Guilty vamps could lie right through their fangs with ease, but Gwyneira agreed to take Mr. Emrys Hawthorn on as a client because she believed him.  Only Goddesses knew why she did. That decision would come back to bite her on the arse eventually. 

The first thing on her itinerary was to gather as much information about the deceased as possible.  Which included reporting the bloodsucker’s remains to the police since guilty vamps rarely self-reported their crimes. Not exactly something she wanted to do on such a cold Moonday night. 

Gwyneira wrapped her thick, knitted scarf around her neck.  It tingled just the slightest from the protective magic imbued into it, but the sensation faded as she slipped into her winter coat. Much like the cozy blanket she had abandoned at her desk, her scarf was also knitted by her father to keep her safe. 

No witch dared to leave their house with their neck exposed. She didn’t trust those thirsty bats out there one bit either.  

“Are you bringing that with you?” Emrys pointed down to Nightshade at her feet, happily wagging her tail because she loved random flights at night.  

“Of course.” Gwyneira leaned over and scooped her precious baby up in her arms.  “Familiars always stick with their owners to keep them safe.  I’m less likely to be dragged down a dark alleyway when I’ve got a Tressym ready to attack any vamp who dares to cross me.”

“A what now?” His voice cracked at the end, taking a tiny step away from Gwyneira and her adorable furball.

“Tressym.  A winged cat.”

“Ah, I see.” Emrys twitched one of his ears, gaze dropping down to his feet as he murmured, “No vampire will approach you while seen with me.  So don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried.” With Nightshade still in her arms, she coaxed a little magic from her fingertips to summon her silver dagger stashed in her coat’s pocket. Silver embers simultaneously swept over to Emrys, a nifty little blinding charm that worked to keep him from noticing her magic trick. By the time Emrys looked up and met her eye, she’d already slipped over to him like a shadow, positioning the blade right at his neck.  “I could slit any vampire’s throat before they even realized I pulled my blade.  Including yours.  So don’t do anything stupid.  Got it?”

“Yes, mam.” Emrys stood ramrod straight, crimson eyes glowing at the mere sight of silver so close to his delicate neck.  “Swear it on my own fangs.”

One wrong move, and Gwyneira could have him writhing on the ground in agony.  It was one of the very few things humankind held against them. Despite the government’s efforts to try and ban such material from entering their country.  

“Good.” Gwyneira pulled her blade back and sheathed it before returning it to her pocket. “Let’s get going then. I wish to be back before the sun rises.”

“You and me both,” Emrys mumbled. 

Icy wind clawed at Gwyneira’s face the moment she stepped outside her firm.  The warm layers did little to fend off the chills as she mounted her broom, channeling wisps of silvery blue sparks that chased away the snow.  Slowly, she ascended up into the sky with her path cleared.  Nightshade had already unfurled her own soft, velvety wings and soared up beside her.  

The vampire’s moon blessed skin melted to a dark and leathery midnight black as he shifted. Within seconds, he appeared on her left opposite of Nightshade in bat form. The two glared at each other, and Gwyneira almost expected them to challenge each other mid-air, but fortunately, it did not come to that.  Emrys remained in her peripheral while Nightshade swooped ahead, savoring the crisp air Gwyneira cleared for them ahead.  

Sanguine City bustled with life down below.  Not even the snowfall hindered the vampires, and many shops glistened with bright festive blue lights below.  If not for the pressing matters at hand, she might’ve swooped down for some window shopping. Nightfall Eve was only a few days away, and Gwyneira had yet to even buy a single gift for her family.  She’d gotten so swamped with work that there was no time for leisure pleasures like shopping, but she’d make sure to slip some time in very soon.

Gwyneira tightened her grip around her broom’s handle as she guided it lower, the wind whipping at her hair as she neared the ground. Below, the cobbled streets serpentined like snakes, but her focus was solely on the building ahead. It stood at the edge of the alley, looming in the dim moonlight. Above the weathered door hung a sign of a massive bat, its wings spread wide, nestled within an open coffin. Sleeping Bat Inn adorned the lower half of the sign.

Once Gwyneira reached the ground, she hopped off her broom and dispelled it away. Nightshade fluttered down at her feet, and Emrys shifted back into his human form. 

Snowflakes fell in his waves of midnight hair and his long lashes, which he fluttered in annoyance. The tips of his ears had reddened to the shade of blood. Had his folks never warned him of the dangers of exposing his ears to subzero temperatures?  Perhaps he thought all that pretty hair of his was enough to keep them warm.

Gwyneira reached up and tugged her own knitted hat off her head, securing the hood from her cloak in its place. “Come here.”

