heal, leaving him to suffer through every excruciating moment.
Dorian glanced out the kitchen window, searching for the wolf who’d bit him. A few patrolled the perimeter, the rest of them still scouring the woods for the rogues. The sight of so many wolves in one place was beyond unusual, especially for a man like Cole.
He’d always preferred his own company to the complex, often violent dynamics of pack life. It was something he and Dorian had in common.
“And your new friends?” Dorian asked. “How did they get involved in your little hunt?”
Cole took the chair across from him and set the jug of moonshine on the table, pushing aside a pile of junk—pizza boxes, a palette sticky with acrylic paints, an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts, half-spent joint balanced on the rim.
Dorian tried to recall the last time he’d seen the man—five years ago, maybe six. There was a time—after everything had gone to shit and Dorian’s brothers had left New York—when they’d hike the woods together almost every weekend, often with Aiden in tow. But Cole had become even more reclusive than Dorian in recent years, often losing himself in his next masterpiece for weeks or months at a time.
Dorian had missed him, he realized now. Cole’s land truly was a favorite place, just like he’d told Charlotte. Like so many things in his life, it reminded him of simpler times.
Perhaps that’s why he kept returning, long after his old friend had retreated.
Perhaps he was searching for that elusive connection to brighter memories, just as Charlotte sought her father through their shared love of art.
Charlotte…
Dorian took another sip of his drink, obliterating thoughts of the traitor before they sank their claws in any deeper.
“Called in a few favors,” Cole said now. “They’re helping me with the search. Last thing I need is a bunch of rogue killers making themselves at home on my property.”
“How many are you tracking?”
“A dozen, give or take. Hard to tell with all the mud.” Cole took a long pull from his drink, then shook his head. “All month, things ain’t been right. I could feel it, Red. The woods, the air… I’d go out there to paint, and I’d get them chills on the back of my neck, like someone was watching me.”
Dorian shifted in his chair, holding back a shiver that had nothing to do with the ice on his shoulder.
“Few days back,” Cole said, “the animal carcasses started turning up. Four deer so far, and two black bear cubs, along with a shit ton of raccoons and rodents. One look, and I knew exactly what we were dealin’ with.”
“How so?”
“Too brutal to be a natural predator, but too…” He stared into his glass, searching for the word. “Too specific to be human hunters.”
“Specific?”
“Throats torn clear out. Blood drained. No signs of struggle though, thank fuck. I doubt those animals suffered—it happened too fast.”
Dorian took a deep breath of cigarette-and-marijuana-tinged air, his mind churning. He couldn’t imagine why any vampire would do such a thing. Animal blood didn’t sustain them, and most vampires with a taste for mutilation preferred human victims.
“It doesn’t add up,” Dorian said. “If not for the blood, I’d say we were dealing with something else.”
“Ain’t just the blood.” Cole fished something from the pocket of his flannel and tossed it on the table.
Fangs. They scattered between them like dice, jagged and broken, stained with blood and rot
Dread pooled in Dorian’s stomach. Vampires didn’t lose their fangs.
But the wraiths did—those vile, inhuman creatures without access to human blood, bound to misery in the dark, dank places of the world.
Dorian selected one of the sharp, yellowed bones from the table, turning it over against his palm. “There haven’t been any reported sightings of the grays in decades.”
Grays. A mildly pleasant euphemism for monsters that were anything but.
“Near as I can tell, they’re coming from up north. Probably a cluster of ‘em holed up somewhere in the Adirondacks.” Cole scratched his scruffy beard, his brow creasing. “Any idea what would bring ‘em down our way? Can’t imagine they’re here to pay respects to the late king.”
“Nor to swear fealty to the new one.”
“I’m bettin’ not, your highness.” Cole grinned, a moment of levity that brightened the dark night. “Gotta admit, I didn’t think the ol’ man would ever kick off.”
“No one was more surprised than I, believe me.”
“I’d say sorry, but I know how you felt about him.”
Dorian appreciated the man’s honesty. “The world is certainly a better place without Augustus Redthorne.”
“Can’t