Chapter 71 Danica
Danica
Something's off. Rhyland is throwing more weird bat signals than the Gotham skyline—like the pieces don't quite fit together.
After demolishing my second helping—or was it my third?
Who's counting?—I grab Lucian's top-shelf liquor from the kitchen—time to excavate whatever fresh hell happened while we were playing realm-hoppers.
This Brax demon is next-level freaky. But weirdly... harmless? When he shapeshifted from a ten-foot hulking nightmare to Chris Evans' doppelganger, it nearly made me choke on my tongue.
Just when I think I've reached peak weird, the universe says, "Hold my beer," and bitch-slaps me with something new.
"Alright..." I take a shot, embracing the burn. It's five o'clock somewhere, and after the week I've had, day drinking is practically medicinal. "Hit me with it. I know you're hiding something, Lucian. What fresh hell did you stir up while we were away?"
Lucian clutches his chest like I've personally offended his ancestor's cow. "Why do you automatically assume I stirred up trouble?"
"Because that's what you do," Rhyland rumbles, crossing his arms over his chest to make his biceps look like they're flexing for a magazine shoot.
"I resent that accusation," Lucian sniffs. "Sometimes I'm merely an innocent bystander while shit happens around me."
"Name one time," Rhyland challenges.
"Well, there was—" Lucian pauses, finger raised. "No, wait. I definitely caused that one. "But what about—" Another pause. "Hmm. That was also me."
Rhyland's eyebrow arches so high it nearly meets his hairline. "You were saying?"
Seraphina keeps her head down, her golden hair falling like a curtain around her face. "Sera?" I prompt gently. If anyone will give me a straight answer, it's her.
She looks up, a soft smile on her lips that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "It's... Sable." She takes a breath. "Lucian sort of accidentally—"
"I turned her," Lucian cuts in, his voice uncharacteristically flat.
The words hit like a bomb. Erik's glass freezes halfway to his lips. Bryn's jaw drops. The room goes so silent you could hear a pin drop. I stare at Lucian, trying to process the words that just came out of his smart-ass mouth.
"What?" The word comes out strangled like my throat's forgotten how to make sounds.
Lucian shifts in his seat, suddenly fascinated with his drink. "Well, not willingly. I was trying to save her after the blast, and she... died." He glances up, meeting my gaze with something that might be guilt. "But—fuck. You know how turning goes."
I'm pretty sure my brain just fried itself.
Sable.
Vampire.
Lucian.
The words swirl in my head, refusing to form a coherent sentence.
Rhyland recovers first, his voice dangerously calm. "Explain. From the beginning."
I knock back two more shots as Lucian spins his tale—Lilith swooping in like the bitch nightmare she is, Seraphina's wings getting impaled, that demon Brax having the audacity to parade around wearing my mate's face (which is going to earn him a one-way ticket back to whatever hell dimension spat him out if he tries that shit around me), and Sable. ..
"Sable is a... vampire?" The word feels wrong on my tongue like I'm talking about someone else, not my bubbly, pink-haired friend who wears unicorn slippers and cries at dog food commercials.
Lucian runs his hand through his golden hair, sticking it up in tufts. "Yeah, and she's not exactly embracing her new liquid diet. That's why Emily and Damon are AWOL—they're babysitting her through her emotional meltdown. Baby vamp emotions make PMS look like a day at Disney."
My mind reels, images of Sable flashing through my head—Sable curled up on the couch during our Netflix marathons, empty ice cream cartons scattered around us—Sable with dark circles under her eyes as we worked tirelessly for three days straight to cook up that potion to mask my angelic scent—Sable hunched over ancient tomes, her pink hair falling in her face as she researched anything that might help our cause.
My stomach twists. I've adjusted to a lot of crazy shit lately—finding out that Loki paraded around the mortal realm causing a thousand years of chaos, realm-hopping, new stone-wrangling, my brother being turned into a vampire—but this?
This is Sable—sweet, helpful Sable who never hesitated to throw herself into the fire for us.
And now she's... what? Immortal? Blood-dependent? Is she still her?
"Where is she?" My voice comes out stronger than I feel. "I need to see her."
Rhyland's hand finds my shoulder, his touch grounding me even as my thoughts spin out of control. "Baby..."
"Don't 'baby' me right now." I shrug him off, eyes locked on Lucian. "Where. Is. She?"
Lucian winces, holding his hands like he's trying to slow a charging bull.
"Whoa there, Princess. As much as I admire your friendship goals, maybe—and I'm just spitballing here—maybe waltzing up to Baby Fang with your angelic blood pumping through your veins isn't the smartest move?
