Page 43 of Nosfer-Meet You

Without warning, Sapphire spins around and aims right for Ava’s unconscious body. A roar crawls up my throat, and I rush forward to knock Sapphire over. But it’s too late. The bolt enters Ava’s rib cage and—and⁠—

I watch as my coven sister turns to gray ash right before my very eyes. My centuries-old friend. Bested by some vodka and a stripper with a crossbow.

The rage becomes all-consuming, and I round on Sapphire to knock her to the ground. Her crossbow falls out of her hands, and she lets out a scream. Good. She should be afraid. Because what I’m about to do to her now? It’s not going to be a quick death like she just gave Ava.

But as I’m about to pounce on Sapphire, another crossbow bolt whizzes past my face, just missing me.

“What the fuck—” I start, and turn to find several Helsings in uniform standing there, their crossbows trained on me. Shit. This is not good. The screaming downstairs becomes overwhelming; my head throbs in agony. I make a run for the stairs, leaving Ava’s ashes behind.

Several more crossbow bolts zip past my ears. How I manage to evade them all, I’ll never know, but I make it down the stairs to find heaps of ashes everywhere, along with several human corpses. Their blood stains the concrete floor, and the vamps who remain are sent into a bloodlust. They lunge for the Helsings only to catch bolts in their chests and burst into ash. I cough on the dust of my fallen kin.

Harriett. I need to find my sister.

“Freckles!” I scream as I race through the club, pushing aside the surviving humans who are now in panic mode and stampeding. This is bad. A Helsing jumps on top of the bar and yells something incoherent into the crowd, then fires another crossbow bolt, killing a vampire instantly. More dust explodes in the air until it looks like someone went nuts with the fog machine.

And then I spot her. Harriett huddles in the booth where I left her, the frat boys she was with bleeding out on the ground a few feet away. I race for Harriett only to get knocked over by a human bouncer. It feels like I just got hit by a linebacker. The ground rises to meet me. My vision goes blurry, and for a few seconds, I’m afraid I’ll black out. But then Harriett’s screams pull me back to the present, and I jump to my feet.

I rush to the booth and grab her by the arm, pulling her into my chest. “I’ve got you,” I pant. “I’ve got you. Come on.”

“Where’s Marcus? And Ava?” she yells over the screams. “Where’s Eli?!”

I swallow down the lump in my throat and shake my head. “I don’t know,” I say, and pull her toward the backdoor leading to the kitchen. “We can find them later. We need to get out of here first.”

The kitchens are filled with more dead humans, and their blood coats the tiles, making it almost impossible to get through the room without slipping. Realizing the danger, I scoop Harriett into my arms and carry her to the back door, then bash against it with my side until it opens.

Once we’re in the back alleyway, I set her down in front of me and look her over. I run my hands across her head, searching for any signs of injury. “Are you hurt?”

Harriett shakes her head. “N-No, but … I’m so sorry, Scotty.”

Blood trickles down her cheeks in thick rivulets. I grab her by the shoulders and squeeze. “Hey. Hey, why are you sorry? What are you sorry for?” I ask.

Her body trembles. Gods, she’s so small. Just a teenager. There’s no reason she should have been here, tonight. This is all my fault. I should have grabbed her and taken her home when I had a chance. Now everything is all fucked up. Ava is dead, and who knows where Marcus even is? I know Eli is fine. No one can kill him.

Hariett sobs quietly, and I crush her against my chest in an embrace. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” I murmur. “Nothing, you hear me?”

“It’s my fault, I should have listened to you,” she sobs against my chest. “I should have stayed home and watched the ball drop with you, like we always do … this was such a stupid idea.”

I kiss the top of my sister’s head. “No, Freckles. No … none of this is your fault. You couldn’t have known.”

Harriett lifts her face, opens her mouth to speak—and then the sound of a bolt slices through the air. I try to jerk us aside, but it’s too late. My sister’s eyes widen as the bolt hits its mark.

Her chest. The wooden bolt sticks halfway out of her back like a stake.

No. No, this can’t be happening. This isn’t happening. We’re back home in my apartment, watching Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Years Eve. We’re laughing and cuddling and draining blood bags and playing Scrabble to pass the time. This alleyway? It doesn’t exist. This timeline? Doesn’t exist.

“Scotty—” she rasps … just before exploding into a heap of ash.

My entire world falls apart.

I don’t even remember anything after Harriett’s death. The Helsing who shot her lasted all of five seconds before their neck was snapped, of course. And then I woke up the next evening with stomach cramps. I spent all of New Year’s Day vomiting blood. Blood from the Helsings I tore apart and drank. I’d never over-indulged before, and I learned the hard way what happens when a vampire drinks too much blood. It comes back out, one way or another.

The news called it the New Year’s Eve Vampire Massacre.

A targeted raid on vampires, thanks to the Helsings who were sent there by the mayor. Their main target? Elias.

He was captured and killed, along with Marcus. My brother. My father figure. My entire family gone thanks to a new initiative from the mayor. The goal? To eradicate all vampire kind. Thanks to internet message boards and the dark web, it was shockingly easy for the Helsings to share information with one another. Sapphire, who was an undercover Helsing all along, exploited Marcus and Ava’s carelessness and managed to learn everything they needed about Elias and his synthetic blood.

Instead of being supportive of the idea, the mayor ordered our executions.