#balthazar's here too!

[justanotherignot]

[silveyn]

"Wakfu Les gardiens "conept arts

If you're an Eliatrope fan but somehow missed this, I'll post it here as a nod to the Ankama's stylistic peak.

[outeremissary]

This was a originally for a daily prompt list where the prompt was "trust issues," but I feel like I lost the plot a little on the vibe of that list overall. But god I love drawing those weird plants

(version from the original post before I changed my mind about what looked more Decent lmao)

[thebongcloudopening]

baldur's gate 3 roleswap has consumed my mind

[diredeliverance]

I have come to accept that it's impossible for me to know at the beginning of imagining any dynamic I'm interested in where it will actually land in a few months when it starts to settle into its final shape. With that said it's still funny to cook for several months and drift from "this is a pure mutually affectionate True Romance, which is great because I never spend much time on those" to "this is a mess of blind devotion on one side and near contempt mixed with fascination on the other and it will be Lethal before it can ever be mutual." I'm drawn to mess like a moth to flame

[symerr]

a wall of headmate sim headshots while were too lazy to fix our cas poses </3

[yazthebookish]

Maybe I'll spoil you guys and talk about Gwynriel and ACOTAR5 and anything related to it overall. I recently finished my HOFAS reread and have some fresh thoughts. I'll let my thoughts guide me and some of these points I've already addressed in my insta stories yesterday. I just rather share a lengthy post here since I'll only tag under #gwynriel.

I often see arguments about how Gwyn and Azriel can't move the plot forward because the series is centered on the Archeron sisters.

First, that's not true because Sarah is following what she called "a traditional romance route". She's following the same patterns of Nalini Singh, Kresley Cole, and Lisa Kleypas where they publish multiple books in the same series following different couples.

This is fitting for a series like ACOTAR because it's romance-centered. And Sarah have already said that each couple is getting one book and there will likely be more books beyond ACOTAR6.

Saying that doesn't dismiss the importance of the sisters to the story, Feyre already has a trilogy centered on her. The spin-off just follows different characters including the sisters.

I won't try hard to convince people on this because I've already posted almost everything Sarah said about the spin-off series and what's it's about. So if the next book is not centered on an Archeron sister, that's for Sarah to bamboozle the fandom with.

One thing that stuck out to me is when I compared the ending of ACOSF with the scene of Bryce giving Nesta Gwydion and seeming like she left Nesta with a new quest.

First, this is what the text says, and this is Chapter 80, the very last chapter in ACOSF:

Succeeding in the Blood Rite didn't mean the training stopped. No, after she and her friends told Cassian and Azriel most of the details of their ordeal, the two commanders had compiled a long list of mistakes that the three of them had made that needed to be corrected, and the others wanted to learn from them, too. So they would keep training, until they were all well and truly Valkyries. Gwyn, despite the Rite, had returned to living in the library.

1. The Valkyries are not yet a unit.

2. SJM only and specifically highlighted that Gwyn, despite the Rite, returned to living in the library. It was like "hey, remember all the talk Gwyn did about wanting to leave the library after two years? Yeah that's on hold a bit but keep that in mind". She didnt even add Emerie or the other priestesses to that sentence.

With Nesta being left with Gwydion to find out why the 8-pointed star was tattooed on her, I don't think the next book will start with "hey Elain take this sword and deal with it". Who are Nesta's main companions now? Gwyn and Emerie.

I'll be back to the Valkyries but let's just talk about Azriel for a bit.

It is so painfully obvious to me that Azriel is being handed the Illyrian plot on a golden platter. How big or small of a plot it is depends on SJM, but it's important based on the fact that she fleshed out the Illyrian's origins and tied them to the crossover AND making Truth-teller the knife of Enalius.

That is a big deal for an Illyrian like Azriel.

And I quote my friend Lacie on this, it is very poetic for Azriel to be the owner of the knife that originally belonged to the person who freed his own people from the Daglan's clutches, perhaps because he saw his people are more than just slaves to the Daglan—how powerful would it be for Azriel, who loathes his own people, to parallel Enalius.

And for years some people were against Azriel dealing with this plot because he shouldn't make peace with his "abusers", its true his own family and some Illyrians failed him but he is condemning an entire population. Good people like Emerie and Balthazar. Even Rhys's mother, who had valid reasons to hate her people especially as a female, still made sure to make Rhysand connect with his Illyrian heritage and he even goes on to say that his mother didn't forget what they did to her but still loved her people.

If both Cassian and Rhysand (and by extension the author) continue to flag Azriel's hatred of the Illyrians as an issue—then it is a damn big issue for it to be addressed repeatedly.

Okay so to address my final point about Gwyn and Azriel and how they can move the plot forward.

Now I didn't detail out much about what the next book will deal with because that's another post (and I already have a post on that).

All of our theories and predictions are based on information that is available to us. Saying Azriel and Gwyn cannot move the plot forward does not make any sense because the central plot is tied to multiple characters, Archeron or not.

If SJM wants to make a character move the next book's plot forward, she can do it because she's in control of the story. She's in control of the narrative. She's in control of the characters.

The characters are puppets and this is an unfinished story. If some characters would add more value and make for a more interesting story before the others, she can decide on that. If she wants to make Eris the protagonist of the next book, she can easily do that whether the fandom wants it or not.

Let me give you an example of minor characters that pushed the plot forward and became main characters: Yrene Towers and the Hind. These kind of arguments could've been used for them in HOEAB or HOSAB and Pre-TOD. Before HOSAB/HOFAS and TOD, could we have predicted that they would have played a crucial role before those books? Not likely because they had minimal appearances and were not part of the main cast. This is what I'm talking about.

You can't know how a character will contribute to a story until you see how it all unfolds. We can make guesses on the information we have which is why I believe three characters are likely to join the main cast: Gwyn, Emerie, and Eris.

Why is it so easy to accept that Emerie might be sharing a book with an original character like Mor but it's hard to comprehend the fact that Gwyn could also share a book with Azriel? Because Emerie showed up in ACOFAS? To me that's not really a strong argument based on Sarah's writing and what we have in the books, she doesn't really pick based on who showed up the earliest. Here's a good example: Hypaxia, who showed up earlier, didn't even get her own chapters but the Hind did.

And there's one argument I recall about how I need to rely on Nesta to have a plot focused on Gwyn or the Valkyries in the next book. Nesta's arc is clearly not over based on HOFAS, but does that mean she's getting a POV? Not necessarily. I don't think she is. Gwyn is the perfect candidate for us to see what's going on with Nesta post-HOFAS and how they all deal with the Valkyries and whatever Sarah will set up with them.

There is this whole Valkyrie/Illyrian conflict that could be triggered as a result of the Blood Rite, with Ramiel definitely being an important location to explore in the next book, we also have the Pegasi and the Prison and the implications of the crossover. It makes sense to have an Illyrian and a Valkyrie POV to deal with some plots in the next book.

"Gwyn contributes to nothing" we can't know until the book is out. How sure are we that maybe SJM won't connect her to the crossover by making her mysterious father a Worldwalker? Or Prince of Hel? Or an Asteri? Maybe I'm right maybe I'm wrong.

