VLAD

After hours of reading, pacing, pretending to sleep, and driving Latimer insane with the number of times he texted, “is it alright to wake her?” Vlad noticed Alice finally stirring. He clasped his hands behind his back, trying to give the appearance of patience. “So Salim attended a lover in the restroom of a nightclub while you were taking a pregnancy test?”

She rubbed her eyes and blinked. “Uh…good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“I don’t think Salim knew I was taking a pregnancy test,” she rubbed her eyes again, “Where’s Gwendolyn? She needs breakfast.”

“Downstairs with Latimer. She had breakfast; I made her a frittata.”

“You what?” Alice’s mouth fell open. “And she ate it?”

“Of course, she ate it; it had spinach and sun-dried tomatoes. Also, a little quinoa on the side. I don’t understand the problem.”

“Well, normally she eats like crackers, dry cereal, applesauce…”

Vlad frowned. “All of that sounds awful. Regardless, we should return to my earlier question.”

“I told you a ton of stuff about my life, but you’re only worried about Salim?”

Vlad wasn’t only worried about Salim. He’d been up all night searching his old books for references to death wands and ghosts. Most of it was incomprehensible, so now he was focused on the problem he could solve.

“When did you meet? Where does he live? Does he live there now? What are the access points of his building?”

“Vlad.”

“Nevermind. If you give me the address, I won’t have a problem getting in.”

“Are you losing your shit?” she asked.

He opened his mouth to deny it, but then Alice narrowed her eyes. “Radical honesty,” she emphasized. 

He shut it. 

“Vlad, I appreciate that you’re trying not to—”

“I’m not trying,” he corrected. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. Why would he try not to lose it on her sorry excuse for an ex? Not when Salim humiliated her, broke her heart, and ignored his daughter. Not when Vlad could flay open his chest, take each of his bones, and snap them, one by—

“Vlad!”

He looked up. Alice stood and covered her face, groaning.

“I’m sorry,” he replied automatically. 

“No, don’t be sorry. I’m annoyed at myself. Well, actually, I’m annoyed at Penny.”

“Who’s Penny?”

“My best friend and the originator of this stupid idea. I thought radical honesty would be like ripping the bandaid off, but it’s more like opening the floodgates. We both have a lot of baggage.”

His skin tingled. Vlad liked the “we” part. Previously, being “a lot” was a solo adventure.

“We need some ground rules,” she added.

Oh. 

“I don’t like rules,” Vlad told her.

Alice stared for a long time and then wrapped her arms around him. “Me either.”

Maybe she thought she was soothing him, rubbing small circles into the small of his back and murmuring, “it’s gonna be okay,” but Vlad was not soothed. In fact, he was alarmed. He could barely manage the rules Latimer set out for him, and now there would be more? What terror did she intend? What absolute horror?

“This is going to help us.” She hugged him tighter while Vlad let his arms hang limply on the side.

“Is this part of a plan to kill me?” he whispered.

Alice’s response was a laugh.

CALEB

“You’re joking, right?” Caleb growled. “Tell me you didn’t stroll into the middle of a spellcaster’s place of business and slaughter a patron!”

“I didn’t stroll through—“

“Mother!”

Anastasia rolled her shoulders and adjusted her hat. “Caleb, I don’t know why you’re bothering me with this. I’ve just woken up, and this argument is making my breakfast cold.”

She was insane. Caleb clenched his teeth. “You’re wearing a couture gown.”

“It’s a suit,” she slid her hand to her hip, “And it is not uncommon to dress for breakfast.”

He would not get caught up in her bullshit–HE WOULD NOT. He jerked a hand towards her, “Do they also dress to murder witnesses? I’ve got nine slaughtered werewolves, the remains of a ritual at a crime scene that no one can parse, an unknown vampire creeping around, two dead mortals, and apparently, a mother who cannot stop herself from ripping out someone’s heart!”

Anastasia was unfazed by his shouting. “Are you angry because I killed some wolf or angry because it complicated your case?”

If he were being honest, mostly the latter. Not that he could be honest. Someone in this family had to have a conscience. “The murder, mother, the murder is the thing I’m upset about.”

