I take his hand, feeling the familiar calluses that survived his transformation. "When did you get so wise, Sasquatch?"
He shrugs, a crooked smile lifting one corner of his mouth. "Must've been all those documentaries you made me watch."
The grandfather clock chimes midnight. "I should head up," I say reluctantly. "Rhyland will be wondering where I am."
"Go. Your Viking awaits." His eyes twinkle. "Just try to keep the supernatural gymnastics to a reasonable volume. Some of us have enhanced hearing now."
"Oh my god," I groan, shoving him. "That's it. I'm officially disowning you."
"Too late. You're stuck with me for eternity now."
Eternity.The word hangs between us, both promise and reminder.
I pause at the archway. "Hey, Damon?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm really glad you're here. Through all of this."
His expression softens. "Wouldn't be anywhere else, sis. Someone's gotta keep you from getting too full of yourself with all this savior business."
I roll my eyes, but my heart feels lighter than it has in weeks. "Goodnight, brat."
"Night, nerd."
As I climb the stairs toward where Rhyland waits, I carry the warmth of our conversation with me. Tomorrow will bring new challenges—Lilith's growing power, the next stone to find, whatever dangers lie ahead. But tonight, for just a little while, I was simply Dani, big sister, reminiscing about bad casseroles and childhood pranks.
And sometimes, those quiet moments between the chaos are exactly what a savior needs to keep going.
Danica
73
Another blanket of snow has fallen overnight—the third this week. Washington rarely sees this much white, but I guess the universe decided we needed a taste of the North Pole this December.
I press my fingertips against the cold glass, watching my breath create fleeting ghosts of condensation.
The irony isn't lost on me—Christmas is just a week away, and Seattle's channeling its inner Hallmark movie. Perfect timing for everyone except the woman with phantom frostbite from realm-hopping through a magical ice kingdom.
My absolute favorite holiday is approaching, and despite begging both Lucian and Rhyland to let me decorate this place, we've got nothing but the perfect white Christmas outside. Though honestly, after Zephyria, I'm thinking Santa needs to stuff my stocking with tickets to Tahiti.
Things have been... suspiciously normal lately. Lilith's gone radio silent—either plotting something nasty, or she's finally learned how to use airplane mode. In my experience, when evil vampire queens go quiet, they're usually just reloading.
But if I don't escape this fortress soon, I'll lose what's left of my sanity. This is my life now—hop realms, collect magical stones like some twisted rock collector, then return to Hogwarts House Arrest.
Yes, we have our angel-scent-be-gone potion, but after Seraphina's kidnapping fiasco (thanks for that brilliant solo mission, Lucian), my overprotective mate has gone full Maximum Security Prison Warden. His eyebrows practically form a unibrow of disapproval every time I mention leaving.
But damn it! Mama needs a me-day! Just us girls pretending to be normal humans with normal problems—mani-pedis, gossip, and, for the love of everything sacred, a professional wax! My legs have reached Wookie status, and my lady garden is approaching "lost civilization" territory. Sure, I could shave, but nothing beats the smooth perfection of a proper Brazilian.
And let's be real—with all this realm-hopping madness, who knows where I'll end up next? Not every magical dimension comes equipped with "Ye Olde Brazilian Waxing Shoppe." I lucked out in Luminara with their fairy beautification tools, but I'm not about to save the universe while rocking a full-on 70's-style situation down there. Last thing I need is to be facing down Moretemis looking like I've got Chewbacca in a headlock between my thighs.
Executive decision made—Rhyland can flex those magnificent biceps all he wants—I'm taking my girl gang out. Lilith's stuck doing her vampire zombie walk after sundown anyway, and I refuse to go full cavewoman.
Last week's plot twist—Lucian discovered Kyle—his right-hand enabler—was Lilith's puppet. One Jedi mind trick later (compulsion inception, anyone?), mystery solved on how Psycho Queen knew when to crash Karma with her wolf pack. Nothing says trust issues like finding out your business partner's brain got vampire-hacked.
In a move that screams "questionable life choices," Lucian insisted I sign the deed to his precious nightclub—claiming I'm the only one he trusts. So now I'm the proud owner of both his properties, which sounds fancy until you realize I'm basically the magical doorman deciding which fanged party-goers get access. But it's become a 24/7 headache. My phone blows up at all hours with texts like "Princess, Kyle says there's a 400-year-old Romanian countess at the door who claims she once shared a victim with Vlad the Impaler. Be a dear and verbally invite her in?"
So I guess I'm Karma's bouncer with the ultimate "You're Not On The List" power. Suck it, Lilith.
