He bares his teeth, his eyes turning blood-red, and I realize this is no man at all.
I try to call for help, but it’s over before I can even take my next breath. The moon peeks out of its hiding spot behind a cloud and laughs at me, knowing full well I’ll forever be a slave to its light.
Warm blood trickles down my neck as the thief robs me of my life. My eyes shut, closing tight, and the world fades away.
All sounds.
All feelings.
I can no longer feel the heat on my skin.
Am I dead?
No, I’m not dead… I’ve become my own kind of monster.
One
Allison
* * *
Section 325 is the cemetery of the university’s library. Books no one reads fill the dusty shelves, their category markers jutting out like tombstones. Especially high in the stacks, where law books flaunt their decaying spines. It’s late, nearly closing time, but I’m on a mission to find a particular book to finish my paper on historical vampires in the eighteenth century.
“Where are you hiding?” I murmur into the musty air, scanning the shelves before me.
Farther right.
Ah, god. Not again. It’s the same male voice randomly popping into my head over the last month. Worry coils in my stomach, and I shake my head to get rid of the slightly accented voice directing me.
I’ve told myself a million times the stress of trying to graduate with honors has manifested in a bizarre way, but has it?
“I am not crazy,” I whisper to myself.
We’re all a little mad, Allison. Now move yourself farther right.
If I ignore the sound, act like it’s not happening, it’ll go away. It’s only my brain dealing with the pressure of finishing my thesis on time. That’s all.
If you don’t move, you’ll never finish. Move.
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
The only response I receive is the low hum of the air system and the creaks of the building’s bones. I uproot my feet and continue the search.
At the end of the row, snug between Vicar Vampires and the steel rail of the shelf, I find the holy grail—Victorian Vampires: Myth or Legend by Donna Bixler.
“Tah-dah,” I whisper as I slide the heavy volume from its resting spot, ignoring the fact my inner voice somehow knew its exact location.
With it safely tucked to my chest, I scramble down the rickety stepladder until my red flats stand firm on the white marble floor.
A plume of dust tickles my nose as I brush off the faded front, letting my fingers ghost along the gold embossed letters. Tingles of excitement zap my fingertips.
“May you rest in peace,” I say to the unchosen books I’m leaving behind.
I’m spooked that I’ll hear the voice again, so I don’t bother putting the ladder away and hustle back through the coffin-like maze of shelves to my study area hidden in a nook of the empty library.
I plop down in my seat and gently place the book on the table. It really is a stupid assignment, but one that fascinates me every time I think about the topic.
Surely, there weren’t actual vampires?