She fidgeted with her gloves. “Good, because if you were upset about the case, I’d tell you to stop being an idiot and focus on the fact that your real suspect is not very old, not working alone, and unfamiliar with the supernatural sideshow the Sages call the Magic Realm.”

Caleb ground his teeth. He would not, repeat, not ask her how she knew this.

“I know you won’t give me the satisfaction of asking how I know, so I’ll just tell you,” she continued. “Only someone young and unfamiliar with the Sages’ campaign promises in 1882 would be stupid enough to worry about killing mortals to cover their tracks. That means they are far too young to slaughter a pack of werewolves alone, so they’d need help. Probably from another werewolf. They do love to betray each other.”

“Mother, I—”

“I’m not finished. Only one of your crimes matters; the other two are incidental; stop giving them equal attention.”

Caleb laughed, pouring as much malice into it as possible. “And I suppose you know which crime scene to focus on based on your extensive experience.”

Anastasia cocked a brow, “Sloppiness, Caleb. If I’ve taught you anything, it’s to clean up after yourself when it matters. You seem convinced there’s a vampire at the center of this, so use your brain, my son. An older vampire, with more patience, wouldn’t dare leave so much evidence behind. My advice? Worry about the case you can’t solve.”

Caleb clenched his jaw so hard he feared it would break. Wasn’t she listening to him? He couldn’t solve any of these cases! “Oh, do you mean an older vampire like you, who left a witness behind to see her commit a crime in broad daylight while wearing a distinctive dress?”

“It was a suit. And do I look concerned about being caught?” She held out her hands in mock anticipation of being arrested. “Have you come to take me away?”

Caleb could only glare.

“I didn’t think so.” She turned and dropped gracefully onto her couch, shoving the food around on her plate. 

Caleb searched himself for patience. His mother could push his buttons like nobody else, but he did love her. He’d protected her, even when the the threat was gray-white with sharp teeth and wild temper. “Mother, are you going to tell me why you’re wearing couture at six in the morning?” 

She didn’t so much as glance in his direction. “No, Caleb, I’m not.”

---

Caleb dispelled his bat form, landing at the mortal bar in Brindleton Bay, where he agreed to meet Akira. 

“According to my mother, our culprit is a young supernatural outside of Glimmerbrook. Also, we’re wasting our time on two of these crime scenes because the only one that matters is the one we can’t solve. How? Fucked if I know how. But at least I can rest easy knowing that a baby vampire must’ve done it because an elder vampire would never leave such a mess.” He snatched a menu from off the table. “Why did you choose this place? I hate this town.”

“One, you made me miss the deli, so I never got my cheesesteak. Fried fish and grits is the least you can do, and Brindleton Bay is known for it. And two, you need to get laid because you are coming in extremely hot.”

“I did get laid,” Caleb grumbled.

Akira shook his head. “Not good enough.”

VLAD

It had been two weeks since Alice mentioned the rules, but she hadn’t made any, which did nothing to soothe Vlad’s anxiety. Not that he wanted rules—he categorically did not. But he also wanted absolute clarity on how she wanted him to behave so that he had some idea of how to “be” around her. 

Every time they asked each other questions, there was a new round of landmines to navigate—case in point, Friday when Alice and Gwendolyn came by for breakfast. 

“Latimer is not your dad!” she gasped, dropping her fork.

“No,” Vlad hesitated. “He is not. My actual parents are complete and utter psychopaths who I avoid with all the diligence of a medieval monk.”

“Oookay. But if Latimer isn’t your dad then he’s your…uh….your…” Her eyebrows squished together. 

“Platonic life partner.” 

“Platonic life what?” 

“It means we’ve built a life together. Latimer is my partner, but our love is not centered on sexual attraction. I haven’t slept with him—won’t sleep with him.”

Even if Alice wanted an open sexual relationship, Vlad didn’t feel that way for Latimer. Not that he and Alice had talked about their relationship. They were both too busy answering fucking questions. 

“You got that right,” Latimer tapped his fork on the table as if making an announcement, “I am irresistible but taken. And besides, we don’t share the same kinks, just bank accounts.” 

Alice took in that information, and to Vlad’s great relief, she didn’t appear to have a problem with it. “Well, it’s good you’re a package deal. Latimer is better at doing voices during story time and he’s willing to watch Average Sims Get a Chance To Be Musical Stars with me.”

