I breathed in, then out. I knew this was his door I was standing in front of. I hadn't seen him go in here, yet I could smell him — pine, sandalwood and leather. I could hear him. Perks of being a vampire now.
He was holding a guitar, sliding his fingers up and down the strings, making a metallic whine, but not playing. Every now and then, I heard him exhale.
I stood there, my hand hovering as if to knock. How could I face him? I had attacked him violently. I bit him. Then I did the unthinkable and tried to claim him as if he were mine. I even shouted it.
Mine!
I pulled my hand back from the door. No, I need to apologise. I wasn't myself, yes, but that was no excuse.
I took a step forward and prepared to knock—
"Would you just come in already, Vixen? A guy could develop grey hairs waiting on you."
I scoffed. There was that nickname again. I opened the door, and he was lounging on a leather couch, a guitar in his hands, barely looking at me. Though annoyed, my guilt hadn't gone away.
"Look, Darien, I'm so sorry that—"
But he interrupted me.
"Do you think you're the first to go feral over me?" he asked, grinning as he finally looked up, those intense purple eyes catching mine. I knew now they were truly that supernatural colour and not some fun contacts he'd worn for theatrics.
He was deflecting me. I decided I wasn't having it.
"Still, it's no excuse. I am sorry I attacked you and called you… mine. That was inexcusable."
Darien's expression went carefully neutral, and he stared at me. I felt as though I were being scanned by an X-ray, as if he was trying to decide something about me. He sat up, setting the guitar aside on the couch.
"Are you really?" he asked, his voice softer now.
I didn't know why, but the question made me nervous.
"What?" was all I could manage.
"Are you really sorry for what you did?"
There was a double meaning behind the question, but I didn't want to play this game.
"Y-yes. That was uncalled for, and I had no right to put you in that position." I looked away, embarrassed.
"Would you have a fox apologise for attacking its prey?" His head cocked to the side out of curiosity and he was too quiet as he approached me. Not a part of him made any sound.
"What do you mean?" What was he getting at?
He stepped into my space, close — really close — until I had nowhere else to look but at him. His scent was intoxicating, and my breathing hitched as he leaned over me.
"The way you overpowered me was impressive, Vixen. Why would you apologise for naturally being a good vampire?"
My eyes widened, lips parting — and his gaze dropped to them. His expression changed and he took a step back. I tried not to sigh in relief. He was too much, too intoxicating and I was too emotionally messed up to be getting involved with him like this. How do I even wrap my head around the fact he turned me into a vampire. My life was changed because of him.
My life was saved because of him.
As if he could sense my discomfort, he walked back and sat down on a computer chair, motioning for me to sit on the couch. Only then could I take in my surroundings. It was a small homemade studio — his sanctuary.
The warm glow of the desk lamp behind him spilled across a corner where a digital piano sat; its keys worn smooth from years of use. Sheet music was scattered dramatically across the stand, inked over with edits, scribbles, and doodles in the margins. A faint tang of cedar and leather lingered in the air, mixed with the residual sharp metallic tang of the guitar strings next to me on the couch.
Several guitars leaned against the far wall — some acoustic, some electric. Their polished wood caught the black light, illuminating them in a haunting blue. I recognised the electric guitar he'd used when he played at Club Dusk several nights ago, though it only seemed like last night. Cables looped loosely around stands, picks scattered on a small wooden table, half-buried beneath notebooks. A black chalkboard stood nearby, lyrics and random words scrawled across its surface. A single whisky glass, amber liquid still sloshing faintly inside, sat near the amp. That explained the sharp tang of alcohol lingering in the air — and on Darien earlier.
The walls were painted in gothic Art Nouveau–style graffiti. Vines and thorns, threaded with roses, curled across the walls. There was a wolf, of course. It was white with grey fur, just like the one I had seen in the Veil. Beneath its face, a scroll read: Terror, Conquer, Rule. Yet purple spray paint slashed across its eyes, and in white, written by hand, were the words: Courage, Defy, Rebel — a complete contrast.
