Inkwell of Shadows 3: Vows and Fangs

November 2, 2024. Morning in our apartment above Moonlight Curiosities. Two days into married life, and already the world refused to mind its own business.

Author’s Note: Inkwell of Shadows is a serialized fiction story in Moonlight Curiosity Mysteries, set in Blighridge County, Alabama. A quiet corner of the world where old ghost linger, cursed objects refuse to stay quiet, and some secrets never stay buried—at least, for long.

New installments or chapters will materialize every Monday…

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Previously. The rescue came fast and furious but also arrived with a cost. Valeria Moffet didn’t go quietly, nor was she willing to go alone. With the life of a second victim in the balance nearby, Daniel and Cassidy worked together to end the threat of the bloodleech killer. But victory came hard, with Daniel and Cassidy being hurt in the process. As the dust settled, all that remained was to bandage wounds, call the sheriff, and find a way to less terrifying tomorrows… or so they thought…

November 2, 2024. Morning in our apartment above Moonlight Curiosities. Two days into married life, and already the world refused to mind its own business.

Yesterday turned out to be the champion of a rough day. After twelve hours at Magnolia Regional for treatment, then three interviews with Sheriff Branham over ‘burnt dust’, we were allowed to come home. I crashed immediately to sleep.

Cassidy slept peacefully in bed beside me. Shoulder-length auburn curls made a soft frame around her furry, bat-shaped face. One forearm wing was even draped over me like a shield. I watched her slowly flex her claws while she dreamed. She hadn’t bothered to shift fully human for sleep since Briarwood.

Still, it felt good to be alive.

Sunlight sneaked in around the dark green bedroom curtains, carrying the reminder that we nearly died two nights ago. I took a slow, quiet breath of welcome air.

“I’m sorry, Cassie,” I murmured under my breath. “This wasn’t how I hoped any of this would go. I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”

Memories of what happened ran through my mind in lurid detail. They lingered like a waking nightmare, unwilling to let go. Sure, Cassidy and I survived, but the whole moment was a thorn in my mind.

Especially around Valeria Moffet—my would-be murderer.

I closed my eyes as the memories ran over me. That too-sharp sensation when I was yanked through the antique bay window of our shop. The sting of shattered glass, and the brutal bite of Valeria’s claws, blurred with the echo of my screams. It was a bloody symphony in agony-minor.

All of it because she wanted our antique shop for herself.

Valeria’s skeletal talons, needle-like teeth, and that distorted smile were permanently etched in my mind. Then there were the bodies in the cellar. The horror of what she did to those people as they died was burned into my memory as well.

Monsters don’t let go of you easily—even when you survive, and they don’t.

A gust of autumn wind outside nudged the building, and a loose board somewhere in the attic creaked in protest. Then there was the soft brush of the Spanish moss kissing the bedroom window with a gentle whisper.

It was eerie, but also comforting in its own way. I had grown accustomed to city noises, but this small town life was a welcome change. Taking another deep breath, I watched Cassidy in her sleep.

Even in the morning light, Cassidy’s fine brown fur looked warm and comforting where it wasn’t hidden by bandages. Just seeing her here alive chased the demons out of my head.

Valeria had clawed her up pretty badly as well. But since Cassidy was a skinshaper, she’d heal back up pretty fast. I wasn’t so lucky. We humans tended to heal a bit slower.

My phone buzzed, shattering the calm mood.

“Oh, now what?” I breathed.

I grabbed the thing, then scrolled through the messages. After a quick couple of replies, I set the phone down to find Cassidy watching me. Her large black bat eyes glimmered with curiosity, interest, and something more mysterious.

“Hey there,” I said softly, laying back down next to her.

“Hey yourself,” she said in her soft Southern drawl. “Who was that?”

“One was Tobias about the repairs to the store downstairs. He’s still looking for the materials he needs for the window frame. It’s pretty messed up, and he wants to match the wood. But he’s got the replacement glass.” I pursed my lips, then took in a small breath. “The other was from work. Well, former work.”

Cassidy scowled at the latter, flicking a pointed ear.

