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When she does open her mouth, I know for sure. Her bright white fangs catch the light. At first, I’m transfixed. But then my fascination morphs back into fear.

I look at the door. I’ll never make it.

I look back at the vampire.

I have never seen one like her before. Despite all the talk and the whispers. Despite them being out in the open in so many other parts of the world. Here, in Cambridge, we like to pretend we don’t have the bad kind of supers; only the ones who hold respectable jobs and integrate nicely into human society.

Even then, their different nature is barely acknowledged or talked about.

We have been taught to recognize them, but we like to believe our vampires are more civilized than all the others.

Except they’re not; they’re just sneakier.

And this vampire – the one standing in front of me right now – she is not the civilized kind. She has blood lust in her eyes.

By her sides, her fingers twitch. They are splayed wide as if she is preparing for a fight.

“What’s in the box, little girl?” she asks, taking a long, deep breath and licking her lips.

The box. Of course, she’s here because of the box.

I should give it to her. Hand it over. Let her devour the parts of Steven I never want to see again. But something inside me feels indignant. They were a gift. To me. I finally own a piece of him, and I don’t want to let it go. Not so soon.

Even though a vampire eating what’s left of him would solve the issue of whether or not to tell the police.

She takes a step forward. Then the door jingles again. Another figure appears, and another, then a fourth.

They stand in line, predators waiting to circle their prey.

I reach for the box and toss it to the floor in front of them. I might want to own Steven, but I want to keep living, too. I’m not going to sacrifice myself for the want of feeling as if I’ve got one over on him.

The first vamp looks down at the box, then lets out a long dry laugh. “You think that’s what we want?”

“Isn’t it?” My voice comes out thready and frail, like it might crack completely and turn to dust.

“Not now we’ve seen what else is on offer.” The one nearest the door speaks. He is wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, not even close to enough clothing for how cold it is outside, and now draws closer to me.

My eyes move around the room. I have nothing to protect myself with. No crucifixes, or silver, or stakes, or garlic.

Not that garlic is a real thing. It’s a myth.

Perhaps the rest are, too.

“I’m not sure I’m as tasty as you think.” I tip my chin up and try to speak over the vicious pounding of my heart against my ribs. “I take pain meds. My blood will be bitter.” I wrinkle my nose. “I’m sure you’ve had far better.”

The man, who is now only a few feet away from me, blinks a few times then claps his hands. “Poor, sweet, human,” he says. “You just made yourself an even tastier treat. Skin like yours… so fragile, so ready to be broken. And drug-laced blood. What could be better?” He looks back at the vampires behind him. The one in the hoodie strides forward and elbows him out of the way.

She is on me before I even realize what is happening.

She has my arm. Her fingers tighten like a vice around my wrist.

“If every human in this city is as naive as you,” she says, “we are going to have our fill now the queen is gone and we’ve got a real boss in charge. One who understands the value of asserting our dominance on the pathetic, weak, blood-sacks of this city.”

“Queen?” I murmur.

She grins at me, licking her fangs. “Would you like me to start here…” She presses a finger to my wrist. “Or here?” She trails it up my arm to my neck, to where my pulse is growing faster by the second.

I cannot speak.