Magic opened a realm of opportunities for murder.

Evil crept through the gloom of the town and slithered beneath the moonlight like serpents. The blizzard hadn't deterred the hunters as they reached the mountainside of Nevermourn and continued toward a log cabin in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a myriad of snow-capped trees.

Asher peeked out the frosted window when the hunters came knocking on his door. Two muscle-bound men with skin as pale as the moon stood on his porch, clad in layers of thick black attire. Silver cross pendants adorned their necks and their eyes glowed a reddish-brown shade. Silverblood Hunters. Even worse.

It was too early to deal with Silverbloods. Asher hadn't even had a chance to pour himself his coffee yet.

Although he considered ignoring them, Asher's curiosity bested him and he cracked the door open. His protective wards wrapped around the cabin to keep any wicked vermin out. Including Silverbloods like them. Only when Asher properly invited them in could they dare cross without exploding their blood and innards all over his foyer like Hell's red river of gore.

The ringleader, with his shaggy crimson ponytail, puffed out his chest as he looked down on Asher, who wore his comfy plaid pajamas and bunny slippers. "You're Asher?"

Asher narrowed his eyes with a frown. "Yeah, who are you? What do you want?"

"We want to hire you," the ponytail man said. "I'm Trubin, and this is Ren. You've worked with the Silverblood's organization before, and I've heard nothing but great things."

"What exactly do you want to hire me for?" Not even his wool fabric fended off the icy sting from the snow flurries as he shivered.

"May we come in?" Trubin asked, his hardened features softening with a smile that came off as predatory rather than comforting. "You'll catch your death out in this cold."

"Fine. Take your boots off at the door and follow me into the kitchen. Do not touch anything."

The men exchanged brief glances before piling inside, leaving their soggy boots at the door as instructed. At least they had some decency. An inking in the pit of Asher's chest told him he should've ignored the knocks until they finally gave up, but he needed to know what those Silverblood Hunters wanted from him.

If they dared to harm him or touch anything they shouldn't, his protective charms would make the blood in their arms burst from the flesh like erupting volcanoes. Asher did not wish to clean their gross bodily fluids up so early in the morning either. It was his greatest defense against the vampires, and he'd be damned before he ever let one break inside his home again.

Further into the living room, magical trinkets filled a handmade bookshelf covered with ancient spellbooks collected from all across the lands. He even had a couple rare editions of vampire hunter biographies - novels full of ways to torture the bloodsuckers.

His loyal husky, Duke, padded into the kitchen with them, and nestled down right in front of the hunters. He glared at them, much like how Asher did.

Ren examined a jar of fangs on his counter beside the herbs, which he had forgotten to put away. Vampire fangs were like gold on the black market, and Asher saved them for when he truly needed the funds. Whatever they wanted couldn't be any worse than his last case.

Two weeks ago, he had set off on a wild goose hunt for some faeries' stolen artifacts that wound up in the possession of some wolf walkers. Never steal from those hairy mutts. Not even if they claimed it was rightfully theirs, which might've been true, but he didn't stick around to let his bones become their new chew toys.

Some of the fae owed him a favor now after returning their artifact so that had made the horrific adventure worth it all. Those damned Silverblood hunters better be willing to offer something just as good if they truly wanted his help.

The hunters had sat down, eyeing him like a piece of fresh meat. Their tall, formidable builds made his table and chairs akin to a child's set. It wasn't like he was in any position to fend himself off against two goons triple his size with several years' of experience on him, but he wouldn't become their lackey. He had enough dignity to know when he should turn down a job.

If they weren't satisfied with his response and wanted to fight, they either had the choice of exploding their innards or letting Duke get new chew toys. As his familiar, Duke was trained to hunt down vampires and rip their throats out.

Most Silverbloods were bastard dhampirs, despised by humankind and rejected by the vampires. Asher had heard of many tales during his time in his home country of Valorath, how vampires stole the innocence of young maidens and forced them to carry their cursed children.

"Tell me what you want." Asher folded his hands together on the table.

"Not even going to offer us refreshments?" Ren asked, flashing his fangs.

"No." Asher cut him a glare. "Either tell me or get out so I can try to enjoy my morning."

"We need your help with tracking a vampire down. Before you object, hear me out." From his overcoat pocket, Trubin produced a leather drawstring pouch with the Marusticia crest of a golden deer embroidered on the side. Gold glistened inside, beckoning for Asher to take it.

As Asher's eyes widened like saucers, he reached out for the precious gold, but the man tucked it back into his coat of many wonders. How much was that? Just the sight almost made him salivate like Duke did with his dog chow. Asher pouted, brows furrowed in disappointment.

"This is all yours if you find the vampire and kill him for us," Trubin said. "Sebastian Wraith has immunity from the Supernatural Council. Hunters are forbidden from going anywhere near him, and he's far more clever than we thought. Despite the laws in place, we tried to catch him during the end of Harvest, but he caught us before we could strike."

"Yeah, vampires have a sixth sense for that kind of thing." Asher reached out for his jar of fangs, shaking the little bottle like it would grant him what he desired. "But you already knew that, right? Why did you believe he wouldn't notice?" He set the jar aside.

