The forest was quiet—too quiet.
Which, of course, meant something stupid was about to happen.
Alex Dragonheart stood under the canopy of whispering leaves, arms crossed, one brow arched as seven figures in dark, crimson-accented cloaks emerged from the mist. They moved with eerie grace, silent, regal, and unsettlingly in sync.
"Oh look," Alex muttered. "A dramatic entrance. Haven't seen one of those in twenty minutes."
The lead vampire, a tall man with ash-white hair and crimson eyes glowing faintly, stepped forward. His voice was smooth as velvet, but carried the chill of death.
"Alex Dragonheart. Our mistress summons you."
Alex blinked. "Summons? Wow. That sounds important. Should I bring flowers?"
None of the vampires reacted.
Alex grinned wider. "Let me rephrase: No thanks. I don't do cult meetings, and I definitely don't follow orders from bloodsuckers."
Another vampire hissed. "You would defy the command of Lilith Noctis Bloodrose?"