"But Koschei! And the Human Queens!" Koschei will always be a background player pulling on the strings until the final book as it's obvious he is the big bad in the series, unless someone even worse is revealed. But no one is dismissing Koschei or the Human Queens messing around.

Literally what's the point of the story or the fun elements of surprises or plot twists if you need Sarah to list down everything that the next books will deal with. That's not how a story develops to me. I don't need to know everything in advance to just know how it will go. That's like knowing spoilers early on and checking off with each book what happened and what didn't happen. I feel like it's close to how a lot of readers were disappointed with not having enough ACOTAR in HOFAS, because Sarah implied half of the book would be set in Prythian. So by the time the book came out and it wasn't that, people were vocal about it.

In my opinion, SJM set a good foundation for Gwyn's arc to build up on in ACOSF and her arc is not over. We won't get mentions of her still carrying the guilt of her sister's death or not leaving the library after she said she's sick of being there for two years without us seeing resolution for that. She wouldn't be in Azriel's bonus chapter if she is not involved with him.

To conclude, my reread still affirms to me that the next book with an Azriel/Gwyn book. Azriel is clearly being set in the forefront.

[readymades2002]

everyone lets all figure out who is what tarot card together

*crawling on the ground, coughing up blood weakly* everyone please.....please theorize about flower that bloomed nowhere.......with me.......

[emptymasks]

After weeks of drawing, my Supernatural stickers and badges are done and for sale on my Etsy shop! There are far too many characters to have drawn them all, but hopefully at least some of your favourites are here. It was strange given how many years it's been since I first watched the show to be only just now drawing some of these characters for the first time.

Characters available: Abaddon, Adam Milligan, Amara / The Darkness, Anael / Sister Jo, Anna Milton, Arthur Ketch, Ash, Balthazar, Bela Talbot, Belphegor, Benny Lafitte, Billie, Bobby Singer, Cain, Castiel, Charlie Bradbury, Chuck Shirley / God, Claire Novak, Crowley / Fergus MacLeod, Dean Winchester, Demon Dean, Death, Donna Hanscum, Eileen Leahy, Ellen Harvelle, Gabriel, Gadreel, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Jack Kline, Jessica Moore, Jo Harvelle, Jody Mills, Kaia Nieves, Kevin Tran, Lilith, Lucifer, Mary Winchester, Meg / Meg Masters, Michael, Nick, Raphael, Rowena MacLeod, Ruby, Sam Winchester, Samandriel, Tessa.

I also have designed my first standee! It's of Sam/Lucifer from 'The End' episode and is available for pre-order, there's 24 for sale and I'm unsure if they'll ever get a restock as I'm crossing my fingers to just sell those first 24.

I can’t link to my Etsy without risking Tumblr hiding the post from tag search results, but the link is in my pinned post, my carrd, I’m emptymasks on Etsy. Reblogs help support artists more than likes ❤️

[ID: Individual pixel art chibi drawings of 52 characters from Supernatural that are available as chibi stickers drawn with a pixel brush. These drawings are also available as badges where they are placed inside circles to show what they will look like as physical button badges, some of them with plain colour backgrounds and some with 1-3 different pride flags as examples of how you can customise the backgrounds.]

[scoobydoodean]

sorry, i'm genuinely confused by your s6 deancas conflict take. i don't think either is the bad guy but i think cas was doing what he could with what he had. i don't think he was in the wrong but i'm curious to know what you think he could've done to be in the right? be honest and upfront? that would jeopardize his mission and put him on the outs with dean. sure, that happened anyway but he did stop raphael

i've also always been confused by dean's "i was here where were you?" because was he though? when they did find out, they punished him and cut him off instead of idk, strategizing with cas. it was a lose/lose situation for cas from the get-go starting with his decision not to involve dean as much as he could help it because cas did care about him. if the issue was working with crowley, cas ended up double-crossing him anyway. if the issue was being dishonest, well, that's nothing new among the winchesters

anyway, i don't have a favorite between deancas because i could never pick but in s6 i very much sympathized with cas so again, i guess i'm curious what you think he could've done differently. i hope this ask doesn't annoy you too much

Let's separate this into two pieces. 1) What I actually said (i.e. the disk horse I was addressing) 2) The utility of Cas's plan to pop Purgatory.

First, what did I say today based partly on a post I made yesterday?

It’s not remotely hard to see that Cas repeatedly uses Dean without his knowledge throughout the season. But you’d think based on how 90% of destiel shippers talk that Cas was waiting on Dean hand and foot while having his own needs ignored by a callous asshole. That’s literally the story people try to tell you while Cas uses Dean for everything from spells to forced labor to a meat shield for Raphael and Virgil while only showing up when Sam and Dean having a lead on an angel weapon is mentioned. They just erase Cas’s problems in order to misrepresent and reduce Dean down to a mean friend who doesn’t deserve him.

I'm wasn't talking about the plan to pop Purgatory and the conflict that happens over it in 6.20 (we can address that in a moment). I'm talking about how a large chunk of destiel fandom erroneously argues that season 6 Dean is a bad friend throughout the entire season who only cared about Cas being useful to him, when Cas is the one who spends the entire season using Dean without his knowledge. You want to have a conversation about something slightly different, which is fine, but don't conflate two common streams of disk horse about separate things. They have some overlap yes—but don't get it twisted.

What could Cas have done differently?

Cas could have asked to use Dean's blood for a spell instead of yanking his wrist over and cutting his palm open for blood without a word, but instead, he did it without asking (and that small act sets the stage for how Cas treats Dean the entire season). Cas could have asked if Sam and Dean would look for leads for him on angelic weapons. He could have asked them if they would look for leads on Purgatory instead of secretly cosigning Crowley coercing them into forced labor capturing alphas. He could have asked them if they would keep Raphael and Virgil off his tail long enough for him and Balthazar to collect their weapons. Instead, Cas used them without their permission or knowledge. All Dean asks in these moments is to be told that Cas needs his help instead of being used without permission.

You seem certain that giving Sam and Dean any information would have "jeopardized his mission"... but how? Setting aside the actual utility of Cas's plan to pop Purgatory for now, Cas actually could have communicated what he needed in every single one of these situations without revealing his plan to pop Purgatory. In fact, that's exactly what he did with Balthazar, isn't it? But again—we're talking about two slightly different things here. EYE was talking about whether or not it's true that Dean was a mean and bad friend who didn't care that Cas needed help and never offered him assistance while Cas moped like a wet cat, back aching from bending over backwards to help Dean with *looks at notes* something. EYE pointed out that Cas absolutely did not fail to make Dean useful to him. He just didn't bother to tell Dean he was doing it. YOU are talking about whether or not the Cas's plan to pop Purgatory was the only viable solution to the Raphael problem and whether Dean should have supported Cas despite everything when the plot was revealed in 6.20. Again—this is a separate (though somewhat interrelated) discourse.

