Carmen and Eleazar
The Denali coven's kitchen was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fireplace and the occasional whisper of snow brushing the windowpanes. Carmen sat at the head of the wooden table, her fingers wrapped around a mug of tea she would never drink. The warmth still comforted her, even if the ritual felt hollow. Across the room, Eleazar leaned against the counter, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed, his posture calm but his expression tense.
"She hasn't been back to the Haven since that night," Carmen murmured, her voice soft but laced with concern.
Kate strolled in, her entrance as casual as ever, flipping an ornate brooch in her hand like it was a coin. "She?" she asked, her tone teasing. "Don't tell me this is about the big mystery you two have been brooding over for weeks."
"Kate, not now," Eleazar said with a quiet firmness, though his lips twitched in what might have been amusement. "This isn't a joke."
Kate arched a brow, her smirk unwavering. "It's not? A human avoids a coffee shop, and suddenly it's all hands on deck? Sounds like the slowest slow-burn drama in vampire history."
Irina entered more hesitantly, her gentle presence softening the tension in the room. "It's not just that, Kate," she said quietly, stepping inside. "We all felt it that night, didn't we? Something… shifted. And we can't ignore that."
Kate tossed the brooch onto the table and leaned against the chair's backrest, balancing the apple she'd swiped earlier on her fingertips. "Fine. I felt something. It was… a flicker. Like our coven bond, but different. I don't know. It was subtle. You're the ones making it sound like a Shakespearean prophecy."
Carmen's calm gaze met Kate's sharp one. "It wasn't subtle, Kate. You felt it because the coven bond shifted. That doesn't happen for no reason."
Irina's brows knitted together, her voice tentative. "But if we felt it, does that mean Tanya did too?"
"We don't know," Carmen admitted, her voice heavy. "And that's why we haven't told her. If we're wrong…"
Eleazar spoke up, his tone measured. "If we're wrong, it would hurt her. But if we're right, and this human really is fated for her, then this changes everything."
Irina's lips pressed into a worried line. "And now this human is avoiding the Haven?"
Carmen nodded. "She hasn't been back since that night. She's avoiding the place—and I think we're the reason why."
Kate let out a low whistle, leaning back in her chair with a lazy grin. "Wow. So, let me get this straight. You spooked some human girl so bad she decided to blacklist overpriced coffee, and now we're all having an existential crisis?"
"Kate," Eleazar snapped, his tone sharper now. "This isn't a joke. You felt what we did."
Kate shrugged, though her playful demeanour dimmed. "Fine. I felt it. Whatever it is. But you can't seriously think this means she's… her. I mean, what are the odds?"
"Odds don't matter," Carmen said quietly. "What matters is that this girl—this human—has stirred something in our bond, something we've never felt before."
Irina's voice was soft, hesitant. "What if she feels it too—whatever it is—but doesn't know what it means? What if she's not afraid of us, but of the emotions she doesn't understand?"
The room fell silent at her words, the weight of them settling over the group.
Kate broke the silence, as she always did, with a loud laugh. "So what do we do? Sit here and hope she magically wanders back?"
"No," Carmen said firmly. "We don't push her. But we watch. If she avoids the Haven, we'll find another way to observe. Carefully. Subtly."
Kate's grin returned, sharp and mischievous. "Spying on a human? Now this sounds fun."
Irina frowned, her worry unmasked. "And Tanya? What do we tell her?"
Carmen's gaze was steady, her tone resolute. "Nothing. Not yet. Not until we're sure."
Kate rolled her eyes but stood, stretching lazily. "Fine. But you'd better figure it out soon, because Tanya doesn't do well with secrets."
Mary
Two days before the quiz night, the Denali Gazette was as chaotic as ever: overfilled coffee mugs scattered across desks, printers groaning under the weight of endless deadlines, and Mary pacing Hank's office like a storm in a teacup.
"So let me get this straight," she began, waving a crumpled printout like a battle flag. "We're running two stories on the mayor this week? One about his snowblower and one about his hat? Hank, are we a newspaper or his personal hype squad?"
Hank, slouched in his chair, sighed deeply. "Mary, human-interest pieces sell. People like them."
Mary narrowed her eyes. "People also like those raccoon videos where they steal garbage. Should we print those too?"
From the doorway, Greg, the Gazette's self-proclaimed senior reporter, snorted. "What's the matter, Mary? The mayor's hat not scandalous enough for you?"
Mary shot him a glare so sharp it could've doubled as an editorial rejection. "Don't even start with me, Greg. This town is sitting on more real stories than I have hours in the day, and here we are, writing love letters to a man who thinks plaid is a personality."
Greg grinned. "Still sounds better than your mystery-buyer story."
Mary turned back to Hank, ignoring Greg. "Speaking of, we should be digging into that. Someone's buying up half the town in cash. That's not just news—that's suspicious."
