Being human could give a guy an inferiority complex.

In the paranormal world, shockingly, pretty people are nothing new. Considering how many of those things prey on humans, it just makes sense. We love a pretty face, and we love to stop thinking when we see one.

So, not being the prettiest one in the room was nothing new to me. But there’s still a certain… completely justified resentment upon watching a man who you’ve seen scarfed down fast food like it was water casually pull off his shirt and reveal a six-pack that looked like it belonged in a movie.

“Oh, silly me.“ Bobby paused, his hands on his hips. “I forgot. I should’ve given you a few more seconds.“

Blair snorted as she pulled out an outfit Laurel had packed for her. “It’s not the modesty thing; well, that’s why he’s blushing. No, he’s glaring at you because of the six-pack.”

Bobby laughed and then flexed. His abs popped like he had a CGI team working on them. I flipped him off and escaped to the bathroom before anyone could take their pants off.

Werewolves didn’t care if you saw them naked, for the most part. But thankfully for me, they cared that I cared enough to usually hesitate before stripping.

I took a deep breath as I settled myself for what came next. I wasn’t looking forward to this little dinner party, but it was hardly the worst evening I’d had to endure. Keep a stiff upper lip, don’t cause a diplomatic incident, and you’re golden.

I wore dark slacks, a dark gray button-up, and a light gray blazer.

Memories that weren’t my own told me which buttons to use and which to leave undone, the right way to store it to avoid wrinkles. I sighed. They weren’t my memories but weren’t particularly traumatic or harmful, so I didn’t squeeze down on them immediately.

I gave myself one last look in the mirror. I looked tired and a little gaunt, wearing clothes that didn’t suit me.

Perfect.

I went back into the bedroom.

The crazier outfits remained packed for now. We wouldn’t whip those out unless Bartholomew was as weird as we expected.

Bobby and Simon's outfits were similar to mine, though dark blue and black, respectively. Laurel's outfit consisted of a dark green skirt that fell just past her knees, a rich brown blouse, and a thin black overcoat.

Blair wore an identical outfit to mine, but light gray. Laurel looked rather bitter about it, so I was guessing a dress or second skirt was involved at some point. Likely followed by a battle of wills that Laurel had lost.

Bobby gave me a thumbs up as I came out, his grin practically sparkling. “Looking snazzy.“

I chuckled. “I’d say I feel like a kid in his dad‘s clothes, but I don’t want to imply Laurel didn’t get them fitted right.”

Laurel sniffed. “Right that you don’t want to imply that.“

Blair looked over us before glancing at Laurel. “Everyone good?“

Laurel sighed and nodded. “That outfit really would’ve worked. Both the girls with skirts, all the boys with their coats, it would’ve been a good look.“

Blair patted her on the back as she went to the door. “Maybe next time.”

Simon patted Laurel on the arm as he walked by. “You can pick out my outfit next time. Though you picked it out this time, too.“

She sighed louder and followed. “I appreciate the thought.“

“I’m not gonna let you dress me next time,” I said as I fell into step. “I’m gonna let Bobby pick out my wardrobe.”

That earned me a double thumbs up. “My man!”

~<>~<>~

I was going to ring the intercom for the Butler, but Blair walked confidently, so I decided to follow. We were moving towards food, I didn’t need to worry about us getting lost.

I was used to walking through mansion halls at this point, but this was not the Hanging Manor. Its architecture was laid out in straightforward, easy-to-navigate patterns, and it didn’t feel like it was designed by someone drunk and maybe a little spiteful. Scandalous.

I had plenty of other memories of absurd houses, and this didn’t match any of them. It truly was just a rich person‘s house—kind of a letdown.

As we passed door after door, each leading to a room that was, I’m sure, sinfully extravagant, my eyes drifted to the paintings.

The drawing of Koehrsen still lingered in the back of my mind, and I found myself scanning for more.

Several paintings caught my attention, though none were as striking as that first. But I was fairly sure they were by the same artist. A young man with a strong jaw and dark eyes. His face and matching black hair made me assume he was Koehrsen’s son. Another painting, this one of a woman in a white dress, a shawl covering her features in wisps of red fabric.

And- I paused. The other pictures had all been set in glossy black frames, but one sat apart, hanging slightly askew. The frame was simple, almost crude brown wood. It looked like it had been thrown together in an afternoon, and unless I missed my guess, this photo was the newest.

The others all felt settled in. No dust was sitting on them or anything like that, but I could still feel the weight of age behind them.

