MY SUGAR MUMMY IS A BEAUTIFUL VAMPIRE

The portal between worlds shimmered like oil on water, distorting reality as Blake stepped through. His body was still raw, still healing, but in his hand, he clutched Rose's soul-crystal, its gentle glow illuminating his gaunt face while his other hand, he held Rose above his shoulder.

The familiar world collapsed behind him, sealing itself shut with a sound like tearing silk.

And then—silence.

Just the wind through trees. The scent of pine and soil. The steady drip of morning dew.

Home.

Their cabin stood just as they had left it, nestled among towering pines at the edge of the clearing. Smoke-stained windows. Weathered logs. The porch swing Blake had built when they first moved in, creaking gently in the breeze.

But something was... off.

Blake's eyes narrowed as he scanned the tree line. The pines were taller, thicker. The undergrowth had changed, reclaiming parts of the path that had once been clear. Nature had encroached, as if no one had been here to push it back.

"Reggie?" Blake called out, his voice still raw from the battle. "Randal?"

No answer.

"Dumphries, you old bastard! Where are you?"

Only the wind replied, rustling through leaves that should not have grown so thick.

Blake looked down at the soul-crystal in his palm. "Almost there, Rose," he whispered. "Almost home."

He approached the cabin cautiously, each step measured, his senses—dulled from the battle but still far sharper than any human's—stretched to their limits. No heartbeats inside. No scent of blood or life.

The door creaked open at his touch, unlocked. That wasn't right. Reggie was paranoid about security, always had been.

Inside, a thin layer of dust covered everything. Not the thick blanket of years of neglect, but enough to suggest weeks of absence. The furniture was where it should be. Blake's bottle of premium O-negative still sat half-empty on the coffee table. Rose's favorite shawl was draped over the back of the rocking chair.

It looked like they had just stepped out. Just... not recently.

"Reggie? Randal?" Blake called again, knowing now he wouldn't get an answer.

He moved to the bedroom, where he laid Rose's body.

Rose's body lay on their bed. Pale skin like porcelain. Dark hair spread across the pillow like spilled ink. Her expression peaceful, as if she were merely sleeping.

Blake took a step back only to approach slowly, almost reverently, the soul-crystal pulsing brighter with each step closer to her body.

"I got you back," he whispered, sitting beside her still form. "Just like I promised."

He placed the crystal on her chest, directly over where her heart should beat. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the crystal began to sink, melting into her like ice into warm water. A soft glow spread throughout her body, visible beneath her skin—her veins and arteries illuminated from within, a network of light replacing the blood that had long ago gone still.

Blake held his breath.

Rose gasped, her back arching as her soul reconnected with her body. Her eyes flew open—pure white light at first, then slowly fading to their familiar amber.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

"Blake?" Her voice was hoarse from disuse.

"I'm here," he said, taking her hand. "I'm right here."

Rose sat up slowly, looking around with confusion. "Nemisis—"

"Is gone." Blake squeezed her hand. "I destroyed it. Well, most of it. Enough that it won't be bothering anyone for a very long time."

Rose touched her chest where the crystal had entered. "How long was I...?"

"I don't know," Blake admitted. "Time works differently in the spirit world. But I got you back. That's all that matters."

She looked at him properly then, her eyes widening at his appearance. His clothes were in tatters. His skin, normally pale, was almost translucent, showing the weakened network of veins beneath. He had used too much blood, given too much of himself.

"You need to feed," she said.

Blake shook his head. "Later. First, let's find the others."

He helped her stand, her movements stiff but growing more fluid with each passing second. Together, they searched the cabin—every room, every closet, every possible hiding spot. No sign of Reggie, Randal, or Dumphries.

"Where could they be?" Rose asked, her voice stronger now. "They wouldn't just leave."

Blake had been wondering the same thing. "I don't know. But something's not right."

They returned to the main room, and Rose noticed the kitchen for the first time. Her memories returned of the scene of her last moments before Nemisis had taken control—shattered plates on the floor, a spray of dried blood across the cabinets, a chair overturned.

No one had could stop her then. No one.

"Blake," she said softly, moving toward the kitchen. "How long were we gone?"

"I don't know," he repeated, following her. "But we're back now. That's what matters."

