I died on a patch of black ice, choking on my own blood. Now, I'm drinking vintage champagne at thirty thousand feet. Life, or whatever this second chance is, has a twisted sense of humor.
The thought came without emotion. Clinical. She'd slipped on black ice outside her apartment—thirty-two years old, no family at the hospital, no one to call. The paramedics had tried. She remembered their faces more than the pain. Young guy with kind eyes. Older woman with efficient hands. Neither could stop the internal bleeding from where her head cracked against the curb.
Pathetic way to go.
But then she'd opened her eyes to this. Eighteen again. Different face in the mirror. Different name on her passport. Same shitty sister.
Dove flexed her fingers against the armrest. The body was… better. Dove Vale had been plain. Dove Visalia was something else entirely. Red hair that caught light like copper wire, skin that looked airbrushed without makeup, curves that made her old body look like a rough draft.
Vampire Childe. The words had appeared in her vision six months ago, glowing blue text hovering in the air.
[System Initialized: Vampire Childe Evolution Path Detected].
She'd spent the first week after transmigrating locked in her room, reading everything the system would show her. Vampire hierarchy. Powers. Politics. And Childes—the rarest classification. Not turned vampires. Not born vampires. Something in between.
A human whose body was awakening to become a High Vampire. The change happened slowly, triggered by some unknown factor the system refused to explain. But the signs were unmistakable: otherworldly beauty, no body odor, flawless skin, an aura that made vampires instinctively want to protect and possess. Childes were gifts, the system had said. Each one destined to strengthen the vampire race.
And they were coveted. Fought over. Claimed by the most powerful vampires.
Original Dove Visalia had never made it to the resort. Pushed down the stairs by Alice before she could even check in. Dead at eighteen, buried in a closed casket, mourned by no one who mattered. The books never mentioned her. She was a footnote. A catalyst for Alice's guilt spiral that came much later.
But this Dove—transmigrated Dove—had triggered something when she'd woken in this body. The system. The awakening. Six months of hiding from Alice while her body transformed. Six months of her skin clearing, her features sharpening, her presence becoming something other.
The original Dove was never a Childe. Just a dead girl. This Dove was something else entirely.
She'd read the books. All six of them, back when she'd had time between shifts at the coffee shop and avoiding her mother's phone calls. "Dracula Rising" had been her guilty pleasure during lunch breaks. Romance, horror, vampires taking over the world. She'd skimmed the sex scenes and rolled her eyes at the dramatic monologues.
Now she was living in the prequel.
Tutorial Quest: Arrive at Cetatea de Sânge alive.
Alive. As if there was a chance she wouldn't be.
Except there was. The staircase scene. Alice's jealous rage. Marble slick with melted snow.
Dove pressed her thumbnail into the leather armrest.
Not this time.
"Excuse me." Alice's voice cut through the cabin. Sharp. Entitled. "I asked for Pinot Grigio. This is Chardonnay."
The flight attendant smiled with her teeth. "Ma'am, we only carry Chardonnay in first class—"
"Then get me something from business." Alice flicked her wrist like she was dismissing a servant. "I'm not paying for first class to drink Chardonnay."
Dove didn't turn around. She knew what her sister looked like—blonde highlights that cost more than rent, fake Chanel bag in her lap, yoga pants that said Bride across the ass even though her engagement had fallen apart three months ago. Alice Visalia was twenty-one going on sixteen.
"Ma'am, this is your third glass of wine—"
"Are you refusing to serve me?" Alice's voice climbed an octave. Other passengers shifted in their seats. "I want your name. I want your supervisor's name. I want—"
"It's fine." Dove stood and turned. The flight attendant's eyes widened slightly. They always did. "Give her mine."
The woman took the bottle from Dove's hand. Her fingers lingered a moment too long. Her pupils dilated. Then she blinked and stepped back, professional smile snapping into place.
Alice's mouth opened. Closed. Her gaze dragged down Dove's body with something ugly underneath.
Jealousy, Dove noted. More than the original Dove ever faced. Six months ago, when she'd first looked in the mirror and seen this face, Alice had gone silent for three days. Then the comments started. Did you get work done? That's a lot of makeup. Are you sure you're eating enough?
Now Alice just stared.
"You didn't have to—" her sister started.
"I know."
Dove walked back to her seat and watched the sun finish dying over the Atlantic. First class was wasted on people like Alice. The leather was butter-soft. The blanket smelled like lavender. There was actual legroom.
She'd spent thirty-two years in economy. In basement apartments. In survival mode. This body was her golden ticket and she was going to ride it all the way to silk sheets and room service.
The flight attendant passed by again. Didn't make eye contact this time. But Dove caught the way her hand moved to her pocket. To her phone.
Reporting in, Dove thought. They know I'm here.
The system flickered in the corner of her vision.
[New Mission Available].
