The rest of dinner was uneventful. Informative but blessedly uneventful.

I found myself drifting, unable to focus on the conversation—Kendra’s words and everything that had happened floated through my mind.

It had been a long couple of weeks, and before I could catch my breath, something else came along to kick me around again.

I didn’t even realize the conversation had ended until Blair tugged me to my feet, her grip surprisingly delicate on my shoulder. She steered me towards Bobby before moving to lead us. I shook my head, refocusing as we made it to the steps.

The Butler was nowhere to be seen, and the rest of the Mar’s had vanished at some point, making the mansion feel abandoned as we trudged up the steps.

At least the food was pretty good, which was a little funny to me. Vampires didn’t need to eat human food, but they could taste and consume it without suffering magical indigestion or anything. It was a necessary adaptation for a predator among humans. You didn’t want to be fingered as the lone pasty guy in town who didn’t eat when the bodies started piling up.

We made it to our floor, and my steps slowed.

Don’t look at it. Don’t look. It won’t do you any favors if you look.

I looked.

The painting was just as chilling as before. Those harsh, dark lines seemed to drink in the light as that trench-coat-clad figure marched forward, yellow eyes locked firmly with my own.

I shivered before Laurel bumped into me, forcing me to speed up. The eyes didn’t literally track me; I was reasonably sure, at least. But I swear I could feel them, their awareness, their hunger.

We reached the end of the hall without incident, and Blair marched up to the door.

We all piled into the room, which wasn’t a struggle, considering its absurd lavishness.

I barely paused long enough to throw on a pair of sweats and a T before I collapsed into the bed. Simon and Laurel climbed in as well; the damn thing was big enough that I could’ve spread eagle without touching either of them, so no one was going to hear me complain.

Bobby grabbed one couch while Blair moved another in front of the door and lay down.

I closed my eyes, and creepy paintings and hungry stares vanished before the unstoppable tide of sleep.

~<>~<>~

I don’t have many nightmares. I know that sounds odd from someone who’s woken up screaming more times than he can remember. But usually, those are from memories. Nightmarish ones, sure, but if we’re being pedantic, they aren’t nightmares.

Tonight was an odd blend. That state where you’re just aware enough to realize what you’re seeing doesn’t make sense, that it must be a dream, but it’s not enough to snap you into consciousness.

I was in a narrow hallway that reeked of copper and awful. My bare feet ached as I took a step on the wet concrete. Wet? Wasn’t I inside? I looked down to see blood puddled beneath me, enough of it to cover the entire hall. It wasn’t mine. Blair stood at the other end of the hall, hunched over, her breaths coming in great, heaving gasps.

She looked wrong; her shoulders too broad, her arms too long, and even her back was off, warped and uneven. She started to bend, and my eyes followed the motion. I froze. Corpses. Corpses littered the floor. I gasped, and her head jerked to face me. The eyes of a rabid animal bored into mine.

Then I was in the motel again, staring at Not Blair as it tried to break my mind. More images, just as unpleasant, and then I was on the tree again.

The sickening, chilling sensation of the Wendigo’s presence crawled over my skin as two blue flames stared at me from the darkness. My side was in agony, the stick red with my blood. I couldn’t see Blair. I couldn’t see anyone.

Jaws opened, cold, fetid breath washed over my face! I struggled to free myself and-

My side cramped once, twice, and I jerked awake.

I sucked in a breath through my nose, proud of myself for not screaming. My side ached as it cramped in slow, rhythmic pulses, making my whole torso contort.

I forced my body to loosen as I clenched my teeth. I lifted my shirt to feel at my side. It was dry. The bandages were fine; the stitches hadn’t burst. Everything was fine.

My heart raced, and I slowly sat up, using one arm to try to avoid pissing my side off further.

I wasn’t getting back to sleep.

Laurel and Bobby sat up a moment later, staring at me. “Sorry, I thought I was quiet.“

“You were,” Blair said. “We’re just jumpy.“

I glanced at each of them before Simon stood up and looked for his shoes. “You guys wanna go explore some rich people’s property?“

Bobby chuckled. “You forget Blair is rich people. So are we technically since we’re part of the Pack. Also, yes, we do.”

