There’s something about Leander’s mansion that always felt like it was watching you. Maybe it was the way the shadows lingered just a little too long in the corners, or how the flicker of candlelight seemed to move with a mind of its own. Eddie and I had been here too many times to count, but the place never got any more comfortable. Not when you knew whose territory you were stepping into.

“I’m guessing this’ll go about as well as a funeral with an open bar,” Eddie said as we reached the front steps, his usual smirk in place. He tugged at the lapel of his jacket like he was preparing for some twisted social event. “Think he’ll take it in stride?”

“Leander? You’re kidding, right?” I muttered, flicking a cigarette from my pack and lighting it. “Blanchard’s been killing his people. He’s gonna want blood.”

Eddie gave a low whistle. “Yeah, but he’s always playing the long game. Maybe he’ll see the big picture.”

“I’m betting he’ll want to rip Blanchard’s head off first,” I said, blowing out a puff of smoke. “Then, maybe, he’ll see the big picture.”

We stepped inside the mansion, and sure enough, one of Leander’s lackeys was waiting for us. They always had this polished look, like they were trying too hard to appear human. This one didn’t even bother making eye contact as he led us down the hallway to Leander’s study.

Leander was already sitting behind his massive desk when we entered. The room was dimly lit, as usual, with candles casting long shadows across the floor. He didn’t stand up. Leander never did. His power was all in the way he looked at you, like he already knew every secret you’d ever tried to keep.

“Broussard,” he said, his voice smooth as silk but carrying that familiar edge. “You’re back surprisingly quick.”

I flicked my cigarette into the ashtray on his desk and leaned back against the chair. “Wasn’t hard. There’s a Helsing in town. Name’s Brian Blanchard. He’s been killing your people. He’s not hiding, and he’s not done.”

Leander’s dark eyes flicked to Eddie, who’d perched himself on the arm of a nearby chair. “A Helsing,” Leander murmured, almost like he was testing the word on his tongue. “They’re not common around here.”

“Yeah, well, this one’s special,” Eddie cut in, crossing his arms. “He’s already killed Nancy’s sire.”

Leander didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. He just smiled, slow and deliberate. “Yes, I know.”

I frowned, sitting forward. “You knew?”

Leander’s gaze shifted back to me, that cold, knowing look I’d come to expect. “Of course. Nancy’s sire was on the list I gave you, wasn’t he?” He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of him. “I allowed her sire to turn her. It was a reward for his service.”

“And now he’s dead,” I said. “Nancy’s unbound. She’s not under anyone’s control.”

Leander’s smile widened just enough to show the tips of his fangs. “Precisely. And that makes her... valuable.”

Eddie snorted, leaning forward. “Valuable? You mean, now that she’s free, you’re thinking about turning her into your new pet project?”

Leander’s eyes darkened, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. “Careful, elf,” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “Nancy is not a pet. She’s unbound, independent. She has no ties to any bloodline, no master to control her. That kind of freedom in a vampire? It’s rare.”

“And what? You’re planning on marrying her?” Eddie pressed, pushing the boundary like he always did. “Sounds a lot like... marrying your own sister, doesn’t it?”

The room went still. Leander’s smile disappeared in an instant, his eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. For a moment, I thought he might lunge at Eddie. I could feel the tension crackling like electricity, thick and suffocating.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Watch your tongue, elf,” Leander said, his voice like ice. “You forget your place.”

Eddie shrugged, completely unfazed, but I cut in before things escalated further. “Look, Leander, we didn’t come here to get into semantics. Blanchard’s in town, and he’s picking off your people. He’s not going to stop until he’s finished, and you know what that means.”

Leander leaned back, regaining his composure. “It means he’s my problem.”

“Exactly,” I said. “And if you want to stop him, you’re going to have to move fast. He’s already proven he can take out vampires, and he’s not afraid of the consequences.”

Leander’s eyes glimmered with cold calculation. “Blanchard is a threat, yes. But threats can be managed. He’s just one man.”

“Don’t underestimate him,” I warned. “He’s not just some misguided vampire hunter picking off random vampires. He eats your kind for snacks.”

