Nerves churned in the pit of Lucien's stomach when the Supernatural Council's detectives waltzed through the front door like they owned the place. The two older men wore their standard navy frockcoats, wands and guns holstered at their hips. The council's crest of the scales of justice were pinned to their left breast pockets, bordered by gold trim.

“What an unpleasant surprise to see you, bloodsucker.” Orick Mandrake pointed his wand at Sebastian before he dared to move. “I thought I warned you not to show your face in this town again.

"Your town?" Sebastian raised a brow.

"Sebastian is my friend and I invited him to my family's shop.” Castor moved beside his friend, resting a hand near the pocket where he kept his wand. "We don't discriminate against our customers."

Orick tilted his head in Castor's direction, lips curled in a disgusted snarl. "Your folks must be pretty damn desperate if you need bloodsucking vermin to make money."

Despite the wand pointed toward his head, Sebastian stood toe to toe with Orick, as if daring him to cast a curse. "Last I heard, you suffered an injury to your right leg during one of your famous hunts so your family wed you off to the Mandrake family. Guess they wanted to salvage some dignity to their forgotten namesake. Hell, are there even any Lemontree's left in Briarwood?" 

“Bold words for a man who couldn’t even protect his own wife.” Orick smirked in satisfaction as Sebastian’s crimson eyes glowed and he extracted his sharp claws like he desired to gouge the hunter’s eyes out. “You should have followed her into the grave that night, Sebastian.”

“How dare you even speak of her-” 

Before Sebastian could lunge for his neck, Castor cautiously stepped between the two with a blazing shield of magical flames emitting from his body, bristling.  “Why are you here, Orick? Sebastian is allowed to cross into Briarwood during the day, per the treaty agreement if you’ve forgotten, and I won’t allow you to threaten him in our shop.”

Orick lowered his wand upon the singe of fire magic that Castor sent along his arms, yet that look of hate and disgust never left his face. Lucien cringed to imagine a battle between the two, because while Castor’s hellfire was brutal, Orick had several years experience on his side of slaying cruel vampires in the past.  

If it came down to it, Lucien knew he’d do whatever he could to protect Castor.  Shadows damn the council.  He wasn’t surprised that Orick brought up Sebastian’s deceased wife, as he was notorious for his ruthless torture to get people to talk, but it still left an ill feeling in the pit of his chest to know that was the kind of position his folks aspired for him.  Even Charlotte was following in those wicked footsteps.

Orick turned toward Lucien and said, "There’s been an update in your sister’s case. We found traces of black magic out in the forest, on the border of Nevermourn and Briarwood. And I know what you’re thinking. How does that connect to Charlotte? Well, the black magic found was identified as hers.”

“Wait, what?” Lucien’s eyes widened at the revelation.

“It wasn’t the only kind of magic found either. Along with hers, there was an unidentified source of hellfire mixed with only Gods knows what else." Orick slanted his beady eyes toward Castor, radiant sparks of silvery blue mist swirled beneath his fingertips.  “And there’s only one renowned family in Briarwood who can wield that kind of wicked magic.”

Orick’s partner nodded in agreement.  “I haven’t seen hellfire used like that in ages.  Gods, I don’t think I’ll ever forget the smell.  Like roasted death.” He shivered. 

"You can't think Castor or his family are responsible for that," Lucien said incredulously, shaking his head. "Seriously, I spent the evening at their house that night Charlotte died. None of them ever left.  I swear on my own soul!” He pressed his fist against his chest, a common oath-binding gesture amongst the council, but it did not have the desired effect he anticipated.  “It’s not like Castor and his family are the only ones on the continent with fire magic.  There are other wizards and faeries in Caverott who can wield hellfire too.”

“Lucien, you should keep better company. What would your folks think about this? Castor is one thing, but a blood sucker? There’s an old saying, hang around shit long enough and the smell sticks.” 

"Don't speak ill of them as if they're not in the same room as us." Lucien tightened his fists at his sides, inhaling a sharp breath as his heartbeat pounded in his chest.  He wasn’t used to sticking up for himself but he wouldn’t just stand by and let Orick degrade his friends.  “Castor and his family are innocent.”

