Page 17 of Volik

There’s no way any of that actually happened.

I’m just tired.

I repeat the statement in my head a few more times.

I’m not haunted. The box isn’t haunted. I’m not drugged. The box isn’t drugged. I’m just tired.

The last part is for sure true. I am tired.

I reach across the cushions and pull my laptop out of my bag.

Haunted or not, I have my first day of teaching tomorrow, so going over my lesson plan is a better idea than unpacking anyway.

Turning my computer on, I give it a moment to warm up. Then, instead of doing what I just told myself I’d do, I open the internet browser.

The same tingles from before bounce between my fingertips as I type five letters.

Volik.

Articles fill the screen. But I select the filter for images.

The tingles crawl up my arms, slower than last time, and settle in my chest as I select a photo and enlarge it.

I’ve seen images of Volik before. Everyone has. But I always looked at them with a layer of academic curiosity. Never interest. Not like I am now.

I lift the laptop, bringing the screen closer to my face.

Volik stares back at me.

His eyes are… enthralling.

Vampires have black eyes.

Solid black.

No white. No iris. Just midnight orbs.

All vampires have them. It’s the immediate giveaway.

Well, that and the horns. And the fangs.

But Volik’s…

I lean forward until my nose is inches away from his.

Volik’s eyes aren’t the voids I always thought they were. They’re… galaxies.

Balancing my computer on one hand, I reach for the screen with the other and trace along his jaw, pretending I can feel the bristles of his trimmed beard, a slightly lighter shade of brown than his hair.

He’s… handsome. But not in an aristocratic way. He’s too… burly for that.

I know he’s old. But no one knows how old.

I have to imagine he’s stood out his whole life. Being so big… built like a freight train. Tall. Muscled… Serious.

In every photo I’ve seen, his expression is always so serious.

Even without the vampire aspect, he looks dangerous.