The main colours of the room were blacks, greys, and whites, with purples standing out in defiance.
I noticed the faint hum of the computer behind him and the quiet vibration of the electronics — a subtle background rhythm that felt almost like the heartbeat of the room. The warmth of the space contrasted with the storm of guilt and confusion thrumming inside me. It was intimate, lived-in, entirely him — and I found myself relaxing despite everything.
Darien leaned back in his chair, a long-sleeved black cable knit jumper stretched across his shoulders, the edges frayed and ripped in places, as if it had lived as hard as he had. Tight black leather trousers hugged his hips and I quickly had to look away from the area below. Bare feet rested lightly on the floor, toes flexing against the rug, grounding him in the space. Every detail — the worn fabric, the soft shadow of his wild wavy hair, the faint scent of cedar and leather — pulled my attention despite myself.
"Like what you see?" he asked with a small grin. Dammit. I tried to act like the question was about the room.
"Yes, I can see why you would shut yourself up for days in a room like this." I recalled our conversation at the club. He looked amused by my recollection but moved on.
"So, I guess I am going to have to give you a 101 on how to be a vampire." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "Well, I think you already have the skills of a great predator." He rubbed his neck where I had bitten him. Heat flushed to my cheeks.
"I'm guessing you have a lot of questions. Perhaps we can start there."
He waited for me to respond, and yes, I did have questions — but how do you choose which one? How are vampires real? How has no one ever discovered they exist until now? In a modern society where social media and phones are everywhere, it seemed incomprehensible. Then there were the personal questions. What happens to me now? Where do I go? I don't have any money.
Darien was actually being patient with me as millions of questions spun around in my head. He never said anything; he just sat there while I struggled to come up with even one question on the spot. The silence became deafening, awkward, until I finally tried to blurt something out — but one question tangled with another, and what I ended up asking was:
"How are you even possible?"
That's it. Ground, just swallow me up now and don't ever let me come out.
I think what I meant to ask was how vampires exist. At least Darien found me amusing, because he chuckled.
"I am flattered by the compliment, really. But I'm going to assume you mean vampires and how they exist? Hm?"
I nodded, eyes closed, sucking in the inner part of my bottom lip in embarrassment.
"A natural question, really. It's actually the same question humans have. We don't truly know. All we know is that the first group of vampires suddenly appeared over a thousand years ago. They branched across Europe and Asia, creating the six clans." I watched him as he recalled his history.
"So they just appeared? No idea what happened before that? Where exactly did they appear?"
"What is known as modern-day Iraq — though to historians it was just outside Babylon. Originally, there were seven families under one clan: the Zul-Ithra Sil'Vaen. In common tongue, the Blood Star."
He looked at me knowingly, one eyebrow raised. I froze as the intricate image flashed before my eyes. The star… the bursting star from my vision. It was a vampire clan symbol, which meant—
"Yeah, I think you know the rest."
He stood and walked to the chalkboard, holding out a piece of chalk to me. I stood as well and slowly approached him — hesitant, scared. I had never drawn in front of anyone before. At least, not these drawings.
I took the chalk from his hand, and he smiled in encouragement. Then he picked up his brush and wiped away his lyrics and notes, making me feel guilty in case that had been his progress.
Standing before the board, I closed my eyes. Each symbol flashed before me. When I opened them again, I began sketching them in a circle: wolf, eye, flower, owl, forest, and flame. Then I drew the star at the centre. Crude in chalk, yet I still captured the personality of each symbol.
Darien stayed silent the entire time, watching me draw, his eyes calculating.
"Impressive. That was from memory?" he finally asked.
"Not exactly. They appear in my visions — like flashes in my eyesight. When I wake after being in the Veil, they demand to be drawn. I don't have a choice; otherwise, they haunt me. It was a happy accident and relief the day I scribbled them into my notebook in college."