Everyone threw on the first things at hand, even Laurel, and marched into the hall. After a day of travel, my legs desperately needed to be stretched.

This time, I managed to position myself so that Blair and Bobby were between the painting and me, and I avoided looking at it with an effort of will.

The mansion was just as abandoned as it felt on our way up, which was a little strange. This was early afternoon for the vampires, so shouldn’t they be up and at it? Well, they probably were. The mansion was big enough that they could be running through the damn halls, and I wouldn’t know. Or they could be out doing… Vampiry things.

After a disturbingly short trip, we found a set of double doors that let out back.

I say disturbing because it was so easy.

Practically straight lines all the way. There were no zigzags, no oddly shaped hallways, and we didn’t have to double back once. Truly, the architects had gotten complacent. How were people supposed to stay on their toes?

The doors led to a small tunnel of gracefully arched trees, their purple-red leaves framing a cobblestone walkway lit with slivers of moonlight.

The air smelled of clean water, moss, and flowers. I took a slow, deep breath and felt myself relax.

The mansion might be too ordinary for my tastes, but I couldn’t fault the groundskeepers. It was beautiful.

We walked for a few yards before the path split in different directions. One split led to a pond about the size of a tennis court. Mind you, this wasn’t the only pond; I could still see a much larger one in the distance, to our left, another path into a secluded section of trees.

Bobby and Laurel shot Blair a look as they moved towards the pond. “Stay within 20 yards?“

Blair hesitated, then nodded. Laurel, Bobby, and Simon bustled off, eager to explore. I could see some ducks floating absently in the little pond. Did ducks sleep in the water? Or maybe these were nocturnal ducks. Vampire ducks—were those a thing?

I wish Rogers were here; he’d know.

Blair tilted her chin to the right, and I followed the motion. The path led to a small maze, the cobblestones winding and twisting through flower beds and small sculptures.

I nodded, “Works for me. I like flowers.” I followed beside her as she headed for the nearest display.

We broke from the tunnel of trees, revealing a night sky striped with clouds, but enough moonlight slipped through to light our way. My eyes had already adjusted to the darkness, so it was only then I realized there were almost no lamps or other light sources along the path.

Why bother when the people who lived here and most of their guests could see in the dark just fine?

The first display caught my eye, a distant memory tugging at me. Tall bushes, their thin branches stretching up towards the distant sky, each covered in clusters of small purple flowers.

Lilacs.

“I… I knew someone who loved these. She constantly nagged me to plant some at her grave. I could never get them to grow until after she had passed on.“ I chuckled as the nostalgic scent filled my nose and brought me back to a rainy day on a hillside, a warm voice in my ear and a cold hand on my shoulder.

“Now I consider it a mercy that the flowers only grow at her grave instead of the whole hillside.“

Blair was silent for a few moments, seemingly lost in thought. Then she cocked her head. “Are lilacs that aggressive?”

I shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t know, but those things sprouted like you wouldn’t believe. A small part of me was worried she had somehow cursed the place.“

We both fell quiet as we moved to the next patch of flowers, a set of rosebushes that looked almost too perfect to be real. Maybe they got a mage to come in and manage their garden.

We meandered through the maze in companionable silence, sculptures, intricate rock formations, and flowers filling our thoughts.

We passed by an onyx statue of a cat licking its paw as a bat rested on its back, its fuzzy face carved with an oddly suspicious expression, as if the bat suspected I was up to no good.

Minutes later, we paused at a lone flower pot in the middle of a stone ring. A single blue flower rose from its center, perfectly straight save for a slight bend at the very top, as if the petals were leaning forward to get a look at us.

Blair looked strange, as if she’d gotten stuck between a smile and a grimace.

She drew in a deep breath through her nose. “Night veil,“ she said, her eyes distant. “Or something like that. My father never was overly concerned with names. He prefers to get to know a thing, how it works, and what it needs to thrive. He likes to concern himself with that more than what people call it.“

She rolled her neck in a slow motion, producing an impressive array of cracks. “When I was young, he would take me to the gardens. As I’ve said before, I was a rambunctious kid, always nipping his heels to take me hunting or to run. And he would eventually. But he always liked to go walk with me first.”

