Hello, Lovely Readers,

Welcome to Ashford, where vampires and Lycans live under an uneasy peace, witches remain hidden, and some secrets are better left buried.

In this story, you may encounter a few supernatural terms unique to the world of Spellbound.

I hope you enjoy the journey.

XOXO,Queenie

Chapter 1 — The Crescent

The body was still warm when I arrived.

I stopped outside the alley, staring at the crowd gathered behind the police barricade. Ashford was usually quiet at this hour. Not tonight. The narrow street was packed with people in dark coats, curious civilians standing behind the barriers while several armed vampires guarded the scene.

I tightened my grip around the medical bag hanging from my shoulder.

I shouldn’t be here.

That was my first thought.

My second was worse.

I knew that symbol.

A silver crescent had been carved into the victim’s chest. I had seen it before. Not on a corpse. The symbol resembled the one on the pendant I wore beneath my clothes.

“Miss Fallon.”

I turned. A tall vampire officer approached me, his expression grim.

“You were called because you’re the clinic’s night physician.”

“That’s what I was told.”

He stepped aside. “Then tell us what killed him.”

I looked toward the body. The victim was a middle-aged vampire nobleman. His throat had been torn open, but there was almost no blood around him. That was wrong. Very wrong. Vampires didn’t bleed like humans. Even when wounded, their blood usually flowed slowly before their bodies began healing. But this man was dead. Completely dead. As if a stake had been driven through him until his heart was removed.

I crouched beside him. “How long has he been here?”

“Approximately twenty minutes.”

“Who found him?”

“A patrol.”

I reached toward the wound.

“Don’t.”

The command came sharply from behind me. I looked up. A second vampire stood several feet away. He was older, dressed in an expensive black coat, with the insignia of the royal court pinned to his chest.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because this isn’t a medical investigation anymore.” His gaze dropped to the silver crescent. “It’s a royal matter.”

My stomach tightened. I already knew that. Everyone in Ashford knew. Three vampire nobles had been murdered in less than two weeks. And all three had carried the same mark. The silver crescent.

“Do you know what it means?” I asked carefully.

The older vampire’s eyes narrowed. “You seem unusually interested.”

“I work in a clinic. I’m interested in anything that might have caused someone’s death.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

My fingers curled around the strap of my medical bag. “I’m not.”

He stepped closer. “That symbol belonged to a bloodline that was supposedly destroyed decades ago.”

My heartbeat stumbled. I lowered my eyes. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Everyone in Ashford knows something about it.”

“Then perhaps you should ask everyone.”

The vampire stared at me for a long moment before turning away. “Take the body to the royal physicians.”

The younger officer nodded. As they carried the corpse away, I remained frozen. My hand slipped beneath my shirt. My fingers found the silver pendant hanging against my skin. The crescent. The exact same crescent.

I had spent years telling myself it meant nothing. Now someone was carving it into dead vampires. That could not be a coincidence.

“Miss Fallon?”

I looked up. The officer was watching me again. “Are you coming?”

“Yes.” I grabbed my bag and walked away without looking back.

I didn’t breathe properly until I reached the clinic. The moment the door closed behind me, I locked it. Then I checked the windows. Twice. Only after I was certain no one had followed me did I pull the pendant from beneath my shirt. The silver crescent rested in my palm.

My father’s voice suddenly returned to me. Not his entire voice. Just a fragment. Never let them see it.

I had been six when he said it. Maybe seven. I couldn’t vividly remember. My childhood existed in pieces. My mother’s face. My father’s hands. A burning house. Someone screaming. Then nothing. My mother disappeared shortly afterward. My father died years later. And I learned very young that asking questions could get people killed. So I stopped asking. I put the pendant away.

Then the clinic door rattled. I froze. Someone knocked. Three times.

“Miss Fallon?”

I recognized the voice. “Open the door.”

I exhaled. It was Mrs. Bell, one of the clinic’s regular patients. I unlocked the door. The elderly werewolf stumbled inside.

“What happened?”

“Nothing serious.”

“You’re bleeding.”

She glanced down at the cut across her arm. “That?”

“Yes, that.”

She shrugged. “I got into a disagreement.”

“With whom?”

“A vampire.”

I stared at her. “Of course you did.”

She smiled. “You shouldn’t judge.”

“I’m a doctor. I’m allowed to judge when my patients are idiots.”

