Every day, the gnawing worry in Selene's gut grew stronger. There were too many variables—too many pieces in play. Yes, Daken had things under control at the school, but home felt different, darker. Something was amiss. She couldn't shake the sick feeling that clung to her, even when Magritte tried her best with various remedies. The worst were the headaches—sharp and all-consuming, blurring her vision, making it hard to think. And then, there were the flashes.
Random memories of her past, flashing in front of her like a sickening movie reel. Meeting Victor... meeting Birdy. Hurting Birdy. Saving Birdy. They were all Birdy. Each memory twisted and turned until it finally hit her—what if Birdy was reaching out? After all, she was Birdy's maker, and nothing could change that bond, no matter what had transpired.
Selene hadn't tried to speak to Birdy since the kidnapping—since Birdy took Dante. No messages, no contact, nothing. But that curiosity, the one that had always gotten her in trouble, crept in. One night, she couldn't resist any longer. She sent a simple, telepathic message into the void: *I hope you are well.*Silence. Nothing came back. Selene let it go and drifted off, thinking that perhaps she'd been mistaken.
But as she began to fall into sleep, a sharp, stabbing pain shot through her chest, jolting her awake. And then, the voice—Birdy's voice—dripped into her mind, cold and venomous. *Congrats on the new baby. Are you going to watch that one die as well?*
Selene's breath caught in her throat, her body stiffening as the words echoed in her head. Birdy was still out there, and this wasn't over.
Victor coughed out a lung, grimacing as his body healed slower. The elderly vampire cackled. They'd been fighting for days now, back and forth until Victor was so beaten he couldn't heal.
"The Dracula name is not wasted on you…" Victor said slowly, breathing heavily as he tried to force himself to heal. He thought all he had to worry about was Kalitas and others like him, where had this bastard even come from?
"Can't say the same for you, the Gallio's have gotten quite weak no?" Dracula asked, laughing as he moved faster than Victor could track, ripping his arm out of its socket and beating him into the ground with it.
"Maybe I should see if those whelps you have are any better? Or your wife-"
Victor roared, snapping up and raking his claws across Dracula's face. The wounds healed instantly, but the older vampire was no longer laughing.
"Curious… Even vampires aged thousands of years wouldn't be able to touch me, I take it back… You're fun~"
Selene paced in the dimly lit room, running her hand over her swollen stomach, her thoughts scattered. Every time she tried to reach out to Victor, it was like screaming into a void. Silence. Always silence. His phone remained dead, no responses to her calls or messages. It gnawed at her, but she couldn't afford to let anyone see the cracks forming. If they knew, they'd worry—and worry led to questions, questions she had no answers for.
But the growing tension wasn't just mental. Her body was betraying her. The familiar, sharp twinges that signaled the approach of childbirth haunted her with increasing frequency. It was too soon. Far too soon. She felt it in her bones—something was wrong. Yet she kept it to herself, not even telling Magritte, who seemed to watch her every move with silent understanding. She couldn't deal with it. Not now.
The detectives had started showing up again, too, always lurking on the edges of her vision, watching, waiting. It was exhausting. She could feel them circling her family, as if they could smell the blood on the wind. The pressure was unbearable, her mind fraying at the edges.
And then came the knock. Haines. A detective. He stood on her doorstep with Laura beside him, her face flushed, pupils dilated. The unmistakable stench of weed hung around her. Underage drinking too, apparently. Selene had tried everything—charm, money, veiled threats—but nothing worked. Haines was stubborn, annoyingly so. The fear of her carefully built life unraveling in front of her pushed her into a corner.
That's when Dante, her sweet boy who took his role as the "man of the house" far too seriously, snapped. He lunged at Haines, his fangs bared, sinking deep into the detective's neck before Selene could stop him. The wound wasn't fatal, but the damage was done. Haines had seen too much, knew too much.
Panic seized her. She couldn't let him leave, not with what he now knew. The only way to keep her secret was to bring him into the fold. So, in a moment of desperation, she turned him. The process was quick, brutal. He groaned in agony, but once it was done, she made him swear to keep her secret—to tell Duncan to leave her family alone, to act as though nothing had changed.
He obeyed. He had no choice.
But as he stepped out of her home, Haines disintegrated the moment sunlight touched his skin. Selene's heart dropped into her stomach, a cold wave of dread washing over her. She had forgotten. Most vampires couldn't survive daylight.
Victor sucked in oxygen, the glow in his eyes faded. He was dying, despite his immortality, despite his experience and power. He was dying.
"Well… You had a good run, little vampire, but you're nothing compared to my bloodline. It's too bad you were resurrected by a two bit queen, you could have been great."
Dracula glowed with divine energy, ripping into Victor's chest and tearing out his heart. "It's so lonely being a vampire god, you were the closest though, wear that with pride when you go to hell…"
Dracula bit into Victor's heart as the light faded from his eyes.
Selene… Delilah, Dante, Laura… Fuck. I'm sorry.
Duncan sat in his car, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. It had been four days since Haines had gone missing. Four days of nothing—no trace, no leads, just silence. His partner had vanished without a single clue, and it gnawed at him like a festering wound. To make matters worse, Blade—his own cousin, a man who had always come through for him—was unreachable. Calls went straight to voicemail, and Duncan's messages remained unanswered. Something was very wrong, and all signs pointed to Selene Gallio.