Despite all the crying about Bad Friend Dean, it was Cas who showed through his behavior throughout the season that he would rather treat Dean as a pawn than as a friend. Cas coerces and lies instead of just asking his friend for help. Forgive me if I'm not going to coddle him over it. If you've been in this fandom for a single moment, you know that the fanon fantasy of Dean being a horrible bad mean friend with a angelic guardian waiting on him hand and foot starts long before 6.20 when Dean rejects the finally revealed plan to pop Purgatory, and the whitewashing of Cas's actions and outright denial of Cas using Sam and Dean also starts long before then. So lets not move goal posts. I'm asking people to stop ignoring and misrepresenting every single thing that happened between Dean and Cas leading up to 6.20. I'm asking people to stop assigning all of those things only selective importance (i.e., they're only important when Dean was the "bad friend", but when Cas was, it didn't matter/didn't happen).

Now let's talk about "the plan to pop Purgatory" briefly and the utility of that plan and whether Dean not jumping to help Cas swallow every soul in Purgatory makes him a bad and mean and terrible friend. Multiple people in Cas's life tried to tell him his plans would backfire, and he didn't listen. He ended up starting an apocalypse which was the very thing he was trying to prevent. He just traded out Raphael for the Leviathan and made no meaningful progress toward an actual improvement in terms of "threats to the world as we know it". How exactly did he make anyone better off?

For some reason, some people insist on arguing that while it did backfire spectacularly, it was "the only option" to dispense with Raphael and "there was no other choice", but nobody saying that actually knows that. In fact from a meta/lore perspective, this is just... outright wrong. Archangels have been dealt with in any number of other ways over the course of the show. The Cage. A weird ass egg. The archangel sword. Spellwork. You can invent whatever goddamn lore you want. You cannot reasonably argue it was "the only option" when archangels repeatedly show up and are dispensed with in a variety of ways that aren't "swallowing all the souls in purgatory, going insane, declaring yourself god, and starting a new apocalypse so we're right back where we started".

The only reason "popping Purgatory" is the only plan we get in season 6 is that it's the only plan that Cas allows to be made. He refuses to so much as consider the possibility of anything else because he's so deeply caught in sunk cost fallacy. When Sam and Dean and Bobby finally learn what he's up to and disagree with his plan, Cas breaks Sam' brain to keep them out of his way. When Balthazar disagrees with his plan, Cas murders him.

i've also always been confused by dean's "i was here where were you?" because was he though? when they did find out, they punished him and cut him off instead of idk, strategizing with cas.

...No? It was the other way around.

6.20

Dean tried to get info on what was going on with Cas from 6.03 when he learned about the angelic war onward, and Cas would give vague answers then fly off. In 6.10, Dean asked if there was anything he and Sam could do and Cas said there wasn't. When he found out about Cas working with Crowley, Dean asked to brainstorm a new solution and work as a team and Cas refused to consider this for a single moment. He insisted nothing about his plan was broken despite multiple people warning him, and his own secret-keeping suggested his own conflicted feelings.

[mammalsofaction]

Missing You

Rating: T

Relationships: Heinz Doofenshmirtz/Perry the Platypus, Balthazar Cavendish/Vinnie Dakota

Add tags: Takes place between Escape and Milo in Space, Perryshmirtz centric, human Perry the Platypus, post break up arc, post confessional and apology, making up and making out in an open plan room with pre teens in them, everything is good and going right and will go absolutely horrendously wrong in a couple of moments, if you ignore the fact that they're all looking for a pre-teen abducted by aliens you can pretend this is fluff, OLD MAN YAOI!!!!!!!!!!, simp Perry, I was only meant to hurt you in the right way 🥺

"How did you know we were here, anyway?"

Perry had not exactly been hiding, but he feels found anyway, his smile involuntary as a kid who finds himself caught in game of tag in a school playground. Heinz approaches him carefully, arms tucked behind his back like he's keeping himself in check, so Perry stills himself, remembering that it isn't quite his place to reach out now, not anymore.

Carl, he signs--the C sign blending into the leader sign, pinching the tips of his left hand with the curl of his right. Heinz let out a little Ah, noise, and his eyes downcast. Like he's disappointed.

There is silence between them, as it rarely ever is, and rarer still the awkwardness in the air as they think of all the words they should be saying, that should be said, and how to say them. Perry consoles himself with the fact that Heinz had at least yet to leave, but he leaves a gap between them like a gulf Perry isn't sure how to bridge.

It isn't often that Heinz Doofenshmirtz is ever lost for words, so Perry--as he always does--meets him in the middle.

Did you get my card? He asked, because he needed to know. Because he'd worried about it endlessly since he'd sent it, because it had kept him awake at night, thinking if it was too much, or too little.

But Heinz smiles by the mention of it, baby blue eyes sparkling under the alien fluroscence, and all at once it was worth it.

"That you sent through Vanessa?" Heinz chuckles, confirming. "Foul of you, Perry the Platypus, using my daughter to send our messages back and forth like some sort of owl postman. She's got better things to do with her time, you know."

He did know. Vanessa had consented anyway, had in fact been loudly enthusiastic with the idea once she found out about their current disagreement, and had loudly scolded Perry for being a 'Dumbass idiot who shouldn't be keeping things to himself when they've all established the fact that communication was what kept this relationship from falling apart despite literally both of your entire careers.'

Having only sent the one card had been an act of restraint. On his worst nights, Perry had imagined breaking into the Murphy residence on the other side of town and crawling on his knees for forgiveness, but even after all this time, he was still too afraid of showing his belly even to the people he loved.

I did, you know, he tells him, because he couldn't let himself be vulnerable then, and the next best time was now. Miss you.

"Yeah," Heinz said. "I-uh. I missed you too. Probably Vinnie could tell. The kids, too."

Vinnie, huh? Perry teased, to hide the sudden heartache, and that all too familiar snarl of jealousy. Didn't realize you guys were on a first name basis.

Heinz gives him a look like he could tell, anyway. Perry pulls at his collar, blushing.

Sorry, he signs.

Heinz sighs. "It's whatever. We were just two lonely guys looking to distract ourselves from our missing other halves, I suppose."

Perry chooses to latch on to the latter half of that sentence. I'm your other half?

Heinz stares at him, his hands, then back into his eyes. "You're kidding, right?"

I didn't think, Perry's hands flutter, and fails him. I thought you'd, I thought I'd really,

But then it didn't matter what he couldn't say, because Heinz bridges the gulf himself, and Perry feels the kiss, before he'd even caught his move, and even after all this time their lips fit together like puzzle pieces, and Perry falls forward like a broken stone wall.

Missing you, he had written on the card, because it had been the most accurate plead he could think of. You were missing from me.

It's deep, but brief, on account of being met with a chorus of loud protests and jeers from their unwilling audience, and Zack Underwood yelling loudly, and pointedly, that this spaceship was open plan, people, come on. Perry pulls away first, chuckling and feeling lighter than he has for months, while Heinz rolled his eyes. He does not, at least, take his hand away now that it has settled into Perry's hip, and he feels so happy he could die. He buries his face into Heinz's shoulder as he scolds the children for interrupting an adult conversation, while Melissa Chase comments lightly that, technically, the bathroom was closed off.

"Bathroom for adult conversations, got it." Dakota quips, and Cavendish hits him over the head without even looking up from where he's handling the ship's hull control.

"I'm 14!" Underwood shrieks in an impressive high tone as Perry begins to laugh. Poor stranded boy in space aside, he thinks things are really starting to look up.