Rose reached the kitchen sink and froze, staring at her reflection in the window above it. Her face was unchanged—vampires didn't age, after all—but something in her eyes was different. She had seen things in Nemisis's grasp, experienced horrors she couldn't yet bring herself to describe.

"I want to see Celena," she said suddenly, turning to Blake. "Now. Tonight."

Blake tensed. "Rose, we just got you back. We should take some time, figure out what's happened here. Celena is safe with Nana in the city. She'll still be there tomorrow."

"I need to see my daughter, Blake," Rose insisted, her voice taking on a hard edge. "I've been... away... too long already."

Blake sighed, approaching her slowly. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, both of them looking at their reflections in the darkened window.

"Tomorrow," he said softly. "First light. We'll go to the city, find Celena, tell everyone we're back. I promise."

Rose leaned back against him, her body relaxing slightly. "Everyone must be so worried."

"They'll be overjoyed to see you." Blake pressed a kiss to her neck, . "To see us."

Rose turned in his arms, facing him. "You look terrible," she said, but with a small smile.

"Fought a familiar demon. Won. Not bad for a day's work." He tried to smile back, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"You need blood," she insisted, moving to the refrigerator. She opened it, finding several bottles—their emergency supply. She grabbed one, checking the label. "This is still good."

Blake took the bottle when she offered it, uncorking it with his teeth. The scent hit him immediately—rich, intoxicating. He drank deeply, feeling strength return to his limbs, color to his skin.

Rose watched him, her own thirst evident in her eyes. When he finished, he handed her a fresh bottle.

"To being home," he said.

"To being together," she replied, drinking with the same desperate need.

When they had both fed, they stood in the kitchen, among the evidence of Rose's last moments of freedom before Nemisis had claimed her. Neither spoke for a long moment.

"I missed you," Blake finally said. "Every second."

"I was aware, sometimes," Rose admitted quietly. "When Nemisis would let me. I saw you fighting. I felt your blood burning."

Blake reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I would have fought forever."

"I know." She leaned into his touch. "That's why it let me go, I think. It knew you would never stop."

Blake pulled her close, kissing her properly for the first time since her return. Her lips were cool at first, then warmed against his. When they parted, he rested his forehead against hers.

"We should clean this place up," he said. "Make it ours again."

Rose nodded, looking around at the kitchen, at the evidence of violence. "Yes. I want to erase all trace of that... thing... from our home."

They worked together, moving with the synchronized efficiency of a couple who had shared space for decades. Rose swept up broken dishes while Blake wiped dried blood from the cabinets. They straightened furniture, dusted surfaces, opened windows to let fresh air cleanse the mustiness.

As Blake reached to adjust a crooked picture frame, he noticed something on the wall behind it—a calendar. He pulled it closer, frowning at the date.

September 2019.

The last time he had checked, before entering the spirit world, it had been April 2014.

Five years.

They had lost five years.

The bottle in Rose's hand slipped, shattering on the floor. She had seen the calendar too.

"Blake?" Her voice was barely audible.

He turned to her, the calendar still in his hand. "It's not possible," he said, but even as the words left his mouth, he knew it was. The taller trees. The changed undergrowth. The absence of their friends.

Five years.

"Celena," Rose whispered, her eyes wide with horror. "She was just two when... she'd be..." Read new chapters at My Virtual Library Empire

"Seven," Blake finished for her. "She Seven now."

Rose's hands began to shake. "Five years of her life. We missed five years of our daughter's life."

Blake crossed the room, crushing the calendar in his fist as he pulled Rose into his arms. "She's still our daughter," he said fiercely. "We're still her parents."

"She'll be so different," Rose said into his chest. "She'll have changed so much."

"So have we," Blake replied. "But we're still us. And she's still her."

Rose pulled back, looking up at him with eyes suddenly burning with determination. "We're going to the city tonight," she said. It wasn't a question.

Blake nodded. There was no point arguing. "Tonight," he agreed.

They stood together in their cabin, strangers in a familiar place, preparing to face a world that had moved on without them. A world where their daughter had grown five years without her parents.

The sun was setting outside, painting the forest in shades of gold and red.

Night was coming.

Their time.

"Together," Blake said, taking Rose's hand.

"Together," she echoed, squeezing his fingers.

They would face whatever waited for them in the city—whatever changes, whatever challenges—as they had faced everything else.

Together.

Even if the world they were returning to wasn't the one they had left behind.