A small smile settled on her face, and she softened for the first time that week. Tension drained from her shoulders as she stared at that flower.

“There was a community garden. People would mark out a section if they wanted to care for it themselves, while others were group efforts. My father never marked his own section out; said it would defeat the point for him. I didn’t get it at the time.”

Her grin turned rueful. “I was full of questions like why he didn’t grow the biggest flowers or vegetables to show he was the best. He’d laugh and ruffle my hair. Looking back on it, I understand what he meant.”

A gentle breeze rolled over the clearing, sending that flower’s subtle scent to me. The clouds stirred, and a few rays of moonlight lit Blair’s face. She didn’t look up, keeping her gaze locked on that speck of blue. “For him, it was all about sharing that space with me and the others. About walking through and seeing what they had created, it warmed his heart to see everyone come together.“

Blair lit up when she talked about her father. Not overtly. But that warm glow seemed to roll through her when she spoke of him. I needed to… I don’t know if a millennia-old werewolf would appreciate me buying him a beer, but I had to do something if I ever met the man.

I didn’t want to imagine Blair’s childhood if Adela had been the only parent in her life.

I spoke without thinking, the words slipping out before I had time to consider them, “What changed?”

Blair glanced at me, her smile fading until only a hint remained.

Dammit.

“You said ‘used to’ for most of that.“

Blair shook her head as her eyes rose to the moon overhead. “My Bond started to outpace me. We didn’t have much time for those garden walks after I was in my early teens. Too much time was spent making sure I could stay me.“

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Well, shit. I had neatly moved the conversation to where I didn’t want it.

I grasped for a bright side, trying to lighten the mood. “Bartholomew…“

“Bartholomew isn’t a guarantee,” Blair said with a sigh.

My heart dropped.

She didn’t sound angry or frustrated. No, it was much worse than that. She sounded tired. Tired in that bone-deep way that’s hard to grasp if you haven’t experienced it.

It was the kind of weariness that built and built like a cancer, overtaking your thoughts and feelings until anything and everything seemed dull and muted under that constant weight.

I reached for something, my words freezing in my throat as I tried to decide the right thing to say. What if I messed it up again? What if I led the conversation to an even grimmer place?

I let out an internal sigh as I silenced that nagging voice. I didn’t have to say the perfect thing right now—If such a thing existed.

I reached out, slow and careful, wrapping my arms around her side and squeezing.

It was too much to be comfortable.

Light brushes, the occasional clasped hand, I’d been getting used to that. But a full hug? Wails crashed through me, hundreds of memories scrambling, screaming to get free.

I bent my will, focusing as if trying to overpower a ghost. Don’t show it, don’t let her know.

I didn’t need to be comfortable right now. I just needed to let her know I was here.

Blair was stiff as a board for a few seconds before I spoke. “Bartholomew might not be the answer. But he’s a pretty damn good start. If he doesn’t pan out, we’ll find someone else. I’ll go track down famous ghosts if I have to; one of them has to have a way to help. We’ll figure it out. You’ll be ok.”

She turned into the hug, pulling me closer as she enveloped me. Her grip was gentle, almost terrified. She hugged me like I was glass, ready to shatter at the slightest nudge, and I thanked her for it.

My heart pounded in my chest, my skin felt too warm, and I wouldn’t bet against my hands shaking. But just as I resolved to keep up the hug for as long as Blair needed, she released me and stepped back.

She cleared her throat, quickly swiping at her face. “Let’s go rejoin the others,” she said after a short pause.

She took a step, then looked back at me. The moonlight framed her on one side, rolling down her shoulder and lighting her hair until it almost shone with it.

Deep blue eyes met mine as she swallowed. “I…” she hesitated, emotions flickering across her face faster than I could track. After a moment, her gaze settled, firming as she reached a conclusion. “Thank you.”

I gave her my best smile. Sleep-deprived and nervous as I was, it couldn’t have been much. But she returned it all the same.

