Page 58 of The Neighborhood Vampire

“I don’t think this is supposed to happen,” he said as he unfurled his hand.

In the center of his palm were his two, bloody incisors. Blood dripped from his mouth onto the hardwood floor. It pooled into blackish-red splatter—shiny and reflective. “What’s happening to me?”

Fear engulfed Alice, causing her hands to tremble as she faced the sheer horror of the situation, leaving her frozen in place. A million thoughts raced through her mind, yet she could act on none of them. She had no answer. She had to see for herself. She had to see their handiwork.

“Hugo, open your mouth,” Alice commanded.

Hugo opened wide, pulling back on his lip. Newly formed fangs had pushed out and replaced his incisors, washed red and dripping with blood. Alice bent over, clenching her teeth. She scrunched her eyes closed and tugged at her hair. She let out a barbaric yawp.

“I take it”—Hugo’s voice cracked, betraying his attempt to hide his sadness—“it’s not good.”

Alice let go of her hair. Tears fell down her face. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Does this mean . . .?” Hugo asked. His face was sunken, his eyes red and holding back tears at the revelation of his new future.

Alice somberly nodded.

“Get in here,” Alice’s reflection yelled as she smacked her side of the mirror.

Alice peered into the bathroom.

“Bring him back. Bring him back now!” Alice’s reflection shouted.

Alice entered the bathroom with small steps. Her head went low, and her shoulders drooped. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Alice’s reflection asked. “Bring him back.”

“I can’t,” Alice answered as her eyes met the mirror image of herself. “I can’t because vampires don’t produce magical reflections.”

Chapter 15

The Queen’s King

Sebastian opened the front door to their house for his queen. Sylvia stormed in without breaking her stride. Sebastian followed, shutting the door. He clutched his chest where he had been stabbed earlier in the evening. He winced with every step. Though the wound had stopped bleeding, it was still fresh and painful. His black shirt was damp as it soaked up blood. He entered the living room. He carefully sat on the black, leather Chesterfield sofa. Every movement sent a sharp pain through his body.

“There’s still something in there,” Sebastian said. “We need to get it out.”

He removed his shirt to reveal a seeping wound on his chest where he was struck earlier in the night.

Sylvia’s face twisted in shock; her mouth gaped open in a silent scream and her eyes reflected pure horror. “Get me a first aid kit,” she commanded of the ghouls.

They were waiting in the hallway for their masters to return.

“Go. Now!” she commanded.

One scrambled upstairs to do as instructed.

Sylvia knelt in front of Sebastian. “You!” She pointed to another one. “Go get me a towel. A damp one.”

The ghoul rushed into the kitchen and returned with a wet towel. Sylvia snatched it from his hand and pressed it against the wound.

“Are you okay, my love?” She turned her attention back to her king.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I think he got close. Thankfully, it hit my rib. We need to get the piece out before it works its way inward.”

“First aid. Now!” she shouted once more. “Unless you want to lose your head!”

“My dear, they’ll bring it. Don’t worry,” Sebastian said.

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