Page 74 of The Silver Fox Vampire

Respect before blood.

Amore conqua multu.

Love will conquer evil.

These were the ancient words of his clan, the royal mountain vampires, who had practiced self-control and held their desires in check. Who showed kindness when they took a beast. Thanking the steers and cattle even as they slayed them, and with humans, negotiating a fair exchange of precious metals and jewels for blood. Showing love and compassion, despite the prejudice folks often showed them for being vampire.

These words always calmed him.

Finally, he opened his eyes and stared down at his hands, clasped in his lap.

There was nothing to be seen.

No hands, no legs, no feet.

Nothing but an empty yoga mat.

He felt solid enough. Except… dear gods, he was in his vampire form, wasn’t he? He hadn’t even noticed he’d shifted. And stranger still, he was invisible. A gods damn invisible vampire. His wings were heavy on his shoulder blades, there were claws where he usually had fingers and toes. His fangs were fully extended.

He could feel it all.

And see none of it.

Oliver frowned, certain he must still be in a meditative trance of some sort. With easy grace, he unfolded his legs and moved around the room. He kept looking down at himself, but nothing materialized. Holding his hands in front of him, he flexed his claws. Nothing. Slightly exasperated now, he unfurled his wings and flapped them, feeling the bliss of them stretching for the first time in a hundred years.

But no, he couldn’t see them.

He skimmed over to the window. His wings squeaked, from lack of use, his shoulder blades burned from lack of practice, but still the muscle memory was there.

Staring out of the window across the roofs of Motham, toward the hills of the human lands, he frowned, perplexed.

“Great gods,” he muttered. The scene was much the same—yet not. The surrounding buildings and streets shimmered, ghostly, ephemeral, unsubstantial. Had his eyesight gone? He blinked, rubbed his eyes, cast his gaze to the distant hills. In contrast, they were in sharp relief; he could almost see the blades of grass swaying. It was as though objects nearby were far off, and the distance was a stone’s throw away.

He could detect every small detail, things that not even vampire vision should be able to detect at such a distance. Cattle and sheep on the hillside grazing, their markings clear to him, the details of shrubs and trees way, way out on the edge of the valley lands. Then he scanned the horizon and nearly jumped out of his invisible skin.

A huge rock wall surrounded dark stone buildings, topped by gleaming golden spires and turrets. The whole edifice stood out like a citadel.

Fuck, hereallyhad to be dreaming.

He pinched himself. Hard. And winced. He felt real, no question of that.

He looked back at the horizon—that huge edifice was still there, the golden spires glinting in the morning sunlight. He needed to go and investigate.

And holy hell, his body was so ready to take to the air.

He hadn’t flown for a century, and yet his muscles were primed, strong and supple and poised for flight. His claws grabbed the window latch and flung it wide. Jumping lithely onto the stone sill, he stood for a moment, inhaling into his expanded vampire lungs, flexing his wings until he felt them spread out to his sides. Then with effortless ease, he took to the air, skimming above the buildings, out across the jumbled soft-focus rooftops of Motham, carried by the slipstream in the perfect morning air.

His wings beat with a deep, satisfying swoosh. And now his investigative brain took over, spurred on by his curiosity and the sheer joy of being vampire again.

As he flew, Oliver noticed Tween had the same ghostly appearance as Motham City, as if shrouded in a shimmering mist, even though the air was clear.

How very bizarre.

His wings carried him on until he was in the hills, close now to the perimeter of this massive edifice. As he looked for somewhere to land, he realized he could detect the outline of his clawed feet. His body shimmered in a way that was not of the world he inhabited. Even when he’d chosen to take vampiric form, it had not had this glamor to it. He guessed he was caught between two realms. But he could potentially be visible in this world, and that held real and present danger.

He circled lower, surveying the scene. This area had once been a favorite summer holiday destination of vampires. With a jolt, he realized he was close to the regions where his familyhad farmed. A sickening sense of dread overcame him. Was this accidental, or was something more sinister going on?

His sharp gaze sought somewhere to alight. There were woodlands around the edges of the citadel; he decided to alight in one of the taller trees, where he could observe without being seen.