Gwyneira would not die out there. Despite the panic that welled in her throat when she screamed so desperately for help, hoping that some keen-hearing vamp somewhere would have sense enough to find her, she fought the wretched rotter that wanted to chew her up like one of its rat innard buffets.

Magic sparks flew from the tips of her fingers, hitting it both in the chest and smack-dab in the face, but it did not damage.  Without her wand, it made casting spells much harder but not impossible.  She couldn’t let her fear consume her.  Not when it made her spells more ineffective, to the point they sometimes died in the pit of her throat.  To the point that some wouldn’t even cast.

Surely someone would grow suspicious when she was late to court.  She had never been late.  Not once in her life.  

Maybe the fact of that wretched creature ruining her once unblemished record of being on time helped fuel her anger, maybe it was the one thing that kept her fighting when she knew she was destined to be nothing but a scrumptious dinner for that rotter.  

Either the cursed thing was a perverted undead creature always grasping toward her chest, or it was desperate to reach within and cleave out her heart.  She’d already hexed off all the fingers on its right hand, but that had yet to stop it from reaching toward her with gross bloodied stubs.

Gwyneira had backed all the way down into the alleyway in a futile attempt to elude it.  She realized far too late how that had been its plan all along.  Despite how she pressed her back tightly against the bricks behind her, thrashing against the grotesque hands that restrained her to it, she refused to go down without a fight. Magic did not damage to it, nor did a rough knee to its groin.  A classic move, but one that helped her none. 

She suspected the dead thing no longer had a sense of pain when all her spells bounced right off it.  Panic welled in her chest at such a thought as she struggled to think of another way to fight it off. 

Defensive spells only worked when the one being hexed or cursed felt it.  She tried to use a freezing charm on it, but the wretched thing burst from the restraint she held on it within seconds.  She had no power to hold it back or hold it still. Not like she had with Lionel before, because his fear had helped let her cage him.

Something soulless and undead would never feel fear or pain.  All it knew was a relentless hunger.  One that would never be satiated, not unless its puppet master made it. Gwyneira knew that smell of acrid necromancy magic amid the stench of rot all too well. Someone had sent it to finish her off.  To silence her for good. 

It chomped down near her throat, which gratefully, was still covered by her protective scarf.  No matter how hard the rotter bit into the fabric or tried to remove it, her father’s magic refused to let it get anywhere near her precious neck.  She fought to keep its nasty gnarled hands away from the rest of her body, and in a last ditch effort, screamed bloody murder into the night.  

Tears gathered in her eyes from the stench of death and the thought of her loved ones finding her remains down in that alleyway.  She couldn’t die down there.  She couldn’t abandon her family.  Or Emrys. 

Vespera and Leo had always told her working amongst vampires was dangerous, and that it would someday get her killed.  Perhaps in a twisted way, her siblings had been right.

Warm droplets splattered her face after she’d closed her eyes, bracing for the worst.  She slowly cracked one eye open, then the other, as her lips parted in a silent scream when the rotter’s head slid right off its shoulders.  Behind it, Emrys stood like a vengeful soldier with blood staining his wool coat and trousers.  

Gore seeped down his arm, dripping from his fingers where he’d unsheathed sharp, monstrous claws. Nightshade purred at his feet as he wretched aside the rest of Mr. Blackthorn’s corpse, like it was merely a doll, and pulled her into his embrace.  

“I’ve got you, Gwyneira.” Emrys rubbed slow circles along her back as he guided her out of the alley, far away from Mr. Blackthorn’s remains.  She glanced behind them, as if expecting the corpse to miraculously resurrect and attack.  “Come on.  You’re safe now.  It can’t get you.”

“How..?” she rasped, shaking her head.  

“Looks like someone manipulated that rotter to attack you.” Emrys gently pressed her against the wall of an adjoined building, planting both hands firmly against it to keep her pinned in.  “Had I known…  I never would have let you fly alone here tonight.”

“How did they get a hold of Mr. Blackthorn?” Gwyneira whispered, her voice trembling with each word.

“You knew that rotter?” Emrys raised a brow.

“Not when he was alive, no.” With Emrys so close to her, his familiar scent calming to her, she managed to explain, “He was a key witness in that grave robbery case I had. Well, his ghost was. Someone had stolen his body from his resting place, and we sued the owners of the cemetery for their negligence.”

“I see.” Emrys nodded, and moved one hand away from the wall to caress her cheek.  “You need to be checked out by a medic, okay?  We’ll borrow someone’s crystal ball in the courthouse and-”

“Nobody came when I screamed,” Gwyneira whispered, her throat tightening with each word when she glimpsed at the towering courthouse building before them.  Vampires could detect sounds from miles away.  There was not a chance in hell none of them hadn’t heard her.

“I did, my love.” Emrys tucked loose strands of her hair behind her ear.  “Damn the rest of those pathetic vamps in there.”

Despite how much Gwyneira did not want to be checked over by a medical team, she knew she needed to get those nasty bite marks on her hands and arms from that wretched rotter.  Just to ensure it carried no infectious diseases that would spread to her.  Same with its blood.  

She let Emrys take the lead into the courthouse and explain the whole ordeal, because frankly, she was too rattled to even form a proper sentence for them.  Bat guards she’d visited every day since she got her license to practice law had not even dared to check on her.  No lawyer in that courtroom thought to consider the safety of a young woman screaming in the night.  