Dove blinked and the blue text expanded.
[MISSION: FATE DIVERGENCE DETECTED]
Objective: Avoid the "Staircase Incident." Status: Alice Visalia is 82% intoxicated and 100% envious~ Bonus: Make her regret her existence without breaking a nail Reward: 500 Blood Points & Early Access: [Predator's Presence].
The tilde on that tilde did something to her. Made the whole situation feel less like a tragedy and more like a game. Which, according to the system's startup text six months ago, was exactly what this was.
[You are a Vampire Childe. The rarest, most coveted being in vampire society. Use this advantage.]
She intended to.
Dove closed her eyes and thought about the original death scene. The Visalia sisters arriving at Cetatea de Sânge Resort just after sunset. Luggage piling up on golden carts. Alice walking ahead with Mina while Original Dove trailed behind because that's what she always did—followed, apologized, took up less space.
Alice had turned on the third step. You're embarrassing me. Can't you walk faster? Then her hand on Dove's shoulder. A shove. Marble stairs are slippery when they're wet from melted snow.
Dove had read that scene twice. Once casually. Once after waking up in this body.
The author had described the blood in detail. Red on white marble. Alice's scream. The resort staff rushing over. No one noticed Alice's satisfied smile before she started sobbing.
The plane jolted. Seat belt light came on.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we've begun our descent into Reykjavik. Please return to your seats and ensure your tray tables are locked."
Alice stood and swayed. The wine had gone to her head. She clutched the seat in front of her and made her way back to coach, where she'd insisted on sitting because "Mina's in coach and I want to sit with my real friends."
Dove had paid for first class herself. Money from the trust fund that came with this body. Original Dove never used it—too afraid of making Alice jealous. Too used to making herself small.
Not this Dove.
She stretched her legs and accepted a warm towel from the flight attendant. The woman smiled at her. Genuinely this time. Something knowing in her expression.
"Your sister seems…" the attendant paused.
"She's drunk," Dove said simply.
"I meant difficult."
"That too."
They shared a look. The attendant refilled her water glass and moved on.
The descent took forever. Dove pressed her face against the window again and watched Reykjavik appear beneath them—lights spreading like spilled glitter against volcanic black. Somewhere in those mountains was Cetatea de Sânge. The Blood Castle. Fifteen hundred acres of Gothic luxury masquerading as a resort.
Also a hunting ground. But the guests didn't know that yet.
Soon, Dove thought. Blood Moon in seven weeks. Then everything starts.
The plane touched down. Smooth landing.
Dove waited until everyone else had deplaned. She gathered her things slowly—cashmere wrap, leather purse, the paperback she'd been pretending to read. First class perks included leaving last without being rushed.
The jetway smelled like recycled air and cheap carpet cleaner. She followed it into the terminal and immediately spotted Alice's blonde head near baggage claim.
Mina Harker held court in the center of a group. Tall, dark-haired, pretty in a calculated way. She wore ripped jeans and an off-shoulder sweater that showed her collarbones. Two guys flanked her—Ray with his arm slung over her shoulders, Peter standing too close. Becky hovered at the edge looking nervous.
Alice ran to them. Actual running. Her luggage abandoned by the carousel.
"Mina!" She threw her arms around the other girl. "Oh my god, I missed you so much. This flight was torture."
Mina hugged her back. Barely. "Alice. Hi. Did you—oh." Her gaze landed on Dove.
Everyone stopped talking.
Dove knew what they saw. Red hair in a loose braid. Designer jeans that actually fit. White sweater that cost more than their entire outfits combined. No makeup except clear lip gloss, because she didn't need it.
Ray whistled. Low and appreciative.
Alice's face went red. "That's my sister." The words came out strangled. "Dove."
Ray leaned in, sniffing the air near Dove. He looked confused. "What perfume is that? It smells like... nothing. But, like, the most expensive nothing I've ever smelled."
Dove smiled inwardly. Childe traits. No sweat, no oils, just perfection.
"We should get our luggage." Alice grabbed his arm. Possessive. "The shuttle leaves in twenty minutes."
Dove walked past them to the carousel. Her suitcase appeared first—black leather with gold clasps. She lifted it easily. Childe strength made it feel like lifting a purse.
Peter moved beside her. "Need help with that?"
"No."
"I'm Peter." He smiled. White teeth. Thought he was charming. "You're Alice's sister?"
"Yes."
"Funny, you don't look—"
"We have different fathers." Dove turned and looked at him directly. The smile fell off his face. Something in her gaze made him step back.
[Passive Aura: "Predator's Presence" (Dormant)]
[Warning: Vampires may sense your true nature if you maintain eye contact too long].
She looked away first. Walked toward the exit.
Alice's voice carried across the terminal. "She's always been difficult. Ignore her. Come on, let's find the shuttle."
