The plan

**Marcelo**

Nightfall draped the world in shadows, the sky a deep indigo pierced by the first stars. Marcelo’s coven had settled at a clearing for the night, our makeshift camp alive with the crackle of a bonfire and the low hum of conversation. After dinner, as the scent of roasted meat and woodsmoke lingered in the air, Marcelo stood, his silhouette framed against the flames. He flashed a smile, warm but edged with purpose, and waved his hands to draw everyone’s attention. “Well, brothers,” he said, his voice carrying over the chatter, “I need to talk to my Ame, alone.”

The coven exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of curiosity and amusement, but they rose without protest, drifting into the darkness for a walk. Their footsteps faded, leaving only the snap of burning logs and the distant call of a night bird. I stayed by the bonfire, the heat warming my face as I tucked my knees to my chest, my heart thudding with a mix of anticipation and unease. Marcelo settled beside me, close enough that I could feel the faint energy radiating from him, like a current beneath his skin. His purple eyes caught the firelight, flickering with an intensity that made it hard to look away.

“You said something about always wanting the truth,” he began, his voice low, deliberate, as if he were measuring each word.

I nodded, my throat tightening. “Yes.”

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his gaze never leaving mine. “I need to tell you two things,” he said. “The first is that I’m going to need to use you as bait to catch your father.”

The words landed like a slap, sharp and cold. I stiffened, my fingers digging into the rough fabric of my jeans. “I’m always put in the game like a pawn,” I said, my voice bitter, “even if I don’t want to.” The truth of it stung—Jean, Dimitri, now Marcelo, all maneuvering me into their plans, as if my own desires were irrelevant.

Marcelo’s expression softened, but there was a steel beneath it. “But this time, you’re going to play, Ame,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “And the prize is your freedom.”

Freedom. The word hung between us, tantalizing and elusive. I wanted to believe him, to trust that this dangerous game could unshackle me from the past, but doubt gnawed at me. I swallowed hard, bracing myself. “And the second issue?”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked away, the fire casting shadows across his face. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, heavy with something like sorrow. “Your father might want to kill you,” he said, “or trick Nosferatu into doing it. Because he’s counting on it to increase his power. The moment you die, the powers he took from you will return to him.”

My breath caught, a cold weight settling in my chest. “So, he never loved me?” The question slipped out, raw and vulnerable, exposing a wound I’d carried for years. I’d clung to the hope that Jean, despite his distance, had cared for me in some flawed way. But now, that hope felt like a child’s fantasy, crumbling under the weight of Marcelo’s words.

Marcelo’s eyes met mine again, and I saw a flicker of pain there, as if he hated being the one to shatter me. “I can’t say for sure,” he said gently. “But, since I know him well, I don’t believe that. He never loved my mother either and was her lover for years. I’m sorry for everything.”

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the fire’s restless crackle. I stared into the flames, my mind reeling, my heart a tangle of grief and rage. Marcelo shifted closer, his presence steady but not intrusive, and when he spoke again, his voice was low, almost a whisper. “There’s more,” he said. “Jean killed my mother—his own queen. Or rather, he manipulated Nosferatu into doing it, all to gain more power. I have no doubt he’d do the same to you and still come out as the victim of the story.”

The revelation hit like a physical blow, stealing my breath. My father, a murderer—not just of strangers, but of Marcelo’s mother, the woman he’d claimed to love. And me? I was nothing more than a means to an end, a vessel for power he’d sacrifice without hesitation. The fire’s warmth couldn’t touch the chill spreading through me, my hands trembling as I pressed them to my face. Jean’s betrayal wasn’t new—I’d always sensed his manipulations—but to hear it laid bare, to know he’d orchestrated such horrors, made my blood run cold. I thought of Dimitri, dead by his father’s hand, and wondered if Jean had played a role in that too, pulling strings from the shadows. Was I next, bait not just for Marcelo’s plan but for Jean’s ambitions?