Not this one. Something in my gut told me it was new.

It depicted a large man, a hulking trench coat hiding much of his form. Shadows covered his face, save for a large, raised scar that went along his cheek, ending below his jaw, and a pair of luminous yellow eyes. The moon framed him, shining down like a watch light as the figure moved forward, seeming to stalk right for me.

I swallowed, unease rising in my gut. I sped up, catching up to Blair before she got concerned.

It felt like the painting watched me as I moved, those yellow eyes pressing against me. If I wasn’t so familiar with what it felt like, I might’ve guessed that the painting was haunted, but that wasn’t it. There were no ghosts around us.

But I still couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

As we approached the stairs, I looked left and did a double take. A young girl, maybe ten or eleven, with black hair, red eyes, and pale skin, was walking beside me.

She wore a white dress that fell to her ankles and had a headband with a pink flower tucked into her hair. She was also upside down.

Her small white shoes stepped along the ceiling in time with the rest of us, and her hair hung straight down, clearly subject to gravity—gravity that her dress ignored.

I was no stranger to people appearing out of nowhere, but I was used to feeling them coming.

This girl wasn’t a ghost.

Plus, she had fangs. Bobby noticed the girl a second later and almost jumped out of his skin. I waved to the girl. “Hello, my name is Alder.“

The others, excluding Bobby, froze, whipping their heads around to stare behind them. Blair cursed, Laurel stiffened, and Simon whistled.

“You’re not a werewolf. But you’re with werewolves. Are you like a ghoul?“ the little girl asked.

I shook my head before ushering the others to start walking. Slowly, they did, and the girl kept pace. “No, I’m not that tough.“

She hummed. Her voice was light and airy and tinged with a gentle Southern accent. “I’m Kendra. Pleased to meet you.“ She curtsied on the ceiling, and I figured I’d return it with a light bow. “Do you always walk along the ceiling?”

She shook her head as we neared the steps. She transitioned from the ceiling to the wall. Her hair once again obeyed gravity, hanging sideways down her face to point at the ground while her dress remained perfectly straight. “Sometimes I walk on the walls. The others don’t do it as much, but I think they’re missing out. It’s fun.“

“It does look pretty fun. Do you know where we’re supposed to be going?“

She nodded but then pointed at Blair. “She already knows the way, I can tell.“

Blair looked like somebody had rammed a steel bar between her shoulders. The little vampire sneaking up on us would not do wonders for her cool. It was a little scary, considering four werewolves hadn’t noticed her. But this was the vampire's home. I had to imagine their scent was all over this place, and… well, she was a vampire. Who knew what weird shit she could do.

Though Blair was far less accepting of her limitations than I was, so I doubted that little bit of logic would make her feel better.

Kendra kept pace with us, ignoring the others as she fixated on me. “Why aren’t you a werewolf?“

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

The others, it seemed, had decided dealing with a small vampire child was my job. Bastards, though I was probably the best suited for it. “I wasn’t born a werewolf. Same reason I’m not a vampire.”

She hummed and locked her hands behind her back. I had the distinct impression that she wanted to skip but was restraining herself. The mental image of a kid deciding that walking along the wall was a proper amount of restraint, but skipping wasn’t almost made me laugh.

“My dad says humans are stupid creatures. But you don’t seem too stupid.“ She delivered the words utterly devoid of malice in that blunt tone only children could.

I chuckled. “You haven’t seen all the things I do.“

We reached the ground floor, and the girl briefly hesitated before deciding to hop off the wall and walk alongside us. As she did, she finally turned her attention to some of the others.

She began to pester Bobby, her red eyes open and curious. She went for a different direction with him. She asked a few questions about being a werewolf, but then it moved into the territory of places he’d been, if he’d ever killed a bear for some reason, and other random questions. Bobby rolled with it.

We turned through a few more halls before entering a nice dining room. There was a table big enough for the lot of us with room to spare, and while the furniture was all made from dark wood, which I assumed was expensive, I got the impression that this was the smaller, more laid-back dining room.

Four people sat on one side of the table. Koehrsen was dressed similarly to before but slightly nicer, with a jacket and slacks that looked different.

I assumed the woman sitting next to him was his wife. She was tall and slim, with dark skin and red eyes. Her hair was pulled up in an elaborate bun, and she wore a white ruffled dress that looked like it was from at least a century ago.

It probably was.