“What?” Emrys frowned.  

She slipped the hat atop his head, tugging it down to cover the fine points of his ears.  “Your ears will freeze off your head.”

“Uh, thanks.” Color bloomed in the vampire’s face as he touched the knitted hat, flicking at the fuzzy white ball on top.  

“You’re welcome.  Now, show me the dead body.”

Emrys cast a wary look around.  “Can you maybe not say that so loudly?  Jeezus.  Come on, follow me.”

Gwyneira stayed close at his heels as she stepped inside the inn and passed the receptionist’s desk.  The vampire lady gave them a knowing smirk and flashed her fangs.  As if Gwyneira would ever be caught dead in such a place giving her blood and body away to some desperate vamps. 

It smelled like sweet peppermint and another coppery tang that she recognized as blood.  Not too shocking, considering where they were.  Emrys led her down a long, narrow hallway full of occupied rooms.  She tried to ignore the lecherous moans and squeals that echoed off the walls, wishing they’d at least had the decency to cast sound-proof hexes on their rooms.  

Finally, they reached door number sixteen and Emrys produced a golden key with a keychain of the inn’s logo secured around it.  He inserted it into the lock until it gave way with a soft click and entered the room, holding the door open for her.  

It looked like an ordinary room with a very lavish steel coffin.  She scanned the room for anything that shouldn’t be there, like a corpse or even blood stains on the carpet.  However, it was pristine.  Nightshade leaped up on the bed, curiously sniffing at the sheets before nestled down at the edge. 

Gwyneira wandered over to the nightstand, curiously examining the cover of a novel that depicted a witch in a pointy black hat passionately embracing a vampire man.  It was titled Wooing the Witch.  

“Riveting reading material you have here.” Gwyneira held up the book, and Emrys snatched it from her hand before she could even blink.  Beside it was a bottle of dark red blood capsules and a pamphlet about blood intake levels. 

Emrys tucked the book inside his overcoat’s inner pocket, eyeing the steel coffin.  “The body’s locked up in there.” 

“I thought you said you were asleep and found him outside the coffin.” Gwyneira raised a brow.

“I did.  Couldn’t just leave him out in the open for anyone to find, could I now?” Emrys asked as he glided over to it like a shadow and slid the lid halfway off.  

One peek at the vampire was more than enough, and Gwyneira reeled on her feet at such a gruesome sight.  Someone or something had ripped into the vamp’s chest cavity to cleave his heart out.  Intestines glistened like crimson snakes and black venom oozed from the shredded flesh, staining the white linen lining of the coffin. Emrys had moved behind her, strong arms steadying her as if fearing she’d faint right there.  

“Crystal balls,” she cursed under her breath.

“Someone really wanted him dead,” Emrys said as he closed the coffin lid, gently guiding her away from the grotesque body.  “And they want me to take the fall for his murder.  That’s why I need your help.”

“Well, first we have to inform the authorities.  Gather up anything in here that you want now because this will be an active crime scene,” Gwyneira explained, pretending not to notice how he snatched up his blood capsules and that pamphlet.  

There were two reasons why vampires were prescribed those.  They either had mental hangups about drinking blood, thus leaving them malnourished, or he had gone on a feeding frenzy.  Which meant he’d probably killed some innocent human, or humans, in the past in the midst of his bloodlust.  It was too damning of evidence to leave behind, yet she knew all too well, it could be the reason that Iron Fang lay dead in that coffin.

A vampire who lost control of their cravings could be capable of anything.    If Emrys was starved or fallen into a deep bloodlust that nothing could satiate, he could’ve very well lashed out against the other vampire and devoured his heart. He could be a hell of a lot more dangerous than she’d thought.

Icy claws scraped down her back as Emrys politely guided her outside and Nightshade followed alongside them.  Could a doctor examine him and tell if he’d lost control of his cravings?  It was something she’d need to consult her father about, as he was a doctor who specialized in vampire care, despite being human himself.  

If Emrys lost control and didn’t remember, there was a likely chance he’d get off with a binge-drinking pardon.  They’d sentence him to months of blood rehabilitation in some treatment center until they deemed him good enough to return to society and not kill anyone.  However, with Iron Fang being a member of the mafia, she worried how they would react upon learning what happened to their comrade.  

Snowflakes nipped her rosy cheeks as she sent a wand signal up into the sky.  Embers of silvery white glistened against the midnight sky.  She watched for the bat cops who’d soon arrive, and nausea churned in her stomach with all the possibilities of what had happened in that room.  

Was Gwyneira about to defend a cold-blooded killer?