Maybe it was because it happened enough to be considered a normal thing.  Maybe none of them cared.  

The last vampire she wanted to see that night came marching down a flight of stairs with an uncanny fury blazing in his crimson eyes.  Normally, she’d love to go toe-to-toe with Bloodworth, but she had no energy for that wretched vamp.  Instead, she used Emrys like a shield and clutched to him like a security blanket.  

Gwyneira didn’t care what anyone thought of her for staying so close to him.

Everything after that was such a blur, Gwyneira barely remembered being rushed to the hospital after her brother-in-law arrived on scene.  She had to have given him her statement, but even that memory was lost in the fog of mind after the rotter’s attack.  

Trauma had a way of wearing one’s soul down, and Gwyneira felt it heavily in her bones where she sat in a pristine hospital bed.  The doctors ran an assortment of tests to ensure the rotter’s blood and saliva hadn’t infected her in any way.  Black magic knew how to leave its mark on one’s body, so she was grateful to only have minimal bruises.  

Her father’s scarf helped to ward off that wicked magic, she was certain of it.  Had that rotter gotten a bite of her neck, there was no telling what it might’ve done.  She had an uneasy feeling that it had desired to steal her heart too, and upon telling Percy that, they sent samples of the rotter’s saliva and blood to be tested for DNA at their lab.

Emrys had never left her bedside.  When they administered their tests, the doctors had asked her if she wanted him to step outside, and she assured them she’d much rather he stayed by her bedside.

Sunlight spilled through the opened black out curtains in her room, her heart monitor constantly ringing in her ears.  It reminded her that she was still alive.  Things could’ve gone much worse for her, and it pained her to remember how defenseless she had been against the rotter.  All her defensive spells had bounced right off it.

Magic sparks flickered and died on her fingertips as she tried to push dormant energy from deep within her.  She needed to rest.  Her body and mind were still recovering from the trauma, but she didn’t want to wait.  She was upset with herself.  She wanted to fight.  She needed to learn new spells to combat against something wicked and undead like that rotter because all the tricks up her sleeve had failed her when she’d needed them most.

A knock on the door pulled her from her deprecative thoughts.  It was a much wanted reprieve from reliving that night over and over again when Percy poked his head inside, and she gestured for him to come sit in the second spare chair.  Emrys had made himself at home in the one perched right up at her left side.

Her brother trailed behind Percy, cradling a  wrap of tulips to his chest. “Heard you had quite the fight with a corpse.”

Gwyneira groaned. “Yeah. Go on and get your jokes in now.” 

Her brother put the flowers down on her nightstand to wrap her up in a tight bear hug. “You scared the hell out of me, Gwyn.” He pulled back, face twisted in such pained grimace when he noticed the bruises on her arms. “Dad and I are going to look into some hexes and charms to ward off rotters that you can carry with you. Just for future precautions.”

“Thanks.” Gwyneira grinned.  “Although, I hope not to have any encounters with them anytime soon.  If it weren’t for Emrys, I’m not sure I would have made it out of that alleyway alive.”

“You’re a brilliant and skilled witch, Gwyneira.  You would have made that rotter’s head burst open like a watermelon eventually had I not found you first.” Emrys leaned over, giving her hand a tight squeeze.

Before he had a chance to react, Leo came around the side of her bed to embrace Emrys and thank him profusely for saving her.  It made Gwyneira giggle when Emrys tensed up in the other man’s arms, not at all used to such affection she surmised.  She knew enough about his family to know they hadn’t been the kind that hugged often.  

“I’m glad you’re doing well, Gwyn.” Percy put on his stoic, professional mask.  One she’d watched him don countless times over the years because she’d crafted one much similarly during court.  “I thought you’d like to know our experts were able to test the blood and black magic collected from Mr. Blackthorn’s corpse and compare it to the other victims.”

“Oh.” Gwyneira sat up straight in bed, anxiety clawing at her throat.  “What did you find?”

“It was a match for both victims. Jasmine Lark and Iron Fang.” Percy’s gaze shifted over to Emrys.  “Seems like you won’t be needing a lawyer any longer.  There will be no charges held against you because your magic and DNA is already in our database.  I ran it to compare, just to be sure it wasn’t you who resurrected Mr. Blackthorn.”

“Perce, come on.” Her brother reached for his arm, but he disregarded the affection.  He was in detective mode. Nothing could bring him out of that. 

“Why in the hells would I make a rotter attack Gwyneira?” Emrys let out a low groan at the accusation, yet he remained seated in his chair.

“I have learned to be skeptical in my line of work, Emrys. Surely you must understand given your family’s history.  I would love to stick around, but I need to rest a bit before my shift tonight.  Are you coming, Leo?” Percy had already strolled off toward the door, and her brother nervously glanced at her, to which she gave him a brief nod.

Honestly, she much preferred Emrys’ company at the moment anyway.  She loved those two idiots both so dearly, but she wished Percy would realize Emrys wasn’t a bad guy. Especially after his innocence was proven.

“Who do you think resurrected Mr. Blackthorn?” Gwyneira asked with a deepening frown.  “Clearly it was someone who knew my schedule, knew just where to wait and pounce.”

“Until your brother-in-law catches this bastard, I’ll escort you to court every night.” Emrys stood from his chair, leaning down to lightly peck her on the lips.  “I promise, I’ll never let something like that happen to you again, Gwyneira.”