She laughed. I cleaned the wound while she talked about everything except the reason she had actually come. Then she suddenly became quiet.

“You heard about the killings?”

My hands stopped. “Everyone has.”

“People are saying the old bloodline has returned.”

I looked at her through the mirror. “What old bloodline?”

She lowered her voice. “The crescent bloodline.”

I continued cleaning her wound. “I thought they were extinct.”

“So did everyone else.”

“What makes people think they’re back?”

“The mark.”

My stomach tightened. Mrs. Bell watched me carefully. “They say whoever carries that blood is dangerous.”

“People call anything dangerous when they don’t understand it.”

She laughed softly. “You sound like you know something.”

I met her eyes. “I know better than to believe rumors.”

She studied me for another second. Then she smiled. “Good answer.”

When she left, I locked the door again. The clinic suddenly felt too small. I couldn’t stay. Not tonight. I grabbed my coat and stepped outside.

Ashford looked beautiful after midnight. That was the problem. The city hid its darkness well. Streetlamps illuminated rows of old buildings with elegant balconies and tall windows. Cars rolled quietly along the wet streets. Music drifted from restaurants and private clubs. But beneath the polished surface lived three supernatural races that trusted each other about as much as wolves trusted hunters.

Vampires controlled most of the city’s wealth. Lycans controlled the military. And witches? Nobody knew where they were. They were supposed to live among humans, hiding their magic. At least, that was what everyone believed.

I pulled my coat tighter. I knew better. I knew because I was one of them. Not only a witch. Not only a vampire. Not only a wolf. All three. A tribrid. The word alone was enough to get me killed. I had spent years making sure nobody discovered the truth.

But tonight, something felt different. Someone was searching for my bloodline. And if they were using the silver crescent, they might already be close.

I hurried toward my apartment. Halfway there, I heard footsteps. I stopped. Nothing. I continued walking. The footsteps returned. Faster. I glanced over my shoulder. A man stood beneath a streetlamp. He was staring directly at me.

I walked faster. So did he. My wolf stirred beneath my skin. Run. I hated when she did that. She was usually quiet. Tonight, she was terrified.

I turned into a side street. The footsteps followed. I reached the corner and suddenly smelled blood. Not human. Vampire. My instincts screamed. I ran. Behind me, someone shouted. “There!”

I didn’t wait to see who it was. I sprinted through the alleyways, my heart hammering. I knew these streets. But whoever was chasing me knew them too. I turned left. Then right. Then through a narrow passage I had never used before. I emerged into an unfamiliar district.

Everything changed. The streetlights disappeared. The buildings became older. The air felt colder. Even the sounds of the city seemed distant. I looked behind me. No one. I let out a shaky breath.

Then I heard music. A low melody drifting from somewhere ahead. I followed it. Not because it was safe. Because going back wasn’t. The street opened into a small square filled with old buildings and dimly lit windows. At the end stood a bar. A sign hung above the entrance. THE BLACK MOON.

I stared at it. I’d heard stories about this place. Everyone in Ashford had. The Black Moon sat inside a forbidden district where vampires and Lycans were forbidden from carrying weapons, settling disputes, or starting fights. It was neutral ground. Which meant it was probably the safest place I could find.

I pushed open the door. The noise inside immediately swallowed me. Music. Laughter. Glasses clinking. Supernatural creatures of every kind filled the room. I kept my head down. I needed a drink. Something strong enough to quiet my wolf. I reached the bar.

“Whiskey.”

The bartender looked at me. “Bad night?”

“You have no idea.”

He poured the drink. I took one sip. My wolf stirred again. Not fear this time. Something else. Something unfamiliar. I turned toward the entrance. And froze.

A man had just walked inside. Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair. There was something about him that made every instinct inside me go completely still. My wolf whispered one word. Mate.

I couldn’t breathe. The stranger’s eyes found mine. And for the first time in years, I forgot to hide.

Hello, Lovely Readers,

Welcome to Ashford, where vampires and Lycans live under an uneasy peace, witches remain hidden, and some secrets are better left buried.

In this story, you may encounter a few supernatural terms unique to the world of Spellbound.

I hope you enjoy the journey.

XOXO,Queenie

Chapter 1 — The Crescent

The body was still warm when I arrived.

I stopped outside the alley, staring at the crowd gathered behind the police barricade. Ashford was usually quiet at this hour. Not tonight. The narrow street was packed with people in dark coats, curious civilians standing behind the barriers while several armed vampires guarded the scene.

