Page 17 of No One’s Daughter

Which meant that this scent right here… should not exist.

I turned my head slightly, meeting Marlette’s gaze. “A rogue one?”

“Could be, but I think there's a more likely scenario—a newbie.”

“We’ve had no reports of rogues of late, especially in the upper city so I guess that fits. But a newbie? Why would anyone turn them only to leave them? Here… where their presence would mean instant death. I’m not picking up any other scents. Whoever made this mess, did so alone.”

Marlette smacked her lips in concentration. She took a moment to think.

“A dhampir perhaps? I’ve heard there are a few down south.” She finally suggested.

“Valerius’s?”

“My guess is as good as yours, Davien.”

A dhampir was a plausible explanation. It fit the scene—the kill. If a dhampir had become of age, they would have little control over themselves, including their need to feed, which would explain the lack of control and the mess of the killing. Whatsmore, if it was one of Valerius’s, it would explain why it was alone. Valerius—the prince of vampires and head of the Ninth had fathered several dhampirs in an attempt to grow his personal armies, taking no care to keep track of who was born. He treated it as a test; if they found their way back to him he deemed them worthy of his presence. Fully knowing that most wouldn’t survive the transition. He didn’t follow the old laws, hating those who did. He had no respect for life.

​“Let’s see if we can pick up a trail then, get this dealt with so we can carry on chasing our tails on our never ending hunt of the unknown.” I said.

Marlette let out a quiet, amused breath as she crouched beside the victim, drawing in a measured inhale, committing the scent to memory.

She moved first.

I followed.

The trail was faint, but it was there—threading though the alley and towards the adjoining building. Nothing about it was concealed. If anything, it felt careless.

Or inexperienced.

We entered without resistance, the door at the rear was left unsecured, and we made our way inside. The building was old—narrow corridors, peeling paint with the faint smell of damp clinging to the walls.

Interestingly, the victim’s scent lingered strongly here, insinuating that they resided here… along with the predator that had ended their life.

“A couple?” I suggested.

Marlette paused for a moment, then shook her head. “No, his scent is concentrated here at this door and the one further down the hall,” she said, nodding to the door at the end of the small hallway. “This other scent is only mingled with his down here.”

Marlette took the stairs first, leading us up a steep, narrow flight of creaking wood that protested under even the smallest shift in weight.

“I hate old stairs like this,” I muttered, ducking slightly to avoid catching my head on the low ceiling.

“Not my fault you're too tall,” she replied, a hint of a smirk in her voice as she continued upward without slowing.

I exhaled through my nose but said nothing further.

She stopped on the landing, head tilting slightly as she followed the scent, then lifted a hand, indicating to the plain, unremarkable door in front of us.

“This one.”

I stepped past her and knocked.

Once. Twice.

Silence.

No movement within. No shift in the air. No nervous heartbeat.

I didn’t bother waiting any longer. A brief adjustment, a subtle shift of pressure and the lock gave with little resistance.