To a new vamp, you're basically a walking cotton candy stand at a kindergarten birthday party. "
"I don't care. She's my friend." I go to leave, but Rhyland's arm blocks my path, a wall of immovable Viking muscle.
"She tried to take a bite out of Emily," Lucian adds. "And that's her witchy BFF."
Seraphina clears her throat delicately. "To be fair, you used the Maker's command. She can't attack Dani now even if she wanted to."
"Not helpful, Cupcake." Lucian shoots her a betrayed look.
My eyes widen, "You mind-controlled, Sable?" My voice rises an octave.
"I prefer 'temporarily adjusted her dietary preferences,'" Lucian shrugs. "It was either that or let her snack on the local populace. Trust me, nothing ruins property values faster than a vampire buffet in the neighborhood."
"This isn't funny, Lucian." I put my hands on my hips, done with his shit. Erik's silver eyes track the tension like he's mapping out escape routes.
"She's new." Lucian's voice drops, that razor-edge of seriousness that always makes me pause because it means shit has truly hit the fan. "I did what I had to do to keep her from hurting anyone or herself."
The realization hits me like a punch to the gut—Damon got lucky. If Azrael had stuck around after turning my brother... I shudder at the thought of that psychotic bastard having a Maker's command over him, turning him into some mind-controlled attack dog.
But Lucian? He's seen firsthand what that kind of control does to someone. Hell, he spent decades being Lilith's plaything. The disgust in his eyes whenever we talk about it tells me everything I need to know. He'd rather stake himself than become that kind of monster.
No, Sable might be a vampire now, but at least her Maker—Lucian—gives a damn about her free will. Small comfort, maybe, but in our fucked-up world? I'll take what I can get.
Seraphina shifts closer to him. Even Rhyland's stance changes, that predatory stillness settling over him as he watches his brother.
"Can I see her? Please?" I ask, softer now.
Itap lightly on Sable's door, feeling Rhyland and Lucian's presence behind me like twin shadows. The wood is cool against my knuckles.
"Come in." Sable's voice wavers through the door.
The scene inside hits me like a snapshot—Sable perched on the edge of her bed, fingers intertwined with Damon's, Emily sprawled in the window seat with her rainbow hair catching the afternoon light.
"Well, if it isn't our realm-hopping disaster magnet!" Emily launches herself at me, nearly knocking me over. "When did you crawl back from Viking wonderland?"
I squeeze her tight, breathing in the familiar scent of her coconut shampoo and whatever explosive spell she's been working on. "We just got back—missed you too, you pain in my ass."
"I'm the pain in the ass?" She pulls back, eyes sparkling. "Finally get my note?"
A blur of movement catches my eye—Sable pressing herself against the far wall, her pink hair wild around her face. "Please," she whispers, eyes wide. "Don't come closer. I can't... your scent..."
My heart cracks. This isn't my confident friend who faced down a clan of witches with nothing but determination and a spell book. This is someone afraid of herself.
"Sable—"
Strong arms wrap around me. Damon. My brother. The scent of his cologne—still the same even after everything—brings tears to my eyes.
"Welcome home, sis," he murmurs against my hair.
I return his embrace, studying his face. The tension I'd been carrying about his transformation melts away. His eyes are clear and focused. There is no bloodlust, no struggle—just my brother holding me like he has a thousand times before.
"Look at you," I manage through the lump in my throat. "All vamped up and in control."
He grins, fangs flashing. "Turns out immortality suits me."
Sable makes a strangled sound, pressing herself further into the wall. Her dark brown eyes dart between us like a trapped animal.
Lucian steps forward, his usual snark in full force. "Alright, Bubblegum, time for a Vampire refresher course. Chapter One: You won't go all 'Interview with the Vampire' on our resident angel here. Seriously, look at her—she's like a walking Christmas light. Way too bright to snack on."
His voice carries the subtle resonance of a Maker's command—not controlling, just steadying—like dropping an anchor in stormy waters. Sable's body relaxes instantly, the tension melting from her shoulders as the command settles over her. Her eyes clear, fear replaced by calm understanding.
"Look at you, all paternal and shit," I grin. "Should we start calling you Daddy Vamp?"
Lucian's face twists like he's just swallowed sour blood. "Listen here, Princess Snack Pack, I may be responsible for this baby vamp, but if you ever— ever—call me 'daddy' again, I will personally ensure every Netflix account you touch automatically plays nothing but Adam Sandler movies."
"That's cruel, even for you."