[sunshinebingo]

OMG I LOVE THIS FIC!!! 😍 This video fits it so so well

New chapter of Hot Girl Summer on AO3

And I was feeling very productive, so I made a little trailer for it! Because... why not! Better with the sound on 🔊

All footage and music from Artlist. If you're an ACOTAR fanfic writer and might be interested in something like this, lets talk 😉

[outeremissary]

Silly doodle from a few days ago, before the Illness befell me. I wish I had Vio's disease healing tears. (And Vio, as always, belongs to @mountainashfae)

(lines)

[fieldofdaisiies]

@zenkindoflove did this first so this is totally inspired by her and I really hope it is okay I did it too. She created those absolutely adorable pictures for Eris and her OC Alexius - you can check them out here!!💛

I decided to do them as well for the main characters of my three larger fics (the Elucien one is coming soon; in August hehe):

Elucien - coming soon

Azris - A Court of Covert Desire

Gwyn x Balthazar - A Court of Fate and Healing

[fangsandfeels]

Maybe I was doing something wrong or missed some dialogue options, but I feel like we lack interactions and insights from one of the most interesting camp residents -- Dame Aylin. Like, not only she is an immortal divine being (and I have so many questions), but she is also a divine being with severe PTSD. Isobel keeps referring to her state of mind and her need for rehabilitation, and I can only imagine how wild can it be when the whole camp is dealing not just with a traumatized POW, but a traumatized POW with godly powers.

And how all the camp is grateful that Isobel is here because whenever Aylin has a nightmare or an episode where she thinks she is back in that place or goes through a vivid memory of Balthazar ripping her wings off, Isobel is the only one who can get through to her, while anyone Aylin doesn't recognize risks getting four-degree moonburns.

Also, it raises an interesting point to explore - an immortal, a transcendent being who was previously unfamiliar with such concepts as time and mortality, now is faced with a whole bunch of burdens (good and bad) mortals have to bear. It all started with loving a mortal woman, then mourning her death -- and then, along with the happiness of getting reunited with her lover, Aylin also deals with pain that doesn't simply go away. She is her mother's warrior, her will was never broken, and she is as strong as ever. But at the same time, she is hurt and scarred, and for some reason, striking down another greedy wizard craving her immortality made her feel tired rather than triumphant. How confusing it must feel to someone like her. Scary even. It's all too complicated for immortal beings -- and, what's interesting, Aylin has no regrets despite it all. She accepts these fragments of mortality, even though they cut her till she bleeds, because it brings her closer to Isobel. Somehow, I imagine she will no longer be taking month-long walks, acutely wary of every minute she spends with her love.

[theladyofbloodshed]

And a bonus Halloween fic especially for @vadutton21.

Almost 7000 words, featuring Nesta Archeron as Mina Harker, Cassian as Count Dracula, and Jurian as the vampire hunting Doctor Van Helsing.

It had been a long time since a letter had come. Nesta Harker tracked her sister’s journey upon the large map in the drawing room. On the first of October, Feyre had penned a letter in Munich detailing her journey from London to the Bavarian capital. The following day, her train had been delayed so she arrived in Vienna later than expected. The letters had arrived together, despite the dates on them. Feyre’s journey had then taken her to Budapest where she had written that she felt the divide between the west and the east.

Nesta had not wanted her sister to go. It was not for a woman to take on their father’s business upon his death, but Feyre – headstrong to her core – had insisted upon becoming a lawyer like him. It was at the request of Count Cassian of Transylvania that Feyre was travelling to Romania, so that she could assist him in purchasing a home in London, along with all of the bureaucracy that it entailed. There had always been a restless spirit to her sister. Her excitement was clear in her words as she wrote of the Carpathian Mountains. At the bottom of the paper, Feyre had sketched the view, only in black ink, but it was detailed and beautiful.

Then her letters had all but ceased. A final one had arrived eight days ago, dated three weeks earlier, detailing her arrival to Castle Cassian, nestled in the Carpathian Mountains. No more had come. Feyre had promised to write every three days once she arrived to Transylvania. Her business with the count was only to take a fortnight at a maximum then she’d travel back to London by train along the same route. There should have been at least two letters detailing her return.

‘It shall be Lucien.’

Nesta’s eyes snapped to her younger sister who stood beside the window, her brown hair bound in a loose braid as they did not expect to leave the house that day.

‘You have decided then?’

Elain gave a nod then turned on the spot. ‘It is bad business to choose, but I believe Lucien will offer me a stable future and a happy life, more so than the other two.’

She concurred with her sister’s statement. The three men were companions, so she hoped there would be no fall out from Elain choosing Lucien Vanserra to marry. Such was life when one sister was gallivanting across Europe and the other had three men vying for her hand in marriage.

‘Dr Balthazar Seward will be most upset that you will not join him in his asylum.’

Elain shuddered. ‘I cannot see myself as mistress of the asylum.’

‘And Graysen Morris would spirit you away to America if he had his way. He is rough of tongue, but strong of heart though,’ said Nesta. She tidied away Feyre’s letters into a neat pile. ‘Still, when Lord Vanserra dies, Lucien shall inherit the title. We may find that you become Lady Elain.’

***

The three men accepted Elain’s choice well enough. A small, congratulatory party was held where Nesta ducked and dived from her own potential suitors who were keen to sink their claws into her family’s fortune.

‘I should like to escape the city a while,’ she announced to Elain the following morning, shortly after Tomas Mandray had been turned away by the household staff once again. ‘There is too much here clouding my thoughts. I’d like to head north for a while.’

‘Whitby is always perfect at this time of year,’ agreed Elain. ‘What of Feyre, have you heard from her?’

Another few days had trickled by with no letter. That morning, Nesta had sent one of the servants to the post office to have letters sent to the train stations in Paris, Munich, Vienna, and Budapest should Feyre call in there. A few of her father’s acquaintances had businesses across Europe so letters were also sent to them to enquire after Feyre using their contacts. A further letter was sent all the way to Cassian’s castle. If there was no word in another week, Nesta would journey there herself. Her sister could be unwell or mislaid her purse so had no finances to rely upon. It could simply have been that she was having a grand time in Transylvania or had mislaid her ink or parchment.

Together, Elain and Nesta journeyed to the north east coast of England to Whitby where they had a home upon a hill overlooking the sea. In Whitby, they could talk together freely and build their castles in the air. It was dark when they arrived, the sea breeze turning the air colder. But, by the morning, it was calm enough to take a walk along the beach and breathe in the fresh sea air. A commotion was afoot upon the shore for a boat had wrecked in the night. Pieces of splintering wood washed up with each roll of the waves upon the sand.

‘It is the strangest thing,’ one man said, scratching at his bald head. ‘The captain was found bound to the helm, as if to keep the boat on course to the rocks. Not a single body has washed up besides his. Clothing, yes. But not a single member of the crew.’

‘Is that possible?’ Nesta asked.

‘Possible? Not probable. A ship this size would have had a crew of at least fifteen. They should have washed up on the shore by now.’

Nesta hooked her arm with her sister’s, leading her away from the grizzly sight unfolding.

