye-level, mindful of the slow approach of the vehicle.

“You have somewhere safe to go?” Jon asked.

Veronica rubbed her bare arms against the sting of the bitter autumn night. “My brother. He lives across town, not far from my place. He must’ve worried himself into an ulcer by now. It’s been weeks .”

She attempted a laugh which came out more as a choked wince. My brow knit—I knew the feeling poignantly. It would be some time before that smile came without effort.

Cliff stepped forward, shouldering off his jacket. He draped it around Veronica to quell her shivering. Vampire blood smeared a large portion of the canvas material, but she clung to the sleeves like he’d given her diamonds.

“How can I thank you?” she asked in a thready voice, eyes wide.

Cliff gave her one of those softer smiles that made me melt, exchanging a look with Jon.

“Wait a couple days before you give a statement to the police,” Cliff said. “And… maybe you could forget the two handsome devils that came on the scene when you do.”

Veronica scanned him up and down, an understanding clench set in her jaw. “What guys?”

Cliff grinned. “Attagirl.”

The cab parked at the curb, idling. I cemented myself to Jon’s shoulder, silencing my wings to stay hidden. Veronica dove forward to embrace each hunter and paused to regard me—offering a teary smile of gratitude before she ducked away, tearing open the back door of the vehicle and climbing inside.

I became more aware of my heart hammering out a war-beat as ambient stillness took hold, broken only by the rumble of the cab’s departure. Its fading tail lights cast a fleeting glow against the damp pavement before turning onto the main road and disappearing into the night.

Relief should have washed over me. We had survived another hunt. We’d saved a woman and perhaps the very soul of this sleepy town.

I cast a look back toward the crime scene, unease licking up my spine. I hadn’t sensed the coven leader’s presence, and Cliff had nearly lost his life because of it. Were there others I had missed during our stops traveling west?

My fluttering pulse wouldn’t slow. What would it cost if it happened again?

Taking wing, I flew ahead of the hunters back into the Blockbuster. Under the weak gray light of the surviving fluorescents, I surveyed the room warily. It was choked in quiet, smoldering with ash and ice.

Jon and Cliff ambled inside behind me, their steps heavy and slow as they scoured the area for any salvageable supplies—which wasn’t much.

“Should we call up a cleaner?” Jon asked .

“Nah. Nothing to salvage but dust, and that doesn’t go for much,” Cliff answered as he rooted through a pile of clothes. “They’d harass us for cash for the trouble, and we can’t spare it.”

“We should be thorough,” I called out, my voice a frightened quiver wrapped in authority. I was too preoccupied to question what a cleaner was. “Make sure nothing else is hiding here.”

“Relax,” Cliff said, pocketing a wristwatch that would likely be added to the hunters’ pawn stash—whatever that was. “If King Dickhead’s ash, so are the rest of his spawn.”

“And you know that for sure?” I started back toward the break room, fretful. “ I didn’t know that any monster could cloak their presence from me. Surprises happen.”

“Take a breather, will ya?” Cliff called. “Aren’t you sore after being chucked across the room? You’re lucky that fucker didn’t break your wings.”

“What?” Jon’s voice snapped, bringing forth the image of a lightning crack once more. “Who?”

I sighed and gestured to the break room. “He got hold of me after he threw you into the shelf.”

Jon closed the space to me in three quick strides, eyes wide. He reached halfway for me, hesitating as though he might cause more injury. “He put his hands on you?”

“I’m fine,” I said with a dismissive chuckle. His stare read me as far too fragile for my liking—even if my arms and ribs throbbed with the promise of impending bruises. A strained smile was the best I could offer him. “Much as I love the murder in your eyes for my sake, there’s no one left to kill. Let’s give the building one last sweep and say goodbye to it.”

Jaw clenched, he conceded—somewhat. “I’ll take another look around. Stay here, and stay off your wings.”

“Yes, sir ,” I said in a sultry voice that made him flee with color in his cheeks .

Although I remained slightly on edge, an unusual sense of calm permeated the building. In my limited experience, hunts typically ended in a rush to beat police phone calls and escape the evidence of a massacre. Ash stirred in the breeze of the open doors. How long before it could be easily mistaken for the natural dust of abandonment?

Cliff overturned drawer after drawer behind the counter, finding nothing of note. “Wish you could’ve seen this place in its prime, Sylv. Lots of good memories.”

“Prime?” Jon laughed, glancing up from one of the shelves. “This whole chain was on its last legs by the time we were in high school.”

“Hey, don’t shit on my golden days,” Cliff wistfully ran his hand over the surface that had nearly broken my neck. He glanced up at me, eyebrows lifted conspiratorially. “I had a buddy who worked at a Blockbuster, you know. I’d swing by after football games, and he’d hook me up with free candy and let me use the break room.”

“For what?” I landed on the counter to heed Jon’s order and rest my wings.

Grinning, Cliff rooted behind one of the cabinets. “To nail the head cheerleader, obviously.”

“I thought that was the quarterback?” Jon called from across the room.

“Little of this, little of that.” Cliff made a thoughtful noise and pried out something from between a drawer and panel. “Hey, check it out—”

He held up a blue and yellow scrap of cardboard for my inspection. It was creased so badly that I could barely discern the lettering: Blockbuster Membership Card.

“What’s it for?” I asked.

“People used it to check out movies from this place.”

“Can I have it?”

“Knock yourself out, kiddo.”

I flew up and snatched it from him, too thrilled by my hunting trophy to register my wings’ ache of protest.