Nobody in their town trusted vampires. Everett was still dumbstruck by his father's harsh words and warning. They treated their family's image as if their strict rules were gospel to live by. It wasn't like he bore responsibilities for the council or cared about politics. He was merely a librarian. Why did his relationships matter?

"Nothing good comes from messing around with bloodsuckers," Rowena advised him as she floated in circles around his desk.

"Kieran's helping me investigate your murder," Everett pointed out. "Aside from me, he's the only one who believes foul play is involved."

"Hmm, then you should invite him back here. Your folks never visit the library."

Everett drummed his fingers against his desk. "True."

Rowena swooped over to the side of his swivel chair, hovering over him with concern. "You're not about to faint again, are you?"

"What? No, why?"

"Your amulet. It's glowing again." Rowena gestured to his chest.

Everett groaned before yanking it off his neck and tucking it into one of his desk drawers. "There. Now, I don't have to worry about it."

"It doesn't work that way," Rowena's voice came out hoarse, soft-spoken.

"What do you mean?" Everett narrowed his eyes toward her as she slipped away. "Are you withholding evidence from me? Come on, you must trust me by now, Rowena."

"I'm forbidden to speak of it," Rowena said.

"Who forbid you?" Everett asked with a frown. "Just tell me about the amulets. Ours are identical, so they surely came from the same origins."

Rowena pursed her lips, shaking her head. "I have no idea where I got my amulet from."

Realization dawned on Everett as he stared at her, speechless. He'd tried to ask her more about it, even after disclosing everything they'd uncovered so far, yet she couldn't answer. No wonder Angelica found it so peculiar that she didn't recall where her amulet came from. Someone used mind tampering magic on her. Even in death, the effects hadn't worn off.

"The... Evidence." Everett cautioned. "Is it connected?"

"Yes, the evidence was created by a masterful spellcaster in your family."

Spellcastor was an archaic term for powerful wizard, meaning his mother might not have lied about where his amulet came from. But they also gave one to Rowena? How strange. Why did his mother insist on him keeping one? They weren't the same amulet either, as Everett had possessed his far longer.

"Did yours have black mag-" He stopped himself. "Um, powers. Did yours have dark powers in it?"

"No. Only mine. It protects us."

Does it really? Everett wondered as he pulled his from the desk drawer, no longer glowing. "How about this? Does it have someone else's powers?"

Rowena shook her head. "Just yours."

"Mine?" Everett tilted his head in bewilderment. "I've never cast any death curses."

Perhaps it was an extra safety measure to protect him after being poisoned? Maybe his didn't contain dark magic, but instead, protective barrier magic. Such things weren't just limited to homes or establishments, they could be blessed in items. The amulet lit up when he was near that cursed head of Richard's, subsequently forcing him into slumber. That didn't explain why Rowena's memories had been tampered with to forget about her amulet. Clearly, her own sister had been befuddled about it.

Everett kept thinking the worst about his amulet, as if it were cursed with black magic after reading up on the dark arts, he neglected to consider it actually being the luck charm his mother claimed it was. However, there were too many unanswered questions about his own past and Rowena's. He needed to find out what really happened, and the best source of information would be the Supernatural Council Headquarters.

"Rowena, I'm heading out." Everett sprung from his seat, tugging his hood over all of his honey blond hair. He flew across the foyer with a new plan ready to be put into action. "I'll lock up and leave one candle on in case I'm not back before nightfall. If Kieran drops by, can you let him know where I've gone?"

"Of course." Anxious eyes stared back into his as she reached for his arm, sending gooseflesh across his skin. "Please, be careful. You're far too young to become a ghost."

Everett chuckled. "I'll be fine, don't you worry. I'm going to get us some answers."

Were they answers he really wanted to know?

