Witches tend to do so. ( spoken with equal judgement — being a vampire, let alone a hybrid, was often enough reason to be hated and spurned. ) It was our mother who made us what we are through an Immortality Spell, fearing that horrible death might come upon anymore of her children. But it was with this bastardization of nature that ensured not only our endless survival, but spawned our bloodlust. And witches believe in balance; we were an affront to that belief.

He knew what we were. From the very moment our horses carried us into his home, he sensed the darkness of our presence, despite how we freely walked in the sun. But he was smart. He didn't yell through the glen what we were. He waited.

He waited until the peak of the summer solstice, when the sun's power is at its greatest, and he endeavored to harness that power to strip the magic from the trinkets we wore that protected us.