The rain didn’t just fall on the Blackwood estate; it seemed to dissolve into the very stone of the manor, slicking the gargoyles until they looked like they were sweating.

"You talk a lot about yourself, Julian," she whispered, leaning in. The candlelight caught the sharp edge of her cheekbones. "But do you ever think about what you leave behind? The people you use? The shadows you create?"

Suddenly, the heavy double doors at the end of the hall groaned open. A soft, rhythmic thudding began—the sound of bare feet on wood. A second woman, identical to Mina but with hair as white as bone, stepped into the light. Then a third, smaller and swifter, emerged from the shadows behind the velvet curtains.

Julian stood up, his glass shattering on the floor. The wine pooled around his shoes like a crime scene. "Who are they? What is this?"