Leander waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll handle Blanchard when the time comes. I’m not concerned.”

That was typical Leander. Always playing it cool, always thinking three steps ahead. But I knew better. Blanchard wasn’t just some rogue vampire hunter. He was a Helsing, and that made him dangerous in ways Leander hadn’t fully grasped yet. Or maybe he did and just wanted to play it cool.

Eddie stood up, stretching his arms with an exaggerated yawn. “Well, you’ve been warned. Just don’t come crying to us when things get messy.”

Leander shot Eddie a glare, but I could tell the elf had already gotten under his skin. I stood up too, nodding to Leander. “Blanchard was at the Rusty Nail. I warned him to leave the city, but he didn’t seem interested in listening.”

Leander’s smile returned, colder than ever. “You’re always so considerate, Broussard. Blanchard will be dealt with.”

As we turned to leave, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were walking straight into the middle of something far more dangerous than either of us realised.

- - - - -

We got back to my office well after midnight. The city was quieter than usual, the streets mostly empty, save for the occasional cab rolling by or the faint sound of a distant siren. Eddie tossed himself onto the old leather couch in the corner of the office, his feet propped up like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Leander’s playing his usual game,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “He thinks he can outmanoeuvre Blanchard.”

I shrugged, moving to my desk and lighting another cigarette. “Leander thinks he can outmanoeuvre everyone. But this isn’t going to go his way.”

“You sure about that?” Eddie asked, raising an eyebrow. “Leander’s got centuries of experience. Blanchard’s good, but—”

A knock on the door cut him off. Three sharp, heavy raps that immediately put my nerves on edge. Eddie shot me a look, sitting up. “You expecting someone?”

“No,” I muttered, reaching for the gun tucked in my desk drawer. “Stay sharp.”

I opened the door, and there stood Brian Blanchard, looking like he’d just fought a dozen vampires. Maybe he had. He was covered in blood, his leather jacket torn and his face pale and drawn. He was barely standing, leaning heavily against the doorframe, and when I saw the deep gashes across his chest, I knew he’d been in one hell of a fight.

“Broussard,” he rasped, his voice weak. “Need... need your help.”

“Jesus,” I muttered, stepping aside so he could stumble in. Eddie was already moving, grabbing the first-aid kit from the shelf as Brian collapsed into one of the chairs.

“You look like hell,” Eddie said, handing me a towel to press against one of Brian’s wounds. “Leander’s men?”

Brian nodded, wincing as he tried to sit up straighter. “Yeah. They... ambushed me. Took out six of them, but... I lost my amulet.”

I frowned, pressing the towel harder against his chest. “Amulet?”

Brian’s eyes were clouded with pain, but his voice stayed steady. “It’s a storage device. Holds vampire essence. Helps me heal. Without it, I’m running on fumes. They took it during the fight.”

I exchanged a glance with Eddie. A Helsing amulet was almost like a piece of his soul made manifest, and in the wrong hands it could be turned against him. If Leander’s men had found it… Well, we were looking at a dead man.

“And you need us to get it back,” I said, already feeling the weight of what that meant.

Brian nodded, gritting his teeth. “Yeah. Warehouse... on Dauphine Street. That’s where they jumped me.”

Before I could even respond, something flickered in the back of my mind—my psychic sense kicking in, that familiar tug pulling me toward the truth. But the warehouse wasn’t where I was being pulled.

“No,” I said slowly, the vision sharpening in my head. “It’s not at the warehouse anymore.”

Brian’s eyes snapped to mine. “What?”

“The amulet,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck as the image solidified in my mind. “It’s not there. It’s with Granny Leroux.”

Eddie let out a low whistle. “Granny Leroux? Now that is a complication.”

Brian’s face twisted with pain and frustration. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Why would the Witch of Bayou Sauvage have my amulet?”

I shook my head. “I wish I was. But if she’s got it, this just got a whole lot messier.”

The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on all of us. Granny Leroux wasn’t someone you crossed lightly. But if she had Brian’s amulet, then we didn’t have a choice but to visit her.

“Looks like we’re paying Granny a visit,” I said, stubbing out my cigarette. “And I have a feeling it’s not going to be a friendly one.”