"What the hell is this?"
Evelyn smirked as she dusted so over herself. "A little sothing I brewed. It masks our scent and cloaks our presence, making us blend in." She secured the pouch back into her belt. "Vampires rely on their senses more than anything. If they can’t sll you, they won’t bother to see you."
Valerian exhaled sharply, brushing a hand through his hair. "You could’ve warned before throwing witch dust in my face."
"Where’s the fun in that?" she teased before gesturing for him to follow. "Co on, we need to move."
They made their way through the grand, towering halls of the Blood Mansion, each step careful but unhurried. Walking too cautiously would only draw attention. Confidence was key.
The mansion was brimming with life—if one could call it that. Vampires, both noble and lesser-born, lounged in lavish sitting rooms, conversing over crimson-filled goblets. So reclined on chaise lounges, draped in silks and jewels, their pale hands tracing idle patterns against the throats of their human attendants. The occasional thrall passed by, hollow-eyed and dazed, offering drinks or themselves to their undead masters.
Valerian kept his face neutral, his fingers itching to reach for his weapons. But he forced himself to relax. This wasn’t the ti.
They passed a group of vampires near the grand staircase—tall, elegant, and exuding arrogance. They didn’t even look at them.
Not a second glance.
Valerian could feel the sheer weight of power in the air, thick and oppressive like a storm on the verge of breaking. Lucien’s bloodline was stronger than most, and his influence ruled this house like an iron fist wrapped in velvet. No one would dare challenge his dominion—not here, not in his own ho.
This was the reason why vampires could roam freely inside.
Evelyn leaned in close, her breath brushing against Valerian’s ear. "See? They don’t even care who walks these halls."
It was true. The vampires were too proud, too self-assured in their own superiority. They believed themselves untouchable.
That arrogance would be their downfall.
After several winding corridors, Evelyn halted before an ornate black door, its surface inlaid with silver filigree.
Stephany’s room.
Valerian glanced at Evelyn, his pulse steady but coiled tight. "If she’s in there, we get her and go. No unnecessary risks."
Evelyn rolled her eyes. "You’re so fun at parties."
Ignoring her, he reached for the handle.
Ti to get his sister back.
The door wasn’t open, of course, but that wasn’t a problem for Evelyn. With a whispered incantation, the lock gave a soft click, and the heavy wooden door creaked open, revealing the darkened chamber beyond.
Inside, the air was thick—too thick—with the scent of iron and sothing deeper, richer. Blood.
The only source of light ca from the large arched window, where a lone figure stood, bathed in moonlight. She gazed out at the night, her back to them, motionless. But even without seeing her face, Valerian knew who she is.
Stephany Cross.
His heart clenched. Relief surged through him, nearly making him forget where they were. "Stephany?" he called, taking a step forward.
He was about to rush to her when Evelyn’s grip tightened around his wrist, stopping him cold.
"Wait," she whispered, her tone sharper than steel. "Sothing’s not right."
Valerian frowned. "What are you talking about? She’s right there. My sister is right there. I need to—"
His words died in his throat as Stephany slowly turned.
Her eyes.
No longer the soft, pink he rembered. Now, they were bloodshot, glowing with an eerie crimson hue. Her lips were parted slightly, breath ragged—and from the corners of her mouth, dark red streaks dripped down her chin.
And then Valerian saw it.
The bodies.
Scattered across the floor—limp, lifeless. Humans. Their throats torn open, their blood pooled around them like a grueso offering.
He felt his stomach lurch. His vision swayed for a mont before he locked his jaw.
No. No, no, no.
"Stephany . . ." His voice was barely a whisper now, his body stiff, frozen between disbelief and horror. "Tell you didn’t—"
His sister’s fangs glinted in the moonlight.
Valerian nearly collapsed. She had been turned.
She had beco one of them. She had beco a vampire!
Stephany’s body trembled, and then—just as suddenly as the monstrous presence had overtaken her—her eyes flickered. The red glow faded, her fangs slowly retracting.
She clutched her head, disoriented. "B-Brother?" Her voice was weak, hoarse. Confused. "What are you doing here?"
Valerian’s breath hitched. There was still ti.
"Stephany." He took a careful step toward her, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Co with us. Let’s go back. Maybe we can still fix this. Maybe you can still be turned back into a human."
She froze.
Then, her face hardened.
"No." Stephany suddenly stepped back, shaking her head violently. "No, Brother. I can’t."
"Stephany—"
"I don’t want to go back," she interrupted, her voice rising, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "I won’t. I finally have power. I finally feel alive. I won’t be weak anymore. I won’t be trapped in that miserable life, waiting to be hunted, waiting to be used. I’m finally free. With Lucien, I will be—"
Her voice cracked, but she forced herself to continue. "I will be free in loving him."
Valerian’s hands curled into fists. His heart hamred against his ribs, but it wasn’t from fear. It was rage.
"What the hell are you talking about?" he snapped. "Do you even know what kind of life awaits you as a vampire? You’re not a pureblood, Steph. You hold no real power here. You will never step into the sunlight again. You will never eat food, never taste wine, never feel warmth."
He took another step forward, his voice dropping lower, rougher. "And worst of all? From now on, you will drink blood and kill humans. Is that really what you want?"
Stephany’s expression wavered. For a fraction of a second, he saw doubt flicker in her eyes.
But then—she smiled.
Not the gentle, carefree smile of his little sister. No. This was different.
It was sharp. Defiant.
"Yes," she whispered. "Whatever it take to be with Lucien."
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