Vlad rolled his eyes, but he was vibrating with what he’d consider to be warmth. He had no idea how he’d respond if Alice didn’t understand or worse, demanded that he and Latimer separate. “That TV show is complete nonsense. The only way average vocalists should be allowed to star in musicals is if we make them compulsory part of the military’s torture program.”

“You secretly like that we watch it,” she waggled her eyebrows, “You always flash a little half smile when you’re being fake grumpy.”

A laugh slipped out that he didn’t approve, but it was fine because Alice understood him and the feeling of being known by her was complete bliss. “Careful,” he warned, the urge to remove his stiff cotton shirt knocking at his ribcage, “You’ll reveal all my tells and then how will I keep you two from running roughshod over me?”

“You probably can’t,” she took a satisfied bite of french toast and winked at Latimer.

Vlad allowed another laugh, but the bliss he experienced was short-lived.

“Why do you hate your parents?” she asked, “Is it something they did or just like, their general disposition?”

BELLA

Earlier that morning, Mortimer had given Bella the greatest gift of their entire marriage: he was heading out of town. Usually, she made a bigger deal over how backward the whole “Brindleton Bay Men’s Club” thing was, but she didn’t interrupt once as he packed his bags for an emergency board session.

What could possibly warrant an emergency session was beyond Bella. As far as she knew, the Brindleton Bay Men’s Club of Knowing and Knowledge was a bunch of aging nerds who discussed dusty books and lamented society’s loss of “real men.” Since Mortimer was a stay-at-home parent, she was surprised they even let him in. But his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had all been members, and Mortimer felt the need to carry the torch. 

Whatever.

All that mattered was his departure and the deep well of energy Bella had to burn.

She’d been swamped all day, but now that it was evening and she’d confirmed her husband was tucked into their summer house, she could turn her attention to important matters.

“Cassie! I need you to watch Alexander tonight. I’ve got an important meeting.”

Her daughter whirled around, dropping the t-shirt she’d been folding. “What? Tonight is our Game Jam, and they need me!” 

“Cassandra Goth, not everything is about you. I need—”

“But I’ve been practicing for weeks!” her voice went reedy, “Don’t you remember that robot animation I showed you? That’s our finishing move, and everyone is counting on me. Call dad if you don’t believe me!” she grabbed her phone, “It’s on the calendar.”

Bella gulped. Shit. That damn calendar was going to be the death of her. “Don’t call your father. You’re right,” she added quickly, “I forgot. I’ll just call work and tell them I’m busy.” 

“Yes!” Cassandra pumped her fist, “Awesome!”

A car horn honked outside, and they both bounded down the stairs. 

“That’s Ash’s dad! I’m gonna go.” She hugged her mom and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Are you and Alex planning to come?”

A better parent would say yes, and Bella promised herself that next time, she would be. She just needed a chance to get this thing with Caleb out of her system. “You don’t want us there embarrassing you in front of your friends. We’ll stay in, and you can tell us all about your victory when you get home.”

“Yeah,” Cassandra’s shoulders slumped, “You’re probably right. I’ll be home by nine.”

“How about midnight?” Bella replied after doing some quick calculations. “It’s a Friday night. Here, take this,” she handed her daughter fifty simoleons, “Just in case you guys want to go out and celebrate after.”

Cassandra squealed and squeezed Bella tight. “Thanks, mom! I love you!”

After seeing Cassandra off,  Bella threw together a quick dinner and plied Alexander with television while watching the clock. She ushed her son to bed at eight o’clock on the dot and flew down the stairs, flinging open the door before Caleb could even knock.

He rubbed his hands together, one thick eyebrow arched, “That was fast. You’d almost think you were the vampire.”

Bella was suddenly very aware of her heartbeat. She laughed, pulling him through the door and into her living room. “Where do you want to go? Couch? There’s a chaise in the study, and…we…could…” she trailed off, watching as Caleb looked around, his gaze locked on the wall with her wedding portraits and family photos.

“We’re getting a divorce.” The lie tumbled out before she had a chance to stop it. 

He studied her, his lips pursed as if he were at war with his disapproval. “Are you sure? We don’t have to do this. We could just talk about the case.”