~<>~<>~

It turned out that the fabulously wealthy old vampire family had a lot of pretty things on their estate. I know; I was shocked, too.

As Blair and I rejoined the group, we walked past the little pond and headed straight for the big one.

I was pretty sure the thing was big enough to qualify as a lake, considering it was only a few notches too small to use for speed boating, but I didn’t know the technical differences, and I didn’t really care.

The waters were still, creating a glassy surface that reflected the moon and stars so perfectly that it seemed like a canvas.

After my walk with Blair, I let myself enjoy the sights, not thinking about anything in particular. My brain was happy to move on autopilot, examining one pretty thing before moving on to another, like a bachelor with commitment issues.

We walked the edge of the lake, Simon and Laurel occasionally skipping flat stones across it, causing that mirror surface to ripple and splash before settling.

The wind blew our way, scything through the trees before brushing over us. I inhaled, enjoying the scent of the pond and forest. I hesitated. Something smoky was mixed in there.

Bobby immediately turned and pointed up the hill. The others had all turned in unison with him, their heads cocking to the side in a distinctly canine manner. It was honestly kind of adorable, but I kept that opinion to myself.

“Somebody’s got a campfire, and…” Bobby sniffed again. “Enough booze to knock out a bear. Let’s go investigate.”

We all shrugged before following the path into the trees.

Said trees were lush, with full branches straining under the weight of their leaves. Those leaves had begun darkening, orange spreading like a fire through the green. I wasn’t sure what kind they were, and Rodgers wasn’t here to ask.

But familiar or not, I relaxed as we entered the shade. Does it count as entering shade if it’s from moonlight? I brushed the thought aside as I continued climbing the hill with the others.

It wasn’t particularly steep, but it was long enough that it took us a few minutes to crest the top, revealing a quick plunge into a small valley below.

A large shed was nestled into the base of the opposite hill, and a few yards ahead of it, three figures were huddled around the gently smoldering fire, bottles in their hands.

Bobby sniffed and then blinked. “Goddamn, that shit got a kick to it. And those three are ghouls unless the old sniffer’s deceiving me.“

The mention of ghouls summoned the image of a particular ghoul as it tried to rip me apart, but I shook my head. I’ve met a few friendly ghouls, though I didn’t have much experience with them.

“They’re probably the groundkeepers, “Laurel said.

I blinked at her. “Why is that?“

The others all looked at me strangely. “Not up-to-date on your ghoul history?” Simon asked.

I shook my head. “I know they’re close allies with vampires. Are they a vassal faction or something?”

Bobby waggled his hand. “It’s a long story. They used to be. The vampires took them in and saved them from extinction. Some of those vampires weren’t exactly wholesome about it. But now they’re much closer to equals, But you still see ghouls working as servants fairly often.“

Blair nodded as they started down the hill. “Though old Lords like Koehrsen likely had the same group working for him for decades. Chances are they’re respected household members at this point unless I’ve misread him.”

The ghouls looked up as we approached, their noses twitching before they gave us three sets of wide, toothy grins. “Come on down and have a seat; we don’t bite,“ one ghoul said, his voice high and laced with an incredibly thick drawl.

He looked… Well, he looked like a stereotype. Red hair, pale skin, a plaid shirt with rolled sleeves, and a pair of honest-to-God denim overalls. He grinned as we approached, patting one of the empty seats.

To his right was a woman who couldn’t have been more than an inch or two taller than me, with short black hair and wide dark eyes. She had a tan, heart-shaped face and wore thick jeans and a heavy workman’s coat that blended with the hill around us. She nodded as we approached, her expression reserved but friendly.

Lastly, there was a tall man with dark skin and a square jaw. He wore a security guard uniform with a gun on his hip and a radio on his shoulder. He waved as we approached. “You’re the werewolf guests, right?”

Blair nodded. “We are. I take it you work here.”

The man chuckled. “Oh shucks, what gave it away?”

I snatched a seat, and Bobby and Laurel joined me. Blair stood by the side of the bench while Simon rested his elbows on Laurel’s shoulders.