I didn't know if he could tell how relieved I felt finally saying that aloud. It had been such a secret. Then I paused.
"Wait — so these symbols I've been drawing, seeing, even interacting with… are vampire clans? How the hell have I been drawing vampire clans when I didn't even know vampires existed?"
"Ah, herein lies the puzzle. I've been pondering that myself — even made a few calls. I believe you carry the bloodlines of a dhampir, one claimed by the Gwaed Gwrach — the Blood Witches. They are known to be seers."
He pointed at the eye.
"Blood Witches," I repeated, staring at the eye.
"It's just a theory. We would have to trace your ancestry to even see. If the Blood Witches have been following your bloodline, they might know. Or -" his eyes sparkled mischievously, "it was a dirty little secret." I smiled back and looked at the board and the seven symbols.
"So they all have names then? You said the Blood Witches were Gwayd Grack?"
A quiet chuckle escaped him as he stepped closer.
"Gwaed," he corrected softly. "It's Welsh, they are mainly based in the United Kingdom. Gwah-ed."
The word sounded richer in his accent, the syllables rolling warm and smooth in a way that made heat run through my body.
I tried again, more carefully. "Gwah-ed."
His eyes flicked to my mouth before meeting my gaze again. "Better."
He tilted his head slightly. "Gwrach." The last sound caught low in his throat, rough like wolf growl.
I swallowed. "Gwrach."
"See?" he murmured. "Not so difficult. You can be taught."
"The cheek," I replied, rolling my eyes. "What about the rest?"
He spent several minutes teaching me the names of each clan, patiently correcting my pronunciation. I asked whether they preferred their official clan names or the English translations used.
"Yes and no. It depends on the generation. For example, my clan — Sange Varcolac — the older generation use the official Romanian name. The newer generations just call us wolves."
"Wait, Romanian? As in Dracula, Vlad the Impaler? Was he one of us?" I asked.
Darien frowned and sighed.
"Dear gods, I wish mortals would leave that man alone. He was as mortal as they come. Dracula simply means 'Son of the Dragon,' or 'Son of Dracul,' which was his father, Vlad the Second. The man enjoyed impaling people, and some Irish author decided that made him a vampire. Honestly."
I clapped a hand over my mouth, shoulders shaking as laughter escaped anyway. Darien watched me, bemused, before his mouth curved into a reluctant smile.
"Been keeping that in long? Feel better now?" I asked, giggling.
"It's a pet peeve for many of us. I'm hardly the only one. Don't get me started on modern media portrayals — we'd be here for hours," he teased.
"I don't doubt it."
His eyes caught the light, flashing violet, and it completely threw me off guard. They were beautiful. I realised I'd been smiling at him far too long. Heat crept up my neck and I cleared my throat, looking away in embarrassment.
He didn't seem fazed, reacting as though nothing awkward had happened.
"Ah — that reminds me. There's something I want to show you… well, test you on. Come with me."
He turned, and I followed him out of his sanctuary.
*******************
We walked through the main door of the living quarters and down a flight of wooden stairs. They weren't too old; only a soft creak followed each step as we descended. At the bottom, Darien pushed open a heavy door, and I paused, drawing in a breath as I stared at the altar where he had placed me when he brought me here. He really did live in an old, converted church.
The irony wasn't lost on me. Old superstitions colliding with everything I thought I knew about vampires. In fact, I couldn't help wondering how much else I had wrong.
A faint hint of bleach lingered in the air. The altar had been recently scrubbed clean. I stopped in front of it and stared. My breath hitched.
This was where I had died. The old me. The human me.
A sudden wave of grief swept through me, sharp and unsteady. Tears slipped down my cheeks, and when I felt Darien's cautious presence beside me, I trembled.
"You remember," he whispered.
I nodded.
"I'm sorry, Elena."
