**Chapter 9 – Dam Road, 100 mph
The dam road unspooled ahead like a black ribbon under a bleeding sunset.
Remy's YZ250F screamed beside me, blue frame a blur, his coyote grin flashing every time he risked a glance.
Ninety-five.
Ninety-eight.
One hundred.
My board didn't have a speedometer, but the wind **howled** like it was trying to rip my hoodie off.
Hot-pink grip tape glowed under my Vans, four-point spirals pulsing in time with my heartbeat. The wheels were starting to glow with heat.
The pack fanned out behind us—eleven bikes in perfect V-formation, engines snarling like wolves on a hunt.
Seras rode point on QUEENS 7, red streak whipping behind her like a comet tail.
Her maple pendant blazed, flames licking the edges without burning her jacket.
Remy edged ahead by a nose.
I felt the vampire blood **sing**.
I crouched lower, thighs burning, shadow magic threading through the wheels like dark lightning.
The board **leapt**—not an ollie, not a trick, just pure forward **surge**.
I passed him.
His eyes went wide.
I laughed so hard the wind stole it.
The dam loomed: concrete curve glowing orange in the dying light, mist rising off the reservoir like ghost breath.
Remy gunned it.
His front wheel lifted.
He popped a wheelie at ninety-eight, coyote king showing off.
I answered with a **shadow grind** along the guardrail—board sideways, sparks of night-ice exploding where metal met magic.
The pack **howled**.
Seras whooped over the comms crackling in our helmets.
"Eat it, Remy!"
He dropped the wheelie and **closed the gap**.
Half a mile to the turnout.
Slushie stakes on the line.
I could win.
I **would** win.
But then—
A flicker in the mist.
Not normal valley fog.
This was **wrong**—thick, oily, smelling like burnt ozone and old blood.
Remy saw it too.
His throttle cut.
"Celeste—"
The mist **lunged**.
It wrapped my board like a fist.
Speed bled away.
I skidded, shadow and light magic flaring to fight it, but the darkness was **older**.
Deeper.
My board stopped dead.
Momentum didn't.
I flew.
Twenty feet.
Thirty.
Remy's bike fishtailed.
He ditched it, coyote-fast, and **caught me mid-air**.
We hit the asphalt rolling.
Helmet cracked.
His arms locked around me like steel.
The pack screeched to a halt.
Bikes formed a circle, headlights cutting through the mist like searchlights.
Seras was off QUEENS 7 before it stopped moving.
Maple pendant **blazing**.
"Julian's binding," she snarled. "This isn't random."
I pushed up, knees shredded, vampire blood already knitting skin.
My board lay ten feet away, grip tape **cracked** in a perfect four-point spiral.
The mist coalesced.
A shape stepped out.
Tall.
Pale.
Eyes like frozen rubies.
Not Julian.
**Worse**.
The vampire wore a Lakeside High letterman jacket—class of '89, faded but pristine.
Blood stained the collar.
He smiled, fangs too long.
"Spring Queen," he said, voice like gravel in a blender.
"Word travels fast when you crown four rulers in a town that **forgot** its kings."
Remy growled, low and animal.
The pack closed ranks.
I stood, shadow and light magic pooling in my palms like liquid night.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Name's Elias."
He tilted his head.
"Julian's sire.
And you, little queen, just painted a target on this valley."
Seras stepped forward, flames licking her fingertips.
"Touch her and I burn this road down."
Elias laughed.
"Fire girl.
Coyote boy.
Cute."
He inhaled.
The mist **thickened**.
"Four hearts," he murmured.
"Four rulers.
Four **debts**."
My locket burned against my chest.
Twin heartbeat—**Remy's**—racing in sync.
Elias's eyes flicked to it.
"Ah.
The binding.
Julian always did like his toys."
Remy's hand found mine.
Warm.
Steady.
I squeezed back.
"We're not toys."
"No," Elias said.
"You're **bait**."
The mist **exploded**.
Shadows lunged—vampire fast, but **wrong**.
Twisted.
Like they'd been fed on too long.
The pack moved.
Seras **flamed**—maple fire roaring into a wall.
Remy shifted—half-coyote, claws and fangs, bike leathers ripping at the seams.
He **launched**.
I shadow-dove, board forgotten, magic carrying me like wings.
Elias met me mid-air.
His hand closed around my throat.
Cold.
Old.
"Pretty crown," he whispered.
"Let's see how it looks **broken**."
I **smiled**.
Shadow ice **erupted** from my skin—four-point spirals spinning into blades.
They **cut**.
He hissed, grip loosening.
I dropped, rolled, came up with my board.
Grip tape **healed** under my touch, cracks sealing with living night.
Remy tackled Elias from behind.
Coyote jaws clamped on vampire shoulder.
Blood—black, thick—sprayed.
Elias **flung** him.
Remy hit a bike.
Metal crumpled.
**No**.
I screamed.
Shadow and Light magic **detonated**.
The dam road **cracked**—four-point spiral fracturing asphalt in a perfect circle.
Mist recoiled.
Elias staggered.
Eyes wide.
"Impossible," he spat.
"You're Something**new**.""something more Than Just a Vampire".
I stepped forward.
Board under one arm.
Remy's blood on my hands.
"New rule," I said.
"Touch my pack again, and I **end** you."
Seras's fire **circled**.
Remy pushed to his feet, snarling, fur rippling back into skin.
Elias snarled.
"This isn't over."
He **melted** into mist.
Gone.
Silence.
Then—
Remy coughed.
Sat up.
Grinned through blood.
"Slushie's on you, princess."
I laughed.
Couldn't help it.
Seras kicked QUEENS 7 upright.
"Next time, we bring **stakes**."
I looked at the cracked road.
Four points.
Four rulers.
