When investigating a murder, no wizard left home without their wand and gun.

Lucien absentmindedly brushed his fingers along his verdant robe and over the Cromwell family crest wrought into a golden pendant bordered by shimmering green gems. A golden tree stretched across the inside of the pendant with spindly roots that spread down the pendant’s edge.

The crystal ball on Lucien’s nightstand shook to life, almost vibrating onto the floor before he reached it and channeled his magic through the glowing orb that cast a bright vermillion light across his dark bedroom. A hazy image of Castor filled the glass ball as Lucien cast a hex bubble around him, just in case his folks were awake and overheard.

“You ready? I’m heading out now to get you.” Castor’s voice filled the silent room.

“Come to the back door. I don’t want them catching you flying around.”

Once he ended the crystal ball call, Lucien wandered over to the window to wait for him, his breath visible against the glass. It thrilled him to think about Castor sneaking over just to steal him away for the night.

Night draped the sky like a celestial cloak, brimming with stars Lucien remembered wishing on as child all the time before bed. A full moon had appeared amid the dark clouds like a watchful, floating eyeball. The longer he waited and watched the twinkling stars, the more his anticipation grew until Castor’s silhouette finally came into view.

Lucien unlocked the window and shifted the glass up all the way, just enough for him to wriggle his body out. It wasn’t the first time he’d had Castor sneak him out of his home in the middle of the night like that and it surely wouldn’t be the last.

Castor levitated on his broomstick right outside his window, fiery embers encased the wooden handle and birch twigs at the end. “Hop on, Lucien.”

It had taken many moons of practicing how to climb out his window and land onto Castor’s broomstick without falling to his death. He was grateful for Castor always casting a levitation spell on him, just in case he were to slip off the ledge. He cast a protective shield around himself as well, his magic pulsing and entwining through Castor’s

Bone-chilling winds clawed at his skin as it dragged him forward once he swung one leg over the windowsill. His heartbeat quickened as he shifted for an uncomfortable moment, then took the plunge as he let the midnight air embrace him. Once steady, he took the final step of swinging one leg over the broomstick handle before some gentle guidance from the magic around him helped ease him down beside Castor.

Lucien snapped his fingers and the window quietly shut back down. “So, where does this guy live?”

“Nevermourn.”

“That place is full of monsters.” Lucien wrapped his arms around Castor’s waist, bracing for takeoff. “It’s dangerous at night too. You know they warn us not to cross their town boundary once the witching hour passes.”

“You’re so adorable. Monsters.” Castor laughed as he soared them up into the air with a tilt of his broomstick. “The Supernatural Council only made those rules to keep curious kids away. Nobody will hurt you so long as you stay by my side. I promise.”

“You’re flying us straight to our deaths, aren’t you? We’ll be a monster’s midnight snack!”

“So dramatic,” Castor teased. “I’ve been here plenty of times past the witching hours and nobody has murdered me yet. Seriously though, we’ll be fine.”

Briarwood faded away like a forgotten dream as they soared over a forest of towering trees that stood like soldiers defending their land. Skeletal branches reached out for them as Castor slowly descended down a small opening. Shadows slithered all around them, and the wind rushed through Lucien’s ears as he squeezed Castor tighter.

Nocturnal animals stirred to life with mating calls to the moon and other ungodly sounds Lucien tried not to dwell on. A weathered Welcome to Nevermourn with tiny bats carved into the wood greeted them at the town’s border as Castor lowered them to the ground and dismounted from his broom, Lucien following close behind him.

Trees and vines rustled around them as Lucien stared in awe at the enchanted bridge before them. Lanterns flickered to life with a soft yellow glow on the railings, where flowers and vines had sprouted along the wood. When Castor and Lucien stepped onto the wooden plants, the pond’s water below rippled as colorful fish and sea turtles rose to the surface.

“I didn’t expect it to be so pretty,” Lucien said softly.

“Just watch out for any red frogs,” Castor warned. “You don’t want to step on them.”

Lucien anxiously glanced down at his boots. “Why? What happens if I do?”

“They become rabid and attack.” Castor shivered. “Nasty critters will pop your eyeballs out if you’re not careful. I accidentally stepped on one when I first flew down here and it wanted blood.”