“I’m sure,” Bella stepped closer. “We can always talk about the case. Tonight I need something else.” Should she tell him her time was limited? He already looked seconds away from bailing. “If you’re not interested, you can just say so.” The words rushed out, the vulnerability she’d meant to keep hidden came spilling out. She looked down, voice raw as she tried to joke. “I’m sure the last thing a permanent twenty-something wants is to climb into bed with a woman in her 40s.”

Her laugh was bitter, but Caleb stopped it with a kiss. “Don’t think about that.” He pulled her flush against him. Bella shivered, almost light-headed, as she clutched his jacket, urging him on. 

“I’m older than you anyway,” he continued, sliding a hand under her t-shirt. He hitched up one of her legs, the hard length of him now notched between her thighs. “And I don’t think we need the couch.” 

ALICE

When your boyfriend was a vampire who had been kicking it since before the middle ages, it was hard to have any kind of chill. Alice tried, though. She focused on asking questions about his actual life, not his fangs, but Vlad seemed annoyed no matter what. A few weeks ago, during sex, she’d asked if he liked her on top and everything, including his erection, went south.

After that, she started turning their dates into outings with Gwendolyn. It was good for them to get to know each other, and the only time she saw Vlad completely relaxed was with the Tiny Terror. 

“She reminds me of Lilith,” he laughed when Alice laid down with him on the picnic blankets. 

They’d spent the morning splashing in the pond and trying to catch frogs. Gwendolyn had the exact dexterity one would expect from a toddler, but Vlad had infinite amounts of patience.

“Was Lilith terrible at catching frogs too?” Alice leaned back against his chest. She’d never noticed that he didn’t have a heartbeat but now found the lack of sound soothing. 

He chuckled and threaded his fingers through hers, his expression soft. “Lilith was born a spellcaster, which caused my ex-wife and me no small amount of challenges. She’d zoom from place to place and apparate into rooms at will. More than once, I had to pull on a linen shirt and breeches and track out to the woods in the middle of the night to let her run off the excess magic.”

“Yep, that sounds like Gwendolyn. Minus the magic part.” Alice sat up to face him, deciding to try her luck with another question. She loved talking about Gwendolyn; maybe he liked to talk about his kids too. “You said she’s some kind of genius professor?”

“The best Britechester has, not they know it. Or pay her enough.” He preened, launching into an explanation of her research which sounded borderline mystical to Alice but also very cool.

“And you had another kid?” she asked, “What was his name again?” 

Vlad’s expression shuttered. “Caleb.”

“What’s he—”

“We had a falling out over a century ago. He doesn’t talk to me.” He bit out every word like it was painful to say.

It was then that Alice realized how infinitely stupid she was. Yes, they both had baggage, but Vlad had over a thousand years of it. Her questions weren’t making him feel cared for; they gave him anxiety.

“Come here,” she tugged him down until his head was in her lap, running her fingers through his hair which had now grown into soft waves. He groaned, eyes fluttering shut as her nails scrapped across his scalp. 

“I think,” she began quietly, “Our first rule is a moratorium on our pasts. We don’t have to spend all our time interrogating each other. We’ll just tell each other stuff when it’s relevant.” 

He sat up, movements slow and languid, as he pulled her onto his lap with a smile. “Suprisingly, I like that rule.”

“Good. I’m sorry I overwhelmed you,” she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “You don’t have to tell me shit if you don’t want to.”

“I want to tell you things,” he assured her, “I could do with fewer questions, yes, but it’s answering that gives me anxiety. I don’t know how to be. I don’t know how you’ll react to me unfiltered.”

Alice didn’t know either, but that was her problem to deal with, not his. “I don’t want you to be anything other than yourself. I mean, I don’t know how to ‘be’ either. You’re my first vampire boyfriend and if you hadn’t noticed, I’m an ex-con bartender who does not like sims.”

He nipped playfully at her lip, “Your dislike of sims is one of your more attractive qualities. And I will try to be myself, hopefully it’s more suave than scary.”

She giggled, “Hey, I see ghosts. Maybe I’m the scary one.”

CALEB

Caleb was only at a mortal gym in the suburbs because he had a lot of energy to burn. It certainly had nothing to do with Bella, even if it was in her neighborhood…a short jog from her house. 

Shit. He really was a lovesick idiot. And a total creeper. 