“Tell me something, Lucien.” Orick cocked his head, silver eyes shifting between him and Sebastian.  “Have you and that bloodsucker filled out proper blood donating consent forms? Since you’re all about following the laws and vampire treaty. Don’t play a fool’s card with me either. I know what those marks on your wrist are from.”

Lucien self-consciously covered the fang marks, face burning with shame to have been caught.  “Of course we have,” he murmured.  Which was true, thank the Gods above.  He’d filed them back when he donated his blood at Sebastian’s clinic.

“I’ll be sure to send a copied file to Lucien so he can keep it in his records,” Sebastian said, taking a cautious step back so he could drape an arm around his shoulders. He felt the tension in the vampire’s muscular arm around him and couldn’t deny how nice it was to have him at his side.

“Look, if you’re not going to buy anything and you’re clearly not here to arrest anyone, I’ll have to politely ask both of you to leave.” Castor folded his arms across his chest, and the fire blazing in his coal-dark eyes was enough to make even Lucien flinch at the intensity.  

“Just wait until your mother hears about this, Lucien.” Orick shook his head, and maybe if Lucien wasn’t so accustomed to disappointing his folks it would’ve stung how he didn’t even try to hide the frustration in his voice, as though he’d given up expecting anything better from him.  “You put the Cromwell family name to shame.  Charlotte must be turning over in her grave.”

The moment her name left his foul lips, a switch flipped inside Lucien. His breath caught in his throat, venomous retorts lay right on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say any of them.  Perhaps he was right. Lucien was nothing but a blemish to his family, a disgusting stain that they couldn’t erase.  

Memories of Charlotte helping him with his magic studies crashed over him like tumultuous waves during a storm, each hitting with more force as his hands tightened at his sides.  She had done everything she could to help prepare him for work amongst the council. Just for a worthless position that held prejudices against the vampires and slaughtered those that they could get away with like it was all for sport. 

She’d probably be just as disappointed with him as everyone else in his life was, and maybe he deserved that.  

Jars on the nearest shelf shuddered in sync to his pounding heart as he tried not to imagine Charlotte seeing him with Sebastian and looking at him with the same disgust as Orick and his partner had.

“Lucien!” 

Someone called out his name, yet it sounded miles away as embers of dark forest green swept across the shop, twisting through shelves like snakes.  Glass vials on the shelves shattered with deafening cracks, and a myriad of liquids sprayed out like bursts of flames.  Lucien wasn’t even sure who pulled him away when the shards of glass rained down like morbid confetti, staining the wall and floor around them in a rainbow hue.  

Potion after potion exploded in flashes of shimmery greens and thick silver, yet Lucien could only tremble as he desperately tried to grip ahold of himself before he lost complete control.  

Magic thrummed wildly from his body, coursing through his veins with such power unlike anything he’d ever felt before.  Lucien wasn’t sure what Orick grumbled as he dashed outside and down the pavement alongside his partner without looking back, leaving a trail of potion-footprints.  

The world around him spun in a disorienting blur as the magic slowly settled, but the smells from the broken potion bottles suffocated him.  He needed to get out of that building. He needed to find someplace where he could clear his mind, where his senses could recover.

“Come here. Are you okay?” Gentle, calloused hands touched his face to bring him back to earth.  Lucien blinked, focusing on Castor’s darkened eyes.  

“I-I’m sorry,” Lucien croaked.  I’m sorry for being such a disappointment.

Tears threatened to spill, and Lucien yanked out of Castor’s grasp before he saw him cry over Orick’s stupid words.  They shouldn’t have hurt as much as they did.  It wasn’t like Orick knew anything about his family, especially not Charlotte, but seeing how much he didn’t know about her made him realize he didn’t really know her all that well either. And if she truly hated the vampires enough to kill them, then she probably would be just as disappointed and disgusted by him

Despite how Castor and Sebastian called out his name, he ran like the coward he was.  Lucien had no clue where he was running to, but he just let his feet carry him out the shop’s door and down the pavement, opposite of Orick’s direction.  

Lucien couldn’t dare to look Castor in the eye and see even more disappointment, so he left like the devil was hunting him. He had already endured the weight of others’ disappointment and failed expectations, but from Castor? That would break him in a way nothing else could. He couldn't risk losing the one person who had ever made him believe he was capable of something more.