She also creeped me the hell out. She had almost plain features. Her skin was flawless like most vampires I’d met, but every other feature was ordinary, unremarkable. But there was an edge. That it factor that spooks like werewolves and vampires tended to have that made my brain take note of her just a little bit more.

That, combined with the gentle yet vacant smile on her lips and the blank stare she was giving us, sent shivers down my spine.

Sitting a few seats down from her was a tall young man with light brown skin and buzzed black hair. He wore clothes like a punk rocker, but they were off. Not from this decade, not even close. He looked like he was trapped in the 1980s. Combined with his sullen expression and angry glances, he kept shooting at who I assumed was his father, and I got the impression of an angry teen out of time.

Lastly, another young man looked a few years older than the first. He had the same light brown skin and close-cropped hair, but he wore slacks and a button-down and plated up a serving of chicken with exacting precision.

Koehrsen smiled at us and waved. “Come, grab a seat, guests, and let me introduce my family.“

As we took our seats, Kendra moved past Bobby, snatching the seat beside me as Blair sat to my left. Bobby shrugged and sat beside her.

Blair placed herself to sit directly across from Koehrsen, leaving me staring at his creepy wife.

Koehrsen motioned to said wife. “This is Olivia, my darling wife. The rambunctious man you see next to her is my son Tyler. And lastly is his brother Mordecai.“

Olivia gave us a slightly vacant nod. Tyler grunted. Mordecai gave us a polite wave. “Pleased to meet you.“

“I see you’ve already met Kendra. She’s my daughter, but she’s a bit newer to the family; please forgive her eccentricities.“

Kendra pretended like she hadn’t heard her father, continuing to kick her feet in the air as she stared about with open curiosity.

Blair bobbed her head. “Thank you for having us on such short notice. The Northwoods will not forget such hospitality.“

Hearing Blair speak so formally was slightly odd, but it shouldn’t surprise me. She’d been learning how to do things like this all her life.

Koehrsen laughed. “Come now, I’m simply doing my duty as a member of the Pact. However, even if we weren’t, I would not let Adela’s daughter stay in lesser accommodations. I met your mother when I was a young vampire. Did she ever tell you that?“

Blair shook her head, and I saw her hands tense on her lap.

“No, I don’t think she did.“

Koehrsen chuckled. “That doesn’t surprise me. I was practically still a child. Only 40 or 50 years old. The revolution hadn’t truly started yet, and things were… Unfriendly for my kind here. Some hunters ambushed me, and I dare say I would’ve died if she hadn’t appeared. She saved me and taught me what real strength looked like. Even let me travel with her for a few weeks.”

He looked wistful like a grandfather remembering his younger years. “I learned quite a bit in that time. About us, what it meant to be a powerful spook, our place among the humans.“ His eyes flicked to me for just a beat.

Blair's knuckles went white under the table. I reached over, steeling myself as I gently grabbed her hand.

It was large and distressingly warm, but the revulsion didn’t come. This was Blair, not someone else.

Her fist loosened, and she nodded at Koehrsen. “That must’ve been quite the impression.“

“I’ll say,“ Tyler snapped. “He never misses a chance to bring up how he met the queen of the werewolves.“ The vampire’s voice couldn’t be more petulant if he tried, and Koehrsen shot him a look. “Forgive my son, he’s feeling rebellious.”

A servant walked by, and I do mean servant, not staff. They wore full uniforms and moved like they were in the presence of nobility, keeping their eyes down as they hustled to deliver plates. I suppose they technically were in the presence of nobles.

A short woman with suntanned skin and dark eyes filled the waters on the table, barely meeting anyone’s gaze. That was odd enough, but I was reasonably sure she wasn’t human.

Her motions were off. A little too smooth, a hair too fast. She couldn’t be a vampire. I didn’t think so, at least. Her skin didn’t look tanned from ethnicity but from the sun. And I doubted other vampires would be servants here. From what Blair had told me and the brief comments he’d already made, I had an itsy-bitsy inkling that Koehrsen was a vampire supremacist.

As Blair and Koehrsen continued to talk, Laurel, Bobby, and the man's sons were slowly pulled into the conversation, and my focus drifted to other things.

Okay, less drifted, and more so yanked to Kendra as a finger poked me in the side.

I glanced at Kendra to see she had one hand flat and the other raised in a fist. I stared at her for a second and then mentally shrugged. I held my hand out, and we started playing rock paper scissors. She let me win a few, and then her hand began to blur, and I was fairly certain she was changing her answer as she saw what I was about to play.

