Marcus stepped out of the car, coat flaring slightly as the cold rain slapped down in sharp sheets, soaking his shoulders within seconds. He didn't bother pulling up the collar. The wet didn't bother him—what did was the quiet little house in front of him.
It was tucked between two others just like it, nestled into a sleepy cul-de-sac like a secret trying too hard to look normal. One story, low-sloped roof, pale green siding with white trim, and a porch light that flickered like it hadn't had a proper enchantment check in years. The yard was neat—too neat. Not a single weed in sight, hedges trimmed to suspicious symmetry, and the grass looked like it had been measured with a ruler. A white stone path curved toward the porch, flanked by mismatched lawn décor—gnomes, frogs, little mushroom statues.
Marcus's gaze locked on one of the gnomes by the walkway. It wore a twisted grin and held a shovel over one shoulder like it meant something.
"Creepy gnome," he muttered, squinting at it. The eyes looked... narrower than before.
He took a slow drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke in its direction. "Magic, are you?" He tapped ash on the gravel. "Makes sense. Probably got the whole yard warded."
Then he stepped up to the porch and pressed the doorbell.
Big mistake.
"Ugh—fuck," he hissed, staggering back half a step as he clutched his head. It felt like an invisible fist had slammed through his skull and was hammering the inside of his brain with the rhythm of a war drum. "Last time I knock, it felt like my knuckles had splinters inside them," he grumbled. "Now this? Doorbell's got a damn migraine spell wired into it. What's next, a nosebleed if I call her?"
A chime rang from inside the house. Light footsteps followed. Then, a familiar voice, floating out with way too much amusement: "Coming~!"
The door opened, and Alexa leaned casually in the frame.
Marcus exhaled through his nose, already regretting everything.
She was wearing something that barely qualified as clothing. Her robe—if you could even call it that—was sheer, dark, and clung to her like humidity on bare skin. It hung loose off one shoulder, revealing the strap of something lacy beneath, and only barely reached past her upper thighs, parting just enough at the front to leave little to the imagination. Her legs were bare, one foot toeing the frame like she hadn't noticed—or cared—that it was raining just a step away.
Her hair was damp at the ends, as if she'd just stepped out of a shower, and a faint trace of vanilla and some unplaceable spice drifted into the air between them.
"Ah, Marcus," she purred, a slow smirk curling her lips as she crossed her arms beneath her chest. Her eyes glittered with mischief, silently asking business or pleasure?
Marcus sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Do you have no sense of shame?"
Then, after a beat, added, "Also, business. Always business."
"Well then, come inside, Mister Business," Alexa said with a theatrical flourish, stepping aside and gesturing him in like she was welcoming royalty to a den of sin.
Marcus stepped through the threshold and immediately felt it—that strange, crawling sensation under his skin, like invisible fingers brushing over his arms and neck. Subtle but invasive, just like last time. He didn't flinch, but his shoulders tightened all the same.
"House still doesn't like me," he muttered, brushing a bead of rain off his brow.
"I told you, it's very discerning company," Alexa replied as she closed the door behind him. The locks clicked on their own, one after the other, with a metallic purr that felt far too alive.
Marcus didn't waste time. He pulled the vial from his coat pocket and held it out to her between two fingers. "I need you to check something for me."
Alexa raised a brow as she stepped closer, her bare feet making no sound on the polished floor. The warm lighting of the house caught the edges of the vial as she took it from him, turning it in her fingers like it was a rare gem. "Oh? A gift?"
"It's supernatural," Marcus said plainly. "I think it's vampiric blood. Mixed with something else. Thought I'd run it by a professional before I make a move."
She said nothing at first, just held the vial to the light. The pale purple shimmer inside twisted in unnatural patterns, like ink suspended in water but refusing to settle.
Alexa's smile thinned. "This is very well made. A proper alchemist put this together. Not some amateur tossing herbs into a cauldron hoping for a miracle."
Marcus crossed his arms. "Any chance you know who?"
Her tongue traced the edge of her lower lip, slow and deliberate. "Vladimir Caron."
Marcus's brow furrowed.
"He works the black market," she continued. "Private commissions. Dirty work. Has a flair for enchantments that cling to the bloodstream. If this is what I think it is…" She twirled the vial between two fingers, admiring it like a work of art. "Then yes. He made it. And I assume," she glanced up at him, "this is a drug of some sort?"
Marcus nodded. "Enhancer. Temporary. Hits fast. Strength, speed—everything physical gets boosted almost instantly."
Alexa gave a soft, amused chuckle. "So basic. Vampire blood alone can do so much more, you know."
"Instead of critiquing his work," Marcus said dryly, "why don't you just tell me where I can find him so I can shut this down?"
She looked at him with the kind of smugness that always made him feel like a cat had just cornered a mouse. "How about…" She tilted her head, voice slipping into a purr. "Instead of me just telling you... I come with you?"
Before Marcus could argue, Alexa's fingers moved—small, practiced tugs—and whatever fragile excuse for clothing she'd been wearing slid off and to the floor in one elegant whisper of silk. She didn't flinch or pause, just gave him a playful wink and strolled—naked and utterly unconcerned—toward the hallway.
Marcus blinked, stunned despite himself, as she reached her bedroom door and looked back over her shoulder.
"I'll go get dressed," she said sweetly, "so why don't you wait right there, dear~?"
The door clicked shut.
Marcus groaned and rubbed his eyes with both hands. "I hate my life."