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I slip into my car and drive back to my home. Once inside, I open the door leading to the basement, pausing to listen to the muffled whimpers of my prey. Delightful.
Making my way down the wooden steps, I flick on the lights as I pass, pausing when I reach the stone floor. It’s dank down here. Perfect for torture and murder.
Dan Reynolds hangs by his feet from the rafters, his blood slowly draining from his body. I slashed his throat with my nail just before I left for the press conference a few hours ago, but the bastard is still hanging on.
I step in front of him, bending down to make eye contact. He struggles against his bonds, his voice muffled. Reaching forward, I pull the gag from his mouth.
“Hello, Dan. How are you feeling? Weak, I would imagine.”
“You sick fuck. Let me go.”
Chuckling, I step back. “I’m afraid that isn’t going to happen. Remember when I tasted your blood earlier?”
Dan blanches. “Are you a fucking cannibal?”
“On the contrary. You have no idea why this is happening to you. You think it’s random. That I chose you for no reason at all. Am I right?”
Dan squirms, saying nothing.
“But you know what kind of man you are, Dan. You know the things you do when no one is looking. You know the torment you cause your family. You hurt them, Dan. What did they do to deserve your abuse?”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, but I do.” I bend down and drag my finger through the pool of Dan’s blood collecting in the bucket beneath him. “See, when I taste your blood, I see your sins.” Closing my eyes, I allow the images to flash in my mind. “I see the way you hit your wife. The violence you inflict on your stepson.” I shiver as the next image comes through. “Oh, Dan. Not your assistant. You touched her without her consent. You know you are not a good man.”
“I can be better,” he tries, his voice desperate and fearful. “I can. I can go to therapy and stop drinking.”
“Yes, you could have done those things, but I’m afraid your time is up.”
“They’ll know if you kill me. I have a business here. My family will look for me.”
I chuckle, standing up again. “Do you really think I don’t know how to cover my tracks?” I straighten the cuff of my sleeve, a habit I learned can be either elegant or distressing depending on the event. “By tonight, you will be drained. Your body will be discovered on the riverbank, lying in a pool of your own blood, a knife in your hand, and a suicide note nearby confessing all your sins. The community will rally around your widow and her son. Your business will be run by your chief financial officer. Your poor assistant will get a raise. Your absence will not be mourned. It will be celebrated. Neubrook will be a better place without you.”
I kneel again. “I’m a vampire.” I push the gag back into his mouth as he struggles against his bonds, his eyes wide with panic. “You’re a bully, Dan, and I hate bullies.”
With that, I walk upstairs, turning the lights off and shutting the door. Sinking into my favorite armchair by the fireplace, I pour myself a glass of blood-infused wine. A portion of Dan’s blood will go into future bottles, his memories washed away by his death and the alcohol, leaving only the essence I need to survive. I should work on his suicide note, mimicking his handwriting while his blood lingers on my lips, but I have time. So much time.
A satisfied smile settles on my lips. My plans are in place. Before long, I’ll have everything I’ve ever wanted. Well, almost everything. Someday, I’ll focus on finding love. Right now, there is work to be done.
ChapterThree
ELI
One year after Michel’s return to Neubrook.
I pull up to a place I used to spend most of my afternoons at. The Smiley Diner. The huge lit sign with the smiling face emoji on it stands like a beacon after all these years, welcoming me back home. It looks newer than it was, the smiley more updated than the simple, painted-on yellow one from before. I wonder if Mr. and Mrs. Smiley still own it.
It feels like a million years have passed since I’ve been here, when really, it’s only been a little over ten. I never expected to return, especially after it fell on hard times a few years back, but the comforting feeling of belonging spreading through me right now is too strong to ignore. Like it or not, Neubrook is home.
Shutting off the car, I sit for a second. Next door to the diner, where an empty parking lot was the last time I visited my parents, is a park with benches and a small pond in the center. Nice.
Finally getting out of the car, I walk toward the diner, my chest filling with nostalgia. The football team came here after practice a lot to have milkshakes and talk to the cheerleaders. Those were good times, but nothing like the Sunday mornings with Michel. I remember his big brown eyes with green flecks you could see when the sun hit them just right. Sometimes, when deep in thought, he would bite his bottom lip and push his glasses up his nose. He wasn’t conventionally attractive, but there was something so pure and sweet about him, I had a hard time looking away.
Those mornings with Michel, discussing homework and plans for the future, the times we walked home from school together, the sleepovers watchingDoctor Whomarathons, those were my best memories from high school. Not winning football games or hanging with the popular kids. Just Michel.
I wonder what he’s up to these days. Knowing him, he probably heads some huge tech company where his genius is changing the world. I’d be so embarrassed to tell him none of my dreams came true. Just like my parents predicted, I burned out and ended up right back where I started.
The bell above the door jingles like it always did, and a few people I don’t recognize turn in my direction. A woman behind the counter looks up from filling a sugar container, and tilts her head.