He stared at the house from his spot hidden in the bushes behind it, his mind racing. Selene hadn't left her house in days. She'd sent Laura, her eldest, to take the kids to school, but Duncan had noticed that Laura was barely keeping it together—her once confident stride now sluggish, her eyes vacant, as if she were walking through a nightmare. The Gallios were always a mystery, but this? This felt different. This felt dangerous.
He had brought his concerns to his superiors, but all they'd done was brush him off, citing a lack of evidence. "No proof the Gallios are involved in any crimes," they'd said. "You're getting obsessed, Duncan." They weren't wrong, but that only made it worse. The obsession was eating him alive, and now they'd pulled him off the case altogether. His hands trembled at the thought of being benched when he was so close to uncovering the truth. The truth about Haines. The truth about the Gallios. And whatever the hell Selene was hiding inside that house.
Screw them. If they wouldn't do it, he would.
His eyes narrowed as Magritte's car pulled into the enclosed driveway. He'd seen her come and go a few times over the past few days, but this time was different. His breath hitched when he saw her get out and walk around to the back of the car. The sight made his blood run cold. She was dragging someone. A young woman—unconscious, limp. Duncan's heart pounded as he watched Magritte haul the woman toward the cellar door, which she opened with an ease that suggested this was routine.
How many have they brought here? How many more are inside?
Rage and fear boiled within him. He couldn't let this happen again. Not another innocent. His mind raced through the scenarios—should he call it in? But no, he had no jurisdiction anymore. They'd think he was losing it. Maybe he was. But that didn't matter. All that mattered was stopping whatever nightmare was unfolding behind those walls.
Duncan's hand hovered over his gun as he crept toward the house. His breath was shallow, adrenaline coursing through him. He had to move fast, had to get inside before Magritte finished whatever sick ritual she was preparing for that girl. He was done waiting. If the law wouldn't stop them, then he would.
No more innocents. Not on his watch.
The door to the cellar creaked open, and Duncan slipped in, heart racing. The darkness swallowed him whole, but it was too late to turn back now.
Laura wanted to die. The man who'd raised her, the man who was always there, he was gone, and he wasn't coming back.
She laid on her bed, holding a picture of them together as dried mascara covered her cheeks. She wanted to die.
She unsheathed her claws, cutting into her wrists until it healed, then repeating. She couldn't die…
Laura yelled, throwing the picture of her and Victor and shattering it against the wall. "You just had to go die! I thought you said you were unkillable! That you would never leave!"
She cried again, not caring if she was being bratty or immature. She just wanted him back…
"Deli. Deli wake up!"
The little vampiress opened her eyes and yawned. Her twin was anxiously sitting on her bed, the fear of god in his eyes. "What's wrong?"
Dante bit his lip, clutching his stuffed bunny. "There's someone in the house. I can smell them. And Mommy's downstairs. I sent Onyx to check and he didn't come back. There was a loud noise . I'm scared."
She cocked her head and focused her senses. There was an unfamiliar scent, and a sense of dread. Never intimated, she grabbed Dante by the hand and told him to be quiet. "Don't worry. We'll eat the monsters. Remember, we are the monsters."
Armed only with their stuffies and each other, they crept down the stairs, hesitating before the slightly ajar descent to the basement. It smelled like a lot of blood. Mommy's blood, Marg's blood. And …
"Onyx!!" Dante yelped before his sister clamped a hand over his mouth. Once he settled down, he looked up at her with pleading eyes. "We should just get Laura."
"No! She's busy crying and being lame. I can handle it." Delilah's eyes were a beautiful shade of dark red, and her petite claws were fully extended. "Let's go."
Not given a choice, he followed her stealthily down to the landing of the basement. Hiding behind a few tall stacks of boxes, even the fearless Delilah trembled at the sight before her.
Magritte lay still on the ground, a bullet wound in the center of her forehead, blood pooling beneath her. Onyx had received the same treatment. Silver bullet casing lay strewn everywhere. A random young woman, most likely a virgin, sat in their mother's whelping den, drained of her blood. The twins didn't know it yet, but their mother had felt their Father's death, and it was enough to send her into premature labor, which was proving as difficult as her first birth. Magritte had brought the virgin to nourish the struggling queen, and it was her downfall.
"Leave me alone! Damn you! Get out of my house!" The usually collected Selene screamed at Duncan, who had a gun pointed squarely at her stomach. She was too weak to stand, and her naked body was streaked with blood.
"I..I knew it. They thought I was crazy. But I knew….you fucking devil whore. All those people…Gaines. You fucking killed Gaines! You stupid bitch!" He bellowed, losing control. "Fuck you and all your…demon bastard children, your husband, all of it! Damn you to hell!"
"Please!" Selene shrieked , hands up in self defense. "We'll leave the town and we'll never come back. I never meant for any of this I'm sorry. Please I'm sorry, please!"
"Say hi to that fucking pedophile for me. Go to hell." He said without a shred of compassion as he pulled the trigger.
"Mommy , NO!"
"Dante , stop!!!"
Before Delilah could grab her brother, he darted in the way of the projectile.