by Helen Bell
Get up and open the door. Push it, the voice said.
What the hell?
I leaped out of bed and spun in a circle to scan the room. No one was there.
Open the door, it said again.
Confused and hesitant, I stepped slowly toward the door. Okay, I had officially lost it. I shoved at the metal door with both of my hands, and it opened outward without resistance. Expecting it to be locked—as it had always been—I gasped in shock. How was that possible?
My initial impulse was to escape, to pass through and sprint out of here. My body, however, wouldn’t listen to me. It was as though someone else controlled it, and I moved out of the room without urgency, no matter how much I willed my feet to run. When I stepped outside the room, excitement trilled through me. Was this really happening? Uncertainty rolled over me as my hands trembled. I glanced around me. I was in a long all-white hallway with clean walls, polished tile floor, and bright lights above. Unlike the room I’d spent three weeks in, here it looked sterile. Along the hallway, many closed doors, also metal, occupied both sides of it. But there was none at the room next to mine, where the cries came from.
I was able to stop my feet at the entrance to that room. Inside, everything was like the one I had been in: toilet and sink in a corner, a bed sitting against a wall on the other side. In blue pants and a white T-shirt, a barefoot girl around my age inched closer and stood before the entrance. She was pale as a ghost, a bit taller than I was, with a delicate frame. She had long, wavy brown hair and … golden tears? My face twisted at the sight of what had to be an optical illusion. I leaned closer to her. No, it was not an optical illusion; my mind was not playing tricks on me. Shiny liquid slid from her blue eyes, leaving two trails of gold as it rolled down her cheeks.
“Your tears, they …” My voice faded away while I observed them.
Her face contorted with discomfort. “Something powerful is coming our way. Must be a royal.”
A royal? Who was she talking about? What was going on? As I struggled to make sense of all this, I also tried to figure out why she hadn’t escaped.
“There is nothing to hold you inside the room, so why aren’t you getting out?” I asked.
“I can’t. Magic is sealing me inside.”
I knit my brow. “Magic? You mean magic as in abracadabra magic?”
“As in witch magic.”
I blinked at her. Twice. I was not sure if she was serious. “I have no idea what’s going on, or what’s the deal with the gold tears, but—”
A sudden flood of something pleasant enveloped my body, and I felt a strong presence behind me.
Her eyes flitted over my shoulder. Shock appeared on her face. “Oberon,” she whispered in astonishment. My first instinct was to flip around, but she stopped me. “No! Don’t look back! Your human eyes … He’s The King of the Fae. You’ll die.”
The King of the Fae? My human eyes? Magic? Clearly, she’d slipped over the line between reality and fantasy, so I turned around anyway. Or tried. In mid-movement, I lost control over my body again, and it stopped moving.
Close your eyes, the voice I’d heard in my head earlier said.
“No,” I said, yet on their own volition, my eyes shut. When I attempted to open them, it was impossible.
A hand touched my shoulder, and the next thing I knew, cold air hit me and the sound of wind moving through tree branches reached my ears.
“I’ve teleported you far away from your captor. He cannot find you here. I must leave now,” the voice said outside my head, and then the pleasant sensation I’d felt vanished. I tried to jerk my eyes open and this time, I succeeded; my body was connected to my brain again.
With my mouth opened in disbelief, I scanned my new surroundings, the moonlight casting a soft light. In my hiking clothes again, I was in the middle of nowhere, standing alongside a long, narrow, deserted road. Bare tree trunks loomed on both sides of it. I pinched myself hard. Nope, I was not dreaming. Afraid yet calm, worried but excited, I took a deep breath while digesting the fact that I was out of that room. I may be going insane—or already there—but I didn’t care. I was free! And for now, it didn’t matter how it’d happened; what did matter was finding help.
At two a.m., my chances were slim. Still, I didn’t lose hope as I walked down the road, praying for a car to pass by. I’d been hiking for a while when a vehicle appeared in the distance.
I hopped up and down, waving my arms. “Help! Help! Please, help me!” The white sedan pulled up near me. Its headlights illuminated the road ahead. The driver’s door opened, and I did some more praying. Please, please, please, don’t let it be another psychopath, maniac, or lunatic.
