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New Year’s was a big deal in this city. It was a time of celebration and a coming together for all supernatural species, where we welcomed the possibility and hope that a brand-new year signified. And Angela was correct. I did have plans, but first, I needed to go home for a shower and a quick nap.
2.
I stood close to the pier, staring out at the water. All was calm. A crescent moon shone in the sky, surrounded by stars. When the magical fireworks display took place at midnight, the sky would be rendered even more magnificent.
I was waiting for my best friend and cousin, Grace, to show up. The usual New Year’s festivities were being held farther down the pier, disguised by a magical glamour to remain unseen by human eyes. My whole family was there, but Grace and I planned to sneak away to the harbour for a while. We were going to climb onto one of the fishing boats, gaze at the stars and talk about all manner of random, meaningless things that entertained us.
Grace and I tended to be a little bit anti-social. We were a pair. Stuck together in all things. Having grown up together, we’d always been incredibly close. Grace was a full-blooded vampire, born to parents killed during the war right before I was born. She’d been a baby at the time, and my uncle, Gabriel, and his husband, Alvie, decided to adopt her.
Since we were so close in age, we ended up doing everything together, going through every benchmark moment of childhood and adolescence side by side. The fact that we were two of the few blood-drinkers at our school made us even more bonded. Most of the students who attended St. Bastian’s were witches and warlocks, hailing from the twelve magical families. These families consisted of humans with an innate affinity for magic and the power to wield it through spells and incantations.
The rest of the student population was made up of elves, shapeshifters, and yes, even a handful of demons. Since vampires could live for a thousand years, very few of them were teenaged like Grace. And because dhampirs like me and my sister, Rebecca, were a product of the union between a vampire and a human, we were extremely rare. Most dhampir pregnancies didn’t make full-term. My own mother had almost died giving birth to me.
Grace and I’d been enjoying the Christmas break from school these last few weeks, spending almost all our time together. I was dreading going back because we would be inevitably torn apart. Since I was half-witch on my mother’s side, I had to attend magic lessons, which, truth be told, I wasn’t a giant fan of. These lessons began at midday, but because Grace was a vampire and nocturnal, her lessons began late in the evening, so our timetables rarely synced up.
Speaking of my cousin, I spotted her in the distance as she approached. Beside her was her neighbour, Nic Baumann, a warlock who hung out with us from time to time. Grace, who never met a waif or stray she didn’t like, had taken Nic under her wing years ago. Nic was medium height with bright blue eyes, glasses, sandy coloured hair, and a fringe that hung over his face. I suspected he liked to hide behind it, mainly because he was one of the most awkward, shyest boys I’d ever met.
“Hey,” I called out. “You’re late.”
Grace smiled. “My parents wanted me to ride the merry-go-round with them at the fair. It’s our latest New Year’s tradition.”
I sputtered a laugh because the image of my tough as boots, tom-boy, vampire cousin riding a merry-go-round with her dads was simply hilarious.
“Nic was at a loose end tonight, so I invited him to join us,” Grace went on. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” I said. “Hey, Nic.”
“Hello,” he replied, barely meeting my gaze. I thought I even caught a faint blush tint his cheeks. Completely adorable.
We started walking toward the harbour, and I spotted an empty boat that looked like it’d be a good drinking spot. Then, as we neared it, I saw a flame light in the dark. Someone was standing close to the boat and had just lit a cigarette. As he came into view, my pulse sped up.
Peter Girard.
He was a warlock who I shared a lot of classes with at St. Bastian’s. He also belonged to the Girard magical family, a family who lost much of their high standing due to Peter’s great-uncle’s actions during the war. Marcel Girard had been an enemy of my parents, and he’d plotted against them numerous times, ultimately resulting in him being exiled from Tribane. When he tried to return a year later, my father had no choice but to sentence him to life in the Prison of Thorns. The remaining Girard family members were considered almost untouchable after that, though my father didn’t seek to punish them, still allowing them to live and work freely in the city and their children to attend St. Bastian’s.