The redhead offered up a bottle of clear liquid. “My name is Lee,” he said before gesturing to the woman with the bottle. “That’s Mary and this here is Luther. I work in the gardens and the hedges and whatnot while Mary here makes sure the grounds and forest stay clear of any unwanted nasties.“

Luther pointed to himself. “You don’t get any points for guessing what I do.”

Bobby took the proffered bottle and pulled the cork. He whistled, leaning back slightly. “Jesus, this could peel paint.“

Lee cackled. “It sure could; I’m pretty sure it peels human organs, too, if they drink too much. But it tastes good, and it’s my special blend, so I have pride on the line.“

Bobby shrugged and took a swig. “Wowser, that is strong. Does taste good, though.“

Laurel snorted. “Wowser?“

Bobby passed her the bottle. “Try a sip. It’s the kind of thing that would drive a man to say wowser.“

Laurel took her swig and gagged. “Is this literally poison?“

Lee cackled again, and Luther let out a deep, rolling laugh. “The best kind of poison.“

Blair took a pull from the offered bottle and kept her face blank, only offering the ghouls a slight nod after taking another sip before handing it to Simon.

The ghouls all cheered.

We all looked at Simon with keen interest. As the other non-tall person in our group, he seemed to be the underdog. He sniffed, blinked, and then took a sip. He coughed and spluttered but gave them a reluctant thumbs-up. They cheered as loudly as they had for Blair.

The bottle passed my way, and I shook my head. “For one thing, I am a puny human, and I’m fairly certain that might kill me, and I’m not a big drinker besides.”

My statement was met with a thumbs-up from Lee. “More for the rest of us! And don’t let no one pressure you into drinking; there’s nothing wrong with a bit of sobriety,” he said as Mary took a longer drink and let out a satisfied sigh.

Bobby stuck his hands out, warming them on the small fire. “So you all work here but you’re allowed to drink on the job?”

Lee grunted. “Moonshining is an honored tradition among ghouls. Koehrsen understands that, and as long as we don’t actually get drunk, we’re free to drink as much as we like on our breaks. We’d have to put down as much booze as you would to get drunk; it’s no easy feet.“

Bobby nodded before pulling his hands back.

Luther reached beside his bench and pulled a brown jug from a box. “This is a bit sweeter and less likely to make your teeth stand on edge. Give it a try.” As he said that, his eyes twinkled, and I couldn’t help but note the skull with stars dancing around its head on the bottle.

Bobby took a look at the bottle, quirked an eyebrow at Luther, then raised it for a long, slow drink.

The alcohol was so potent that I could smell it from here, but you never would have guessed as Bobby finished, wiped his mouth, and immediately passed it off to Simon.

The smaller werewolf gave the bottle a pained look before taking a reluctant sip. He coughed, and his eyes immediately started watering.

After a second, he gave a thumbs up, and the ghouls cheered like he’d just won a marathon.

Lee chortled, elbowing Bobby as he took the bottle. “Passing it off on the little guy, you bully! You’re likely to call down the wrath of The Feral Man!”

That caught my attention. In my experience, stories about people with ‘the’ in their name tended to be worth listening to. “The Feral Man?“ I asked.

The ghouls all paused for a beat before Mary snapped her fingers. “Right, y’all ain’t from around here. Where is you from? Northwest?“

I shrugged. “Oregon, for my part.“

“Ohio,” “California,“ Bobby and Simon sounded off.

“Germany,” Blair and Laurel added.

Mary nodded before continuing. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of your own boogie men wandering in those parts, but these mountains are full of them. And one of them is the Feral Man. Legend says he was a werewolf; others say he was a remnant of the Fey, a descendant of the big bad wolf. No one’s sure. But he’s old, he’s strong, and he leads a hunt.“

Lee picked up as she paused, his voice lowered as he tried to sound spooky. “Feral Were’s, bears, wolves, tigers, oh my—“

“That’s not how the saying goes,“ Luther cut in.