I tightened my grip around the medical bag hanging from my shoulder.

I shouldn’t be here.

That was my first thought.

My second was worse.

I knew that symbol.

A silver crescent had been carved into the victim’s chest. I had seen it before. Not on a corpse. The symbol resembled the one on the pendant I wore beneath my clothes.

“Miss Fallon.”

I turned. A tall vampire officer approached me, his expression grim.

“You were called because you’re the clinic’s night physician.”

“That’s what I was told.”

He stepped aside. “Then tell us what killed him.”

I looked toward the body. The victim was a middle-aged vampire nobleman. His throat had been torn open, but there was almost no blood around him. That was wrong. Very wrong. Vampires didn’t bleed like humans. Even when wounded, their blood usually flowed slowly before their bodies began healing. But this man was dead. Completely dead. As if a stake had been driven through him until his heart was removed.

I crouched beside him. “How long has he been here?”

“Approximately twenty minutes.”

“Who found him?”

“A patrol.”

I reached toward the wound.

“Don’t.”

The command came sharply from behind me. I looked up. A second vampire stood several feet away. He was older, dressed in an expensive black coat, with the insignia of the royal court pinned to his chest.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because this isn’t a medical investigation anymore.” His gaze dropped to the silver crescent. “It’s a royal matter.”

My stomach tightened. I already knew that. Everyone in Ashford knew. Three vampire nobles had been murdered in less than two weeks. And all three had carried the same mark. The silver crescent.

“Do you know what it means?” I asked carefully.

The older vampire’s eyes narrowed. “You seem unusually interested.”

“I work in a clinic. I’m interested in anything that might have caused someone’s death.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

My fingers curled around the strap of my medical bag. “I’m not.”

He stepped closer. “That symbol belonged to a bloodline that was supposedly destroyed decades ago.”

My heartbeat stumbled. I lowered my eyes. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Everyone in Ashford knows something about it.”

“Then perhaps you should ask everyone.”

The vampire stared at me for a long moment before turning away. “Take the body to the royal physicians.”

The younger officer nodded. As they carried the corpse away, I remained frozen. My hand slipped beneath my shirt. My fingers found the silver pendant hanging against my skin. The crescent. The exact same crescent.

I had spent years telling myself it meant nothing. Now someone was carving it into dead vampires. That could not be a coincidence.

“Miss Fallon?”

I looked up. The officer was watching me again. “Are you coming?”

“Yes.” I grabbed my bag and walked away without looking back.

I didn’t breathe properly until I reached the clinic. The moment the door closed behind me, I locked it. Then I checked the windows. Twice. Only after I was certain no one had followed me did I pull the pendant from beneath my shirt. The silver crescent rested in my palm.

My father’s voice suddenly returned to me. Not his entire voice. Just a fragment. Never let them see it.

I had been six when he said it. Maybe seven. I couldn’t vividly remember. My childhood existed in pieces. My mother’s face. My father’s hands. A burning house. Someone screaming. Then nothing. My mother disappeared shortly afterward. My father died years later. And I learned very young that asking questions could get people killed. So I stopped asking. I put the pendant away.

Then the clinic door rattled. I froze. Someone knocked. Three times.

“Miss Fallon?”

I recognized the voice. “Open the door.”

I exhaled. It was Mrs. Bell, one of the clinic’s regular patients. I unlocked the door. The elderly werewolf stumbled inside.

“What happened?”

“Nothing serious.”

“You’re bleeding.”

She glanced down at the cut across her arm. “That?”

“Yes, that.”

She shrugged. “I got into a disagreement.”

“With whom?”

“A vampire.”

I stared at her. “Of course you did.”

She smiled. “You shouldn’t judge.”

“I’m a doctor. I’m allowed to judge when my patients are idiots.”

She laughed. I cleaned the wound while she talked about everything except the reason she had actually come. Then she suddenly became quiet.

“You heard about the killings?”

My hands stopped. “Everyone has.”

“People are saying the old bloodline has returned.”

I looked at her through the mirror. “What old bloodline?”

She lowered her voice. “The crescent bloodline.”

I continued cleaning her wound. “I thought they were extinct.”

“So did everyone else.”

“What makes people think they’re back?”

“The mark.”

My stomach tightened. Mrs. Bell watched me carefully. “They say whoever carries that blood is dangerous.”

