One Year Earlier
The clicking of mykeyboard drowns out the busy traffic filtering through the open windows of the office bullpen, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling distracted. There’s nothing duller than writing up an article detailing the different kinds of lace some princess in England wore to some tennis game. No offense to the people who do this and enjoy it, but it’s not me.
I’ve been back in my hometown of Hillsview, Arizona, writing vacuous articles for almost a year. It pained me to swap the bustling subways of New York for desert and mountains, but I had to come back. I had a job to do. I was here, putting up with this shit for one reason and one reason only.
To find my mom’s killer.
Mom was the entire reason I got into journalism in the first place. Originally, I had planned to join law enforcement. I even went through six months of Army-style basic training; learning how to psychologically out-maneuver your opponent wasn’t for the weak. But I realized all too quickly that becoming a police officer wouldn’t get me what I wanted.
The mystery surrounding mom’s death often made people look at me like I had three heads. The cops had laughed hysterically at my witness statement, claiming my story had been a cocktail of wild imagination and shock.
I know what I saw.
My mom was killed by a vampire. Ever since then, I bounced between jobs I thought might help me bring her killer to justice. I had run out of leads in New York. Every time I got close enough to catch him, he disappeared. That’s how I ended up writing shitty articles for Hillsview News.
Up until now, there’s been no pattern in the vampire coven’s appearances. Until I saw a recent article about a strange circus that visits Hillsview only once every fifteen years. The exact date and timeframe was identical to the night of my mom’s murder, and it also matched the other articles I’d seen.
Wherever this circus pops up across the country, people seem to go missing. From what I can tell, it started out small. Only a couple of people from each town had disappeared into thin air. Not enough for a decent journalist to put two and two together.
I’d probably have missed it myself if I didn’t see what had happened to my mom. It’s the only advantage I have in this situation.
Cursing the hottest and longest day of the year under my breath, I flex my fingers and crack my neck as a bead of sweat trickles down my back. I stare down at the blurry words on the computer screen, my mom’s face flashing to the forefront of mymind’s eye. I try to stifle my irritation over how none of this mindless journalism matters to me.
Finally, I look up from my computer at the sound of my name being called.
“Danni! My office, now!”
I cringe and crinkle my nose at the sound of my boss’s abrupt tone. Alan’s steely eyes meet mine over the deep brown cubicles and I gulp, wondering what the fuck I’ve done to piss the douchebag off now. It’s no secret in the office that I don’t like Alan in the slightest.
He runs a tight ship and makes it known to absolutely anyone who would listen that he gave up his job at the New York Times to come over and run this joint. So naturally, everything must be perfect.
I have to force myself not to roll my eyes as I get up and head into his office on the other side of the floor.
I straighten my white blouse and black pencil skirt, then inhale deeply to calm myself before I enter the room. I instantly regret it. His office reeks of stale cigar smoke and an old, spicy cologne that stopped being produced in the 1940’s. Alan is a walking cliché.
I force myself to plaster a false smile on my face as I enter.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” I say sweetly, purposely leaving the door open as I take a seat in front of his enormous desk.
“You got that piece on Princess Florence done yet?” He doesn’t look up from the papers he’s examining in his hands. Alan is very good at making a person feel like they’re the smallest fish in the pond.
“Almost done, sir.” I keep my tone cheerful and respectful despite my insides screaming at me to tell him to stick his job right where the sun doesn’t shine.
“Good. I need you to head out into the field tonight. Straight after you’re done here.”
My heart leaps and I have to ball my hands into fists to hide my excitement. Could this be it? If my calculations are correct, the circus will arrive in Hillsview any day now.
“Yes, sir. What am I reporting on, exactly?”
Please tell me I’m finally going to catch a vampire tonight.
Alan finally looks up from his papers with narrow, beady eyes. “Circus. Tonight. Autumn Fields just outside of town.”
My heart leaps.
This is it.
Years of planning and countless sacrifices have all led up to this moment.
