Was Charlotte really a vampire hunter?  Lucien found the idea more feasible than her dating a vampire, but it still left him with so many questions. How had she gotten involved with them? Why hadn’t she told him anything about it?

On their flight home that night, Lucien tried to imagine his sister wielding death curses against the vampires she was donating her blood to.  Sebastian had clearly trusted her.  When he had revealed the book to him, Lucien hadn’t expected him to recognize one of the symbols sketched among the vampire diagrams to belong to the Hunters.  

Hell, Lucien barely knew much about their hunting organization.  He’d never had any interest in it before, but he was aware of their existence among the council.

Normally, Hunters were wizards who possessed strong magic and a deep-seated hatred for vampires.  The most notorious Hunter bloodline was the Mandrake family, but during his research at home, he had uncovered a few of them in their own family tree.  Maybe that was what had inspired her to join them.

“Can I stay at your place tonight?” Lucien asked as he nestled his head against Castor’s shoulder blades. Moonlight guided them through the pitch black sky, illuminating the dark buildings below. 

“Of course.” Castor steered his broom downward as they neared his house. “Do you want to contact your folks and tell them where you’re at?”

Lucien released his grasp on Castor when they landed. “Not really, but I should.” 

Lucien dismounted from his broom and made his way up the Vales’ yard with Castor close beside him. Potent power pulsed around the home like a second heartbeat as Castor produced his key from his robe’s pocket to unlock the front door. 

Music filled the house with a vibrant beat as Lucien stepped further inside the foyer. Delightful scents of pumpkin spice and baked dough drifted through the air. Laughter rang out from the kitchen, and Lucien curiously approached to find Mr. and Mrs. Vale dancing carefree in their flour-stained aprons.  They were tangled together, giggling and singing along to lyrics.

It made Lucien smile to see them so in love and happy together.  Castor truly was blessed to have such an amazing family.  Nothing like that ever happened in the Cromwell residence.  The kitchen never was a safe space or a lively one.  Normal cooking utensils would easily become weapons, and if there was ever any music playing, it was to drown out screaming matches.

They stopped and paused their music when they finally noticed Lucien and Castor gawking.  With a gloved hand, Mr. Vale held up his pan of muffins for them.  “You guys want one?  We just made them a few minutes ago.”

“Sure.” Castor plucked two muffins out of the pan and handed one to Lucien.  

“Thanks,” Lucien said.  “You don’t mind if I stay the night, do you?”

“You know you’re always welcome here, Lucien.” Mrs. Vale smiled.  

They took their muffins upstairs to Castor’s room, where his friend plopped down on his bed.  Lucien took a seat at the edge, careful not to drop any crumbs as he finished his muffin.  

“I’m gonna hop in the shower real quick, so feel free to use my crystal ball to call your folks.  I don’t want them getting worried that you haven’t returned yet.” Castor rose from his bed and tossed his muffin wrapper in his bedside waste can.  

“Okay, thanks.” Lucien leaned over to grab Castor’s crystal ball from his nightstand, accidentally sprinkling muffin crumbs all over his comforter. “Dammit, I’m so sorry.”

“No problem.”  Castor leaned over and brushed the crumbs off into the floor.  

After Castor had grabbed a clean change of clothes and stepped out into the hallway, Lucien retrieved his wand to cast a clean sweep across the carpeted floor.  In the Cromwell household, everything always had to be spotless.  Eating in his bedroom, even snacks, was unimaginable at home.  As he gripped the orb tightly in his shaky hands, he mustered the strength to channel his magic through it and call his mother.

Each vibration made his chest tighten until a haze of forest green smoke filled the globe.  His mother’s round face emerged from the thick green smoke, her piercing eyes glared daggers through him.  

“Lucien.” 

“Hey, I just wanted to call and let you know I’m staying at Castor’s house tonight.”

“That it?” 

“Yeah, pretty much.” Lucien nodded.  “I should be home tomorrow sometime in the evening.”

“Well, if you turn up missing in the morning then I’ll know who my first suspects are.”  His mother’s laughter rang throughout the room, and Lucien had to tighten his grip on the crystal ball so he wouldn’t drop it.

Instead of arguing with her or feeding into her bullcrap, Lucien ended the globe call and placed it back on Castor’s nightstand.  At least Castor hadn’t heard what she’d said.  It was no secret how his family treated the Vales’ and even went as far enough to blame them for Charlotte’s murder, but Lucien hated it so damn much.  

Lucien stepped over to Castor’s dresser, smiling at the framed photos of them and his family over the years.  Lucien’s favorite one had to be during his first year celebrating Harvest Fest with Castor and his family.  The photo captured them gathered together at the bottom of the stairwell in their fanciest clothes with their faces painted.  

Many families included fun little festivities into their Harvest Celebrations from their kids, but Lucien’s family never did.  They prided themselves too much for their mature and intelligent children. Lucien had to scrub all that paint off his face before even daring to return home that night.  That was so long ago, but the memory was just as vivid as the day it happened.

Lucien opened the bottom left drawer that was given to him to pull out a pair of clean pajamas to wear. Even as an adult, he kept spare clothes there for when he needed them.  Perhaps that was weird.  But Castor had never questioned him about it as they got older, so he doubted he had an issue with it.  

While Castor still showered, Lucien slid his robe off his shoulders and rested it on the back of a chair. Underneath, he’d worn a white linen shirt and dark trousers which were quickly discarded.  A patchwork of scars trailed down his chest, and he concealed them with the soft fabric of his festive pumpkin face pajamas. 

He laid down on Castor’s bed to wait for him to finish up, his mind drifting back to Charlotte’s book and the possibility of her being a vampire hunter.  If the Supernatural Council really had encouraged her to enlist, then their folks had to know about it as well, but Lucien hadn’t wanted to upset his mother again.