Leona had been instructed by her father to begin her training and she knew she couldn't delay it any longer.
It was barely sunrise when Leona arrived at the training grounds. Alora was already there, stretching in fluid motions that made the complicated movements look effortless.
"You're late," Alora said without turning around.
"By three minutes," Leona replied, dropping her bag near the fence.
"Three minutes is enough time to die in a real fight." Alora finally faced her, arms crossed. "Your father wants you ready for the first phase before the full moon. That gives us less than three weeks. We don't have time for tardiness."
Leona nodded, guilt prickling at her. She'd barely slept, her mind replaying the events at the club, the man with black blood, the threatening messages. But she couldn't tell Alora that.
"Let's begin," Alora said. "Standard combat drills first. Then we work on your transformation control."
They started with hand-to-hand combat. Alora was relentless, pushing Leona through sequences that left her breathless and aching. Punch, block, dodge, counter. Over and over until muscle memory took over.
"Focus!" Alora snapped, sweeping Leona's legs out from under her. "You're distracted. Where's your head?"
Leona hit the ground hard, pain shooting up her spine. "I'm focused."
"You're lying." Alora offered her hand and pulled her up. "Whatever's bothering you, leave it outside these grounds. When you're training, nothing else exists. Understand?"
"Yes, ma'am."
They continued, but Leona's mind kept drifting. The scholar. Dorian had mentioned him last night, someone who knew about supernatural creatures beyond werewolves. Someone who might explain the black blood.
"Again!" Alora commanded.
Leona moved through the sequence, but her heart wasn't in it. She needed answers. The threatening text had kept her awake all night. Someone was watching her, knew what she'd seen, and was willing to kill to keep it secret.
"Stop." Alora's voice cut through her thoughts. "What's wrong with you today?"
Leona hesitated. "I'm sorry. I just... I have something important I need to handle."
"More important than your training? More important than becoming Alpha?"
"Yes," Leona said, surprising herself with the firmness in her voice.
Alora studied her for a long moment. "Does your father know about this important thing?"
"Not yet."
"Then it can wait."
"It can't," Leona insisted. "People might die if I don't handle it now."
Alora's expression hardened. "You think being Alpha is just about strength and transformation? It's about sacrifice, Leona. Putting the pack first, always. Even when you don't want to."
"I know that. But this involves the pack. It involves all of us." Leona met her trainer's eyes. "Please. I'll make up the training tomorrow. Double sessions if you want."
Alora shook her head slowly. "Your father is going to hear about this."
"I know."
"And you're going anyway?"
"I have to."
Alora sighed, disappointment clear on her face. "Go. But don't expect me to make excuses for you."
Leona grabbed her bag and ran before Alora could change her mind. She pulled out her phone and called Dorian.
"Hey," he answered. "Aren't you supposed to be training?"
"Change of plans. Can you get Thalia and meet me at the old library? We need to visit that scholar you mentioned."
"Now? Leona, that's probably not a good idea."
"I don't care. I need to know what we're dealing with. Are you coming or not?"
Dorian was quiet for a moment. "Fine. Give us thirty minutes."
Leona waited at the library, pacing restlessly. True to his word, Dorian pulled up exactly thirty minutes later with Thalia in the passenger seat.
"This is a bad idea," Thalia said as Leona climbed into the back.
"You said that already," Leona replied.
"Because it's true. We should tell your father about this."
"And say what? That we broke into a crime scene, found mysterious black blood, and are now consulting a random scholar without permission?"
Thalia turned in her seat. "When you put it like that, it sounds even worse."
"Just drive, Dorian."
The ride to the outskirts of town was tense. The scholar lived in an isolated cottage surrounded by woods, far from both pack territories. Dorian parked down the road, and they walked the rest of the way.
"This place gives me the creeps," Thalia muttered.
The cottage was small but well-maintained, with protective symbols carved into the door frame. Leona knocked three times.
"Go away!" a gravelly voice called from inside.
"We need your help," Leona called back. "It's about something we found. Something dangerous."
Silence. Then the sound of multiple locks being undone. The door opened a crack, revealing a weathered face with sharp eyes.
"Who sent you?" the old man asked.
"No one. We came on our own. Are you Professor Edmund?"
"Depends on who's asking."
"I'm Leona Nightshade. This is Dorian Quinn and Thalia Reed. We're from the Moonshadow pack."
Edmund's eyes widened slightly. "Nightshade? Davion's daughter?"
"Yes."
He looked past them, scanning the woods. "You were followed?"