Hank groaned, rubbing his temples. "Fine. But keep it low-key this time. I don't need you scaring the Chamber of Commerce again."
"Low-key, got it." Mary grinned, already scheming. "Maybe I'll start with Eterna Supply Co. They've been cosying up to every business in town. Bet they know something."
James
The Haven had its quirks, but James liked to think he'd mastered them all. He could pour a pint, swap life advice, and dodge a spilled drink—all without breaking stride. The bar was his stage, and he was the star of his own small-town drama.
But lately, the rhythm felt… off.
Bella's booth.
It had been empty for weeks now, and James couldn't lie to himself—it bothered him. The absence felt like a hole in the Haven's usual rhythm, and he hated it. The Haven wasn't the same without her. She was one of his anchors—her sardonic humor, her sharp wit, her excellent taste in coffee. And now, it was like she'd just vanished.
He sighed, leaning against the bar and wiping a perfectly clean glass just for something to do. "Guess she found a better gig than hanging out here," he muttered, mostly to himself.
"What's that?" Marty, a regular with too many opinions and not enough personal space, piped up from the other end of the bar.
"Nothing, Marty," James shot back, plastering on his bartender grin. "Just lamenting the state of the world. Or your tab. Take your pick."
The door chimed, and James's head snapped up, his reflexes finely tuned to greet new customers. Except this wasn't just anyone. It was them.
Carmen and Eleazar. The golden-eyed power couple who had been dropping by with deliveries for weeks now. Every time they walked in, James swore the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees—not from cold, but from sheer coolness. They were flawless in a way that made you want to hate them but mostly just made you feel underdressed.
"James," Carmen greeted, her voice like warm honey. She smiled—a smile so perfect it should've been illegal—and set down a pair of delivery boxes with a grace that made him feel like a caveman in comparison.
"Hey there, Carmen. Eleazar," James said, trying to sound casual but aware he probably looked like he'd forgotten how arms worked. "What brings you in tonight? More fancy olive oil?"
Eleazar chuckled, his tone rich and warm. "Not tonight. Just your standard coffee supplies and syrups. Though if you're looking for something exotic, we could always recommend a few things."
"Oh, sure," James said, leaning on the counter. "I'd love to know what pairs well with soul-crushing student debt and a bad karaoke night."
Carmen laughed—a soft, melodic sound that could've sold candles if someone bottled it. "A sense of humour. I like that."
James grinned despite himself, but the unease was still there, like a splinter under his skin. It wasn't just their charm, their impossible perfection. It was the look.
As they set down their boxes, their eyes flicked—just briefly—toward Bella's booth. It was subtle, the kind of thing you'd miss if you weren't paying attention. But James always paid attention. And this wasn't the first time.
The glance was quick, over in a second, but it was deliberate. Like they were checking for someone who wasn't there.
"So," James said, trying to sound casual as he stepped out from behind the bar, "what's the deal with you two? You're always so polished. Feels like I should be handing you a martini instead of an invoice."
Carmen tilted her head, amused. "We like to make an impression."
"Well, you're nailing it," James replied, pulling out the delivery sheet. "Seriously, though, what's your secret? Yoga? Cryotherapy? Selling your souls to a very stylish devil?"
Eleazar smiled, a little too knowingly for James's comfort. "Good genes. And a lot of coffee."
"Ah, coffee," James said, gesturing at the boxes. "The universal elixir of life."
"For some of us, at least," Carmen said smoothly, her eyes glinting with something James couldn't quite place.
The door to the kitchen swung open, and Sam stepped out, his timing impeccable. "Hey, you've got the goods?" he asked, wiping his hands on his apron.
"Right here," Eleazar replied, gesturing to the boxes with a polite nod.
James let Sam handle the details, retreating to the bar but keeping one eye on the golden duo. As they spoke with Sam, their words warm and effortless, James couldn't help but feel like they were actors playing a part. Everything about them was too polished, too perfect. And the way they kept glancing at Bella's empty booth? Yeah, that wasn't normal.
When they finally left, with smiles and a wave that could've charmed a roomful of sceptics, James leaned against the bar, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
Whatever their deal was, it was way above his pay grade. But one thing was clear: Bella's absence wasn't just bothering him. And the golden-eyed duo knew more than they were letting on.
Tanya
For weeks, Tanya had been watching her coven with growing suspicion.
It started small—Carmen and Eleazar whispering in corners, their conversations halting the moment Tanya entered the room. Kate, who usually couldn't resist teasing Tanya about anything and everything, had been unusually subdued—at least by Kate's standards. And Irina… Irina had been the strangest of all.