“What? That’s horrifying!” Lucien latched onto Castor’s muscular forearm. “You better keep me safe from the wicked frogs. I knew it was too good to be true when I saw this bridge. There’s only monstrous things out there.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let those wretched frogs or anything else hurt you.”

Lucien’s heart pounded in his chest, and he didn’t lighten his grasp on Castor’s arm at all as they crossed over the remainder of the bridge. Warmth spread beneath his skin as tiny embers of fiery orange and red dance along Castor’s arm, channeling his magic through him. It was a small comfort.

Vines rustled at their feet and curiously brushed over their ankles as they reached the end of the bridge. A village with ancient buildings made from stone and wood lay hidden amidst the trees, obscured by a thick fog that swarmed it like an army of ghosts.

Cloaked figures emerged from the mist, some heads turning in their direction, and Lucien jumped behind Castor when he noticed their piercing crimson eyes. Lucien gripped the tailend of his robe like a security blanket, peeking out from behind his broad shoulder as the vampires crossed.

“They won’t hurt you,” Castor whispered. “Come here.”

Lucien took cautious steps forward, unable to tear his gaze away from the vampires traversing the crosswalks. He inhaled a sharp, shaky breath and tried to stuff his fears deep inside. Before he could let his anxious thoughts consume him, Castor reached down and interlocked their fingers together, offering a small half smile.

“I promised I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?” Castor brushed his shoulder up against his as they walked past a few cloaked vampires. None spoke a word, only curiously stared at them as they crossed. “The sacred Blood Act enacted before we were even born prevents any vampire from stealing our blood without permission. Only with proper feeding consent forms can they take our blood without facing repercussions.”

“Repercussions?” Lucien frowned.

With his free hand, Castor made a gesture of slitting his throat. “Doesn’t end well for them. But that’s why my friend, the one we’re visiting tonight, built his own clinic for his kind. So cases of binge feeding don’t happen. Don’t they talk about these things with you among the Supernatural Council?”

“No, not really.” Lucien shook his head. “Then again, I mostly just file paperwork and sit behind a desk all day. Also, how did you even meet this vampire? You’ve never mentioned him before.”

“Sebastian saved me one night from a pack of murderous zombie squirrels.”

“Pardon?” The blood drained from Lucien’s pale skin. “Zombie squirrels?”

“Rabid little fuckers.” Castor shuddered. “I thought the eyeball eating frogs were bad enough. There’s a lot of interesting creatures in Nevermourn that wizard-kind banished from our cozy nest of a town.”

Further into the forest village, Lucien’s heartbeat settled back into a steady rhythm as he savored the earthy aroma. Although the village was crawling with wicked critters and vampires, a familiar pulse of magic thrummed around him.

They walked by a little shop with painted bats in the window called The Coffin House. Perhaps the displays of actual coffins shouldn’t have been so shocking to Lucien, but he hadn’t expected those stories to be true. Vampires really slept in them? Or were they for their victims? Chills crept down his spine just imagining it.

“I’ll buy you one for my room.” Castor teased. “Looks cozy, doesn’t it?”

“No thank you.” Lucien shivered.

Soon enough, Castor led them to a back-alley clinic nestled in the heart of Nevermourn. Every fiber in his being practically screamed at him to get the hell out of there. Yet as Castor merrily tugged him toward the entrance, Lucien spoke a silent prayer to the Gods above and hoped none of the vampires decided to break the sacred laws that night.

“Sebastian helps starving vampires around here,” Castor explained as he held the door open for him. “Sometimes, they’re unable to feed properly due to injuries or mental hang-ups about taking blood from humans. Other times, it’s to help with their addictions.”

“Addictions? Like, with drugs?”

“Sort of, but with blood. Binge-drinkers are what Sebastian calls them,” Castor replied. “They’ve gone on feeding frenzies that left people critically wounded or worse. Of course, the Sanguine Council has laws put in place when there’s an intentional killing, but they don’t condemn a vampire’s natural instincts to drink if intense cravings influenced them.”

“I never knew you were so well-versed in vampire politics,” Lucien said.

Castor shrugged. “You learn a thing or two when you hang around vampires over here.”