Blood and Moonfire

Ashenveil sat precisely on the boundary line between two territories — werewolf land to the north, vampire domain to the south. Humans living there learned young to keep their curtains drawn after dark, bolt their doors before sunset, and never, under any circumstances, ask questions about the sounds that sometimes split the night like torn fabric. It was a town that survived by looking away. Mara Voss had grown up in Ashenveil her entire seventeen years. She knew the rules instinctively, had followed them faithfully without a single complaint. She knew which streets to avoid after dusk. She knew not to linger near the northern woods or walk too close to the old stone bridge that marked the southern boundary. She knew how to be invisible in a town that rewarded invisibility above everything else. She was good at it. Remarkably good. Which made it particularly unfortunate that on the night of the autumn blood moon, when the sky burned deep amber and the air smelled of something ancient and electric, something from both sides of the border stopped directly outside her window and began arguing loudly, intensely, and unmistakably about her specifically. Mara set down her book. Slowly. Her heart was beating faster than she would like to admit. Whatever was outside her window, it knew her name.