Page 53 of Nosfer-Meet You

I manage a small smile at the bear. “Yes, thank you for your hospitality.”

Rob nods, then turns back toward the television mounted on the wall. “See you two around,” he says.

That’s that, I guess. We are officially residents of Pinecrest Hills—in exchange for a little bit of labor.

A week later, Scotty and I are at the foot of the cliffs in the middle of a torrential rainstorm. The wind’s howls are deafening, and we must rely on our other senses to communicate. Since our arrival, we have only managed to slay one harpy out of dozens. The creatures are maddening, with their sharp teeth and even sharper claws. And their feathers … ugh. Their feathers smell of damp leaves and decaying corpses.

My bones crunch against the howling wind, and Scotty watches as I turn into my ghastly bat shape for the third time this week.

“I don’t know if we should bother,” he yells over the storm. The rain makes his hair stick to his face and get in his eyes. “This storm is too dangerous, love.”

He’s right. The storm is too dangerous. But the werebears are already growing impatient with us. Clearly, they expected us to wipe out the harpy nests within a couple of days of our arrival. It took a lot out of me, performing the sanctuary blood ritual in the motel room, and I would prefer not to have to do it again so soon. We need that room.

I bite my lower lip as I pump my wings, flexing them. “Then go back to the room and wait for me!” I yell back. “You don’t need to be out here!”

Scotty shakes his head. “I won’t leave you!”

“They can’t hurt me!”

It’s true. They cannot. As nasty as they are, the harpies are as dangerous as mice to me. Yes, they may bite, and it stings when they do, but they cannot kill me. Besides, the weather reporter predicted heavy rain and wind for the next week, and I am sure our hosts won’t simply give us the time off to wait for better hunting weather. No, this needs to be done now.

“I’ll wait for you down here,” he calls out, and I nod before taking to the air.

The harpies dislike rain as much as we do, and have taken to roosting within their cliffside caves this evening. When I let out a powerful screech to alert them of my presence, several harpies fly out of their hovels to attack me in the air. They snatch at me with their claws, and I grab on to them with mine, then throw them down into the dirt below. Lying in wait, Scotty descends on one of the harpies immediately, ripping out its throat.

We make a good team. But that isn’t surprising, considering what we did to the Helsings. I throw more harpies into the ground below until none remain. If there are other harpies remaining, they are wisely avoiding a confrontation. They know I won’t venture inside their caves to find them, so why they are stupid enough to engage me out here, I’ll never understand. Merde, they are stupid creatures.

I’m about to head back down to where Scotty is waiting when I hear the beating of wings behind me. Blinking, I turn around to look, but I’m too slow. Enormous black claws grab me by my wings, and my captor flies off to the tops of the cliffs.

I let out a terrified screech, and Scotty cries out for me down below. “Juliette!” I hear him yell.

“Enculé! Let me go!” I cry, but the monstrosity holds me fast.

When we finally land, whatever is holding me doesn’t release me right away. I whimper as I try to free my wings from the creature’s talons. Though my night vision is excellent, it’s as though I’m being held by the void itself. The swath of darkness lets out a familiar-sounding chuckle, and my entire body freezes.

“I told you that I’d always find you, little dove,” he says in his thick accent. The one I could never place. I’d ask every week, yet he never told me…

“Dante,” I breathe, still unable to move, too paralyzed by the shock.

“So, she does remember me after all,” he says, finally releasing my wings. I fold them back into myself as he shrinks down to his vampire form. But I do not do the same. He cracks his neck from side to side as the last of his bones slide back into place, and then he smiles. I can see his pearly white fangs in the darkness. “Did you miss me?”

How can I even answer that question? I’m not even sure what he’s doing here right now. Up until seconds ago, I thought he was dead for centuries.

“You’re speechless,” he says, and takes a step forward. I step back, nearly stumbling on a rock. “Brings back memories. Remember when you couldn’t speak? The fire destroyed your throat, but I fixed you. I brought you back from the brink. Do you not remember, Juliette?”

“That was Selene’s blood,” I say, and inwardly curse myself. How could those be the first words spoken to my maker in centuries?

He shakes his head, and a malicious sneer spreads across his lips. “And Selene was turned by me. By extension, it was I who healed you. And it was I who saved you. And yet…”

I beat my wings, wanting to fly away … but blood weeps from my flesh. I can’t fly. He made sure of it. Putain!

No matter how much time has passed between us, Dante always has the upper hand. Always. I curse myself, and then him.

“You’re ungrateful,” he says, his smile disappearing. “You betrayed me. You betrayed your sister! Now she and the rest of our household are dead.”

Good. As they should be. Selene was a monster who force fed me for years. And the other servants were just as complicit in my torture, so they can burn in Hell, too, for all I care.

“I did nothing,” I hiss.