Page 18 of The Second Sight (Wanderlust Emporium Presents, Season One)

Her eyes widened as Crackstone Manor came into view through the ancient oak trees that lined the approach.

The Gothic revival mansion stood three stories tall.

Its limestone facade had weathered to a soft gray that caught the morning light.

Pointed arches framed stained glass windows, while gargoyles perched along the roofline, their grotesque faces frozen in eternal vigilance.

A circular driveway led to the main entrance, where broad stone steps ascended to massive double doors of carved walnut.

“You live here?” Kasi breathed, leaning forward in her seat. “This isn’t a house. It’s a museum.”

“It was built in 1879 for a railroad baron. I acquired it in 1923, after the original owner’s family fortune collapsed during Prohibition.

” I parked in front of the entrance, enjoying her stunned expression.

“It’s been my primary residence ever since, though I maintain properties some in the U.S. and some in several other countries.”

“Wow,” she murmured, still staring up at the imposing structure.

I led her up the front steps, with my hand resting lightly at the small of her back.

The massive doors opened silently before us.

Lily’s work, no doubt. She always monitored the security cameras when expecting my return.

The grand foyer stretched before us, its marble floor gleaming beneath a crystal chandelier that had once hung in a Viennese palace.

Suits of armor from various historical periods stood sentry along the walls, while an ornate staircase curved upward to the second floor.

My eyes immediately went to the spot where Basirah’s gold framed portrait hung for over a century.

As instructed, it was gone, leaving only a slightly lighter rectangle on the deep red wallpaper as evidence of its former presence.

Relief washed through me. I would tell Kasi about Basirah eventually, when the time was right.

Not until I understood what her resemblance meant.

Not until I knew whether it was mere coincidence or something more significant.

“This place is incredible,” Kasi said, turning slowly to take in the entrance hall.

Her gaze lingered on the empty space where the portrait had been, but she didn’t ask no questions about it.

Instead, she pointed to a glass display case containing an ancient-looking dagger with a serpentine handle. “What is that?”

“Sixteenth-century ceremonial blade, used by the Bavarian Blood Court to execute rogue vampires,” I explained, moving beside her. “The handle is pure silver. Deadly to werewolves, merely uncomfortable for us.”

Her eyes lit with curiosity. “Werewolves are real too? What else exists that I don’t know about?”

“More than I could possibly explain in a single day,” I replied, unable to suppress a smile at her eagerness. “But I’ll try to cover the highlights.”

I guided her through the first floor of the mansion, watching her reactions as each new room revealed more of my world.

In the grand library, leather-bound books lined shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling, some written in languages long extinct from human memory.

I showed her a handwritten manuscript by Leonardo da Vinci, not one that appeared in any museum catalog.

This one detailed his secret studies of what he believed to be night creatures in the hills of Tuscany.

“Was he right?” Kasi asked, her finger hovering reverently above the yellowed pages protected behind glass. “Did he actually study vampires?”

“He came remarkably close to understanding our nature,” I acknowledged. “Though he never encountered one directly, to my knowledge. Leonardo was simply observant beyond his contemporaries.”

In the eastern gallery, weapons from throughout history hung on display. I explained how different cultures had developed various methods to combat the supernatural, some effective, others based on mere superstition.

“So, stakes through the heart?” she asked, examining a wooden implement with a wickedly sharp point.

“Effective if properly placed,” I admitted. “Though not instantly fatal as films suggest. It immobilizes us, makes us vulnerable to beheading or burning.”

“Garlic? Crosses?”

“Garlic is merely garlic. Religious symbols hold no inherent power against us, despite popular mythology.” I led her to another display. “Holy water doesn’t do anything either.”

We moved into what had once been a ballroom, now converted into a gallery of artifacts spanning centuries of supernatural history.

Glass cases contained objects ranging from ancient fae ceremonial masks to modern vampire identification papers from World War II.

Kasi moved from display to display, her fingers occasionally reaching out as if to touch something before pulling back in respect.

“You’ve been collecting all this stuff forever,” she said, her voice filled with wonder. “It’s like... a secret history of the world.”

“The true history,” I corrected gently. “Humans record what they can see and understand. But the supernatural has always existed alongside them.”

She turned to me. “And the fae? My mother’s people? Yumboe? Where do they fit into this history?”

“The fae are one of the oldest supernatural beings,” I explained, leading her toward a smaller display containing what appeared to be a simple circlet of twisted silver.

“They were here long before humans evolved, long before the first vampire was created. They’re beings of pure magic in physical form. ”

“Created?” She repeated, focusing on that single word. “Vampires were created? You weren’t always like this?”

I smiled at her perceptiveness. “No. The first vampire was once human, transformed through a ritual, magic so dark and powerful that most of our kind don’t know its details even now. That was nearly six thousand years ago, in what is now Iraq.”

“And you? How were you turned?”

The question stirred memories I rarely accessed.

The cold Massachusetts winter, the fever that had nearly killed me, the pale figure that had appeared at my bedside offering salvation at a terrible price.

“That,” I said, placing my hand at the small of her back to guide her toward the next room, “is a story for another time.”

As we continued through the mansion, Kasi’s questions flowed endlessly, each answer seeming to generate three new inquiries.

Her mind worked quickly, drawing connections between pieces of information.

She was building the framework to understand this new reality.

I found myself enjoying her intellectual curiosity, the way her eyes lit up with each new revelation.

It had been centuries since I’d experienced the supernatural world through fresh eyes.

“And vampires and fae,” she asked as we climbed the grand staircase to the second floor, “do they get along?”

“Historically, relations have been tense,” I admitted.

“Most fae consider us aberrations, as beings that should not exist according to natural law. We find them cryptic and unpredictable.” I paused on the landing, turning to face her.

“But there have been exceptions. Rare instances of cooperation. Even rarer instances of deeper connections.”

She caught my meaning immediately, her gaze sharpening. “Like what happened between us?”

“What’s happening between us,” I corrected softly, “is something I haven’t encountered in a very long time. This feeling. Do you feel it?”

“Yes.”

“What do you feel? Tell me.” Yes, I was forcing the issue. I needed reassurance that I wasn’t in this alone.

“I don’t know how to describe it. I don’t have the experience like you do.”

“Show me with a kiss.”

We locked eyes. I stood still as Kasi took two steps to face me. Her smile lit up her face and her cheeks ballooned as her honey-colored eyes held me hostage.

She hesitated only a fraction of a second before closing the space between us.

The world seemed to hush. I caught her face in my palms, tracing the delicate lines of her jaw with my thumbs.

Her lips were soft, parted with an unspoken question, and as I lowered my mouth to hers, centuries of longing surged forth.

Our kiss was hot. Heat flared between us, ancient and electric, as if something fundamental had shifted at the moment of contact.

Her breath mingled with mine, so sweet and warm, awakening memories of loves lost and lives unlived.

I drank her in, the taste of fae magic lacing her lips, a spark that ignited every dormant part of me.

My hand slid into her hair, her body pressed into mine, and time unraveled.

Nothing existed but us. This was a taste of what we were and what we were becoming together.

When we finally parted, I couldn’t let go, not yet. The greedy side of my mature had arisen. I kissed her again, softer this time while I relished all of her kisses I would have in my future.

Kasi’s resemblance to Basirah was no coincidence. Perhaps some greater force had drawn us together across time and blood and magic. But that was a conversation for another time. For now, there was still much of my world to show her.