A feeling Rowan had never experienced settled into his chest.
It wasn't fear exactly. It was closer to the sensation of seeing something that should not exist. Something wrong.
His hands shook.
Without thinking, he pulled the sword from his back and raised it toward the figure near the couch. The blade trembled with him.
"G–get away," he said, forcing the words out. "Get away from this house."
The figure let out a soft, amused breath.
"What a casual welcome," it said lightly. "Is that really how you greet a guest?"
The voice was calm. Almost playful. And that was what made Rowan's skin prickle.
"They call me the Devil's Child," it continued, tilting its head. "And it seems tonight I've found something rare." Its gaze lingered on Rowan. "Ashborne blood."
Rowan tightened his grip. The shaking stopped.
He stepped forward.
The creature smiled.
"Find me."
In the next instant, it was gone.
The window flew open as the figure leapt through it, disappearing into the night.
The sound stirred Maren awake.
She blinked, confused, staring at the empty room. The window stood open. The door too. She was sure she had closed it before sleeping.
Rowan was already running.
He rushed down the stairs, taking them two at a time, barely catching himself as he reached the ground floor.
Ren, Ophelia, and Alistair were waiting below.
They started toward him, questions already forming, but Rowan spoke first.
"A vampire," he said, breathless. "Something dangerous. He came for me." His eyes were sharp now. "We can't let him get away."
A voice spoke from behind them.
They turned.
The creature stood there, silent and still.
It was smaller than Rowan expected, its body compact and unmoving. Its eyes were wrong—white stained red, pupils dark and narrow. One hand hung at its side, far too large for its frame.
Alistair drew his dagger.
Ren moved instantly.
Metal flowed along her elbow, forming a sharp edge as she lunged forward and slashed.
The Devil's Child stepped aside and dodged it.
Its arm stretched unnaturally as the claws swept forward and closed around Ren with frightening ease. She gasped as her feet lifted slightly from the ground, metal still half-formed along her arm.
"Ren!" Alistair reacted without thinking.
He rushed in and drove his dagger toward the creature's palm. The impact rang out sharply, metal against metal. The blade skidded instead of sinking in.
Alistair froze for half a second, staring.
Too hard.
The claws weren't just skin. They were dense, hardened, almost forged.
"Rowan!" Alistair shouted, forcing himself between Ren and the creature. "We'll hold him. Run. He's after you."
Rowan hesitated only a moment.
Then he slid his sword back onto his spine and turned.
Glass shattered.
Ophelia had swept a cup off the table. It hit the floor and broke apart, fragments scattering across the tiles.
She raised her hands.
The broken pieces trembled, then lifted into the air as if caught in an invisible current. They twisted, edges aligning, reshaping mid-flight.
The fragments launched forward.
They struck the arm holding Ren, converging and locking together around it. In seconds, the glass had formed a crude spear-like structure, pinning the claws in place.
Ophelia let out a sharp breath. "Ha. One hand trapped—"
The Devil's Child flexed.
The glass cracked.
Then shattered completely, raining harmlessly to the floor.
Ophelia blinked. "…Okay. Didn't think that through."
But it was enough.
Ren tore herself free, landing hard but steady. She and Alistair moved together, blades flashing as they struck at the creature's torso.
The attacks landed.
They didn't matter.
With a single sweeping motion, the Devil's Child sent them both flying back. They hit the ground and slid, breath knocked from their lungs.
The creature turned.
Its gaze locked onto Rowan.
Rowan had already reached the sidewalk.
He ran.
Then the light hit him.
Headlights flooded his vision. Too bright. Too close.
He stepped back instinctively.
Too late.
The impact threw him onto the hood, his body rolling over the windshield and landing hard on the trunk. The car swerved violently as the driver panicked, tires screeching.
Rowan struggled to stay upright as the vehicle lurched forward, his hands scraping for balance against the metal beneath him.
The Devil's Child planted his claws against the asphalt.
For a fraction of a second, nothing happened.
Then he launched.
The distance collapsed instantly. He moved with the same brutal speed as the car, maybe faster. The engine screamed. Tires skidded.
Both the driver and Rowan panicked for entirely different reasons.
"Please forgive me, God," the driver sobbed, foot slamming down harder on the accelerator.
The car surged forward.
So did the Devil's Child.
Rowan's mind lagged behind his eyes. The road blurred. The night air cut against his face. The driver was losing control, hands shaking on the wheel, breath breaking apart.
Behind them, claws scraped against the ground as the creature gained, step by step.
Too fast.
Too close.
The Devil's Child closed the final gap with a leap.
A shadow rose beside the car.
Then a massive arm swung.
Rowan was struck mid-motion. The world flipped. He flew off the trunk and slammed into the ground, breath tearing out of him as pain rippled through his body.
The car swerved once, then sped away.
The driver didn't look back. Relief mixed with terror as the road swallowed him whole. Whatever this night was, it would haunt him forever.
Rowan groaned and forced himself upright.
His sword scraped as he dragged it free again, fingers tightening around the hilt.
The Devil's Child lunged.
Rowan barely raised the blade in time.
Steel met hardened claw with a jarring impact that sent vibrations up his arms. He staggered back a step. Then another.
The attacks didn't stop.
Again.
Again.
Each swing heavier than the last.
Rowan blocked them, teeth clenched, boots sliding backward across the pavement. His arms burned. His grip screamed to loosen.
Then he saw it.
A brief opening.
Rowan shifted his weight and struck.
The sword glided forward in a clean arc. The Devil's Child retreated half a step, but not fast enough. The blade kissed flesh, leaving a shallow cut across his side.
It wasn't much.
But it was something.
Rowan looked up instinctively.
Recognition hit him harder than the pain.
The fairgrounds.
The same place he'd walked through earlier that evening. Lights were being dismantled. Stalls stood half-empty. Workers moved slowly, unaware of how close death was breathing.
The night hadn't changed.
Rowan had.