The days in Whitby were far more enjoyable than London. Nesta could take a walk along the high street without needing to avoid suitors. There was a respite from managing her late father’s accounts – although she had brought a few volumes with her to go through with a fine-toothed comb when she had the desire too. Mostly, she whiled away the time at her leisure by either reading or merely sitting in the large window, watching the passers-by. The folk were less refined in the north where labourers were more common. They were friendlier than Londoners too.

With a blush upon her face, Elain entered the lounge. She clutched a letter to her chest.

‘Is it Feyre?’

‘Feyre? Oh, heavens no. Lucien will come tomorrow with Balthazar and Graysen. The servants are preparing rooms for them.’

She cocked a brow. ‘Is that why your cheeks are so aflame?’

‘Not entirely. I have met a most curious man upon the high street. I knew at once from his clothing that he was not from Whitby, nor indeed did I think him from England at all,’ Elain said in such a hurry that she had to suck in a breath. ‘Like that count our sister is assisting, he is also from Transylvania. A most polite and charming man with dark, waves of hair and hazel eyes set against his warm brown skin.’

Nesta folded her arms across her chest in distaste. ‘You have agreed to a marriage with Lucien, if I must remind you. I hope, at least, you received the name of this stranger.’

‘He did not give me his name. He promised to next time we met.’

‘Elain,’ she scolded. ‘You risk a scandal.’

Her sister’s blush deepened. ‘I did not agree to meet him, Nesta. I laughed away his words and returned to the home.’

The news of the stranger unsettled Nesta for a reason that she could not name. She felt as though pieces of a puzzle were coming to her although she could not say if they were all from the same puzzle – or indeed pieces at all. Her sister’s prolonged silence abroad. A strange shipwreck. A man from the same place as Count Cassian here in Whitby too.

Her dreams that night were ill. She dreamt of Feyre lost and wandering in an endless castle. Her dreams had only ended when she heard a window slam. Nesta had hurried at once to Elain’s bedroom where the source of the sound had come from. One of the panes of glass in the window had cracked from the force of it hitting the frame, but her sister slept through it all.

‘The night is too cold to have this window open,’ muttered Nesta, closing it.

It was most unlike Elain to sleep so deeply. For a moment, Nesta remained rooted to the spot to watch her sister’s chest rise and fall then she noticed two raised lumps upon her neck. Her sister’s skin was cold, almost like ice, beneath her palm. The marks on her neck were as if she’d been pricked with a pin and they had bruised around it.

Nesta sent a servant out for a doctor, knowing instantly that her sister was deeply unwell. Elain would not wake, but how she shivered within the sheets. A deathly pallor crawled upon her skin. Even with a stoneware hot water bottle tucked beneath her in the sheets, Elain remained cold and pale.

‘It looks like an animal bite,’ the doctor announced. ‘But of what sort, I cannot name.’

‘Then what use are you?’ The snap in her voice was brittle.

The sun was beginning to bleed into the morning sky, but Elain only grew worse. She writhed in agony until Nesta closed the curtain to block out the light. When Lucien arrived with Balthazar and Graysen, Nesta took a moment to dress herself although she felt tired and adrift with no enthusiasm to face the day.

‘She was well yesterday?’ Lucien asked as he clutched Elain’s limp hand. ‘How can she deteriorate so quickly?’

‘The doctor had no answer for us,’ she admitted.

The three men kept a vigil beside Elain’s beside while Nesta saw to the skeleton staff in their holiday cottage. Breakfast was being prepared as she entered the kitchen. One stopped abruptly at her arrival then pulled a letter from her apron.

‘Ever so sorry, Miss Harker. What with Miss Elain unwell and the arrival of the gentlemen-’

‘It is quite alright,’ Nesta cut in. She took a knife from the counter to slice the envelope across the top.

The cursive was different to their own style. The English was not wholly accurate and there were spelling errors throughout. The news was ill. Feyre had been taken unwell in Transylvania. Following delusions and fever, she was being held in a hospital in Budapest. If Elain had not been so poorly, Nesta would have taken the first ferry from Newcastle to Amsterdam to seek out Feyre. She was trapped here between a rock and a hard place; forced to choose between two sisters.

Lucien arrived downstairs, a frown pulling his brows together. ‘This illness is most unusual. If I may, a friend of mine is a doctor. He lives only in Scarborough. He can be here within the hour.’ At her nod, Lucien continued. ‘Are you well yourself, Nesta?’

‘Yes. I have my health although it seems both of my sisters do not.’

She handed him the letter to read.  

‘What will you do?’

‘What can I do? One sister is safe in hospital thousands of miles away, the other is in touching distance, ailing from a sudden illness that has no cause.’

‘We will find the cause – and the resolution,’ Lucien said gently, before departing to call upon his friend in Scarborough.

Elain grew worse as the minutes ticked by. There was a blueish hue to the skin beneath her eyes and the tips of her fingers remained cold even as Nesta rubbed them between her warm hands. The bedroom grew stiflingly warm with the window closed and fire burning. Elain’s rejected suitors, both Graysen and Balthazar, remained holding their vigil in the bedroom.

When Lucien returned, a sweat upon his brow as though he had run to them, the doctor was not at all what Nesta was expecting. In fact, she had half a mind to ask if he truly was a doctor. He came without the usual clean, leather bag but a well-worn brown satchel instead. His hair was not combed neatly – if combed at all – and fell to his chin in loose waves. He was young, perhaps newly qualified, so Lucien’s love for his friend was likely clouding his judgement of the doctor’s abilities.

‘This is Doctor Jurian Van Helsing, a trusted friend and experienced doctor.’

Jurian did not bother greeting them, but strode forwards to Elain’s bedside. His fingers went to her chin and Nesta had been about to complain because there was dirt beneath his short nails when he turned her head to inspect the marks there. His hand stole away to his satchel as if to reach for something then he stopped.

‘Last night?’

‘Yes,’ said Lucien, glancing to Nesta. ‘We arrived this morning but Miss Harker found Elain unwell in the night.’

Jurian’s dark eyes roved over Nesta. ‘What did you see?’

‘What on earth does this have to do with my sister’s illness?’

‘Everything.’

Nesta recounted hearing the window slam after her strange dreams. Jurian pressed her on any sounds she might have heard and if she didn’t peer out of the glass to investigate.

‘She is dying from acute blood loss.’

‘Dying?’

‘Blood loss?’

Lucien, Graysen, and Balthazar offered themselves up at once for a transfusion, their forearms bared towards the doctor. He claimed it would be pointless although Lucien insisted that they try. He asked for a servant to be sent into the market to bring back as much garlic as possible, including the flowers. When the second man – Doctor Balthazar Seward – had almost finished transfusing his blood to Elain, the servant returned. Jurian, in a most severe manner began tying bulbs of garlic together using thread from Nesta and draping it in front of the window. He tied bunches of garlic flowers into the four corners of the room, more above the door, and even knotted it into a necklace for Elain.

‘Keep the doors and windows locked tonight, Miss Harker,’ he said, voice rough and accented. He spared one look to Elain who remained wasting away in the bed. ‘Sleep apart from your sister. I insist upon it.’

Only the doctor’s warning pried Nesta and the others from Elain’s bedside.

Upon the dawn, Elain had died.

