Chapter 1
1
Amir
Downtown Detroit—After Claiming Gabriel
M y bare feet press into the icy pavement as I step into the city. A grimace twists my face as I inhale the murky air, thick with pollutants.
My eyes dart around, overwhelmed by the chaotic dance of blinding lights and sounds. How can humans thrive amid this squalor? I chuckle quietly to myself—I already know the answer.
It’s fascinating to witness how much has transformed over six hundred years. Humans have truly embraced the wonders of science and technology, yet their structures seem uninspired, lacking the artistry of the past.
I stand before a tavern aptly named Thirst Trap, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. The name screams of Kade, my daughter, having her fingerprints all over it. Born a witch, I often ponder her strange delight in her vampiric existence. I once feared she would mourn her severance from the craft, yet, surprisingly, she revels in it.
She dove headfirst into being a vampire from her very first night. The fact that she maintains her teleportation abilities and control over the elements certainly made the transition easier for her.
Long ago, Fate foretold the coming of a hybrid vampire-witch destined to reign over Wintermoon, and I always assumed that would be Kade—until Leah entered the picture.
Now I see Fate’s design clearly; Kade’s transformation into a vampire was a necessity for Leah. The thought fills me with warmth. In the depths of my slumber, I have observed their love blossoming into something beautifully magical.
Fate had said that Kade’s love for her mate would transcend time itself, and I understand now. Leah is magnificent.
With my hands clasped behind my back, I start crossing the street, the cacophony of lights and upbeat music enveloping me, each step forward becoming a challenge to my senses.
Yet, I will adapt. But then I stop—something dark and ethereal swirls behind me. Of course, Kade seeks me. Does she truly think I would destroy her cherished tavern?
Only if they misbehave.
I turn, a smile breaking through. Kade looks significantly different now. She still holds onto her Viking heritage; her long blonde hair, adorned with intricate braids, flows gracefully down her shoulders and back.
She wears modern attire, which makes me curious. How refreshing to see women embracing their individuality. Kade has always preferred pants. The shirt she wears bears the Wintermoon inscription beside her name.
She holds the title of sheriff—a position I entrusted her with, placing her at the helm of the Master Coven. Knowing her aversion to politics, it was inevitable that she would find a way to escape that burden during my absence.
But her disregard for my directives has opened the door to corruption. Once again, my own coven has turned against me.
Why does this keep happening?
What is it about humans that makes them betray me? It’s always a promise left unfulfilled. When will they grasp that humans will never accept us? We were never meant to seek their approval.
“Daughter,” I greet her warmly.
She swallows hard, a hint of nervousness evident. For what? I’ve chastised her enough for the night. She ought to be with the shifter babies, watching over them.
“Father, I know why you’re in Detroit. I have what you’re looking for,” she announces, my smile widening.
Does she really?
“I’m listening, daughter.” I lean closer, intrigued. She exhales slowly, gathering her thoughts.
“I know where Dave is, and I know where Anora is.” I take deliberate steps back to the curb, positioning myself beside her, then gesture forward with my hand.
“Very well, lead the way,” I reply, my attention briefly drifting back to Thirst Trap. Curiosity simmers within; I can sense Andrew, her son, working inside. His anxiety wafts toward me from the distance.
I extend my hand to her, and she takes it, teleporting us instantaneously.
We materialize in front of what appears to be an eatery. A luminous sign glows against the night sky, reading Randi’s.
“They don’t call them taverns, ordinaries, or inns anymore. Humans have categorized them into diners, restaurants, bars, and hotels,” she explains as I survey the building intently.
“And your Thirst Trap is called…?” Kade sighs, her beautiful blue eyes sparkling as she looks at me.
“It’s a nightclub.”
“And a brothel,” I counter. Kade groans, rubbing her temples.
“That’s illegal in some places now. It’s not technically a brothel, but human women seem to find shifters captivating.” I chuckle at her words, stepping closer to the building.
An adjustment to this timeline will take mere weeks, yet am I cringing at the sight of a human couple passing by, particularly the man’s ridiculous attire.
I frown, trailing after him as he brushes past. I see no charm in his clothing style. His pants hang off him, oversized and unkempt. And his shirt? Equally baggy. I doubt any woman feels secure next to him, wondering if he could even defend her.
In my day, a man’s attire spoke of his character, his ability to protect and provide. We dressed with purpose, with dignity. Each piece of clothing represented our role in society.
But now? These humans shuffle around in their shapeless garments, rejecting the very principles that once gave their civilization structure and meaning.