"No," Dorian said. "We made sure of it."
Edmund studied them for another moment, then sighed. "Come in. Quickly."
The cottage interior was cramped, every surface covered with books, papers, and strange artifacts. The smell of herbs and old parchment filled the air.
"Sit," Edmund commanded, gesturing to a worn couch. "What's this dangerous thing you found?"
Leona pulled out her phone and showed him the photos from the club. Edmund's face went pale as he scrolled through them.
"Where did you get these?" His voice was barely a whisper.
"A club downtown. Two girls were killed. We investigated."
"And you touched the blood?" Edmund looked horrified.
"No," Thalia said quickly. "We just took pictures."
Edmund set the phone down with shaking hands. He moved to a bookshelf and pulled out an ancient-looking tome, flipping through pages frantically.
"Did you bring a sample?" he asked.
Leona pulled out a small vial from her bag. She'd collected some of the black substance on a cotton swab before they left the scene. Edmund took it carefully, holding it up to the light.
"Dear God," he muttered. "I hoped I'd never see this again."
"See what?" Leona pressed. "What is it?"
Edmund sat down heavily, suddenly looking every bit his age. "This blood belongs to creatures thought extinct for centuries. Dhampirs."
"Dhampirs?" Dorian frowned. "Like half-vampires?"
"Not quite. True dhampirs are born from vampire and human unions, and they're incredibly rare. These..." he gestured to the vial, "these are created through dark rituals. Humans transformed through blood magic and forbidden ceremonies. They're faster than werewolves, stronger than humans, and nearly impossible to kill."
Thalia leaned forward. "But vampires aren't real. They're just stories."
Edmund's laugh was bitter. "And humans think werewolves are just stories. We exist, so why wouldn't they?"
"If they're extinct, how are they here?" Leona asked.
"Someone brought them back. Someone with knowledge of the old rituals, access to vampire blood, and no regard for the consequences." Edmund stood and started pulling more books from his shelves. "Dhampirs are created for one purpose: to serve a vampire master. They're soldiers, killers, completely loyal to whoever made them."
"So there's a vampire in West Grove?" Dorian said. "Making these things?"
"At least one. Possibly more." Edmund laid out several books on the table. "These rituals require power, time, and numerous human sacrifices. The fact that you found bodies means they're still in the creation phase. Building an army."
"An army for what?" Leona asked, though she already knew. The prophecy. The witch's warning about an old enemy rising.
Edmund met her eyes. "For war. What else would you need an army of dhampirs for?"
The room went silent. Leona felt ice in her veins. This was bigger than pack rivalry, bigger than anything she'd prepared for.
"We need to tell our alphas," Dorian said. "Both packs. If there's a vampire building an army—"
"They won't believe you," Edmund interrupted. "Most modern werewolves think vampires are extinct. Your fathers will dismiss it as fairy tales."
"Then what do we do?" Thalia asked.
Edmund started gathering books. "We need proof. Solid evidence that even the most skeptical alpha can't deny. I have texts here that describe dhampir behavior, weaknesses, how to identify them. If we can—"
The window exploded inward.
Glass shattered everywhere as figures in black masks burst through. Leona barely had time to react before one was on her, inhumanly fast. She rolled, kicking out, her training taking over.
"Run!" Edmund shouted, throwing a book at an attacker.
Dorian shifted partially, claws extending as he fought off two masked figures. Thalia grabbed a chair and swung it hard, connecting with someone's head.
"The books!" Edmund yelled. "Take the books!"
Leona grabbed what she could, shoving volumes into her bag while fighting off an attacker. The masked figures were strong, too strong, and they moved with supernatural speed.
Edmund threw some kind of powder, and it exploded in a flash of light. "Go! Now!"
They ran for the door. Leona looked back to see Edmund fighting off three attackers, his face determined.
"Professor!" she shouted.
"I said go!"
Dorian grabbed her arm and pulled her outside. They sprinted for the car, footsteps pounding behind them. Thalia reached the car first and had the engine started before Leona and Dorian dove into the back seat.
"Drive!" Dorian yelled.
Thalia hit the gas. Through the rear window, Leona saw the cottage. Smoke was rising from inside, and the masked figures were retreating into the woods.
"We have to go back," Leona said. "Edmund…"
"Is gone," Dorian said quietly. "If we go back, we die too."
Leona's phone buzzed. With trembling hands, she checked it.
The message was from an unknown number: "You b
rought death to an innocent man. How many more will die because of your curiosity?"
Her heart stopped.