It filled his room like fog, curling around his legs, swirling along the walls and ceiling. The atmosphere thickened, charged with energy, like the seconds before a lightning strike.
Then, without a sound—the masked figure appeared.
She stood in the center of his room, completely still. Her long hoodie covered her from head to thigh, shadowed and nondescript, and the same strange wooden mask obscured her face, its carved features smiling faintly. Unlike before, she didn't radiate her terrifying presence. In fact, she seemed to be actively suppressing it. But even without that overwhelming aura, the scent of her kind—the earthy, musky smell of werewolf—was unmistakable.
Jake slowly lowered the flute. "You came."
The masked woman tilted her head slightly, her voice calm and almost amused beneath the mask. "I didn't think you'd make up your mind this early. Especially not without evolving your vampire body to the warlock stage."