I looked up at him, and from the pain in his eyes I knew this had affected him deeply too. I wondered what sacrifices he had made to give me this new life. Automatically, I wanted to say it's okay. And yet—how could it be? Was it okay that he saved my life? Yes, it was. But I wasn't okay with how he had done it. What kind of life was waiting for me now? I simply smiled faintly and nodded at him.
He watched me for a moment, then tipped his head towards the main door. However, when we reached it, he veered away towards another—a side door I hadn't noticed properly before.
It opened with an awful, echoing creak, revealing a stone spiral staircase winding upward into darkness. He began to climb and I followed.
At the top, he pushed open a trapdoor and we stepped out onto the landing of the bell tower. There was no bell. No ceiling. Just open air and the cold, cloudy night of Averon City stretching above us. I glanced down at my T-shirt, half expecting the chill to bite through me, but it didn't. Vampire reasons, I supposed.
I moved towards the edge where windows would once have been, now nothing but open stone frames, and looked out over the south side of the city. For once, it wasn't raining. The streets were still slick, but the air itself was dry. On this side of the river, the streetlights cast a warm, old-fashioned golden glow, as though this part of the city had been left behind in time and never quite caught up.
Across the water, I could see the North Side—colder, sharper, lit up in pale light. Always changing. Always being rebuilt. Funding always went into making it more modern, more efficient… more of an eyesore. I supposed I preferred the South Side. It had more character. More history. More stories that felt worth remembering. Speaking of stories...
"What happened to the bell… and the ceiling?" I asked, watching Darien as he moved in a distant corner, sorting through something I couldn't quite see.
He didn't look at me when he answered.
"Fire," he said. "About twenty years ago. The Church of St Dymphna was built in the 1870s. An attempt to bring some unity to the South Side—lost souls, that sort of thing."
He paused briefly, like the memory wasn't his, just something he'd inherited.
"Some negligent teenagers snuck in here for a drink and a smoke. The interior was mostly wood. It didn't take much." His voice stayed calm, almost detached.
"It burned out completely. They never had the funds to restore it properly after that. Eventually, the church was closed."
I glanced up at the open sky where a ceiling should have been.
"When did you move in?" I asked.
"A month ago," he replied. "It was up for sale—advertised as planned demolition and rebuild. I bought it as it was and refurbished the living quarters. Fixed what I could of the fire damage. I wasn't going to put the bell back in."
"And no ceiling?" I asked, turning to face him. I leaned back against the window frame, letting my hand drift lazily towards the open sky.
"No," he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "And there's a reason for that."
He stood then, a faint smile forming as he looked at me properly for the first time in a while.
"How about we test your vampire sight?"
I raised my eyebrows, caught off guard. My vision had already felt… different. Sharper. Like the world had quietly adjusted itself without telling me.
He crossed the space between us and turned me gently, guiding me to face the city. His hands steadied my arms as he set my stance.
"Chin up," he said near my ear. "Above the skyline. I want you to focus on the stars."
I glanced back at him, sceptical. Stars were almost a joke in Averon City—something you knew existed more than something you actually saw. Between the light pollution and the endless cloud cover, the night sky was usually just a muted ceiling of grey.
"You're kidding, right?" I muttered. "What, I'm supposed to just… see through clouds?"
A quiet sound left him—almost amusement.
"We don't have X-ray vision," he said. "The stars are still there. The light is still there. The clouds just break it apart. You're not forcing your way through anything. You're finding what remains."
That made no sense to me.
"Easier said than done," I grumbled, turning my attention back to the sky.
All I could see was cloud. Layers of it. Soft, shifting greys that stretched endlessly above us. I tried harder. Focused. Forced my gaze into it as if intensity alone might change something.
Nothing.
If anything, it gave me eye strain. Frustration crept in, and I let my head dip with a small, defeated breath.
"Elena," Darien said quietly.
The way he said my name made me still.
"You're still trying to move the clouds," he murmured. "You can't. Look for the light."
I inhaled slowly and looked up again, but this time I stopped fighting the sky. I stopped trying to change it.
I just… looked.
And at first there was nothing.
