The magistrate knocked softly, and a woman opened the door. Her eyes were tired, her expression strained...but she managed a smile when she saw him.
"Oh... Mr. Robert," she said quietly.
"May we come in?" he asked, smiling back.
She glanced at Fredrick and Della behind him, frowning faintly, but nodded.
"Of course."
They stepped inside the modest home. The space was small, clean, and dimly lit. Faint scents of dried herbs lingered in the air.
"Your husband's not back yet?" Fredrick asked as they took their seats—he and Della on one bench, the magistrate on another. The woman sat across from them, wringing her fingers.
"No," she said softly. "He's been staying longer at the mill... ever since our son's death."
There was a weight in her voice when she said it. Della could feel it—grief wrapped in exhaustion.
"My sincerest condolences, ma'am," Fredrick said gently.
She gave a faint smile. "Thank you... but nothing brings him back."
"We understand," he replied. "We're here only to ask a few questions regarding the case. If you don't mind."
The woman hesitated, brows drawing together. "What do you want to know, sire?"
Fredrick kept his voice calm. "We heard your son had accompanied your husband to work that morning. But when he ran off... did no one see where he went? No one followed?"
She lowered her gaze. "They said it was odd. Zane had run off suddenly... They didn't see where, and later... later they found his body near the roadside."
Della's voice cut through the silence.
"A witch doesn't consume halfway," she said. "When one kills, it feeds...there's no body to recover."
The woman froze. Her lips parted, but no words came.
Fredrick leaned forward slightly. "Are you certain it was a witch who did this?"
"Yes!" she snapped suddenly, rising to her feet. Her eyes brimmed with tears. "Don't come here... asking questions like you care! You won't bring him back!"
"Ma'am, I'm truly sorry," Fredrick said, standing with her. "We're only doing our duty."
"Other councilmen already came here asking questions. Please—just leave us alone!" she cried, her voice cracking.
Fredrick and Della stepped out quietly. Neither spoke until they were back in the carriage.
Della sat beside him, her eyes fixed on the retreating cottage.
"This village isn't right," she whispered. "There's something off."
Fredrick folded his hands. "The villagers we've spoken to seem fine."
"No," Della replied, shaking her head. "The magistrate was strange...too polished. His daughter is pregnant, and I think he's the father."
Fredrick didn't speak.
"And the woman," Della added, "she was... terrified, but not of grief. Something else."
Fredrick sighed. "Don't trouble yourself. I'll handle it. You didn't sense the stones here, did you?"
"No," Della said, her tone short.
The carriage wheels turned, and before long they returned to the Harrison estate.
But as Della stepped down from the carriage, her breath caught.
An unfamiliar, elegant carriage had pulled up beside theirs—and from it descended two figures she hadn't expected to see so soon.
Her heart dropped.
"Lord Lucas..." she muttered beneath her breath.
The infamous vampire and his companion Sir Oliver approached them with smooth, confident strides. Lucas wore a subtle, unreadable smile, while Oliver followed a step behind, reserved as ever.
Fredrick straightened. "Good day, Lord Lucas."
Della gave a small, polite bow, though her spine prickled with unease.
Just yesterday, she had openly insulted this man in a room full of nobles. And now, he was here...in her home.
"Let us go inside," Fredrick said, gesturing toward the estate.
Lucas entered first. Della lingered at the door, debating whether to slip away before he noticed.
But his voice caught her.
"The brave Delilah," he drawled behind her, amusement curling in his tone.
She turned, gave him a quiet smile that didn't reach her eyes, and hurried off without a word.
Lucas chuckled softly. "Ah, so the fire dims when not surrounded by an audience."
Fredrick tried to keep his composure. "My lord, if you'll join me in the study..."
Inside the richly furnished study, a maid poured fresh tea. Lord Lucas sipped his calmly, his fangs barely visible. Oliver, as usual, declined to drink.
"We've never been close, Fredrick," Lord Lucas said after a while, swirling his cup, "so why the sudden invitation?"
Fredrick offered a measured smile. "Let's not dwell on past distances, my lord. The times call for unity."
Lucas leaned back in the chair, his deep red eyes fixed on Fredrick.
"The witches are getting bolder," Fredrick said gravely. "Closer to the stones."
"Stones?" Lucas echoed with feigned ignorance.
"You know what I speak of," Fredrick said plainly. "You're not a man to be left in the dark."
Lucas hummed, unimpressed. "And you are not to be underestimated, Councilman. I'll give you that."
"I need your help," Fredrick said. "To protect the stones... and maintain balance."
Lucas scoffed. "I don't entangle myself with loathsome creatures."
Fredrick drew a slow breath. "The stones are in your mansion."
That got Lucas's attention. His eyes narrowed slightly.
"My mansion?" he repeated. "How bold of you to suggest such a thing."
"I've spent years researching them. And all signs lead to your home."
Lucas tilted his head. "You seem more fascinated with the stones than with your council duties."
"I am simply doing what must be done."
A beat of silence passed.
Lucas leaned forward, voice lowering. "Or is it that someone else drives you? A witch perhaps?"
Fredrick stiffened. "I didn't know you dealt in baseless accusations, my lord."
"I must," Lucas said smoothly. "Otherwise, the world collapses beneath lies."
He tapped the rim of his cup, eyes flicking lazily toward the door. "I hear you have two daughters... Elizabeth and Delilah?"
Fredrick's chest tightened.
"You seem well-informed," he said evenly.
Lucas's mouth curled. "They are... curious creatures. Delightfully troublesome."
Fredrick met his gaze with quiet steel. "Did they offend you, my lord?"
Lucas didn't answer. He simply smiled wider, letting the tension stretch.
Fredrick knew then...this vampire had no intention of leaving the Harrisons untouched.