I looked at Marcelo, his face half-lit by the fire, and saw the weight he carried—the loss of his mother, the burden of facing Jean. He was asking me to risk everything, to step into a trap that could end my life, all for a chance at freedom. But what choice did I have? If Jean wanted me dead, running wouldn’t save me. And if Marcelo was right, this was my chance to fight back, to reclaim my power and my life. The bonfire snapped, sending a shower of sparks into the night, and I felt a resolve harden inside me, fragile but fierce. I’d play their game—but this time, I’d play to win.

"He defended me from my grandmother, hid me all my life, pretended to be a therapist to keep me close. And when he came to power, he would find a way to kill me to have more power? He is that monster, isn't he? What a long, lying story he told to build this whole narrative without raising suspicions. How do you know all this?"

" Perpetua, she is our clairvoyant. She saw some things that could happen in the future. That's why I came here. And Morgana has the gift of speaking to spirits. She heard certain confessions from her own grandmother."

"I wouldn't say I'm shocked. But that my paternal family is a horror, oh yes. And if that was the end of Dimitri. It could be mine or who knows, he might still manage to kill me."

" But you are stubborn, aren't you, my sweet Âme? So, whatever happens, don't accept death."

"My goal is to stay alive. I'm too young."

" And pretty"

" Is that a pick-up line, Celo?"- I imitated Santiago.

"Ah, Âme, the things we could do to test our connection."

"I, I'm seeing these scenes, clear your head."

He laughed. Marcelo was a polygamous pervert. I was going to let it go, without new experiences, this time.

…

**Vicky**

We took the long way around to avoid surveillance. We were close. Luckily, we had a way to recharge our cell phones with solar batteries because now we would be walking. Walking during the day, hiding and sleeping at night.

I received a message from Dário. “The devils have arrived. James stayed. I’m sorry. You’re both equally stubborn. He asked me to send you this song: Right here waiting.”

“He’s an idiot,” I replied.

The song was cheesy: “Right here waiting.”

I sighed. Now that we had reversed roles, would James understand that it wasn’t just him who would do everything for me, I would also do everything for him. That I didn’t have to obey his decisions, that we were equals?

Marcelo was told that Jean and his entourage were already at Dracula’s castle. His plan was to confront Nosferatu and Jean by playing them against each other; he would hand me over to whoever convinced him of his innocence in his mother’s death. But no, I would have to stick a poisoned dagger into the warlock's jugular and he would expose the vampire to a fatal poison that would at least weaken him enough to be imprisoned for 100 years. That was the punishment time for the unjust and cowardly murder of a member of the royal family of any of them. Nosferatu, as an original, could not be killed without the approval of the majority of the council, but a hundred years would already weaken him.

Marcelo's warlocks trusted the plan. Marcelo just needed me to have courage, to be able to hug my father and stick the knife in him. On the other hand, would he be able to give the vampire poison? Should I trust Marcelo so much? He was very nice, funny, but he was a warlock prince. To avenge his mother's death or to take Jean's power, what did he really want?

I was dizzy from thinking so much. I couldn't be naive. On the other hand, I felt like I could trust him. Veny! Veny, girl, what do you say? I know it's a big risk, but no one has a better plan, right? Maybe now you need to connect with your witch side and feel what you should do. That's what she answered me.

— Âme, I feel your doubts. We won't be able to win if we don't trust each other. If we have doubts, they'll get us, wolf. I have some witch allies within my mother's coven, but Jean also took his coven, so in the end, it will be you and I who tip the scales, because I won't be able to enter with my brothers.

— This all sucks. I can feel that I should trust you, but even so, I'm apprehensive.

— That's natural. It's your first time in a duel of giants. I'm sure you can lead this attack very well with me. You just need to be prepared for the emotional state of being face to face with your father.

— He's not and never was anything to me, other than a big lie.

— So, let's bring light to the darkness! Marcelo kissed my hand and went ahead with the plan. Siddhartha was to deliver a message requesting an audience between the prince and the vampire king.

I thought it would be interesting to get help from within. Would Valeska have easy access to the castle?