“Why?” She stretched the word until I thought it would snap.

I frowned, trying to wave the topic off.

“No, it’s not pestering me for freelance work, software designs they won’t pay me fairly for, or ‘can you do just one more thing?’. It was just three messages hoping we’re okay, followed by a ‘call us if you’re ever ready to consult.’ It seems state and local news picked up on what happened last night and they all saw it. News media is calling it a ‘serial killer attack’ that was stopped by ‘brave local residents’.”

Cassidy groaned, burying her head in the pillow. Slowly, she flexed her claws against the bed.

“Serial killer?” she muttered, glancing back at me. “Well, at least they’re half-right. Bloodleeches are serial killers, among all the other nasty things they like to do.”

Then she tilted her head at me with a grin, flicking an ear at me once more.

“But that means I mostly get you all to myself today!”

“Yes, you do,” I grinned.

Cassidy slid over, folding her forearm wings back as she wrapped her arms around me. I flinched a little, my body still angry at the abuse I took the other night. Worry flickered across her eyes for a second, but snuggled close when I smiled.

“Good. Because I have plans for you, husband,” she purred. A mischievous glimmer shone in her solid, dark eyes.

“Oh, really?” I teased. “Aren’t we a bit beat up?”

“Careful plans,” she replied with a kiss.

It took at least a full hour to enjoy her plans, and I had no complaints. After that, we dragged ourselves breathlessly out of bed, dressed, then headed for the kitchen. Breakfast was on the menu, along with a start to our day.

We’d only just finished eating, and started on the dishes, when the downstairs shop bell rang. A short, polite knock followed it a few seconds later.

“But we’re closed for repairs,” I muttered, wiping my hands on a dishtowel. “There’s a boarded up, blood-stained hole in the front window and everything.”

“Also, we put a sign up,” Cassidy added suspiciously.

We rushed down the steps from our apartment into the shop.

The shop itself was quiet, with antiques waiting where we left them in locked cabinets or on wooden shelves. But still, the air felt tense, if not heavy. Before we reached the front door, Cassidy had slipped back into her human disguise complete with green eyes and freckles.

Past the frosted glass in the dark wooden door, we saw a tall man standing outside. I swapped a suspicious glance with Cassidy before unlocking it to see what he wanted.

“Daniel and Cassidy Hawthorne?” The man’s manners, even his New England accent, were like silk. “Dorian Callix,” he said with a polite smile.

The man was tall and thin, with slicked-back sandy hair and a gaze that didn’t quite look at you. Instead, he looked through you, or even into you. I had to admit, he was dressed with impeccable taste—somewhere between a low-rent fashion plate and upscale life insurance salesman. His light windbreaker and gray-and-white clothing were perfectly pressed. A faint, sweet scent rode the autumn air around him, like a dusty cinnamon that was just a bit wrong.

Dorian looked more like the idealized idea of a stylish person than a real one. It was a little unsettling. His eyes slid over the antique shop’s blood-stained front window to his right. Then he smiled—thin, polite, and just a little too deliberate to be comfortable.

“If you’ve time, and aren’t too busy,” he said, stretching the word a bit, “I’d like to come in and discuss some matters of interest with you both.”

Cassidy darted in front of me even as Dorian made the request. Her disguise dropped just enough to bare fangs and claws, every muscle in her shoulders coiled for a fight.

“Bloodleech,” she growled, sniffing the air.

The memory of Valeria’s giggles ran through my head. I gripped the door handle hard enough to choke it.

Dorian held up his hands in a peaceful gesture.

“Truce, skinshaper. Truce. I’m here in full good faith,” he said carefully. Dorian’s gray eyes were cold and calculating. Wary. The autumn air turned tense. “Also, I wanted to thank you… both of you… in person.”

“What?” I snapped.

He interlaced his fingers in front of him with a thin smile.

“I’ll explain.” He took a long breath. “Valeria Moffet was what you’d call my ‘maker’—though that term flatters her way too much, and isn’t entirely accurate. She was a bit careless, often caught up too much in her own appetites.”