Only cloud.
Then—something small.
A pinprick. So faint I almost dismissed it as imagination.
"I see one," I said quickly.
"Good," he said softly, right beside me now. "Hold it. Don't lose it."
So I did.
I held onto it. Carefully. Almost nervously, as if it might vanish if I blinked too hard. And something shifted—not in the sky, but in me. The cloud didn't move. It didn't part. It simply stopped being the only thing there.
Another point of light surfaced. Then another.
Then more, until my breath caught in my throat and I realised I wasn't looking at a cloud cover anymore. I was looking at depth.
The sky was still clouded, still imperfect, but now it felt thin against something far greater—stars pressing gently through it, patient and endless, as if they had always been there waiting for me to notice properly.
Tears blurred my vision without warning, but I didn't look away.
I couldn't.
A laugh broke out of me halfway into something unsteady, almost a sob, because it was too much and not enough all at once.
The Milky Way stretched faintly through the gaps, soft and impossible, and distant planets held their places with a kind of quiet certainty I could feel more than understand.
I didn't know which planets were which. I didn't need to. It felt like the world had widened in a way I hadn't realised it was closed before. Like I had been standing in a room my whole life and only now noticed the door had always been open.
"I see them, Darien," I whispered. "They're beautiful."
He was still beside me. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost brushing against my ear.
"Describe it to me."
I hesitated.
"Can't you see them too?" I asked.
"Of course," he said. "But I want to hear what has you so… captivated."
I stilled at that, resisting the urge to look at him. Instead, I kept my gaze fixed on the sky, swallowing before I spoke.
"I feel… overwhelmed," I admitted quietly. "There are so many of them. Billions, of course. They're so far away, and yet…" I trailed off, searching for the right words. "Their light feels close. Comforting. Like it's reaching out to me."
My voice softened.
"And even though I've lost… being human…" I hesitated again, the words catching slightly, "seeing them like this—it doesn't feel like I've become something monstrous."
A pause settled between us.
"A monster," Darien repeated softly.
And for the first time, there was something in his voice that sounded almost like surprise.
It caught me off guard.
I glanced down—
And cried out.
The city rushed in all at once.
Buildings, lights, people—everything crowded my vision. Figures blocks away felt as though they stood just across the street. Lights flared too bright, too close, blinding, while every crack and dent in the stone seemed sharpened, magnified beyond sense.
I squeezed my eyes shut, hands flying up to cover them.
"Damn it," Darien muttered under his breath.
His hands were suddenly on my face, steadying, grounding.
"Easy, Vixen. Easy. You pushed too far—that's all. Rookie mistake. Happens."
His voice softened slightly.
"I should've warned you to come out of it slowly."
My eyes watered as I tried to open them again. Light still burned behind my lids—white circles flashing and pulsing, like the aftermath of a camera flash, only worse. So much worse.
I turned my head, searching blindly for something—anything—to steady myself.
Darien's hand shifted to my chin, guiding it upward.
"Look at me."
I forced my eyes open. At first, everything blurred—but then I caught it.
His eyes.
That soft, unnatural glow of violet in his irises.
I focused on it, clinging to it.
And slowly—very slowly—the chaos eased. The light faded. The world settled back into something I could hold.
"What the hell was that?" I breathed.
"Vampire sight," he said. "At full intensity. I should've told you to ease out of it. That's on me."
He looked almost… embarrassed. That, more than anything, made me smile.
"It's okay."
He didn't look convinced.
"No, really," I added, a small laugh escaping me. "It was just… insane. Like flying through the city with some high-powered telescope."
A quiet chuckle left him.
"Accurate," he said. "And not bad for your first attempt."
I smiled, a little shy now. "Thank you for teaching me."
"Well," he said lightly, "I'm in it for the long haul. Comes with the territory of siring you."
I flinched slightly. I wasn't sure I'd ever get used to that word.
"Is that a thing, then?" I asked. "You have some kind of… ownership over me?"