Lee ignored the other ghoul as he leaned in, the small fire casting harsh lines across his face as it danced in his eyes. “They say the first sign is the howling. Like the wind whipping through the trees. Only there is no wind. Least none that’s causing that sound. The howl of the Hunt haunts the people, waking babies in their cribs and setting every dog to barking and every cat to scamper away to a dark corner.“

The fire crackled as he took a slow sip from the bottle, his expression never changing. “Next is darkness. They say he always comes at night, or maybe when he comes, it is night. People never can agree on these sorts of things. And with the night comes the moon. Don’t matter how full it was the night before when The Feral Man walks the streets, the moon is heavy in the sky.”

Wind rustled through the trees overhead and I shivered.

Lee’s voice lowered a notch, his smooth, flowing drawl almost hypnotic. “Then, as The Feral Man draws near, the pets quiet. The birds cease chirping, the dogs stop barking, and the cats? Well, they were already hiding on the count of having good sense.”

He met each of our eyes in turn, and there was something mixed with the humor in his eyes. Something more somber.

He was enjoying spreading the tale, but with that look in his eye, I knew this was the old kind of campfire tale. The kind you told little children not as a means to scare them but to warn them.

‘Don’t go into the woods at night, son. You don’t know what waits there.’

“Once the night grows still and quiet and dark, they move in. Great heavy things cloaked in fur and shadow as they stalk the roads and sniff at doorsteps.”

Mary spoke up, her voice unchanged, not bothering to try for a spooky air like Lee. But the simple bluntness of her tone made her words hit nonetheless. “Hunters seek lone prey, pick off the stragglers, avoid risk. Not these. The Feral Man prefers groups. Pairs are his favorites, but any more than one will do.“

Lee grinned, his triangle teeth flashing in the firelight. “It’s a test or maybe a compulsion. No one really knows why he does it, but like many old things, The Feral Man’s got rules. You don’t run from the Hunt. Not on that night. It’s a good way to get chased.”

Luther spoke up, his baritone matching the ominous vibe effortlessly. “As the dark shapes circle, red, white, and yellow eyes peering from the darkness, every man and every woman finds themselves with a choice. Run or try and stand your ground; let someone else have a chance.”

Lee chuckled, the sound rolling through the little valley. “Failing the test means death, and if everyone fails, well, only the weakest person there will be left.”

I could picture it, beasts spreading through a town like a grizzly echo as people panicked and ran.

Lee took another longer drink before letting out a satisfied sigh. “There are the beasts, but worse is the Feral Man himself. Big as a bear, silent as he wishes, he stalks the night clad in an old heavy trench coat. Its worn surface patched and thick as the boots that echo his steps. Darkness shrouds him, hiding all but his eyes. Two yellow lights peer out from the darkness, searching.“

The image of a painting staring me down sprung unbidden to my mind, and I had to fight a shudder as Kendra’s words replayed in my head. “He’s always looking for people like you.”

Then Lee sat up, and the spell was broken. “Or so they say. He’s real, that much ain’t in question, but we’ve never met him. Thank God, I’d probably leave these two weaklings behind and become food.”

That earned him a chorus of jeers from the other ghouls. He laughed and raised his hands in surrender.

Bobby rubbed his chin. “I’m kind of surprised we’ve never heard of him.”

Lee shrugged. “The Feral Man operates in bursts. He’ll go dormant for years. Decades even. Then suddenly, a small town is gone. Then several. No one knows why he just stops and then starts again. It’s part of the mystery. But he’s been dormant for a while now; not surprising you ain’t heard of him in his downtime.”

He pointed at us. “It’s your turn now; hit us with something spooky or interesting. Or both.“

The werewolves all looked at me, which I felt was unfair. They were spooks as much as I was. They should have their own absurd stories to share. But their reaction caused the ghouls to look at me.

Well, I have to come up with something now. I tried to think of a good story, but most of the ones that sprang to mind were too dark for my current mood.

I dug through my memory for a moment before smiling. “This is a real story from years ago. It’s a little silly, but I swear it happened. It was a long week, and I had to figure out how to get a hidden inheritance back to a man’s family. Problem was another group was trying to steal the inheritance And the man in question could only communicate in whistles.”