“People call anything dangerous when they don’t understand it.”

She laughed softly. “You sound like you know something.”

I met her eyes. “I know better than to believe rumors.”

She studied me for another second. Then she smiled. “Good answer.”

When she left, I locked the door again. The clinic suddenly felt too small. I couldn’t stay. Not tonight. I grabbed my coat and stepped outside.

Ashford looked beautiful after midnight. That was the problem. The city hid its darkness well. Streetlamps illuminated rows of old buildings with elegant balconies and tall windows. Cars rolled quietly along the wet streets. Music drifted from restaurants and private clubs. But beneath the polished surface lived three supernatural races that trusted each other about as much as wolves trusted hunters.

Vampires controlled most of the city’s wealth. Lycans controlled the military. And witches? Nobody knew where they were. They were supposed to live among humans, hiding their magic. At least, that was what everyone believed.

I pulled my coat tighter. I knew better. I knew because I was one of them. Not only a witch. Not only a vampire. Not only a wolf. All three. A tribrid. The word alone was enough to get me killed. I had spent years making sure nobody discovered the truth.

But tonight, something felt different. Someone was searching for my bloodline. And if they were using the silver crescent, they might already be close.

I hurried toward my apartment. Halfway there, I heard footsteps. I stopped. Nothing. I continued walking. The footsteps returned. Faster. I glanced over my shoulder. A man stood beneath a streetlamp. He was staring directly at me.

I walked faster. So did he. My wolf stirred beneath my skin. Run. I hated when she did that. She was usually quiet. Tonight, she was terrified.

I turned into a side street. The footsteps followed. I reached the corner and suddenly smelled blood. Not human. Vampire. My instincts screamed. I ran. Behind me, someone shouted. “There!”

I didn’t wait to see who it was. I sprinted through the alleyways, my heart hammering. I knew these streets. But whoever was chasing me knew them too. I turned left. Then right. Then through a narrow passage I had never used before. I emerged into an unfamiliar district.

Everything changed. The streetlights disappeared. The buildings became older. The air felt colder. Even the sounds of the city seemed distant. I looked behind me. No one. I let out a shaky breath.

Then I heard music. A low melody drifting from somewhere ahead. I followed it. Not because it was safe. Because going back wasn’t. The street opened into a small square filled with old buildings and dimly lit windows. At the end stood a bar. A sign hung above the entrance. THE BLACK MOON.

I stared at it. I’d heard stories about this place. Everyone in Ashford had. The Black Moon sat inside a forbidden district where vampires and Lycans were forbidden from carrying weapons, settling disputes, or starting fights. It was neutral ground. Which meant it was probably the safest place I could find.

I pushed open the door. The noise inside immediately swallowed me. Music. Laughter. Glasses clinking. Supernatural creatures of every kind filled the room. I kept my head down. I needed a drink. Something strong enough to quiet my wolf. I reached the bar.

“Whiskey.”

The bartender looked at me. “Bad night?”

“You have no idea.”

He poured the drink. I took one sip. My wolf stirred again. Not fear this time. Something else. Something unfamiliar. I turned toward the entrance. And froze.

A man had just walked inside. Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair. There was something about him that made every instinct inside me go completely still. My wolf whispered one word. Mate.

I couldn’t breathe. The stranger’s eyes found mine. And for the first time in years, I forgot to hide.

I woke to the gray light of early morning and the solid weight of an arm across my waist. For a moment I did not remember where I was.

Then the previous night returned in pieces—the bar, the car, the bed, the way his eyes had changed when he looked at me as if he had recognized something he had not expected to find.

I turned carefully. He was already awake, watching me with an expression I could not quite read. In the soft light the gold in his irises was more pronounced.

My wolf stirred again, quieter now but still insistent. Mate. The word sat heavy and strange in the back of my mind. I had never believed in the stories the way purebloods did. I had never expected the recognition to feel like this—like a door opening in a house I had kept locked for years.

He brushed a strand of hair from my face. Neither of us spoke for a long time. The silence was not awkward. It simply was.

“You’re quieter in the morning,” he said at last, voice still rough with sleep. “Last night you weren’t shy about asking for what you wanted.”

A faint heat touched my cheeks. “Last night was different.”

“Different how?”

I hesitated. “I wasn’t thinking about consequences.”

His mouth curved, not quite a smile. “And now you are.”

“Yes.”