He blanched immediately.
"Dear gods, no. Nothing like that." He shook his head. "I just feel responsible. More like a mentor, if anything. You're free to leave whenever you want. I just figured you might need a bit of… monster 101 before you do."
He said it so casually. Like it didn't matter either way. Something in my chest dipped at that.
I looked away, back out over the city, quieter now.
We didn't have a relationship. Not really. This wasn't anything defined—just a string of bizarre events that had left us temporarily orbiting each other. A situationship, if anything.
Still… it felt strange to think how easily that could end. I heard him clear his throat.
"So," he said lightly, "fancy getting back on the horse? I set up some chairs. Even managed to find a couple of beers."
I glanced over—and sure enough, tucked into one corner were two lounge chairs and a small bucket with a few bottles nestled in ice. This hadn't been spontaneous. Something about it felt… practised. Familiar. I had the distinct impression this was one of Darien's favourite pastimes.
"The more I get to know you, Darien, the more fascinating you become," I said, a small smile tugging at my lips. "Do you do this often?"
He sat down, already holding out an opened beer towards me.
"From time to time," he replied.
I took it and lowered myself into the chair beside him.
"Everyone has their own way of relaxing," he added, taking a swig. "What's yours?"
I followed his lead, lifting the bottle to my lips. The taste surprised me—rich, full, and oddly satisfying in a way that settled somewhere deeper than I expected.
"Well…" I hesitated. "Listening to music, I guess. Staring at my Clarity poster."
He glanced at me, mildly curious. Then my expression softened as another thought surfaced.
"Watching the snow fall in my garden every winter," I said quietly. "I used to lie back and stare up at the sky. It felt like I was flying through the snowflakes."
A small smile found its way onto my face.
"Kind of like this," I added gesturing to the stars.
He smiled back, something softer in it this time.
"No snow yet this year, I'm afraid."
I nodded, a touch glum.
"Well… there's still time," I replied.
He leaned back in his chair, relaxed, and I noticed the shift in his eyes. The violet faded, his pupils widening until they swallowed the colour, leaving only a thin ring behind.
He'd slipped into the sight. I recognised it instantly. So that's what my eyes must look like.
I took another sip of my beer, then leaned back and followed him—letting my vision deepen, the stars quietly revealing themselves once more.
We sat like that for a while, watching the sky, talking in low voices about nothing and everything. Small things. Strange things. The kind of conversation that didn't need structure to exist.
I learned that I could still eat normal food. Darien told me he loved the food in Romania the most—he missed mititei, which he claimed was the best version of a hot dog in the world. I told him about Row's pizza.
He also explained that blood was a different kind of fuel, and without it we would weaken. Going feral was the last burst of energy before what he called the big sleep—our inner hunter taking over when we were running on empty.
"Yeah, and then only the three Fs matter—fight, feed, and fuck," he added casually.
I spat out my beer, coughing, which only made him chuckle. I was almost certain he'd said it just to get a reaction out of me.
I might have to get him back for that.
I also learned that we still needed sleep. That last part became obvious when a heavy yawn caught me off guard.
Darien huffed a quiet laugh and pushed himself to his feet.
"Come on," he said, nodding towards the trapdoor. "Let me show you to your room."
"My room?" I asked, confused. I'd assumed I'd be choosing between one of the three ostentatious couches.
He raised an eyebrow, as if the question itself was ridiculous.
"Yeah. I set one up for you. I didn't keep you there while you transformed—in case of any more…" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Unexpected incidents. Hence the, uh… outfit."
I blinked, taken aback. I hadn't really thought about how much he'd done while I'd been unconscious.
When would he have even had the time? my mind questioned.
Then again… it had only been a few hours since I woke up.
"That's… incredibly kind of you. Thank you," I said, offering him a shy smile.
He dipped his head slightly, returning it.
He gathered the empty bottles, and together we made our way back down—out of the open night, through the narrow stair, and into the quiet warmth of the living quarters.