Well, not a total creeper. They were dating and working out at her neighborhood gym, hoping to casually run into her was…

Pathetic.

Shit.

At least he understood why she was holding back. Divorces were draining—in the case of his parents, literally—and they weren’t the ideal time to be seen dating someone. 

Maybe he could figure out a way to take her out in the Magic Realm. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about running into someone she knew and, thus, giving her ex-husband ammunition. Bella made him sound vindictive, which tracked. He had vague memories of the Goths, and none of them were good. She probably didn’t want to lose her kids.

Kids? Fuck. Caleb hadn’t ever imagined himself as a parent.

But Bella hadn’t mentioned it, so maybe it wouldn’t be relevant? 

He hopped off the treadmill and pretended to be winded. He wasn’t just being a lovesick idiot; he was also trying to solve some problems with the case. If this mother was right, which annoyingly, she probably was, then he was even more stuck. Why the hell would a vampire have any need for someone like Eliza Pancakes? Johnny Zest at least had something supernatural going on—hell, if Caleb knew what, but Eliza? She was a mortal, and not even an exciting one at that. Her case wasn’t a mystery. Bella would probably be calling any minute to tell him it was Salim and his shady bubble-blower deals that killed her.

Frustrated, he left the gym and jogged toward Bella’s house. As his feet hit the pavement, occult energy swelling instead of his lungs, Caleb tried to tell himself that he just had some questions about the case. But he knew the truth: he was 100% absolutely full of shit.

VLAD

They made date plans without Gwendolyn for the first time in weeks. It was a perfect night—dinner and then the library. Alice let him ramble on for far too long about the building’s history and then they argued about books.

“You do not call him Daddy Don!” Alice’s eyes sparkled as they wound around another table.

“The Duchelli Legacy calls him Daddy Don,” Vlad replied as his fingers grazed her hip. He was worried that his question-driven anxiety had ruined sex forever, but after their first rule, his desire returned with a vengeance. He pointed at the circulation desk where a librarian was currently scanning the book for him to check out. “Are you telling me he’s not daddy?”

“No,” she bit her lip and gently hip-checked him, “Uther in Tales of Camelot is daddy. King Daddy, actually.”

Vlad made a face, “I’m not rooting for Uther. Morgana and Lancelot are my ship.”

“Lance-hot,” Alice added, her laugh turning into a snort. “Now Almost Eternal—“

“That’s easy, Faith and Seth.”

She frowned, “I mean, I get it, he’s a raging lunatic with no scruples, but—“

“Ah, ah, I have not finished,” he placed a hand on the small of her back, guiding her around a book cart, “No spoilers.” 

Their easy banter continued as they walked, earning them a few dirty looks from patrons. The way she offered them all non-apology apologies made Vlad want to take her behind the stacks, lift her dress, and put his mouth on her until she was boneless with satisfaction.

“Oh!” she squealed, “In DJ’s World: Bachelorette Party, there’s a character that looks like you, and he has a…” she paused and looked around the library warily before whispering the rest of the statement in his ear. 

Vlad suppressed a groan and leaned over, his voice low. “I don’t know why you’re telling me this. You know how I feel about knives.”

That time, her laughter earned them a reprimand from the librarian, so they found an abandoned section and made themselves comfortable on the windowsill. 

“I can’t help that you have a specific taste,” her legs swung rhythmically against the baseboard. She brushed her fingers over his erection; this time, he did not stifle his groan. “You’re like Yuan from Haunted. Actually, you are one hundred percent the Yuan in this relationship. And I’m the Bernard.” 

He leaned in to kiss her. “Would I wear a gown with flawlessly cut water sleeves? Yes. Would I fuck you if you were a ghost? Also, yes.”

She pinched him playfully, which did nothing to dampen his arousal. “This is fun. I love date night. You give me too much nectar, I eat until I burst, we joke about books and patriarchy and podcasts—” she narrowed her eyes, “Wait, do you listen to podcasts?” 

“By men? No,” Vlad shivered, “I have a hard enough time not slaughtering the masses as it is.” He froze, realizing how carelessly he’d thrown out that comment. How would she react? All of his exes had been different. Ana understood, Faba encouraged him, and Ethren…well…Ethren was always disappointed. Vladislaus was either too violent…

—Or not violent enough.