Chapter 2
A girl stepped out of the car, and I sagged in relief, although women could be dangerous too.
“Are you okay?” she asked, a cell phone in her hand. “Do you need medical attention? Should I call nine-one-one or something?”
The tension drained out of me. Offering to involve the authorities was not something serial killers tended to do before murdering their victims, right?
“Yes, someone ki—” I clamped my mouth shut. I couldn’t reveal the truth; my family would be in danger. That man had warned me not to contact the cops if I ever escaped. Plus, I had no clue how I’d managed to break out. What would I say? The King of the Fae—or so I was told by someone with golden tears—rescued me?
Right. The whole thing was probably just a hallucination. A silly hallucination I did not feel like sharing.
I forced a smile. “I mean, thank you, but no. I’m fine. Just got stuck out here without a ride home.”
She stepped closer, and I got a better look at her. On her trim figure, she wore a skintight dress and black heels. She was about mid-twenties with dark brown skin, straight, honey-colored hair falling over her shoulders, and dark eyes. Her arms were crossed against the cold as her gaze roamed over me. Then she glanced right and left, as if looking for something, like a broken-down car on the side of the road.
“How did you end up here? Are you alone?” she asked. Her tone suggested that wandering alone on deserted roads wasn’t smart. Yeah, totally with you on that.
“I was with my boyfriend,” I lied. “We got into a huge fight while he was driving, and he stopped the car, demanding that I get out. And now, I just really need a ride.”
She gave me a what-an-asshole look. “He seriously left you out here all alone and drove off? Wow, way to treat your lady. Boyfriend of the year.”
“Tell me about it. He’s a complete ass, and I’m so done with him.”
“I say good riddance, hon.” A cold puff of wind disturbed her hair, and she rubbed her arms. “Look, I’m heading to New Haven. You can tag along if it helps you out, or you can use my cell and call someone to pick you up.”
New Haven? Okay, now I had a general idea where I was.
“I think I’ll tag along,” I said. “I have some friends in New Haven.” I didn’t, but it beat the alternative: being alone on a deserted road.
I climbed inside her warm car, and we took off. As we moved down the dark road, my teeth worked my bottom lip while I pulled a strand of hair out from behind my ear, fumbling nervously with it. What was I going to do when we arrived in New Haven? I had no money on me and nowhere to go. My sister went to college there, but since I didn’t want to risk her life, I couldn’t reach out to her, or my parents for that matter.
“—you with me? Helloooo?” A voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
“Sorry, what was that again?”
“I said you’re lucky. On my way home from my friend’s birthday party, I suddenly decided to change my regular route and took this one instead. Super strange, huh?”
“I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t. Thanks for the ride, by the way.”
She gave me an appraising glance before returning her eyes to the road. “You seem worried, scared. The boyfriend story was all bullshit, wasn’t it? How old are you? Eighteen? Nineteen
? Are you running away from someone? Don’t be afraid to tell me, hon. Maybe I can help.” I pondered what to say until she broke the long silence. “Or maybe the cops can. I think we should call—”
“No!” I panicked. “Don’t call them!”
At my reaction, a surprised expression appeared on her face. She glanced sidelong at me before returning her eyes to the road. “Why not?” Her voice held an edge of suspicion, and it was clear she thought I had done something bad and illegal. I couldn’t blame her. In her place, I would assume the worst too—and then call the cops.
Afraid she’d involve them, I decided to reveal what had really happened, praying she’d understand how important it was not to call the police. For the next fifty minutes, I recounted almost everything: the hiking, my dead roommate, my abduction, the hidden cameras in my house, my abductor’s threats, the red pills, even the tattoo on my palm. I left out the countdown, the faerie king, and the girl with the golden tears. After spending three weeks in solitary, it felt good to talk to someone. I hadn’t realized how much I craved human interaction until that moment.
I finished my story, and she shook her head slowly. “Wow, that’s really messed up. So your bat-shit crazy stalker, why did he give you the pills? Are you sick?”
“No. I have no idea what the capsules were for, but I was forced to take them every day,” I replied. “Now do you see why I can’t involve the police?”