Her youngest sister had developed an inexplicable fascination with Denali's nightlife—or so she claimed. She was out more often than in, her vague excuses about "needing fresh air" or "exploring the town" doing little to mask the truth. But what gnawed at Tanya most was the scent she'd picked up on Irina after one of her "outings"—the faint but unmistakable trace of another vampire.
Tanya could press her for answers—being coven leader gave her that right—but trust was a fragile thing. In their family, respect was earned, and privacy was rarely breached unless absolutely necessary. If Irina wasn't ready to talk, pushing her might only make her retreat further.
So Tanya waited, biting her tongue and watching her coven closely. But Irina's silence, coupled with the strange behaviour of the others, set her teeth on edge. It felt as though something was brewing just beyond her reach, and she hated the helplessness of being kept in the dark.
The tipping point came one evening when Carmen sauntered into the living room, her expression far too composed to be natural. "We thought it'd be fun to go out tonight," she said, her tone light, almost too casual.
Tanya raised a sceptical brow. "We?"
"Pub quiz," Kate chimed in, strolling in behind Carmen with a grin that screamed trouble. "At The Haven. You'd like it. Good atmosphere, friendly people."
"You hate pub quizzes," Tanya said flatly.
Kate shrugged, her grin widening. "True. But watching humans flounder over obscure trivia? That's entertainment gold."
Tanya's gaze narrowed. "And Irina? Is she coming?"
There was a brief, almost imperceptible pause. Carmen's smile didn't falter, but Tanya caught the slight shift in her posture before she answered. "Irina has… plans tonight."
Kate snorted, clearly relishing the shift in attention. "More like someone she's planning to see. You know how our baby sister gets when she's curious."
Tanya's arms crossed, her golden eyes narrowing. "Who?"
Kate leaned against the arm of the couch, tossing her hair over her shoulder with deliberate nonchalance. "Some vampire passing through. Tall, dark, broody. Calls himself Laurent. Irina seems to think he's interesting."
Tanya's jaw tightened, her mind racing. "And you're all fine with this? Irina sneaking off to meet some stranger we know nothing about?"
"Laurent isn't a stranger to her," Carmen said gently, though there was a caution in her tone. "He's passing through. Irina says she feels safe with him."
"Safe?" Tanya repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. "Since when does feeling 'safe' with a stranger to us justify reckless behaviour?"
Kate rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Tanya. Irina's not a child. She's allowed to make her own choices. Besides, it's not like he's moving in or something. He's passing through, and she's curious. Let her have a little fun."
"Fun," Tanya said coldly. "Curious gets people killed."
Carmen stepped in before the conversation could escalate. "We can talk about Irina later. For now, why don't you come with us? A night out will do you good."
Tanya's sharp gaze swept over her coven. Carmen's smile was too practised, Eleazar's eyes avoided hers entirely, and Kate was smirking like she knew a secret she wasn't planning to share. Irina might not have been in the room, but she felt her presence in the tension that hung over them all.
"You're all terrible liars," Tanya said finally, her tone as cool as the snow falling outside.
Kate's grin widened, unbothered. "Come on, Tanya. It's just a quiz. What's the worst that could happen?"
The worst? Tanya didn't know. But as she reluctantly followed her coven out into the snowy night, she couldn't shake the feeling that Irina wasn't the only one keeping secrets. Whatever they were hiding, it wasn't just about Laurent—or Irina. And whatever it was, it was about to change everything.
Bella
The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, soft but unforgiving. Bella groaned, pulling her pillow over her face like it could shield her from the weight of existence.
She let out a muffled scream into the fabric. "This is stupid," she muttered, her voice muffled but firm. "So, so stupid."
She flipped onto her back, staring at the ceiling with all the intensity of someone trying to find life's answers in peeling paint. "Why, Bella? Why did you even talk to her? Why do you always get tangled up with vampires?"
Her mind, as traitorous as ever, conjured up Tanya's golden eyes and the way her name had sounded in that soft, accented voice. Bella groaned, smacking her forehead with her hand. "Nope. No. Not doing this."
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet hitting the cold floor like a reality check. "You're done with vampires, remember? Broken bones, scars, heartbreak—ring any bells?"
Still, the image of Tanya lingered, uninvited but persistent. Bella dragged herself to the kitchen, muttering under her breath. "This is fine. I'm fine. Totally fine."
The kettle clicked, steam rising, and she tried to focus on the mundane task of making tea. But her thoughts refused to cooperate. She couldn't deny the pull she'd felt, the warmth that had flooded her when their eyes met. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced—and that was the problem. It was dangerous. She couldn't go down this road again.
As she poured the hot water into her mug, she gave herself a stern mental shake. "Pull it together, Swan. You're smarter than this."
But as she sat down at her tiny kitchen table, sipping her tea and staring out at the snowy street, the warmth in her chest refused to fade. It was like a thread, thin but unyielding, pulling her toward something—or someone—she wasn't ready to face.