It was in a numb horror that Nesta returned to the lounge where Graysen sat beside her in a chair, forcing a tea into her hands while Lucien put aside his grief to call for the undertaker. Balthazar wrote the letter to Feyre, informing her of Elain’s death where Nesta could not then departed to have the letter sent to the hospital in Budapest.

The doctor called in soon after. Jurian did not appear shocked by the news of Elain’s death nor did it seem she was the reason for his visit. He inspected the men’s necks then came to Nesta. A scowl was upon his face although it seemed to be his regular expression. His hands remained grubby, but they were warm as he tilted her face this way and that, feeling and inspecting the soft skin of her neck.

‘I am sorry for your loss. Such evil must be eradicated.’

‘Evil?’ Nesta leaned forwards in her chair. ‘You know what ailed my sister.’

‘I will not speak of it – but I will see it finished.’

***

For three days after the funeral, Nesta did not leave the home. She wore black and haunted the lounge while servants stepped around her in silence. The foods they offered her remained untouched. Both Balthazar and Graysen returned to London with Lucien following them on the second day after Nesta asked him to leave too.

When twilight began to creep in and mist rolled across the town from the moors, a brisk knock sounded at the door.

The servants did their usual routine and tried to shoo away visitors, but this one was more insistent. Jurian bypassed the footman and sought Nesta out.

‘We must speak at once.’

She blinked at him in shock. The man was put together sloppily; his shirt was open at the collar, exposing a glimpse of bronzed skin and his dark coat billowed out behind him.

‘Doctor Van Helsing, I am in mourning. I will take no visitors.’

‘This is a matter of life and death,’ the doctor replied, bending to a knee before her and gripping her hand. ‘For all that is right in this world.’

When he rose, Jurian took Nesta with him and led her to the window. Lights were scattered upon the horizon as the sun waned. 

‘I want you to believe...to believe in things that you cannot. I ask this of you as a sister to the deceased. We must go to Elain’s tomb with haste.’

The man would not take her refusals. He forced her by the hand from the house and marched her towards the graveyard. Nesta had not wanted her sister buried beneath the ground or returned to London which had never felt like home. Her mother’s family had a marble mausoleum which could be considered beautiful if it were not so macabre. That was where Elain had been laid to rest.

It was only when they reached the iron gates of the graveyard that Jurian lurched out of his coat and draped it around Nesta’s shoulders.

‘There have been stories in Whitby of a Bloofer Lady.’

‘I have not heard of such a thing,’ she replied.

Jurian gave a grim nod. ‘Then I wish I could spare you from the pain, but I cannot. Your sister is one of the undead. A vampire.’

‘A what?’

‘A creature so monstrous that hell does not want it,’ said Jurian Van Helsing in a low, rough voice. ‘Three children have died on three consecutive nights. Each one drained of blood. Each one bearing the same marks as your sister.’

‘You cannot accuse my sister of such a crime, Doctor Van Helsing. Elain is dead.’

The final word choked her. Nesta had not wanted to admit such a thing.

‘Your sister is hungry, Miss Harker. She will drink and drink blood until she is satiated or until her master calls her home.’

‘Her master?’

‘The one who passed the curse to her.’

It was all a lie. Nesta had to believe that it was all make believe. And yet, when Jurian led her to her family’s crypt, they found Elain’s tomb empty. How could it be? Nesta had witnessed the undertaker and his men put her sister’s lifeless body into the mausoleum.

‘This cannot be real.’

‘I assure you, it is. I make it my business to track vampires and kill them.’

Nesta frowned. ‘You are not a doctor at all, are you?’

‘I am a doctor of medicine,’ he confirmed. ‘But when a patient of mine rose from the dead and tried to bury her fangs into my neck, I staked her and her sister through the heart. The supernatural is my calling, Miss Harker, for there is nothing I detest more in this world than the vampire.’

They searched across Whitby for Elain, as farcical as it sounded. For hours, Jurian had her hunt alongside him through every cobbled alley and dingily-lit underpass.

When her feet throbbed, Nesta had half a mind to call it all off, hoping that she’d imagined her sister’s empty tomb. Then, they saw her. Elain, still wearing the pink silk dress that they’d buried her in, had her teeth buried into the neck of a small boy with fair hair.

Jurian’s hand clamped across her mouth to keep from crying out. In his other, he brandished a crucifix at Elain.

Elain Harker, but yet how changed. The sweetness was turned to adamantine, heartless cruelty, and the purity to voluptuous wantonness.

Blood streaked her chin as she prised herself away from the child’s neck. He fell limply onto the cobbles, his life spent.

She hissed at the crucifix then fled.

They chased her towards the hallowed ground as the dawn leaked into the sky. Nesta could only watch on in horror as Doctor Van Helsing cornered her sister and drove a wooden stake into her heart. Instead of collapsing to the ground or shrieking in pain, Elain turned to ash.

‘To London we must return, Miss Harker,’ said Jurian, wiping the point of the stake upon his trousers. ‘We must discover her creator and destroy him once and for all.’

***

If her sister’s suitors had any knowledge of the supernatural in the way that Doctor Van Helsing did, they remained quiet as the four of them gathered at Doctor Balthazar Seward’s asylum. The cries and shrieks of patients echoed through the walls as they sat around a large table in Balthazar’s office.

‘Is this a place for a lady,’ asked Graysen, the drawl of his accent making his words sound slow.

‘She has a man's brain - a brain that a man should have were he much gifted - and a woman's heart,’ Jurian replied, offering her a heated look. ‘The good God fashioned her for a purpose.’

‘Well, Jurian, you know how to hunt these creatures best,’ said Lucien. ‘How will we find the devil that robbed us of our sweet Elain?’

Nesta tried not to flinch from the violence that came from the man’s lips. He spoke of stuffing garlic in a vampire’s mouth, beheading, dousing them in holy water, or staking them through the heart as they had done to her sister. It had hardly been her sister. Elain had died. Whatever creature had returned to this earth had not been her sister.

‘Careful, Jurian,’ warned Balthazar. ‘You will give Amren an idea.’

‘Amren?’

‘A patient of mine. One who believes by ingesting creatures whilst they are still alive, she can harvest their life force,’ explained Balthazar, shaking his head in dismay. ‘It started with flies and other insects. If rats come to her cell, she eats those raw and wriggling.’

Nesta recoiled at that.

‘No matter what we put in place, birds, spiders, and rats continue to seek her out to be devoured. And just last week, a knife was in her cell although all staff deny supplying it to her.’ Balthazar rolled up his sleeve where a fresh cut was healing, the stitches spitting.

‘Curious,’ murmured Jurian from the seat opposite Nesta. ‘For many years, I have made it my duty to discover the lore of vampires. To be knowledgeable of the enemy is a weapon in itself. It is said some of the strongest vampires have a thrall over creatures like the rat or the bat.’

A knock at the door had them all startling. A worker of the asylum slipped in. ‘Apologies for the disturbance. A member of the Harker staff delivered this letter with utmost urgency for Miss Nesta Harker. It is from her sister.’

For a moment, Nesta’s heart went to Elain – as if she had found a way to communicate from beyond the grave. But she had a second sister who was being nursed to health all the way in Budapest.

