My boots squished on the soggy welcome mat outside my office door. The rain kept pounding against the pavement and windows, a sound that usually felt cozy. Tonight, it felt like a trap closing in on me.
That creepy feeling of being watched stuck to me like the damp Seattle air. It made the back of my neck tingle, even as I struggled with my keys.
Kaelen's offer. Lysander's demand. Jones's tired face. A dead vampire drained by Fae rites. A stolen Moonstone Locket. And out there, somewhere, eyes tracking my every move.
It was all too much. A messy knot getting tighter with every step I took.
Finally, the lock clicked open. I pushed the door and stepped inside. The quiet of my office-slash-apartment hit me hard compared to the storm outside and the chaos in my head. Home sweet creepy home.
I turned on the lights, the fluorescent bulbs buzzing slowly to life. The place was small, practical. Desk piled with case files, a beat-up armchair, a tiny kitchenette in the corner, and a door to my cramped bedroom. My safe spot. Or at least, it should be.
I peeled off my soaked coat, hanging it by the door. I needed coffee. I needed answers. Maybe in that order.
First, the Locket. I went to my desk and fired up my old laptop, my main tool for digging up info. While it grumbled to life, I peeked out the rain-smeared window at the street below. Just wet asphalt and blurry headlights. Still, that uneasy feeling wouldn't leave.
Kaelen knew the symbol was Fae. Lysander said the Locket was Fae, stolen long ago, key to tracing bloodlines. Why was it with Julian Thorne, Kaelen's brother, when he died?
My fingers raced over the keyboard once the login screen popped up. I typed "Moonstone Locket Fae artifact." "Fae lineage stones." "Court of Whispering Cedars symbols."
Weird folklore sites showed up. Academic papers I couldn't access. Crazy conspiracy blogs that gave me a headache. Bits about moonstones tied to lunar magic, used for scrying or tracking, but nothing clear. Nothing on a specific locket or its link to Fae lineage rites like Lysander mentioned.
It felt like hunting one raindrop in the storm outside. Frustration burned in my stomach. This was the key, the link between the Fae, the victim, and maybe Kaelen. But the info was hidden, maybe on purpose.
I could spend hours chasing online dead ends. I needed Silas Blackwood at The Raven's Eye, my go-to for arcane info. But heading there now felt like begging to be caught, showing my next move to whoever was watching.
I leaned back from the desk, rubbing my face with my hands. Think, Elara. What ties Kaelen, the Fae, and this strange magic together?
The air buzzed. A sharp, violent shock ripped through the room, making my teeth shake.
My wards. Someone was attacking my wards.
Not just testing them. Not poking around. Smashing them. Hard.
The lights blinked wildly, throwing the room into flashing darkness. Outside, the wind didn't just howl, it screamed, an eerie wail that shook the glass. The rain slammed the windows like furious fists.
This wasn't Fae grace or vampire sneakiness. This was raw, ugly power. A giant hammer of magic beating down my defenses.
My heart jumped to my throat. Instinct kicked in. No time to think, just move.
I dove from the desk toward the reinforced closet where I kept my emergency stuff. Go-bag, special potions, my athame, a heavy flashlight made to stun light-sensitive creatures. My fingers fumbled at the closet door just as the main apartment door burst open.
Wood splinters flew everywhere. The hinges screeched. The door smashed into the far wall, torn off by pure force.
In the broken doorway, framed by the flickering emergency lights from the hall, stood a figure wrapped in shadow. Not normal darkness, but swirling, thick tendrils of pure black. Dark, hungry energy crackled from it, feeling totally wrong on my senses. Not vampire chill. Not Fae wildness. Something else. Something horribly off.
My wards broke completely, the protective magic falling apart with a sad, final ring.
A voice whispered, not in my ears but in my mind, cold and dead, way too personal. It sent chills down my spine.
"The witch meddles."
The air got heavy, thick with danger. Breathing felt like sucking in graveyard dirt.
"The Alpha protects what is ours. Give him to us."
Give them Kaelen?
"Or share his brother's fate."
Before I could fully process the words, before I could breathe to cast a shield or yell a curse, the figure charged. It moved crazy fast, a streak of darkness exploding from the doorway.
Shadow tendrils, colder than ice and sharper than black glass, shot toward me, aiming right for my throat.