Four **debts**.
The dam mist curled around us like it was **listening**.
Remy limped over.
Took my hand.
"Race ain't over," he said.
"Just... paused."
I leaned into him.
Pine sap.
Two-stroke.
**Home**.
"Yeah," I whispered.
"But next time?"
I kicked my board.
It hummed—eager.
"Next time, we **win**."
The dam road was still smoking when we rolled back to the turnout.
Headlights off.
Engines cut.
Just the low hum of my board and the **mist** breathing around us like it had lungs.
Remy's shoulder was already knitting—coyote healing plus vampire blood in the air—but the black ichor on his jacket **stank**.
He peeled it off, wincing.
"Souvenir," he muttered, tossing it into the weeds.
Seras crouched by the cracked spiral in the asphalt.
Maple pendant dimmed to embers.
She traced the fracture with one finger.
"This wasn't random," she said.
"Elias **wanted** us here.
At the dam.
At **dusk**."
I knelt beside her.
The four-point spiral pulsed under my palm—**alive**.
Like it was **listening**.
"Why?" I asked.
"Why come at us now?
Julian's on our side.
He **turned** me—protected me.
A single vampire has no chance against a blood wizard.
Elias has to know that."
Seras's eyes flicked up.
"Unless he's not after **you**."
Remy growled low.
"He put hands on my girl.
That's enough."
I touched his arm.
Warm.
Still trembling with leftover adrenaline.
"Hurting you," I said, voice cracking, "was **not** the way to get on my good side."
The mist **shifted**.
A shape stepped out—not Elias.
**Julian**.
Pale.
Perfect.
Ruby eyes soft instead of hungry.
He wore the same Lakeside hoodie from the dance, but the four-point crown I'd iced onto his curls was **gone**.
Replaced by a thin line of dried blood across his temple.
"Celeste," he said, voice like velvet over steel.
"I felt the binding **snap** when he touched you."
I stood.
Shadow and light magic coiled around my wrists.
"You **let** him come?"
Julian's jaw tightened.
"I **tried** to stop him.
He's my sire.
Old blood.
Older rules."
Seras rose, flames flickering.
"Start talking, pretty boy."
Julian exhaled—unnecessary, but human.
"Elias didn't come for **you**.
He came for **me**."
Remy stepped forward.
"Through **her**?
That's coward shit."
Julian met his eyes.
"Exactly."
He reached into his hoodie and pulled out a **ledger**.
Leather-bound.
Edges charred.
The cover was embossed with a four-point spiral—**burned** in, not carved.
"Debt ledger," Julian said.
"Every vampire in the valley owes Elias a tithe.
Blood.
Secrets.
**Lives**."
He opened it.
Pages fluttered like moth wings.
Names.
Dates.
Amounts in **ounces**.
My name was on the last page.
**Celeste Vale – Spring Princess – bound to Seras & Remy – tithe: the valley's breath.**
I stared.
"What the hell does that mean?"
Julian's voice dropped.
"When you and Seras **shared** the crown at Homecoming, the valley **noticed**.
It doesn't care about plastic tiaras or popularity votes.
It felt **two queens** take one throne. Over the Supernatural of the Valley.
Then it felt **you** bind a coyote to your heart.
That's **three** heartbeats in one seat.
The valley thinks that's a **new ruler**."
Seras hissed.
"The drowned king."
Julian nodded.
"Elias was his **steward**.
When the dam was built in '89, the king was **sealed**.
Elias was supposed to guard the seal.
Instead, he **fed** on it.
Siphoned power.
Kept the ledger to track who owed him for the stolen years."
Remy's hand found mine again.
"So when Celeste and Seras—"
"—took the crown together," Julian finished, "the valley **woke**.
The seal cracked.
The king **stirred**.
Elias needs to **re-seal** it before the king wakes and takes everything back.
Including Elias's life."
I looked at the ledger.
My name glowed faintly—**inked in shadow**.
"Why me?"
Julian's eyes softened.
"Because you're the **Spring Queen**.
Your blood is **new**.
Unclaimed.
If Elias drinks you, he can **rewrite** the compact.
Bind the valley to **him** instead of the king."
Seras cracked her knuckles.
"Over my flaming corpse."
Julian almost smiled.
"That's the plan."
I stepped closer.
"You said you tried to stop him.
Why should I trust you?"
He held out the ledger.
"Because I'm **burning** it."
He snapped his fingers.
Ruby fire—**vampire fire**—licked the pages.
Names **screamed** as they burned.
The ledger **shrieked** like a living thing.
The mist **roiled**.
Elias's voice echoed from nowhere:
**"TRAITOR."**
Julian didn't flinch.
The ledger turned to ash in his hands.
The ashes **dissolved** into the mist.
The dam **groaned**.
Deep.
Ancient.
The reservoir **bubbled**.
Seras's pendant flared.
"Something's coming up."
Remy pulled me back.
"Celeste—"
I felt it.
The locket **burned**.
Twin heartbeat—**Remy's**—racing.
But under it, something **older**.
**Deeper**.
The water **parted**.
A hand rose.
Not flesh.
**Stone**.
Carved with four-point spirals.
Covered in moss and **chains**.
Then another hand.
Then a **crown**—iron, rusted, **three points** bent like claws.
The drowned king.
His eyes opened—**empty sockets** glowing with reservoir light.
He didn't speak.
He just **looked** at me.
And the valley **held its breath**.
Julian stepped between us.
"Celeste," he said quietly.
"Whatever happens, **don't let him take your name**."
The king's stone fingers **reached**.
I raised my board.
Shadow and Light magic **surged**.
Remy shifted—full coyote now, teeth bared.
Seras's flames **roared** into a crown of her own.
The mist **closed** around us like a fist.
And the king **smiled**.