🪄

Tendrils of mist coiled around him like ghostly snakes. The council's headquarters resembled a skyscraper, soaring up into the puffy white clouds. Acres of woodland closed in around it, warding off any unwanted visitors with the potent magical barriers wrapped around the perimeter. Few vehicles were parked in the lot, alongside Everett's own bicycle. It was a tad too far a distance to just walk.

Wind followed him like an old friend down the cobblestone path. A marble statue of an angel caught his eye, with scripture carved at the bottom. Once he reached the imposing mahogany door, he drew his wand and chanted a soft-spoken spell to allow him entrance. Courtesy of his family for giving him such access. Two guards greeted him, and after ensuring he had no dangerous weapons on him, they allowed him further inside.

Everett made his way toward the stairwell, admiring framed paintings of prominent members of the Supernatural Council. Both his sisters would have their portraits hung there someday, alongside their father and mother's, at the bottom. It was quite rare for men to rank up, but he'd accomplished such a feat. Everett, quite frankly, didn't care for the council.

At the very top of the stairwell, the portrait of a powerful woman with short blonde hair captured his attention. Mrs. Cromwell. She mentored both his sisters. Her own son worked within the council, rumored to have gotten in relationships with wicked men. Everett was grateful not to have such attention drawn to him.

Finally, Everett found the room he desired. It contained all their past cases, extending as far back to the times of the war against vampires centuries ago. He got to digging for Rowena's old case file first, which wasn't too difficult to find. He'd searched it before, but this time, he was looking for different clues.

A diagram showed him the autopsy report, charing every little thing as normal except for a contusion to her head. Scribbles on the chart made it hard to decipher what it said. But Everett realized now it wasn't just a mere note of her hitting her head when she fell unconscious. It was marked for her magic's core.

Everett rubbed his temple uncomfortably. He'd read about wizards who's magic turned against them, flowing out such tremendous powers that it murdered them. What could've possessed Rowena to unleash it? Someone or something must've threatened her, but before she died, they ensured her memories were wiped. It was as if they anticipated her spirit to remain.

Rowena was deemed insanely dramatic by most, claiming her death being a murder as ridiculous. Even Everett brushed her off for so long. He felt bad about it, wishing now he'd taken her seriously before.

Nothing else in her records showed that someone attacked her. Everything was charted as normal, ruling her death as natural causes. But that wasn't true at all. Why would someone cover it up? Was it possible that someone on the council wanted to keep her murder a secret? If so, why?

After searching through Rowena's casefile, he found himself scouring through files to find information about himself. It took some time, but he located what he needed. Back from when he was kidnapped.

With trembling hands, Everett sifted through the paperworks. Dates documented the time and day he was taken. Right out in broad daylight, walking home from wizardry school. The hunters claimed to be working for the Supernatural Council and told him that his mom wanted them to pick him up. Everett didn't listen. So they resorted to forcefully dragging him into their van, jabbing him with a concoction to render him unconscious. There was a witness.

Rowena Lianorin.

Everett's eyes widened like saucers. He'd never known about that. Rowena witnessed his kidnapping all those years ago? Why had she never mentioned it? Why didn't she try to stop them? It was difficult for Everett not to want to blame her, but she was an adult! Who just stood by and watched a child be taken? If Everett ever saw such a thing, he'd follow those bastards. He wouldn't dare leave that child all alone with them.

More notes jotted down his condition when they found him. Everett never knew how unruly he'd been, even attempting to fight off the officers who came to his rescue. He was traumatized and slowly dying from that poison they filled him with. Everett skimmed over the details he already knew about, like how they strung him to trees or let him wander the thick evergreens while he bled from lacerations inflicted to every inch of his body. Blood lured in vampires and all kinds of wicked creatures.

Through all the terror he felt he was reliving, he found some ghastly drawings of demons. They were created by him as a child. Unfamiliar demonic creatures, depicted in colorful markers, were labeled as friends. Everett frowned. Was it a coping mechanism, maybe? He remembered nothing of demons. Small symbols for summoning circles filled the drawings and Everett struggled to piece it all together. What the hell really happened to him?