I step out of the car, one foot touching the cracked pavement outside my apartment complex, when Achilles finally speaks for the first time since we left the estate. His voice slices through the silence, low and deliberate.
"You're not going to be here for long."
The words pull me back into the car, even though my body is already halfway out. I grip the door handle and look at him, confusion etched across my face. "What do you mean by that?"
He shrugs, leaning back slightly in his seat as though he just made an offhand comment about the weather. "There's been nothing like you."
"What does that even mean?" I press, stepping fully out of the car now, one hand gripping the edge of the door.
But he doesn't answer. He simply smiles, and annoying cryptic smile, and pulls away, the sleek black car disappearing down the street before I can demand anything further.
I stare after him for a moment, his words swirling in my mind. "There's been nothing like you."
What does that even mean? Is it some kind of Vampire riddle? Or was he just messing with me? Either way, I don't have the energy to decode it right now.
I tuck the thought away in a box labelled 'later' in my head and turn towards my apartment building.
I hadn't thought about my absence, but now that I do, I wonder how Ellie would react when she sees me.
Achilles mentioned that I had been out cold for a day and half. That means I have been missing for a day and half... technically.
Did she call the police?
I mean, she would. It's very unlike me to leave without a message for that long.
I shake the thoughts away, heading into the building. There are too many things to be thought about, but right now, what I need is something to drink.
As I head up the stairs to my apartment, the familiar sound of nails clicking against the concrete steps catches my attention.
Buttercup.
The little terrier mix is my neighbor's dog. Buttercup always wanders out of her owner's apartment—a habit I've seen a hundred times before.
Normally, she'd trot over to me, tail wagging, and I'd scoop her up and take her back to her elderly owner, Mrs. Saunders.
But today isn't normal.
The dog stops mid-step, her dark eyes locking on me. There's no happy tail wag, no friendly bark. Instead, she freezes, her small body stiffening. Then, she growls.
It's low at first, just a warning, but it rises quickly into an aggressive bark. My throat burns fiercely.
I can hear her heart racing, the rhythmic thump of blood pumping through her tiny veins. It's deafening. I swallow hard, clutching the railing.
"Come on Buttercup, don't be like that," I murmur.
My voice cracks, and my fangs elongate before I even realize what's happening.
She barks louder, backing up a step.
"Shhh, stop," I whisper, but it's too late. The hunger takes over, and I lunge.
Her yelp is sharp, piercing, but it fades quickly as I sink my teeth into her neck. The warm, metallic taste floods my mouth, and I drink deeply.
It feels like nothing can taste better.
Her tiny body twitches, her heartbeat slowing until it's gone altogether.
I drop her limp form onto the steps, horrified at myself but too ashamed to stop and process it.
I wipe my mouth hastily with the back of my hand and continue up the stairs, shame sitting heavy in my chest.
At the top of the stairs, Mrs. Saunders is standing in the hallway. She smiles at me, oblivious to what I've just done. "Oh, North! Have you seen Buttercup? She wandered off again."
Panic floods through me. I can't let her go down there and find her dog like that. "Uh… yeah," I stammer. "I think I saw her run down to the first floor. She was headed toward the back lot."
"Oh dear," Mrs. Saunders mutters, already turning to head downstairs. "Thank you, sweetie."
I watch her go, guilt clawing at my insides. My feet carry me the rest of the way to my apartment door, and I ring the bell.
It swings open after the second ring and Ellie stands there, her face lighting up in relief.
"North!" She pulls me into a tight hug, the familiar lavender scent wrapping around me like a blanket.
The burn in my throat flares up again, stronger this time. I can feel her pulse against my skin, and my fangs threaten to elongate once more.
I shove her away, harder than I mean to. "I need water," I blurt out, rushing past her to the kitchen.
She follows me, confusion and concern written all over her face. "North, where have you been? I've been calling and texting you for the past day and a half! I was worried sick!"
I grab a glass from the cabinet, fill it with water, and gulp it down in one go. It doesn't help much, but it's enough to make my fangs retract.
"I'm fine," I mutter, turning away from her.
"Fine?" She repeats, incredulous. "You've been gone for over a day, and you show up looking like you haven't slept in weeks! What the hell is going on?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Well, too bad, because I do! North, you don't just disappear like that! I thought you were—"
"I said I don't want to talk about it!" I snap, slamming the glass down onto the counter. The sharp sound echoes in the small kitchen, and she flinches.
Silence hangs between us, heavy and suffocating.
She crosses her arms, her expression hurt but defiant. "You're acting weird and I don't know what's going on with you, but I'm not just going to stand here and pretend like everything's fine when it's not."
Her words cut deeper than I care to admit. I feel the anger bubbling up again, threatening to spill over.
"I've had a long night," I say through gritted teeth. "I just want to go to bed. Is that too much to ask?"
She stares at me for a moment, her eyes searching mine for something—an explanation, maybe, or an apology. When she doesn't find it, she sighs and steps aside. "Fine. Go."
I don't wait for her to change her mind. I storm off to my room, slamming the door behind me.
Once inside, I slide down to the floor, my back against the door and my knees pulled to my chest.
The events of the day replay in my mind, vivid and horrifying. The sound of Buttercup's heartbeat.
The warmth of her blood. The way her body went limp in my hands.
A single thought pushes through the chaos in my head, clear and undeniable.
"I just killed a dog."