She lifted a hand and stroked his cheek. “Are you a danger to me and Gwendolyn?”

“No. Never.” He gently gripped her wrist, running his thumb over her pulse, “You are both precious to me.”

He didn’t know he was waiting for her acceptance, but he felt the tension leave his body when the conversation started again. 

“I like Kat in Divided. Lots of bad stuff for witches, which is sort of depressing. But I’m looking forward to when things get better, and they kick ass. It’s bullshit that everyone acts like spellcasters are the problem.”

“Ha!” Vlad snorted, “Witches would love your interpretation.”

She scowled. “I mean, I like my interpretation.”

It was at that moment that Vlad realized he was infinitely stupid. “You think you’re a witch.”

“Well yeah, I see ghosts. And that wand was whispering to me before I touched it. Eliza thought it meant something.” She looked down, fiddling with her dress, “I know it’s crazy that I bonded with the woman who was screwing my boyfriend, because literally, fuck them both. They deserve each other. But Salim was being a real asshole, and Johnny gave me the creeps, and I just…I don’t know. It’s been in my head ever since.”

Vlad wasn’t a fan of some third-rate homewrecker encouraging Alice to touch a bespelled item that could have killed her. His fury might’ve shown on his face because she pulled him down until he was lying with his head in her lap. Whatever agitation he felt about Eliza Pancakes faded. “You don’t smell like a witch,” he murmured. “Witches and their magic have a particular scent, and you just smell like you.”

“Is that why you keep my ghosts away? I smell nice?”

He chuckled. Vlad had no idea why ghosts never bothered her when he was around. Vampires must not be prone to haunting. “We will figure it out,” he promised.

“I know,” she drummed her fingers on his sternum, the vibration of it so soothing he closed his eyes. Fuck. He might actually fall asleep like this.

“Can I ask one question?”

“I am so relaxed right now, I’d answer a barrage of queries.”

“Do you ever worry about consequences? With all your murder stuff?”

Vlad huffed a laugh and grabbed her hand, gently kissing her fingertips. “I am mostly retired, just the occasional ‘murder stuff.’ Honestly, if there are consequences, I tend to just outlive them.”

BIFFINGTON BOBRIDGE

The first thing Biffington Bobridge did was post a letter.

Actually, the first thing Biffington Bobridge did was crawl to the bathroom to check his injuries. He tried not to cry because crying was not manly, but it was hard. 

Everything the vampire did hurt.

And the more it hurt, the more gleeful he got. 

Later, Biffington examined the puncture marks along his neck, the way they tracked around, ending in a torn strip of flesh above his heart. There was bruising and scabbing. Some he remembered. 

Some he did not.

The vampire promised not to turn him. Sneered it while he forced Biffington to draft a letter of apology to the presenter. It was too bad. The last of the Bobridges wished he was a vampire—a powerful sort of man who could rightfully assert his dominance and make the world over correctly. 

The Brindleton Bay Men’s Club of Knowing and Knowledge had hunted the supernatural for years. It was their calling, though they had so far failed to produce anything resembling real evidence. 

There were manuscripts, artifacts, and the original copy of the Ultimate Vampire Tome, but what Biffington offered the club was proof. His letter said as much: 

Dear Esteemed Board Member,

Not since receiving the Ultimate Vampire Tome in 1882 has this club gotten such a significant lead. Vampires exist. I was accosted by one who goes by the name—perhaps alias—Vladislaus Straud. I will not elaborate on the details of this altercation except to assure you that I conducted myself with the utmost decorum and strength of character. I would like to propose an emergency meeting to discuss these matters further.

Yours,

Biffington Bobridge  

He didn’t send it to all of the board members, of course, just the most (in his opinion) worthy.

One for Bjorn Bjersen.

One for Jacques Villareal.

One for Mortimer Goth.

He poured the drinks, set out the snacks, and rechecked his notes. The members would be arriving shortly, and he wanted everything to be perfect for his presentation.  

NEXT TIME, ON THE STRAUDS:

Trailer Song: “Play with Fire” by Sam Tinnesz

---

CREDITS

In addition to the  CC I regularly use in the game and buildings from the Fleuralia Save File, I also used the following builds and custom content: