It was standing there, with blood on her fingers and that smell coating the back of her throat, that the word finally swam through her consciousness. It was such a full, immediate understanding that it must have crossed her mind, if only subconsciously, before that moment. Maybe in the health center. Or maybe the moment she’d spotted the bruise on her neck.
“Mila?” Her voice sounded so quiet next to the blare of her thoughts. The useless cries of a door alarm for an intruder who was long gone. “I’m just gonna use the bathroom for a second.”
“Huh?” came Mila’s faint voice in reply. “Sure. Take your time.”
Lucy slipped through the nearby door and flicked on the overhead fluorescent lights. She didn’t run. It didn’t seem like there was much point anymore.
Her perpetually pink complexion was a sallow gray in the bathroom light. Her pale blond hair was a ghostly cloud from the humidity. When she swept it back from her neck, it felt damp under her fingertips.
She didn’t have to look. She could have left her hair right where it was, followed Mila back to her dorm. She could probably still pretend, if she tried hard enough, that none of this was really happening. But it would still be right there against her skin.
So she moved her hair clear. And she could see now exactly what was bleeding. Mixed among the mottled blue and purple in the center of the bruise, there were two deliberate punctures along the curve of her neck.
There was no such thing as vampires.
But if there wasn’t—then what was this?
It was a little past four a.m. when Mila let Lucy back into her dorm, but Whitney’s bed was still untouched. Lucy didn’t have long to worry, though—when she picked up her phone, she saw that Whitney had texted her earlier, while she’d been asleep.
Visiting my parents for the day. Won’t be back till late—don’t lock the deadbolt.
She pursed her lips and put her phone aside. She would have welcomed the clacking of Whitney’s keyboard. Or the light of the laptop, or even just the sound of someone else’s breathing. In the dark and the quiet of the dorm, even lying there awake felt indistinguishable from sleep. And sleep didn’t exactly feel safe at the moment.
So she curled sideways onto the bed and watched the door. It wasn’t until the dorm walls were washed with early-morning light that she allowed herself the luxury of shutting her eyes.
She jerked awake a few hours later with a gasp. No one was there to shush her for it.
She hadn’t meant to doze off, but she had to admit that it had done her good. Her head was less tight, her body less heavy. The overcast light still made her eyes water, but it wasn’t quite as painful to look at anymore. It was more like trying to read very small text: a strain, but a doable one.
Lucy draped an arm over her eyes. She could barricade her door, pull the covers over her head, and wait for Whitney or for Monday morning, whichever came first. It would be the easiest thing to do. Maybe even the most logical. But for the first time since the party, she had a clear head. She wasn’t sure she could afford to waste that.
As it turned out, Natalie wasn’t about to waste any time, either. By the time Lucy picked up her phone to text her, Natalie had already texted her twice.
Found someone who talked to Kitchen Guy at the party! We’re meeting at the Falls Quad Café at 2:30.
And then after that, time-stamped a few minutes later:
Do you want to be there? Totally understand if it’s too much, I can handle it myself if you need me to.
Lucy ran a thumb across her phone. If she made it through the next few days, she owed Natalie about five times over.
I want to be there.
Thank you so much for doing this.
Natalie replied quickly.
You’ve got it, babe
See you in a bit.
Lucy got dressed, forced herself through some plain instant grits, and took the shuttle ride to Falls Quad.
The courtyard was a very different place in the sleepy daylight. Even well into the afternoon, the quad was quiet: This time, when Lucy crossed the grass, no curtains fluttered to watch her. She moved quickly anyway.
The Falls Quad Café was markedly nicer than the mostly underground quick-service food court on the other side of campus—and while natural light wasn’t Lucy’s best friend at the moment, the café’s bright airiness was a bit of a comfort. The lunch rush had passed, and most of the seats were empty. The café was liveliest by the door, where it looked like there was a small club fair going on. Lucy summoned a weak smile and politely demurred as several of them tried to pass her flyers.
A few of them had a surprisingly long reach. “Support independent campus radio?” asked the girl at the end of the table, extending her flyer into Lucy’s path.