“Yeah, of course, but what about distant relatives? Friends?” The car came to a halt at a red light. “Can’t you call and tell them what happened?”
“I prefer not to. I don’t know what that man is capable of. I don’t want to risk their lives,” I said and noticed we’d entered an urban area.
She stepped on the gas, and the car lurched forward. “So you have nowhere to go.”
“No, not at the moment, but I’ll manage.” I had to.
“You know what? Stay at my place for tonight. I’m just gonna make a quick call to my boyfriend, letting him know we have a guest. Don’t worry about your family’s safety, he won’t involve the police either.” With one hand on the steering wheel, she pulled her phone out of her purse and tapped the screen, then pressed it to her ear.
“Thank you, really, but it’s”—I checked my wristwatch—“five to three in the morning. I don’t want to impose myself on you.”
“Nonsense. You are not sleeping on the streets. It’s dangerous and cold—Oh, hey babe … Yeah, it was okay … No, no, everything’s fine, just calling ’cause I need you to make up the guest room … I’ll explain when I get home. See you in a bit. Love you too.” She hung up and put the phone in her lap. Her attention returned to me. “I bet you’re tired after all that crazy shit you went through. Get a good night’s sleep, and tomorrow you figure out what to do.”
Her generous offer instilled a deep sense of relief in me. Yeah, she was a stranger, but spending the night with a bunch of homeless people sounded even less safe.
“I really appreciate what you’re doing. You don’t even know me,” I said.
“That’s right, so let’s start with your name. What do I call you?”
“I’m Sydney.”
She flicked on the turn signal and made a right onto a side road. “I’m Tess. In a few minutes, we’ll be at my place.”
“Great.”
After a few sets of traffic lights and some more turns, she slowed down and parked in front of an apartment complex. Tess’s apartment was on the sixth floor. She unlocked the front door, and we stepped into a medium-sized living room with three large windows, all the blinds closed.
“Daryl, babe? I’m home,” Tess called out, closing the door behind us and kicking her heels off.
Someone, Daryl I presumed, walked into the living room. Tall and muscular, he sported pajama pants and a long-sleeved shirt. His skin was bronze and visibly flawless—smooth, clear, and unbroken. He took a few steps toward us before jolting to a stop.
He scrunched up his face, his hand flying to his nose. “God, Tess, she reeks.”
Tess seemed embarrassed by her boyfriend’s rude behavior. “Babe, she went through a great ordeal; she was kept in a dirty room—”
He fanned a hand in front of his face as if I hadn’t had a shower in a year. “It’s not that. She … God, it stinks. Oh, wow, it’s awful.”
Okay, dude, we get it. I stink. Next time a psychopath kidnaps me, I’ll be sure to demand a five-star dungeon with a hot tub and expensive toiletries. I sniffed myself. I didn’t smell like roses, but I didn’t reek either. What was his problem?
After a short moment, Tess’s expression lit with dawning realization. “Oh, that kind of stink.” Her gaze moved to me. “You’d better sit down for this.” Judging by the way both of them looked at me, it sounded serious.
Bewildered, I took a seat on the couch. “What’s going on?”
Tess sat next to me, and her boyfriend dropped the bomb. “You have cancer, final stage. The BFB in your blood is wearing off. That’s why I can smell the disease, but quite frankly, in this advanced stage of cancer, even a Newborn vampire would be able to smell it.”
Tess’s eyes grew wide, and her mouth opened in an unexpressed gasp as if he had just let a big secret slip. “Daryl! What did you do? I was about to break the bad news to her and then tell her not to ask us how we know she’s sick. She has no idea about the existence of vampires. Or you being one!”
“She doesn’t? Then how did she obtain BFB?”
I stared at them while Tess filled him in on everything I’d endured. As I watched them, a burst of humorless laughter bubbled up my throat. Unbelievable! I had the worst luck ever. I broke free from one psychopath only to end up with two lunatics.
Tess threw her arms in the air. “See what you’ve done? Now she thinks we’re nutcases.” She sighed. “Show her we’re not.”
To her request, Daryl opened his mouth, and fangs flicked into sight. Two gleaming, actual fangs! I shrank back, my stomach flipping over. Sweet baby Jesus!