The Icelandic air was sharp and cold. It smelled like snow and sea salt. Dove pulled her wrap tighter and scanned the parking area.
Three black Mercedes vans waited near the curb. Gold script on their sides: Cetatea de Sânge Resort & Spa.
A driver stood by the nearest one. Tall, pale, wearing a black suit that probably cost more than a car. His eyes tracked her movement. Then widened.
He straightened and bowed. Actually bowed.
"My lady," he said quietly. "Welcome. Your luggage?"
Dove handed it over. His fingers brushed hers and he inhaled sharply. Stepped back.
He knows, she thought. He can sense it.
"I'll take excellent care of this," the driver said. His accent was Eastern European. Formal. "Please, take the front seat. You'll be more comfortable."
Alice's group spilled out of the terminal in a loud cluster. Mina laughing at something Ray said. Becky trailing behind. Canden—she'd forgotten about him—stumbled slightly, eyes red. Definitely high.
The driver's expression didn't change, but Dove saw the contempt underneath. The way he looked at them like they were livestock.
Because they are, she thought. To him.
"This the resort shuttle?" Ray asked loudly. "Sweet. These vans are nice."
The driver opened the back doors without answering. Alice climbed in first, still talking. The rest followed.
Dove slid into the passenger seat. Leather. Heated. The driver closed her door carefully before walking around to his side.
He started the engine and the interior lights dimmed. Behind them, Alice's laughter mixed with Mina's voice. Something about the resort's spa packages.
Dove watched the airport lights fade in the side mirror. "How did you know I was coming?"
The driver glanced at her. His eyes caught the dashboard light—pale gray, almost silver. "We knew since you stepped foot on the plane."
Dove's pulse kicked once. "How?"
He merged onto the highway. Smooth. Practiced. "The King has been waiting. Not for you specifically. But for a Childe..."
"My reservation—"
"Has been upgraded. Substantially." He glanced at her again, something like amusement in his expression. "A Deluxe Room is unsuitable for a Childe. Your accommodations have been… adjusted."
Heat crawled up her neck. "I didn't ask for special treatment."
"Childes don't need to ask." The driver's attention returned to the road. "Your presence has a signature. The moment our people were notified, Mr. Dracul was informed immediately."
Dracula. The name settled in her chest like a stone.
"Informed of what, exactly?"
"That a Childe had entered our territory." He paused. "That you were coming home."
"This isn't my home."
"Not yet." Simple. Certain. "But it will be."
The words hung in the air between them. Dove watched darkness swallow the landscape outside. Volcanic rock. Patches of snow turning blue in the twilight.
Behind them, Alice's voice rose in another story. Something about her ex-fiancé and a yacht party. Ray's responding laugh sounded forced.
"They have no idea where they are," Dove said quietly.
"No. They do not." The driver's expression didn't change, but something cold moved beneath it. "This resort has been operating for three hundred years. Humans come for luxury. They leave… changed. Or they don't leave at all."
Dove turned back to the window. Mountains loomed closer now—sharp peaks that looked like teeth against the darkening sky.
"It's an hour drive, my lady," the driver said, softer now. "Please let me know if you need anything."
They drove in silence after that. Alice's group eventually quieted, their voices dropping to murmurs. Someone—probably Canden—started snoring.
Dove closed her eyes and felt the system's presence hovering at the edge of her consciousness. Waiting. Watching.
[Approaching Mission Location, Prepare yourself.].
She was ready.
The resort appeared suddenly—a Gothic sprawl of towers and spires carved into the mountainside, lit from below with amber floodlights. It looked like something out of a vampire movie.
Because it was.
The van slowed. Dove's fingers tightened on the armrest.
[Mission Location Reached! The stairs are slippery. Your sister has been drinking. The scenario will unfold in approximately three minutes].
Great, Dove thought. Thanks for the heads up.
The van stopped at the bottom of a wide marble staircase. Fifty steps at least, curving upward to massive oak doors flanked by stone gargoyles. Light spilled down the steps. Golden. Inviting.
Also wet from melted snow.
The driver opened her door first. "My lady."
Dove stepped out. The cold bit through her wrap immediately.
Behind her, the back doors opened and Alice's group tumbled out, loud and oblivious.
"Holy shit," Canden breathed. "This place is insane."
"It's like a castle," Becky added.
"It's giving vampire vibes," Mina said, laughing. "Very Dracula."
Alice started up the stairs, her heels clicking dangerously on the wet marble. She paused on the third step, looking back at Dove with that familiar, jagged glint in her eyes.
"Come on, Dove. Stop dawdling."
I saw the way her weight shifted. I knew the exact second her hand would reach for my shoulder.
[Mission Starting: Don't Fall.]
I didn't move. I just adjusted my cashmere wrap and smiled. In my last life, I was the victim. In this one? I'm the prize. And you don't push the prize down the stairs.