Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“That’s not the story,” Antonio tells her. “We are siblings. I’ve known Wren since she was a baby. I think I even had to change a diaper a time or two.”
“Interesting,” Victoria says as she types something with inhuman speed on the iPad. “Now, I need you to understand just how important honesty is here. The moment people know you’re a witch—” she glances at me, “—and that you were raised in the Order, it’s over. Those are the two biggest things we’re trying to keep from leaking. I need to know every skeleton in your closet.”
“We know better than to keep skeletons in the closet,” I say without missing a beat. “We’d salt and bury the bones.”
She looks at me, confused, then just types something else on her iPad.
She quizzes us a bit more, asking questions that feel less strategic and more like she’s being nosy, until Xavier and Theo finish their conference call and join us in the family room.
“Oh, good. Now everybody’s here,” Victoria says, eyes lingering on Xavier a little too long as he sits on the couch next to me, hand landing on my thigh. “I need to go over this news segment from Channel 5 last night.”
She flips the iPad around and presses play. That channel is known for having some pretty extreme views, and the top anchors have been very outspoken about their anti-vampire stance. Devon comes into the family room right as the segment starts playing, standing to the side.
The news clip starts with dramatic music, the station’s logo flashing across the screen before settling on the anchor behind a polished desk.
“Tonight,” the anchor begins, “growing questions about the man many are calling the future of this city: Xavier Malus.”
A photo of Xavier from the event flashes on screen, looking sharp and composed in a black suit. His expression is neutral but, my god, he’s still good looking, giving off the vibe that looks like control.
“But who exactly is he?” the anchor continues, tone heavy with skepticism. “In just a few short weeks, Malus has gone from an influential—if somewhat mysterious—figure to a potential candidate for mayor, backed by powerful community members and, increasingly, public support.”
The screen splits, showing a commentator seated remotely. I’ve seen this guy debate people who support vampire inclusion before, and he’s spat off some very made up “facts” in most of his debates.
“What we’re seeing here is unprecedented,” the commentator says. “A man with no verifiable public record prior to the last few decades suddenly stepping into one of the most powerful positions in the city.”
The anchor nods. “And that’s just the beginning. Our team has been digging into Malus’s background—and what we’ve found is…very little.”
“No birth records. No clear immigration history. No family ties we can confirm beyond his vampire brother, Theo Malus, who is also just as mysterious. Are they even brothers?” the anchor continues. “Which raises the obvious question—where did he come from?”
The commentator leans forward slightly. “We spoke with an anonymous source familiar with some of the city’s most prominent vampires. According to them, Malus is old. Very old.”
The anchor arches a brow. “How old are we talking?”
“Over seven hundred years,” the commentator replies. “Possibly originating from Spain.”
A brief pause follows—just long enough to let it sink in.
The anchor gives a small, incredulous shake of the head. “Seven hundred years. That’s quite a claim.”
“It is,” the commentator agrees. “And we want to be clear—there’s no official documentation to support that, as Malus registered himself as being two-hundred and ninety some years old. As we all know the issue with vampires self-reporting their death day is lack of verification. But when there’s this much of a gap in someone’s history, speculation tends to fill the void.” He lowers his voice slightly. “And if even a fraction of that is true, it raises the concern that vampires of that age develop special abilities..”
The anchor glances up. “You’re referring to compulsion?”
“Yes,” the commentator corrects. “The ability to influence human behavior. Bend perception. Override consent.”
He pauses again.
“Again, we’re not saying that’s what’s happening here,” he adds. “But it does make you question how someone rises this quickly, this smoothly, with this level of public support.”
The anchor nods slowly, hardly keeping a neutral expression. He’s loving this. “And there’s another piece of this raising eyebrows. According to court records, Malus recently married a human woman named Florence.”
A photo of me from our wedding announcement photoshoot flashes on screen. I look good at least.
“She might be just as mysterious as he is,” the anchor says. “No one has been able to figure out who she is or where she came from. Even her maiden name can’t be found.”
“No public history together,” the commentator adds. “No long-term appearances. No social footprint. And then suddenly—she marries him.”
The anchor folds his hands. “A powerful, centuries-old figure with no documented past, a rapid rise in influence, and a relationship that seems to have materialized overnight.” He looks directly into the camera. “Is this simply a private man stepping into the public eye…or is there more going on behind the scenes?”