It’s been a long day, you think to yourself as you kick the front door closed behind you, hang your cloak, and set your grimoire down on the small table. Rolling your shoulders to lessen your stiff neck, you cross into the kitchen, waving a hand to start the stove and send a kettle floating over to the sink, then putting itself on the heat.

The fireplace lights itself behind you as you run over your case from the day. Several mages — two witches and a warlock — had been found dead, drained of blood. It matched the description of a vampire, which was odd, as vampires typically targeted weaker prey, not stronger.

Your mug, now filled with hot tea, stops at your lips as you hear a shattering. You set it down with a swear and cross into the living room.

Your back hits the wall, knocking the breath from your lungs. A tall, lean man has his hands on the wall beside your head, caging you in. He flashes a fanged smirk at you.

“Pretty little thing, aren’t you?”