Chapter 1 The Dead Man at My Door

The blood on my apartment door was still wet when someone whispered my name from the other side.

I froze with my keys between my fingers, staring at the strange symbol painted across the wood. It looked like a circle split by three crooked lines, and the moment I recognized its shape, the air turned cold enough to make my breath visible.

I had seen that symbol once before, five years ago, on the basement wall of the house where Lucien Blackwood died.

My keys slipped from my hand and struck the floor.

"No," I whispered, taking a step backward. "That isn't possible."

The whisper came again, softer this time, almost affectionate.

"Adrian."

I knew that voice better than my own. I had heard it laughing across our childhood playground, calling me an idiot when I fell from a tree, and murmuring my name during the nights when neither of us could sleep.

I had also heard it scream beneath a burning roof.

For five years, I had visited Lucien's grave and told myself that the boy I loved was gone forever. I had built my life around that belief, buried my magic, and learned to live with the empty space he had left behind.

Now his voice was coming from the other side of my front door.

I reached for the small silver charm around my wrist and whispered a protective spell, feeling a faint sting travel up my arm as the magic awakened beneath my skin.

The hallway lights flickered.

Then the door handle turned by itself.

I should have run. Instead, I stepped forward and pulled the door open.

Lucien Blackwood stood in front of me.

He wore a black coat that glistened with rain, and his dark hair fell across his forehead exactly as it had when we were younger. His face was sharper now, his shoulders broader, and the careless smile I remembered had been replaced by something colder.

But it was his eyes that made my heart stop.

They were golden.

Not brown or hazel, but a deep, unnatural gold that seemed to glow beneath the hallway lights.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke. I could only stare at the man I had buried in my memories, trying to understand how a dead person could stand in front of me with rainwater dripping from his hair.

Lucien's gaze moved over my face before settling on the scar at my neck.

"You still have it," he murmured.

I stumbled backward, knocking my shoulder against the wall.

"You're dead."

His expression tightened, but the arrogant tilt of his mouth remained.

"That's an interesting way to greet your best friend."

I wanted to slap him. I wanted to grab him and make sure he was real, and I wanted to ask why he had left me alone with five years of grief.

Instead, I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my palms.

"I watched your house burn," I said, my voice shaking despite my efforts to control it. "I watched them lower your coffin into the ground."

"And yet, here I am."

"Who are you?"

For the first time, something like pain crossed his face.

"Lucien."

"Don't say your name as if that proves anything."

I raised my hand and traced a detection rune in the air, allowing my magic to reach toward him. The spell should have revealed the familiar warmth of a human soul, but the moment my power touched his body, a violent wave of cold rushed through my arm.

I gasped.

Something beneath Lucien's skin answered my magic.

It felt enormous, ancient, and hungry.

The hallway lights burst one after another, plunging us into darkness. From somewhere behind Lucien came the sound of claws scraping across the ceiling, although nothing stood above us except concrete and old pipes.

Lucien turned his head slightly.

"Close the door, Adrian."

I could barely breathe. "What is that?"

"Something that followed me."

"Then get away from my apartment."

His golden eyes returned to mine, and for a moment I saw the boy who had once promised to protect me from everything in the world.

"I didn't come here to hurt you."

"You have no idea what your return is doing to me."

"I know exactly what it's doing to you." He stepped closer, his voice lowering as the darkness gathered around his shoulders. "You still love me, and you're terrified that I'm going to make you admit it."

Anger rushed through me, hot enough to push back the fear.

"You don't get to come back from the dead and decide what I feel."

His gaze dropped to my mouth before returning to my eyes, and the silence between us became painfully familiar.

"No," he said. "But I can ask for another chance."

Before I could answer, a sharp cry rose from the apartment across the hall.

A woman's door flew open, then slammed shut with a force that shook the walls. Something heavy dragged itself across the floor beyond it, followed by a wet, choking sound.

Lucien moved in front of me so quickly that I barely saw him cross the space between us.

His fingers closed around my wrist, and the silver charm burned against my skin.

"Stay behind me."

I pulled free immediately. "Don't give me orders."

His expression darkened, but he stepped aside, allowing me to move toward the neighboring apartment.

That small gesture unsettled me more than his commanding voice because the Lucien I remembered would have argued until one of us gave in.

We entered the apartment together, and the smell of blood struck me before I could reach the light switch.

A woman lay motionless beside the kitchen table, her eyes wide open and her fingers curled around a broken piece of glass. Strange symbols covered the walls, each one drawn in dark red strokes.

I recognized the pattern.

It was the same symbol that had appeared on my door.

My stomach twisted as I crouched beside the body, searching for signs of life, but the skin beneath my fingers was already cold.

Then I noticed the message carved into the wooden floor.

THE WITCH MUST OPEN THE GATE.

My blood turned to ice.

Behind me, Lucien stopped breathing.

I turned slowly, and for the first time since he had returned, he looked genuinely afraid.

"Adrian," he whispered, staring at the message. "You need to listen to me very carefully."

A black vein spread beneath the skin of his neck, twisting toward his jaw as his golden eyes brightened.

"The thing inside me knows you're alive."

He seized my hand, and the moment our palms touched, a vision tore through my mind: flames swallowing the old Blackwood house, Lucien screaming my name, and my own hands covered in blood as I drove a blade into his chest.

Then the vision changed.

Lucien stood over my dead body, smiling with a mouth full of sharp, inhuman teeth.

I ripped my hand away, stumbling against the table.

"What did you do to me?"

Lucien stared at me, his face pale beneath the golden glow of his eyes.

"Nothing," he said, his voice breaking. "But five years ago, Adrian, you were the one who killed me.