The fangs.
Everything fit together with horrifying neatness.
The worst part?
Some small, stubborn part of me wasn't even surprised.
Grandma used to tell me tales of magic, witches and shifters in my youth. Vampires who made deals in blood, men who could change into beasts, women who had instinctual affinities with the elements of earth. I’d ask her for a new story every night,loving the way she weaved the tales and made them fantastic and scary all at once.
My heart squeezes at the thought of my grandma. I can picture her long white hair in its side braid and the red polka dot apron she always wore. I kept it; the worn cotton is a familiar weight when I bake.
A familiar ache settles in my chest.
Grandma was a great storyteller. The best.
And now I can’t help but wonder if her stories were rooted in some truth. Maybe Grandma knew more about the world than I do.
A prickle starts at the base of my skull, the kind that says you’re in someone’s line of sight. It's the same ugly hum I've been noticing lately, a weight in the air that means I’m not alone.
Goosebumps rise on my arms and the back of my neck and I have just enough time to turn before I’m slammed into the brick facade of the building beside me.
Le fucking ouch.
My ears ring from the force of the blow behind my head and I try to look at my assailant but everything is blurry.
“Bossss will be pleasssed when I bring him someffing ssso ssweet.”
A threatening hiss greets me and when I finally focus, all I can see are sharp fangs, and red eyes.
My stomach tries to crawl up my throat. Every muscle locks, every instinct screams that I’m prey, pinned to the wall by something that sees me as nothing more than a meal.
No regular man has teeth that sharp or long or eyes that red.
Fuck. What should I do?
A strange heat blooms from my right hip, not painful exactly, more like a muscle unknotting that I didn’t know was clenched, and it spreads outward through my arms and legs until I notice with surprise that I’m glowing a faint purple.
What is happening?
I don’t have time to think about it any further, because the hissy vamp gets back to his feet. His eyes dart around, confused.
“I can sssmell you, little thing. Can’t hide that blood from me.”
He turns in a slow circle, sniffing the air like a dog on a scent. His head sweeps my way, and those burning red eyes look straight through me—not past me, through me, like I’m a ghost in my own body.
Huh.
Can he not… see me?
“Run, Kallie!” A familiar voice booms from my left.
My eyes widen when I see Stud Muffin Alek tackle the red eyed vamp to the ground.
What is he doing here? Was he following me again? Questions flood my mind, but there’s no time for answers.
“I said run!” he yells again, then grunts when the hissy vamp lands a blow.
I sprint around the corner, pushing myself as fast as I can toward my apartment, keys already in hand.
