Chance Nightshade, daughter of the Melbourne City Alpha, will avenge her brother's murder at any cost. Even if it means working with a charming vampire prince.
Season 1 of Witchfire
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My backyard was full of werewolves.
Our servants had mowed acres of lawn for the occasion, and the freshly flattened fields were slowly but surely filling with a mind-boggling mixture of people and wolves. A steady stream of vehicles crawled along the single road like ants, only to be redirected by estate staff into an adjacent field. The underground parking lot must already be full, I thought with a stab of apprehension. There was only one thing my father could want from so many of our kind, and it definitely wasn't good for our race in the long run.
Those in human form wore clothes of all cuts and colours, although there was one feature that persisted: the emblems of their respective district packs, cleverly displayed through an assortment of unassuming accessories. Those who could afford it wore shifting leathers, dyed various colours. I curled my lip at the ostentatious display, particularly the young males strutting about for attention in all their livery. It looked like someone had taken a rainbow and screwed it up in their fist, only to throw it at my feet like trash.
The wind shifted, a blessed reprieve from the stench of testosterone wafting from the crowd. Gold and black flitted within me in response to sentences mangled by the distance. I felt my good eye narrow the tiniest amount, wondering what rumours were being given life today.
"What happened to subservient girls? Back in the day..."
"Look at that awful bruise. They say the vampires did it..."
"... the same eyes... that ugly yellow..."
My hands balled into fists.
"We-well," Sophie stuttered, wiping sweaty palms on the thighs of her jeans. It seemed I wasn't the only one who found the crowd a touch overwhelming. "Here we are. Your father..."
"Is on the stage," I said, demonstrating that my eyes were, in fact, fully functional.
I thought I caught a flash of indignation in my peripheral vision, but when I glanced Sophie's way her pallid skin and flaring nostrils painted a portrait of anxiety instead.
"Thank you for your services. They are no longer required," I said, careful not to fall victim to the heels she'd convinced me to don as I made my way to the makeshift stage. Thankfully, the summer heat had baked the earth hard, making it a relatively easy crossing.
I assumed my usual position by Father's left shoulder, nodding respectfully at Charles on the right. It was strange to reconcile the warrior before me with the man who'd ordered a senior's coffee during our last excursion from the estate. I'd begged him to take me to the museum, to look at all the rare crystals and dinosaur bones, and by some fluke of luck my father not only agreed, but made it a regular occurrence. Cafes and libraries, shopping centers and makers markets. It was only through Charles that I had truly glimpsed the world beyond our borders, sampling but a taste of the life Richard bragged about.