"No, we were careful. He toyed around with us until the last minute. That goddamn bloodsucker almost killed us." Trubin bristled. "I don't care about his immunity. He has to die. And you're the one who can do it. You've hunted before." He gestured to the jar of fangs. "From what I heard, you're damn good at it."

Asher spread his hands. "That was the only way I could survive. And sure, I've dabbled in paranormal investigations too, but this is territory I'm not comfortable crossing. This Sebastian has immunity, meaning he must be special to their kind somehow. Their council would execute me if I killed him and they found me responsible."

Blood tainted his vision. Staked vampire corpses flashed through his mind as hunters triumphantly piled their remains into a pyre, leaving the air thick with the stench of burnt flesh and death. Asher recoiled and focused his attention back on the two goons sitting at his kitchen table, ruining his morning.

"The council doesn't even know about you hidden up in these mountains," Ren scoffed. "Hell, you even went up against a pack of wolf walkers and didn't die. I don't see why this bothers you so much."

Asher shrugged. "That's true, but I didn't murder those wolf walkers either. Vampire hunting is illegal in Nevermourn, unless they've broken the sacred laws protecting us from them. It's a risk I'm not willing to take. "

"I was afraid you might say that." Trubin reached into his pocket, sliding an envelope across the table. "Take a look. I think this will change your mind."

Asher snatched the envelope and tore it open. He recognized the cursive handwriting immediately. What the hell was his father doing, involving other hunters in his messes? Asher pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan.

As he read further, he understood what fueled their hatred toward the vampire. They suspected him of killing a teenage wizard, draining the young girl's blood and harvesting the organs. Revulsion churned in Asher's stomach when he read over the autopsy reports his father had provided within his letter.

If his father suspected the vampire had murdered an innocent girl, then how could he refuse? Blood evidence traced back to the vampire Sebastian Wraith, who had left the hollow cadaver of Willow Penderwind in the forest two days ago. How come the Supernatural Council hadn't caught wind of the murder yet? Were they also afraid of this Sebastian?

"I'll require a retainer fee," Asher said. "After your failed hunt, he'll probably go into hiding. It might take me a while to find him. You said Sebastian's no fool, so he'll know that others will be after him."

Trubin smirked. "Of course. Anything you need, please let us know. Here's a sketch of the bloodsucker. We got our best artist to replicate his features." He handed him a crumpled sheet of paper from his overcoat pocket.

Asher accepted it, scrutinizing the bloodsucker's features. Crimson eyes like the devil's glared into his soul. And that sinister smirk, exposing two pointed fangs, roused familiar vengeance locked deep within his heart. Dark navy-hued embers pulsed from his fingertips as he clutched the sketch.

Asher cleared his voice. "There's one thing. Why did my father send you here instead of asking me himself? Or is that question above your pay grade?"

"Gabriel is a busy man, you understand? Otherwise, he'd have come himself. There's been a lot of uproar amongst the Supernatural Council lately, and as head of the hunters, they've required his assistance with other cases," Trubin explained. "I want Sebastian's severed head on a platter more than anyone here, but we need someone who can manipulate him. We need your talents to kill him."

"Like I tell everyone who comes through this door, there's no guarantees. I can't just magically snap my fingers and his head falls off."

"Don't sell yourself short." Trubin leaned back in his chair and exposed yellow-stained teeth as he grinned. Asher cringed. Guess nobody taught him proper dhampir dental hygiene. "You can kill this bloodsucker, Asher. With our help, of course. You just summon us on your globe whenever you need. I know the drill, and I hope to be in touch."

Before leaving, Trubin provided a blood sample in a tiny test tube collected from the crime scene and paid his retainer's fee. Asher suspected his father had told them all about how his magic abilities worked. Yet there was something nagging in the back of his mind, about why his father couldn't have asked him to find Sebastian himself. Especially if he was that much of a threat.

Despite his reluctance, Asher wasted no time fetching his small caldron from the living room bookcase. Intricate engravings circled the caldron, with blessings from the Gods. Magic derived from the heavens and Asher did his best to honor them when he used his divination.

He gathered his necessary ingredients after filling the caldron with warm water. Asher had performed the divination magic countless times before, but it brought ripples of excitement through his core. As he channeled his magic into the caldron, he dribbled in the bits of blood provided to him.

Bubbles filled the caldron as magical energy pulsed through the water. The clearness faded and blurred shapes came into view within seconds. Willow appeared with curly red hair, running through the snowy grounds of Nevermourn's forest. She looked behind her, eyes widening as she opened her mouth to scream.

Bloodied jowls filled the water and revealed pointed fangs as the creature attacked the girl. Unfortunately, the image didn't provide a clear picture of her assailant. The magic faded, and the water reverted back to its normal state. One thing Asher knew for sure. The killer was a vampire.

After he had cleaned up, Asher stashed the gold away and placed the vial of remaining blood in an old jewelry box that had belonged to his mother, still filled with all her favorite trinkets and beautiful necklaces. The only pieces of her that he had left.

A deal made in gold and blood. What in the hells could possibly go wrong?