Dear Nesta,

I write to you with haste although I fear my words are too late. I was held captive in the home of Count Cassian by three monstrous creatures. Rhysand, Azriel, and Morrigan had acted as friends if not overzealous with their attentions. I was left to them wherein they descended upon me with fangs and claws while he departed for England, my purpose served. Only leaping from the window and running towards the dawn has stopped me from becoming one of them. Rumours of such creatures – vampires – run rife in Transylvania. They are creatures of the dark who drink blood. All of them answer to him.

I write to warn you. Beware of Count Cassian. I fear I shared too much of our family with my host. He was most taken by your portrait. Alert the authorities that he resides at 347 on Piccadilly Street, if they will believe this tale. Do not seek him out. For all that is good in this world, do not seek out Cassian.

Yours,

Feyre.

When Nesta had finished reading, a silence descended upon them, broken only by the faraway cries of Balthazar’s patients of the asylum.

‘Then they are the same,’ Jurian announced. ‘The one that killed Elain is the very same Count Cassian. And I will make it my duty to see him dead once more.’

‘How will it be done?’

‘A vampire can only rest with soil from his home country. Somewhere within his home will be earth from Transylvania. If we destroy it, he will not be able to rest again in England. It will force him to flee to his country.’

‘And then,’ Nesta pressed. ‘What will we do?’

‘I will travel to Romania. I will kill him.’

‘Not alone,’ added Lucien. ‘For Elain, I will go with you.’

‘And I,’ said Graysen and Balthazar in unison.

Nesta sucked in a long breath. ‘As will I.’  

The following day and night was spent busy planning how to enter the home of Count Cassian. Graysen and Lucien had scoped out the home then provided Jurian with a plan of the exterior. The doctor believed Cassian would take to the cellar in the daytimes where a coffin would provide him with respite from the light. It was better for them to attack during the day when the vampire was at his most vulnerable.

‘We shall go this evening, before dark,’ said Jurian. ‘We waste time plotting. Cassian could infect or kill another dozen victims if we continue to allow him to roam the streets of London.’

The men loaded themselves with holy water from the church and sacramental bread. Crucifixes were strapped to them along with bulbs of garlic so they made a strange sight. When it came to the time to depart, Jurian placed a hand upon Nesta’s shoulder. The warmth of his touch seeped through her dark gown.

‘I will not say this is no place for a woman for you have proved to have a mighty heart already, but if Count Cassian is taken by your image, I cannot in good conscience lead you to him.’ Jurian’s fingers squeezed her shoulder. ‘Here, where it is safe, is where you must remain, Nesta Harker.’

Worry knotted in her chest as Nesta bid the men farewell. Balthazar, stoic and serious; Graysen, loud and excited for the action; Lucien, as warm as the sun; and Jurian, rough and determined.

The asylum did not feel safer, not with the haunting sounds leaking from every corridor. She could not remain in the office with her heart so troubled. Would it be Lucien that she would have to run through with a stake next or another?

Nesta wandered the darkened corridors, keeping close to the wall to avoid the outstretched hands of Balthazar’s patients. The walk only made her more unsettled. She had to be mad too if she thought walking the halls of an asylum would soothe her.

The room at the end had a chink of light seeping from it. Nesta took one step closer then froze. It was Amren’s cell; the patient they had spoken of earlier that evening. It was open. The prisoner was released somewhere.

Biting back on her fear, Nesta sprinted back towards Balthazar’s office, her feet hitting the ground hard.

Strong arms gripped her, stopping her from running.

A man, tall and broad, with dark hair slicked back examined her. There was an instinct in Nesta to flee from his grasp although she doubted that she could. His clothes were not that of an inmate, nor were they the fine cut of a gentleman like Lucien. They were leathers for an ancient battle.

‘I have crossed oceans of time to find you.’

Nesta knew at once who this man was: Count Cassian.

'You are mine forever.'

Before she could scream, two large fangs were bared to her then he sank them into her neck.

Pain shot through her veins. There was no ecstasy, no allure to it. Count Cassian gripped her by the hair, holding her still as he drank his fill while Nesta went limp in his arms.

‘And now you must drink from me.’

There was a wound on his chest. The sight of blood streaming from it should have made her recoil. There was a deliberate voluptuousness that was both thrilling and repulsive. His voice was in her mind, echoing through its chambers encouraging her to drink. To drink and to drink deep. And as Nesta arched her neck she actually licked her lips like an animal. What spell had been cast upon her?

‘Be gone, foul beast from the abyss,’ came a shout.

The vampire holding her hissed. Jurian shot an arrow towards them, the bolt embedding into Cassian’s shoulder. Something showered Nesta. For a moment, she’d believed it was blood then realised it was water. Holy water.

The vampire fled into the night.

*** It had been an uncomfortable discussion with the men. Her neck had been thoroughly examined. Jurian had forced her to step into the direct sunlight, convinced she would burn to ash. She could ingest holy water and hold a crucifix as usual. Doctor Van Helsing theorised that upon Nesta’s death, she would turn into one of the undead. Had he been a minute later, perhaps Nesta would have met the same fate as Elain.

The patient, Amren, was discovered dead. The bars on her windows had been bent wide to allow Cassian entry to the asylum. She must have invited him in. Then, he’d drained her of blood, her purpose served.

‘We were successful in destroying the earth from his land. Cassian will have fled to Transylvania – and it is to there that I must travel.’

Lucien laid a hand on Jurian’s shoulder. ‘You cannot mean to go alone, friend. We will see this through to the end.’

When Graysen and Balthazar echoed his sentiment, Nesta added, ‘The world seems full of good men - even if there are monsters in it. I will follow you, Doctor Van Helsing, as far as you will lead me.’

They took the first train out of London to Dover then a ferry across to France. It was growing dark when their train ventured out of Paris. With many hours still to travel, and change required in Munich, three of the men opted to sleep in their carriage. Nesta remained with Jurian in her own one. He was the most equipped to handle her if she turned at any moment into a vampire. Indeed, Jurian kept a crossbow beside him on the long, green seat and a crucifix was around his neck. The countryside sped past in a blur of indigo skies and darkened trees.

‘You ought to sleep, Miss Harker.’ Jurian’s pupils were blown wide by the dim carriage so his brown irises were swallowed by the darkness. ‘I will protect you,’ he vowed. ‘I will not see you become a monster.’

‘I suppose that we women are such cowards that we think a man will save us from fears, and we marry him.’

His fingers flexed. ‘Should you like to marry me, Nesta?’

There was no response she could give that didn’t sound like a lie. Doctor Van Helsing had all the trappings of a distinguished gentleman by name, however he was rough and unkempt the eye. He did not speak with the same level of politeness as Lucien, nor could his casual tongue be explained away as being from across the ocean as Graysen could. Jurian, for lack of a better word, was rugged. Her mother would roll in her grave if she knew that Nesta even entertained a thought of marrying Jurian. He certainly was not a man who could provide her a stable home or the future her parents wished for her – but what was a future without Elain, or with the knowledge that these blood-drinking creatures roamed freely? Couldn’t Jurian provide safety and stability in his own way?

‘Is that a proposal, Doctor Van Helsing?’

Jurian just gave her a sly grin in response.

The train continued on his journey then, he added, ‘I shall not ask for I hate to be disappointed.’

