Morning came, but I wasn't ready to face it. The mark on my neck had faded slightly but still remained, a quiet reminder of the chaos I'd stumbled into. I stayed in my dorm most of the morning, pacing the small space, replaying last night's events over and over again.
By noon, I couldn't take it anymore. I had questions, and I wasn't going to find the answers here.
The library felt like the only place I might figure things out. It was where this all started, after all. With shaky hands, I grabbed my bag and headed out, trying to convince myself that I was being rational, not reckless.
The library was quieter than usual when I arrived. A few students sat scattered among the tables, noses buried in their books. The familiar scent of old pages and polished wood greeted me as I stepped inside. I couldn't help but glance around nervously, half-expecting someone—or something—to be waiting for me.
I made my way back to the same section where I had first found the book. My footsteps echoed faintly against the marble floor, but when I turned the corner, I froze.
He was there.
The man from last night stood at the end of the aisle, his back to me as he scanned the shelves.
"Looking for something?" His voice was calm but sharp, and he didn't bother turning around.
I gripped the strap of my bag tighter. "What are you doing here?"
He turned then, his dark eyes locking onto mine. There was something unsettling about the way he looked at me—like he already knew every thought running through my head.
"You came back," he said, as if it were a surprise.
"I don't know what's going on, but I need answers," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady.
He studied me for a moment before stepping closer. I instinctively stepped back, but the narrow aisle left me with nowhere to go.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, his tone low. "Not after what happened last night."
"What do you mean? You were there. You saw what happened!"
"I also told you to stay away."
I felt my frustration boiling over. "You can't just show up, throw out vague warnings, and expect me to stay in the dark. What's going on? What is this mark?"
At the mention of the mark, his expression shifted. For a split second, I thought I saw something like regret, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
"My name is Dorian," he said finally. "And that mark on your neck? It's a beacon."
"A beacon for what?"
"For them," he said simply.
"Them who?" I demanded.
"Vampires."
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. When it didn't come, I let out a sharp laugh. "You can't be serious."
"You think this is a joke?" His voice hardened, and he took another step closer. "You've seen the shadows, felt their presence. That mark ties you to something they've been hunting for centuries."
"The book?"
Dorian nodded. "It's more than just a book. It holds power—power they want. And now, thanks to your curiosity, you've put yourself directly in their path."
My head spun as I tried to process his words. Vampires? Centuries-old hunts? It sounded like something out of a bad horror movie.
"If this is so dangerous, why didn't you stop me?" I snapped.
"I tried," he said, his voice cold. "But you didn't listen."
I opened my mouth to argue but stopped. He was right. I had ignored every warning, and now I was paying the price.
"So what do I do now?" I asked, my voice quieter.
"You need to stay alive," Dorian said bluntly. "They'll come for you, and when they do, you won't stand a chance on your own."
"What do you mean 'on my own'? Are you saying you'll help me?"
His lips curved into a faint smirk. "Let's just say our interests align…for now."
I didn't trust him—not entirely—but what choice did I have? He was the only one who seemed to know what was happening, and if what he said was true, I couldn't afford to face this alone.
"What happens now?" I asked.
"Now, we prepare," Dorian said. "Meet me at the park on Willow Street. Midnight. Don't be late."
Before I could respond, he turned and walked away, disappearing around the corner.
---
The hours until midnight felt like an eternity. I spent most of the day going over what Dorian had said, trying to piece together some kind of plan. But the more I thought about it, the less sense it made.
When the clock struck 11:30, I grabbed my jacket and headed out. The streets were quiet, the kind of quiet that made every little sound feel amplified.
When I reached the park, it was nearly empty. A single streetlamp cast a faint glow over the benches, its light barely cutting through the shadows.
"Right on time," Dorian said, stepping out from behind a tree.
I jumped, my heart racing. "Do you always sneak up on people like that?"
"Only when I need to," he said, his tone unreadable.
"What now?" I asked, crossing my arms.
"Now," he said, "we see what you're made of."
He stepped closer, his movements quick but controlled. I instinctively stepped back, but he closed the gap between us in an instant.
"Hey!" I protested, but he ignored me.
"Lesson one," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Don't trust anyone—not even me."
Before I could respond, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me forward. His strength was startling, but it wasn't the same as the cold, suffocating presence I'd felt last night.
"What are you doing?" I demanded, trying to pull away.
"Teaching you," he said simply.