Perhaps this is what happens when you sleep for centuries - the world becomes unrecognizable. Everything that once held meaning has been stripped away, replaced by this chaos they call progress. Even their buildings lack the soul of craftsmanship, towering glass monuments to their own hubris.
The more I observe, the more I’m convinced these humans have lost their way—forsaking tradition for convenience, dignity for comfort. It’s not just the fashion that irks me—it’s what it represents: the decay of everything I once understood about human society.
Kade chuckles at my obvious disdain, which only irritates me further.
“I am not wearing that!” I exclaim, jabbing my finger in the direction of the man as he crosses the street.
“Then you’ll definitely stand out,” she retorts, a sly grin on her face. I sigh, forcing my focus back to my objective. Dave—the fool who assaulted my woman. The fact he’s lived this long after such an offense perplexes me. My mouth waters at the thought of the hunt.
After destroying the Master Coven, feeding off their betrayal allowed me to replenish. I may not need to feed again, but the desire for vengeance stirs deep within me.
I plan to make him suffer. I want this Dave character on his knees, begging me for a quick death, just so I can deny him that mercy.
“Father, if I knew…” My daughter tries to explain herself, but I cut her off, raising my hand. I never tasked her with finding my mate; the day or year of her birth has always been a mystery to me. I just knew I would find her when the time was right.
“Do not explain yourself to me, daughter. The unknown is not your burden to bear.” I smile at her, hiding the centuries of experience behind a veneer of warmth. “I’m pleased you’ve found him for me. ”
“You would have burned Detroit to the ground until you had,” she quips, her tone playful yet sharp.
She’s right.
I teleport inside the diner without bothering with the entrance. A closed sign hangs on the door; it’s likely locked anyway. Kade follows me, materializing behind my shoulder. The moment I enter, I wrinkle my nose at the stench that envelops me—an overwhelming mix of dead animal and industrial soap. If I ever found Anora in a place like this, I wouldn’t hesitate to whisk her away. Anora is a queen, not someone to be confined within murky walls.
I hear Dave humming to himself in what seems to be an office, the rustle of papers audible. It’s a bit amusing to think he finds pleasure in his life while going after queens. That changes tonight. Kade glances at me, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She relishes the thrill of the hunt, and I plan to savor every moment of this one.
We stay still, lurking in the shadows until Dave finally turns off the office light and slinks through the back door. He’s middle-aged, out of shape, and reeking of sweat. This man had the audacity to put his filthy hands on my woman? My expectations for him plummet. I shoot Kade a sharp glare, but she merely shrugs.
“The patriarchy has reached its peak and is starting to crumble. Human men feel entitled to women. That explains what happened to Queen Anora.”
“What the hell are you doing in here? I’m closed, and I don’t serve supernaturals. Get the fuck out of my store,” Dave snarls, his bravado provoking a smile from me.
Though I’ve been erased from history, remnants of my existence flicker in folklore. It’s a blessing; it makes relishing his demise all the more appealing.
Kade pulls out a chair, claiming the space with a casual authority as she folds her arms over her chest. I watch as Dave moves his hand instinctively to his side, likely reaching for a weapon. With a simple lift of my hand, he floats off the ground, his feet leaving the floor as panic ripples through him. His body goes rigid, suspended in shock. With a flick of my wrist, I draw him towards me, his form hovering inches from my face.
“One thing I’ve noticed with age is that the thrill of the hunt diminishes after so many years. It becomes a chore, and I must find new ways to keep it interesting. Capturing my prey is almost too easy.” I circle him, scowling at his repugnant appearance and that wretched stench clinging to him. Anora isn’t the only woman who’s experienced his vile touches.
The fear of every woman he’s harmed clings to him, like a suffocating spray of skunk. That scent will be nearly impossible to wash away unless he finds a way to atone, something I can guarantee he hasn’t done. Killing him will purge this world of a vermin.
“What do you want?” he whimpers, and as his fear escalates, I can smell it now—it makes the air taste even sweeter. I won’t feed on his rancid flesh, but I will find joy in his end.
“Anora… You assaulted my woman.”
He starts flailing, kicking his feet uselessly, as if movement will somehow liberate him from my grip. My eyes dart to the weapon he’s reaching for, and with a flick of my fingers, it lifts from his side, gliding across the diner and crashing to the floor at the entrance. I grin, baring my fangs, and his fear sharpens, a fine appetizer for the truth about to unfold.
“The more fear I gather from you, the better you’ll taste,” I murmur.
“Please!” he pleads, his legs still kicking, “An—Anora, I didn’t touch that bitch.” Kade gasps, and I can’t help but chuckle.
“Bitch? Anora is no bitch. She’s a queen,” I reply, my tone dripping with centuries of authority.