“Vampires are real,” she told me.
The logical part of my brain refused to accept what was in front of my eyes. It just flew in the face of logic. Unlike my sister Zoey, who was a year younger than me, I’d never believed in the supernatural. In fact, when we were little, I always made fun of her fertile imagination. I remembered how one day, when she was twelve, she came into my room before bedtime with excitement in her blue eyes. I placed the book I’d been reading in bed aside.
“What’s up?” I’d asked her.
“At school today, I think I saw—don’t laugh, okay?” she’d warned. Intrigued, I nodded, and she continued, “I saw a fae. Sydney, she was so beautiful, standing in the courtyard with a white dress and purple gossamer wings, invisible to everyone but me.” She tied her chocolate-brown hair into a ponytail.
I couldn’t help but titter at her active imagination. “Ooh, was the boogeyman with her?”
Her hands balled into fists at her sides, and her face flushed as she clenched her teeth together. “You promised!” She stomped toward the door, and before leaving, she tossed over her shoulder, “That’s the last time I share my secrets with you.”
It wasn’t, though. Up until her senior year in high school, she’d kept telling me stories about the fae she had seen. Zoey had even claimed that the new girl in her class was a vampire. I’d always thought Zoey made up things because she loved to live in her own magical world. I, on the other hand, preferred to stick to the real world, where fae and vampires didn’t exist.
Until now.
Chapter 3
How could I argue with my own eyes? Although it defied any logical thought, I had to accept the truth. In that all-white hallway, I hadn’t been dreaming, and I hadn’t been hallucinating. And in this moment, I wasn’t looking at a human being. Daryl was—in actual fact—a vampire.
I swallowed hard as my eyes flitted to the front door.
“Don’t be scared. I’m human, and Daryl won’t rip your throat out or any
thing.” Tess tried to calm me down while her boyfriend’s knife-sharp fangs drove back up into his gums. He walked to the recliner in front of Tess and me and sank into it, pinching his nostrils. The room fell quiet. He was a freaking vampire, but if he wanted to hurt me, wouldn’t he have done so already?
My muscles eased as I leaned against the back of the couch. “You’re wrong; I can’t have cancer. For one, I don’t feel sick. Tired? Yes. Starving? Yes. Creeped out? Definitely. But sick? No. Secondly, my mother is a nurse. I think she would’ve noticed if I was dying from cancer. And what is BFB?”
“The thing that keeps you alive right now, and the reason you don’t have symptoms,” he answered.
At my questioning look, Tess explained, “Do you remember you said your stalker forced you to take red pills?” I nodded. “They could have been BFB.”
“They most likely were, and the smell of your decaying body is a good indicator that it’s wearing off,” Daryl said.
Tess’s eyes shifted from him to me. “When was the last time you took it?”
“Yesterday morning, at seven.” My voice wobbled. Was I really dying? No, it was impossible. They were mistaken. “I know I was healthy before he kidnapped me. So what, suddenly I have final stage cancer? And what kind of medicine is BFB, anyway?”
“BFB is an initialism for Blood for Breakfast,” Tess replied.
My stomach heaved. “Whoa, blood? Are you telling me that for the past three weeks I’ve been consuming blood?”
Tess nodded. “BFB pills contain the blood of vampires in the third stage of their existence.”
“Third stage of their existence?” I repeated, feeling like barfing.
Daryl rose to his feet and stepped to a love seat situated farther away from me. Seeming to breathe more comfortably, he moved his hand from his nose.
“When my kind is born,” he began, “we’re basically humans with the same anatomy and characteristics. In this phase, we’re referred to as Daywalkers. The sun doesn’t hurt us, and we eat, sleep, breathe, and look just like humans. Then, somewhere between the ages of sixteen and thirty-five, something called the Change occurs. There are no physical signs prior to an impending Change. Or known triggers that would cause it to happen. A Daywalker between sixteen and thirty-five can wake up one morning, and all of his or her human functions stop. It’s a process that takes about twelve hours, turning the Daywalker into an immortal who doesn’t need oxygen or a beating heart to exist. A vampire.”