When the night grew long, Nesta remained unchanged. Jurian postulated that Cassian had not managed to drink too deeply or infect her. Only her death would alter her. It gave her a small kernel of hope that perhaps there would be a future for her. A future as a human. She’d stake herself through the chest if she became like Cassian.

‘Try to sleep,’ Jurian said as softly as a rough-tongued man like him could manage.

‘I find myself not only plagued by worries but chilled by them too.’

In response, Jurian crossed the narrow trench of the carriage and lay beside her on the cushioned bench. His arm looped around her middle, holding her in a way that ought to have caused a commotion. If anybody witnessed this… But what was propriety when faced with the undead?

Nesta eased closer to him, her face nuzzling against Jurian’s chest. His heart was slow, calm. There was a faint scent of the wild upon him like Jurian had been made from it. He was different to the gentleman of high society that Nesta had traded barbed words with; the sorts of men who’d force her to be a subservient wife and broodmare.

‘What if this is our last night?’

Jurian touched her cheek. ‘Then I will greet death with the knowledge that a beautiful woman has slumbered in my arms.’

‘And if I say that I do not want to sleep,’ murmured Nesta, the words bolder than she felt.

Such a rough-hewn man surprised her with his gentleness. Jurian rolled her beneath him on the narrow stretch of bench. One hand cradled beneath her head, the other lifted her skirts. His lips pressed to her own, urgent yet careful. She met his tongue with her own, the kiss deepening. Without a care for who could see through the steamed-up glass of their carriage, Jurian freed himself of his breeches then settled himself between her legs.

Nesta held onto Jurian in ecstasy as he thrust in and out in a quick rhythm. There was a frantic energy to their coupling – a knowledge that their time on this earth was dwindling like sand running through their fingers.

Jurian pressed his forehead to hers, his breathing rapid when he was spent. Nesta held him. Held him and wished that the future would be kind to them.

***

‘I do not believe all of us will live to see another dawn,’ said Jurian, as they looked upon the famed castle of Count Cassian. ‘We will step into death with the knowledge that we tried to eradicate evil.’

‘Always so positive, my friend.’

‘When it comes to vampires, they’re faster, stronger, and lack a conscience. I am realistic, Lucien.’

Jurian’s gravity reminded Nesta of herself. So often, she’d been told what a serious child she was then what an equally grave adult she had become.

The castle was on the very edge of a terrific precipice where there was a great chasm beneath where the rivers wound in deep gorges through the forests. It was a beautiful place to die, Nesta thought grimly.

Feyre, who they had collected from Budapest, accompanied them. She had knowledge of the castle’s layout and its inhabitants. It took courage to return to this place so Nesta was grateful to her sister for having such a mighty heart.

‘Morrigan and Azriel are strong,’ she explained, ‘but Rhysand… I’ve never seen such speed. He’s fast and powerful.’

‘We will split. Miss Harker – the younger – you will go with Lucien to the top floors. Balthazar and Graysen, take the middle.’ Jurian turned his dark gaze upon Nesta. ‘There is nobody else I would trust to guard you, Miss Harker. You are the one Count Cassian wants. If my hands cannot keep you safe then nobody can. We will take the ground floor and the cellar for that is surely where the vampire will reside.’

Nesta stared up at the imposing castle as the light breached from behind it. They had chosen the first light to mount their attack in the hope that it gave them the advantage.

The castle was macabre within. Cobwebs hung in the corners of the vaulted ceiling and spiralling pillars ran through a great ballroom that spoke of a faded opulence. Nesta kept close to Jurian Van Helsing who moved with the swiftness of a hunter. There was no hesitation in his movements. The doctor stalked his prey, prepared for any eventuality. Nesta clutched the crucifix in her sweaty hand, heart hammering with its fear. It was not solely fear for her life, but for that of the ones she loved who also moved through the castle.

When they descended upon the cellar, they found it empty. It had once, perhaps, been a chapel but no God would allow Cassian entry now. They found the graves of the three vampires under Cassian’s command. Jurian sanctified the graves of Rhysand, Morrigan, and Azriel to put an end to them. From the dust, however, something had been moved. Jurian touched the outline upon the stone floor.

‘A coffin.’ He gave Nesta a grim look. ‘Count Cassian is on the move.’

Just then a commotion sounded outside.

They rushed towards the source, Jurian smashing a window on the ground floor to give them a quicker route to it.

Feyre, Lucien, and Balthazar were engaged in a fight with local men. Many of them had formed a ring around a stationary carriage where surely the vampire must have been. The men were in a strange trance, their eyes glazed and red around the irises. They fought without recognition of their pain for one was shot in the flesh of his shoulder by Jurian’s crossbow and he continued without flinching.

‘The carriage! We must get to the carriage.’

Holy water and crucifixes did not work for these were living men enthralled by the vampire. The only way to put an end to the horror was to kill Cassian.

They acted like a battering ram as they forced their way towards the carriage, felling living men as they went. Lucien and Balthazar used their pistols to shoot, the sound of their bullets ringing in Nesta’s ears.

With an almost superhuman effort, Jurian eluded the men and leapt upon the cart where he forced the coffin upon the ground with a show of his strength. Lucien slashed his way through the men towards the doctor.

Inside the coffin, Count Cassian was covered in earth from his homeland which allowed him to travel. His eyes opened and fixed upon the setting sun. The look of hate in them turned to triumph.

At the last moment of sunlight, Jurian who wielded a great, silver knife chopped off the vampire’s head while Lucien’s knife plunged into Cassian’s heart. Almost as though he was drawing in a breath, Cassian’s whole body crumbled into dust and passed from sight. Even in that moment of death, within such a horrid face, she was sure a look of peace passed over the vampire, his soul finally at rest. The local men were released from the spell, confusion washing upon them.  

‘We will sweep the castle,’ said Jurian, wiping his dirtied blade upon his leg. ‘What of Graysen?’

‘Rhysand,’ supplied Feyre. ‘He died a gallant gentleman.’

‘I am sorry to lose him.’

***

Such wounds were difficult to heal from. As Nesta stood upon the Whitby shore once more, she thought of her sweet sister whose life had ended because of Count Cassian. She thought of the others, the other victims, whose time was stolen from them.

Jurian rested a hand upon her waist.

‘It has been three years yet the wound feels just as keen,’ she said.

‘Time is a slow healer. But it will heal. It will.’

In an unexpected turn of events, Feyre found solace in Lucien’s arms after the horrors they had seen. Their first child had been born in the spring and they had chosen to escape the busyness of London to live permanently in the quiet corner of the world that was Whitby. Balthazar’s brush with the supernatural had repulsed him from the asylum. He had chosen to explore the world. He wrote often of his adventures all the way from the arctic to Australia. Jurian remained militant in his search to eradicate vampires. Often, he was called away to investigate mysterious murders or to lecture on the supernatural. Nesta was the hand that wrote his words. Together, they had published two books on their tale, vampires, and their origins.

‘Come, Mrs Van Helsing, we have a long journey back to London and I fear your cold hands will try to touch me in the carriage.’

Nesta pressed her wind-chilled fingers to his chest, making him jolt backwards and hiss between his teeth.

‘You wicked woman.’

‘Your woman,’ she reminded him.