Page 15 of Pucking Vamps

Which is how I get lost.

“Well, fuck me.”

I pause at an intersection of corridors. To the left is a dark hall with flickering lights. To the right is a dark hall with no lights. Straight ahead is a door with keycard-controlled entry. I peek left, shudder, then I peek right and shiver. I’ve watched enough horror movies to know that you don’t go to unlit places unless you are into ghosts, zombies, aliens, demons and the like.

Which leaves the door as my only option. I do remember passing one or two, but they were open, so I have no idea if this was one of them.

If it was, why is it closed now?

Great question. I guess another student closed it… Yeah, that sounds about right. Someone else who got kicked out of their apartment and needed somewhere to crash must also be roaming the creepy underground floor.

I produce my student ID and wave it, the scanner beeping in an error.

“Are you shitting me?”

Trying again results in the same. I stare at it, as if that would will it to work, but two more attempts later, I’m starting to really regret not paying attention to my surroundings. In a sudden bout of intellect, I try the door itself, pushing the heavy wood with my hand. It’s unlocked and opens.

A sigh of relief rips out of me. I’m convinced this is the way out as my eyes scan the doors lined up along both walls and notice the sign that reads stairs. Maybe I didn’t come this way or maybe I did, but in any case, I can get out of here without having to contact reception to explain that I got lost like the biggest idiot in the world.

Carding a hand through my hair to tuck it away from my forehead, I jog over to the door with the stairs sign and slip out.

Everyone has one of those days when it feels like the entire world is against them. Well, today is mine, because, the stairs? They only lead further down. Which is strange. Very strange. I wasn’t aware there was another sublevel… but then again, I don’t exactly follow what the college renovations are, so it could be that I simply missed that part.

Just as I am about to turn back and look for another way up, I hear a noise. My fingers freeze around the door handle and my ears perk up, trying to identify the source of the sound.

It’s voices. They are muffled, but they are definitely there, whispering in the eerie gloom like conspiring ghosts. Obviously, there is nothing ghostly about them; I bet they are other students or maybe staff.

I go over to the railing and pop my head out, squinting at the darkness below me. It’s not absolute, so I can see the outline of the stairs, which go only three floors down. At the very bottom, a bit of light interrupts the otherwise uniform blackness, sneaking under what must be a door that I can’t see from here.

Curiosity mixes in with the slight fear that’s coursing through me. Logically, I know that I am being silly—this is a library in the real world, not a horror movie scenario—but it’s one of those things that you just can’t help when you find yourself in a situation like this. It’s a natural response, an instinctual reflex, to the unknown. To being alone in a dark place in the middle of the night when everything is possible. And part of me finds that exciting.

I bite on my lip, giving my dick a stroke through my shorts. I blame Leander. His mysterious aura kind of had the same effect on me. I’m positive he unlocked something in me—or broke me—and my body’s been hot all day. He was so sexy earlier in his prim and proper teacher mode, those gem-like green eyes the most intense pair I’ve ever seen.

Just thinking about them as I head down the stairs makes me shiver in delight. I want to feel them roaming my naked body again, to have them look at me with single-minded focus. To smile at me and devour me.

My cock jerks, very onboard with the scenarios I am playing out in my mind. When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I pause, focusing instead on the voices. They are still whispering, scratchy and hoarse as they hum words I can’t understand. Golden light seeps out into the stairwell from under an ancient-looking door with a metal ring for a handle. The frame is engraved with runes and swirly patterns that glow a soft red.

My heart gallops in my chest, goosebumps erupting all over my arms. This is freaky. Please don’t tell me there is some secret college cult and I just stumbled upon their secret meeting spot. I pull on my lip, cutting off a snort. I bet Park’s parents would be part of it along with all the other rich donors.

The voodoo-like humming intensifies, draining the smile off my face. It surrounds me like a living mist, its vaporous fingers dragging along my exposed skin. Oh boy, I should leg it. Whatever secret orgies are happening on the other side of that door, I want no part in them.

Except that, evidently, I do, as instead of going back the way I came and pretending I didn’t discover a potentially scandalous secret, I reach for the fancy door’s metal hoop handle thingy.

It’s heavy, just like the panting breaths leaving me. My fingers are clammy, and my knees feel a little weak. I’m shaking, both from excitement and fear. Sweat rolls down my face as my heart pounds in my ears and drowns out the strange humming. I ready my phone in video mode.

Shit. I’m doing this. Whatever is taking place on the other side is my golden ticket. I’m 99% sure. I’ve never done blackmail, but I’m a quick learner. I’ll get rich off this, I can practically taste the money. If whoever is in there wants their very secret secrets not to get out, they will have to pay me off. Depending on what I discover, I’m looking at anything from ten grand to a million.

Slowly and very gently, I pull on the metal handle. The door gives with a dying man’s croak that reverberates through me and freezes my blood. Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit, did they hear me? There is no way they didn’t.

But the humming continues as if I didn’t just ring an industrial-grade alarm to announce my infiltration. I still, listening carefully for any interruption to the strange chanting. Yep, that’s what it is—chanting. Out of all the scenarios I pictured, demon summoning or human sacrifice or some weird animal masks orgy seems the likeliest now.

Oh, please be the orgy.

I linger for a couple more minutes at the door, not daring to move a muscle. Once my heart is not threatening to jump out of my chest, I push a little further, thanking the universe there are no more howling whale sounds. Then I slip inside.

I’m in a stone corridor with sconces. Like actual, medieval-looking sconces with burning fat candles in them. It’s creepy. But it also explains why chain-mail armored knights with rusty spears didn’t come charging at me. They didn’t actually hear me, because the secret meeting is happening somewhere at the other end of this dungeon-inspired hall.

Crouching my way forward despite my better judgment, I reach another staircase. The sane part of my brain insists that I should go back, but I’ve kind of committed by this point. Besides, this is definitely blackmail-worthy, whatever it might end up actually being.

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