I stared at her and arched a brow. “Are you cheating?” She gave me a grin, showing off her fangs, and I almost laughed.

I lost a few more times before calling it quits. The little girl was immensely pleased by her victory and now swung her feet with some real gusto.

Suddenly, her swinging stopped, and she stared at me with far more intensity than a girl her age should have. “You saw him, didn’t you? You were staring at my paintings in the hall.”

I hesitated. How long was she watching me?

“Him?” I asked, even as two yellow eyes flashed in my mind. “Also, did you say your paintings?”

She nodded, a note of smug pride mixing with her intense stare. “Yep! Daddy says I have a gift!”

Her emphasis on gift made me suspect it had something to do with vampire magic.

“And you know what I mean. The man, he was watching you. He’s always looking for people like you.”

I swallowed a sudden lump in my throat. “Like me?”

She nodded eagerly and then, in the same innocently blunt tone as before, said, “Yeah! The weak!”

Ouch. I mean, I didn’t disagree, but still. “Who is he?”

Kendra shrugged her little shoulders, the flower in her hair bobbing with the motion.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“But you painted him,” I pointed out, somehow hoping that would change her answer.

“Yep! I get the itch, and I paint. But I don’t know who I paint. Not always. But I know things about them, like how he’s always looking for people like you.”

She delivered that fantastically unnerving statement in the same tone you’d expect to hear about dinosaurs. I was used to hearing creepy stories from children, but I still felt a shudder try to force its way down my spine.

Before I could really dwell on her words, Kendra leaned forward, her little fangs gleaming as she smiled. “What’s your favorite animal?”

I pursed my lips as my brain swerved and switched gears. “Mmm…Ravens, cats, and dogs.”

She pouted. “That’s three! You have to pick one!”

I opened my mouth to answer when I felt intent land solidly on my shoulders.

Most everyone has a sense, an itch on the back of your neck, a twinge in the spine as someone stares at you.

You don’t even need the Talent to have it to some extent, but as a rule, mages and Telss’s Sense was pushed up to eleven. As someone whose life often depends on staying under the radar, I was very, very good at feeling a predator's eye on me.

That sense was screaming.

My eyes snapped up to find Olivia staring at me. The woman idly bit into a piece of dark meat, her fangs gleaming in the light. The vacant look was gone; in fact, she was quite focused as she stared at me like a cat watching a bird.

Lovely.

She took a slow pull from her glass, the red liquid leaving a smear on the rim. Her eyes never left me. “Smells good,“ she said, her airy voice slicing through the conversation like a loosed arrow.

Koehrsen stiffened slightly before clearing his throat. Blair had also gone still, her eyes shifting to the other vampire in a snap. I knew that look and desperately sought a diversion.

Koehrsen had mentioned a revolution, so he was quite a few years older than the rest of us. Old enough that I didn’t think Blair had a chance against him alone, much less the rest of his family.

Which meant she really needed not to start a fight.

The corner of Blair’s eyes began to fill with red. Her weight shifted, and I realized my friend was a few seconds away from committing a diplomatic incident.

I squeezed her hand, hard, and she paused to glance at me.

Thankfully, Koehrsen seemed as eager as I was to avoid a diplomatic incident. “Well, I think it’s time for Kendra to have her lessons. Could you take her to her tutors, dear? I don’t want her running away again.”

Olivia blinked, her gaze leaving me for the first time in what felt like minutes but had probably only been 30 seconds.

She nodded slowly, that slightly vacant look settling back in.

Kendra whined. “I wanna keep talking to Alder! I don’t know what his favorite animal is yet! He has to pick one!”

I was expecting Lord Mar to snap at his daughter, but instead, he gave her a soft smile, his gaze startlingly kind. “I’m sorry, little one, but maybe you can speak to him again before they leave. If not, he can tell Gerald his favorite animal, and he’ll pass it on to you.”

Kendra’s cheeks puffed up, but she nodded stiffly before clambering from her seat.

Olivia rose to meet her daughter halfway; her pale red eyes locked onto me the entire time.

“Alright, that’s enough personal talk. Let us move this conversation towards your mission. Bartholomew.“

Blair’s focus snapped back to the Lord, and she nodded. “We would appreciate it if you could share anything.“

He nodded before taking a sip from his goblet. It was red, of course. “I’ve met the man a few times. I don’t know him well, but I can give you a few pointers.”