He shifted his weight, then gestured to us.

“When news of you two spread among the creatures of the night, some believed it, some didn’t. Those that did believe, were upset or curious.”

“They’re jealous,” Cassidy growled, still eager for that fight.

The bloodleech shrugged. “Hm, probably, or thought you had found some advantage they didn’t. Valeria was one of those. She wanted whatever it was, or at least to feast on you two like some new exotic, imported candy. The curious ones? They’re just that. Curious. Especially since this sort of thing is rare enough to begin with.”

“Where do you fall?” I asked sharply, not quite itching for a fight.

“Oh, I’m the latter,” Dorian replied with a soft chuckle. “I try not to be stupid, and stick my fingers in an obvious blender, hm?”

He punctuated that with a glance at Cassidy’s claws, raising his eyebrows.

“You see, you two helped me move up a bit in bloodleech ‘society’, such as it is. So, I’m in your debt. Also—” he hesitated, weighing his words “—Valeria wasn’t working alone, whether she knew it or not. Which means, someone has to clean up the mess, which would be me.”

Dorian glanced up and down the sidewalk as the fall leaves blew along the tree-lined street. A couple of the older locals, on their way to Miss Milly’s diner, slowed down enough to stare.

Cassidy stepped back far enough to be out of sight, but remained close enough to be a very clear and present danger.

The man cleared his throat, before pulling on that too-smooth grin again. He nodded toward the doorway.

“If I may? It’s a bit chilly today. There really is something potentially lucrative I’d like to talk about. We could continue this inside where we’re out of the wind… prying eyes,” he raised his eyebrows, “and ears? Gloamstead is a rather small town.”

I swapped a glance with Cassidy. A silent conversation that said a thousand things and expressed even more concerns.

Dorian’s smile turned tense and worried.

“You have my word. I’m no threat to your little family. Nor is any bloodleech that owes me in any way.”

Cassidy sighed and nodded. We stepped aside to let him in.

“There’s a small office to the left of the checkout counter, over by the vintage lamps.” I indicated a path between shelves of hand-carved wooden boxes, and a few well-preserved, iron railroad spikes.

“Thank you,” he replied with a gracious smile.

Casually, he strolled over to the office, but took great care to avoid the railroad spikes. His eyes traveled over the rust-freckled iron. There was a brief twitch of distaste, like he’d caught a whiff of something sour. Overall, Dorian gave the shelf a wide berth.

“I don’t trust this,” I whispered. “He wants something more than business.”

Cassidy clenched her jaw, then took a long, slow breath. Gently, she shifted all the way human, putting a hand on my arm and squeezing lightly.

“I really don’t trust him either,” she said, voice low. “But he gave his word. For a bloodleech that’s a really big deal.”

She took another long, deep breath, then stroked my arm a little with a hand. I could tell it was to reassure her as much as it was for me.

“I hate this,” she grumbled. “I really do hate this, Daniel. Especially after the other night.”

I resisted flinching at the mention of the fight with Valeria in Briarwood Manor. Instead, I held her hand, kissing her knuckles.

“Me too.” A sigh drained out of me. “But… he mentioned something ‘lucrative’ and we need the money for that window and the other damages.”

Cassidy gave the boarded up bay window the same look you’d give a wedding cake that had collapsed in the middle of your own reception.

“Yeah, I know.”

I frowned at the office. “Cassie? If he gets out of hand, we kick him out. Deal?”

She gave me a quick kiss on the lips with a small smile.

“Deal.”

We crossed the main storefront to see just what kind of trouble our unusual, and mostly unwanted guest, had dropped at our doorstep.

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Moonlight Curiosity Mysteries is a work of pure, unabashed fiction. To be honest, it’s a bit creepy, if not spooky, when is isn’t beside itself with nerves. It tends to be a little shy. Did I mention it likes to needlepoint because there’s lots of stabbing? Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Which means, really, he gets all the blame.

Any resemblance to persons living, dead, undead, or why-aren’t-they-dead-YET is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot. Like daily.