He studied me for another moment, then shifted so he was propped on one elbow. “I keep expecting you to bolt. Or to ask who I am.”

“Would you tell me if I did?”

“Probably not.” He paused. “Would you tell me your name if I asked?”

“No.”

He gave a short huff of amusement. “Then we’re even.”

I pulled the sheet a little higher. “You don’t seem bothered by that.”

“I’ve lived long enough to know that names are the least important part of a person.” His gaze drifted over my face. “What you are… that’s harder to hide.”

My pulse jumped. “And what do you think I am?”

“Someone who’s running.” He said it simply, without accusation. “Someone who looked over her shoulder more times in one night than most people do in a year. Someone whose wolf is awake and restless even when she tries to keep it quiet.”

I went still. “You noticed.”

“I notice a lot of things.” His voice softened. “Especially when they involve you.”

Before I could answer, he rose and moved to the low table near the window where a phone lay face down. The moment he looked at the screen his entire posture changed. Whatever message waited for him was not good news. I sat up, pulling the sheet around myself, and watched the shift from the man who had been careful with me to something colder and more focused.

“What is it?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t look up right away. When he did, his expression was carefully neutral. “An urgent matter. One I can’t ignore.”

“How urgent?”

“Someone tried to kill me last night. While I was… otherwise occupied.” A humorless edge entered his voice. “They failed. But the attempt itself is a problem I have to address immediately.”

I swallowed. “You’re leaving.”

“I have to.” He crossed back to the bed and stood looking down at me. “Come with me.”

The words landed harder than I expected. For a single reckless second I almost said yes. Then reality returned.

“I can’t,” I said quietly.

His jaw tightened. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t know who you are. And you don’t know who I am.” I met his eyes. “That’s not a foundation for anything except trouble.”

“I know enough.” His voice was low, intense. “I know my wolf recognized yours the moment I walked into that bar. I know you felt it too. Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

“I felt something,” I admitted. “That doesn’t mean I can walk away from my life and follow a stranger into whatever danger is waiting for him.”

“It wouldn’t be as a stranger.” He sat on the edge of the bed, close enough that I could feel the heat of him. “I would protect you. Whatever you’re running from—”

“You can’t protect me from this.” The words came out sharper than I intended. I forced my voice lower. “You don’t understand what you’re offering. Or what it would cost.”

He searched my face. “Then explain it to me.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t, or won’t?”

“Both.” I looked away. “If the people hunting the crescent bloodline are already this close, dragging anyone else into my orbit would only put them in danger. And put me at greater risk of discovery.”

Silence stretched between us. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “You’re part of that bloodline.”

It wasn’t a question. I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

He let out a slow breath. “I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s better that way.”

“Is it?” He leaned in slightly. “Because it doesn’t feel better. It feels like I’m leaving something unfinished. Something important.”

I forced a small, tired smile. “Nights like this don’t last past sunrise. Not for people like me.”

He gave a short, humorless sound that might have been a laugh. “Probably.” He leaned down and pressed a brief kiss to my forehead, then to the corner of my mouth. “If you ever change your mind… the Black Moon will know how to find me.”

“And if I never do?”

His eyes held mine. “Then I’ll still remember the way you looked at me when you stopped hiding. Even if it was only for one night.”

I did not ask how the bar would know how to reach him. I did not ask who he really was, though the way he carried himself and the urgency of the message suggested he was no ordinary Lycan. I simply watched him gather his clothes and dress with efficient movements. When he was ready he paused at the door.

“Stay as long as you need,” he said. “No one will bother you here. Food’s in the kitchen if you want it. And…” He hesitated. “Be careful, princess. Whatever you’re running from—don’t let it catch you.”

“I’ll try.”

He nodded once, as if committing the sight of me to memory, and then he was gone.

I sat on the edge of the bed for a long time after the door closed, the silver pendant cool against my skin. Outside, Ashford was waking. Somewhere in the city hunters were still searching. Somewhere the people who had carved the crescent into vampire nobles were planning their next move. And somewhere a Lycan who had looked at me like he had found something he thought lost was returning to a palace and an attempted assassination.

I rose, found my dress, and put myself back together piece by piece. Masked scent. Careful steps. The same rules that had kept me alive this long. When I left the penthouse I did not look back. I told myself I would never see him again. It was safer that way. It was the only way.

But my wolf did not believe me. And for the first time in years, neither did I.